“I’m sorry,” I tell her now. “I’m sorry for what’s happened to you. You deserved a better life, far away from here. This town destroys everyone eventually. Like it destroyed my sisters and me. We weren’t always this way,” I say, wanting her to understand that I was good once, decent and kind. “But this place destroys hearts and throws them into the sea. We are all at the mercy of that ocean out there—we’ll never escape it.”
We stare at each other, a streak of broken sunlight falling in through the kitchen window, the truth sliding like a crisp winter breeze between us.
“Go back into the water tonight,” she pleads, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Let her have her life back.”
I cross my arms, rubbing my hands down the sleeves of my coat. “But I deserve a life too,” I counter, hardening my gaze on her.
“You’ve already had a life. You’ve had the longest life of anyone. Please.”
I have stolen her daughter, the last thing she has left in this entire world—even her sanity has slipped away from her—but I can’t release this body. It’s my only chance at a real life. Surely she can understand that. Surely she knows what it is to be trapped, to be willing to do anything to escape, to crave normalcy in this tormented, messed-up town. To finally feel settled.
This is my second chance. And I’m not going to let it get away.
“I’m sorry.” I back step through the kitchen, knowing she isn’t strong enough to stop me, and I dart through the doorway into the hall, nearly bumping into a side table, then out the front door.
***
I pause on the front porch, hoping that Rose was wrong. A wall of black clouds has materialized several miles out at sea, dense and wide, laden with rain and maybe lightning.
But still no sign of boats converging toward the island.
I hurry down the porch steps, my heartbeat thudding against my ribs, and I move toward Old Fisherman’s Cottage, where Gigi is still locked up. When I reach the door, I yank the board out of the way and step inside. Gigi’s standing at the window, staring down toward the dock.
“People are coming to the island,” I tell her, breathing heavily. “The summer solstice party is happening here. Olivia invited everyone. You need to stay inside and lock the door.”
“First I was locked in, now you want me to lock you out? This is a very confusing situation for a prisoner.”
“If any of them find you in here...”
“Yeah, yeah,” she interrupts. “They want me dead. I get it.”
“I’m serious.”
She lifts her palms in the air. “You think I want to be hanged or strangled or shot? Trust me, I don’t want them to find me either. I’ll stay put like a good evil sister.”
I tilt my head at her—I don’t find her funny right now—but she smirks. I open the door a crack, letting in a sliver of wind that brushes my dark hair off my shoulders, and I’m about to step back outside when she asks, “Why are you helping me?”
“You’re my sister.” I gulp down the word, knowing that no matter what she and Marguerite have done, they will always be my sisters. “I don’t want you dead... at least not like this.”
She crosses her arms and looks back to the window. “Thank you,” she answers, and then, in a voice that reminds me of Aurora when she was younger, tiny and sweet, “Will you be back before midnight to let me out?”
I nod, meeting her stony blue eyes—like snow under moonlight—sister to sister, letting her know that I won’t abandon her. And I only hope I can keep my promise.
***
Once you’ve experienced death, living never feels quite the same.
The divide between the dark wretched sea and the bright places above the waterline begin to saturate your mind, until all you can think about is clawing your way to the surface, where you’ll suck in deep, choking breaths of air. Feel the sun on your cheekbones. The breeze against your eyelashes. And never suffocate again.
I head straight for Bo’s cottage, open the door, and step inside. But he’s not here.
I start to turn back for the door and then a hand is on my shoulder. I whip around, nearly clocking him in the face. “What’s wrong?” he asks, standing just outside the doorway, recognizing the panic in my eyes.
“They’re coming,” I say.
“Who?”
“Olivia and... everyone.”
