“Chris?” said the voice. “Bad Chris, mad Chris. He’s far away, he is long gone, he is a monster, isn’t he, T-Tina? Yes he is, Mother. But Old Dave came to teach us a lesson, so Chris has gone to market to buy a bird skin to wrap his big brother in.”

“Dave?” said Gary. Trish shrugged. It was a common name in Inglewell, but I didn’t know an Old Dave.

“Mitch,” I said gently. “Listen.”

“Monster,” said the voice, contrite. “No Mitch, all monster. Only T-Tina wasn’t a monster, wasn’t she? Yes, Mother. You were clever.”

My skin crawled. Monsters. Yet my mother had spoken harshly about Gary and Trish, too, and here they were, helping. And this was my brother.

“Why was I clever?” I asked patiently. Gary and Trish had found another door beyond a row of shelving lined with tins; Gary had put the hammer down and was picking the lock.

“It was your idea, you got to stay, little piggy stayed home. The ground is so hard, T-Tina.”

“Hurry,” I said to Gary. My eyes stung.

Trish shook her head. “I’m not comfortable with this.”

“It’s Mitch!” I shouted. Gary grunted in agreement, or surprise.

“Maybe he’s locked in for a reason,” said Trish. “Let’s get my dad. After all this time, another hour or two won’t hurt.”

This is how the world can be made to work, my dad had said.

I steadied my breath. “Patricia,” I said, carefully. “You do want to help, don’t you?”

Trish paused, frowned. “Of course I do.”

Gary cleared his throat. “I’m on your side, Bettina,” he said, “but don’t try telling us what we want. Or what we are. That’s your mother talking.”

I opened my mouth to say my mother only ever asked, and to be like her was hardly an insult. But truth was shifting the way the land had when we drove: trees sliding behind trees.

“This is hardly time to discuss manners,” snapped Trish.

On the other side of the wall Mitch keened—a descending wail that sank into a low sob. Goosebumps ran down my back and arms.

I stood up, brushing dirt off my knees. They were filthy from kneeling on the floor.

“I’m going,” said Trish.

Let them go, my mother had said. They’re not worth your worry. You’re happy to be with me, without them. Aren’t you, Bettina? But that felt long ago. I had not been this far from my mother since my father left. Gary and Trish were mine.

“You—” I began, and saw the set of Gary’s shoulders. My friends. So I just said, “Please.”

Trish pulled her hair.

“Go if you want to,” I said. “I’m not leaving him.”