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Willow opens both eyes, and her features relax. "Sure, yeah. What kind of school did you go to where kids don't talk that way?"
"I attended a prestigious boarding school."
"Rich kids don't barf, huh?"
"We need to get moving."
Together, we hike up the mountainside. I still can't determine where we are in the world, other than on a forested mountain. That's so bloody helpful. I hear birds high up in the boughs, and I see a squirrel racing up a tree. This place, wherever it might be, clearly has not been affected by Sefton's apocalypse yet. Will it be spared?
That's doubtful. My brother won't stop until he has destroyed everything except Fallenmouth. Perhaps he will destroy that too once he's finished with the rest of the world.
"How did we get here?" Willow asks. "I fell asleep in my room. But when I woke up, I was here."
"My brother opened a magical portal and flung us to this place, which I assume is the location furthest from where he is."
"Don't you get along with your brother?"
"No." I clench my fists without meaning to as the memory of Sefton storming into the bedroom replays in my mind. "He is the madman who instigated the apocalypse."
"Seriously?"
"Yes."
"Wow, that's harsh. Why did he keep Allison?"
I grumble out a sigh. Are all children so intrusive? "Sefton is obsessed with Allison. She and I are two sides of the triangle my brother needed to create the Echo and instigate the apocalypse. She is the catalyst, I am the anchor."
"That's freaky."
"Yes, it is." At least I understand what the word freaky means. "Do you know what the Echo is?"
"Uh-huh. I heard people talking about it. I guess those monsters like to tell everybody where they came from."
I grunt.
Mercifully, she does not speak while we cross into a less wooded area. I pause for a moment to take in the view, though not because I feel like doing a bit of sightseeing. I'm hoping to find clues to where we are and if there might be settlements nearby. I see nothing, so we continue up the mountain. When we crest its summit, I turn in a circle to inspect the area and perhaps find a place where we can camp for the night. It's still daylight here, though the sun is sinking toward the horizon.
Below us, on the other side of the mountain we've just hiked up, I see a beach stretching out along the coast of an ocean while waves crash on the shore. This mountain range is high, but small compared to the sort they have in the Himalayas or the Andes.
Where are we? Someplace far from England, that's for certain.
"Bloody hell," I grumble. "I have no idea where we've wound up, or how to get back to Allison."
I hadn't meant to say that out loud, but the words poured out anyway.
Willow slips her hand into mine. "It's okay. We'll find her again."
A child is comforting me. And for some reason, I find myself clasping her hand.
"Maybe we should go down there," Willow says. "Might find a town or something if we walk far enough."
The terrain leading down to the beach is steep, which forces us to take it slow. I keep hold of Willow's hand strictly to ensure she won't tumble off a cliff. Allison would not be happy if I let her new mate die in a terrible accident. I donotlike the child. She asks annoying questions and uses bizarre words.
At last, we set foot on the beach. The girl immediately rushes into the waves to get herself soaked by the three-foot swells. She laughs and shrieks, splashing around in the water. Though she waves for me to join her, I do not do that. Maybe I had jumped into the river back in Fort Worth, but that had been different. I don't feel like playing in the swells, not when Allison is trapped at Fallenmouth with my mad brother.
Once Willow has grown tired of splashing and shrieking, we head off down the beach, following the coast with steep mountain slopes on one side and the ocean on the other. I wish I could figure out where we are. I wish I had a weapon too. But most of all, I wish I were with Allison.
We've just rounded a corner into a small cove when movement catches my eye. Someone is walking away from us, apparently not having noticed our presence, and the individual carries an armload of what looks like driftwood. I lay a hand on Willow's arm as we halt to observe the other person. It's a man, I think. But with the deepening sunset and the distance between us, it's hard to tell for certain.
