“I can’t.”
“You can,” argues Nine with a frustrated sigh, “but you won’t.”
I shrug. “Call it what you want. I’m not gonna let you anywhere near me. Sorry.”
“Very well. Then I’ll just have to do it myself.”
What? No. “You’re not allowed. You need my permission. You can’t—”
The creak of my doorknob turning cuts through the room, interrupting my frantic shouts. I clench my jaw shut, clamping my teeth together because, if I don’t, I’ll start screaming. I know I will. And the last thing I need is to be sedated again.
Frankie peeks his head inside of my room. The fluorescent light bulb continues to flicker, the light bouncing off of his oily hair. I only realize how loud the hum has gotten when Frankie glances up at it in confusion.
I use those two seconds to steal a look at the corner.
As sudden as he arrived, Nine is gone. Good. I don’t know what would have been worse: explaining Nine to Frankie if the big tech saw him, or dealing with reality when it turned out that Frankie couldn’t.
He points up at the dying bulb. “This just go out?”
I can’t speak yet. My heart is lodged in my throat, thumping away like mad. Okay. I was wrong. The absolute last thing I needed right now is to deal with one of the techs walking in on me while I’m having a full-blown freak-out at Nine.
Who cares that the Shadow Man is gone? It actually makes it worse.
Gulping, trying to force back the lump inside my throat, I simply nod.
“I was coming to tell you that it’s lights out. Gonna lock the doors in a few. You okay in here, Thorne?”
My mouth is dry. That was a direct question. I’m not so sure I can get away with nodding again. My voice is weak, a little shaky, as I try to come up with a reason why I look like I’m about to lose it. Frankie’s not dumb. I see the furrow in his brow as he peers closely at me. He knows something is up.
I point at the light. “Just trying to figure out how to get it to stop doing that. It’s kinda freaking me out, the way it keeps flickering like that. You don’t think it’s gonna blow, do you?”
He glances up at it in concern, as if the idea has occurred to him, too. “Better safe than sorry,” he decides. “I’ll go get maintenance.”
“Oh. Really? Thanks.”
“Hang tight. I’ll be right back.”
Frankie closes the door behind him when he leaves. There’s not much time. I immediately scramble out of my bed, tiptoeing toward the door. There’s a small, square window in the center. I peek out into the corridor.
Nurse Pritchard is standing near the nursing station, filing a chart. Kelsey is putting her coat on, ready to end her shift. Frankie is nowhere in sight.
“I don’t like the way he was looking at you. He watched you too long.”
At the sound of the lyrical voice with a harsh edge, I whirl around just as the fluorescent light finally gives out. It pops, the light dimming as the annoying humming whines to a stop. All I can hear now is my frightened breathing.
Nine moves like a cat. I mean it. I never see him come or go. He’s just there. Where did he disappear to?
Even worse, why do I insist on bringing him back?
Squinting in the sudden darkness, I pick him out from the rest of the shadows. “I thought you were gone.”
“I’m not going anywhere without you, especially now that I’m sure the asylum has been comprom
ised. Someone has to protect you, Shadow. I gave my word. I must do this.”
There’s a threat in there that’s impossible for me to ignore. I back up against the closed door, prepared to bang on it if he even so much as looks at me funny. “Stay back. You can’t touch me. I won’t let you.”
“That’s fine,” Nine says solemnly. Then, for the first time tonight, he steps out of the pitch-dark shadows in the corner. The air shifts and I know—I just… I just know—that Nine is actually here with me. Not in the same room, not tucked in the shadows, but within touching reach. He’s really, really here. And then he tells me, “I don’t have to have your permission for this.”