Dorothy swallowed, finally letting her gaze drift over to Ash’s face. She was standing above him on the Fairmont steps while he knelt on the docks several feet below, his head lifted, a worried crease between his brows. He stood very slowly, the canister of exotic matter clenched in one hand.

“Why would I care what happens to her?” he asked. He was dusting the dirt from his trousers, and so Dorothy couldn’t see his face, but his voice was thick with emotion. “She just tried to sell me to you.”

“He has a point, sweetheart,” Mac said.

Dorothy felt his breath on her ear and had to work hard not to cringe.

“Ash.” She had to force his name through her lips. He looked at her, his eyes narrowing and for a long moment, Dorothy just stared back at him, studying those golden eyes and thinking of the first time they’d met. What had he said to her?

Excuse me for saying so, miss, but it seems like you meant to get lost.

She smiled now, remembering. Her mind felt strangely blank.

Ash frowned, waiting for her to speak. To beg for her life, perhaps, or else beg him to trust her again. She had no intention of doing either. Everything she could think to say seemed so small and stupid. What’s done was done and, now, all they could do was wait to see how the rest of this would play out.

She said simply, “I wouldn’t trust him, if I were you.”

The edge of Ash’s mouth flicked, the beginning of a smile.

Mac swore, his grip around her shoulders tightening. Dorothy heard a click.

Down on the dock, Ash shouted, “No—”

Dorothy was vaguely aware of movement, Ash struggling to make his way up the stairs, the Freaks closing in around him. All of that seemed very far away just now. Dorothy clenched her eyes shut, every muscle in her body pulling tight—

Mac pulled the trigger, and a sound like fireworks filled her ears, the blast crashing around the inside of her skull. She tried to take a breath, but it was as though someone was holding her lungs in their hand, squeezing. Black lights burst before her eyes and pain tore through her. And then . . .

Well, and then there was nothing for a little while.

34

Ash

The shot echoed through Ash’s head, seeming to ring in his ears long after it should’ve gone silent.

Time hitched. He almost thought it was a time-travel thing, how the world around him seemed to slow down so that he saw every moment of what happened next in vivid, excruciating slow motion.

Dorothy went limp in Mac’s arms, her head lolling to the side as blood spread over her temple. Ash stared at her, his eyes not quite focusing. He couldn’t make himself believe what had just happened.