The Reader exhaled heavily. “If we’re voting, we should include Ian and Van.”

Kori shook her head. “We’re not voting. We’re letting her go.”

“You’re not in charge, Kor.” I stepped in front of the door again. “I can’t let her go. Not yet.”

Kori glared up at me, something dangerous shining in her dark eyes. “Then kill her.”

I blinked at my sister, waiting for the punch line. Because surely that was a joke. We only kill those who pose a threat.

But no punch line came.

“Kori, I’m not going to kill her.”

She shrugged, looking up at me. “Then let her go. Those are your options. You kidnapped her, scared the crap out of her, bound her hands, then tied her to a chair. There’s a very good reason she doesn’t want to be here. So put her out of her misery. Release her, one way or another.”

And that’s when I understood. Kori had spent six weeks locked up in Tower’s basement. She doesn’t talk about it, but we all know she was tortured. Of course she would be in favor of letting the prisoner go, regardless of the extenuating circumstances. Even if the prisoner wasn’t really a prisoner.

“I’m trying to help her, Kori. And I’m trying to let her help us.” Even if I didn’t understand the specifics of either scenario yet.

“Listen to me.” My sister stood on her toes and leaned closer so that I couldn’t possibly misunderstand. “We. Don’t. Lock. People. Up.”

“I’m not—”

But before I could figure out how to finish that sentence, Kori’s phone buzzed. She pulled it from her pocket and frowned. “Olivia’s freaking out about something. I’ll be right back.” She reached past me for the doorknob, and I only let her through because getting her out of the house for a while seemed like a good idea. “While I’m gone, you either let Sera go, put her out of her misery, or convince her to stay of her own volition. If you can’t get the job done, I’ll do it myself.”

I glanced at Anne, who could only shrug while Kori stomped down the hall, then down the stairs. “She’s right.”

I groaned. “Why do you always take her side?”

“I don’t.” Anne crossed her arms over her chest. “As you might recall, she once kidnapped my daughter. But this time, she’s right, and if you don’t make a call, she’ll fight you for it.”

“I know.” I sank into my desk chair again and glanced up at Anne. “My very earliest memories is the day my mom went into labor with Kori. As they were leaving for the hospital, I begged them to bring home a baby brother for me. Life’s been screwing me ever since.”

Seven

Sera

After the Reader went upstairs to find Kris and Kori, her daughter sat next to me on the couch with a glass of chocolate milk. I tried to ignore her, not because I didn’t know how to talk to children, but because I didn’t know how to talk to that particular child. And because, honestly, I agreed with Gran—she was more than a little creepy.

For several minutes, Hadley sipped from her bendy straw and watched cartoons while I tried to puzzle out my next move. I’d decided there had to be an emergency exit, aside from the one I’d created from a broken kitchen window, which Ian was patching with a sheet of plywood. As far as I could tell, Kris and Kori were the only shadow-walkers in the house, so there had to be an easy way out for the rest of them. What if there was a burglary? Or a fire?

There was another way out. I just had to find it.

“Where’s the baby?” Hadley said from my left, but she had to repeat the question with a tug on my sleeve before I realized she was talking to me.

“I’m sorry?” Surely I’d heard her wrong.

Her big, round eyes blinked up at me. “Can I hold it?” When I couldn’t figure out how to respond, she continued. “Is it a girl baby or a boy baby? I love babies, but I like girl babies better.”

“Um...I don’t have a baby.” My foot began to tap. My knee jiggled on the lower edge of my vision.

“Then who is the cradle for?”

“What cradle?” My chest felt tight. I had to open my mouth to suck in more oxygen than my nose could handle at one time.

“The wooden one, on rockers.” Hadley frowned up at me, as if I were being intentionally obtuse. “You know. In the striped room.”

My stomach tried to launch itself through my torso and out my throat. I had to swallow convulsively to keep my lunch down. There was only one cradle she could possibly have assumed was mine. I twisted on the couch to face her fully. “You saw the cradle?” That last word cracked in half and fell from my lips in jagged pieces.

Hadley nodded.

“What color were the stripes on the walls?” I demanded, my voice both fragile and sharp, like a thin sliver of glass.

“Green and yellow.” Hadley frowned, as though she was trying to remember. “And purple. Light purple,” she said, and my next breath escaped on a sob.

My dad had been so thrilled to find out he was going to be a grandfather, despite the circumstances, that he’d given up his home office to make room for the baby, even though it wasn’t due for five more months. He’d painted the walls himself. He’d even gotten the cradle down from the attic, where it had been since Nadia outgrew it. That cradle had been in his family for generations. He was so excited by the thought of using it again.