heightened awareness of his surroundings. They were on the Scottish estate, he saw. In the darkness, Quin had chosen the coordinates she knew best.
The youngest boy, the one Shinobu had just booted away, was lurching back to his feet. Nott. His name is Nott. He remembered that from their first encounter. Or did that name exist inside the focal? The other three boys were chasing Quin at full speed toward the commons.
They want the focal, but even more they want the athame of the Dreads, Shinobu thought, understanding something the focal had been whispering to him. They want these things because they belong to their master, the Middle Dread. Without him, they’re only nasty children. With him, they have a purpose.
But the Middle Dread is gone.
Shinobu looked down at his arms and legs. With the focal on his head, his limbs felt farther away, yet more responsive.
He sprinted after Quin.
The grass of the commons had grown unchecked for almost two years and was more than five feet high. The boys and Quin were in the midst of it, only the tops of their heads visible above the tall stalks. One of the boys struck Quin hard with his fist.
“Hey!” Shinobu yelled.
His mind and the focal were humming together, and he saw every move he must make in order to beat these boys. This was his own knowledge and fighting experience, being clarified by the focal; it felt different from the other things he’d felt inside the helmet—things that were new and secret.
As he got closer, he saw that all of the attackers were badly injured. Their faces were ashen, and their initial burst of energy was gone. He plowed into them at full speed, knocking them into each other. One of the older attackers lost his whipsword in the impact. The boy chased after it and kept running.
Another opponent, one Shinobu had seen before—Wilkin—looked desperate. His face was bruised and he was bleeding heavily from his nose. Shinobu lunged menacingly, and that was enough. Wilkin stumbled away through the high grass, and Nott followed at a distance.
The oldest boy, dark-skinned and tall, the one wearing the focal, had Quin pinned to the ground only yards away. He was standing on one of her arms, his whipsword raised to strike.
He’s going to kill her, Shinobu thought. And I’m too far away…
He felt a surge of terror. The helmet screeched in his ears. His own thoughts and the focal were suddenly at odds, as though his panic could not mix properly with the intense awareness brought by the helmet. Immediately his mind began to argue with itself.
Quin.
The boys—I wanted to find them.
Quin. He’s going to strike her!
She’s not important. The boys are what matters.
She’s all that matters. Quin!
The whipsword flashed down at Quin’s head. She rolled herself onto the boy’s boots, and the sword hit the grass behind her.
Her assailant raised it again. He wouldn’t miss a second time.
I was looking for the boys. They can be used.
I don’t care. Quin! Quin!
There was a vibration in the focal so high and sharp, it felt like metal picks in his ears. The pain became deeper, overwhelming, as though Shinobu’s mind were being torn in half. He cried out as he trampled through the grass.
Maybe I want something different, he thought.
No! I know what I want.
He flicked his wrist, collapsing his own whipsword. Then he cracked it out as a whip. The oily black substance wrapped around the boy’s arm, and he yanked him off Quin. Shinobu twisted his wrist hard, drawing the whip back and forming it into a sword. He raised it to strike.
The moment her arm was released, Quin took hold of her own whipsword and was back on her feet. The boy in the focal, bleeding and exhausted, looked at both of them and knew he was beaten. He ran after the other three, who were already at the edge of the forest.
Quin took a few steps after him, then collapsed. Shinobu ran to her.
“Hey,” she whispered when she saw him above her. Her dark eyes were unfocused, her hair spread out on the broken stalks of grass.
“Hey,” he said, kneeling down.
He gently checked her for wounds, but there was no blood. Quin, he thought. Why had he cared anything about those boys? He’d gotten confused. No one mattered but Quin.
“He hit my head,” she whispered. “I thought I’d lie here for a minute…”
A vibration reached them from the woods. The boys were using an athame.