business.”
“Business?”
“Yes. See, I can’t exactly fit in anymore. You and your associates ruined all that. I was one of the favorites, you know.
More human than human. But now…”
Quinn pushed a vein on his cheek and a wisp of black smoke seeped out.
“Now I’m just a screwup. And my lot doesn’t take kindly to screwups. I’ve been cast out.”
Reggie stayed silent. The Vour inside Quinn had spewed so many lies in the past. It had lived inside the shell of another
boy for who knew how many years, and everything it said or did or
was
had been sculpted from lies.
“What can I say, doll? The hunter has become the hunted.”
“The other Vours want to destroy you?”
“Hurt, maim, torture. And then, when they’re done having their fun, yes. Destroy. For good.”
“Sounds fine to me,” Reggie said.
Quinn patted her bare foot, and her skin crawled at his touch. She remembered the power it possessed, the freakish ability
it had to conjure terrible and paralyzing fears when in contact with a victim. She kicked his hand away.
“What do you want?”
“Simple. Revenge.”
“On me?”
Quinn cupped her cheek with his hand.
“Eventually, maybe. But no, not now. My beef is with my brethren, and I need your help.”
Reggie shook him off.
“Never.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion.” He slithered up the side of the bed like a snake, his icy eyes opened wide. “I don’t care
what you want, or what you think.”
He touched her foot again, and Reggie could not move.
“You will give me exactly what I need, Reggie. And when you do, maybe I’ll spare your family. Maybe I’ll spare your sanity.”
He tickled his fingers up her calf like a spider’s legs.
“Maybe not.”
Reggie squirmed and slapped his hand away. She wanted to scream, she wanted to hurt him before he could hurt anyone else,
but her muscles could only tremble beneath her skin. The fear felt like a straitjacket.
Quinn stood up and stretched.
“I can’t believe you don’t see the beauty of this partnership. Bringing down the Vours is as good for you as it is for me.”
“You’re an evil bastard.”
“I know.” Quinn walked to the bedroom door. “But we have a common enemy now. Sweet dreams, princess. I’ll be in touch.”
6
Reggie sat huddled at the head of her bed. She could barely stretch out on her mattress, much less sleep. She turned on all
the lights.
Quinn was alive. And he had been in her bedroom. Reggie tried to shake the terror away.
She’d read through two study guides, a magazine, and four comic books by the time the sun rose, and then she decided to clean
her room. Finally, at 8:30, she thought it was late enough to call the Coles’.
Their answering machine picked up after a few rings, but as Reggie was leaving a message she heard a click, and Aaron’s mother’s
voice came over the line.
“Oh, Reggie, is that you? I’m sorry, we’ve been screening our calls. There’s been some press.”
“Is Aaron okay? Is he home?”
“He’s home, yes.” Dr. Cole’s voice was strained. “We got him out early this morning.”
“Is it… would it be all right if I came over?”
Reggie could hear the woman’s hesitation.
“Please,” Reggie begged. “Just for a bit. I’d like to see him, see if there’s anything I can do.”
“And I’m sure he’d like to see you,” Dr. Cole replied. “I guess that would be fine.”
As Reggie was pulling on her jeans the memory of Quinn’s fingers creeping up her leg turned her stomach. She attempted, unsuccessfully,
to block it out. So instead, she spent most of the fifteen-minute walk over to Aaron’s house trying to figure out how to tell
him about Quinn. Or if she should even tell him at all.
But all thoughts of Quinn vanished when Reggie rounded the corner onto Aaron’s block. Dr. Cole had vastly understated when
she’d said there’d been “some press.”
Parked cars and TV news vans lined the street in