straining to hear Molly’s voice. In seconds, though, the pain lifted and my thoughts muddled. My questions became less urgent. Fading, I couldn’t manage to study the eyes above the masks, couldn’t be sure none of them was Phillip Woods wearing a new disguise.

SEVENTY-FOUR

SUSAN? SUSAN WAS TALKING TO ME, OR, NO, NOT TO ME. TO other people. Talking about a man dressed as a woman. And something else, about Beverly Gardener. But I couldn’t hear what. And she said no one could question Zoe Hayes; Zoe Hayes was far too weak.

I listened for Molly, strained to hear her, but couldn’t. Her voice wasn’t there. Why not? Where was she? My eyes wouldn’t open, lips wouldn’t budge. A few times, I heard a man. Nick? Wasn’t he dead? I listened closely, aware that if I could hear a dead man speak, I must be dead, too. Or lingering in a place where voices echoed like dreams and dreams like voices. Drifting, I couldn’t distinguish real from imagined, alive from dead.

Then there were more than just sounds. Hands touched me. Held my fingers. Rested on my arm. Whose hands? Too big, too heavy to be Molly’s. But I couldn’t hold on to my thoughts, couldn’t connect them, so I let go of my questions and once more slipped away.

SEVENTY-FIVE

WHEN MY EYES OPENED AGAIN, BRIGHT LIGHT BLINDED THEM. Squinting, I saw a head silhouetted by brightness. The face was unfocused and the head swollen. Swollen? No, bandaged. And it was Nick’s. Damn, I thought. I’m dead after all. He’s come for me. The way people say that someone who’s died comes to get you, to take you to the Light. I squinted harder. The bright light began to resemble a window, and sunshine peeked through curtains behind Nick’s head. But Nick had been bludgeoned to death at the Institute. So he couldn’t be here. I was dreaming again, must not have opened my eyes after all. I told the dream to go away. It didn’t. So I told the face out loud, in muffled words from a dry mouth.

“Gwey.” The face refused to obey. Instead, it smiled, leaned over, and kissed me on the mouth.

The kiss was warm, and I could smell Nick. And antiseptics. I could feel his breath on my face. Apparently, he wasn’t dead, and neither was I. In fact, he whispered a thank-you, saying that I’d saved his life. The ambulance I’d ordered had arrived. The EMTs had gone to Beverly’ office, just as I’d told the 911 operator. They’d found them both there. Nick and Beverly.

Nick talked slowly, mouthing words carefully, and I wondered if his brain had been damaged, but he didn’t say. He told me that he had a nasty gash and a concussion, but he was recuperating. Beverly was also expected to survive. Woods had beaten her badly; she’d be hospitalized for a while. All the patients were back in their rooms. Evie’d been found walking along the train tracks, singing and barefoot, headed toward Center City. I’d been found at the entrance to Section 5, Evie’s blanket draped over me.

And Molly? Where was Molly? Why didn’t he tell me? Nick told me I’d need a lot of rest; I’d bled a lot. He said the knife had slashed long and deep, nearly puncturing my lung. He went on about how sorry he was, how it was all his fault. I listened, waiting for him to mention Molly. But he didn’t. Not one word.

“Whzzmllee?” I asked him. My tongue wouldn’t move, seemed glued to the floor of my mouth.

“Don’t try to talk, darling.” Darling? He touched my face. I was furious. What was wrong with him? What had happened to Molly? I had to see her. Who was watching her?

I mustered my strength to articulate another question. “Wehz-mawlee?”

This time, I knew he understood me. His eyes lit. “Molly? At Susan’s. We thought it best if she didn’t see you until you were conscious.”

I closed my eyes, warding off tears. Molly was at Susan’s. “Howshee?”

“She’s a trouper. Worried about her mother. But a patient— the one we found on the train tracks? She took Molly to the art room. Get this—she even got paper and crayons out for her. Molly was fine—”

“Evie,” I breathed.

“What was that, honey?”

Tears spilled. I couldn’t help it. Evie had rescued Molly, had taken her to the art room, a place she thought of as safe. Thank God. They were both okay. My skin ached to hug my daughter, but I’d see