Before Nix turned away, they shared a moment of silent eye contact. Benny ached to say so many things, and he was sure Nix did too. It was just that . . . he was afraid to hear what those things were. Her thoughts, and his.

He turned away first, and the ground seemed to be tilting under him, as if the world was no longer properly mounted on its axis and everything was tipping the wrong way.

I want to go home, he thought.

Deep inside his mind, Tom whispered, Be careful, little brother, or you’re going to lose Nix forever. Everything’s hanging by a thread.

They began walking, angling through a dry wash that was thick with tumbleweeds.

“I like the slingshot,” observed Benny, half because it was true and half because he felt a peevish desire to score a point on Nix. “Quiet and nasty. We should get one. Chong used to be pretty good with one; maybe we could all learn.”

“Slingshots are stupid,” muttered Nix. “Something a kid would use.”

“That girl was pretty tough,” Benny said.

“You thought that cow looked pretty?”

“I said ‘pretty tough,’ Nix. Don’t start, okay? She was tough and dangerous with that slingshot and the firecrackers and all. Saved us from the lions.”

“Oh, please,” sneered Nix. “And what kind of name is ‘Riot’ anyway?”

Suddenly there was movement behind them, deeper inside the forest. They spun around and saw another man standing a mere dozen paces away.

The stranger was tall, with dark eyes set so deep that they made his pale face look skeletal. His head was shaved, and his entire scalp was tattooed with a pattern of thorny vines. He wore black trousers and a billowy black shirt, and his legs and arms were wrapped with bloodred ribbons. On his shirtfront was a beautifully rendered chalk drawing of angel wings.

A reaper.

In Benny’s mind, Tom’s voice whispered, Benny . . . run.

Chapter 31

31

CHONG DID NOT MOVE.

The reaper cut the air with the scythe again and again. With each pass he called out in a gravelly voice. “Hiding only makes it worse. The darkness wants to take you. Give in to it and there is only beauty. A touch is all, and then you are free. Free!”

Chong held his breath.

The reaper listened to the silence and shook his head. “Struggle against it and you beg for pain.”

It was clear that the reaper did not know exactly where he was; he kept turning, shouting to different parts of the surrounding woods. It was a trick, and not a very good one, Chong mused. No one would be crazy enough to fall for it.

Then a second man stepped out of the woods on the far side of the clearing.

It was Carter. His clothes were torn and splashed with blood, and his hair and eyes were wild.