Gemma was beside her with a stuffed rabbit — a gray one, threadbare, with one ear that had been sewn back on at some point by somebody — pressed against her chest, listening.

They looked, for exactly two more seconds, like children who were happy.

“What did I tell you,” Sabina said, “about sprawling all over the floor like a pair of little animals.”

Both girls jumped.

And it was the way they jumped that Chadworth would never be able to unsee.

It was not surprise.

Surprise is loud — a gasp, a laugh, a look up.

This was fast and small and silent.