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make it harder to get her out!

This time there was a pause before Stefan’s answer came. She knew though, by

faint echoes, that he was talking telepathically with someone else. All right, love, I’ll

do it. I’ll take care of the thurg, too. You follow Bonnie.

He was lying. Or, not lying, but keeping something from her. The person he’d

been sending thoughts to was Damon. They were humoring her. They didn’t mean

to help at all.

Just at that moment she heard a shrill scream—not so far away. It was Bonnie in

trouble—no! Bonnie had found land!

Elena didn’t lose another second. She dumped her backpack on the ice and

skated straight back to the thurg.

There it was, so huge, so pathetic, so helpless. The very thing that had kept it

safe from other Godawful Hellacious monsters in the Dark Dimension—its great

bulk—was now turned against it. Elena felt her chest tighten as if she were wearing

a corset.

Even as she watched, though, the animal became calmer. She stopped trying to

get her left hind leg out of the ice, which meant that she stopped churning up the ice

around it.

Now Biratz was in a sort of crouching position, trying to keep her three dry legs

from going under. The problem was that she was trying too hard, and that there

was nothing to push against except breakable ice.

“Elena!” Stefan was within earshot now. “Don’t get any closer!”

But even as he said it, Elena saw a Sign. Just a few feet away, lying on the ice

was the tickle-prod that Pelat had used to get the thurgs going.

She picked it up as she skated by and then she saw another Sign. Reddish hay

and the original covering for the hay—a giant tarpaulin—were lying behind the

thurg. Together they formed a broad wide path that was neither wet nor slick.

“Elena!”

“This is going to be easy, Stefan!”

Elena pulled a pair of dry socks out of her pocket and drew them up over her

boots. She fastened the tickle stick to her belt. And then she started the run of her

life.

Her boots were fur with something like felt underneath and with the socks to aid

them, they caught on the tarpaulin and propelled her forward. She leaned into it,

vaguely wishing Meredith were here, so she could do this instead, but all the time

getting closer. And then she saw her mark: the end of the tarp and beyond it

floating chunks of ice.

But the thurg looked climbable. Very low in back, like a dinosaur halfway into a tar

pit, but then rising up along the curved backbone. If she could just somehow land

there…

Two steps till jump-off. One step till jump-off.

JUMP!

Elena pushed off with her right foot, flew through the air for an endless time, and

—hit the water.

Instantly, she was soaked from head to foot and the shock of the icy water was

unbelievable. It caught hold of her like some monster with a handful of jagged ice

shards. It blinded her with her own hair, it squeezed all the sound out of the

universe.

Somehow, clawing at her face, she freed her mouth and eyes from hair. She

realized that she was only slightly below the surface of the water, and that was all

she needed to push upward until her mouth broke the surface and she could suck

in a lungful of delicious air, after which she had a coughing fit.

First time up, she thought, remembering the old superstition that a drowning

person will rise three times and then sink forever.

But the strange thing was that she wasn’t sinking. There was a dull pain in her

thigh but she wasn’t going under.

Slowly, slowly, she realized what had happened. She had missed the back of the

thurg, but landed on its thick reptilian tail. One of the serrated fins had gashed her,

but she was stable.

So…now…all I have to do is climb the thurg, she puzzled out slowly. Everything

seemed slow because there were icebergs bobbing around her shoulders.

She put up a fur-lined gloved hand and reached for the next fin up. The water,

while making her soaking clothes heavier, supported some of her weight. She

managed to pull herself up to the next fin. And the next. And then here was the

rump, and she had to be careful—no more footholds. Instead she grabbed for

handholds and found something with her left hand. A broken strap from the hay

carrier.

Not a good idea—in retrospect.

For a few minutes that qualified as among the worst in her life she was showered

with hay, pounded with rocks, and smothered in the dust of old dung.

When it was finally over she looked around, sneezing and coughing, to find that

she was still on the thurg. The tickle stick had been broken but enough remained for

her to use. Stefan was frantically asking, both aloud and by telepathy, if she was all

right. Bonnie was skating back and forth like a Tinker Bell guide, and Damon was

cursing at Bonnie to get back to land and stay there.

Meanwhile Elena was inching up the rump of the thurg. She made it through the

crushed supply basket. She finally reached the thurg’s summit, and she settled just

behind the domed head, in the seat where a driver would sit.

And then she tickled the thurg behind the ears.

“Elena!” Stefan shouted, and then Elena, what are you trying to do?

“I don’t know!” she shouted back. “Trying to save the thurg!”

“You can’t,” Damon interrupted Stefan’s answer in a voice as cold and still as the

place they were in.

“She can make it!” Elena said fiercely—precisely because she herself was

having doubts about whether the animal could. “You could help by pulling on her

bridle.”

“There’s no point,” Damon shouted, and turned about-face, walking quickly into

the mist.

“I’ll give it a try. Throw it out in front of her,” Stefan said.

Elena threw the knotted bridle as hard as she could. Stefan had to run almost to

the edge of the ice to grab it before it fell in. Then he held it aloft triumphantly. “Got

it!”

“Okay, pull! Give her a direction to start in.”

“Will do!”

Elena tapped Biratz again behind her right ear. There was a faint rumble from the

animal and then nothing. Elena could see Stefan straining at the bridle.

“Come on,” Elena said, and slapped sharply with the stick.

The thurg lifted up a giant foot, placed it farther on the ice, and struggled. As

soon as she did, Elena smacked hard behind the left ear.

This was the crucial moment. If Elena could keep Biratz from crushing all the ice

between her back legs, they might have a chance.

The thurg tentatively lifted her left hind leg and stretched it until it made contact

with the ice.

“Good, Biratz! Now! ” Elena shouted. Now if Biratz would only surge forward…

There was a great upheaval underneath her. For several minutes Elena thought

that perhaps Biratz had broken through the ice with all four legs. Then the thrashing

changed to a rocking motion and suddenly, dizzyingly Elena knew that they had

won.

“Easy, now, easy,” she called to the animal, giving her a gentle tickle with the

stick. And slowly, ponderously, Biratz moved forward. Her domed head drooped

farther and farther as she went, and she foundered at the edge of a bank of mist,

breaking the ice again. But there she only sank a few inches before meeting mud.

A few more steps and they were on solid ground. Elena had to suck in her breath

to stifle a scream as the thurg’s domelike head slumped, giving her a short and

scary ride to where the tusks re-curved on themselves. Somehow she slid right

between them and had to hastily scramble off Biratz’s trunks.

“It was pointless, you know, doing that,” Damon said from somewhere in the mist

beside her. “Risking your own life.”

“What d-do you mean p-pointless?” Elena demanded. She wasn’t frightened; she

was freezing.

“The animals are going to die anyway. The next trial is one they can’t manage

and even if they could, this isn’t a place where anything grows. Instead of a quick

clean death in the water, they’re going to starve, slowly.”

Elena didn’t answer; the only answer she could think of was, “Why didn’t you tell

me earlier?” She had stopped shivering, which was a good thing, because a

moment ago her body had felt as if she might shake herself apart.

Clothes, she thought vaguely. That was the problem. It certainly couldn’t be as

cold here in the air as it had been in that water. It was her clothes that were making

her so cold.

She began, with numb fingers, to take them off. First, she unfastened her leather

jacket. No zippers here: buttons. That was a real problem. Her fingers felt like

frozen hot dogs, and only nominally under her direction. But somehow or other she

managed to undo the fastenings and the leather dropped to the ground with a

muffled thump—it had taken a layer of her inner fur off with it. Ick. The smell of wet

fur. Now, now she had to—

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t do anything because someone was holding her

arms. Burning her arms. Those hands were annoying, but at least she knew who

they belonged to. They were firm and very gentle but very strong. All that added up

to Stefan.

Slowly, she raised her dripping head to ask Stefan to stop burning her arms.

But she couldn’t. Because on Stefan’s body there was Damon’s head. Now that

was funny. She’d seen a lot of things that vampires could do, but not this swapping

heads business.

“Stefan-Damon—please stop,” she gasped between hysterical whoops of

laughter. “It hurts. It’s too hot!”

“Hot? You’re frozen, you mean.” The deft, searing hands were rubbing up and

down her arms, pushing back her head to rub her cheeks. She let it happen,

because it seemed to be only sense that if it was Damon’s head, they were

Stefan’s hands. “You’re cold but you’re not shivering?” a grim Damon-voice said

from somewhere.

“Yes, so you see I must be warming up.” Elena didn’t feel very warmed up. She

realized that she still had on a longer fur garment, one that reached to her knees

under her leather breeches. She fumbled with her belt.

“You’re not warming up. You’re going into the next stage of hypothermia. And if

you don’t get dry and warm right now, you’re going to die.” Not roughly, he tilted her

chin up to look into her eyes. “You’re delirious now—can you understand me,

Elena? We need to really get you warm.”

Warm was a concept as vague and faraway as life before she had met Stefan.

But delirious she understood. That was not a good thing. What to do about it except

laugh?

“All right. Elena, just wait for a moment. Let me find—” In a moment he was back.

Not quick enough to stop her from unwrapping the fur down to her waist, but back

before she could get her camisole off.

“Here.” He stripped off the damp fur and wrapped a warm, dry one around her,

over her camisole.

After a moment or two she began to shiver.

“That’s my girl,” Damon’s voice said. It went on: “Don’t fight me, Elena. I’m trying

to save your life. That’s all. I’m not going to try to do anything else. I give you my

word.”

Elena was bewildered. Why should she think that Damon—this must be Damon,

she decided—would want to hurt her?

Although he could be a bastard sometimes…

And he was taking off her clothes.

No. That shouldn’t be happening. Definitely not. Especially since Stefan must be

somewhere around.

But by now Elena was shivering too hard to talk.

And now that she was in her underwear, he was making her lie down on furs,

tucking other furs around her. Elena didn’t understand anything that was happening,

but it was all starting not to matter. She was floating somewhere outside herself,

watching without much interest.

Then another body was slipping in under the furs. She snapped back from the

place she had been floating. Very briefly she got a look at a bare chest. And then a

warm, compact body slid into the makeshift sleeping bag with her. Warm, hard

arms went around her, keeping her in contact all over her body.

Through the mist she vaguely heard Stefan’s voice.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“S trip to your underwear and get in on the other side,” Damon said. His voice was

neither angry nor fatuous. He added shortly, “Elena is dying.”

The last three words seemed to affect Stefan particularly, although Elena

couldn’t parse them. Stefan wasn’t moving, just breathing hard, his eyes wide.

“Bonnie and I have been gathering hay and fuel and we’re all right.”

“You’ve been exercising—moving about—wearing clothes that kept you warm.

She’s been dunked in ice water and sitting still—high up in the wind. I got the other

thurg to break off wood from the dead trees around here and try it on the fire. Now

get the hell in, Stefan, and give her some body warmth, or I’m going to make her a

vampire.”

“Nnn,” Elena tried to say, but Stefan didn’t seem to understand.

Damon, however, said, “Don’t worry. He’s going to warm you up from the other

side. You won’t have to become a vampire just yet. For God’s sake,” he added

suddenly, explosively, “some prince you picked!”

Stefan’s voice was quiet and tense. “You tried putting her in a thermal

envelope?”

“Of course I tried, you idiot! No magic works beyond the Mirror except

telepathy.”

Elena had no sense of time going by, but suddenly there was a familiar body

pressed against hers from the other side.

And somewhere directly in her mind: Elena? Elena? You’re all right, aren’t you,

Elena? I don’t care whether you’re playing a joke on me. But you’re really all right,

aren’t you? Just tell me that, love.

Elena wasn’t able to answer at all.

Dimly, fragments of sound came to her ears: “Bonnie…on top of her and…pack

ourselves back on either side.”

And dull feelings stirred her sense of touch: a small body, almost weightless, like

a thick blanket, pressing down on her. Someone sobbing, tears dripping on her

neck from above. And warmth on either side.

I’m asleep with the other kittens, she thought, dozing. Maybe we’ll have a nice

dream.

“I wish we could know how they’re doing,” Meredith said, on a pause from one of

her pacing bouts.

“I wish they knew how we’re doing,” Matt said wearily as he taped another note

card amulet onto a window. And another.

“Do you know, my dears, I kept hearing a child crying last night in my dreams,”

Mrs. Flowers said slowly.

Meredith turned, startled. “So did I! Right out on the front porch, it sounded like.

But I was too tired to get up.”

“It might mean something—or nothing at all.” Mrs. Flowers frowned. She was

boiling tap water for tea. The electricity was sporadic. Matt and Saber had driven

back to the boardinghouse earlier that day so that Matt could gather Mrs. Flowers’s

most important instruments—her herbs for teas, compresses, and poultices. He

hadn’t had the heart to tell her about the state of the boardinghouse, or what those

maggot malach had done to it. He’d had to find a loose board from the garage to

get from the hall to the kitchen. There was no third floor anymore and very little

second.

At least he hadn’t run into Shinichi.

“What I’m saying is that maybe there’s some real kid out there,” Meredith said.

“At night alone? Sounds like a Shinichi zombie,” Matt said.

“Maybe. But maybe not. Mrs. Flowers, do you have any idea of when you hear

the crying? Early in the night or late?”

“Let me think, dear. It seems to me that I hear it whenever I wake up—and old

people wake up quite frequently.”

“I usually hear it toward the morning—but I usually sleep without dreaming for the

first few hours and wake up early.”

Mrs. Flowers turned to Matt. “What about you, Matt, dear? Do you ever hear a

sound like crying?”

Matt, who deliberately overworked himself these days to try to get a solid six

hours of sleep at night, said, “I’ve heard the wind kind of moaning and sobbing

around midnight, I guess.”

“It sounds as if we have an all-night ghost, my dears,” Mrs. Flowers said calmly

and poured them each a mug of tea.

Matt saw Meredith glance at him uneasily—but Meredith didn’t know Mrs.

Flowers as well as he did.

“You don’t really think it’s a ghost,” he said now.

“No, I don’t. Ma ma hasn’t said a word about it, and then it’s your house, Matt,

dear. No gruesome murders or hideous secrets in its past, I should think. Let me

see…” She shut her eyes and let Matt and Meredith go on with their tea. Then she

opened her eyes and gave them a puzzled smile.

“Ma ma says ‘search the house for your ghost. Then listen well to what it has to

say.’”

“Okay,” Matt said poker-faced. “Since it’s my house, I guess I’d better search for

it. But when? Should I set an alarm?”

“I think the best way would be to arrange a watch rota,” Mrs. Flowers said.

“Okay,” Meredith agreed promptly. “I’ll take the middle watch, from midnight to

four; Matt can have the first one; and Mrs. Flowers, you can have the earlymorning

one, and get a nap in the afternoon if you want.”

Matt felt uneasy. “Why don’t we just break it up into two watches and the two of

you can share one? I’ll take the other.”

“Because, dear Matt,” Meredith said, “we don’t want to be treated like ‘ladies.’

And don’t argue”—she hefted the fighting stave—“because I’m the one with the

heavy equipment.”

Something was shaking the room. Shaking Matt with it. Still half-asleep, he put his

hand under his pillow and pulled out the revolver. A hand grabbed it and he heard a

voice.

“Matt! It’s me, Meredith! Wake up, will you?”

Groggily, Matt reached for the lamp switch. Again, strong, slim cold fingers

prevented him from doing what he wanted.

“No light,” Meredith whispered. “It’s very faint, but if you come with me quietly,

you can hear it. The crying.”

That woke Matt up the rest of the way. “Right now?”

“Right now.”

Doing his best to walk quietly through the dark halls, Matt followed Meredith to the

downstairs living room.

“Sh!” Meredith warned. “Listen.”

Matt listened. He could hear some sobbing all right, and maybe some words, but

they didn’t sound all that ghostly to him. He put his ear to the wall and listened. The

crying was louder.

“Do we have a flashlight?” Matt asked.

“I have two, my dears. But this is a very dangerous time of night.” Mrs. Flowers

was a shadow against darkness.

“Please give the flashlights to us,” said Matt. “I don’t think our ghost is very

supernatural. What time is it, anyway?”

“About twelve forty A.M.,” Meredith answered. “But why do you think it isn’t

supernatural?”

“Because I think it’s living in our basement,” Matt said. “I think it’s Cole Reece.

The kid who ate his guinea pig.”

Ten minutes later, with the stave, two flashlights, and Saber, they had caught their

ghost.

“I didn’t mean anything bad,” Cole sobbed, when they had lured him upstairs with

promises of candy and “magic” tea that would let him sleep.

“I didn’t hurt anything, honest,” he choked, wolfing down Hershey bar after

Hershey bar from their emergency rations. “I’m scared that he’s onto me. Because

after you hit me with that sticky note, I haven’t been able to hear him in my head

anymore. And then you came here”—he gestured around Matt’s house—“and you

had amulets and I figured it would be better to stay inside them. Or it could be my

Last Midnight too.”

He was babbling. But something about the last words made Matt say, “What do

you mean…‘your Last Midnight too’?”

Cole looked at him in terror. The rim of melted Hershey bar around his lips made

Matt remember the last time he’d seen the boy.

“You know, don’t you?” Cole faltered. “About the midnights? The countdown?

Twelve days till the Last Midnight? Eleven days till the Last Midnight? And now…

tonight is one day till the Last Midnight…” He began to sob again, even while

cramming chocolate into his mouth. It was clear that he was starving.

“But what happens on the Last Midnight?” Meredith asked.

“You know, don’t you? That that’s the time when… you know.” Maddeningly Cole

seemed to think they were testing him.

Matt put his hands on Cole’s shoulders, and to his horror felt bones under his

fingers. The kid really was starving, he thought, forgiving him all the Hershey bars.

His eyes met Mrs. Flowers’s eyes and she immediately went to the kitchen.

But Cole wasn’t answering; he was mumbling incoherently. Matt forced himself to

apply pressure to those bony shoulders.

“Cole, talk louder! What’s this Last Midnight about?”

You know. That’s when…all the kids… you know, they wait up and at midnight…

they get knives or guns. You know. And we go into our parents’ room while they’re

asleep and…” Cole broke down again, but Matt noticed he had slipped into saying

“we” and “our” by the end.

Meredith spoke in her calm, steady voice. “The children are going to kill their

parents, is that right?”

“He showed us where to slash or stab. Or if there’s a gun—”

Matt had heard enough. “You can stay—in the basement,” he said. “And here

are some amulets. Put them on you if you feel like you’re in danger.” He gave Cole

a whole packet of Post-it Notes.

“Just don’t be afraid,” Meredith added, as Mrs. Flowers came in with a plate of

sausages and fried potatoes for Cole. At any other time the smell would have made

Matt hungry.

“It’s just like that island in Japan,” he said. “Shinichi and Misao made it happen

there, and they’re going to do it again.”

“I say time’s running out. Actually it’s already the Last Midnight day—it’s nearly

one thirty in the morning,” Meredith said. “We have less than twenty-four hours.

We should either get out of Fell’s Church or do something to arrange a

confrontation.”

“A confrontation? Without Elena or Damon or Stefan?” Matt said. “We’ll be

murdered. Don’t forget Sheriff Mossberg.”

“He didn’t have this.” Meredith tossed the fighting stave into the air, caught it

neatly, and put it at her side.

Matt shook his head. “Shinichi will still kill you. Or some little kid will, with the semiautomatic

from Daddy’s closet.”

“We have to do something. ”

Matt thought. His head was pounding. Finally he said, head lowered, “When I got

the herbs I got Misao’s star ball, too.”

“You’re kidding. Shinichi still didn’t find it?”

“No. And maybe we could do something with it.”

Matt looked at Meredith, who looked at Mrs. Flowers. Mrs. Flowers said, “What

about pouring out the liquid in different places in Fell’s Church? Just a drop here

and a drop there? We could ask the Power in it to protect the town. Maybe it would

listen.”

Meredith said, “That was the exact reason we wanted to get Shinichi’s and

Misao’s star balls in the first place. The star balls control their owners, according to

legend.”

Matt said, “It may be old-ways thinking, but I agree.”

Meredith said, “Then let’s do it right now. ”

While the other two waited, Matt got Misao’s star ball. It had a very, very little

liquid on the bottom.

“After the Last Midnight she plans to fill it to the top with the energy of the new

lives that get taken,” Meredith said.

“Well, she’s not going to get a chance to do that,” Matt said flatly. “When we’re

done we’ll destroy the container.”

“But we probably should hurry,” Meredith added. “Let’s get some weapons

together: something silver, something long and heavy, like a fire iron. Shinichi’s little

zombies are not going to be happy—and who knows who’s on his side?”

E lena woke up feeling stiff and cramped. But that wasn’t surprising. Three other

people seemed to be on top of her.

Elena? Can you hear me?

Stefan?

Yes! You’re awake?

I’m all cramped…and hot.

A different voice interrupted. Just give us a moment and you won’t be cramped

anymore. Elena felt Damon move away. Bonnie rolled into his place.

But Stefan clung to her for a moment. Elena, I’m sorry. I never even realized

what condition you were in. Thank God for Damon. Can you forgive me?

Despite the heat, Elena cuddled closer to him. If you can forgive me for putting

the whole party in danger. I did that, didn’t I?

I don’t know. I don’t care. All I know is that I love you.

It was several minutes before Bonnie woke up. Then she said feebly, “Hey!

Whachoo doin’ in my bed?”

“Getting out of it,” Elena said, and tried to roll over and get up. The world was

wobbly. She was wobbly—and bruised. But Stefan was never more than a few

inches away, holding her, righting her when she started to fall. He helped her get

dressed without making her feel like a baby. He examined her backpack, which

fortunately hadn’t gone into the water, and then he took out anything heavy inside.

He put the heavy things in his own pack.

Elena felt much better after being given some food, and after seeing the thurgs—

both of them—eating too; either stretching their great double trunks up to break off

pieces of wood from the barren trees, or scooping away snow to find dry grass

underneath. They clearly were not going to die after all.

Elena knew everyone was watching her to gauge whether or not she was up to

any more that day. She hurried to finish drinking the tea heated over a dung fire,

trying to conceal the fact that her hands shook. After forcing some jerky down, she

said in her most cheerful voice, “So what next?”

How do you feel? Stefan asked her.

“Little sore, but I’ll be fine. I guess everyone expects me to have pneumonia, but I

don’t even have any cough.”

Damon, after one heavy-lidded glance at Stefan, took both her hands and stared

at her. She couldn’t—she didn’t dare—meet his eyes, so she focused on Stefan,

who was looking at her comfortingly.

At last Damon dropped Elena’s hands abruptly. “I went in as far as I could. You

should know how far that is,” he added to Stefan. “She’s sound, her nose is wet,

and her coat is shiny.”

Stefan looked as if he were going to smack him one, but Elena took his hand

soothingly. “I’m healthy,” she said. “So that’s two votes for me going on to save

Fell’s Church.”

“I’ve always believed in you,” Stefan said. “If you think you can go on, you can go

on.”

Bonnie sniffled. “Just don’t take any more chances, okay?” she said. “You

scared me.”

“I’m really sorry,” Elena said gently, feeling the void of Meredith’s absence.

Meredith would be a great help to both of them now. “So, shall we continue? And

where are we heading? I’m all turned around.”

Damon stood. “I think we just keep in a straight line. The path is narrow after this

—and who knows what the next trial is?”

The path was narrow—and misty. Just as before, it started in filmy veils and ended

up blinding them. Elena let Stefan, with his catlike reflexes, go first, and she held on

to his pack. Behind her, Bonnie clung like a burr. Just when Elena thought she was

going to scream if she had to keep traveling through the white blanket any farther, it

cleared.

They were near the top of some mountain.

Elena took off after Bonnie, who had hurried ahead at the sight of transparent

air. She was just fast enough to grab on to Bonnie’s pack and pull her backward as







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Трамадол (Маброн, Плазадол, Трамал, Трамалин) Групповая принадлежность · Наркотический анальгетик со смешанным механизмом действия, агонист опиоидных рецепторов...

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Менадиона натрия бисульфит (Викасол) Групповая принадлежность •Синтетический аналог витамина K, жирорастворимый, коагулянт...

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