Thane frowns.
“Should we separate?” the golden maiden suggests.
With Grace back in our realm, we are already divided. Splitting up further can’t be a good idea. I squeeze Thane’s hand again.
“That won’t help,” Gretchen says. “We just have to move faster.”
The door creaks as Gretchen pushes it open and peers out into the dungeon. It must be all clear, because she slips out and gestures at us to follow. On my way, I glance at Thane. He is watching me and scowling.
I start to ask, “What?” but Gretchen notices my hesitation and snaps, “Hurry up.”
Thane shakes his head and nudges me out of the closet. Then I’m running to keep up with Gretchen’s breakneck pace, and I don’t have time to think about anything except not falling behind—not the strange connection between me and Thane, the monsters that keep showing up wherever we go, or the little voices that are whispering in my mind.
CHAPTER 8
GRACE
I can’t stop shaking. Across the room from where Nick is holding me, his arm tight around my neck as if he’s going to crush it like a bad guy in a spy movie, is a guy with a dog’s head and flippers for hands.
Clearly Nick knows him.
This must be the boss.
“You need her,” Nick says to the guy. “The Keys can’t open the door if one of them is dead.”
That’s reassuring, I guess.
The guy claps his flippers together in mock applause. “Nice move, Niko. You play the game well.” He jerks his head at the hulking dude with charcoal-coated feet who is hovering just to our right. “Too bad you’re playing for the wrong side.”
“That’s a matter of opinion,” Nick replies.
For a moment—it feels like an eternity—they stare each other down. I can’t see Nick’s face, but I can feel the tension in his body. He’s coiled tight, ready to react. Or act.
My initial panic starts to wear off, and I realize that if Nick wanted me dead, he’d have broken my neck already. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my thinking so I can help him get us out of here alive.
“I’d rather let the door seal forever,” Nick says, his voice low and menacing, “than let you take her.”
The boss studies Nick, maybe trying to judge his commitment to that threat. I know exactly what Nick is threatening. I don’t approve. The door seals if my sisters and I can’t open it in time. We can’t open it at all if I’m dead. As much as I’d like to
“Nick,” I whisper.
He squeezes tighter, just enough to get his message across without cutting off my air. I’m just not entirely sure if that message is “keep quiet and let me handle this” or “keep quiet or I’ll crush your windpipe.” Either way, I keep quiet.
“You want me to get her, boss?” the charcoal guy asks.
While the boss watches us through squinting eyes, Nick pulls me closer against his chest. His heart is racing almost as fast as mine.
“Nah,” the boss finally says. “Let ’em go.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” He looks away, dismissing us. “Better not risk it. We need the Keys intact.”
I feel Nick release a breath behind me.
“You go out first,” Nick says, nodding at the door. “Make sure none of your goons get the wrong idea about the situation. We’ll follow you.”
The boss smacks his gums. “Whatever you say, Niko.” He grunts at the charcoal guy, who starts for the door. “I’ll enjoy making you pay for this later.”
“I’m sure you will,” Nick replies. Then, too quiet for anyone else to hear, he whispers, “If they try to pull something, run.”
Although my heart is still thumping up into my throat, relief washes through me. I wasn’t wrong about Nick—Gretchen wasn’t wrong. He’s on our side. And by threatening to take my life, I think he just saved it.
There are two more bad guys waiting in the hall outside my apartment. The boss waves them off, and they warily move to the side and let us pass.
“Head for the elevator,” Nick says, nudging me forward toward the bronze door at the far end of the hall.
For the first time since my near-death experience in the rickety old elevator, I’m looking forward to stepping into the cage of doom. It’s actually the lesser of two evils here.
“Push the down button,” Nick tells the boss.
When he can only smack at the button plate, he shrugs. “Can’t. That’s the trouble with flippers, you know.”
“Grace,” Nick says, ignoring the boss’s attempt at humor, “push the button.”
I reach out, hand shaking, and call the elevator.
I’m not scared that Nick will kill me, not anymore—I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t anyway, but the thought of what Gretchen would do to him if he did would probably give him second thoughts in any case.
Everyone is very tense: the boss, even though he’s acting unconcerned, the uneasy goons watching the boss escort us to the lift, and Nick behind me.
No one wants me dead here, least of all me, but tension can make people do things they otherwise wouldn’t.
As we stand there waiting for the elevator to arrive, I study the people around us, or rather the monsters— the creatures who appear human to the ordinary people in my building. These beastly bodyguards could crush me with their bare hands, never mind the various weapons each one is carrying. Our only protection is my value as part of the Key Generation.
My palms are itching to get us out of this situation.
The elevator arrives with a creak and a sad ding. As the bronze door jerks open, I feel Nick tense up behind me. We’re almost home free—why is he getting more nervous? Something is about to happen, but I’m not sure what.
“Nick, what—”
He releases me, shoves me into the elevator car, and lunges for the boss.
“Get out of here,” he shouts. “Autoport as soon as the doors close. Find your mother and get safe.”
“No,” I scream as I stumble to the back of the car and brace myself against my crash into the mirrored wall. “Nick, wait!”
But as I dive back for the door, it slides closed. I try to shove my hands into its path, to find the sensor that will reverse the motion, but I can’t. It crashes shut, and suddenly I’m in the elevator, alone and afraid.
Before I can push a button—before my brain stops freaking out long enough to tell me to push the button for the floor we’re on so I can go back and help Nick—the car starts moving. Up.
“Shoot.”
I stare at the button panel. There are eight floors, with no way of knowing where the elevator will stop. Maybe it’s just another resident in the building. People must call the death trap all the time, right?
But as the elevator slows to a stop on the floor above mine, I have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. The door starts lurching open, revealing a tiny sliver of the hallway beyond—just enough for me to see the gang of thugs waiting with their weapons drawn.
Without thinking, I shut my eyes and blink myself out of there.
My thoughts are muddled by the fear and confusion. I’m not thinking clearly as I autoport myself out of the
