- STEVEN -

That noise—what was that awful noise? Screaming? No...screeching. A frightened, terrified wail of agony. It wasn't pain; it was pure suffering.

And then it stopped.

Silence reigned.

Footsteps pattered.

...She giggled. A seventh-grader giggled with delight. "It's perfect," I heard her whisper.

More footsteps, this time coming closer.

"Steeeeven," an unabashedly girly voice crooned in my ear. "Waky waky, eggs and bakey. Steve's a fake; his dad's a snakey."

Little by little, I managed finally to open my eyes, to feel the thick length of rope securing my arms and legs to metallic pews velveted with plush cushions—pews I knew all too well.

The groggy blur before my eyes began slowly to dissipate, just as EdgeWay Church of Christ's main sanctuary came at last into full focus. At the edge of the stage, I spotted a tall and dingy bath tub, imposing in its own right as it sat precariously raised.

My eyes fled and swept to center stage, to the musician piano, the drums—and the podium situated medially before them. And the moment I saw it, I gasped, felt all the air bellow out of me.

Suspended by a stiff, wooden rod from the pointed edge of the stage's podium, my brother's severed head dripped blood onto the floored carpet. Its eyeholes rested in that eerie midpoint between tightly shut and bristlingly open, hair swaying to the side as its lips swelled in uneven purplish puffs.

Above the podium, the projector screen flashed to black and reset itself as the prattle of footsteps echoed out once more, this time behind me—accompanied by a slithering, sensuous voice.

"Steven," the words wisped through the air, "so glad you're awake."

"Where am I!?" I demanded, just as the projector in front of me began to play.

"Oh, Steven," Lane strode before me, stepping into view at last as the overhead video cut to a single frame—the bound and unconscious body of Glenn Clather, perched upon a flat stool of wood. "This is church."

She raised the remote in her hand to aim at the monitor, blasting the volume to its maximum as a blond figure ambled into view and jabbed a knife into Glenn's left shoulder to wake him.

He screamed, eyes and mouth popping wide at once as blood spurted.

"Welcome home, Glenn," the girl in the video spat.

"W-what is this?" I spoke up as Glenn squirmed on screen.

"Shh!" Lane screeched back at me. "This is my TV debut!" She giggled with delight, then tossed the remote to the floor. "So pay attention!"

"Who are you?" Glenn demanded of the blond.

"Oh, Glenny...don't tell me you forgot already?" She ripped the knife from his shoulder, flicked the blood from the blade as he screamed again. "I'm Lane...and you've been a very naughty boy."

Glenn's eyes grew wide. "L-Lane? No, that's impossible. You're...dead...Marcus said—"

"Marcus lied," the blond cut in. "But I guess that's no surprise, really." She raised her knife slowly, eyes teetering at the sharpened edge. "Do you know the Biblical punishment for lying?"

In a single swift motion, Lane jabbed the knife between Glenn's slightly parted lips, slicing through his tongue and embedding the blade in the back of his throat with a sick squishing sound. She crooked the knife to the right before yanking it from his mouth, blood sailing across the screen, then plunged it between his legs.

Glenn yelled, his agony as palpable as the voice I'd heard just before waking—his pain as real, his screams as nightmarish. Strips of pink slowly swelled at one edge of his lips, pouring blood between that fell and dripped on Lane's knuckles as she slowly removed the blade from Glenn's crotch, only to thrust it deeper a second time.

She ripped to the right, tearing into his exposed thigh. Glenn's screams grew louder and louder, and Lane kicked over the stool where he sat.

Glenn collapsed, letting out more wails; the knife stabbed deeper still, driven upward by the force of his collision with the floor. Blood squirted, painted the carpet a flaming crimson.

Lane giggled and knelt to the ground, reaching through Glenn's writhing to retrieve the knife. "Did you know," she began, "everyone thought Ruby ran away with some older boy, some guy who could give her everything. No one knew the truth...that all along, it was just you—a creep who took everything away from her."

"Lane...please..." Glenn's voice was a wisped, groggy rasp.

"And when they find you," Lane didn't flinch, "the cops are going to know exactly why you died." She dug the knife into Glenn's back, just below his left shoulder blade, and began scraping Ruby's name.

It was a fleshly, unforgiving red that poured amid Glenn's terrified whimpers and gasps. Lane accentuated each turn of her weapon, every gratuitous letter and stroke, with painful and blood-curdling flair, crossing the final T with enough force and vigor to dislodge the knife's blade from its hilt.

Glenn's eyes were wide, shaking; Lane's were cold and unyielding. She stood to her feet, stared down at him, then reached off screen to grab something dark and obscure. Glenn began to cough and choke, gagging on blood as Lane lifted the object of pure blackness above her head.

She swung downward.

I screamed.

- AHMED -

Alice unbent her knees and stood to her feet, walking over to the fireman and planting a kiss on his cheek. "Oh, Leith," she murmured in a soft and silky voice, wrapping both hands around his free arm. "You're my knight in shining armor."

Leith grinned for the first time, turning briefly to nuzzle his nose against Alice's ear before returning his stone-cold eyes to face the rest of us.

I was next to Sam, whose balled fists told me he wasn't planning on taking any of this lying down. I managed to make eye contact with him. "Sam, don't," I whispered.

He grimaced angrily, exhaling air like an enraged bull ready to charge.

Prudence cleared her throat, stepped in front of the two of us. "My backup is almost here," she addressed Alice and her boyfriend. "You've only got precious few moments before this place is buzzing—loads of officers with loads of weapons. Do you really want to be caught pointing a gun at the deputy commissioner's wife?"

Alice smiled. "Trust me—we won't be caught doing anything." She crossed her arms. "There's only one loose end left to be tied up. And her name is Myra Gravestepper."

Alice reached inside a pouch on Leith's uniform to retrieve a set of bullets, then she kissed him on the cheek once more before smiling again. "I won't be long," she cooed. "Promise."

She turned briefly to us, then back to Leith. "Get all of them in the van. Then you get as far away from here as possible."

Leith nodded.

Alice gave a determined sigh. "Time to find Myra and—"

"Find me?" came a familiar voice from the darkness. "But sweet Alice, I'm right here."

Alarmed, Alice twisted her head to the right, just as a jagged tree branch struck Leith in the back of the head and sent him falling face first into dirt and grassy weeds. Prudence leapt forward and kicked his gun away, then spun around to Alice, who turned and dashed into the willowy woods.

"After her!" Myra screamed as she sprinted into the light. "Don't let her get away!"

Prudence reached to the ground and re-armed herself with a pistol before taking off through the trees alongside Myra, leaving me and Sam to stare ahead at Leith's fallen body—and the girl who stood behind it, tree branch in hand.

"Irina!?" I gasped.

Sam and I ran forward at once, Sam hugging his arms around her in an instant.

"Irina, I was so worried," Sam breathed, tears in his voice. "I was so...Irina..." He shut his eyes, pulled closer to her.

She rested her head against his chest under his chin. "Hi, Sam," she exhaled, laughing lightly. "It's nice to see you too."

"Irina..." I tried to begin, "wh-what happened? I mean...how...how'd you find us...?"

"I didn't," she answered lowly. "Charity did—and you're not the only ones she found."

Pulling away from Sam, Irina turned to the darkness behind us.

Emerging from the night, Charity Vaughn-Daley stepped slowly forward, her arms around the shoulder of a shivering brunette I thought I might never see again.

GiGi? My jaw dropped as Ms. Charity walked over to us, arms around Irina's sister. "B-but how?"

"It's a long story," Ms. Charity breathed. She turned to GiGi and kissed her sweetly on the temple. "And it wasn't me, Irina. Myra was the one who actually found GiGi, huddled behind Molding the Way."

"Wait, Molding the Way?" Sam asked. "But we were just there—"

"Yeah," Irina cut in, "and so was GiGi. We just never saw her."

"Irina, I'm so confused..." I puzzled.

"Laaaaane," GiGi spoke at last. "It was a sleepover." She turned and hugged Irina around the neck. Irina smiled at her, hugged her back.

"It was Lane who kidnapped her from Molding the Way," Charity explained. "GiGi's been with her this whole time."

"Shhh!!!" GiGi whisper-screeched. "It was just a sleepover." She started giggling. "I just got really bored when Lane said she had to go."

Irina nodded in my direction. "Lane left her alone, and I'm guessing somewhere deep down, she remembered the way to Molding." She sighed. "Right after I...left Molding the Way, Mom was getting ready to go to the cops. But then she found GiGi outside and called me the moment she did."

"I'm surprised you answered," I said lowly.

Irina paused. "So was I." She peered around through the night air before continuing. "I tried calling Prudence to tell her everything that was happening; but she wasn't answering her phone, and I started getting really scared." Irina exhaled, turned to Ms. Charity, smiled. "And that's when I called you."

"Well, I'm so happy you did," Ms. Charity replied. "Ever since Marissa's death, I've felt this...heaviness in my spirit. I could sense GiGi was in dangerous company. I just didn't know where she was—until you and your mother called me, Dear."

Irina nodded. "One call to Deputy Commissioner Darrow did the rest." She placed a hand on her hip. "He told us about the lake house. But while we were driving there, we saw Sam's abandoned car." Irina motioned to the empty vehicle about fifty feet from where we stood in the ebony night. "We knew we had to act fast, and...well, my mom volunteered to be the bait."

Sam stared down at Irina and placed his arm around her shoulder, stroking her hair. "You did great, Rina," he said wearily but resolutely, managing a smile. "You're the best."

I nodded, drew closer to her. "I'm glad you came back," I said lowly, my eyes darting away from hers.

Irina's gaze fell. "Sorry I ditched you," she mused.

"It's okay," I shrugged. "I mean, I probably—"

"She's gone!" came a cry from the distance, followed by rushing footfall.

I spun around, bits of dirt and grass snapping under my feet as I spotted Prudence and Myra, the latter of whom screamed again: "She's gone! Alice is gone!"