Chapter 7
For a moment, that black is all I see. Slowly, my living room comes into focus. The sofa with Nigel and Sadie—he has her pulled close, tucked in his arm. Darien in the hardback chair, his expression like granite. Malcolm at the mantelpiece. And the entity, holding us all in its thrall.
“So you see,” it says, its tone self-satisfied, “three times.”
I draw in a deep breath. My legs ache as if I’ve just completed the run from the warehouse. I can almost taste the salt of my sweat, the grime from my time spent tethered to that pole, and the fear that burned the back of my throat.
“You can ... do that? Take us into the past?” My words are breathless, but even I can hear the curiosity in them. This is a notion that’s both amazing and terrifying.
The entity brushes some imaginary l
