Daniel hefted the carry-all. Hugging the cubicle walls, he slipped around one side of the gallery, disappeared into an open door for a moment, reappeared and moved on around while Hannah held me still. I gave no thought to what he was doing. I could barely catch my breath, fighting the nausea and a burning need to scream and flail and beat my fists, while down below, the nightmare game continued.

“How . . . could . . . they . . . ?”

Hannah leaned into me. “Get a grip, girl. We know they’re animals.”

“But . . . but . . . why?” I bent over double, heaving.

“You think everything has a reason? Forget it.” Her voice poured calm into my ear. “Adders have no why. They just do. If you told them it was wrong, they wouldn’t understand the term.”

‘Animals’ didn’t half describe such . . . such what? Cruelty? Depravity? Evil? No word seemed extreme enough. My own Abel trauma paled by comparison. And she was right. I had to get a grip or be a hitch to any of us getting out of here alive. I wiped at my mouth and twisted in her grasp, trying to sit upright. When I made it to my knees, she let me go but kept her hand pressed to my back.

“That’s better.” She sounded almost kind, but it was more likely relief.

Daniel made the circuit of the gallery, ducked into a final doorway, then came toward us, bundling up the empty carry-all. He tossed it into the last cubicle he passed. He looked relieved but still grimly determined.

“Done,” he said to Hannah. “Take her down, okay. I need to check a few things.”

“No! No, you can’t!” I swiped at my mouth again. I must have looked as crazed as I felt, but I knew this was the moment Julian wanted me here for. “I’m not leaving with just her!”

“What? Why?”

“Because she’ll . . .” I didn’t really think Hannah would hurt me, but if he thought so . . .

“Safety in numbers. We go down together.” Hannah caught on quick.

Daniel looked back, scanning the balcony circle. “But if it doesn’t . . .”

“It will,” she said. “Dan. Now.”

His gaze at me was speculative. Then he shook his head. “Okay. Okay. Slow and quiet all the way.” He jabbed a finger my way. “No bolting.”

We moved into the dark stairway. Shielded from the loud chaos of the game, we could hear tumult on the lower landings. The crowd was breaking up. Daniel pulled up short, listening. There was a broken kind of group rhythm to it: door opening, boisterous entry, descent amid drunken bragging and trash talk, door closing, pause, repeat. If we timed it right, we could slip by in between.