Chapter 18
He can’t get you in Feral Park, Jenny told Charity, only her mouth didn’t move when she spoke. Her voice, cold, confident, comforting, spoke in Charity’s head, accompanied by the image of him, standing alone at the playground’s threshold, unable to see or hear anything within.
“He can’t follow you in there,” one of the boys said, a tall wiry kid with spiked black hair. He was maybe a year older than Charity.
“We have the power here,” the other boy, shorter, plumper, and blond, said. “If he comes inside, he’ll never leave.”
“Never?” Charity asked. She knew it was true, sensed it was, but needed to hear it.
“Ever,” the three said in tandem.
Welcome, Charity.
Then they moved around her in a triangle of which Jenny was the tip, and moved toward the playground, their Never
