Page 108 of What Happens at Nightfall

They used to hold hands. She used to snuggle into her mother and watch movies. Jess wasn’t sure when it had stopped or why.

“We had a lot of good times,” Jess said awkwardly. “My friends got casseroles but they didn’t go beachcombing and make collages with found objects. And their mothers never let them stay up to watch the Late Late Movie.”

Her mother smiled at her. “With popcorn with real butter. You were always very insistent that it had to be real butter.”

“Kimmy’s family only had margarine.” Kimmy’s mother had been the local pediatrician and was very big on low fat. “Having real butter made me feel superior. It was one of my few advantages.”

Her mother looked stricken. “I didn’t know you felt that deprived.”

“I didn’t feel deprived,” Jess said hastily. There had always been enough to eat and shoes on her feet. “Just—different.”

“I wanted you to feel free and unconstrained by society’s demands. I’d always felt like Pop was trying to put me into a box I didn’t want to be in. I didn’t want that for you.” Jess’s mother looked absently at the millefiori hanging around her neck, turning it so it caught the light. “I guess we all screw up our children in different ways. At least the way I screwed you up meant you always did your homework on time and you checked all the burners and locks before you went to bed at night.”

“You knew about that?” Jess had always been convinced that she was the sole bulwark standing between them and robbery or immolation.

“Yes,” said her mother apologetically. “But you seemed to get such satisfaction out of it, I didn’t want to ruin it for you.”

“Huh,” said Jess.

They speed walked from the station to the cemetery, Jess’s steps getting faster the closer they got, a sense of urgency propelling her forward. The parrots swooped and cawed overhead, diving toward Jess and then away again, almost as though they were trying to herd her.

“Did that parrot just say ‘avast’?” asked her mother, as they paused for the light.

Wordless anxiety rose in Jess’s throat. “Hurry,” she said.

There were people lined up to get in, even though Nightfall had begun nearly an hour ago. Thousands of visitors, Adam had said. Jess ignored the line and charged straight forward, tugging her mother behind her.

“We’re with Adam Chervinsky,” she told the guard checking people in. “Jess Waters and guest. He’s expecting me.”

She didn’t wait for him to check the list. She just kept going. The great Gothic gate loomed overhead, garishly lit with red light, the sky purple behind it.

Overhead, the parrots urged them forward, “Avast, avast!”

Jess was running now, ignoring the person trying to hand her a map, the maddening groups of dawdling visitors oohing and aahing over someone doing gymnastics on a pole. There was a line for a tent, with refreshments, and candlelit paths leading in various directions, some more populated than others.

Jess swerved left, away from the herd of people heading toward the brightly illuminated chapel.

“This way,” she told her mother.

The Brooklyn Theater Fire monument loomed ahead of them. Jess stopped short as she saw a familiar figure standing at the base of the obelisk. Her bustle faded into the darkness. Her face was hidden beneath a hat and veil.

Of course. Of course she would be waiting for them by the theater monument. For a moment, Jess could hear the flames and smell the smoke.

“Cornelia?” Jess breathed.

“Um, no.” The heavy skirts made an entirely non-spectral swishing noise. One black-gloved hand raised a veil and there was Ingrid, in her steampunk getup.

“Who’s Cornelia?” asked her mother.

“I’ll tell you later.” Jess turned back to Ingrid. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here as a guide. They thought it would be cute to have guides in period costume to keep people from wandering off the paths. Would you like a map?” Ingrid proffered a shiny, folded sheet with one gloved hand.

Jess wafted aside the map. “Have you seen Adam?”

Ingrid pointed with her parasol, making the jet jingle. “You mean that guy?”

He was talking to a group of visitors, showing them something on his phone. A picture of Ben, Jess realized, her heart clenching. They were shaking their heads. No. They hadn’t seen him.