Chapter 42

She moaned in protest, but her lids went farther up, though her eyes were without inner light. He raised his hand and slapped her cheek half a dozen times in quick succession. She moaned again and tried to break away from him. His arm held her and swept her along beside him from wall to wall. “Keep walking,” he ordered in a harsh voice, and then: “Who are you?” Her “Rhea Gutman” was thick but intelligible. “The daughter?” “Yes.” Now she was no farther from the final consonant than _sh_. “Where’s Brigid?” She twiste…