Becca cleared a space for me on her bed, and she sat at her desk. Since I had last been here, Becca had managed, somehow, to scrounge up even more electronics and cram them in the already tight space. The air smelled like hot electronics and dusty cooling fans, which also leant a sustained whirring to the background noise. Dismantled computers, old monitors, reams of paper, two rolls of electrical tape balanced on their sides, a stack of power supplies—all of this had been here before, although it looked like Becca had acquired more of some and gotten rid of others. What was new, though, was the calendar. It showed a lean guy with what looked like a sixteen-pack of abs as he worked at a computer, and he was wearing the skimpiest boxer-briefs I’d seen in my entire life. At the top of the calendar was printed The Boys of Cyberspace and below that Mr. October.
I cleared my throat, fixed my attention firmly on Becca, and told myself not to blush.
“It was a gag gift,” Becca said defensively. “From a friend.”
“Right.”
“I didn’t buy it, Vie.” Then Becca stared at me, and I realized she was waiting for me to acknowledge what she’d said.
“I, uh, didn’t know that coding boys were so, um, gifted.”
Becca growled, and I ducked as a motherboard flew at my head.
“What about Belshazzar’s Feast?” I said, hoping she couldn’t hear the note of desperation in my voice.
The look on her face told me that she hadn’t forgotten my comment, but she turned on the monitor and clicked her mouse a few times. “It’s a Bible story.”
“I guess that explains why I haven’t heard of it. What’s it about?”
“Belshazzar and Daniel. Belshazzar was the king of Babylon, and Daniel was a captive Jew. One night, while Belshazzar was giving a feast, a hand appeared and wrote those words on the wall.” She nodded at the words next to her window.
“Why’d you write them?”
“It helps me think.”
“Whose hand was it?”
“God’s, I guess. Or an angel’s.”
“Why did they have to show their hand? Why couldn’t they just make the words appear by magic?”
“I don’t know, Vie. I didn’t write the story, and I’m not God, and I wasn’t there three thousand years ago.”
“Sorry.” I couldn’t help it. My eyes darted back to Mr. October, and this time, I felt like my whole body caught on fire. I didn’t dare look back at Becca, so I shifted my gaze to the carpet and said, “Go on.”
“Anyway,” she said, dragging the word out with her irritation, “nobody could interpret the words except Daniel. When he saw them, he immediately understood what they meant: numbered, numbered, weighed, and divided.”
“What?” I asked the carpet.
“It meant that Belshazzar’s days had been numbered, he had been judged and found wanting, and his kingdom would be taken from him and divided. And it happened, at least, according to the story. That night, Darius attacked, killed Belshazzar, and took over Babylon.”
Caught up in the story, I forgot—for the moment—about Mr. October and met Becca’s gaze. “It’s a declaration of war.”
Becca nodded. “I think so.”
“So that spirit or whatever it was in the school, it was working for Makayla and Mr. Big Empty.” I frowned. “That doesn’t make sense, though. I was certain it wanted to help.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It just felt that way.”
“Well, the message it sent was not a friendly message. It was telling you that your kingdom is about to be taken away from you, and you’re going to be killed.”
“My kingdom?”
Becca waved her hand expansively. “It’s a metaphor, Vie.”
“I hate metaphors. So what do we do now?”
“Well, let’s not do what Belshazzar did. When you see the writing on the wall, you can’t just sit around and wait.”
“When we were at the school,” I said, “I felt this weight. No, that’s not quite right. It was like pressure, kind of like how it feels when you try to walk through a swimming pool, only the water was moving against me. It made it hard for me to use my ability. Then, when we found Makayla and Hailey in the woods, I felt it again, only stronger. I couldn’t use my ability at all.”
“So those two are connected,” Becca said. “Is it possible Makayla has some sort of ability too?”
I nodded. “We know there are more people than just me that can do weird things. Mr. Big Empty can pull people into dreams. He can compel people to do certain things. He can even possess bodies.”
“But you told me it wasn’t easy for him,” Becca said. “He has to hurt them.”
I nodded again. “He has to do terrible things to them. I don’t know what, exactly, but I know that it . . . I guess I should say, I think that it breaks them. Their minds and their bodies.”
Becca had gone pale, but she said, “River had an ability too. He could manifest something. A projection, or a force, or some part of himself. He could use it to kill.”
“And Temple Mae,” I said. Becca and I had only spoken about this once before, immediately after that night at Austin’s house. “She snapped Lena’s neck just by looking at her. And one time, when we were at school, she got really mad at me. I think she used her ability then, too, and she dented a locker.” I tried to chuckle, but it sounded like dry bones rattling in my throat. “It looked like somebody hit that thing with a sledgehammer.”
“So if Makayla does have an ability, it sounds like she can use it to stop you from using yours.” Becca cocked her head. “Do you think she can use it against anyone?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea. Why?”
“Ever since you told me that Luke captured and killed Samantha, I was sure that he had taken Makayla too. After all, he was obsessed with Samantha, but he hated Makayla. She humiliated him. But if she’s alive . . .”
“Then what really happened that night she went missing?” I grimaced. “I don’t know.”
“And what does Mr. Big Empty want out of this? What’s his endgame? If he can possess people, why doesn’t he possess someone important? A senator, a CEO, the President of the United States?”
“Because he can’t get to them. At least, not by himself. He’d need help. He’d need—” And then I thought of the Biondi mobsters: men and women willing to kill, willing to do just about anything, and they’d do it because they wanted money and power. If they really did have an alliance with Mr. Big Empty, the way he had suggested, then they could probably arrange for him to meet some very important people. I sighed and said, “I don’t think I want to know what he’s planning. But I’m pretty sure we need to find out.”
“Last chance,” she said. “I can have Austin over here in fifteen minutes, and we can get you to Billings this evening.”
“Can’t,” I said, standing and straightening my jeans. As I slipped my hands into my pockets, my fingers closed around the small, wrapped box that Sara had given me: the present for Austin. What was it? One nail slid along the edge of the paper. I’d open it when I got home, decide if it was a good gift, and then I’d re-wrap it. “I’ve got a murder to solve. And besides, I need to pick up as many shifts as I can over the next couple weeks.”
“Emergency cash in case you have to run?”
I shook my head. “I’ve got to buy a suit for the dance.”
“Vie, I’m telling you, you shouldn’t get your hopes—”
“But first,” I said, cutting her off, “I’ve got to search Mr. Warbrath’s house. We still haven’t asked the most important question.”
Nodding slowly, Becca said, “Why did they kill him? Jesus, I didn’t even think about that.”
“How do you feel about misdemeanor-level breaking and entering?”
“I’ll grab my coat,” Becca said, getting up from the desk.
“You’d better grab one for him too.” I nodded at Mr. October. “He’s probably freezing.”
This time, I was too slow, and a roll of duct tape bounced off my forehead.