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He lets go of me.
My tailbone smacks into the counter's edge. I wince and hiss, but he doesn't pay any attention because my suffering means nothing to him. So what if he scrounged up food and water for me? He wants me alive until he finds Sefton, that's all.
I'm leaning against the counter now with Sefton's note clenched in my hand while the throbbing pain in my tailbone gradually fades.
Dax snatches the note from me. He reads the handwritten text, and his brows knit together. "What does this mean?"
"That Sefton is loony tunes."
"No, it has meaning." He thrusts the note at me. "And you know what it is."
"The only part I understood was 'Dear Allison, sorry I missed you.' The rest is insane."
He throws an arm around me, mashing my body to his, and reads the now-crumpled note. "Through the alchemy of worlds, the alchemy of souls, the Echo shall reveal the true nature of all."
"Crazy talk, like I said."
"No, I don't think so." Dax pins his gaze to mine. "You left out the bit where he vows to find you again."
My best option right now is to say nothing. He won't believe anything I say unless I tell him what he wants to hear, but that would be lying. It's not my fault Sefton became obsessed with me when he tipped over the edge, tumbling headfirst into madness. The alchemy of worlds? What does that mean?
Dax told me the world isn't ending. It's transforming.
The beast clutching me to his body sweeps me up in his arms and climbs over the counter, thumping down on the other side. Then he sets me on my feet and grabs my arm, towing me out of the library.
All those books about alchemy and quantum entanglement… Sefton must have wanted them as part of whatever he did to transform the world. But what is it becoming?
Chapter Seven
Dax
What does the note mean? I assume the alchemy of worlds has already begun, but the alchemy of souls is yet to come. I don't know exactly what Sefton meant by those terms. Still, I'm certain it doesn't herald the beginning of utopia. No, a deranged mind like his would dream up something much worse than what we've seen so far. Sefton always was a master planner.
But I could never have envisioned what he would become—or what he would do. Am I as deranged as he is?
Allison and I exit the library, and I start walking down the pockmarked street for several yards before I realize she is not following me. The bloody-minded woman isn't trying to escape, though. When I turn to look for her, she's sitting on the edge of the pavement in front of the library with her feet on the roadway, holding the wrinkled note. She stares at it with a blank expression.
With a heavy sigh, I stalk back to her. "What are you doing? We need to keep moving."
She holds up the note. "Do you know what this means? Because I don't have a clue."
"Only Sefton knows what it means. That's why we need to find him."
"Told you I don't know where he is." She crumples the note and tosses it away. A breeze latches onto the ball of paper, whisking it across the street. "Might as well start chopping off my fingers."
Why must she keep repeating the threat I'd made earlier? Maybe I should follow through on it, but I don't have time for that right now. I am not delaying because I feel bad for issuing that threat. Her feelings mean nothing to me. Her safety only matters because I need her to take me to Sefton.
I don't care what happens to Allison Dahl. No, I don't.
What I should do is walk away now. Leave her there looking miserable and alone. But I don't do that. For reasons I can't comprehend, I sit down beside her and pull a water bottle out of my backpack, then hand it to her.
Surprise flashes on her face, but only for a second. She accepts the bottle and unscrews the lid, taking a long drink of water. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me. I'm only keeping you fed and hydrated because—"
"Yeah, yeah. I know you hate me. But you're obsessed with the asinine idea that I know how to find Sefton Stainthorpe." She holds the water bottle between her palms, turning it side to side while she studies me. "Why do you hate me? I've never done a damn thing to you."
Not sure I know how to answer that question. From the moment I first saw her, I had been determined to capture and interrogate her, to wrench the truth out of her by whatever means necessary. But do I despise her? Or am I afraid of what she might do to me? She can't hurt me physically. Perhaps I'm afraid of what I might do toher. This lust she inflames in me… I don't know what it means or if I can control it.
