Selena fired, and I watched as a bullet passed straight through the boy. A bolt came within a foot of his body, but he waved his hand, and it fell to the ground.
This was what Ink had smelled at the crime scene.
This was the kind of monster who could kill without leaving a trail.
This was a nightmare, dressed up like a boy.
It started walking toward us, and a sense of déjà vu washed over my body. There was something familiar about this thing, this boy. Something more than the way he smelled—or didn’t smell—and the serious expression on his face.
“River,” he said.
For a split second, there was silence all around us, and then River replied, her voice barely more than a whisper, but filled with a whole host of emotions, each as sharp as glass.
One word.
She just said one word.
“Griff
