“What are you doing in here?”
“I went for a little swim, but the water’s too choppy now. I was waiting to see if it would go down.”
“You went for a swim in your clothes?” I asked, because Peter was wearing jeans and a dark T-shirt and even a pair of sneakers, all sopping wet now.
“I figured—I was already soaked,” he said lightly. “Why not?”
It actually made sense; what little time I’d spent in the storm since I’d changed my clothes had left me as dripping wet as Peter.
“And your parents? Are they okay? The water’s getting high.”
“They’re fine,” he replied, gesturing vaguely. “They found higher ground.” Then he looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time. “What brings you over here, Georgie?”
“Peter, I wanted to ask you about the night of the Fowl Fair. Did you talk to my sister? Do you know where she went?”
“Has she said something?” he asked.
“Not really. She’s... waiting out the storm,” I said, because there was some edge to his voice, something that told me to choose my words carefully.
“I miss her,” he admitted, and his face softened a little, and whatever strangeness I’d sensed in him just a moment agovanished. He was Peter again. Peter the jack-of-all-trades. Peter the shy and quiet and in-love-with-my-sister boy.
“Do you know anything about that night?” I asked.
“Of course I do. But I love your sister, Georgina. I was trying to protect her.”
“Protect her? From what?” My heart felt like someone held it in their hand, like someone was squeezing it tighter and tighter.
“Georgina,” he said slowly. “Isn’t it obvious?” He paused to rub at his eyes with wet hands. Then he looked at me again. “Mary killed Annabella.”
And (oh timing, oh you silly, silly timing) the roof of the barn gave in under the weight of the rain.
Prue screamed as a piece of roofbeam, soggy and bloated with rain, came crashing down on the boat. The loft collapsed underneath Peter and he went plunging into the black water. I heard Vira shouting for a life preserver and before I could react, Harrison found one and threw it over the edge to Peter, who was struggling to stay afloat in water now riddled with debris. A massive piece of roof came plummeting down from the ceiling; I felt something crash into me, and the next thing I knew, Vira was on top of me, her face inches from mine.
“Did you just save my life?” I asked shakily.
“Thank me later,” she said, scrambling to her feet and hoisting me up.
Peter was too far away to reach the life preserver; Harrison was struggling to pull it back into the boat so he could throw it farther. I grabbed the end of the rope and we pulled together, heaving as the boat pitched back and forth and sent us stumbling, more than once, to our knees.
Vira got behind the wheel again and the boat stuttered forward, dangerously close now to Peter, who flailed in the water and kept disappearing for longer and longer periods of time, getting weaker and weaker.
Harrison and I finally managed to haul the life preserver onto the boat, and he yelled back at Vira—“Hold her steady!”—before he grabbed it and dove headfirst into the water.
“Harrison!” Prue screamed from the back of the boat. She picked her way across bits of roof and beam that had landed on the boat, finally reaching me and half flinging herself over the railing. “Harrison!”
I grabbed on to the back of her lifejacket so she wouldn’t pitch over the side, and we both searched the water for Harrison, who was paddling toward where Peter was struggling to stay afloat. When he reached him, Harrison slipped the life preserver over Peter’s body and then used the rope to start pulling them back to the ship.
“In the stern!” Vira shouted over the rain. “There’s a ladder in the stern!”
“Go around, Harrison!” Prue said, pointing frantically. She ran toward the back of the boat and made sure theladder was extended. Harrison and Peter reached it after a moment and then they were on the deck, breathing heavily, Peter leaning over the side and retching water.
After a few more harrowing moments of navigating backward out of the barn, we were safe.
Well.Safewas relative.
I gave Peter a life jacket—he seemed shaken, but mostly unharmed—and Harrison found a compass in (of course) the pocket of his trench coat. We made our way slowly south, through squall-like winds and rain that came in sideways, soaking every part of my body, soaking even theinsideof my body.
I wanted to grab Peter, shake him, ask him what he meant when he said that Mary killed Annabella, but I made myself take a deep breath and give him a minute to recover. Besides—my sister told me she hadn’t done it. The Ouija board itself had said it was anevil man. I had to trust my sister.
