and a gaunt frame, carries an empty bowl clasped to his side. He stops in front of one of the airmen and exchanges the man’s filled bowl for the empty one. He pauses, the bowl balanced carefully on both of his palms, and looks at Hardcastle.
HARDCASTLE: We’re not going to hurt you, kid.
The boy approaches with hesitant steps. He holds the bowl up toward Hardcastle. In his eyes is an invitation. An offer.
HARDCASTLE: Uh—no thanks?
The boy nods—and then he sets the bowl to his lips, and drinks. He drinks thirstily, greedily, gulping down the tarry black liquid. It spills out of the sides of his mouth, down his chin, splashes on his chest and the ground at his feet. Hardcastle makes a guttural sound of revulsion and steps back.
The boy takes the last swallow and lowers the bowl. His skin is red and blistering where the liquid touched it, but he smiles, a contortion of his lips that is almost parody. And then he sprints back toward the rocky outcroppings at the edge of the room, his movements too limber and too controlled to belong to such a young child.
KAPOOR: There’s more of them.
Eyes reflect the team’s lights. Dozens of eyes, belonging to rail-thin children who cling to the rocks or crouch against the ground. The oldest is perhaps twelve, though it’s difficult to tell, given their emaciated state and ragged clothing. The youngest might be four or five.
NOVAK: I know that girl.
She’s whispering. She holds the Sophias close against her as she stares at one of the children, a girl with long black hair and light brown skin that had begun to turn a sickly sort of gray.
NOVAK: Mikhail has a painting of her. He showed me once. That’s his daughter.
KAPOOR: We have bigger problems.
Her voice is shaking. She points with her flashlight. Around the circle, toward the outer edge, kneels a group of four people, two men and two women, as insensible as all the rest.
They are Joy Novak, William Hardcastle, Vanya Kapoor, and Martin Carreau.
PART FOUR
THIS ROUGH MAGIC
VIDEO EVIDENCE
Recorded by Joy Novak
AUGUST 14, 2003, TIME UNKNOWN
Sophia—which one is, at this point, unclear—slips from her Novak’s hold and walks toward the kneeling figures. Joy grabs for her but doesn’t seem willing to move closer to her double. Sophia reaches out and presses her hands against the kneeling Joy’s cheeks.
SOPHIA: Mama? Wake up. Mama, talk.
She looks back.
SOPHIA: Why she doesn’t talk?
HARDCASTLE: They’re doubles. Those are our doubles; they’re not real.
KAPOOR: Don’t be obtuse, Will. This explains everything quite neatly, doesn’t it? Vanya and William did go down toward the beach. We’re the ones that came back. Carolyn—
NOVAK: She must have been replaced before we even got to the church. When we were separated in the mist.
KAPOOR: They tried to bring the real one here, but she got away somehow. And we found her. We killed her.
Her voice is almost clinical—almost. An edge of disgust seeps through.
NOVAK: No, you didn’t. I did.
KAPOOR: You didn’t know.
HARDCASTLE: I am William Hardcastle. I’m me. I’m not some . . . doppelganger.
KAPOOR: That’s exactly what you are, Will.
NOVAK: How could we not know? I feel like Joy Novak. I don’t remember being anyone else.
Carreau giggles. They look at him sharply. He spreads his hands.
CARREAU: You should see your faces.
He laughs—laughs until he wheezes, bending over at the waist.
CARREAU: Caro arrow row oh, such a lovely echo we made of her, and then you put a bullet in its brain. But you were just the same!
HARDCASTLE: Jesus, Martin.
CARREAU: No, neither, I’m afraid.
He stops laughing abruptly and stands up straight. His head gives an avian tilt, and he clicks his teeth together three times rapidly.
CARREAU: We eat their memories, and for a time they seem like truth. But it doesn’t last, doesn’t last. We can’t hold on in the face of the song. And it’s so, so nice to surrender.
KAPOOR: Then you know what you are.
CARREAU: Oh, oh. Yes. You’ll know soon too. Now that you’ve done what was needed.
NOVAK: What was needed?
Carreau looks at the Sophias, his grin wide and fixed.
CARREAU: You brought them here. They wouldn’t have followed if you didn’t believe.
Novak moves now, grabbing both Sophias and pulling them away from Carreau.
NOVAK: What do you want with them?
CARREAU: We need them to open the gate. We’ve searched so long for the right child. There’s something special about little Sophie and her shadow, don’t you think?
At the edge of the room, the strange children move among the stones, their eyes gleaming with reflected