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“Nerida...I need to hear you vow you won’t come looking for me if something happens.”
“Nothing is going to happen because you’re going to be fine—”
“Promise me, Nerida,” he snapped.
Tears fell faster as I quaked outside my parents’ door. I wished I could teleport to wherever he was. I wished I was magic and could appear at his side and see whatever nightmare he saw.
To fight beside him.
Live beside him.
Die beside him.
My insides didn’t just prickle, they howled.
Messages and energies, knowings and terrors.
I tasted it. Felt it. Breathed it.
Danger.
Peril.
Death.
“Aslan...run. Run as fast as you can.”
“Neri—”
“Run and hide. I’m flying to England tonight, today, right fucking now. I’m flying there, and then I’m coming to get you on the sea. You only have to hide for a little while, Aslan. Just a little while and—”
“It’s too late.” The phone line went quiet as if he’d stopped running, his breathing echoing with tatters. “Fuck, Neri. Fuck!”
“Aslan. Speak to me. What’s happening?” My knees bounced. My bones broke. “Tell me!”
An awful noise.
A cold laugh that wasn’t his.
“I love you, Nerida. I’ll always—”
A soft pop like a champagne cork.
A clatter of noise as if he’d dropped his phone.
My heart roared in my ears as I tumbled against the corridor wall. I pressed my phone excruciatingly hard against my ear. “Aslan? ASLAN?”
The scraping of fingers. The rustle of someone picking up what was dropped. My heart begged for hope. It sat up with false belief that Aslan had just bumped into someone and dropped his phone.
But in some deep, dark horrible place inside me, I knew.
I knew before he said anything.
I knew before I spoke to his father for the very first time.
“Is that Nerida Taylor? The third-year marine bio student who dwells at number eleven Helmet Street, Port Douglas?”
