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I shudder out a short breath, just enough so that I don’t freaking pass out and land at his feet or something, and crack my eyes open again.
I don’t know if he heard me. It’s possible. With adrenaline rushing through me, every sound is amplified. I can hear the tiny bits of gravel shift under his feet as the doctor looks around, continuing to search.
Either way, as he lets the manila envelope fall to the ground, Dr. Gillespie suddenly yanks on his collar with one hand, the other reaching beneath his shirt to pull on… on something.
What the—
It almost looks like the necklace Carolina gave me. The same braided sinew strip that makes up the cord, tied securely around an iron nail that’s gotta be at least twice the size as the one Carolina gave me. As if he knows about the fae—as if he believes in the Faerie races—Dr. Gillespie has taken precautions to protect himself.
And that’s not all.
Unlike mine, Dr. Gillespie’s necklace has more than just the nail hanging off the cord. It’s one of three things, even if it’s the only one I recognize—or understand the importance of.
The nail is in the center. Closer to his left hand, there’s some kind of crystalline stone that looks super heavy and kind of strange.
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sp; He ignores the crystal and the nail, using his right hand to lift up the third charm thing. I don’t know what the hell it is. It’s… it’s a rock, just not like the rock Nine carries in his pocket. A little bit bigger than a quarter, the doctor’s rock is shaped in an almost perfect circle, polished smooth, with another open circle in the center.
It reminds me of a stony donut. I’ve got no idea what it is.
With a flick of his wrist, he lifts his glasses, letting them rest on the top of his head. After squinting one of his bright blue eyes, Dr. Gillespie raises the donut-looking rock up to the other one. That close, the circle in the middle of the rock is some kind of peephole.
His head swivels, the tip of his tongue poking out as he peeks through it. Right when he’s aiming the rock at me, he points.
A foxy grin tugs on his lips. “Gotcha,” he whispers.
He can see me. I don’t have a single clue how that’s possible with a freaking rock, but my former psychologist is staring right in my direction, smiling like the cat that got the cream.
Plus, he said gotcha. No one ever says gotcha for a good reason.
He goes and proves me right a second later. Without lowering his rock or wiping that creepy grin off of his face, Dr. Gillespie calls out into the alley again.
“Riley, you must trust me. You don’t have to hide, and you don’t have to be afraid. I’m here to help you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. Remember? I’m your doctor. Let me help you.”
Help me? Yeah. Right.
Help me get back to Black Pine and then, after they hear about what happened to me since Nine grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the asylum, make it so that I’m moved on to the adult facility for the rest of my life.
And that’s if they don’t blame me when they find Carolina’s body and figure I had something to do with it.
I avoided manslaughter charges after Madelaine’s murder when I was fifteen. I’m twenty-one now, and it’s not like I can tell the police and the judges that Carolina wasted away because she didn’t get enough Faerie food.
Oh, yeah. I’m gonna be locked up in the psych ward forever if I don’t escape Dr. Gillespie now. The same Dr. Gillespie who has just proven that—like others in Black Pine—he’s familiar enough with the fae to carry an iron nail and a weirdo seeing stone with him.
I back up. His head follows my every move.
Now that he can see me, I’ve lost any advantage I had. How much longer until he starts asking me about my parlor trick with the shadows? And then, after that, about Nine?
I can’t do it. But can I get past him? Good question. On my best days, I could probably fight him off. Today… is not one of my best days. I haven’t gotten any kind of restful sleep in more than two days. I’m tired. Weak. And, right now, I feel like a cornered animal. Part of me wants to lash out—even though I know it would be a bad idea to do that—while retreating seems like a good plan.
Without taking my gaze off of the doctor, I glance behind me out of the corner of one eye.
It’s dark. Really dark. Super dark. At first, I wonder if maybe there’s a way out behind the shadows—and then I realize something. Those aren’t just shadows.
It’s a patch of night in the middle of the afternoon.
No, it’s a portal.
