And slowed.
And, finally, it stopped.
What was left of his soul slipped free of his body and was torn to bits, devoured.
Abdel Shahin was a good man, and that was what they liked.
Out in the old warehouse, a second man emerged from the shadows. He had kept his distance during the feeding and now cast a nervous look at the barred door. Little more than a ridiculous decoration, he knew. What was inside could not be contained. In a sense, it was already loose.
The man pried his eyes from the door. “We have received information from the source,” he said.
“Have the amulet keepers arrived?” said the leader, carefully placing the heavy mask back in its leather carrier.
“Yes,” said the man. “They are here.”
“And Peshwar awaits them?” said the leader.
The man hesitated. Challenging the leader was a dangerous game. “Yes, but … are you sure this is the right way? If we give them more time, if we follow them … they could lead us to the Spells.”
“No,” said the leader flatly, “they have troubled us enough. We will cut them down. Leave the others in a ditch, but bring me the boy. Whatever he knows of his mother we will wring from him.”
The man nodded. “I have told Peshwar this, but she has no mercy in her. I worry she will kill them all, and whatever they know will die with them.”
“Then tell her to think of it as playing with her prey,” said the leader, zipping up the bag. “Cats are good at that.”
Copyright © 2015 by Scholastic Inc.
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Library of Congress Control Number: 2014951451
First edition, May 2015
e-ISBN 978-0-545-72346-6
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