Is' sleep was dotted with visions of Very Duarte.
Until Very Duarte rapped on her window.
"Open up, Is!" Very Duarte insisted, banging on the window. Is rushed over and opened it up with less difficulty than the first time.
"What?" Is hissed. "It's 3:02 AM!"
"Really? Well. Anyways, I need your help. I need you and your brother!"
"How did you know I had a brother? And that my last name was Taylor?"
"That is not important!"
"No, I'm leaving Thomas out of this insanity!"
"Fine, fine. It's our funeral."
Very helped Is climb down the house in silence. "We're going to see the Below Ones."
Is didn't argue: you learn in the first ten minutes you spend with Very Duarte that Very Duarte always wins in arguments. Her bare feet tramped against the cold earth. "I am cold, Very."
"I know. I am too. But here we are." Very knelt down to a very shiny brass plate on the ground. She opened it up, grunting. "Now go in. You're going to get dirty, princess."
"Lord, Very, don't go all Han Solo on me now."
"Just go." And, against her better judgement, Is stepped into the hole.
"No need to try and fall gracefully!" Very shouted.
Is groaned as she landed on her side on the cold, dank dirt. How long had she known Very Duarte? 13 hours? And already she was in a hole. This was a record.