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  “Odd time of year for a hurricane, isn’t it?” Selma said to her brother.

  “Yes. Very odd,” he replied.

  They narrowed their eyes at us but moved slowly and surely out into the rain.

  “I really don’t like those two,” Lauren grumbled behind me.

  “Join the club.”

  Krista shoved open the door to the mayor’s office and stood back to let us in. Joaquin and I were the first inside. The mayor was busy shoving papers into a canvas bag. She looked up as we entered, startled, and dropped the bag to the ground at her feet.

  “Do you knock?” she snapped, going red around the collar.

  “Sorry,” Joaquin said sarcastically, raising his hands. “Krista said you were losing it, so we came.”

  “Did she?” The mayor eyed Krista shrewdly.

  “Joaquin!” Krista whispered.

  I eyed the canvas bag as the others filed into the room behind me. The mayor kicked it farther under her heavy oak desk until it was out of sight. With one tug on her suit jacket, she was back to form. She eyed each of us as we stood in a long line in front of her. Finally, Krista closed the door and joined us, crossing in front of everyone else to come stand by Joaquin and me.

  “Where are we with the search for Tristan and Nadia?” the mayor asked.

  The wind whipped the tall grasses outside the window as three black crows swooped toward the rocks cawing and cackling wildly. Every soul who had been up at the bridge with us turned to eye Joaquin and me. My heart throbbed inside my temples as I felt that cold finger run down my neck one more time.

  Joaquin cleared his throat. “I think we can safely say we’ve looked everywhere.”

  A collective breath seemed to be released in the room. Apparently no one wanted us to admit what we’d done. Suddenly one of the crows landed on the porch railing behind the mayor. It turned its head in that awful, robotic way and seemed to focus its glinting black-eyed gaze on me.

  “And you haven’t found them? How is that possible?” the mayor demanded, slamming a hand down on her desk.

  Everyone flinched. Another crow landed next to the first, its wings flapping noisily.

  “They must be on the move, ma’am,” Fisher said in that deep, authoritative voice of his. “Staying one step ahead of us.”

  “If anyone could do that, it’s Tristan,” Kevin put in, picking at his nails.

  “I just wish she’d said something to me,” Cori said quietly, looking at the floor so that her braids fell forward over her cheeks. The third crow cawed and came to perch next to its friends. “I wish I knew what she was thinking.”

  “It’s a good question,” the mayor said, slamming closed a heavy leather ledger atop her desk. The sound startled the birds, and they whooshed away, bleating angrily as they disappeared into the clouds. “What is Tristan thinking? What’s his endgame?”

  I stared at the book beneath her skinny fingers. Suddenly my whole body was on fire with clarity. “I know how we can find out what he’s thinking,” I said. “Or at least, what he was thinking before he ran.”

  The mayor’s face screwed up in consternation. “How?”

  “His journals.”

  I watch the never-ending line of visitors as they make their way, bleary eyed and clueless, down the hill toward town. The captives have been released, which means each and every one of those fresh, new visitors is now free to roam the island—to roam right into my waiting clutches. How, oh, how will I decide who my next victims will be? It feels good, having the freedom to choose. It won’t be long now before the deed is done and I can reap my rewards.

  It’s not as if the watchdogs can stop me. Not a chance. I’m unstoppable. I’ve got pure evil on my side.

  Now that I’ve touched her, I know everything about her, and still I can’t stay away. The feelings I have when I’m with her terrify me. I promised myself I wouldn’t let this happen again. Not with a visitor or a Lifer. But Rory is different from anyone who has crossed my path in a hundred years. I know it’s bad for me, bad for her, bad for everyone, but I can’t stay away. I keep going to the house on Magnolia to keep watch, to just sit and stare with the mere hope of glimpsing her. The pain when I’m not near her, the anticipation of seeing her again, of hearing her voice, of seeing her smile…it’s unbearable.

  I slammed the journal shut and tried to stop the tears before they spilled over. The last thing I wanted to do was to cry for him, for us, for what I’d thought we were going to be. I turned my face toward the window of his bedroom, pressing my eyes closed as tightly as I could and biting down hard on my lip. I hated him. I hated him for doing this to me, to my family, to everyone he’d known and loved and cared about for centuries.

  A knock sounded on the open door. I quickly swiped at the wetness under my eyes and turned around. Joaquin stood framed by the doorway. Strewn around me were dozens of journals, some lying open, some piled in stacks. The coverlet on Tristan’s bed was twisted from the many times I’d changed position over the last few hours as the other Lifers had slowly put their books aside and melted away, tired of reading, hungry for dinner, or just plain unconvinced that this plan of mine would come to anything. I’d been alone and brooding for most of the afternoon.

  And now Joaquin was looking at me with pity in his eyes.

  “I think it’s time to take a break.”

  I pushed myself up against the pillows, sniffling. “I can’t,” I said shakily, grabbing another book. “There’s something in here. I know it. And I can’t stop until I find a way to save Darcy and my dad.”

  “Rory,” he said.

  “Joaquin,” I shot back, glaring at him.

  He took a deep breath and crossed his arms over his chest. “There’s something I want to show you. Something I’ve never shown anyone before.”

  I slammed the latest journal closed. “You’re not going to give up, are you?”

  “Have I ever?” he asked, cocking one eyebrow. “Come on, I know you’re at least a little curious.”

  I said nothing. Just stared.

  “Come on.” He let his hands slap down against his legs. “Your eyes are practically crossed. You haven’t eaten since this morning, if then. You’re not going to help your dad and Darcy any if you can’t think straight. Take a little break.”

  I heaved a sigh. He was right, of course. My brain was foggy, my eyes were dry, and my stomach was one big, empty knot. Back home I was always the one carefully carbo-loading before a big race, getting plenty of rest the night before an exam. I knew what my body could and couldn’t handle, and if I was being honest with myself, it couldn’t handle much more of this without giving out.

  And in a strange way, it was nice to know that he cared about me. Joaquin had never let me down. He cared about me. And that meant something. It meant a lot, actually.

  “Fine,” I said as I swung my legs over the side of the bed. “But then we’re coming right back here. I’m close to something. I can feel it.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said with a slow smile, his hand grazing the small of my back as I slipped by him. “This won’t take long.”

  “If you’re bringing me up here to kill me, I’m going to be really pissed off,” I said, pressing one hand on the flimsy wall beside me as the tower above the library swayed in the wind. I swore under my breath as the entire thing leaned to the left. Overhead, the huge, two-ton bell creaked ominously on its hinges.

  “Rory, you keep forgetting,” Joaquin said from the winding stairs just below me.

  “I know, I know. We can’t die,” I said through my teeth. “But you’d think that would negate this serious need I have to murder you right now.”

  Joaquin laughed, and even with all the vertigo, the sound warmed my heart. “Just keep going. You’re almost there.”

  I held my breath and climbed the last five rickety steps to the very top of the
bell tower. Tall arched windows looked out in every direction over the island, and a two-foot-wide plank walkway circled the opening under the bell, which stretched down the ten stories to the floor of the building far below. My heart pounded from the climb, from the height, and from the whistling wind that seemed to blast through every one of those windows at once. I gripped the brick casing on the nearest opening and braced myself, trying to release the fear.

  “What’re we doing up here?” I asked finally. I eyed the bronze bell as it swayed, thinking of the last time it had rung.

  A quick flutter of guilt flashed in Joaquin’s eyes, but then it was gone. He walked to an east-facing window and sat down. “We’re taking a break,” he said matter-of-factly. “This is where I come when I want to get away from everything. Check it out. You can see every bit of the island from up here.”

  I took a deep breath and looked out the north-facing window next to me. Sure enough I saw the bridge off in the distance, the cliffs from which my Lifer friends had jumped on the night they wanted to prove we couldn’t die, and several beams of light bobbing around on the northeast shore. A search party. They were still looking. Always looking.

  “Cool, right?” Joaquin said.

  “Yeah.”

  I sat down next to him and our knees touched. I didn’t pull away, like I would have a week ago. There was something comforting about being this close to Joaquin. And at the same time something daring. I looked up into his eyes, and he stared straight back into mine until I blushed. Then we both smiled and looked out the nearest window. My knee was on fire. Never in my life had I ever thought I would be so focused on my knee.

  “It’s the highest point in Juniper Landing.” Joaquin leaned toward me, bracing one hand beside my hip and pointing past my shoulder. I felt his arm graze my neck, and his breath tickled my skin. “Look.”

  I turned my head, my heart pitter-pattering crazily, and spotted the mayor’s house. Sure enough, we were higher than its tallest point—the weather vane, which was still pointed south.

  “I know it’s hard to believe, but this is usually a nice place to live,” Joaquin said quietly. “It’s all sun and surfing and swimming during the day, then music and partying and hanging out at night. It’s peaceful, usually. Zen.”

  I looked up at him, wanting to believe it. Willing, in that moment, to believe anything he said.

  “Just…not since you’ve been here,” he said.

  I snorted a laugh. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I’d go back and have you not come here.” He shifted and laid his arm lightly across my shoulders. Suddenly I felt a few things acutely. The breeze brushing a lock of hair against my cheek. The warmth of his skin against mine. The grain of the wood planks beneath my fingertips.

  “So you’re happy that I’m dead?” I joked, trying to lighten the moment.

  He caught my hand. He wasn’t going to let me make a game of this. “Yeah,” he said. “I kind of am.”

  My heart thumped as he leaned toward me. Alarm bells went off in my head and throughout my body. This was Joaquin. Tristan’s best friend. Darcy’s former crush. He wasn’t really going to—

  And then he was. His lips touched mine, and he slipped his hand down my back, pulling me closer to him. I could do nothing but respond to his kiss. Suddenly I wanted to do nothing but respond to his kiss. And for minute upon blissful, endless minute, that’s exactly what I did.

  Until finally, unfortunately, he pulled away.

  Joaquin stared into my eyes. I searched his, trying to find a name for what I was feeling. Trying to understand what this was, what it meant. What the hell were we doing?

  Then, ever so slowly, he smiled, and I realized I didn’t care. What mattered was that this felt right. It felt good to be with Joaquin, his arm now around my back, his comforting, musky scent enveloping me. I leaned contentedly into the crook of his shoulder.

  “Look,” he whispered, kissing the top of my head. “You can even see your house from here.”

  I tilted my head half an inch. Out on the ocean, three surfers in black rash guards bobbed on the choppy whitecaps. I wondered whether they were Liam, Lalani, and Nick, making good on their date with the waves.

  “No. There.”

  Joaquin gently turned my chin, and sure enough, there it was. Past the quaint, rain-slicked shops of downtown and the colorful trim of the Victorian houses on Freesia Lane stood the pretty little yellow house on Magnolia. It was so bright and cheerful against the miles of grayness it seemed as if nothing bad could ever happen under its roof. There were the upper eaves under which my wide bedroom sat, and there was Darcy’s window, and there was the house across the street where Tristan used to sit and keep watch for the girl whose heart he was planning to break. The girl he simply couldn’t stay away from.

  My pulse stopped racing. I felt as if I’d just tripped and landed in one of the deeper puddles marring the park. The girl he couldn’t stay away from.

  Suddenly I was on my feet. The journal. He’d said that it was too painful to be gone from my side for even a minute. And the other day, I’d thought I’d seen a light but brushed it off as a trick—as distant lightning in the sky. Could it be that simple?

  “What?” Joaquin asked, staring up at me.

  “When was the last time anyone searched Magnolia?” I asked.

  He lifted his shoulders, the light dying from his eyes. He didn’t want to leave this place yet. He wanted to be with me. And he could tell I was about to run. “I don’t know. Last night? A couple of days ago? Why?”

  “I have an idea,” I said, trying to ignore the pang in my heart. Trying to focus on the positive. “I think I know where Tristan is.”

  “Park here,” I said as Joaquin turned Tristan’s Range Rover up Magnolia Street. We had borrowed it from the mayor’s house because we would need the backseat if we found Tristan and Nadia, and Joaquin’s pickup had only the cab. I didn’t know whether it was poetic or plain cruel that Tristan would be brought to justice in his own car. Joaquin hit the brakes, and they squealed. “We don’t want them to see us coming.”

  “Good call.” Joaquin shoved the gearshift into park. His fingers balled into fists atop his thighs. I knew the feeling. The tension in the air was so tight I felt like if I moved, the whole world would shatter. If I was right, we were about to find Tristan. I had to believe it. My hope was the only thing I had left.

  Bea pulled her Jeep up behind us, and her headlights momentarily filled the SUV before she doused them. Night was starting to fall, but with no sign of the sun, evening didn’t look much different from day. Everything was just a darker, murkier shade of gray. I glanced in the side mirror as the doors of the Jeep opened with a muted pop. Five hooded figures piled out and flanked our car.

  I rolled down my window as Joaquin did the same. Raindrops slipped along the inside of the car door. Fisher, Kevin, and Cori were on my side, Bea and Lauren on Joaquin’s.

  “You really think he’s in there?” Fisher asked, gazing off toward the house in question.

  “I refuse to believe it,” Lauren said, her lips pinched. “The searches have been so organized. There’s no way he could have been hiding right under our noses all this time.”

  “Not all this time, but maybe in the last day,” I said. “At least, that’s what I’m hoping.”

  “Let’s get this over with.” Kevin cracked every one of his knuckles, one by one.

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  I opened my door, forcing Fisher, Kevin, and Cori to step back. As my feet hit the sidewalk, I saw a tall figure approaching us from the bottom of the hill. For a second I thought it might be Liam, but then he looked up and Pete’s pale skin practically glowed from under his hood.

  “What’re you guys doing?” he asked.

  “We’re checking the gray house for Tristan,” Kevin said, putting his arm
around him. “Let’s go.”

  “The more the merrier,” Joaquin said flatly.

  We moved together down the sidewalk. I kept one eye on the front door as we approached, in case someone tried to make a break for it. We passed by Bea’s house—a tall white colonial about five doors up from our target—and could hear Bea’s insane charge, Tess, screeching from the fourth-floor window. The sound coiled my shoulders, and I looked at Bea. Her face was a freckled mask underneath her black rain hat, the area under her eyes puffy and dark.

  “Don’t even say it.” She sighed and shoved her hands deep into her pockets, hunching away from Tess’s window. We really had to get the dark souls off the island. One more reason to finish this thing.

  Suddenly, the door to the house next to the gray one opened, and out stepped Sebastian and Selma. Everyone on the sidewalk froze. As they walked down the front path toward us, their eyes slid over us like scanners, the movement so in synch and unnatural they could have been twin automatons. It was eerie.

  “What were you doing in there?” Joaquin asked.

  “This is the house we were placed in,” Selma said in her thin, high-pitched voice.

  “They placed you here?” I blurted. “I didn’t know there were any boarding houses on this street.”

  “There are now,” Lauren said under her breath. Now meaning now that we’re so overcrowded.

  The two of them glared at me with their light blue eyes. “There are people here who don’t trust you, you know,” Selma said. “Any of you.”

  “People who are going to want to know what’s really going on,” Sebastian added.

  Then they turned as one and walked away, side by side, their steps perfectly matched.

  “I bet they’re going to meet those people right now,” Kevin said acerbically. “Get them to start asking questions.”

  The theory sent a chill right through me. I remembered far too vividly what Tristan had told me about the last angry mob that had formed on Juniper Landing. It wasn’t something I wanted to experience firsthand.