“Now isn’t this sweet,” Del said. “I was thinking you might need a little further convincing so I let you bring your best shot here to give you a hand at escaping. But, little sister, that’s never going to happen.” His gaze went to me. “So, what do you say, boy? You going to show me what you’ve got?”

And then he laughed at me.

I knew what he was thinking. He had weight on me and reach, and he could probably fight better, too. But I had the Riddell temper on my side. Christy and I had both learned to keep it in check, determined we weren’t going to be like our father. Our brother Paddy hadn’t been so lucky. He’d ended up in prison where he’d finally hung himself. But before that, he’d been a crazy man. He’d had Dad’s temper and his own brawn, and he liked to fight pretty much more than anything. It didn’t matter the odds, because once his temper kicked in, he didn’t feel the pain anymore. He just kept on coming until either his opponents went down or he did.

That was what was going to happen here. It didn’t matter what Del threw at me or how much it hurt, I was going to keep on coming until he couldn’t touch Jilly again.

But I didn’t get to lay a punch.

He did a little wave of his hand before I could reach him and something happened to my body. I felt a mild shock—like from static—and a high-pitched ringing in my ears. I could taste something odd in my mouth, like mulch, or dirt, and felt a spreading warmth go through me. I looked down and saw myself collapse onto the floor, changing and shrinking until all that was left was a small mess of leaves and mud and dead twigs, lying on the floor in the shape of a human being. Somewhere I could hear a child screaming.

At first, I was only dimly aware that the terrible cries came from Jilly. All I could do was stand and stare at what had become of my body. Then the incongruity struck me: how could I be standing and also looking at my body? The answer wasn’t hard to figure out, but I shied away from accepting it. Instead, I turned my attention to Jilly, whose gaze was locked on the mess upon the floor that had once been my flesh and blood.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. The wailing had subsided into a deep sobbing that shook her shoulders.

“It’s okay,” I told her. “Really. I’m still here. I don’t know what the hell that thing on the floor is, but it’s not me.”