The impromptu road trip sparked by the information Gloria shared is exactly the kind of distraction she needs right now. A distraction that will hopefully overshadow the tangled thoughts she has about Evan and, as a bonus, ease her frustration over her role as this navigator of the in-between, where darkness seems to always be one step ahead.
She doesn’t know how to fix things with Evan right now and she certainly isn’t going to be able to fix the disaster that is the eternal battle between good and evil. But finding Liddy and helping her move on is something she can do.
“And you’ll call Liddy at the harbor?”
“Well, I suppose I can call her anywhere,” Casey explains. “It makes sense for it to be there, though. It’s the place we both died. Gloria said something about the connection being stronger.” She takes the next turn too wide, narrowly missing the median.
“Slow down,” Red pleads again.
“I am slowing down,” she insists, flicking the turn signal.
She pulls into the Stop-n-Shop gas station. Ads for milk and chocolate bars and giant purple Slurpees adorn the window, and red numbers light up to display the lottery winnings and the price of gas. She swings the car around, lining it up with the gas pump.
“So, what’s the plan?” Red says, getting out of the car after her.
“This is the plan,” she says. “Harbor. Liddy. Home.”
She heads inside to pay. A cool blast of air-conditioning greets her at the door and goose bumps bubble up over her arms. Everything smells like flat pop and stale gummy candies. The same bags of sour worms and red gummies shaped like feet have probably been here since Casey was twelve.
The bell above the door rings as it falls closed behind her, but the girl at the counter barely looks up from her magazine. There was a time a few weeks ago when she drew every eye in the room. When everyone had something to say about the accident.
Now, she’s just any other kid coming in for gas and junk food.
Red, though … Red draws her eye as he enters. The girl lets the magazine flip closed. Her eyes lift to take him in, head to toe, and Casey sees the moment she jerks back, just a slight bob of her chin, registering something unexplainable about him, and yet curiously alluring. Someone else enters behind them to pay for gas and Casey tugs Red down an aisle filled with beef jerky and various types of cheese-flavored chips.
She picks up a bag and checks the expiration date, realizing that she’s lost track of the days, of whether it’s a weekend or weekday, if it’s been three days since Red fell or three weeks. Summer is dwindling to a close and real life is rushing toward her faster than she’s prepared for.
Casey stuffs the chip bag into Red’s arms. The bag crackles as he turns it around to read the front.
“What’s this for?”
“I’m hungry,” she says. And anxious and tired and a little afraid, but she doesn’t say those things out loud. He can probably see them in the scrunched look on her face anyway.
“That’s it? Did Gloria say anything else?” Red asks.
Casey pauses in front of the drink cooler. “No.”
Red studies her reflection in the glass. His frosted outline is set on the offense, knuckles on his hips, head bent toward her. Questioning.
Casey tries not to look directly at him as she turns. She also tries not to think about what Gloria had said: that other things could answer the call. Casey’s met those things and she doesn’t care. She’s definitely not telling Red about it and risking him trying to stop her. Nothing is going to stop her from reaching out to Liddy.
Nothing.
“You know, I let someone lose themselves to the darkness once before. I won’t make that mistake again.” He studies her in a way that makes her want to shrink down against the cooler. As it is, she bumps into it, jumping as the cold glass meets her shoulders. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
“No, there isn’t. I just want to get this stuff and go already.” She walks past him, heading for the counter. She snags a couple chocolate bars and a pack of fruity gum from the bins at the front. She dumps it all on the counter. Red tosses up the bag of chips.
“Just this?” the girl asks. She moves to the register, stuffing everything into a plastic bag.
“And gas for pump six,” Casey says. She reaches into her pocket and slides cash across the counter.
The girl spends most of the exchange staring at Red. Casey has half a mind to introduce them, if only to get him off her back. It feels like his eyes are starting to bore a hole into her head.
Casey leans against the plastic lottery ticket cover, waiting for her change.
Suddenly the girl says, “You’re Casey Everett, right?”
“Huh,” she stutters in surprise, straightening up against the counter. “Yeah. Do I know you?”
She shakes her head. “I go to Dal Tech.”
The fine arts college, Casey remembers.
“My younger brother goes to Westwood, though. He’s in your grade.” She pushes her glasses up her nose as they slide down, adjusting the boxy rims. “Kevin McQuin.”
“Oh, right.” Casey tries to pull the image of some lanky-haired, glasses-wearing kid from her Spanish class.
“Anyway, I was sorry to hear about the accident. And Lidia. My brother said she was always nice to him.”
“She was nice to everyone,” Casey says.
“Two dollars and fifty-five cents is your change,” the girl says, sliding the money back across the counter.
“Thanks.”
Red grabs the plastic bag and beats her to the car, but only by a second. Casey pumps the gas quickly and then takes the first road out of town as she links up with the highway.
“Does that happen a lot?” he asks.
“What, the whole being-recognized-because-I-almost-died thing?” Casey says. “It used to. Not so much anymore. Which I honestly thought would comfort me. But now that it’s happening, all I can think about is the fact that Liddy’s old news. Most people have already forgotten. When school starts again, summer will just be a nightmare in the past.”
“But not everyone’s forgotten,” Red says.
She thinks about what he said to her in the store: I let someone lose themselves to the darkness once before.
He’s talking about that girl again. The one he said he once loved.
When she glances at him, he’s bobbing his head along to the hum of the radio and drumming on the door handle. “Can I ask you something?”
“Is it the kind of question that I’ll want to answer?” he asks.
“I don’t know. Maybe not.” She thinks on it longer. “Probably not.”
He throws his head back against the seat, his hair spiraling out. “What is it?”
“The girl,” she begins. Casey flicks the turn signal to change lanes. “You said you loved her. That’s the past tense. If it’s over, why haven’t you gotten your wings back?”
She doesn’t spare him more than a glance, her eyes trained on the road ahead of them. It’s the equivalent of giving him space. Space to think about and process what she’s just asked.
“It’s complicated.”
“Try me. I might understand complicated.”
Red turns toward her and she divides her attention between him and the road. “I didn’t fall out of love, Casey. Our love was forbidden.”
“Why?”
“Because she took Azrael’s deal and became a servant of darkness. And where love between a human and the angelic is frowned upon, love between an angel and darkness … well, it’s forbidden. To pursue that love would mean renouncing my place in the light. It would mean joining that side and I just couldn’t do that.”
“You still care about her.”
“It doesn’t matter. That path is forbidden to me.”
“So you let her go?”
“I had to. And now I must fix my mistakes by earning my place back. Prove that my devotion to the light and humanity outweighs my choice to fall.”
“I don’t think falling in love was a mistake, Red.”
“Wasn’t it?”
“Is it ever?”
He laughs, the sound hollow and hurt. “You have not lived long enough to challenge me with such philosophical questions.”
Casey chuckles softly, sadly. “Why would she choose the darkness, knowing what you stood for?”
He sighs. “To save someone she loved.” At Casey’s look he explains. “The darkness is alluring and deceitful, but most of all, powerful. It makes costly promises that can be intoxicating, something worth fighting for. Living and dying and loving for.” It obviously hurts him to talk about her. To know that maybe she’s still out there, that perhaps she still loves him, but neither can belong to each other. What a terrible fate.
“Have angels crossed over for love before?” she wonders aloud.
“Some. Our history is long and bloody. Our stories are many, full of betrayal and forgiveness and remorse. But at the heart of it all is that one thing.” He taps his chest above his heart. “Love truly makes all manner of creatures blind, both mortal and the divine.”
The corner of Casey’s mouth turns up. “What was her name?”
“Elise,” Red says quietly.
They drive beneath an overpass. There are very few things to look at along the highway. Mostly forest and rocky ledges and the occasional wooden farmhouse set back against the trees. The sign for the next town rises up on a green backboard. The clouds above them turn from white to gray as she takes the exit ramp along the beach. A storm is rolling in from the ocean; she can feel the energy shift in the car.
The drive to the harbor usually takes about forty minutes. Most of the traffic is heading into town, thankfully, so they make it in thirty. Casey pulls into the familiar parking lot full of potholes and cracks where long grass has cut through and grown like some sort of exotic flora. It’s been yellowed by the heat and lack of rain. A gray swell of clouds line up overhead and Casey cuts the engine, staring out into the distance.
“How exactly do you earn your wings again?”
“Are you asking for a detailed list? Because that I can’t give you. Most of the time your guess is as good as mine.”
“I’m asking—” She blows out a breath. “If this fails … if it doesn’t work—”
“It’s not riding on you, Casey. Me earning my wings back, it’s not synonymous with you finding Liddy. The light has to be satisfied with my sacrifice. Assured of where my loyalties lie. You might be the first of many taskings for me down here.”
“I hope not,” she tells him and means it.
“Me too.”
Casey opens the door and Red follows her down to the water. Her entire being radiates nervous energy.
She hasn’t stepped foot on this shore since the night she died. It’s rocky for a few feet, then turns into the kind of white sand that people take home in little bottles as keepsakes. She walks down the beach and toward the ocean. If she doesn’t make herself, she never will. The waves crash over the shore and she inches away from the water as it rushes up the sand to meet them.
Everything about this place feels tainted. Her heart begins to race and she struggles to catch her breath. This is the closest she’s been to the water since it happened. Since … since …
She collapses onto the sand.
“Are you okay?” Red asks, kneeling beside her.
“Do I look okay?”
“… No?”
She pushes away the hand he lays on her shoulder. “She was right here, Red. The last time I saw her alive. She stood right”—her voice breaks—“here.”
Everything is the same. The island with the rocks. The boat rental shack. The lineup of docks. Nothing changed but her life.
A tear curls over her cheek, slipping beneath her chin. It’s chased by another. Letting the tears escape eases the crippling pressure in her chest. She takes a few gasping breaths before rubbing her face on her shirtsleeve.
Maybe Evan was right. Maybe she’s been reckless in her pursuit of Liddy. Rushing into dangerous situations on a whim, trying to fix something unfixable.
The dead don’t come back.
So, yeah, maybe there was a part of her that took comfort in the fact that as long as she had to keep chasing Liddy, she wasn’t really gone. It means she hasn’t lost her for good. It’s funny how easily other people could see the things you so desperately tried to hide from yourself. How simple it was for them to peer into the corners, past the cobwebs, and point out the exact truths you thought you boxed up.
She shouldn’t be surprised that Evan can see her best. And maybe that’s why his words unnerved her so quickly.
Why his truths hurt the most.
Casey gets to her feet. No, the dead don’t come back. But she could at least help Liddy rest.
She kicks off both her shoes, letting them fall into the sand. Then she pulls off her socks and rolls up the bottoms of her pants.
“What are you doing?” Red asks.
“I’m having a moment, okay? Just … stay here.”
She walks down to the water, stopping just short of where the tide reaches. Then, taking a breath for courage, she wades into the water up to her ankles. It’s familiar and cool and refreshing and only makes her a little weepy.
“Liddy.” Casey swallows as the tide goes in and out. “This has been our craziest summer yet. And we’ve spent most of it apart.” The emotion inside her bubbles up and lodges in her throat. “So, if you can hear me … come back to the harbor. I’ve been trying to find you, to help you, but you have to stop running.” She swallows again. “Right now you’re lost, but I’m going to find you, I promise. Just come back. Please. Come home.”
There are no tears this time, but the salty air stings her dry eyes. She doesn’t know if it’s enough. If it worked or not.
Red comes to stand beside her, socks in one hand, his shoes in the other. He lets the water rush over his feet, wiggling his toes. A soft hmm escapes his lips and he gives her a tiny half smile.
It’s not a lot, but it’s something.
FIFTEEN
“WHAT’S GOING ON?” Red asks.
A police officer in a reflective orange vest holds his hand out to them in a stop right there motion; Casey cuts the high beams to save the officer’s eyes. He blows a whistle between his heavily mustached lips; the short, shrill blasts linger in the air for an obscene amount of time before the officer pops the whistle from his mouth to yell at some kid who tries to squeeze his convertible out of traffic far enough to make a U-turn.
Groups of swimsuit-clad children and their beach-chair-toting parents meander between the cars as they work their way down to the boardwalk, their path highlighted by neon orange glow sticks and volunteers with glow-in-the-dark headbands.
“Welcome to summer in a tourist town,” Casey tells Red. “They’re probably doing fireworks or something tonight for Shore Fest.”
She rolls down the window and the faint sound of live music filters up from the beach. The notes are light and airy before it cuts out, replaced by the voice of some smooth-talking radio host who introduces the next band as a grunge-garage group called Something to Look At.
A plucky, electric guitar chord echoes across the water. Casey cranks the wheel and slides out of traffic onto the gravel shoulder.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re going to be stuck here for a while.” She parks and turns off the engine. “Trust me.” She opens the door and steps out, leaning her back against it. Turning her face up to the sky, she breathes in the tang of salt and seawater.
Red climbs out, looking at her over the roof of the car.
“We can walk or we can wait,” Casey says, “but there’s no point wasting gas idling.”
BANG!
Red snaps his head around as a blue burst of light fills the sky. Silver sparks zoom across the falling blue stars, landing somewhere in the ocean. He looks back at her with wide eyes.
“Told you,” Casey says.
“Fireworks.”
They follow the line of neon glow sticks down the boardwalk. They fade from orange to pink to yellow. Along the edge of the parking lot, food trucks have sprung up selling giant corn dogs and apples coated in red candy or caramel. Boards of order specials drawn in bright colors are tacked to the sides of the trucks.
The air smells like sweet waffle cones and ketchup; it’s the interior of a bakery and a hockey arena all wrapped up into one.
Another burst of color explodes into the sky. Red stops to stare.
“Liddy loved fireworks,” Casey says. “Loud. Colorful.”
“Sounds like they fit her personality perfectly.”
“I think she just liked the way they bring people together. You can’t be here and not smile.”
On the beach, children spin in circles until they’re dizzy, brandishing long sparkler sticks that turn their limbs into neon yellow blurs. They carve their names into the air only to watch them disappear a moment later. They whoop as the sparks jump, tumbling down between their dancing feet.
“Do you think it worked?” Casey wonders, following another firework with her eyes. “Do you think she heard me?”
“I think you did your best.”
“So you don’t know.”
“No,” Red admits. “I don’t.”
The smell of cinnamon and oil strikes a familiar nerve and Casey turns on her heel. A small deep-fried donut cart is jammed among the big food trucks and stalls.
Casey stops in front of the grease splattered window, fingers pressed against the glass. “Liddy loved these,” she says. “I couldn’t stand the smell. But it’s weird the kinds of things you miss when someone is gone.”
“Want some?” Red asks. He fishes in his pocket and pulls out a crumpled five-dollar bill.
She looks down at his pocket curiously. “Are those Evan’s shorts?”
Red shrugs. “I’m sure he won’t miss a few bucks.”
Casey chuckles at his boyishly excited grin. “Go on. Order some,” she says.
While she waits, she dials Evan’s number. Honestly, she’s not completely surprised when she gets his voicemail. “Hey,” she says after his greeting. “It’s me.”
The Dark In-Between Page 17
