Touch

Eleventh

Lucas paced around the monster master bedroom while Katie sat on the bed and thought, absently rubbing the tourniquet he had fashioned for her arm. He hadn't had the opportunity to admire Will and Tasha Pops' retreat beforehand, but panic was dulling and his mind could process images now.

The bed was king-sized at least, framed by wooden baldachin pillars from which iridescent, gossamer, golden swathes of fabric hung. The sheets were white, the zillion pillars bronze, the mattress soft like a cloud. Framed oil paintings added a rustic charm to the modern look of the room's light beige carpets and light grey walls. A desk and computer betrayed one of Tasha Pops' favourite hobbies: surfing the web aimlessly. Authentic, expensive rugs littered the floor like some kind of Persian vomit.

So this was what money looked like, Lucas thought, staring at the French doors which opened up to a balcony.

A balcony!

An outside!

"Maybe we don't need to hunt the hand," Lucas said.

Katie twirled the gun between her hands. She had never fired one before, but something told her it would be exhilarating.

Somehow, she knew.

She would like it.

"I want to hurt them," Katie said roughly. "I want to hunt them." Her face was sticky from all her tears.

"You don't know the first thing about these hands. Neither of us does. And you said they can come out of nowhere."

"There are limitations," she muttered through her teeth--her shoulder burned. "I'm sure of it."

"No, you're not." Lucas was savouring this victory, savouring being right, like he always did. "We need to get out now. We need to get away. We can go onto the balcony and—"

"No."

"Katie—"

"I said no!" she shouted. "I refuse to run away. I refuse to let them get away with this." She turned away from him and murmured, "You don't have to help me. I only ever wanted your gun, anyway."

"You said we need to get through this—"

"And we will. Just watch."

Lucas hesitated. Every fibre in him was still reeling from the sight of the hands attacking Tasha. Every fibre in him wanted to run away, leave Katie behind, never look back. Save whatever precious sanity he had left. Find someplace where things made sense, then build a wall around it to keep the nonsensical out.

"I'll make it up to you. If you stay," Katie said.

"How could you—?"

She crossed, then uncrossed her legs. "You know how."

Lucas burned. He licked his lips. "Okay. Okay. What's your plan?"

Katie stood up. "The first step is to find my dad."