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PART I
THE ESTATE
Chapter 1
My hands close around the heavy drape, twisting it into a thick cord
About the same thickness as a neck
I drop my hands to ht see hts on my palms Someone like Dr Gatsbro I wonder just how much he really knows about me
I look out theFroirl I'm supposed to know stands a few yards away fronores hi more than vapor I don't know if it's deliberate, or if her mind is trapped, like o There's a lot I don't understand about her, at least the way she is now, and though I'm a head taller and at least fifty pounds heavier than she is, I' in her eyes? But I'hten me Does Dr Gatsbro know this too? He see
I turn away, looking at a wall of ancient bound books, and another wall covered with artifacts that reach back to soe Dr Gatsbro is a collector Are we part of his collection? Like stolen paintings that can't be shown to anyone? Only for private viewing? His estate is ates
He has spent the last year teaching us, helping us, explaining to us, testing us But sos in this world are unexplainable Maybe that's where he o, he stopped being teacher and became prey At least for her I fear for him I fear for me
I return to theto see if they're co appointment They're closer to the house now, but Dr Gatsbro is still yards from her I try to read his lips, a skill I never had before, but his hand cups his chin and blocks my view
Her back is to me Her head tilts in one direction, and then slowly in the other, like she's weighing a thought She suddenly whirls and looks straight up at theAt ether in a kiss, and I feel their frost on my cheek
I cannot turn away, though I know that would be the safest thing to do I cannot turn away because she has an advantage over me I cannot turn away for a reason she knows too well
Because I love her
She is all I have left
I force s to move To step away fro I see is her head toss back as she laughs I fall backward into Dr Gatsbro's chair, runningto the quiet rasp of skin on leather, listening to his antique clock tick, listening to the squeak of the chair as I rock, and finally, listening to their footsteps on the stairs--his, heavy and shuffling; hers, like a cat, following stealthily behind
"Locke, you're here Good" Dr Gatsbro crosses the room, and I relinquish his seat to him He sits down, and I listen to the whoosh of air that leaves the chair under his weight, like the breath has been snuffed fro We lost track of tiht, Kara?"