“In the library?”
He inclines his head.
“Doing what?”
“Seeking closure, if I had to guess. It was Simon’s favorite room. I got the impression she wanted privacy, so I gave it to her.”
My attention slides to the room in question. “Do you mind?”
He gestures for me to go ahead, then extends the same courtesy he extended to my mother five years ago.
Privacy.
Silence hangs heavy in the room. I look around at the towering book shelves, the commanding portrait of Amos and Ida Vandenberg hanging above the fireplace, the gothic frescoes painted onthe ceiling. I try to imagine my mother, sitting in one of the upholstered armchairs, right here, in this vast space, while twelve-year-old me stood beside Twig, peeking through the iron bars of the front gate.
“Why did you come here?” I whisper.
She was dreaming of Simon.
And now, I’m dreaming of her.
I think about season two, episode eleven of the podcast.Pinch Me, I’m Dreaming. Twig and I did a whole episode on the sleepy phenomenon, with a special shout out toNightmare on Elm Street. All before I realized I was having supernatural dreams of my own, about Vandenberg tragedies of the past. Proof that dreams are as mysterious as this town.
“Did you send me that creature?” I ask.
Is she still alive?
Is Simon, too?
And what does it have to do with Lainey?
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
The message is from Jude.
Twig just told me about Griffin.
18
NOBODY IS SAFE
Dreary sunlight spills through stained glass and falls upon the flower arrangements surrounding a closed casket. Organ music fills the sanctuary. Ivy’s parents stand near the altar, accepting condolences and receiving hugs while their surviving child hides behind them.
After today, the town will move on. The news cycle will come to an end. And the adults will have closure. There’s no danger in Foggy Hollow, at least no more than any other town with teenagers who throw parties and make poor choices. Ivy Winslow has been accounted for, and while the accounting wasn’t what anyone hoped, it at least brings a tidy, if not tragic end.
But it’s all a farce.
Foggy Hollow isn’t any other town.
Thereisdanger.
An entire dimension full of it.
I stand in the back of the long line next to Twig, who is officially boot free, and Jude, who flew home as soon as Twig spilled the beans about Lainey and Griffin. The shadows under his eyes make me wonder whether he slept at all in Seattle. I tried asking him about his grandfather, but he was vague and much more interested in everything happening here.
I am, too, truth be told.
In fact, I can think of little else.
