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“You—” Her voice morphs to a low growl. “You are chained here. We’re all chained here. But you—you’re never getting out. How unfortunate is it to be the one he loves.” Her skin turns hot to touch and I quickly take a step back. Small cracks begin to appear in her skin revealing thin red lines and soon steam coalesces around her body.

“Daisy?” I stumble backward.

“Remember the story of the cove?” Flames begin to crackle beneath her skin.

“Yes. What about it? What is—what is happening to you?” I trip over my words, struggling to comprehend the situation before me.

“All the answers you seek are below.”

Before I can ask further questions, her body disintegrates before me leaving a neat pile of soot before the hearth.

“What a useless specter.”

PART III

There you found yourself, standing on the edge of nothing, of darkness and obscurity. Floods of words, images and boundless time. That in between place of life and death is a delicate existence, tread with caution.

FORTY-SIX

October 26, 2010

The estate is being transformed into a lavish affair and townsfolk from all of Devil’s Bay were invited. And I, unfortunately had to attend as Kieran’s date but not without a plan in place. Tonight would be the night I leave this world behind.

Since the knowledge of Sara Wren’s strife with the ‘owner’ of this house and his wife, I searched and searched, down in the depths of me. This hollow husk of a soul, only to find nothing. I couldn’t remember a time I had ever known the faces of Kieran and Daisy.

I am Marisa and Sara. But Sara lives buried beneath a sea of darkness, with only Marisa surfacing—this was a truth.

Over the last two weeks, I’d revisited the journals countless times, dissecting the words and each ‘entry’. Sara was a lonely woman, whether of her own making or just the way the world passed her by.

Now that I knew the ‘truth’ how did I use it to escape this? It likely lies with the relic.

Grasping at Kieran’s tape of lies, and all that Christian has revealed to me, I can understand that this world needs a ‘life force’ to be the energy for which a person can freely enter and exit. The relic, sustains this ‘moment’ of traversing worlds. It is a medium for which the ‘life force’ is channeled. Judging by the bodies in the chambers, Kieran harvests the already dead souls for their anima, draining them of the only thing that keeps what remains, alive.

Another thing was true, Daisy had killed Sara Wren’s parents. So Kieran’s motives for his experiments don’t make sense. Regardless, I needed to run far away from this world.

Christian remains absent. No visits or lingering beyond the driveway. He was just gone.

Tonight, I make my way toward the kitchen, passing Tania and Winston, finding it difficult not to sneer at their stares. But if what Sara—me—had written had truth to it then this house is mine.

There are three things I still have to untangle: the love triangle that seemed to exist with Kieran and Christian; the wedding of Daisy and Kieran; and my true identity.

Everything started with Christian.

Making my way around the foyer, I sidestep as someone brushes past me. A few workers mill by, seemingly in a hurry, whispering to themselves. Down the hall there’s a tall figure hunched over the kitchen island writing in a book. Time slows as I watch him. He runs a hand through his unruly dark hair, the weariness that haunted his eyes a few weeks ago lifted, leaving him sharper and in a new light. He is still as attractive as ever, even if he’s hiding secrets. I missed him.

I think of the night we spent together and heat rushes through my body. A rhythmic ache stirs in my chest. I could consume him and it wouldn’t be enough.

“You have been wandering in your thoughts all day.” Kieran moves in front of me, blocking the view of Christian. Not who I want to see right now. I peer over his shoulder to the kitchen; Christian is no longer there.

“I find that I like the shadows.” I clear my throat, aware of how closely he stands. Prickles of ice cascade across my skin.

“The nights have been peaceful.” He leans in, his frame eclipsing the warm light. “Right?”

I can’t help the derisive chuckle that leaves my lips. “You’ve been killing those monsters without me, haven’t you? That’s why it’s been so quiet.”

Tilting my head, I meet his sharp gaze. I can’t let him see that I know. He’s a monster. A man who had likely burned his wife alive after slitting her throat. Is that why the fire spread in the East Wing? Could a coroner detect an incised wound if the skin was no longer recognizable?

He chuckles softly in response then says, “we still have to start your self-defense lessons.”