“You took turns? What was it this time? Another brother? Maybe a sister?”
“It was a girl.”
Tears rolled down Amber’s cheeks. “I had a sister. I had a sister and you killed her.”
“Yes, we did,” Imelda said, pulling at a tiny loose thread on her sleeve. “Every sixteen years, the seventh’s power was recycled through us, making us stronger, and then the surplus was available again for the next child.”
“So that’s what you’ve been doing?” Amber asked. “For, what, the last hundred years?”
“We make it a point not to grow too attached to our children. It’s the only way to stay sane.”
Amber laughed. “Sane? You think this is sane? This is the most insane thing I have ever heard! This is nuts! It’s sick and it’s wrong! It’s evil! You’re saying my parents are—”
“Psychopaths,” said Imelda, looking up at her. “Yes. Pure psychopaths. The others, they became psychopaths. They let the power corrupt them, eat away at their consciences. But Bill and Betty, they were born that way. They just hid it until they didn’t need to any longer.”
“So everyone’s a psycho except you,” said Amber. Her fingernails – still ordinary fingernails, thank God – were digging into her palms. “That’s what you want me to believe now?”
“If I’m a psychopath,” said Imelda. “why haven’t I killed you? The others aren’t around. If I killed you now … ate you … I’d absorb all of your power. I wouldn’t have to share it with anyone. So, if you really do think I’m the same as your parents, why are you still alive?”
“I don’t know,” Amber said. “Maybe you’re trying to talk me to death. Or maybe, because the Shining Demon demands a jar of blood from each of you, having me all to yourself would break the terms of your deal.”
Imelda smiled. “I’m breaking the terms already by keeping you alive. But I admire your logic. You’re always thinking, aren’t you? That’s what I’ve always loved about you, Amber.”
“You’ve never loved anything about me,” Amber said. “Before this, you barely spoke to me.”
“I couldn’t do it anymore,” said Imelda. “I couldn’t pretend anymore. Not like the others.”
“So how come you’re different?”
Imelda hesitated. “The last time I had a child, something went wrong. I’d tried to remain detached from her, but I couldn’t. The moment I held my newborn baby in my arms I knew … I knew I wasn’t supposed to feel this way.”
“You loved her.”
“Yes.”
“But you still killed her.”
“Alastair killed her. I tried to run. I tried to take my daughter and escape, but Alastair knew what I was planning. He promised me that if I returned he wouldn’t tell the others. I was scared. Confused. Weak.”
“So you brought your daughter back to be killed.”
“Yes.”
“And let me guess – you felt bad about it.”
Imelda looked up. “This stops here. With you. I’ve spent the last ten years building up my courage. I’m sorry I was never kind to you, but it was too risky. I was afraid the others would see what I was planning. Alastair, especially. He knows me the best. But now I’m going to break the cycle. You’re going to leave with Milo. Tonight. I’ll be joining you as soon as I can, but you have one chance to get out of this alive, and Milo knows where to start.”
“You’re sending me away? But you can’t. This is my home.”
“Is it? What exactly do you have here, Amber? Friends? Really? Are you going to stay because of school? Because of your job at the diner? These things are enough to make you stay?”
Amber swallowed. “Then where am I going?”
“Milo knows. I don’t.”
“Why wouldn’t you know where I’m going?”
“Because if your parents figure out that I’m helping you,” said Imelda, “they will torture me until I tell them everything. If I don’t know where you are, I can’t betray you.”
Amber stared. “But … but then what’ll happen to you?”
Imelda hesitated. “Your parents are very ruthless people, sweetie, and they’re not going to pass up the opportunity to absorb more power.”
“They’d eat you?”
“And if I’m very, very lucky? They’d kill me first.”
MILO CAME IN AND Imelda talked to him at the far side of the apartment in a low voice Amber couldn’t make out. He nodded occasionally and replied, and barely even glanced Amber’s way.
She busied herself with looking through the bag Imelda had given her. A few items of clothing and underwear, everything in her size. She dug a little deeper, found a bag of toiletries. Dug deeper. Found a bag of money.
Tens, twenties and fifties in tightly packed rolls. Her eyes widened. There must have been thousands in there. Tens of thousands. A hundred thousand?
All the essentials that anyone would need to go on the run.
Milo and Imelda came over, and Amber stood to face them.
“It’s time to go,” Imelda said.
“I don’t want to,” Amber announced.
“I understand that,” said Imelda, “but it really is for the best. Milo will keep you as safe as he can and keep you out of sight as much as possible. We’re paying him for this – ten thousand a week. Take it from the money I gave you.”
“You’re not listening to me. I don’t want to go.”
“I am listening to you, but you’ve got to listen to me, too. I know what your parents are capable of.”
“You can hide me here.”
“They’ll check here,” Imelda said. “Alastair is already looking at me strangely. He’s got his suspicions. It’s only a matter of time before he stops by for an unannounced visit.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to hurt me, either. Have you thought of that? Maybe he’s like you. Maybe he’s sick of it.”
Imelda shook her head. “I wish that were true.”
“Ask him!” Amber said. “Talk to him! Talk to my parents! Maybe they’d change their minds if you talk to them!”
“Sweetie, no …”
“Have you tried?”
“I haven’t,” Imelda admitted.
“Then you don’t know, do you? You want to send me away when I might not even have to go. I know my parents, too, all right? I know what they’re like. Talk to them. They’re weird, but they’re practical. All you need to do is reason with them.”
“Amber, Bill and Betty aren’t going to change their minds,” said Imelda. “They’re furious. They’re desperate. They haven’t slept. They haven’t stopped searching.”
“They’re