KnockOut

thought, Cully,” Savich said. “Okay, I can’t get you free until Sherlock disarms the bomb. Don’t move.”
    Savich went down on his knees next to Sherlock. She’d gotten the lid of the black box open. “Okay, it’s definitely homemade, not sophisticated—thank you, God—nice and straightforward. Victor probably got this off the Internet, or out of a book, which is very good for us. Dillon, give me your Swiss Army Knife.”
    He handed it to her without a word.
    Sherlock looked down at a pair of wires, red and green twisted together, leading to a—timer. Why a tinier? The bomb was supposed to explode if someone hit the trip wire across the bedroom doorway, or if Cully pulled out his wire. Why a timer? Had they tried to rig the front door too?
    Sherlock cupped her hand around the small screen and read out 00:34 seconds. She sucked in her breath, forced herself to calm.
    “We’re on a timer here, guys, not much time left before the sucker explodes.”
    Savich looked at the timer over her shoulder.
    Thirty seconds, twenty-nine. He saw his son’s face clear as glass in his mind, bouncing a basketball, and then saw Sherlock leaning over him, tucking a sheet around his chest.
    Eighteen seconds, seventeen.
    He watched Sherlock untwist the wires, follow each one to its lead.
    Thirteen seconds, twelve.
    Time compressed itself into a moment, yet Savich felt each ticking second as a separate unit, each second a universe of time, yet each second somehow disappeared into the next. He couldn’t guess how many people were right now in the building, how many could die because of Victor and Lissy. He thought of the children they’d heard arguing. He heard Cully talking softly—maybe he was praying, but he wasn’t moving, and that was good since the wire connected to the duct tape around his ankles.
    Seven seconds, six.
    No more time.
    He wanted to tell Sherlock he loved her, and he opened his mouth—
    “Here we go,” Sherlock said, and he watched her slice cleanly through a yellow wire.
    His heart thudded, and his breath eased out of his mouth.
    He reached out and wiped away the line of sweat streaking down her cheek. “You did it, sweetheart, you did it.”
    Cully gave a shout. “Good going, Sherlock. Hey, I can get this duct tape off—”
    There was a loud pop.
    Sherlock said, “Hold that thought, Cully. What’s going on now?”

59
    PEAS RIDGE, GEORGIA
    Kjell was tall, well over six feet, angular, and good-looking. His shaved head glistened in the stark white light. He wore glasses.
    He bowed from the waist to Blessed, and said in a clipped British accent, “Keeper, we did not know if you would come. I see you have the little girl. Excellent. But the man and woman?”
    “The sheriff and the child’s mother.”
    “Keeper, we have never before brought outsiders here. It is a danger. Are you certain you were not followed here?”
    “I am very certain.”
    “But why did you bring them here? Why did you not rid us of them?”
    Blessed said, “I could not stymie them because of the child. I needed them to get her here.
    “Do not look away from the sheriff, Kjell. He is dangerous. As I said, no one followed us; I made very certain of that. Twilight will remain a secret. Kjell, I must see the Father immediately. There is news I must give him.”
    “Where is Grace?”
    “I must see the Father,” Blessed said again. “Take them to see the Master. Be careful with the sheriff.”
    Kjell gave him a small bow, drew a revolver from his loose pants. “The child, Keeper, she will come to embrace us, you will see.”
    Blessed gave Ethan and Joanna one last look, then smiled down at Autumn. “All will be well,” he told her, and walked through the same door as Kjell. The door closed soundlessly behind him.
    Autumn stood perfectly still and looked up at Kjell.
    He said, “Sheriff, you and the woman back up against that wall.” He came down on his knees in front of Autumn. He lifted his hand and touched her face. Autumn didn’t move, merely stared at him in his eyes.
    “What can you do?” she asked.
    Kjell smiled. “I am a student.”
    “Of what?”
    “All who are here are students. We study with the Father and with the Master. We study miracles of the mind that reach back many hundreds of years. We watch and we learn. This is an amazing place, Autumn. I also protect Twilight from anyone who would try to harm us.”
    He rose again and turned to Ethan and Joanna.
    Ethan said, “Blessed is the Keeper.