Page 111 of Some Kind of Haunted

I can see the rock now. It’s illuminated by a few weak lights that I don’t know the source of, but this is no time to worry about light—only its absence. As I get closer, I see that there are two dark figures moving around in the dim light, and these figures I recognize.

Jack and Logan.

I run for them, shout for them, sob a little that I’ve finally found them—but before I can reach them, the path of light abruptly ends.

There is a pit of blackness between me and that rock now. And shadows thick with slithery demon shapes between me and it. If I step into those shadows, I know Harrison can keep me immobile again. Maybe even kill me, here in front of Jack and Logan, to hurt them, too.

But he can’t have my voluntary blood if I don’t give it. I hold on to that, just like Amelia and Cleo must have.

Jack and Logan turn as I shout, then are suddenly wearing nearly identical scowls—with some panic behind them.

I remember the blood on my face, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.

“I’m fine!” I call to them, pointing at my face.

That only makes them look at each other, then scowl harder, and that nearly makes me cry. My two favorite men, on the same page at last.

We can’t reach each other, but I wasn’t sure I was ever going to see them again, so I take this as a win. A small win that makes the stitch in my side worth it.

“Don’t cross the darkness!” Jack yells at me. “I will.”

“No!” I yell right back. No sacrifices. Not now. There has to be another way.

I refuse to believe that we’ve come this far to come no further. I am the harbinger. The tool for good.

I think of Amelia. I think of my mother, who Jack seemed to suggest just . . . went around saving people, just like him. I think of Cleo, who flew airplanes and cared for her elderly grandmother and acted like living at home with her family was a punk rock privilege, not something to be ashamed of, and probably would have punched me and Logan in the face that first day if it had been up to her.

I think of Nora, who dreams like me, and took my place in that cell. So I could be out here, harbinging.

That had to be for a reason. That means I’m supposed to be here, at this rock. I know it.

If I’m some great herald, I think, in a way that seems to resonate inside me, and out of me, too, then I should have a little more control over what it is I bring forth.

I don’t know who I’m talking to. The void. The universe. The divine within. I’ll take any or all of the above.

There has to be more to who I am than playing Cassandra for twenty-eight years only to get taken out at the last moment. I don’t need the heart-shaped stones. I focus on the one on my chest, and all the love that has made me who I am—

Abruptly, something in front of me starts to brighten.

I look up, searching for its source, half-afraid it will be something gross or wrong—like that bizarre light that somehow wasn’t light at all in the clock tower.

Instead, I see an actual beam of light. Coming from across the river. Coming from the direction of the airport, if the map in my head is right. And it’s like any spotlight I’ve ever seen, but the beam of it goes exactly where I need it to—a path of safe, pure light from me to the rock.

I want to sink to my knees in joy, in relief. I want to thank Virginia, or Cleo’s dad, or Cleo’s spirit—whoever made this miracle happen, but there’s no time.

My body hurts but I ignore it, hurling myself along the path the spotlight makes before me.

And I throw myself into Jack’s arms before I make it to the rock, because he meets me halfway.

Then he’s practically dragging me into the little circle of light they’ve made with lanterns. Jack and I kind of stumble together and end up on the ground, and Logan crouches in front of me.

“Are you okay?” my brother asks. More demands.

I manage to nod at him. I stand up, and Jack comes with me. “Kind of,” I tell Logan.

Jack claims my attention. Meaning he literally takes my face in his hand and turns me toward him. “Where were you? You weren’t supposed to leave. When I went to get you, neither you nor Grandpa were anywhere to be found. What happened? Where’s Grandpa?”

He wants to know what happened. Worse, I have to tell him.