The Flight of the Silvers (Silvers #1)(35)

Hannah leaned forward, blanching at the bewildering new change in her sister. “Amanda . . .”

“What I do condemn are people who disrespect my beliefs, especially when I’ve done nothing to provoke you but wear a tiny little symbol!”

“Amanda!”

She spun toward Hannah. “What?”

“Your hand!”

The widow peered down at her fingers and got a fresh new look at her weirdness.

The blight had returned in full force, coating her right arm in a sleek and shiny whiteness. Though the substance looked like plastic, it fit her as snugly as nylon.

David and Mia jumped up from their chairs. Hannah covered her gaping mouth.

“What the hell is that?!”

Bug-eyed, gasping, Amanda dropped to the recliner. The glistening sheath felt cool on her skin, like milk fresh out of the fridge. She could feel every bump and fold of the armrest as if she were still bare-handed.

“I don’t know. I don’t—”

The sisters both screamed as Amanda’s long white glove erupted in rocky protrusions. Her silver bracelet creaked in strain, then snapped into pieces.

By the time the jagged fragments fell to the floor, Amanda’s arm looked like it was covered in rock candy. The crags rose and fell in erratic rhythms, an ever-shifting terrain.

David looked to the door. “Uh, maybe I should get one of the—”

“No!” Zack and Amanda yelled in synch. “Just watch the hall,” Zack said. “If someone comes by, keep them out.”

Amanda flinched at Mia’s approach. “No, stay back! I don’t want to hurt you.”

Zack inched toward her, fingers extended. “Look, you just need to calm down.”

“Calm down?”

Mia nodded tensely. “He’s right. This whole thing started when he got you angry.” She moved behind Amanda’s chair and stroked her shoulders. “You’re going to be okay. Just breathe, Amanda. Breathe.”

Hannah cringed with guilt as she watched Mia soothe her sister. I should be doing that. Why didn’t I think to do that?

David peeked through a crack in the door. “Someone’s coming.”

A four-inch spike erupted from the back of Amanda’s hand. Her other arm erupted in a rash of tiny white dots. Zack jumped back.

“Jesus. All right. It’s definitely stress related. If you just relax—”

“How do you expect me to relax right now?!”

“It’s Dr. Czerny,” David announced. “And an extremely well-dressed midget.”

Amanda squinted her eyes shut. Oh God. Please. Please . . .

“Hannah, maybe you should run distraction,” Zack said.

“What should I say?”

“Anything. I don’t know. You’re the actress. Improvise.”

Amanda forced her mind into calming memories—the nature hikes she took with her father, her honeymoon cabin on the French Riviera, all the young patients who cried happy tears when they learned they were in remission.

Soon the milky crags and dots began to melt away. Mia squeezed her shoulder. “It’s working. You’re doing it.”

Amanda opened her eyes and peered down, just as the last of the whiteness retracted into her skin.

“They’re almost here . . .” David cautioned.

“It’s all right,” said Mia. “It’s gone.”

Zack wasn’t relieved. He scooped up the remnants of Amanda’s bracelet, then threw a quick glance around the room.

“Look, I don’t know who these people are, but I don’t trust them. Until we learn more, we need to keep this to ourselves. We’ll talk about the big weirdness. We won’t talk about the other stuff. Agreed?”

Hannah, David, and Mia accepted his premise with shaky nods. Amanda had the least trouble with Zack’s proposal. On this matter, she couldn’t have agreed with him more.

Two hazy shapes appeared in the smoky glass. David opened the door to Czerny and a diminutive companion. They studied their five skittish guests with leery caution.

“Is everything all right in here?” Czerny asked. “We heard noises.”

Zack hurried across the room to greet him. “The strangest thing just happened, actually. Amanda bumped her arm against the pool table and her bracelet broke apart.”

Czerny furrowed his brow at the warped silver fragments in Zack’s hand. “Huh. That is strange.” He looked to Amanda. “Are you all right?”

“She’ll be fine. I’m Zack, by the way. You Sterling Quint?”

“That would be me,” said the other man, in a stately baritone.

The guests all took a moment to study him. He was indeed a little person, as David implied, but he carried himself with the regal airs of a maharaja. He wore a lavish three-piece suit with a red silk ascot, and his feathered gray coif was flawless to a hair. Zack figured his jeweled rings alone could fund a man’s food, clothing, and shelter habit for nearly a year.

“So you’re the answer man.”

Quint nodded. “As it stands.”

“Good,” Zack replied, with an anxious breath. “Because as it stands, we have questions.”

—

The conference room was a perfect oval of hardwood and gray marble. In lieu of overhead lightbulbs, the entire ceiling glowed with milky iridescence. Mia noticed a pair of multitiered switches on the wall—one to control the ceiling’s brightness, the other to change its color.