Skale spooked him with his response. It was as if he could read Michael’s mind. “All my friends know that a day will come when it’s their time to serve as nourishment. They usually take it with honor, knowing they’ve lived a good life.”

For some reason that angered Michael. “You do realize that all of this isn’t real. Right?”

“Who knows the true definition of real?” Skale said evenly as he continued to eat. “When you’ve been trapped in one place in the Sleep this long, it’s all as real as anything else. Now eat.”

They did so in silence for a while. They’d need strength for whatever awaited them—which finally made Michael speak up again.

“So there are demons. Kaine’s a Tangent. Anything else we should know?” The sarcasm was thick.

Gunner Skale finished chewing, took a drink, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve again, leaving a smear of moisture across his red cloak. “You’ve already been given the information you need, if you’re willing to search for it. I hope your memory is strong, my son.”

“My son?”

“You have a nasty habit of repeating things I say, boy. I highly recommend you stop this practice.”

The tone of the man’s voice made Michael nod, suddenly humbled. The old man had some fire in him, that was for sure. But Michael didn’t know how Skale planned to back up his veiled threats—unless the animals would do whatever he commanded. Getting eaten by a bear didn’t sound very fun.

“Don’t you have anything else to tell us?” Sarah asked. She’d been so quiet.

Skale stood up and took off his cloak, then held it out. The bear growled, a rumbling sound that came from deep in its chest, as it came over, took the red fabric, folded it over its arm, then walked away. Michael was half disappointed it didn’t bow and speak in a British accent.

“Let’s move into the sitting room,” Skale said. “Rest our bones as I promised before.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He simply walked toward a door on the far side of the room and left. Michael shot Sarah a glance, then downed a couple more bites and one last swig of water. They both got up and hurried after their host, and Michael was sure his friend was thinking the same thing he was: being left alone with all those circus animals seemed like a really bad idea.

2

“What do you two know about the Deep?” Skale asked after they’d settled down into oversize chairs facing a cozy, flickering fire nestled within a brick hearth.

Michael leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. “You mean Lifeblood Deep?”

“Lifeblood Deep,” the man repeated with a huff. “Is that really the only program you think has been escalated to such status?”

Michael didn’t know what the man meant.

“To Deep status?” Sarah asked.

Skale nodded, never shifting his gaze from the fire. Michael could see the dancing flames reflected in his eyes. “Yes, what else? The Deep has been around since the beginning of the VirtNet, and only a few programs have reached its level. Lifeblood is the only one that’s public, and barely deserves the name.”

“What else is there?” Michael asked.

“That’s for you to discover in your own time. But one of them is the Hallowed Ravine.” Skale stood and walked to the fireplace, stirred up the flames with an iron poker. “It’s a program created by Kaine, hidden within the Deep. The Path connects it to the upper layers of the VirtNet. You’re lucky to have made it this far, luckier still if you make it all the way.” He stopped and turned to look at Michael and Sarah. “Let me ask you, haven’t you wondered how such a path could be created? One that the great and powerful VNS needs you to lead them to?”

Michael wanted to know everything, but he had no idea what to even ask. “So … why are you telling us this? All you’re giving us is riddles and clues that don’t help.”

“No clues, boy!” the man half shouted. He came back and sat in his chair. “I’m just talking to pass the hours until the demons come out. But maybe I’m tired. It might do us all some good to sleep.”

“When do the demons come out?” Sarah asked, as if asking the time.

Skale stood up, once again gazing into the fire as if hypnotized. “They come when they are ready to rip and slay. Good night, now. The bear will show you to your beds.” He took one last, longing look into the flames, then turned and walked away, disappearing through a wooden door that closed behind him.

As tired as Michael was, sleep still seemed like the last thing he could manage. “He said those words again.”

“What?” Sarah asked.

“Rip and slay. Didn’t this guy ever learn about bedtime stories?” Maybe the bear will give us one that’s a little more chipper, Michael thought glumly.

3

Despite Skale saying he’d be shown to his bed, Michael was led to a rickety couch. It was hard and uncomfortable and squeaked every time he moved, but it was better than the floor. He pulled a scratchy woolen blanket up to his chin and closed his eyes. A candle burned on a desk nearby, and he could see its flickering glow even with his eyes closed.

The attack came all at once.

A brutal, splintering pain cut through the middle of his head so suddenly that he fell off the couch, clutching at his temples with both hands. A piercing sound filled his head, partnered with a blinding light, and he wailed in agony, sensed Sarah appearing by his side, grabbing his shoulders, shaking him, asking what was wrong. Michael thrashed, trying to make her let go, afraid of what he might do to her.

Images flashed across his mind’s eye. His mom and dad, their forms wavering until they vanished like a puff of smoke in the wind. Then Helga, her face screwed up in terror. She disappeared, too. Then Bryson, his eyes peering at Michael, full of hatred. Then he was gone.

The pain didn’t cease, and he knew if it got any worse he’d faint, possibly die. He tried to stand. He opened his eyes to see Sarah on the floor, looking up at him with a terrified expression on her face. The candle still burned, but now it seemed as bright as the sun, and Michael had to turn away. He stumbled, threw his arms out for balance—it felt as if up was down and down was up. As if the room was turning and at any moment he would be thrown to the wooden rafters crossing the ceiling.

The couch stretched out, kept stretching, getting longer and longer even though the room stayed the same size. Sarah’s head grew until her face was a horror from a fun house. The boards of the floor began to warp and twist, bending like they were made of rubber. And the sound of the horde pulling Bryson apart filled his head.