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  “You have a knife?” Boadicea said softly. “It is hers. She was angered that you took it. It has some power.”

  “Adam made a rubbing of the handle,” Darci said, obviously unambiguous about Boadicea’s trustworthiness. “And he sent the rubbing to a woman somewhere, but she never replied,” Darci said; then she looked at Adam, who had his face down. “Why you rotten, low-down, lying—” Darci began. “She did tell you what was written on the handle, didn’t she? But you didn’t tell me.”

  Adam moved to sit on the other bed. This practice of revealing what he knew was strange to him, and, as a result, it was very difficult. But now there were three people looking at him expectantly. “It . . .” he began hesitantly, “it is a knife that was once used for making sacrifices. It’s a blood knife. Darci,” he said, looking at her, his eyes pleading. “I don’t want you to go with us tonight.”

  “Just me,” she said flatly. “The others can go with you, but I can’t. Is that right? Is that what you have in mind?”

  “The danger is to you and you alone,” Boadicea said in her solemn manner. “We may be killed, but you would be sacrificed.”

  That statement effectively stopped the others from speaking.

  “Pardon my stupidity, but what the hell’s the difference?” Adam finally snapped, then shot a look at Darci that she wasn’t to tell him not to curse.

  At Adam’s hostile manner, Boadicea closed her mouth and looked as though she might never say another word.

  “Duration,” Taylor said quietly. “Dying quickly is different from dying slowly.”

  Adam stood up. “Darci is not going,” he said flatly.

  Come to me, Darci heard in her head. “What?” she asked, looking up at Adam.

  “I said that you aren’t going and that’s final. Look, I made arrangements with the owner of this motel to use his car tonight. It’ll get us to Camwell and back, but I think we can do what we need to without Darci. You,” he said to his sister. “Do you know your way around the tunnels? That is, assuming that’s where she’s planning to ...to ...with the children.”

  “Yes,” Boadicea said, “she uses the tunnels for that. I have never been to them, but I know them in my head.”

  With every thought that passed through his mind, Adam grew angrier—and his anger was directed toward Boadicea. “Couldn’t you have done something to stop her? You were with her for years. Couldn’t you have at least tried to escape during that time? Couldn’t you have—”

  He broke off because Boadicea stood up; then she pulled her skirt up to expose one long, shapely leg. But it was a leg that bore many scars, some of them long, some of them round and raised.

  “Shall I show you more?” she asked, with no anger in her voice. “Perhaps you would like to see my back. I gave up trying to escape her when she stopped taking her rage out on me and began to take it out on others. She presented me with the body part of a child and told me that there would be another one given to me every time I tried to escape. After that I asked the mirror if I would ever get away from her, and that’s when I saw the three of you. I have waited for you three for six years. I have waited quietly, and therefore no more children were killed because of me.”

  She cocked her head at Adam. “Did I do wrong? If you had been in my place, would you have run away again, knowing that if you did, an untold number of innocent children would be tortured, then murdered because of you? Tell me, I am interested in your answer.”

  The three of them didn’t know if Boadicea was being sarcastic, or if she was actually asking a question, but, whichever, no one had an answer to that horrible question.

  “He’s sorry,” Darci said. “He has a very bad temper, and he sometimes says things that he doesn’t mean. Please forgive him.” Come to me, she heard again in her head. Leave them and come to me. Darci put her hand to her forehead as she realized that the words were coming inside her mind and not from anyone in this room.

  “You are not well,” Boadicea said, looking at Darci. “No, it’s nothing,” Darci said. “I’m fine. I just had a knock on my head yesterday, and it still aches a bit, that’s all. It’s the men who were injured. Adam, how are your ribs? And ...Dad,how’s your arm?”

  “Fine,” Taylor said, smiling at her having called him “Dad.”

  Come to me, or I will kill them.

  The words were more clear with each syllable—and Darci knew who was speaking to her inside her head. This is between you and me, isn’t it? Darci sent back to the voice in her head; then she looked at Adam to see if he’d heard her thoughts. But Adam was still looking at his sister, still contemplating what she’d told them.

  The sound of laughter echoed inside Darci’s head, making her temples throb and her eyes blink at the force of the sound. Oh, yes, the voice said. You and me. No one else. There was the laugh again. Unless you want to lose them all, come to me.

  Darci said, “Excuse me, I need. . . .” She got off the bed and went into the bathroom. Once she was alone in the little room, she sat down on the lid of the toilet and closed her eyes. Through the door she could hear the low, flat tone of Boadicea’s voice and guessed that she was telling the men something about her existence in captivity.

  Now Darci sat in silence and listened, waiting for this person to tell her what she was to do. She was afraid to try to say more to the voice in her head for fear that Adam would hear her.

  Darci wasn’t practiced at doing this, but she put her head back against the porcelain tank, closed her eyes, and tried her best to listen.

  This is between you and me, the voice said. Between us two witches.

  No, Darci thought. No, no, no! I am not a witch. The power I have is good.

  Even though Darci wasn’t projecting her thoughts as she’d learned to do with Adam, it was as though the voice could hear what she was thinking. This person—this woman, as it seemed more like a female voice—could hear whatever Darci thought.

  If you are good, then you will save them. Shall I show you what I have done?

  “No!” Darci said out loud.

  “Darci, baby, are you all right?” Adam called from the other side of the door.

  “Fine,” she answered. “Would it be all right if I got into the tub and soaked for a while?”

  “Sure,” Adam said, chuckling. “Take your time.”

  Darci turned on both tub taps full blast so the noise would disguise any sounds she made. I want nothing to do with you, she thought. Nothing.

  But involuntarily, there came into her mind a vision. It was as though a video were playing inside her head. She saw the back of this woman, a tall, thin woman, wearing an elaborate headdress and a robe of what looked to be red velvet. In front of her was a tall stone altar and on it was a child being held down by three hooded men.

  No, no, no, Darci said in her mind as she put her hands over her face. She would have recognized that face anywhere at any age. The child on the altar was Adam at three years old.

  “Darci?” came Adam’s voice again as he lightly tapped on the door.

  “Can’t a girl have a good cry in peace?” she snapped at him.

  “All right,” he said softly, “but if you need me, I’m here.” Darci’s thoughts were on the vision that was playing inside her head. Make it go away, she thought. Please, God, make it stop. In a scary movie, you could close your eyes and not see the bloody parts, but now she couldn’t block out the vision, for the video was inside her mind. No, please. She walked to the little bathroom window and looked out, but the view in front of her didn’t stop what she was seeing inside her mind.

  The thin woman took a knife and made deep cuts into the child’s skin. Then she lifted a red-hot branding iron from a fire,and....”Oh,God,”Darci said, then went to her knees, her hands over her face. When the iron touched the delicate flesh of the child, Darci had to grab a towel and stuff it into her mouth to keep from screaming aloud. It was as if she were there. She could see everything. She could hear the child’s screams. Oh, God. She could sm