The Gift

Chapter 92

Whit

I can't even begin to understand what Byron Swain just told me. It has to be lies.

I have a plan forming, but in the meantime, I pick up every object within grabbing range and start hurling it out the window at him and his beasts. Books, candlesticks, cook's tools, framed pictures. You name it, I toss it outside.

I have a good throwing arm, but unfortunately the little creep is obviously experienced at dodging projectiles.

"Wisty!" he shouts in between ducks. "Please come with me! This is your last chance to accept my offer. Do what your parents have been preparing you for your whole life!"

At that, I hurl a standing lamp at him like a spear. It hits Byron in the side and spins him around, but he doesn't go down.

Then Wisty stuns me. In the quietest voice, she whispers, "Mom and Dad did say… that sometimes we needed to do things that won't feel natural."

"They said 'outside of your comfort zone,' not stupid!" I yell at Wisty. Immediately I regret it. But it's too late. Even Byron rises out of his defensive crouch and glares at me.

"Did you just call your sister stupid, Whit?" he shouts.

"No." In a sense. "I told her going anywhere with you was stupid. And it is."

"Well, you've denigrated Wisty for the last time."

"Byron!" Wisty calls urgently. "It's fine! I swear! It's an affectionate nickname!"

"Sayonara, Whitford Allgood," Byron says, and throws me a rigid salute.

And that's when he blows a new tune on his Command Pipe, and the Kill Team reengages in the hunt-by climbing ape-style up the side of the building and crashing through what's left of the windows.

Well, I guess we thought coming here to Mrs. Highsmith's would be a game changer. Looks like it is.