“You’re saying I’ve … I’ve been here before?” Multiple contacts with this thing? In this place? But didn’t every contact leave a stain? How infected with it was she?
“BINGO!” The whisper-man gave Rima’s right knee an exaggerated by-golly slap that left a palm-sized splotch on her jeans that swiftly turned the color of blackberry jam. “BY GOD, YOU’RE A BRIGHT SONUVAGUN. BUT IT WASN’T AS SIMPLE AS ALL THAT. IT WAS ALSO A MATTER OF EMMA COMING INTO HER OWN, MARSHALLING THE RIGHT ABILITIES HERE AND, WELL, IN THAT LIFE SHE’S MADE FOR HERSELF. EACH OF YOU HAS A GIFT, MY BOY, WHETHER YOU KNOW IT OR NOT. BUT ONLY ONE OF YOU HAS THE GIFT I NEED.”
“What’s that?” asked Casey. “Who?”
“WHY, THE GIFT THAT KEEPS ON GIVING, SON. I NEED SOMEONE WHO CAN CARRY A WHISPER, AN ENERGY AS STRONG AS MINE, WITHOUT COMING APART AT THE SEAMS. I NEED A MIND THAT CAN ABSORB ME WITHOUT GOING TOO MAD, SO WE CAN PLAY TOGETHER FOR A NICE, LONNNG TIME ACROSS THE NOWS,” the whisper-man said. When it smiled, Rima’s lower lip split in two to sag from her teeth. “I NEED THE GIFT, CASEY, OF YOU.”
ERIC
Write the Person
“NO.” ERIC MOVED to put himself between Casey and the whisper-man. “You can’t have him. You can’t have any of us.”
“OH, I BEG TO DIFFER.” Rima’s clothes were drenched now, and blood painted every inch of her face. “SEEMS I ALREADY GOT LITTLE RIMA NOW, HAVEN’T I? IF YOU DON’T HURRY, YOU WON’T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT ME LETTING HER GO EITHER. SHE’LL JUST DIE, AND IT WON’T BE PRETTY. OH NO, IT WON’T BE PRETTY AT ALL.”
As if to put the period to that, a fresh split opened on Rima’s throat with a meaty rip to reveal a faint glimmer of tendon and red, wet muscle. Eric felt a fresh surge of anger at their helplessness—at his. No one could lose that much blood and survive. But this thing did have powers. “If you leave, will that save her? Can you heal her somehow?”
“OH, YOU BETCHA.” A tremor squirmed through Rima’s cheeks, and the whisper-man let out a sudden groan. “AHHH … WHOA, BOY, BETTER HURRY. SHE’S IN A LOT OF PAIN.”
“Eric,” Casey began.
“No. Don’t even think about it, Case.” Eric’s heart beat hard and loud in his ears. Cold sweat rimed his upper lip, and a cramp of fear grabbed his stomach. Being scared wasn’t bad, was it? His drill sergeant once said that anyone who wasn’t a little freaked out was a damn fool. The trick was not to let it paralyze you.
I can do this. I’ve been fighting one way or another for my whole life—against Big Earl, the odds. Myself. Just one last battle.
“Take me,” he said. “Use me.”
“No,” Emma said. “Eric, don’t.”
“SORRY, BOY,” the whisper-man said. “I DO SO ADMIRE YOU, BUT ONLY CASEY WILL DO.”
“It’s all right.” Except for the bruises, dread had bleached Casey’s skin until his face was nearly transparent. “I’ll do it.”
“Case, you can’t.” Eric’s hand tightened on Casey’s forearm. “I won’t let you.”
“But you heard it. I’m the only one who can save her.” Casey’s eyes were wet. “You’d do it for Emma or me. Please, Eric. Let me do this for her.”
“It’s a liar, Casey.” Emma’s tone was steely and sure. “No one can save her now, not even you.”
“But it said it would,” Casey said.
“YOU HAVE MY WORD ON THAT,” the whisper-man put in.
“Screw you,” Emma spat. “You don’t have that kind of power. If you did, Tony and Bode and Chad and Lily would be here. Lizzie died from the crash; I don’t see you healing her. Even if she’d lived, she couldn’t have held you forever. Eventually, you would’ve ripped her apart the way you’re killing Rima now. If you could heal like that, you could hop in and out of Lizzie, patch her up, wash, rinse, repeat a hundred times over. You wouldn’t need Casey.”
“I KEEP—AAHHH.” The thing grunted. Rima’s lips peeled away from teeth tinted orange with blood. Her upper lip trembled, then tore, the skin stretching and thinning and coming apart in wet threads. “I KEEP FORGETTING,” it said, using Rima’s hand to knuckle away blood, “WHAT A SMART LITTLE ORPHAN GIRL YOU ARE. WITH YOUR GIFTS, YOU AND I COULD GO FAR, BUT YOU’RE NOT STRONG ENOUGH TO HOLD ME EITHER. OURS WOULD BE A VERY SHORT UNION. LUCKY FOR ME, YOU STUMBLED ON HOW TO WRITE THE PERSON WHO COULD. OOOPS.” The whisper-man put a mangled hand to Rima’s ruined lips in mock dismay. “LET THE CAT OUT OF THE BAG. ME AND MY BIG, FAT, BLOODY MOUTH.”
“Write the person?” A feather of alarm stroked Eric’s neck. Emma, he saw, had gone very still. “Emma, what’s he talking about?”
“WHY, YOUR GIFTS, ERIC,” the whisper-man said. “HAVEN’T YOU WONDERED WHY YOU AND EMMA ARE, WELL, SUCH GOOD PALS, AND SO SOON, TOO? WHY YOU LIKE HER SO MUCH? WHY YOU ARE SO ATTRACTED, CARE SO MUCH ABOUT HER? EVEN THINK ALIKE? BET YOU COULD FINISH EACH OTHER’S SENTENCES, AM I RIGHT?”
“Eric?” he heard Casey say, but Eric couldn’t tear his eyes from the sudden anguish in Emma’s face. “Emma?” he said. “Emma, talk to me. Tell me, you can tell me.”
“Please,” Emma said—not to him, but to the whisper-man. Her voice was tiny and strained. “Please, don’t. Don’t do this.”
“Emma,” he said, a flower of dread growing in his chest. “Emma, no matter what it is, whatever this thing has to say … it won’t make any difference.”
“GOOD, LOYAL, STRONG, BRAVE, SMART ERIC,” the whisper-man said. “BUT OF COURSE, YOU’RE ALL THAT—BECAUSE THAT’S EXACTLY HOw EMMA WROTE YOU.”
ERIC
The Other Shoe Drops
“WHAT?” ERIC FELT his center crumple, like bricks tumbling from rotten mortar. “What?” He looked at Emma but couldn’t grab her eyes. “Emma, what’s he saying?”
“OH, COME ON, ERIC. YOU’RE SMART ENOUGH TO FIGURE THIS OUT. IN FACT, I ALREADY TOLD YOU THAT IT WAS A MATTER OF EMMA DEVELOPING HER ABILITIES, BUT NOT ONLY HERE. REMEMBER, SHE’S BEEN WRITING HER LIFE FOR QUITE SOME TIME. SHE JUST NEEDED TO WORK UP THE COURAGE TO TAKE THAT ONE LAST, EXTRA STEP.” The whisper-man sighed. “HATE TO BE THE ONE TO BREAK IT TO YOU, BUT YOU’RE NOT MCDERMOTT’S CREATION, ERIC. YOU’RE EMMA’S.”