Nick held his breath, watching the others, trying to read their faces. Enoch's was a potent swirl of murderous intent and barely masked terror. His fingers twitched, unable to keep still. He had been in the middle of putting on a particularly violent battle with his figurines. By now they had probably slain each other and were lying motionless on the flat rock that had been their battleground. He couldn't go back for them now.

Fiona wouldn't look at anyone. Her knuckles were white where she clenched her apron. She had been chewing her lip, but now she just bit it hard, eyes downcast, her braids disheveled on either side.

And Olive...Olive said nothing, but her eyes burned.

Sand fell past the opening of their hiding place. The hollow was still there. They could hear him breathing. They could almost hear him lick his lips. The four of them were alone with him, grateful for the splash of the waves as sound cover but still terrified. They were out of ideas. Nick racked his brain, but it felt utterly depleted. Only a little bit of a life essence, just a little, would fix him up. But he couldn't do that now. He had to wait. The waiting tortured him. It was torturing them all.

"Little peculiars," the hollow crooned. "I know you're there. I can taste your scent. I can hear your little hearts beating. The waves will catch you even if I don't, you know that. Too bad none of you checked the tides…" His voice trailed off. He didn't need to finish the sentence. The four of them knew it had been a bad idea to run to the beach, but it was either that or face him, and even among them all they didn't have much power left.

Sweat trickled down the side of his face but he didn't wipe it away. The hollow knew they were hiding down there, yes, but if they didn't make a sound the hollow might not be galvanized into finishing his little game and actually attacking them again. Nick knew that would be the end. He also knew the hollow wasn't quite ready to end the game yet.

"I'm tired of waiting," the hollow whispered. Even with the surf they could hear his whisper. It seemed to echo in their hiding place and amplify in their ears. "I'm bored with you. I'll just let the tide take you. Goodbye, peculiars. See you never." They heard him saunter off, his boots scuffing at the sand and rock. A hollow the same age as Enoch. Or at least the age Enoch was in his own time. That was something none of them had seen before, especially not Nick.

A million questions spun merry-go-round-like through his head, the same ones over and over. How had he gotten here? What was he going to do? How could they beat the hollow? Why wasn't this place like the book? Would he get home? Where was home anyway? And what was he doing in this place? The constant cycle doubled his weariness and made his head ache.

"He's gone," breathed Olive. The fire in her eyes subsided just a little and she looked around at them all. "Finally."

Enoch let out a low growl of frustration. "We're not safe, though! Didn't you hear what he said?" He glanced past her at the sea. Already the water had reached past the faint boundary of seaweed and pebbles that had marked its previous extent. Not much time for them to leave the cave in the rock and trudge through the shallows to higher ground. It had been a very very bad idea to hide here. But potential danger was better than danger standing before them with white eyes, ready to unleash his monster on them.

"We've got to leave," Nick said. If only he had a source of power. "I'll go ahead. I led us here, I should lead us out." He rose from his crouching position, wincing at the sudden cramp in his leg, ready to venture out.

But Enoch was glaring at him. Glaring as if he wanted to remove Nick's heart and make a living dummy with it. "Oh? You should lead? The one who got us into this mess in the first place? I think not." He rose too, tight-fisted, his eyes locked on Nick's. "We wouldn't be here if it weren't for you!"

He had a point. It was Nick who had put them in the path of the hollow, Nick with his ignorance of the world and his aura of death. Those who carried death with them would sense that aura. They would be attracted to Nick's ability to kill. Horace had said so as soon as they met. But Nick hadn't let the hollow touch any of them. He had saved their lives. And Enoch didn't see that at all.

"Please," said Fiona, begging with her eyes too, "don't argue. You can argue all you want once we leave. But for now-"

Enoch ignored her. He couldn't stop now. Nick could see that. He could also see the tide rising. The fear in his stomach rose with it. He couldn't swim. They had to get out of there, and fast. But Enoch-

"We wouldn't be here if it weren't for your...your twistedness!" He was breathing hard now, gritting his teeth so the muscle stood out in his jaw. "You led the hollow to us! You put Olive in danger!"

"My twistedness…" Nick tasted the word, rolling it on his tongue with amusement but mostly indignation. Enoch thought he was twisted, did he? Enoch of the preserved hearts and Frankenstein-like mannequins? Enoch had no idea what twistedness was. Enoch hadn't been dismembered, put back together with metal, imprisoned, starved, and almost murdered at his father's command. Enoch didn't have a monster inside, screaming at him to take lives in order to live. He didn't know what that was like at all.

The first onset of water trickled into their hiding spot. Olive jumped and looked out to sea. Her hands started to glow with heat. Not much time. They had to get out of there. Already Nick could feel water in his worn-out sneakers, taunting him. But only part of him felt that. Twistedness. Monster. Murdered. Power. Panic jumbled his thoughts and separated them into untethered words. Murder. Power. Now.

"Let's go," Enoch grunted, turning his back on Nick and facing the sea. A second wave flowed around his feet. He started to splash his way out, one hand groping for Olive's back to guide her.

A moment later he gasped and fell to his knees in the wet sand. He gasped again, more of a choke than a breath.

"No!" Olive shouted. "Stop it! You'll kill him!" She tried to step between him and Nick. The invisible vacuum hit her too and she fell back against Enoch. Already his face was turning grey, his breathing ragged.

This was right. This was what he deserved. He deserved to have his life sucked away. Nick angled his cupped hands, pulling harder on his essence. The monster in his screamed in delight. Yes. More life. More power. And such power it was, fierce and wild and perfect for him. Olive had stumbled out of the way now, trying to get her breath back. Enoch writhed and fell backward, his face twisted in pain.

"Stop!" Fiona yelled. Nick didn't listen. "Stop!" she yelled again, and made a flinging motion. Nick laughed, and something in him turned away and hid from itself. He felt vines constrict around his legs, entangling him and inching toward his arms. Then his arms were jerked down and pinioned in place with runners as thick as his fingers.

"No more," Olive whispered as Fiona stepped back, breathing heavily. Enoch coughed weakly and struggled to sit up.

Nick couldn't look at them. He couldn't speak. He couldn't even look at Fiona as she caused his fetters to drop away.

Then he bolted from them and ran.