Industrial Magic - By Kelley Armstrong Page 0,136

doesn’t matter.”

A gust of wind whipped through the alley, making us all freeze. It came again, not so much a wind now as a quaking, as if the air itself was heaving, churning.

Edward stepped to the side fast and raised the gun at Lucas. I pitched sideways, throwing myself into his path, but the air around us vibrated so violently that I lost my balance and fell to one knee. As I twisted, the still-healing knife wounds blazed and I gasped.

“Don’t move, Paige,” Lucas said, his voice tight. “Please, don’t move.”

I shifted my eyes, straining to see Edward. He had the gun pointed at my chest.

“Don’t do this,” Lucas said. “She hasn’t done anything to you. If you let her go, I can promise you—”

Edward swung the gun toward Lucas. “Shut up.”

“Listen to him, Edward,” I said. “If you stop now, you can be with Natasha.”

“Natasha is gone!”

“No, she’s not. She’s a ghost.”

His lips twisted. “You lying bitch. You’d say anything to save him, wouldn’t you?”

He started to turn the gun on me. Then the air around us crackled and popped, and he swung the gun back toward Lucas.

“I told you, any magic and—”

Behind Lucas, the air darkened, then the backdrop shattered, like a mirror breaking. Light streamed through. A woman’s figure appeared in the light. Edward looked up. He blinked.

“Nat—? Natasha?”

She reached for him. Edward took a slow, cautious step forward. Then suddenly, Natasha’s body jerked ramrod straight. The hole shimmered around her. Her eyes went wide and her mouth opened in a silent scream, and she tumbled back into the yawning hole, arms still stretching toward Edward.

“No!” Edward shouted.

The gun jerked, then fell from his hand as he raced for the portal. I saw the gun fall. I swear that is the first thing I saw, and in that moment I knew Lucas was safe. Then Lucas toppled backward, a dark hole in his breast pocket. Then, only then, I heard the shot echoing through the alley.

I twisted around. Lucas was still falling into the hole. The light swallowed his head, then his chest, and finally his feet.

I dove in after him.

Through the Back Door

I WAS JUMPING ON A BED, LEAPING AS HIGH AS I COULD, shrieking each time my feet struck down. Someone was singing. My mother? No, a younger voice, struggling to sing without laughing.

“Five little monkeys jumping on the bed.

“Five little monkeys jumping on the bed.

One fell off and bumped his head.

Momma called the doctor and the doctor said,

‘No more monkeys jumping on the bed!’”

“Again!” I screamed. “Again!”

“Again?” the voice laughed. “If you break your mother’s bed, she’ll have both our hides.”

I threw my chubby fists in the air as I jumped, then lost my footing and collapsed face first into the pillows. Hands reached down to pick me up, but I pushed them back, got up and whirled around, bouncing.

“Again! Again!”

A dramatic sigh. “One more time, Paige. I mean it. This is the last time.”

I giggled, knowing this would be far from the last time.

Five little monkeys…

I groaned and the dream faded, but I could still hear the song, that same person singing it. The voice tickled a memory, but it evaporated before I could seize it.

I opened my eyes, but could see nothing. A cold, damp darkness enveloped me and I shivered. I blinked and tried to clear my fogged brain. I was lying on my side. I reached out and touched something cold but smooth and solid. As I ran my hand across it, I felt bumps and sharp edges. Rock. I was lying on rock.

Four little monkeys jumping on the bed…

I squeezed my eyes shut, but the tune kept playing in my head. What was that song? Now that I heard it, I could say every word by heart, as they bubbled up from my subconscious. An image came to mind. Me, no more than two years old, jumping on my mother’s bed as someone sang.

“No more monkeys jumping on the bed!”

Three little monkeys—

“Oh, God, stop!” I said, cradling my booming head.

The song stopped.

A voice sighed, that same dramatic sigh I’d heard in my dream. “Well, it was either that or scream until you woke up. Be glad I took the musical approach.”

I scrambled up and looked around. My eyes had adjusted enough that I could make out dim shapes around me, but none looked remotely human. I blinked hard and focused. Scattered around me were huge boulders, rising up from the stone bed on which I lay.

“Rock,” I said. “It’s

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