Chapter 8: The Voice

Pierce did not get to answer.

Every light in the living room went out at once.

The balloons dropped from the ceiling and lay on the carpet.

The front door slammed, and the deadbolt turned by itself.

"What is this?" my father said.

A long, low sigh filled the room.

Black mist rolled out of the corners and met in the air above the coffee table.

It stretched into a square, and the square lit up a cold blue.

Lines of pale numbers ran down its edges.

Ada stiffened beside me.

"That's new," she said. "I've been in this house thirty years. That's new."

I knew the voice before it spoke.

It had said the same flat words to me on the shoulder of a dark road.

"Ewan Fairbank has failed his mission," it said. "His account is closed."

My mother dropped to the floor.

I had never seen her kneel for anyone.

"Please," she said. "Please, whoever you are. Please. We were fools."

My father went down beside her, with his hands up.

"We didn't understand. We thought it was a story he told for attention."

"We were deceived," my mother said. "We were tricked. Pierce told us Ewan was jealous. He told us Ewan was lying."

"It's true," my father said. "That's the only reason we turned our backs. Please give our son another chance."

Pierce said nothing.

He had slid back in the armchair until the cushion stopped him.

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