Wincing, I pushed myself up, taking care not to put any pressure on my injured hand. Now that the fight was over, the pain was even worse. I only had to glance at the gash bisecting my palm to know it was going to need stitches. Even as I stared down at Blythe, I was wondering how I could explain this particular injury to my parents.

“Jesus,” David said, looking down at the blood dripping from my hand and arm. “Are you okay?”

When I stared at him wordlessly, he amended, “I mean, obviously you’re not, but . . . are you going to be?”

“I-I think so,” I told him, but to be honest, I felt a little faint. Not from the blood loss and the pain—although they were part of it—but from how close that blade had been to my throat. How all my supposed superpowers hadn’t counted for much when someone got the jump on me.

There was a little white cardigan hanging from the back of Blythe’s chair, and I grabbed it, wrapping it as tightly as I could around my bleeding hand. The wound in my arm still hurt, too, but it wasn’t as deep and it had already stopped bleeding.

“Why didn’t you feel anything?” David asked. “Isn’t that part of your whole deal? Like with the guys in the car?”

Staring down at Blythe, I shook my head. “Seems like I only feel that when someone’s after you. She was trying to kill me.”

David blinked. “So . . . your superpowers don’t help you defend yourself, too? That seems kind of unfair.”

It seemed a heck of a lot more than kind of unfair to me, but I didn’t say that to David. “Give me that lamp. Or what’s left of it,” I said. When he did, I ripped the cord out of the base, then nodded at Blythe, who was beginning to groan a little. “Help me get her in a chair.”

Once we did, I threaded the cord through the slats in the back of the chair, tying her hands tightly behind her back. Blythe stayed unconscious through the whole thing, blood dripping steadily from her nose, leaving bright red splotches next to all those little pink and green daisies on her dress.

“I can’t believe no one heard all that,” David said, gesturing to the blood on the carpet. Frowning, I looked up from the cord.

“Yeah, me neither. There aren’t many people here, but you would think someone would’ve heard me nearly getting murdered.”

Chewing on his thumbnail, David was still staring at the letter opener. It was lying on the carpet, edge gleaming in the fluorescent lights. “This is insane,” he said at last.

I gave the knot one last tug and sighed. “Yes. As has been established.”