Without thinking, I reached out for George’s and Bess’s hands; they both grabbed mine, squeezing to let me know they were just as freaked as I was. “Please,” Dagger went on, his voice just as cool and calm as always. “The map, please.” Henry shot an alarmed look at the rest of us—as if to say, You saw that, right?—and then held the map out to Dagger. “Knock yourself out, dude.” Dagger took the map without comment. He pushed the handle of the knife between his torso and upper arm and held it there while he used both hands to spread out the map. He didn’t make another peep; didn’t look at the rest of us; didn’t make any move to touch the knife. At one point, he took one finger and pressed it to his lip, thinking. “Hmmmmm,” he said. “Well. Hmmmmm.” I looked at Bess and George. What was happening here? I didn’t know what to think; was Dagger—or the Stranger Formerly Known as Dagger—going to kill us now? Was he just waiting to figure out where we were on the map before he gutted us like fish and buried us in the woods?
