Only they won’t be found.
One more mystery in a long line of mysteries to plague our town.
I think about them often—the way they died, the way they were pulled into the water. Is this what happened to my mother?
I can’t stop replaying it.
The clock exploding.
The rowboat, spinning across the pond.
I keep having dreams—the same recurring nightmare I had when I was eight playing in reverse. Clara Green, reappearing in pixels.
She came back for me.
This, I know.
My mother came back and for five long years, she was held against her will. Right here, in Foggy Hollow. On the other side of the veil.
I found her.
I lost her.
And I was scarred in the process.
The gash on my palm.
The marks on my wrist.
Jude has his own.
So do Twig and Naomi and every other person Simon tried to sacrifice around that pond.
They can’t see them, though.
That ability belongs only to me and Jude.
Nobody can feel them, either.
The marks have gone dormant. They haven’t glowed or burned—not so much as even a twinge since I woke up in the hospital. I’ve pressed my finger against them on more than one occasion to see if the air might crackle, but nothing ever happens.
I try to convince myself that this is a good thing.
There are monsters in the Overlay.
Real live demons on the other side.
It’s probably best to keep them where they belong.
There is one mark that went away, however. One mark I will be happy to never see again.
The curling veins of darkness on Jude’s chest.
The ruby amulet shattered, liberating my love and his life, allowing me to touch him without worry or fear.
It’s a freedom I don’t think I’ll ever get over.
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