Sebastian

wall?" He made another slice down her arm, almost as an afterthought. "I had thought of keeping you for a while, but even though you are far more insignificant than you want to believe, you are still one of the enemies."
    As he raised the knife, Nigelle finally understood what she was looking at and what she'd done by poking that hole in the wall inside the forbidden garden, finally understood where the dark, secret landscapes anchored in her garden had come from.
    And as the knife came down, she understood one other thing.
    It's afraid of Belladonna.
     
     
     
    After It had drained every heartbeat of fear It could from the girl, It dragged her across the grass and through the flower bed, leaving the body on the rust-colored sand. The bonelovers would find the remains soon enough.
    The Dark Ones' spawn couldn't be trusted, but they could be useful. Discovering that the Landscapers and Bridges didn't remember what they truly were—or had been long ago—had been delightful. They were still the enemy, and even though they didn't have the power the True Enemy controlled, they stood in the way of Its changing the world into an endless hunting ground.
    So now was the time to strike, when so many would be in the buildings instead of the gardens. In the gardens there was more chance of them escaping, no matter how quickly Its creatures attacked. But in the buildings they would be nothing more than prey. By the time they realized the Eater of the World was among them, it would be too late.
    It walked over to the pool of murky water, changing Its shape to match Its creatures in that landscape.
    Moving swiftly through the water, It shuddered as It thought of that one sealed garden. Then It dismissed the thread of fear before the feeling could become a strangling rope.
    By the time It was done with this place, that sealed garden would be an island no one could reach.
    The ground beneath the circle of sand-colored bricks shifted. Altered. Hot, bubbling mud oozed up, pushed its way through the cracks between the bricks.
    One brick tilted. Sank. Another brick tilted toward that empty space. Sank.
    Another. And another.
    As the change reached the center of the circle, the sundial, that hated reminder of the dance between Dark and Light, wobbled, fell, broke.
    Sank.
     

 

     
     

Chapter Nine

 

     
     

     
    Lynnea woke slowly, the scent of clean linen and cool air giving her a sense of well-being.
    Until she opened her eyes. And remembered.

    After crossing the bridge, she didn't know how long or how far she had walked before she had caught a glimpse of steady lights that indicated some sort of settlement.
    There had been lights before that, the bob and weave of lanterns held by people moving around in the dark. And there had been music, a cheerful sound coming from a distance. She'd almost followed the lights and the music, but a feeling had come over her, as if the ground under her feet were trying to hold on to her, making every step a battle of wills—as if something all around her were whispering, That's not what you want. That's not what you're looking for . And then…
    Come to me.
    She remembered the man's voice, and thought, He needs me . She didn't know why she was so certain of that—no one had ever needed her—but it had been enough to make her turn away from the lights and the music and keep moving until she'd reached a low rise and had seen the steady lights shining below her.
    Then it all became a blur of struggling to reach something that remained out of reach. Maybe it would have been easier to give in, to get swept along with whatever forces were trying to draw her away. And maybe she would have given in, except…
    He needs me!
    The world snapped back into focus when she crept out of the alley where he had found her.
    She'd never seen a man who was storybook handsome, but he was. And the clothes he wore. Denim was considered workingman's cloth because it was sturdy, but she'd never seen a pair of pants that fit a man like that . And the shirt that made his eyes so impossibly green. And a leather jacket. Mam would have called him a bad influence just because of the way he looked.
    But he'd been kind. He'd been annoyed about something, angry even, when he'd first seen her. Having lived with Pa and Ewan, she recognized temper in a man's eyes. But he'd taken her to a place where she could eat and had given up his room so she could sleep.
    "Sebastian," she whispered. Just the sound of his name warmed her,