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“No,” Elias breathed.

Then the final card flipped.

A cold knot tightened in Elias’s gut. He turned the crank again. pawndex

It looked like a Rolodex—the kind from old movies, with a rotating drum of thick paper cards. But the cards weren’t paper. They were a petrified, leathery hide, and each one was stamped with a single, pristine paw print. The device had no plug, no battery cover, no maker’s mark. Just a brass crank on the side and a small brass bell on top. “No,” Elias breathed

Nothing else happened.

The man with the paw-hand stepped forward, reached out, and gently, almost lovingly, placed Elias’s thumb on the empty card. It fit the smudge perfectly. He turned the crank again

Elias looked down. His own hand was on the brass crank. Had he put it there? Or had it always been there? He tried to let go. He couldn’t.