The Vanishing Stair (Truly Devious #2)(50)

“I knew that I was … changing. I just didn’t know how.”

“Now you know.”

“I’m an icer. One of the monsters.”

“No, you are not one of the monsters.” Catalina’s voice sharpened. “Monsters do evil things because they can. You’ve got a new talent, but you are the same man you have been all along.”

“You’ve only known me since this morning.”

“Your aura is strong, but it’s stable, and you are in full control.”

“You can really see all that?”

“Yes,” she said. “I can also see that you are in desperate need of sleep. You burned a lot of energy today, and from what you told me earlier you didn’t get any sleep last night. You need to rest.”

“It might not be a good idea for me to sleep.”

“Are you afraid you’ll wake up in the attic?”

“I’m serious, damn it.”

“Go to sleep, partner,” Catalina said. “I’ll wake you when we get to Fogg Lake.”

“You’ve still got that auto-injector?”

“Yes, but I won’t need it.”

“Keep it handy.”

“Okay.”

He gave up trying to fight the exhaustion. He bunched up his jacket, wedged it into the corner created by the door and the headrest of the seat, and closed his eyes.

He was out between one breath and the next.

He fell straight into the locked-up-in-the-attic dream.

“What did you put in the food this time?” he asks.

“Just a little something to ease the visions,” Uncle Victor says. “How long are you going to keep me locked up?”

“Until you have recovered,” Uncle Lucas says. “Eat the soup. You’ll feel better afterward.”

“I don’t want any more drugs. They might make me sleep, but the nightmares are worse than the hallucinations.”

“You need to sleep,” Uncle Lucas says. “Eat the soup. If you don’t you’re going to end up in Halcyon Manor.”

He picks up a spoon and starts to eat the sedative-laden soup …



“Wake up, Slater,” Catalina said. “We’re almost there. Just in time, too. It’s getting dark. Night comes early in these mountains. Another half hour and we wouldn’t have been able to make it into town.”

He opened his eyes, braced for four walls and a room full of nightmares. But all he saw were tendrils of fog creeping out of the heavy woods that bordered the narrow road.

A battered sign came up in the headlights of the SUV.

WELCOME TO FOGG LAKE. NOTHING TO SEE HERE.





CHAPTER 21


The sharp raps on the front door sounded just as Catalina was studying the limited selection of canned goods in the kitchen cupboard and trying to decide whether to heat up beans or chicken soup for breakfast.

“It’s Bev Atkins, Catalina, dear. Heard you arrived in town late last night. Figured you might need some basics for breakfast. I’ve got eggs and a fresh loaf of bread for you.”

Catalina closed the cupboard. She walked quickly out of the old kitchen and across the small, cozy living room. She opened the door and smiled at the cheerful middle-aged woman on the front step.

“Good morning, Ms. Atkins,” she said.

“It’s Bev, dear. You’re not a little girl anymore. No need to be so polite.” Bev held out a picnic hamper. “Here you go. Everything you need for breakfast. Enough for two people. I heard you had a friend with you.”

By now it was a good bet that everyone in Fogg Lake knew she had brought a friend with her. It would be interesting to see if the welcome baskets continued to arrive after word went out that the friend was an Arganbright and that he was from the Foundation.

Catalina took the basket. “Thank you so much. I really appreciate this. I didn’t think to do some grocery shopping before leaving Seattle. Mom keeps some canned goods on hand, but it would have been beans and chicken soup for breakfast if you hadn’t dropped by.”

“Euclid will have the general store open later this morning, so you’ll be able to stock up.” Bev peered past Catalina’s shoulder. “Is your friend up and about yet?”

Slater spoke before Catalina could say anything.

“I am up and hungry,” he said. He crossed the room and came to a halt just behind Catalina. “Slater Arganbright.” He glanced at the contents of the picnic hamper. “That looks great.”

Bev’s eyes widened. “Arganbright?”

“Yes, ma’am. One of Victor Arganbright’s nephews. I don’t think I caught your name.”

Catalina decided she was under no obligation to explain or defend Slater’s presence. He was an Arganbright. He could fend for himself. She gave him a bland smile.

“This is Beverly Atkins,” she said. “She lives just down the road.”

Slater ducked his head in polite acknowledgment of the introduction. “Ms. Atkins.”

“We don’t get a lot of visitors from the Foundation,” Bev said, her tone turning sharp. “Generally speaking, we don’t have the sort of problems that tend to attract the attention of that bunch in Las Vegas, thank goodness.”