She had no choice but to try. Even if she hadn’t given her vow to Gilda, she still had Nika to think about. If there was even a slight chance Sibyl could help, she had to find her, no matter how horrible the place was.
She pushed away from Paul. Leaning on him felt good, but it didn’t make her feel strong, and she really needed that right now. “I need to figure out how to get there. I’m going to try again.”
Paul cupped her face and slid his thumb along her cheek. His brown eyes were filled with love and compassion, even though she’d refused to marry him less than an hour ago. She had no idea how he could look at her like that after knowing the things she’d done.
“I’ll be right here,” he told her, and pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. “I know you can do this.”
His faith in her was humbling, and she didn’t want to let him down.
She lay back on the bed, closed her eyes again, and took a few deep breaths. The pleasant warmth of Paul’s hand on hers distracted her for a few minutes until she got used to his touch. Slowly, their skin warmed to the same temperature and his hand became a part of her.
She pushed out all unnecessary thoughts and focused solely on Sibyl. She imagined the little girl lying asleep in her bed, hugging her favorite doll, completely unaware that she was in danger. It was easy to see her sleeping peacefully with her cheeks flushed pink and her hair mussed around her face.
Now that Andra had that image, she tried to imagine what happened next. Had Sibyl heard a sound and woken, or had she been asleep until the moment that she was dragged from her bed? Andra went through each possibility until one felt right and it sucked her in, taking over her mind, drawing her into the image until it surrounded her.
Sibyl had been awake when the thing came for her. It was dark, both inside and out. She’d heard its claws on the window as it slid the glass up. She’d lain there, frozen in place, but not by terror. By acceptance. She’d known it was going to happen—that there was nothing she could have done to stop it.
Or rather, there was nothing she was going to do to stop it, which was somehow worse.
Either way, Sibyl had felt no fear, which was what Andra had always used as a trail to follow the path a stolen child had taken. Without that trail, she had no way of figuring out where Sibyl had gone.
Andra searched for something to grasp on to. Something she could use. She struggled to stay relaxed and open her mind up to the possibilities. Maybe the monster had left a trail she could follow.
She felt around for a sense of satisfaction that she imagined the thing might feel at having won its prize. There was nothing there she could connect with. The thing was too inhuman—almost mindless except for the throbbing presence of hunger that controlled it, and that was too scattered to latch onto.
Dimly, Andra was aware that her already fatigued body was wearing down under the strain of staying in this trancelike state too long. She had to hurry.
What had she grasped on to before when she’d found Sibyl the first time? She’d been in Sibyl’s head, if only for a moment. There had to have been something that she used as a trail. What was it?
The vision she’d created in her mind started to fade as her body gave out; then she remembered she wasn’t alone. Paul was here. She could use his power.
Andra reached inside herself to that warm glowing spot where Paul’s skin touched hers. The luceria around her neck vibrated with energy. All she had to do was figure out how to use it for something as delicate as this. Combat was easy; she’d always had a knack for blowing things up. This stuff was much harder.
Nothing changed, and her strength was dwindling fast. She could feel her physical body shaking under the stress and tried to ignore it.
Desperate to find Sibyl, Andra focused on the exact spot where the luceria touched his matching ring. She could feel a tiny spark there, like static electricity arcing between two points. She reached for that spot, grasped hold of it with all her desperation and hope. Power flared inside her, filling her chest with heat. She was no longer tired. No longer weak. She felt invincible.
Instincts screamed at her to hurry, that she had no time to waste, so she lifted her hand and focused all that power so that it formed a sphere around her body. She willed the sphere to show her where to look for the trail—to highlight it so she could follow it.
One side of the globe flared to life and Andra knew that was her trail. She examined it. Poked at it until she felt what it was.
Acceptance.
Sibyl had accepted her fate, and the force of that emotion was so strong that it had left a trail—not as strong as fear, but strong enough that Andra could follow it.
Andra latched onto that acceptance, memorized it until she would know the feeling anywhere—be able to follow it wherever it led.
She followed the path south, her mind racing along it until she collided with a hard barrier. She found herself in a dark room with a single bare lightbulb overhead. The edges of the room were hidden in shadows, but somehow still pulsed with colors. Swirls of blue and green bloomed along the edges of the shapeless room. It reminded her of the sea swirling about rocks as the water was sucked back into the ocean by the tide.
Andra had been here before, if only for a brief moment. This was Sibyl’s mind.
From the shadows of those billowing clouds of color came a little girl. Sibyl.
She wore a frilly white dress and lacy ankle socks with shiny leather shoes. Her hair was a cascade of perfect blond ringlets tied back with a pink satin bow. In her arms, she held a doll that looked like her miniature twin, but instead of Sibyl’s pale blue eyes, the doll had glassy, dead black eyes like those of a shark. It was the doll Andra’s body was holding now.
“You didn’t come to me soon enough,” said Sibyl. “It’s too late now.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. We just found out you were missing.”
“No. I mean that I told Paul to bring you to me the night he found you. He failed to do so and now it’s too late.”
“I don’t understand,” said Andra.
“Of course not. No one ever does.” The colors behind her darkened to a deep, desolate purple. “You shouldn’t have come here. She’s looking for you.”
“Who is ‘she’?”
Sibyl looked over her shoulder, as if expecting someone to pop out from behind her. “Stay away. It’s not safe here.”
“I know. That’s why I am coming to take you home,” explained Andra.
“If you come here, you’ll be sorry,” warned the child in a singsong voice.