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“Where the hell is Darcy?”
The spell was broken. I glanced at my watch. It was twelve seventeen.
“Could she have gotten lost?” Liam asked.
“She knows where the Thirsty Swan is,” I said, immediately regretting my sarcastic tone. Liam had been here less than a day. He didn’t need me biting his head off for making perfectly acceptable assumptions. “Sorry.”
I got up and walked to the door, peering out the window beside it. Which of course showed me nothing but the side of the next building across the alleyway.
“Maybe she had to stay late,” Joaquin suggested, coming up behind me.
“Or maybe she was attacked by one of our resident criminals.” I reached for my coat.
“Where’re you going?” he asked.
“I’m gonna walk up to the mayor’s,” I said, flipping the still-wet hood up over my hair. “Hopefully I’ll bump into her on the way.”
“I’ll go with you.” He took his jacket down as well and slipped his arms into the sleeves. I started to turn him down but held my tongue. There was no reason to go out there alone.
“You want us to come?” Fisher asked.
“It’s okay. You stay here in case she shows,” Joaquin said, zipping up his jacket. “You can tell Liam a little more about what he’s in for.”
“Great,” Liam said enthusiastically. “Because I have a ton of questions. Starting with Babe Ruth…”
“Hopefully we’ll be right back,” I said. Then I led Joaquin back out into the rain. “Sorry,” I said as we were instantly drenched. “You didn’t get your fifteen minutes of dry.”
“Maybe later,” he replied.
We made our way down the creaking, swaying steps and through the alleyway. The boardwalk that ran along the bay and was fronted by various restaurants and businesses was deserted aside from the Swan, which was full of voices, music, and clinking glasses. We turned the corner and started up the hill toward town, Joaquin walking behind me on the narrow stretch of sidewalk. Every second, I kept hoping Darcy would appear at the top of the hill, and each moment that she didn’t, my pulse started to race a bit faster. Finally, out of breath and scared, we reached the top of the hill.
We were standing at the southwest corner of town, close to the ferry dock. The scent of burned wood still hung in the air. The park at the center of town was empty, and my eyes darted to the suspicious library window. It was dark.
“She isn’t here,” I said.
There was no reply other than the rain pattering against my hood. It was a sound I was getting seriously sick of hearing.
“So we’ll walk up to the clinic,” Joaquin said casually, though his eyes were darting over the town square with concern. “I’m sure she’s there.”
Before the words had completely faded into the air, something in the atmosphere changed. My heart hit my throat as I realized that the fog overhead was moving. Since we hadn’t ushered anyone in days, the fog had become constant, but instead of surrounding us in an endless whiteout, it hung like an ominous and solid cloud two stories above our heads, giving the town the illusion that it had been topped off by a thick blanket of gray cotton candy. But now the mist swirled and withdrew, pulling back over the island like the lid of a huge picnic basket sliding open to reveal the luscious wonders inside. The rain still fell, but the clouds overhead were spotty, and stars shone through in the black sky. I looked across the town and saw rooftops and spires I hadn’t seen in what felt like forever, lights at the tip-tops of buildings, and the bridge far off to the northwest.
“Wow,” I breathed. After days of murky, creepy darkness, nothing had ever seemed so beautiful.
Then Joaquin’s hand clasped my forearm, his fingers contracting into my flesh. “Rory.”
The realization slammed into me like a truck. If the fog was rolling out, someone had been ushered.
“Ohmigod.”
We rushed to the edge of the sidewalk and looked up at the bluff on the far end of the island where the mayor’s house sat overlooking the town. The weather vane atop the highest peak spun wildly on its axis, as if struggling with tornado-force winds. Then, suddenly, it slammed to a stop, the gold swan shivering against the clouds.
My heart dropped into my toes. The vane pointed south.
One hand reached up to cover my lips. Not again. Please not again.
“It’s not done,” Joaquin said.
The vane had started to spin once more, but this time it stopped much quicker. Again, it pointed south, straight and true. Two more souls had been sent to the Shadowlands.
