19Elle
To See
It’s been over an hour. The perimeter takes minutes to walk, even at the leisurely pace Liney takes. Soon it’ll be time to go upstairs and tend the light. I should check on her. What if Mr. Pratterman shows her another illusion or Mr. Croxton returns? The weather’s cold but clear. Easy crossing.
If I go outside, what if I see someone? Out on the mainland or passing by in one of the last fishing boats of the season? Would I go after them, oar in one hand and knife in the other?
There’s another option I’d rather not consider. Mr. Pratterman specifiedseeingthe next person. I could blindfold myself every time I stepped outside. If I connected to the spiral again, I could feel out my steps with its senses instead of my own. Yet a blindfold can be pulled off.
I’ve been staring at the knife on the counter for half the time Liney’s been gone. Contemplating. How would I explain it to Liney? That I accidentally gouged my eyes out?
I’m still operating within the realm of technicalities. And what if I’veremembered his words wrong? What if he saidsenseorfind? Given the whole of the ship’s passengers weren’t killed, is Liney’s soul still invoked?
I need to find Mr. Pratterman. He said I’d have time before his next visit, but nothing about me finding him first. It was my knocking that brought us together. I could search him out again. I won’t be a simpering girl pleading for help this time.
I could try here, where he’s connected with me before. Yet meeting in his domain could prove harder than a neutral territory. But how would I do that while ensuring I didn’t see another person?
I puzzle over this, relieved to have something to consider that isn’t self-mutilation.
Douglas hasn’t reappeared. I didn’t ask him directly about the girl. I only told him my theory. Did he stay silent because I’m right or because he wants me to think I’m right? He sees the world so simply: Do good. He must not have had siblings.
The front door opens. Liney bursts in, pink-faced and breathing high in her chest. “Elle!”
Musings of knives, eyes, and the Devil’s wording disappear. Is she having an attack? I rush to the entry and help her tear off her coat. She’s trying to say something else, but I’m too focused on finding the problem.
“When did it start?” I ask, “Come to the fire. Let’s warm you and get you back to—”
“Get off me!” Liney twists out of my grasp. She puts her arms out, palms up. Fending me off. “I’m fine.”
What? I slow enough to notice that there is no forest beyond the open door behind her. There is a figure, just out of view.
The sole survivor of the shipwreck walks into my lighthouse. Her traveling cloak ripples in the early-evening breeze. Warm enough to keep her from freezing these past few nights.
Could she still be an illusion? The other girl Liney saw was in theroom, yet I couldn’t see her. Is that the limitation? Both of us seeing her at the same time, her boots tracking in snow, tiny details like the scrunch of her nose and shift of her eyes as she takes in the room—none of it appears false.
This is not the delirium of swallowed salt water and frostbite. Nor is it a folie à deux. She casts a shadow and breathes out puffs of cold air. There’s nothing I can sense of the spiral about her either. She’s flesh and blood, as real as the wood planks she stands on.
Liney found her. And I promised safety to anyone she brought back. Because I have become a sentimental fool who doomed each of us in this room. All to make my sister temporarily happy.
How to react? Aggression could surprise her enough to get the deed done quick as possible, but Liney stands mere feet from me. I’ve never killed in front of her. Made a point not to, in fact. I don’t bring her up to the lightroom. I left her behind before I found Douglas.
The girl is thickset, cherry-cheeked, and smiling in the way I used to with strangers at my parents’ parties. But she must remember me throwing her out. What has Liney told her? My right hand twitches for the knife. It’s so close. The same one I contemplated poking my eyes out with.
I should welcome her. Offer her a seat by the fire and a meal.
“See?” Liney approaches with the girl, who thoughtfully closes the door behind her first. Sealing herself in with me. “Her name is Bridget. She saved me, Elle. Got me out of the water to where you found me.”
I told LineyI’ddragged her out. Has she forgotten, or is she giving me the grace to agree to a different story? It’s been too long; I need to say something.
“Welcome.” It’s wooden, like a young actor unsure of their line.
“She needs to stay here for the night,” Liney continues. “She’s happy to take the couch.”
They’ve been talking for a while, then. Where? How’d sheoutmaneuver me on my own island? Unless it hadn’t wanted me to find her. Should I be grateful to Liney for bringing her? If she isn’t under Mr. Pratterman’s influence, perhaps he doesn’t know her actions. He can check on mine through the spiral’s mutual connection.
I approach Bridget to take her coat and hang it along the wall. She unties the ribbon at the front. I spot something when she hands it to me, so I turn away and pick at it while hanging the hood. At first it appears to be salt, nothing out of place. But the speck, tan instead of white, breaks apart between my fingers.
It’s a crumb of bread. Where did she get that from?
