Before she could collect herself, he flipped her neatly onto her back and yanked up her shirt.

She tried to cover herself, but he batted her hands away and bent over her stomach to examine something there. A light finger traced the edge of her navel. It was almost a caress.

“Hmmm,” the monster said.

The girl squirmed, but he had her pinned.

“Maybe,” he said, softly to himself. “Maybe.”

In a way, it was worse than getting hit, having his soft finger glide across her bare belly. It sent shivers all through her and made bile rise in her throat. She wanted to cover her skin so badly. Wash it. Reclaim it.

“All right, let’s go,” the monster said, gaining his feet and yanking her up with him. “We have a long journey ahead of us.”

She pushed her shirt down as fast as she could, wobbling on her feet. Her pee-soaked pants already chafed the skin of her inner thighs. “Are you going to kill me now?” she asked. She needed a weapon. The meat knife would be perfect, but there was no way she’d find it in all this rubble.

“Not yet,” he said with a shrug. “If we find your lapis, you might be with us for a very, very long time.”

Being with him a very, very long time was probably a very, very bad thing. But it also meant she might live long enough to escape.

She said, “You should look in the cellar. Mamá keeps things there.” She didn’t look him in the eye when she said it, because she was terrible at tricking people, and he’d surely read her intentions on her face.

A long moment passed. If the monster was smart, he’d tie her up and explore the cellar himself, and she couldn’t let that happen.

So she added, “Mamá has a secret place down there. I can show you.”

That decided him. “You go first. I’ll be right behind you.” The sparkle stone dangling at his chest began to glow, and its anger stirred deep in her soul. It made her insides fuzzy and hot. The monster was preparing to use his awful magic.

The girl moved fast, practically throwing herself into the hole. She was still dizzy from the blow to her head, so her foot missed the first rung and she slid halfway down before catching herself with a grip that made the skin of her palms scream. She dropped the rest of the way and landed on her wet bottom.

The cellar felt cool and comforting and familiar, and it gave her strength. As the ladder creaked with the monster’s descent, she launched herself into the dark corner where Mamá kept a shelf for dry goods—nearly empty of food this late in the year, but the skinning knife should still be there.

“Girl, show yourself,” the monster ordered. He had reached the floor of the cellar, but he wasn’t used to the dark like she was.

“Over here,” she said, her fingers closing around the knife handle.