The movement was two pale shapes, like starfish, pressed against the glass. Olivia squinted. Not starfish; hands. Not siren hands either; human hands. Human hands. She knew those hands. Olivia gasped, recoiling from the screen. “That’s Tory,” she said, through the hand that was clamped over her mouth, blurring and blocking her words. “She’s in the pool. How do we get that wall up?”
Like. No. Absolutely not. Tory would have been done for.
