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I heard a sound like nothing that should ever have come from a human throat, yet it came from Derek. An eerie, low-pitched keening, repeated over and over again.

I went to Derek—I could not do otherwise—I crawled to him, touched his head, but he jerked away from me and raised a face utterly transformed by madness. H

is eyes were no longer human but like the eyes of a beaten dog near death, full of pain and incomprehension.

“Derek, it’s over. It’s over. You’re not burned. It’s over.”

He began rocking back and forth, resting on one haunch, legs twisted together, his face in one elbow while the other armed just flapped like it was boneless.

“Like a dry twig,” Oriax said.

“You’re both despicable!” I raged at Oriax and Messenger.

“Yes,” Oriax said, “but at least I have some fun with it.”

Derek rocked, back and forth, back and forth, all the while keeping up his unearthly keening.

“The Shoals for him, then,” Oriax said.

“That is not for you to decide,” Messenger said tersely. Then in a voice that was flat he said, “Daniel.”

Just that. He didn’t yell it or speak any incantation. And Daniel was there.

Daniel glanced at Oriax and said, “I imagine you’ve done your damage, Oriax.”

“Mmm,” she answered. “Well, I sense that I am not wanted here.” She winked at me and disappeared.

Daniel didn’t seem to need any explanation, and Messenger didn’t offer one. He knelt beside me, in front of Derek, and laid his hand on Derek’s head. This time Derek did not flinch. I don’t believe that Derek felt Daniel’s touch, or that he felt or saw or heard anything at all anymore.

Tears were running freely down my face, and I felt so very sick and so utterly weary. But slowly I became aware that Daniel was looking at me.

“It was awful,” I muttered.

Daniel nodded.

“He is a monster,” I said, pointing a finger at Messenger. “He’s a wicked, sick, sadistic monster.”

Daniel waited to see if I was done, but I had no more words, just tears and sadness.

“Do you imagine that he enjoyed it?” Daniel asked me. “Do you still not understand that what the Messenger of Fear does, he is bound to do? He’s not a monster, he’s a servant. And a penitent. Like you.”

That word penetrated. Penitent.

“This is Messenger’s punishment,” Daniel said. “As it is yours. Each horror that he sees is a scar on his soul, a whip on his flesh. As it will be to you when you are the Messenger.”

“Just a kid,” I said, speaking about Derek but, I suppose, about myself, too. And even Messenger.

“Charles, too, was just a kid, and now he lies dead. And in a few weeks Manolo will be dead after hanging himself to escape the misery of his new life. Two dead, because of Derek.”

I didn’t want to argue with Daniel. I didn’t have the strength.

“This isn’t fair, this isn’t justice,” I said. “People do bad things all the time. They get away with bad things all the time. Why this one person? Why did we subject Liam and Emma to the test and risk this? Who knows what fears they may have had? And why Kayla, no matter how bad she may be? What horrors are you going to inflict on her?”

Daniel glanced at Messenger and might have been almost irritated. Maybe that Messenger had not explained these things to me. But then he nodded to himself, accepting it. He said, “Mara, we right the balance. Do we always right the balance? No. So we focus on . . .” He stopped, frowned thoughtfully, and said, “On what do you think we focus? Why are we dealing with these three cases? As you say, there are thousands of awful deeds every day. Why these three?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“First,” Daniel said, “they are young, and might do terrible things again and again if uncorrected. But I will tell you that had Liam and Emma merely run into a dog, the Messengers would not be involved.”

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