he image of Faith Benedict shimmered into convincing solidity in his place on stage. “As most of you know, that was Louvin Interre, the rising poet, historian, and aquean rights activist. I’m deeply honored by his presence here tonight, as I hope you are.” The audience burst into another round of applause.

“What’s with the Oz act?” Demonte muttered to Hiroe. “Why hasn’t she come to her own party yet?”

“Planning a dramatic entrance later, I guess,” Hiroe said with a shrug, though she’d been wondering that herself.

The hologram continued. “Next I want to welcome to the stage—” Her voice suddenly sputtered and cut off, though her image continued to mouth words. The audience stirred and whispered. Then came a crackling sound and a woman’s voice cut in and out, finally coming in clearly from somewhere.

“Help me,” the voice said, shakily. Then it rose to a sudden shriek. “Help me, please!”

Suddenly the picture started moving, and Lyndon realized it was a video, not a still photograph. Stoughton turned on the sound with a slight movement of his finger. The blades of grass rustled as they moved and receded a few inches, then the camera panned jerkily to the left.

There was a blurred second where Lyndon couldn’t make out anything, and then a young woman’s face came into view. Her expression changed from horror to surprise, and she looked up, her chin becoming the dominant feature visible on the screen. Stoughton turned up the volume just in time for Lyndon to hear her shouts, echoing through the selfing chamber: “It’s Crenshaw Connelly! I think she’s dead!”

Stoughton paused the video and it froze on the strange angle of the woman’s face. “And there you have it,” he said with a heavy sigh. “The only known video ever taken inside the walls of Halcyon.”

He expected her to be right outside the door, but she wasn’t. He scanned nearby faces and then turned his gaze farther out.

There she was, across the street, standing next to a car—a black SUV. Her little dress with glints of silver against the black, her high-heel sandals, her silver clutch in one hand all caught his eye. A man stood with her by the open back door; another sat in the driver’s seat looking straight ahead. Brandon didn’t recognize either of them. Nasreen’s back was to Brandon, so he couldn’t see her expression. But the set of her shoulders was markedly different from her posture of a moment ago. Her head was held stiffly, alert, still.

Brandon started across the street toward her, slowly, hesitant. Something about the way she was standing seemed to warn him away.

“I love the way you write: The pacing is great, the characters are interesting and the plot is compelling. You have a wonderful way of demonstrating who the characters are at heart in ways that make the reader feel connected to them and invested in their safety, success and happiness.”

As soon as the others were out of earshot, Derek hissed to Rose, “Are you serious about this?”

She stared at him. “Didn’t you see what I did? It’s not a joke.”

He scooped up empty plates and stacked silverware on top, then took the pile to the sink. She followed with several wine glasses.

“I’m worried about you,” Derek said as he turned on the hot water and grabbed a scrub brush.

“I know,” Rose said.

“Oh, what, are you reading my thoughts now?”

She nodded. “You don’t even have to talk; it’s like an echo when you do.”

He looked closely at her. After a moment, her eyes widened. “You think this has something to do with what’s going around school?”

He nodded.

“You overheard something,” she murmured. “I can’t . . . about this happening to the kids that left school and disappeared?”

He nodded again.

“So . . . you think I’m not really psychic now?”

“Actually, I do,” he said aloud, though quietly. “I can’t believe I’m saying it; I didn’t think it was possible. But I’m worried about where you got it.”

“Got it,” she said softly. “So you think it’s like a disease.”

“Well . . .” he hesitated. “It is, I’m pretty sure.”

” This was such a fun summer read! I usually read a chapter of something while I eat breakfast, and I started Viral over breakfast this morning and didn’t want to stop, so I blew off my morning plans and read the whole thing. The writing is lean and moves quickly, which is what I want for this type of story. “