Page 68 of Thorne
"Like nine and seven."
"Try it."
A pause. She's working. "Double eight is sixteen. Nine and seven are each one away from eight. So… No, that's not right …"
"You're thinking about it correctly." I prompt her. "Split the difference. Eight plus eight is sixteen. One more from the nine, one less from the seven. They cancel. Sixteen."
A pause.
"That's—the same."
"Yes."
"So when the numbers are far apart, the dinosaur finds the rock in the middle and jumps from there?"
"Exactly."
"And it's always the same as going the long way."
"The river always tells the truth." I smile in the darkness.
A short silence. She writes something down.
"Okay." A soft paper rustle as she gathers her sheets. "I think I have enough for tonight."
The measured satisfaction is that of a person closing a ledger, and it is such an adult phrase coming from a six-year-old that something in me almost surfaces before I can push it back down.
"Good." I press my hand against the cold wood. "Go. Quietly."
"Goodnight, Julianna."
The name in her mouth. The only person in this building who uses it without making it a transaction.
"Goodnight, Lily."
The air in the vent suddenly chills. A shadow falls across the light coming through the slot, heavy and suffocating.
"Lily-bug?"
The voice is low, terrifyingly calm. I freeze, my stomach dropping into my shoes. My heart stops. I've done the one thing Thorne explicitly forbade. I've touched his world. I've touched his daughter.
"Daddy!" Lily scrambles up with the breathless excitement of a six-year-old who knows she's been caught but can't contain what just happened to her. "Look! The pretty lady taught me the neighbor secret. I did the big-kid math in my head. I didn't make any mistakes, see? I have a high-engine brain. The numbers were already there, Daddy. I just didn't know how to look at them. She showed me how to look."
Through the narrow slit, I see the hem of Thorne's tactical trousers. He doesn't take the paper. He doesn't look at the door. Not yet.
"It's way past your bedtime, Lily-bug." Thorne's voice is like velvet wrapped around a razor blade, cold and terrifyingly calm. I hear the soft oomph as he hoists her onto his hip. "Let's get you tucked in. We'll talk aboutsecretsin the morning."
"But Julianna said …"
"Bed. Now."
The footsteps retreat, fading into a silence that feels heavier than the concrete. I stay flat on the floor, my heart slamming against my ribs. I've crossed the one line he drew in blood. I'vereached through the bars and touched his heart, and I know he's coming back to break me for it.
The heavy electronic lock on the safe room door doesn't just click; it screams as it disengages. It slams against the cinder block with a crack that vibrates through my teeth. Thorne is a shadow before he's inside, kicking the door shut behind him.
18
The Virus
