Jack murmured the question into the top of Susanna’s head, his tone light and almost joking, but something about the words made Susanna draw back and study him.
“Are you serious?”
To her surprise, Jack blushed, looked away from her.
“Jack?” she prompted. “I mean it, is that a serious question? Look at me, Jack.”
It seemed to cost him to turn his head and face her, but he did it. What Susanna saw there took her breath away: vulnerability, and real fear.
“Jack!” she whispered.
He clenched his jaw, but he held her stare.
“Of course I’m going to remember you! You’re the only person who matters to me, Jack. The only person who’s ever really seen me, who cares about me. And who I care about.”
Jack’s face reddened and he looked like he didn’t know what to say. He hated emotional moments, she knew. She smiled a little sadly and shifted to move away, to give him an escape from the intensity of the moment, but Jack held fast, refusing to let her.
“I’m not sorry,” he said gruffly. “About everything that’s happened. I’m not, because it meant I found you.”
Susanna beamed even as her eyes filled.
“You don’t know what that means to someone like me, you can’t possibly.” She breathed deeply, trying to loosen the tightness in her chest. “I won’t forget about you. Not ever.” She quirked her lips at him. “Are you going to forget about me?”
“Don’t be stupid!”
“Well, then!”
“All right, all right.” He pulled her back into a hug so that he could whisper in her ear. “You’re my best friend, you know that? You’re… special.” He shifted his shoulders beneath her hands, the line of his back tense, and Susanna knew he was uncomfortable. “I don’t talk about feelings, not since I was a little kid. Not even with my mum.” A long, sad pause. “I wish I had, but it’s too late now. I can tell you, though, and I don’t want to go without making sure you know what you mean to me. I will never, ever forget you. And I’m not sorry, about any of it. It was all worth it, to know you like I do.”
Susanna closed her eyes and let herself enjoy the moment. When Jack let go, she wanted to cling to him, but she made herself draw back, a smile plastered on her face.
“You’ll be able to tell your mum how you feel – you know, that you love her,” she told him. “She’ll be with you again, one day.”
“Yeah.” Jack nodded, a look of childlike longing on his face. It quickly faded into sadness, though. “I won’t see you, though. Not ever again.”
“No,” Susanna replied quietly. “You won’t.”
There was no bed or sofa in the safe house, but Jack helped Susanna up from the floor before moving over to an aged rug that lay in the far corner. The colours had dulled, but the pile was thick enough to look reasonably comfortable.
“Come on,” he said, sitting down and then reclining back on one elbow. “Once more, for old time’s sake.”
Susanna smiled as she followed him down. Leaning her head on his chest, she closed her eyes and listened to him breathe in and out, in and out…
There it was, the line. It shimmered in the air, insubstantial, and yet it was more effective at keeping Susanna out than a steel vault door.
Jack stood beside her, making no move to go.
“Go on,” she said. “You just have to take a step, that’s all.”
“And then what happens to you?”
“I’ll go on.” To the next soul, and the one after that, and the one after that. An endless cycle that would be so much harder to endure now that she’d had a taste of real freedom, of real happiness. “Go on, Jack. Just step.”
He went. Without another look, another word or another touch. He went. Jack stepped across the line.
Susanna watched as he turned and stared at the scene behind him. He wouldn’t see her, she knew, he’d just see an empty road.
Something caught Jack’s attention and he looked away, towards whatever lay beyond – something Susanna had never seen. He took one step, then another. Susanna stood there watching as the world started to bleed white. Her very last glimpse of Jack was of the back of his head as he left her behind.
“Goodbye, Jack,” she whispered.
She could have shouted it and he still wouldn’t have heard. He was – now and forevermore – out of her reach. As her entire world glowed a blinding, brilliant white, she closed her eyes and let the loneliness crush her.
Susanna opened her eyes to the sound of Tristan and Dylan walking quietly into the safe house. The light through the door was dim and the hissing and wailing of the wraiths outside cut through the air until Tristan firmly closed the door on them.
Susanna turned her head, burying her face into Jack’s T-shirt. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, not even Jack, who she sensed was awake, too. She couldn’t, not after that dream. Was it just her imagination, or was that how it was going to be? Had she just had a premonition?
She didn’t understand why the wasteland was doing this to her, sliding her out of herself and showing her these things. She hated it.
She’d thought the ‘dreams’ she’d had of Jack’s past had been painful. The future, she now knew, would be even worse.
CHAPTER 25
It was quiet in the safe house. Susanna and Jack couldn’t be sleeping, but they didn’t look up or speak as Dylan and Tristan slid in the door with the last of the fading light. They’d lingered outside as long as possible, soaking in the time together, but the wraiths were gathering. Tristan had hustled her to her feet at the first low hiss and urged her inside.
Neither Jack nor Susanna had lit the fire, and between that and the growing twilight outside, it was dark in the safe house. Dylan was glad for that, because she didn’t think she could control her face. Outside, she’d been able to forget, just for a while, what lay in store for them tomorrow, but in here, with the other ferryman and her soul, it was inescapable.
She thought she might cry. Or scream. Or puke.
Instead, she forced herself to follow as Tristan pulled her over to a spot against the wall, as far from the others as was possible, which wasn’t very far. There was no bed to lie on, and nothing beneath them but stone floor, but Tristan tugged her down anyway. He let go of her briefly to haul his jumper over his head, laying it down on the floor as a makeshift pallet.
It wasn’t comfortable, but Tristan arranged Dylan so that she was mostly lying on him. The hard floor still dug into her hip, but there was no point in complaining. It didn’t matter. She tried to relax, something which got a little easier when Tristan started stroking his fingers softly through her hair. She tried to commit the feeling to memory.
“Dylan,” he murmured. “Come here.”
She lifted her head to peer at him in the gloom. “I am here.”
“No.” He tugged at her, urging her higher. “Here.”
“Tristan!” She hissed the whisper a moment before his lips found hers. Really? He wanted to start kissing now, when Jack and Susanna were just feet away? They’d had most of the afternoon outside, he couldn’t have started it then?
Dylan’s cheeks burned, but she wasn’t going to draw away. This was her last chance to kiss Tristan like this, when the darkened safe house offered a semblance of privacy. Levering herself up so that she could get a little closer, she kissed him back, leaning into his touch when his hand snaked under her shirt and stroked across her lower back.
This was it, all she’d ever have of him. The thought shot through Dylan like a cannonball and turned the kiss desperate, raw.
“Hey,” Tristan said, breaking away. “Hey, it’s OK.”
She hadn’t even realised she was crying, but when Tristan’s thumbs smoothed across her cheeks she felt the wetness as he wiped it away.
“Tristan, I can’t. I can’t do this.”
He didn’t say anything, just sighed and held her.
“You missed your line,” she told him quietly.
; “What?” The word came out as a puff of breath against her lips.
“Your line.” She tried hard to curve her mouth into a smile. “You’re supposed to promise to come with me, remember?”
She couldn’t read Tristan’s expression in the dark, but she felt it when he understood. He didn’t laugh, though, like she’d thought he would. Instead he tensed, his muscles drawing tight.
“No,” he said. “No lies, not even as a joke. I shouldn’t have done that to you, I’m ashamed of myself.”
“Tristan—” She hadn’t meant that, to break open old wounds. She’d just been trying to find a way to survive the moment.
“Tomorrow, at the line, I’m going to be happy,” he told her, “because I’m going to know that you’re safe. That nothing can touch you, nothing can hurt you, ever again.”
Dylan tried to shush him, to go back to kissing, because she couldn’t stand to hear this, but Tristan wasn’t done.
“Every single time I deliver another soul to the line, I’m going to stand as close to it as I can get, and I’m going to reach out and imagine that I can touch you. If you ever feel it, a brush of fingers that you can’t explain, know that it’s me and I’m there.”
“Tristan.” Nothing else would come out, no matter how hard Dylan swallowed. How was she supposed to manage the walk to the line? How could she walk through, knowing that Tristan couldn’t follow? “I can’t, Tristan. I can’t do it.”
“Yes, you can,” he whispered. “Because I’ll be beside you. Every step until the last.”
Until the last. The final step that Dylan didn’t know how she’d have the strength to take.
But there was no point wasting precious time worrying about it now. Dylan would face tomorrow when it came. Until then…
“Kiss me,” she murmured. “Please, Tristan, just kiss me.”
CHAPTER 26
They were there again, at the line. The exact spot on the road shimmered slightly, and the air in front of them was distorted, just a little. Like a heat haze, though the day was cool.
They stood abreast, the four of them. No one spoke, no one moved. Tristan thought they might stand there all day, until the appearance of wraiths would finally force their hand.
He clutched Dylan’s hand in his, but he didn’t look at her. If he did, he thought he might plead with her to stay. They could be happy here, in the wasteland… right up until his attention slipped and a wraith stole her from him.
So he stood there, and he stared at the line, and he waited.
“This is it,” Susanna said unnecessarily.
“What do we do?” Jack asked.
“You just walk through.”
Jack nodded, but he made no move towards the line.
“Go on, Jack,” Susanna urged. “Go.”
She sounded firm, encouraging. Anyone who didn’t know her wouldn’t hear the quiet edge of desperation, or despair. Tristan did, and he knew Jack did, too. Her soul didn’t move from her side.
Tristan clung more tightly to Dylan. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. If he thought it would make any difference, he’d curse the powers that controlled the wasteland, but he didn’t dare. Not when anything he did might have consequences for Dylan.
“Why do you think you can’t go through?” Jack asked suddenly.
“Because we can’t,” Susanna replied. She sounded exasperated, but Tristan suspected the truth was that she, like him, was struggling to keep her composure.
“Have you ever tried?” Jack argued.
“No, but that doesn’t matter, we c—”
“I have,” Tristan said suddenly. “I’ve tried. It didn’t work.”
“When?” Dylan asked quietly beside him.
He looked down at her, offered her a sad smile.
“Oh.” She gazed up at him, her heart in her eyes, and he knew she was remembering the moment. She thought he’d tricked her, lied to her and betrayed her. The hurt and agony had been written all over her face as she knelt on the floor in front of him, within touching distance but completely out of reach.
Now, knowing that he’d tried to come with her, to stay with her like he promised, the expression on her face was bittersweet.
“I would have followed you, if I could,” he told her quietly.
“You said that you assumed ferrymen could never go to the real world before Tristan did it,” Jack reminded Susanna.
“I told you,” Tristan growled, annoyed that Jack wouldn’t let this go. He didn’t want his and Dylan’s last moments together to be ruined by a stupid argument. “I tried. It didn’t work.”
“But that was before you were in our world,” Jack went on doggedly. “Maybe things have changed.”
“They haven’t.”
“They might have.”
“They haven’t.”
“We should try!”
“Look—” Tristan rounded on Jack, ready to compel him into shutting his mouth if that’s what it took, but Jack was already moving. Grabbing Susanna by the arm, he yanked on her, spun, and then shoved her backwards – towards the line.
Susanna’s face was a mask of shock and surprise as she hurtled backwards. She reached out, but the force with which Jack had thrown her propelled her out of Tristan’s reach. He winced, waiting for her to slam into the invisible wall… but she didn’t.
She flew straight through.
Tristan stared, astonished. Beside him, he heard Dylan give an audible gasp.
“That’s impossible,” he burst out.
Susanna, utterly thrown, stumbled and tripped, landing heavily on the ground. She spun, twisting from her hands and knees to her back, staring out at them – from the other side of the line. Tristan saw her eyes widen, panic etching itself across her face.
“Jack! Jack, where are you!” Her gaze darted from side to side, moving sightlessly over them.
“She can’t see you,” Tristan told Jack, but the soul had already worked that out. He stormed forward and the next moment he was kneeling beside Susanna, helping her up and dusting her off. Susanna still hadn’t managed to wipe the amazement off her face before she was pulled into a fierce hug. Tristan watched her bewilderment morph slowly into an astonished smile.
Tristan turned to Dylan the exact moment she turned to him, and he knew the shock must be as clear on his face as it was on hers.
How? It wasn’t possible.
He knew, he knew it wasn’t possible, but it had happened.
Jack had to be right – their journey into the real world had to be what was allowing them to cross over.
Dylan grinned at him. “If she can…”
“…I should be able to, as well.”
He thought. He hoped. God, he hoped.
Jack and Susanna were laughing now, their sounds of relief and happiness ringing crystal clear in Tristan’s ears. As if they stood right by his side, and not on the other side of an almost invisible barrier.
“Are you ready?” he asked Dylan. Reaching out, he grabbed her hand, held on tight.
“Yes… I—” But the expression on her face was at odds with her words. She bit her lip. “Tristan, if this doesn’t work—”
“It will.”
“But if it doesn’t,” Dylan persisted. She drew in a deep breath, her eyes fixed on his face. “If it doesn’t work, I want you to know that I love you. And if… when you’re bringing souls to the line,” her voice cracked a little, “if you feel someone’s eyes on you, it’s me, watching over you.”
He thought his heart might burst. Drawing her into his arms, Tristan held her close. “I love you, too,” he managed. “But it’s going to work. I know it.” He let her go, her hand still clenched in his, and smiled. “Now?”
Dylan nodded. “Together?” she asked.
“Together.” He moved forward, thinking to kiss her in this, their last moment in the wasteland, but she stopped him, pressing a hand to his mouth.
“Wait,” she said, laughter in her eyes, her doubts quieted. “Kiss me on the other s
ide.”
“No,” he replied, sharing the memory from the last time they had stood in this very spot, this moment too joyful to be tainted by the pain of the past. “Now.”
She laughed, stepped forward and tugged. Together, they stepped through the veil, out of the wasteland.
Tristan couldn’t wait any longer. With one hand he pulled her in closer to his body, with the other he cupped the back of her neck, sliding his fingers into her hair. Letting his eyes slide closed, he pressed his lips against Dylan’s. He felt her fingers twist into the fabric of his jumper, her hands shaking slightly against his sides. Her lips parted, moving against his. He heard her utter a tiny moan, and the sound sent a ripple into the pit of his stomach. He squeezed her tighter, mouth pressing harder against hers. His heart was crashing against his ribs, his breathing ragged. The only thing he was aware of was the warmth of her, the softness. He felt her grow bolder, going up on her tiptoes to lean further into him, lifting her hands from his side and gripping his shoulders, his face. He copied the movement, his fingers trailing down her hairline, around her chin—
“Welcome.”
Tristan jerked his mouth from Dylan’s at the low, musical voice that floated through the air: something had been waiting for them on the other side of the line.
He tensed, thinking the being was an Inquisitor. He waited for his body to lock down, for control to be stolen from him, but it didn’t happen.
“Caeli!” Dylan said beside him. Then, more hesitantly, “Are you Caeli?”
“I am.” The being inclined its head, and after Tristan’s initial moment of panic had passed, he saw that it was nothing like the Inquisitor. If the Inquisitor was made of darkness and terror, this being was light and warmth. It wasn’t cloaked, but it still seemed strangely faceless, apart from its welcoming gold eyes. The features were there, but blurred slightly. Tristan couldn’t focus on it, couldn’t tell if its nose was bulbous or blade-like, its mouth wide or narrow. It hurt, trying to figure it out, so he forced himself to relax his eyes, to let everything stay smudged, just out of focus.
“You have returned, Dylan McKenzie.” Tristan felt the being, Caeli, sweep its gaze across the four of them. “This is highly irregular,” it said.
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