But I don’t have to do anything like that. I only have to step back once, twice.
East himself admitted it: the future won’t have room for everyone.
‘Henry,’ I say one last time. Maybe it’s a prompt to run, or a farewell, or just so he’ll show me his face as he realizes that I’m leaving him behind. There’s fear in his eyes, blacker than black, but not blacker than the flicker of pleasure within me. Then there’s a hint of thunder, so distant I feel it before I hear it. Then feeling and sound merge, an expanding pressure in my ears.
The Mandragora’s mouth tears with a pop, and darkness wells in the fringed gap.
Get out before that thing starts singing.
I hold my ears and back away. East stands, unsteadily, and reaches for me. I back away, digging against the faint squeal vibrating in my
