Chapter 22 · Door Number Two

"Nia." Jonah's voice. His face. But his eyes are black all the way through.

No white. No iris. Just that wet oil-slick shine, and when he smiles it doesn't move right. Too wide. Too even.

"You shouldn't be here," he says, and the rhythm's wrong. Off by half a beat.

I grab his arm. Skin's cold through the jacket, and the mark on his neck's still bleeding. Fresh red against pale. "Jonah. We're leaving. Right now."

He doesn't pull away. Just stands there smiling, and behind him the whole street of marked people have stopped moving. All of them facing the tower. Swaying. The red light from the top pulses like a heartbeat.

"Can't leave," Jonah says. "Door's already open."

Rafe's hand closes on my shoulder. "Nia. That's not your brother."

"The hell it's not—"

"Look at his feet."

I look down.

Jonah's not touching the ground. Maybe an inch off the pavement, toes dragging, and his shadow's pointing the wrong way for the streetlight.

I let go. Step back.

The thing wearing Jonah tilts its head. "You used to be smarter, Nia. You used to know when to stop."

"Where is he?" My voice cracks. "Where's my brother?"

"Basement.