Page 25 of Find My Way Down to You

Like earlier, Henri’s tone isn’t cruel. Or mocking. He surveys me like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to fit together. Sighing, he tilts his head at Cary. Waving his hand theatrically at the rolling black sea, he says, “If you will.”

Annoyance sparks in Cary’s eyes. At least I’m not the only one he looks at that way. He walks away from us.

Into the water.

The waves slosh against his ankles, up to his calves. My breaths catch in my throat.

Kneeling, Cary plunges one hand in the sea. A second passes before I see light spreading beneath the dark surface. It pools around him. The singing tide quiets as Cary says something, low and soft. Then the water rises higher.

No,herises.

I startle backward. A nearly transparent bridge lifts from the dancing ocean. It stretches all the way to the onyx structure in the distance.

My heart sits plump in my throat. “What the—”

“Show-off!” Henri yells, dimples pronounced by his grin.

Unamused, Cary shakes droplets from his fingers. “Shall we?”

I balk. “I-I’m not,” I stammer, all my nerves lit like wildfire. “I’m not going with you.”

He turns his back to me. “Fine, then stay.”

“Trust me,” Henri says, surprising me by his closeness. His smile isn’t as comforting anymore, but, for some reason, it doesn’t bother me either. “You don’t want to stick around here. There’s good reason to follow him.”

His eyes peer behind me. “Manygood reasons.”

That’s when I hear it.Them.The scratchy chorus of moans and pleas that weren’t there before.

Past the two guards, I see bodies, gray and haunting, shifting up the beach. In our direction. Their blue mouths are cracked open, calling, begging. Wide arms stretched toward us.

“They might be slow,” Henri calls, “but they are determined!”

Prickly coldness rushes up my skin. I don’t wait for another warning. I run onto the bridge.

When I finally catch up, I say, “What are they?”

“Shades,” Henri says, openly, honestly.

Cary gives him a long glare.

I rub my arms, unable to shake off the chill from seeing them. “Are they dead?”

“They aresouls,” Cary corrects. As if I should know that. As if any of this makes sense. Of course, he doesn’t bother offering any explanations.

We follow him across the long bridge. “Careful,” Henri warns in a mock-whisper, “you don’t want to offend the ferrier.”

An indignant frown slides across Cary’s pink mouth.

“What are you, anyway?” I say, too fast to think through my words.

Cary spins around. “Whatam I?” he snaps. “I am not athing, mortal.”

“We,” Henri says in a melodic, cautious voice, “are Deathless.”

“Come again?”

“Deathless,” Henri repeats cheerily while Cary grumbles, “He does not deserve to know.”