22. HIDE-AND-SEEK

I knew what Archie had seen. He wasn't telling me of course, but I knew it.

"Okay." I muttered to myself, feeling like I was caught in a fever dream. My heart sank into the pit of my chest and I dropped onto the hotel mattress. A shiver trilled up my spine like there was a blade of ice pressed against it, but I yielded myself peacefully to the sensation, not even bothering to put up a fight.

"What did you see?" Jessamine repeated, latching onto Archie's arm. His wide, pulsing eyes and panicked face suddenly snapped back to its normal expression – it was a mask.

"It's nothing." He shook his head and I nodded once, pretending to actually believe him. I stood up again, but it felt like the floor wasn't solid beneath me and I walked towards the window with slow, heavy steps and played with the edges of the drawn curtains, trying to think of everything else but what I knew I had to do. Archie was still entirely focused on me, though.

"Is your mother all right?" he asked calmly, trying not to betray the sense of panic I'm sure was building up inside him at this new possibility, asking himself where exactly did we go wrong for him to see such a thing. I took a steady breath and closed my eyes, trying hard to remember the script I'd agreed to stick with for Mom's sake.

"Yeah, she's fine. A little worried of course, but fine. She wanted to come home early for me, but I managed to convince her to stay put in Florida for now." I moved my shoulders up then down very slowly, my eyes still trained on the dirty motel carpet below my feet whose thick matted bristles, spongy, made it feel as if I were Atlas sinking into quicksand, the weight of the world bearing down on my shoulders so it was impossible to break free from under it all.

Archie let out a relieved sigh. "That's good."

"Yeah," I shrugged and swallowed hard, my voice like a robot's.

Archie was still looking at me.

"I better start getting ready, since we'll be heading out soon." I motioned my thumb in the direction of the adjoining bedroom where I'd locked myself in earlier. He was probably too busy monitoring all our futures to hear what Joss nor I had said in there, which was actually a good thing. He couldn't know.

Arch nodded. "Would you like something to eat before that?"

"I'm good, thanks. I'll just grab a snack at the airport later on." I said in a low, flat voice, afraid he would hear it rising if it were at a volume any higher than what it was right now. My fists clenched then unclenched as I let out a hesitating breath, remembering how I had to act like everything was fine when it obviously wasn't; to keep it all in. To stay undecided. Though I couldn't see them, I could still feel Archie and Jessamine's eyes on my back as I shuffled down the hall and disappeared behind the door, hearing the latch click into place behind me. I decided to take a shower. The warm water wasn't working, but my skin was numb to the cold. Absentmindedly, I toweled myself down before getting dressed in clothes that actually fit me. When I got back to the bedroom, I just stood there for a minute, my eyes, glazed over with an invisible haze, looking at every lamp, every nightstand, every single piece of furniture and every article of decor in the room yet seeing nothing at all the entire time. I tried to think of things I was allowed to think of; things that wouldn't give me away, things that won't let Archie stop me. Locking my eyes on the nightstand by the bed, an idea struck me. Running over, I knelt down beside it and pulled open the top drawer. Underneath the complimentary copy of the Bible lay a stack of stationary and a black pen. Yanking out a piece of paper and a stray envelope, I took up the pen and, still crouched on my knees, I began to write.

"Edythe," I said her name out loud as I penned it down. My hand was shaking so bad that it was barely legible, but it was the last thing she'll get from me, the last chance I'll get to tell her how I feel - how I'll always feel - even after I'm gone.

I love you. So much.

Sorry – again. So sorry.

She has my mom, and I have to try. I know it may not work. I am so very, very sorry.

Don't be mad at Archie and Jessamine. If I get away from them it will be a miracle. Tell them "Thank you" for me. Archie especially.

And please, please don't come after Joss. That's what she wants. I couldn't stand it if anyone else had to get hurt because of me, especially you. Please, this is the only thing I can ask of you now. For me.

I'm not sorry that I met you. I'll never be sorry that I love you.

Forgive me,

Beau.

I folded the paper into thirds and sealed it in the envelope. Eventually, she would get it. I hoped she would understand. I hoped she would forgive. But most of all, I hoped she would listen. It was only through the guarantee of her safety that I could die in peace. I needed her to understand that.

I pulled my bag over my shoulder. By the time I walked back into the main room, Archie and Jessamine were ready.

We made our way to the car. Archie situated himself behind the wheel with Jessamine right beside him in the passenger seat, though she kept shooting glances back at me every now and again when she thought I wasn't looking, trying to make me calm. I appreciated that; it made my heart feel less likely to explode on me. Archie tried to focus on the road, but when I glimpsed his face in the rearview mirror, I saw that his eyebrows were drawn up in concern. He shifted his jaw, still keeping one eye on the road and the other on me. I tried to avoid his gaze, turning to look out the window instead and fidgeted with the envelope in my lap, my fingers playing with the sharp corners.

"Archie?" I finally turned to look at him again.

His voice was wary when it answered me. "Yes, Beau?"

I held the envelope out for him to take.

"A letter. It's for my mom. Can you make sure she gets it?" I lied. I couldn't tell Archie it was for Edythe, since I was supposed to be there with him and Jessamine when she came. I'm certain, though, that they'll figure it out after I'm gone.

"Of course, Beau." He nodded and took it from me, sliding it into his jacket pocket.

"Thanks." I whispered, feeling the quiver in my voice and not wanting Archie to hear.

We were quiet for the rest of the car ride. When we got to the airport, Archie parked us on the fourth floor of the concrete parking garage attached to it where the sun couldn't reach us. We never had to leave the shadows as we made our way to the terminal – terminal four, the biggest one, the most confusing. That was good, maybe it'll help. We took the elevator down to the main floor and waded through the crowds, passing by ATM machines, gift shops, and restaurants, me leading the way for once because I actually knew the place better than they did. We rounded the corner past baggage claim and finally entered in on the waiting area for terminal four. Our eyes scanned the rows of black-cushioned chairs with their sterling silver frames and we found three seats together with the digital screen that listed the incoming and departing flights front and center, clear in our view. Archie and Jessamine spent a good while looking at it, discussing the pros and cons of New York, Atlanta, Chicago. Places I'd never been. Places I'd never go, now.

But I had to plan my escape.

Whatever I did, I was going to have to time it right. If I waited till Edythe and Carine were close, Archie would have to wait for them, right? But I couldn't let it get too close. I was pretty sure Edythe wouldn't care about the human witnesses when she started tracking me. I tried to control my breathing; keep the inner turmoil of my thoughts from showing on my face because every inch I moved in my seat earned me two pairs of huge golden eyes, asking me what's wrong, what was on my mind, all that sort of stuff and I had to disarm them each time. I waited for my opportunity, impatient, unable to stop my toes from tapping. Should I run? Would they dare to try and stop me physically in this public place? Or would they simply follow me?

I stared at the arrival board, watching as flight after flight arrived on time. Edythe's flight from Seattle crept closer and closer to the top of the board. It was amazing how every cell in my body seemed to know she was coming; longed for her with every passing second. That made it very hard. I found myself trying to think of excuses to stay, to see her first and then make my escape. But I knew that was impossible if I was going to have any chance of getting away.

Several times Archie offered to get food with me. Later, I told him, not yet. The timing had to be just right.

And then, when I had only thirty minutes to make my escape, the numbers changed. Edythe's plane was ten minutes early. I had no more time.

"You know, I think I'm actually getting kind of hungry now." I quickly said, jumping to my feet much too eagerly and feeling the twitch of my muscles' desire to make a break for it and run. I had to. But I couldn't just yet or he'll know.

Archie stood up. "I'll come with you-" he offered but I cut him off.

"No." I nearly shouted the word. He tilted an eyebrow and I tried to cover myself. "It's just… do you mind if Jessamine comes with me instead? I'm feeling a little…" I didn't finish the sentence. My eyes were wild enough to convey the words I didn't say, I'm sure.

Archie was confused, but, to my relief, not suspicious yet. He must've been attributing the change in his vision to some maneuver on the tracker's part instead of a betrayal by me, giving me the benefit of the doubt in the wrong sense. And I hated it.

Jessamine walked with me, her hand on my back, guiding me. I pretended a lack of interest in the first few airport cafes, my eyes set on something entirely different.

It was right by the east entrance to the sprawling dining room area. Inspiration in desperation.

There's one place I knew Jessamine wouldn't follow me.

"Actually… do you mind?" I asked, pointing to the Men's room.

"Of course, Beau. I'll be waiting for you right here."

"Thanks." I was already backing away from her. "Give me just a minute, I'll be right back." My voice was barely above a whisper and I turned around, trying to control the speed of my steps as I made my way over to the bathroom and disappeared into it. See, I'd been here before. Gotten lost here once too, because the other exit went straight through, coming out in a totally different hallway. And that was perfect. I couldn't have planned it any better.

I turned into the handwashing area with the row of onyx black automatic sinks and all the motion-activated hand dryers which lined the far wall, trying to avoid all the guys around me. Running through to the other side, my eyes locked on the little "Exit" sign pulsing in bright green letters and I gravitated towards it before finally making it out into the hall, breaking into a sprinting run from there and making a beeline straight for the elevators like I was a burglar getting pursued on foot by the cops, flailing myself around as I pushed through the throngs of people, hunkering down low to disguise my height. I didn't look back, but I knew that if Jessamine stayed where she said she would, I'd never be in her line of sight. Of course, because I'd finally made the decision; given it solid shape and form the instant I took off running, it wouldn't be long until she and Archie figured it out. At least this way though, I could buy myself an inch of time – that was all I needed to get away; all I needed to save the ones I love. When I finally reemerged outside where the sun shone bright and unbearably hot on my already-red face I puffed along, making a visor with my hand and frantically moving down the stretch of concrete in search of a cab; any cab.

There were none.

"No, no, no…" I muttered in quick bursts and I could feel my heart spiking in fear, imagining Archie and Jessamine hot on my trail. That's when I saw a white shuttle bus parked in the lane in front of the airport and I thought, this will have to do.

I was sprinting again, my feet pounding on the pavement. The double-doors were closed and I slammed my fists against the glass. They swung open a moment later.

"I'm on break, kid!" The driver – a small, stout man, middle-aged, whose brown hair was thinning- said between bites of his BLT.

"You don't understand, sir! I've got to get out of here now." I pleaded.

"Five minutes kid, just give me five minutes." He held up his other hand, the one not holding his sandwich.

"I don't – I don't have five minutes." I kept throwing glances behind me. My breath was getting shaky and my throat felt tight, like a lump was forming in it. My perfect plan was self-destructing before my very eyes and there was nothing I could do about it.

A honk sounded from behind the bus. I turned to look – it was a single, yellow cab. And then I was so happy I thought I could cry.

"Need a lift, kid?"

I ran over and dove into the backseat, slamming the door shut before holding the address out in front of her.

"I need to get there as soon as possible, ma'am. Please." The woman looked at me, her sticky red lipstick glinting in the sun off her pout. Her face scrunched up and she looked disappointed now that she offered me a ride.

"That's in Scottsdale." she complained.

I threw four twenties over the seat.

"Will that be enough?"

"Sure, kid. No problem."

And then we were off.

Against all odds, I'd escaped. I was able now to do everything I could for my mom, for the Cullens. For Edythe. My path was set. I just had to follow it. Maybe now, they'll live. I made peace with my choice. No remorse. No regret. No going back. This was the End, and I was running towards it with open arms. To know you did everything you could for the ones you loved… that was the peace I wished to die in. At least now I'll have that much, and I was grateful for it. So, instead of panicking, I closed my eyes and spent the twenty-minute drive with Edythe.

I imagined that I had stayed at the airport to meet her. I'd run to her, wrap my arms round her entire body and just kiss and kiss her like nobody was watching. We'd never let go of each other the whole time. I wondered where we would have gone. North somewhere, so she could be outside in the day. Or maybe somewhere very remote, so we could lie in the sun together again. I imagined her by the shore, her skin sparkling like the sea. It wouldn't matter how long we had to hide. To be stuck in a hotel room with her would be Heaven. So many things I still wanted to know about her. I could listen to her talk forever, never sleeping, never leaving her side.

I could see her face so clearly now... could almost hear her voice. A magical sound. She was magical. And, despite everything, for one split-second I was actually happy.

I was so involved in my escapist daydream that I'd lost all track of the racing seconds.

"Hey, what was the number again, kid?" the cabbie's voice punctured my fantasy, like a needle through fine cloth. The fear I'd kept at bay took control again.

"fifty-eight twenty-one."

"Here we are, then."

"Thank you." I whispered, and then my mind flashed back to Mom and what Joss could be doing to her right now. It struck me with a paralyzing sense of fear that coiled round me like a snake.

I had to hurry. My mom was waiting for me, frightened, depending on me.

I ran to the door, reaching up automatically to grab the key under the eave and let myself in. It was dark, empty, normal. I ran to the phone, turning the kitchen light on as I made my way over. There on the whiteboard mounted on my fridge was a ten-digit number written in a small, neat hand. My fingers stumbled over the keypad, making mistakes. I had to hang up and try again and finally managed to do it right this time. I held the phone to my ear with a shaking hand, waiting. It rang only once.

"Hello, Beau," the easy voice answered. "That was very quick. I'm certainly impressed."

"Is my mom all right?"

"She's perfectly fine. Don't worry, Beau, I've no quarrel with her. Unless you didn't come alone, of course." She added, her tone light; amused.

"I'm alone." I'd never been more alone in my entire life.

"Very good, Beau. Now I've got just the place in mind for our little rendezvous. Surely, you're familiar with the ballet studio just around the corner from your house, no? Because I see here," she paused like something caught her eye and I heard her tapping some surface on the other line, "you were quite the little danseur, weren't you Beau? You were in the Summer Program nearly eight years ago, and you haven't changed one bit. These silly class portraits are such keepsakes, are they not? The manager certainly seems to think so, there's an entire wall of them, goes back some fifteen years – that is all but the blink of an eye for someone like me though, of course." She chuckled; bright, menacing. "You humans so amuse me with your sentimentality sometimes. I assume then, that you know your way here, correct?"

"Yes. I know how to get there." I said through my teeth.

"Well. It's a date, then. I'll be seeing you very soon, Beau." Then the line went dead. All I felt was numb as I replaced the phone on its cradle and taking three slow, faltering steps backwards, I ducked and ran from the room, through the door, out into the baking Arizona heatwave. I'm halfway across the yard. I'm out past my driveway. I'm on the sidewalk; the path to my fated end. It was all I could do now, my one chance to keep everyone safe. There was no time to look back at my house, and I didn't want to see it as it was now, either — empty, a symbol of terror instead of sanctuary. The last person to walk through those familiar rooms was my enemy. From the corner of my eye, I could almost see my mother standing in the shade of the big eucalyptus tree where I'd played as a kid. Or kneeling by the little plot of dirt around the mailbox, the cemetery of all the flowers she'd tried to grow. The memories were better than any reality I would see today. But I raced away from them, towards the corner, leaving everything behind me. And then my feet are pounding, pounding, pounding against the sidewalk, sweat pouring down my face. I'm gasping. The sun is hot on my skin, too bright as it bounces off the white concrete and blinds me. I trip over my feet several times, once falling, but catching myself with my hands and scraping them up on the sidewalk. They bled. But I didn't have time to care. Just one more street now. Finally, I turn the last corner at the end of the block.

And then I'm there.

The familiar building now looms over me; dark, menacing. As I get closer, I could see the sign taped to the inside of the door. Handwritten on the bright pink paper was "Closed for Spring Break". I touched the skinny handle, tugged on it cautiously. It was unlocked. I wasn't surprised. I fought to catch my breath, willing myself to take courage, and swallowed hard before opening it.

The lobby was dark and empty. Cool, with the air conditioner on full-blast still thrumming. Blue plastic chairs were stacked along the walls and the red-carpeted lobby floor felt unsteady below my feet. The west dance floor was dark, I could see through the open viewing window. The east dance floor, the bigger one, the one from Archie's vision, was lit. But the blinds were drawn over the indoor window.

Terror stopped me in my tracks. My body tensed and then goosebumps prickled up my spine like orbs of ice. I was frozen to the spot; I couldn't make my feet move forward.

And then Mom's voice called for me.

"Beau? Beau?" That same tone of hysterical panic. Forgetting my fear for one second, I sprinted to the door; to the sound of her voice.

"Beau, you scared me! Don't you ever do that to me again!" Her voice continued as I ran into the long, high-ceilinged room.

I looked out all around me, trying to find where her voice was coming from. I heard her laugh, and I spun towards the sound.

There she was, on the TV screen, mussing my hair up in relief. It was Thanksgiving, and I was twelve. We'd gone to see my grandmother in California, the last year before she died. We went to the beach one day, and I'd leaned too far over the edge of the pier. She'd seen my feet flailing, trying to reclaim my balance then pulled me back to her. "Beau? Beau?" she cried out in panic again when the tape rewound itself.

And then the screen crackled to blue.

I turned slowly. The tracker was standing very still by the back exit, so still I hadn't noticed her at first. In her hand was a remote control. We stared at each other for a long moment, and then she smiled.

"I'm so glad you could make it, Beau. Did you like the little movie I picked out for us?" She asked, stepping out from the shadows. "Now, isn't it better that your mother didn't have to get involved in all this?" She motioned round the room then between me and her with a flutter of her fingers, shrugging a little.

And then it hit me.

"She's not even here." My voice broke with relief when I realized it and I sank to my knees which gave out from under me. I could feel the hotness of grateful tears stinging my eyes, not even caring that someone was watching.

"You don't sound very upset that I tricked you."

"Believe me, I'm not." I answered, shaking my head. And then I laughed.

She was safe. Thank God my mother was safe. The rest of them will be too, after all this is over.

"How odd. You really do mean it." The hunter's voice lilted up with interest. "You almost make me sorry that what I'm about to do to you could please you so much."

In an invisible movement she was over to me and her icy fingers took my chin, yanking my face to hers. The sharp points of her nails bit into my skin, leaving tiny crescents of red on it. The back of her other hand stroked down the curve of my cheek, her eyes sliding shut as she inhaled deeply – whetting her appetite with my scent. The corners of her mouth pulled up into a fearsome smile, the glint of her sharp white teeth peeking out from between her parted lips. Her small hands hovered over my neck and caressed either side of it like she was making a brace for it after I'd taken a tumble. Like it was precious to her.

"I suppose you're going to tell your little friends to avenge you?" she asked, her voice trilling with a shiver of hope.

"I asked them not to."

"Oh, really? And what did your lover think about that?"

Edythe. I felt that tightening in my chest again.

"I don't know." It was weird how easy it was to talk to her. "I left her a letter."

"How romantic, a last letter to your lover. And do you think she will honor it?"

"I hope so."

"Well, then our hopes seem to differ, I'm afraid. In fact, I'm almost disappointed, really. You see, I was expecting a much greater challenge. And, after all, I only needed a little bit of luck. Would you mind then, Beau, if I left a little letter of my own for her?" Joss reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small digital camcorder. She adjusted the flip-out screen and looked through the viewfinder at me, showing me a chilling smile from behind it. "I'll have to make this really offensive now, won't I?" She put the camcorder down on a stray plastic chair, pressing a button. I lunged for it, but Joss threw me down before the tips of my fingers could even brush the metal body and I fell backwards, my head bouncing against the cold hard floor. I let out a hiss between my teeth.

"Not so fast, Beau." She wiped at the lens with her sleeve then her red, bloodthirsty eyes found mine again. She laughed. "I'm sorry, but I just don't think she'll be able to resist hunting me after she watches this. And I wouldn't want her to miss one second of your next act. It's all for her, of course. You are only human after all, Beau. So, I'm hoping you're wrong about that girl - Edythe, wasn't it?" Her breezy laugh echoed in the room, coming back to me in waves of horror. She looked at me again, arms crossed casually over her chest. "I'm going to tell you a story, Beau. Did you know that, many years ago, my prey had actually escaped me? Shocking, I know! It only happened the one time, so you can imagine how it's haunted me since." Her voice sounded far away. She looked to me again, exhaling. Showing me a cold smile, she folded one arm over her torso and propped her other arm up with it, resting her fingers on her cheek before beginning the tale. "Once upon a time, there was a delicious human boy – he smelled even better than you do, no offense – but only one old vampire protected him. One." She held up a finger. "It should have been a very easy meal. Too easy, really. But I underestimated the boy's protector. When she knew that I was after her little friend, she took him from the asylum where she worked – I mean, can you imagine the degradation? Actually working a human job for your food?" She shook her head in disbelief. "But, as I was saying, she took that boy from the asylum and freed him. She made him safe. She made him like us. He was certainly important enough to her of course, but then, he was special. Some two hundred years earlier and he would have been burned at the stake for his visions. In the nineteen-twenties it was the asylum and the shock treatments. Poor boy – he didn't even seem to notice the pain of his transformation. And when he opened his eyes, it was like he'd never seen the sun before." Her hand traced invisible images in the cold air. "The old vampire made him a strong new vampire and there was no longer a reason for me to touch him then, no blood to enjoy." She sighed. "Of course, I didn't leave empty-handed: I simply destroyed the old one in vengeance." She shrugged. "But I still so regret that I never got a taste..." her voice rasped. She took an invisibly-fast stride towards me and then her fingers were at my throat, curling against it.

"Archie." I breathed, feeling my knees buckle as the revelation hit me.

"Yes, that lovely little friend of yours. I was so surprised to see him there, in the clearing." She shook her head and stroked my face again, laughing. "It's a perfect ending to the story, really: I get you, but they get him – a settling of scores, if you will; an eye for an eye. It's all so very poetic, don't you think? My one lost quarry – quite an honor, actually. And now," she leaned her face in closer to mine, stretching up on her toes so that her nose could skim up the side of my throat. "But we'll have some fun yet." She whispered, her ice-cold breath stinging my skin.

The hunter stepped back and began to circle me casually, like she was trying to get a better view of a statue in a museum. Her face was still friendly as she decided where to start. And then her smile got wider and wider and wider till her mouth was just a gash full of teeth. She slumped forward into a crouch.

"This might hurt just a bit." The terrifying words were a pleasant whisper.

And then, a blur. A pounding. A charge.

I didn't see what part of her hit me - it was too fast. There was a loud snap, and my right arm was suddenly hanging like it wasn't connected to my elbow anymore. The very last thing was the pain - it lanced up my arm a long second later. The hunter was watching again now, but her face hadn't gone back to normal, it was still mostly teeth. She waited for the pain to hit me, watched as I gasped and curled in around my broken arm.

Before I could even feel all of the first pain, while it was still building, she blurred again, and with more snapping pops, something knocked me back against the wall - the bar buckled behind my back and the mirrors splintered, shards of glass lodging themselves into the back of my head.

Every single place my body made contact with the wall throbbed as I crumpled into the floor, sprawled out on it like a rag doll. A strange, animal-like whine escaped between my teeth. I tried to suck in another breath, and it was like a dozen knives were stabbing my lungs. Grabbing the remnants of the wooden bar with a quivering hand, I fought against the searing pain and pulled myself to my feet, turning to face the hunter head on.

"That's a nice effect, don't you think?" She asked, her face friendly again. She touched one of the spiderweb lines running away from where I'd hit the wall, tracing it all the way back to me until the camcorder was right in my face. "As soon as I saw this place, I knew it was the perfect set for my little film. Very visually dynamic. And so many angles! I wouldn't want Edythe to miss one little thing."

I lunged for the camcorder again. She caught my wrist in midair with a bone-crushing grip, then I heard it snap as she pinned my arm behind my back and slid the camcorder across the remnant of the wooden bar just outside of my reach, her other hand dashing round to the front of my neck, her ice-cold fingers curling over it. I couldn't breathe. All that came out was the choked, sputtering rag-ends of a half-breath as the pain from my broken wrist shot up my arm before meeting the sharper pain of my broken ribs from when she charged me a moment earlier.

"Let's not get too hasty, Beau. Masterpieces take time, you understand, and we've only just begun." She admonished, yanking me back by the neck and, with perfect precision and control, slammed my head just hard enough into the mirror wall, her hand letting go just before my skull made contact with it, shattering the section – agonizing, but not lethal. She could have easily killed me right then and there I knew, but she didn't. Somewhere in the back of my mind, through all the pain, I remembered Edythe's words about Joss's twisted nature and what hunting me meant for her – a cat-and-mouse game, and I was the mouse.

The realization hit when the shards did. Broken glass smattered from every direction, piercing my skin. Slice after slice after slice. Streaks of blood ran down my face from the biggest gash on the side of my forehead just on the edge of my hairline and seeped into the other littler surface cuts, making it burn like acid rain. A high-pitched ringing sound echoed in my head, assaulting my senses. I could taste my own blood - metallic, salty, rusted - as it seeped into the broken skin of my lips. I braced myself against the shattered mirror wall, my tormentor stepping back as I coughed and sputtered, red dripping from my mouth.

"Still on his feet," she said, then laughed.

The next crack was much louder - like a muffled detonation. I was yanked back again and the room seemed to fly up past me, like I was dropping through a hole. The agony hit the same time I hit the floor.

I choked on the scream that was trying to rip out of my throat, fighting through the bile that flooded my esophagus. There wasn't enough air, I couldn't fill my lungs. I couldn't tell what she'd broken on me at first, but I got my answer soon enough.

"Now we're getting somewhere." She jeered, clapping her hands loudly. I heard the crack before I felt the shooting pain as she sunk her foot hard into my calf. Earlier, it had been my femur. Now, it was my tibia. Another animal-like whine escaped from my lips. I tried to stand up on my one good leg, rolls of excruciation assaulting me from every which way over and over again; knocking me around as I flailed clumsily to my feet, a dying fish out of water. It made the hunter laugh. In one long stride she was beside me and yanking me back by the shoulders, she threw me hard into the ground with a movement that felt like it rebroke every bone in my body and held me down with her foot. Like I fell into a pit and was impaled by a hundred spikes all at once. I screamed. Then she was down on her knees by my head, a red light flashing in her hand.

"Time for your close-up, Beau." She whispered right into my ear, running her ice hand down the center of my back; the blood-soaked fabric of the remnants of my jacket like she was stroking me. "Just tell Edythe how much this all hurts," crooned the hunter. "Tell her that you want vengeance - you deserve it. She brought you into this. In a very real sense, she's the one who's hurting you here, not I. Try to sell it."

"No Edythe, don't!" I pleaded with a howl of pain. It was killing me to breathe, needles double-dipped in boiling water puncturing the insides of my lungs. My bloody hands clenched into fists as I fought against the strangled sound forming in the back of my throat as another wave of pain shot through my body from all directions.

"It doesn't want to scream," she said in a funny little singsong voice. "Should we make it scream?"

I waited for the next snap, my body quivering in horrified anticipation.

Instead, she gently lifted my good arm – good only in the sense it was one of the only parts of my body that hadn't been broken yet, though the red seeping from the gash on the top of my wrist streaked down my arm in a sinuous, crimson path – and then I felt the cool shiver of her breath on my skin as she moved her face up the inside of my arm and stopped where the trail of blood did, mouth wide open.

The next pain was hardly even pain compared to the rest. It didn't even go that deep. But I felt it. And I knew what she'd done.

Yes. Her teeth had broken the skin on the inside of my wrist.

I barely reacted, but she jumped up and spun away. My head thumped hard against the ground, and my broken ribs screamed. I watched her, strangely detached as she paced the far end of the room, snarling and shaking her head back and forth. She'd left the camcorder by my head, still running.

Then the heat exploded.

My wrist was so hot. I was surprised I could feel that over the bigger agonies. But I remembered Carine's story. And I knew that I didn't have much time.

She was still trying to calm herself – the blood, that was the problem. She'd gotten some of my blood in her mouth but she didn't want to kill me yet, so she had to fight off the frenzy. Like sharks, Archie had said.

The heat was building fast. I tried to ignore it, to ignore the stabbing in my chest. Joss was still distracted. My eyes locked on the camcorder and with the last burst of strength before the fire really scorched me, my hand shot out and I had it in my hand. I raised it up as high as I could and smashed it back towards the ground.

And then I was flying backwards, into the already-broken mirrors. Patches of hard, concrete wall peeking out between jagged silver shards. Round Two of my torture. The last of the glass pieces came loose and punctured my shoulders; my scalp. Skin and bone broken then rebroken all over again.

But that wasn't why I screamed.

Fire ignited in my bitten wrist. Flames exploded across my palm; up my arm. The other agonies were nothing. Broken bones weren't pain. Not like this.

The screaming sounded like it was coming from someplace outside my body – it was an unbroken yowling that was like an animal again.

My eyes were fixed, staring, and I saw the red light flashing in the tracker's hand. She'd been too fast, and I'd failed.

Blood was running down my arm, pooling under my elbow. The tracker's nostrils were flared, her eyes wild, her teeth bared. It dripped onto the floor and squelched under me, but I couldn't hear it over the screaming. Here was my last shred of hope. She wouldn't be able to stop herself now. She would have to kill me. Finally.

Her mouth opened wide.

I waited, screaming.