“All right?” asked the man with the light eyelashes, suddenly appearing in the doorway. The infant’s body, now missing its pulverized head, was still twitching among the blood-soaked ruins of corpses. With this view, Jack was carried—for he was no longer able to move without assistance— to a ward called the Castle, situated over the gateway on the western side, in what was considered the strongest part of the jail. Michelle was on her like a fly, asking her questions about her past foster homes she did her best to avoid, pretending to be swamped every night with sudden reams of homework and unable to be reached by phone. “This is the slavery of the veiled life.
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