The man on my left and the woman on my right close in until they’re touching my elbows, until a focused pressure against my rib cage from either side lets me know what it feels like to have a gun pressed up against you. My head spins. “You’re with the Brotherhood, aren’t you?”

“We are the ones sworn to protect humanity against the inhuman scourge,” he reports in a tone devoid of emotion. “We are humankind’s first and last line of defense against darkness and the creatures of the night.” The man steps closer, one hand stuffed in his coat pocket—and the way it’s pointing at my stomach makes me pretty sure that everybody brought a gun to the gunfight except for me. “I don’t know how much of you remains August Pfeiffer, but I’m speaking to him right now. The entity that is inside of you is a threat to every mortal being on the planet, and it must be stopped.”

“You’re going to kill me.” This isn’t the first time I’ve faced death in the past couple of weeks, but surprisingly enough, it hasn’t gotten any easier. The moisture that belongs in my mouth is making an icy streak down my back.

“If you live, the world dies,” the woman on my right declares, her voice startlingly soft. “And we cannot let that happen.”

“We are well past the point of caution.” Salt-and-Pepper’s eyes darken. “So if you resist, you die here, in spite of potential witnesses. But if you come with us, we will give you a chance to prepare messages for your loved ones.”

Nothing about their guns suggests they’re bluffing, and if I cooperate, at least I’ll get a chance to say goodbye to my parents. At least I’ll stay alive for a few more minutes. I nod my agreement, because I don’t trust myself to speak, and the whole time I’m counting my breaths. How many more do I get to take? How much more time do I have to enjoy the smell of fresh air and the color pink?

I expect them to shove me into a van, to take me to a reservoir or an abandoned building, and so my panic redoubles when they lead me only thirty feet away—to a metal door set in the side of the mall, propped ajar with a stone. It opens into an unadorned corridor of painted concrete—a hidden part of the shopping center meant only for employees to use—and before we can encounter another human being, they hustle me through a second door and into a disused storeroom.