by Keary Taylor
“I will speak to Jack tonight for the last time, if you like,” I say when she doesn’t say anything. “Or tomorrow morning.”
She doesn’t respond. Doesn’t make a sound. Doesn’t look my way.
I am walking beside a shell.
“What will you do, once you leave Roselock?”
I stop suddenly, looking at her as she takes three more steps before she realizes that our walk is over. She looks back at me, her brows furrowing together slightly.
“Once you get your closure, once you say goodbye to Jack,” I continue. “What will you do with your life?”
She looks at me. And at first, it’s confusion on her face. As if she doesn’t understand. Can’t comprehend that there is a life outside of mourning her dead fiancé. And then, it’s almost as if there’s fear in her eyes.
She shakes her head.
“I…” she says, her very voice sounding lost. “I don’t know. I’m…” Her lip begins to quiver. “I’m not sure I’m going to be done after today. If one more time will be enough.”
I slide my hands into my pockets, and the wariness in me grows deeper roots. “I’ve given you more time than I’ve ever given anyone else, Iona. You can still live. Still find happiness. You don’t have to stay an eternal prisoner to this grief.”
She takes a step toward me, her eyes fixed on mine. “Tell me how you do it, Sully. You’ve lost people you love, more than once. Tell me how you deal with it.”
And I know she’s backed me into a corner. Because I don’t have an answer for her. Not a good one. The ways I’ve dealt with death and loss aren’t necessarily good, healthy advice. The look in Iona’s eyes tells me she knows it.
“Take the day to decide what you’d like to say as your goodbye,” I change directions. “We will open the gate tonight.”
I turn and walk back toward the graveyard.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
IONA
“I hope you take today and think about why this is so wrong.” Cressida followed me to the door, venom burning in her eyes. “You’ve only known Jack for a few weeks. This is your mother you’re abandoning. You’re a Faye, Iona. Don’t forget that.”
She slammed the door in my face, and I just stood there, stunned, for a moment.
I knew it wasn’t going to be received well, but I didn’t expect her full-on meltdown.
“Hey,” Jack’s voice cooed into my ear from behind. I felt his hand on my hip, one on my arm, pulling me back toward the car. “It’ll be okay. It’s just a little fresh right now.”
I nodded my head and stepped back to the car, though my eyes stayed fixed on the house.
The drive to the airport was long, and I should have felt anxious about the upcoming flight, but my mind was back home, thinking of the way my mother’s face crumpled, the tears that fell down her face, when I told her I wouldn’t be there for her birthday, but I’d take her out when I got back.
I think I broke her, then.
Jack took care of all the details, checking us in for the flight, getting our baggage to the right area for drop off. He guided me through the busy airport and the next thing I knew, I was in my seat.
“Hey,” Jack said, leaning in. “Where’s that head of yours?”
I blinked five times fast, dragging myself back into the moment. I looked around, confused for a moment, and then Jack’s face came into focus.
Those concerned brows. That strong jawline. His beautiful green eyes.
A smile curled on my lips and my heart instantly warmed. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.
I felt him smile against my own lips and he brought a hand to the back of my head.
“This is exactly where I want to be,” he said. “Right here with you.”
His words sank into my heart, wrapped around my lungs, took root in the soles of my feet. “Me, too.”
Soon, we were in the air, and I watched in wonder as the earth grew smaller and smaller. Jack stayed at my side, his hand laced with mine, as he pointed out the barely recognizable landmarks below us, before everything disappeared behind a cover of clouds.
Touching down on the Miami soil, I held the arms of my chair with white knuckles. Jack just smiled and gave a little laugh as he watched me. Together, we exited the plane, collected our luggage, and I about melted to the hot concrete as we walked out, and a driver was waiting beside a limousine, holding a sign that said Caraway/Faye.
He drove us to our hotel, a sky-high building right at the edge of the place where the sea met the land.
I sighed in contentment as we entered the room and I set my bag beside the bed. Outside our window stretched the endless ocean.
“Jack,” I breathed as I walked to it, taking it all in. “This is amazing.”
He came up behind me, placing his hands on my hips, tucking his chin into my neck. “You’re amazing. Thank you for coming with me.”
I reached a hand back, lacing my fingers into his hair. “Can we always go on adventures like this, on every birthday?”
“We can have as robust of a travel life as you want, baby,” he whispered into my ear. “Wherever you want to go.”
I smiled, leaning back into his chest, imagining all the adventures we could have together.
“You want to go get some dinner before we explore that beach?” he asked.
I smiled and shook my head. “I’m not hungry. Let’s go see what those waves are all about.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
IONA
I walk into the room before Sully does and go straight to the box of matches sitting on the floor. I strike one and light the candles around the room. Not looking at Sully, I sit on the chair, and wait for him.
The sound of his heavy boots warns me he’s moved. His tall form casts a long shadow against the wall. The scent of pine and cotton and dust envelops me as he sits in his chair.
I can’t meet his eyes.
Because for the past twenty-four hours, he’s been studying. Digging with that gaze of his, looking to unearth something.
I think I’m guarding that something. I don’t know why. But a little viper sits coiled in my stomach, waiting to strike if he digs too deep.
I pull the watch out from my coat pocket and drop it in Sully’s hand.
“You’ve never mentioned why the pocket watch is so significant to Jack,” Sully says.
I’m frustrated. Ready to begin.
But I take in how Sully intentionally avoids taking my hand, filling the time instead with words.
“Why this?” he asks, raising it in his hand briefly.
“Because it belonged to his grandfather,” I say. My eyes fix on it. It’s nothing special to look at. Plain, with no adornments. Gold, real gold, yes. But simple. “It came from Toronto, where Jack grew up. His grandfather gave it to Jack’s father when he went off to college. And then Jack’s father gave it to him once he was a freshman.”
I smile, a memory surfacing, of me running my finger up the gold chain, wrapping my finger around it. Of the proud way Jack looked at it as he told me the same story.
“He carried it with him everywhere,” I continue. “He got some strange looks because of it. It’s beyond old-fashioned. But he was proud of it.”
Sully depresses the catch and the face of it pops open. There is no picture inside, as some old watches had. Jack said he intended to put our wedding picture inside, someday. But for now, it’s just the gold surface, and the now-still hands of the clock.
Frozen forever at three-thirty-three.
My blood goes chill.
I look up at Sully, and his eyes are locked on the time, as well.
It seems significant. That it died at that particular time. My heart jumps to a tripping race. My palms sweat. My breathing feels lodged and stuck in my throat.
But Sully only looks at it, his brows furrowed together.
“I…” I stutter. “I-”
“Some things are purely coincidence, Iona,” he cuts me off. He closes his fingers, shut
ting the watch. It entirely disappears into his giant hand. “Are you ready?”
I look up from his hand to his eyes. There’s something resolved in them. Maybe relief. This is the last time he has to Speak for me, and then I will be out of his way, and he will never have to see me again.
I nod.
I place my hand in Sully’s.
And the air grows frigid.
“Iona,” Jack speaks through Sully.
“Jack,” I whisper. All the air leaves my chest, and I sag forward.
“Iona, I know we don’t have much time, so I just wanted to tell you a few things,” Jack says.
My eyes wander the room and Sully nods his head just to the right of me, his line of sight low, as if he’s kneeling next to me. I angle that direction, my eyes straining, as if I look hard enough, I can pick him out of the air, make him materialize and become tangible.
“Things are going to be hard, and the way up to the surface might not be clear, but I want you to remember that I adore you,” Jack says. It’s amazing, the inflections and tones Sully uses, it’s Jack’s voice, only slightly deeper.
A tear breaks free from my lashes, rolling down my face.
I see Sully’s eyes slide from my right, to me, watch as they move slightly to my cheek. And I wonder, is Jack trying to wipe away my tears?
“I love you, Jack,” I breathe out. “I don’t know how to move on. I feel like my life is ruined. Tossed upside down, and nothing is as it should be, and now I’m just alone and drowning.”
“Don’t drown, baby,” he says. “I wish I could still be there. Wish I could be your safe harbor. But you have to be strong. Can you do that for me?”
My hands shake. Sully tightens his grip on me so we don’t lose the connection. I squeeze my eyes closed, forcing out more tears. I bite my lower lip because it quivers.
I shake my head.
“You have to,” Jack says. “It’s almost over. You can make it.”
“Over?” I question, my eyes flying back open.
“It can’t hurt this bad forever,” he says.
There’s a hesitation in Sully’s voice that I don’t think is repeated from Jack. My eyes slide up to his, but he’s looking just beyond my shoulder.
His eyes are narrowed just slightly.
“But what if it doesn’t end, Jack?” I say, turning in my seat, looking where the speaker for the dead looks. “What if I don’t ever get over this?”
“You will,” Jack says. “Because you’re my girl. I believe in you.”
I let my eyes slide closed once more. I reach a hand out, searching for something solid and physical. But there isn’t anything.
I take a deep breath in, slowly letting it out.
I want the effort to make me feel better. To suddenly feel the spark of relief and the ability to move on.
But I just feel exactly the same.
Still, I nod.
For Jack.
“And are you…happy?” I ask, raising my eyes to where I think he is. “Where you are? On the other side?”
There’s a moment of pause. “I…” Sully hesitates. “It’s not what I thought there would be. The emptiness. The waiting. There was still so much I wanted to accomplish in life.”
I nod as another tear breaks free. “It’s not fair. You were doing such incredible work.”
“You were my greatest,” Jack says, tugging my heart.
A little sob doesn’t quite escape my lips, when suddenly Sully jerks back just slightly, though he doesn’t sever the touch between us.
I blink three times fast. “What is it?”
Sully looks around, his lips forming a thin line. “He’s gone.” He releases my hand, and instantly it’s cold. Even though the room immediately warms.
“What…” I stumble, confusion stunting my speech. “What do you mean, gone? Last time…last time you could tell he was about to go. Why didn’t you give me any kind of warning?”
Sully stands and goes to one of the candles. He blows it out harshly. A little curl of smoke rises into the air, and he stares at it for a moment.
“Sometimes it happens quickly. The dead can’t handle it anymore, and suddenly, they’re just gone.”
I sit, frozen on my chair, looking around the room for signs of the wormhole Jack was sucked into. “Can we call him back? Will you give me one more chance? That wasn’t…that wasn’t enough.”
Sully goes to the door, opens it, but stands there. “Our deal was for three.”
“But that was cut off!” I argue. I stand to my feet, adrenaline and anger coursing through my veins. “That was only…only a half. It can’t count.”
“What more would you say?” Sully says, and his volume increases. There’s a razor sharpness that makes me retreat half a step. “You told him you love him, he said the same. You got an opportunity no one else does. Take your closure, and move on with your life, Iona.”
He stalks out of the room, and I hear his booted feet stalk to the back door. It slams closed behind him a moment later.
Panic creeps into my chest, and I dart out of the room to the window that looks out over the graveyard.
It’s twilight outside. A light drizzle makes the world even darker. I see Sully’s form retreat down a small path in the woods beyond where the dead rest, and he disappears.
It will be dark within minutes.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
SULLY
The last of the sun’s rays disappear in the woods. A canopy of leafless branches stretch over me in a cage, locking me down next to the dirt and decaying leaves as the fog creeps in.
A beating drum sounds in the back of my brain. Pounding, over and over, a thump of war and heartless echoes. With every step I take, deeper into the woods, it grows more and more steady.
A chirping howl sounds out into the night, a sound made deep in a feral throat. It’s a warning. An alarm.
I shouldn’t be out here, and the entire forests of Roselock know it.
But I have to put some distance between me and that woman. Between me and that gate I opened.
There is no longer a path that leads to my destination. Thick mud mixed with leaves and broken twigs that were not strong enough to survive the winter litters the ground, making the way slick and nearly impossible to see. I brace my hand on the trunk of an oak tree, narrowly avoiding landing face first in the filth.
In my head, the look on Iona’s face as she heard Jack’s words replays over and over in my head. The brokenness. The hollowness in her eyes. The quivering lip. The tears.
I’d been wrong before. I thought she was the most broken person yet to seek me out.
I’m fairly sure she’s the most broken person on the entire continent.
And it’s all caused by this Jack Caraway.
I grit my teeth tighter, fingers curling into fists, and walk a little faster through the nearly black night.
Just before I arrive, the clouds shift, and a sliver of moonlight peeks through, illuminating the true color of the ground at my feet.
Red.
Blood.
It’s been dark long enough now that it’s spread from the church, all around to the entire town borders.
Ahead, I see my destination, and my feet slow slightly.
There’s a well up ahead. The stones lining its edge rise up out of the ground three feet. They’re chipped. Some of them missing. The mortar crumbles. But the general structure of it still exists, even after a hundred years of disuse.
The house beyond it is unrecognizable by this point. Merely a pile of stones in a general rectangular shape.
But erected over the well, stands a winged angel.
Slowly, I cross to the well, standing just before it, and look up into the angel’s face.
Those who once lived in that demolished house called her Santa Muerte.
She stands at least ten feet tall. A peaceful face is carved into the stone. Her eyes are downcast, looking directly down into the well. Her hands are outstretched, palms fac
ing downward, as if warding off something inside the well. A great set of wings is outstretched at her back.
And at her feet, a great wolf is carved as her companion.
I blink as I look down from her face, down the empty well.
I place my hands on the stones.
Blood fills the walls that plunge down into the earth. It rises, coating the stones. Twelve feet down, ten feet.
I watch it rise, even as the noises around me increase. That yipping call grows louder and more frantic. A whispering breeze rattles through the bare branches above me, warning. Telling me I should not be out here.
But I have to know. Have to ask my question.
The blood reaches the lip of the well, and rises no further.
I can barely make out my reflection on its still surface. The moonlight comes and goes in brightness as the clouds are quickly blown through the sky.
Once upon a time, I came here to the well and asked a question of my fate.
Can I ever fight it?
Now I ask another. But not for myself.
“Did I do the right thing?” My voice cuts into the dark, and suddenly, all that howling, the rustling wind, dies away.
The entire town of Roselock waits in silence for the answer.
I pull the sleeve of my jacket up to my elbow. My lips set in a thin line, I hover my hand above the surface for a moment.
A bubble rises. Pops, sending little sputters of blood flying. It’s followed by two more.
Slowly, I sink my hand into the ice cold red, submerging it halfway up my forearm.
It’s impossible to breathe when your arm is submerged in a well of blood. Impossible to think outside of this very small circle of curse and dread.
Impossible to feel anything at all except the ice-cold liquid. And the anticipation.
Something reaches up from below and touches the palm of my hand.
My eyes squeeze closed. My stomach tightens.
Slowly, it traces the shape of a circle onto my skin.
