Shadowlands (Shadowlands (Hyperion)) (20 page)

We drove to the northwest point of the island in silence, me wedged in the front seat of an old, rusty pickup truck between Joaquin and Tristan, with Krista’s sneakered feet on my thigh. Joaquin was driving, and Krista sat sideways on Tristan’s lap. Three cars full of the others trailed behind us, their headlights occasionally catching in the rearview mirror, blinding me at random intervals.

The light filled the car. The jarring crunch as the truck slammed into our bumper. Darcy screaming. My dad desperate at the wheel. Then the weightlessness, the pain, the terror. My father dead splayed on the ground.

“Take a left here,” Tristan said.

I slammed back into the present. I realized I was clutching Tristan’s arm, and I slowly released my grip. He looked me in the eye, but not in a disturbed or judging way. He looked at me as if he understood.

Joaquin leaned over the steering wheel, squinting into the darkness through the windshield. “Where?”

“Right there!” Tristan said, raising his voice for the first time since I’d known him.

I spotted the dirt road at the exact same time as Joaquin, and then the truck veered left and the tires squealed, kicking up sand and dirt behind us. I gripped Tristan’s shoulder as we made the turn. Krista’s head banged against the passenger-side window.

“Ow,” she said plainly, rubbing at it.

No one asked if she was all right. Everyone was too focused on the small, wind-battered cottage bobbing in and out of view as Joaquin navigated the bumpy road. My sister was inside that house. Alive or dead, she was there. I was sure of it.

The fog clung to the bay like the meringue on top of a lemon pie, and a few fingers of mist curled around the base of the house. Off to our left was the bridge, a tall, coppery structure with two towers, leading from the island off into the fog. It was even bigger than I’d thought, hovering over the water like a massive alien structure.

“Stop here,” Tristan said. Joaquin hit the brakes, parking just around the bend from the cottage, the car camouflaged by a huge forest of overgrown reeds.

“Kill the lights,” Tristan instructed. Joaquin did as ordered.

Behind us, the other cars cut their lights as well and rolled to a stop. Several car doors popped. Within seconds, the rest of the group had gathered around our truck, hoods drawn, flashlights off.

“What do we do now?” Fisher asked, his voice deep. His nostrils were wide, his jaw set. He looked like he was ready to rumble.

“We go in.” Joaquin started to open his door, but I felt a surge of panic and grabbed his shoulder.

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?” Joaquin snapped. “We’re wasting time.”

“Hear her out,” Tristan said.

Joaquin exhaled loudly through his nose but sat back, the springs under his ancient vinyl car seat squealing.

“This guy is a genius,” I told them. “He traveled the country killing girls and managed to elude the authorities for ten years. He baited me into coming here. Going inside could be a trap.”

“So what do you want to do?” Krista asked quietly.

I pressed my lips together. I could just see the top of the roof over the reeds.

“We make him come to us,” I said determinedly.

I gestured for Joaquin to get out of the truck. I slid out after him, and my knees almost buckled when my feet hit the dirt. I took a breath to steel myself and walked to the front of the car, the crowd of locals parting around me. My feet crunched on pebbles, sand, and broken shells as I tromped down the lane toward the house. I stopped ten feet from the door, Tristan behind my right shoulder, Joaquin behind my left, the rest of them gathered around like a small army.

In my mind’s eye, I saw Steven Nell’s dry hands as they grabbed me. Felt his breath against my face. Saw the watery film in his eyes. Every inch of me was shaking, but I curled my fingers into fists. I had to do this. I had to save my sister.

“Steven Nell!” I shouted at the top of my lungs.

Dead silence. There was no wind, no waves, nothing.

“I’m here! I did what you wanted!” I screamed, my voice breaking. “Now let me see my sister!”

We waited. I breathed in and out, counting the beats of my heart.
Onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineteneleventwelve—

The door creaked open. My breath stopped. Tristan took a step closer to me. I felt his chest against the back of my shoulder. The shaft of light grew wider. Wider.

“Rory Miller!” Steven Nell’s reedy voice called out. “Won’t you come inside and play?”

Bile rose up in the back of my throat. Tristan took my hand, his warm fingers lacing around mine. “No! I want to see my sister first.”

“You’ll only see your sister if you come inside,” he taunted, still hovering out of sight.

My heart slammed in my chest. My pulse pounded in my temples. Never in my life had I felt this terrified, this cold, this unsure. But I had to save Darcy. I’d come here to save Darcy. I took one step forward.

“What’re you doing?” Joaquin whispered. “You said yourself going inside could be a trap.”

“Let her go,” Tristan said, releasing my hand.

“I don’t know about this, dude,” Joaquin said. “I don’t like it.”

Something inside of me snapped. I was sick of them talking about me like I wasn’t there. Deciding what to tell me and when to keep me in the dark. This had nothing to do with them. This was about me and my sister. “I don’t care if you like it or not,” I said sharply. “Darcy’s in that house, and I’m going in there to get her.”

Joaquin and Tristan looked at each other. Neither one said another word. A light breeze kicked up as I approached the squat white building. Light shone through one cracked window. The roof sagged at the center, and the whole front porch leaned to the right. The boards let out a loud wail as I stepped up toward the front door, and the wind lifted my hair off my neck. I glanced back once at Tristan and Joaquin. They were as still as statues. Then I turned and stepped over the threshold. Darcy jumped up from the floor and lunged at me.

“Rory! Oh my god! Rory!”

I pushed her tangled hair back from her face, tears streaming down my cheeks. “Are you okay?” I whispered. “What did he do to you?”

She shook her head. There was dirt all over her pink tank top and blood on her shoulder, but otherwise she looked okay. Terrified, but okay.

“Nothing. He said he wanted you,” she sobbed. “He said we were just waiting for you.”

“Where is he?” I asked, shaking as my eyes darted around the small room. There was a tiny wooden table with two broken chairs around it. A hot pot sat on the floor in the corner, and there was a blue couch by the wall with a huge hole torn into the back of it. Slowly, Darcy’s eyes shifted to the right. I started to turn, just as Steven Nell emerged from behind the open door. He grabbed Darcy’s arm and yanked her out of my grasp, flinging her outside like a rag doll. She was still screaming when the door slammed in her face.

And suddenly I was alone with my worst nightmare.

“Hello, Rory,” he said, a thin smile creeping across his lips. “I knew you’d come to me.”

He tipped his head to the side, looking me up and down with a covetous, hungry expression. All at once I wanted to rush him, wanted to tackle him, wanted to pummel him into oblivion.

“I was going to have your sister, but then I thought that wouldn’t be fair to either of us,” he said, making my skin crawl. “You were always the one I wanted, Rory. Only you. The unsung star.”

He took a step toward me and reached out his hand. I flinched as he stroked my hair with the back of his fingers.

“Let’s finish what we started, shall we?”

With that, he lunged at me and turned me around, locking his arm around my neck. I was about to scream when an excruciating, piercing, burning pain sliced right through my gut. At that exact moment, Nell screamed and released me, staggering back against the wall and sinking to the ground, but I was in so much pain I was barely aware of him. I doubled over, gagging, coughing, wheezing for air. My hands flew out, but my face still collided with the wood floor. Suddenly, the door flew open, and Darcy’s knees hit the ground next to me.

“Rory? What’s going on? Are you okay?” Darcy was on top of me, shaking me. The pain was so horrible the images in front of me bent and swayed. I turned my face slowly, my nose scraping against the splintery wood planks, and looked toward the wall.

Steven Nell was writhing on the floor as well. Screaming. Begging for mercy.

“What is it?” Darcy asked me desperately. “What’s wrong?”

I coughed and closed my eyes. I just wanted it to stop. I just wanted the pain to stop.

And then, Darcy was gone. I heard her screeching, but someone had pulled her away. A hand touched the back of my neck, and a warm, comforting hum filled my body. Slowly, the pain began to subside. It cooled to a dull throb. I tried for a breath, and sweet oxygen filled my lungs.

“It’s okay,” Tristan whispered in my ear. “You’re okay. Everything’s going to be fine.”

I opened my eyes. The world slowly slipped back into focus. Carefully, I sat up, Tristan’s fingers still cupping the back of my neck. He sat down in front of me, our legs crooked to the side, and looked me in the eye.

“Breathe,” he said. “Breathe.”

So I did. Over his shoulder, I saw Kevin and Fisher dragging Steven Nell off the ground as he squirmed and screamed between them. Together, they moved for the door, but Nell staggered sideways, his knees giving way as he spit and sobbed and flailed. Somehow they managed to get him outside. Managed to drag him away.

“Look at me,” Tristan ordered. “Rory. Look at me.”

I did as I was told. I looked into Tristan’s eyes.

“You’re ready,” he said, breathless. “You’re ready now.”

“Ready for what?”

But even as I said the words, it was happening again. A pinprick of emptiness began inside my chest and widened, widened, widened to engulf me. I reached out and clung to Tristan’s arms as I felt myself start to slide backward, start to lose gravity and form, start to slip. Panic took hold of my every pore, squeezing out the air, blacking out the sky overhead.

But no, that was just the fog. Just the fog closing in.

“Look at me, Rory,” he said firmly. “Trust me.”

His eyes were so blue. The color so real, so true, so beautiful.

“I can’t, Tristan,” I heard myself whimper, squeezing my eyes closed.

“Yes, you can. It’s time,” he told me, holding on to me. “You can do it, Rory. It’s okay. Just. Let. Go.”

I took a deep breath and let it out. Suddenly, images came rushing in on me. My mother pushing me on the swing in our backyard. My dad blowing out birthday candles in our old kitchen, before Mom remodeled it. Darcy laughing at me over her shoulder as I chased her in a game of tag. The turtle I’d had for three weeks in fifth grade. The first science award I’d ever won, being hung around my neck. My mother in bed, so fragile and small, squeezing my hand and saying good-bye. Taking third place at regionals last year. Winning the ribbon at the science fair and Samir’s grouchy face as he looked on. Christopher kissing me in his bedroom. Steven Nell grabbing me in the woods. Messenger telling us we had to go.

And then my father splayed out on the road. Darcy’s head bashed in. The blood, the tears, the scream. The slice of a knife.

I opened my eyes, and the world slammed into focus. Tristan’s fingers were tight around my arms, his eyes locked on mine, the fog growing thicker around us. And just like that I understood.

“Rory?” Darcy called out, breaking away from Joaquin. She fell on the floor next to me and grabbed my hand. “Are you okay?”

I cleared my throat, still looking at Tristan. There were tears in his eyes as he studied my face.

Darcy hugged me, breaking off the contact between me and Tristan, and I hugged her back as hard as I possibly could, not wanting to ever let go.

Outside, Steven Nell shouted one continuous, keening wail, as Kevin and Fisher lifted him like a rag doll and tossed him into the back of Joaquin’s truck with a bang. Tristan rose to his feet. He helped me up, and Darcy supported my right side as together the three of us walked outside. Krista hovered near the door of the cabin with Joaquin and Lauren while Nell banged around in the bed of the truck, making enough noise to wake the dead.

“Take him,” Tristan said to Krista.

She nodded, jogged over to the truck, and got in behind the wheel, alone. The guys stood back as she slammed the transmission into gear with authority and took off toward the bridge, kicking up sand as she went. The truck was about half a mile away when the fog suddenly enveloped the taillights, and abruptly, the screaming stopped.

It was still dark out when we arrived back at the house. My senses were heightened. I felt every thud of my heart. Smelled each note of the flowery air. Everything looked different to me. The ocean water was too perfect. The flowering trees seemed fake. It was all like something off a movie set.

“I’m too wired to sleep,” Darcy said as we approached the front door. “Let’s go out back.”

We walked around the side of the house and up to the deck, where we sat for a long time, watching the waves roll onto shore. With every crash of the surf, my heart felt heavier and heavier. I had ten million questions, but there was no one here to ask.

“I’m so sorry,” Darcy said suddenly.

“For what?” I asked. She had nothing to be sorry for. If I had my way, she’d never feel bad about anything ever again.

“For not believing you. For fighting with you. For being such a bitch these last few months,” she said, looking down at the dirt under her fingernails. “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Christopher’s the jerk.”

She laughed bitterly and sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. There was a streak of mud on her face, and her hair was a mess of tangles.

I’d never thought of it that way, but he kind of was. No matter how much I liked him, no matter how much he liked me, what kind of guy broke up with a girl then kissed her sister that afternoon? I turned and looked at her. “You’re right.”

Darcy and I both laughed. “Too bad we can’t call him up and tell him,” she said, hugging her knees to her chest and resting her chin atop one. “Maybe when we get home.”

My heart thumped, and tears filled my eyes. I looked away, toward the water, not wanting her to see.

“I’m sorry I kissed him,” I said, biting my lip. “I’m sorry I took that stupid shortcut and got us sent here.”

I squeezed my eyes shut against a flood of emotion and pressed the tears back.

“Rory,” Darcy said firmly, reaching for my hand, “it’s not your fault that psycho attacked you. You know that, right?”

I nodded, unable to form a word.

“And you know what? Aside from the terrifying kidnapping by a serial killer, I kind of like it here,” she added.

I swallowed back the ball that had formed in my throat and nodded. “Yeah, Juniper Landing is okay.”

Darcy yawned hugely and stretched her arms over her head. “I’m starting to crash. I think I’ll go take a shower and go to bed.”

“Maybe you should wake up Dad first and tell him you’re okay,” I said.

“Good point,” Darcy said with a laugh, shaking her head. She started to go but paused near the door. “What do you think the cops will do with Mr. Nell? Do they even have a jail on this island?”

Probably not, I thought. I looked at her, feeling conflicted. It was almost sad, how she knew nothing. But I also envied her.

“I’m sure they’ll turn him right over to the FBI,” I said.

She nodded, accepting this. “Good. Then his ass will be out of here for good.”

“Yep. I think that’s the idea.”

“Good night, Rory,” she said.

“Good night.”

Then she turned and walked inside. I sat back on the cushions and stared across the endless ocean. When I was little, I used to watch the waves and imagine I could see all the way across to the foreign lands on the other side of the world. I’d imagine visiting all these exotic places one day and standing on their beaches staring back at the spot where I’d once stood. Now I wondered what was actually out there. Did it go on forever, or did it end somewhere? I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the breeze and hugged myself as tight as I could.

“Rory?”

I whirled around, nearly jumping out of my skin. Aaron was tiptoeing around the side of the house, looking up at the deck.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, leaping to my feet. “It’s three o’clock in the morning!”

“I know!” he said, looking up. “I couldn’t sleep. Did you find your sister?”

My heart thumped extra hard. He was so sweet, unable to sleep because of me. Such a good person. A person who didn’t deserve this. I felt a fresh wave of tears and shook my head at myself. Was everything going to make me cry from here on out?

“Yeah. She’s back,” I said simply.

His smile nearly broke my heart. “That’s great! Can I come up?”

Part of me wanted to say yes. Wanted to hang out with him and chat and feel that sort of comfortable, safe, uncomplicated feeling I had when I was around him. But I couldn’t just hang out. Not now. Not when I was feeling so raw.

“I’m really tired, actually,” I told him. “I think I’m just going to go to bed.”

Aaron had already made a move for the stairs and stopped in his tracks. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I told him.

Hopefully, I thought.

“But thanks,” I added. “For coming to check on me.”

“Anytime,” he said with a smile. “That’s what friends are for.”

He lifted his hand in a wave, then turned and walked back toward the street. I watched him until he dipped out of sight, morosely wondering if I’d ever see him again. Wondering if by tomorrow Darcy would have forgotten who he was.