by Kate Hall
The gold-detailed vintage room is a flurry of color as the other students in more expensive dresses than hers dance to the music, and Sarah is completely out-skilled here. She usually enjoys dancing, but that’s mainly when she and Gabby are bored of studying and romp around her room to Kesha, not the skilled waltzing that her classmates—and, before long, Gabby and Kelly—are performing.
“Do you want to dance?” Alex asks, holding his arm out for Sarah to take. She looks to him, then to the crowd of skilled dancers. He looks so sure of himself that she doesn’t want to disappoint him and ruin his night by embarrassing them both.
“I don’t know how,” she admits, ashamed.
He laughs. “Neither do I. But we can try.”
She grins and takes his arm, and he pulls her to the swirling dancefloor.
Their steps are clumsy, and Sarah steps on his toes more than a few times, but they almost keep up with their classmates as they imitate their movements to the best of their abilities. She doesn’t care, though, because either way, her body is pressed up against Alex, his hand gentle on her waist.
After two songs, she drags him back off the dancefloor, out of breath and red-faced.
“Are you okay?” he asks, searching her face, his eyebrows pushed together with concern. She wants to put her thumb right on the crease between them, but she’s basically a professional at not touching him whenever she feels the urge. It’s not a profession she wants to keep, though. She’s seen the way he looks at her, felt the heat when he leaves his hand against her’s in the car.
She smiles. “I’m alright. Although if I don’t eat soon, I’m gonna starve to death.”
They find the food upstairs after getting turned around through an ancient Egyptian-style walkway. Dinner is a buffet with a mixture of pricy rich person food and barbeque.
Sarah tries a tiny spoonful of caviar out of curiosity, and as soon as she tastes it, she loads a plate with ribs, mashed potatoes, and fries instead.
Alex makes up a cheeseburger with fries, and they find that Gabby and Kelly are already at a table, although Sarah never saw them leave the ballroom. She and Alex must have been lost for longer than she thought.
Sarah devours her food, and Gabby has to rush to put a black cloth napkin in the neckline of her dress to keep sauce from getting all over her.
“You do not want to try getting that out of something so light,” Gabby says sternly.
Sarah rolls her eyes, and Alex tucks a napkin into his collar—“Like a member of civilized society,” he says, putting on a bad English accent and jokingly looking down his nose at her. She wipes one finger across his cheek, leaving a smear of barbeque sauce behind.
“Perfect,” she says as Kelly and Gabby laugh as he pretends to be outraged.
After eating dinner, Kelly and Gabby go back to the ballroom, but Sarah and Alex agree to check out the aquarium.
It’s not quite what they expect—it’s pretty small, and it only takes them five minutes to walk around the whole place, two of which are spent looking at the round alligator tank that takes up the majority of the space.
They go to the first floor, a mosaic ocean area, where an open-mouthed whale statue spans across half the room beneath a kelp ceiling. The mouth of the whale is the entrance to the cave system. The stone caves are fake, of course, but Sarah allows herself to imaging that they’re real, that she’s a princess escaping the castle after a siege.
Sarah finds herself alone after Alex gets distracted by the sign indicating a ten-story slide, and she walks through a hidden archway and ends up under a waterfall, tracing her fingers along the teal mosaics. She watches groups of students standing around talking to each other, but they don’t seem to notice her behind the fake vines, freshwater aquarium, and waterfall.
A pair of strong arms wraps around her, and Alex’s voice is in her ear. “Found you,” he says, his voice husky.
She twists around slowly, letting herself stay trapped in his arms. His hair is mussed from all the running around, and he’s loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. He is, at this moment, unbearably sexy.
“I want to kiss you,” he whispers, so she stands on the tips of her toes and presses her lips to his, gentle as a butterfly’s wings. The kiss is the complete opposite of their first kiss at the party. Where that had been wild and desperate, a moment of spontaneity between near strangers, this kiss is the gentle response to weeks of careful flirtation. When she pulls away, his eyes are closed, and there’s a small smile playing across his face.
She leans her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him. She buries her face into his neck so that he doesn’t see her blushing.
Chapter Twenty-One
Alex
ALEX IS UNSTEADIED BY THE KISS.
His friendship with Sarah has been tenuous at best, hanging by a thread after they kissed at the faerie party, the event that he’s tried to push out of his mind because of his loss of memory after her leaving. Weeks of growing closer, of small touches and affections here and there, have slipped in, invaded his senses. He didn’t realize just how consumed he is by her until he saw her in the grotto, the waterfall spraying her face gently as she watched everyone else at the party.
The kiss had been barely there, the hint of something more, the gentlest press of Sarah’s lips on his. Alex can’t help but thrill at the thought of it, his heart racing at the possibility of getting to do it again. Whatever they have is far deeper than the gentle flirtations, than the spontaneous kiss they shared weeks ago.
Her breath is hot on his neck, and he holds her tightly to him for a moment before relaxing his arms so that they’re just resting against her back. They stand there for what could be an eternity, but it isn’t nearly long enough. A shiver rips through Sarah at the gentle spray of the waterfall, so he pulls away. She groans and crushes herself back into him, and he can feel her trembling.
He smiles and presses his lips against the top of her head. “Maybe we should go somewhere warmer.”
Her voice is muffled against him when she says, “I am somewhere warmer.”
He laughs and pulls away, and this time, she doesn’t protest.
He leads her out of the tunnels, their fingers intertwined and they somehow end up on the second floor. Despite being cold, she goes outside, climbing through the connected treehouses until she gets as far from the building as possible. Alex has to hurry to keep up, worried that she’s going to trip over her flimsy shoes.
She sighs as she collapses to the ground inside one of the treehouses, and he joins her. Once he’s leaning against the circular wall, Sarah rests against him, shivering once again.
He removes his suit jacket, a slow process since Sarah is lying across him, and uses it as a blanket over her.
The music inside is muffled by glass and brick and the brisk October night, and Sarah’s breathing slows as she relaxes against Alex’s chest.
He almost thinks she’s asleep, when she whispers, “Why do you like me?”
He’s surprised at the inquiry. He’s been spending most weekday afternoons with Sarah and Gabby for a couple weeks, and his feelings have been getting ever clearer to him. He should be asking her this question. He’s the one who’s an unstable mess who was drugged at a party one week and witnessed a murder the next.
He lifts his head to look at her, to see if her face will reveal what she’s really asking. He’s shocked to find tears streaming down her face, glistening in the faint light that trickles into the treehouse with them.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, his hand fluttering up to wipe the tears away as best he can. His heart races. What did he do wrong?
“I just...I don’t know why you like me,” she says, her voice hitching. That hitch, the slight tremble, brings him a revelation. That day at Gabby’s house. He hadn’t recognized the symptoms in her at the time, but he does now. Of course she has anxiety. This fear that she has, the uncertainty of his affection, it isn’t real. She feels it, of course,
but it’s her mind playing tricks on her.
He squeezes her in a hug and kisses the top of her head. “There are a lot of reasons,” he says trying to keep his voice reassuring.
She sits up and looks at him, her eyebrows upturned with pain. “But why?”
He sits up, too, realizing that he’s slid down the wall a bit since getting here. He lifts a hand and rests it against her wet cheek, and she leans into his touch. “You’re funny,” he says. “You always make smart-ass remarks in class that make me laugh.” The barest hint of a smile makes its way across her lips, but she’s still trembling. “And you’re kind. You gave me your notes when I was gonna bomb Spiritual Magic after...After everything happened.” He sighs. “That’s what sort of woke me up. After everything. Gave me a chance to breathe again. I thought you were gonna talk to me about the party, but you didn’t. You never pressured me to talk, you just knew that I was hurting, and you did what you could to help.”
She buries her face in his chest and lets out a deep breath, and the shaking stops. “I’m such a mess,” she whispers.
A short, humorless laugh bursts out of him. “Pretty sure I’m a bigger mess than you. By a mile.” She sits up, pulling away from him enough that he can see her face. A streetlight from outside streams in and highlights her curled hair, which is starting to come loose from its bonds. Her eyes still shine with tears, but she accepts the answer, leaning in and kissing him again.
Their earlier kiss had been small, a drop of rain, and now he sees the storm that it had warned of. Much like the first kiss weeks ago, she smashes her lips against his, and he puts one hand around the back of her neck to pull her even closer. He wants to run his hand through her hair, but it’s put up with dozens of pins and too much hairspray—he doesn’t want to hurt her. Still, he twirls one escaped piece of hair around a finger.
Her hands are resting in her lap, but she uses one to grab his tie, holding him close, as though he might try to escape, but nothing that could happen right now could take him away from her. They sit there, locked in a desperate kiss, consuming each other’s energy, their breath coming in gasps as they forget to breathe for moments at a time.
“Sarah?” someone calls from the direction of the building. In the haze, it takes a moment for Alex to realize that it’s Gabby’s voice.
Sarah jerks away, and Alex lets out a small moan. “Don’t,” he begs, brushing a thumb over her cheek and leaning forward to kiss her neck.
She pulls back and smiles, tears no longer in evidence as she leans into his warm touch. “I have to.”
She gives his jacket back and walks away, but not before laying another sweet kiss on his lips. Instead of going with her, he hides in the treehouse for a few minutes longer. He’ll find her when she isn’t preoccupied with Gabby. After a few minutes of sitting in a daze, he stands up and stretches to return to the throng of students.
When he gets back to the party, Sarah is gone.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sarah
SARAH’S LEGS ARE SHAKY AS SHE MAKES HER way across the ropes that lead to the main doors. The night has been cool, but now, a frigid wind rips across the playground, rocking her for just a moment. She grips the ropes lining either side of the walkway, and she’s shaking with cold by the time she gets to the other end. She wishes for a moment that she’d kept Alex’s coat.
Gabby is waiting for her, eyes wide. Her knuckles are white against the door that she’s holding open.
“Sarah,” she says, her voice hushed, her eyes darting around. “Mark is here. He says you need to go.”
Sarah glances behind Gabby to see that more than a few people are staring at her. She reaches up to feel her hair to find out if it’s out of place, but Gabby’s words finally sink in. She freezes up, looking back to the treehouse where she’d just been kissing Alex. She wants to call to him, to bring him wherever she’s going. He didn’t come with me, she thinks, her heart twinging. She looks back to Gabby, setting her gaze hard. Mark isn’t one of the teachers who volunteered to chaperone this event.
“Let everyone else know I had to go, okay?” she says.
Gabby nods and leads her down the main staircase, which features the intricate mosaic of a mermaid riding a sea dragon, to the main entrance, where Mark stands, pacing in a sweatshirt and jeans.
“Oh, thank God,” he whispers, rushing up and hugging her. She can hear his heart pounding in his chest.
She pulls away. “What’s going on? Where are we going?” Her heart thrums with fear—Mark and Elizabeth have been encouraging her to come to the fall formal ever since she first brought it up, and now that she’s here, Mark is making her leave early. Something must be horribly wrong. “Where’s Elizabeth?” she whispers, her voice breaking.
“Elizabeth is fine,” he assures. “She’s at home. We have to go. Now.” A scream at the other end of the hallway makes him snap his neck around, a hand reaching out to take Sarah’s wrist. However, the noise is just a girl, one of the door attendants, laughing and dodging the other as he goes to stick a finger in her ear.
Mark drops Sarah’s wrist and rests his hand on her lower back to steer her toward his Pontiac, which is parked right along the curb where the limo had dropped her off earlier.
“We have to get moving,” he insists, closing her door after helping her into the stout vehicle. His fear is so palpable that she locks the doors. It only takes him a moment to walk around the car, but she doesn’t want to risk whatever is freaking him out so badly. When he gets to the driver door, she unlocks it for him.
He jumps in, locking the doors again before even putting on his seatbelt. So her fear had been warranted. His hands shake when he puts them on the steering wheel, and he has to take a deep breath to steady himself once the car is running.
“What’s going on?” she asks meekly.
He peels off the curb, racing through the city streets. Her body is pressed into the seat with momentum, and she grips the handle of the door as hard as she can. He doesn’t answer her until the car is flying down the interstate.
“Helen has killed someone else.”
“What? When?” she demands. She wants to look online, to check the news and see if she can find a news story that points to her aunt from the past few days.
He glances at her, hesitating. “At the dance.”
All of the air seems to get sucked out of the car at this revelation. Her head goes light, and a whooshing sound takes over her ears. She can’t open her mouth to speak, but she’s not even sure what she would say. Tonight.
“Everyone there is safe,” he says. “It seems that she disappeared after she was caught. There’s a barrier keeping everyone out of the museum.”
“How did this happen?” Sarah says, her voice barely a whisper. She wants to throw up, but she’s too afraid of the possibility of Mark stopping the car, of Helen appearing right there on the side of the road.
Mark gives her a pained look, and she can see that he’s just barely keeping it together. Forcing himself to be brave, to be the adult. “They think the girl was parked too far away. When she left, she got out of the barrier before getting to safety.”
Someone died tonight. The thought takes up every ounce of space in her head. She doesn’t know who it was—she hadn’t looked for anyone besides Gabby. What if it was Kendall? Or Kelly? Then, guilt rushes through her, tears springing to her eyes. She shouldn’t be relieved if she finds out that she didn’t know the girl. While she’d been busy kissing Alex, someone else was dying.
Every sound, every light that flashes by, is agony. Voices whisper to her in the night. They tell her to run, run as far as she can. She’ll still catch you, one says as they pass under a streetlight. They’re coming from all around her, prodding at her consciousness. The night closes in, and the entire world is condensed to what suddenly feels like an overly flimsy vehicle and whatever can be seen by the headlights. Everything else is just paper, a backdrop of a city that is letting terrible things happen.
; You’re going to die, another voice says, right in her right ear. She can feel its hot breath tickling the hairs at the nape of her neck. She twists around, her heart jumping in her throat, but there’s nobody there. Her mind must be playing tricks on her, the thought of Helen’s demented form haunting the back of her mind.
Because of this, it takes her a while to realize that the drive is taking too long—Mark isn’t going directly home. He goes well past the exit, then turns onto a back highway, across to a different interstate, which he then takes back to the northern side of the city, and then he takes another backroad to get to Chesterfield. Even then, he doesn’t go back to the house until he gets a call from Elizabeth.
When he answers, Elizabeth’s voice comes over the speakers. His bluetooth must be hooked up to his updated stereo. “Alright,” she says. “We’ve got a path for you.” She directs him through the streets, and Sarah’s ears are popping as if a big storm is coming in. She has to stretch her jaw to get rid of the feeling, but it only gets worse.
“Cloaking spell,” Mark says when he sees her digging a finger in her ear. “It’s very powerful, but they have annoying side effects.” He speaks louder, to Elizabeth. “We’re almost there. Be ready to let us in.”
Sarah looks around to see that they’re in their familiar neighborhood, and Mark speeds up at the lack of cars. He has to hit the brakes hard to make the turn into the driveway, throwing Sarah against the seatbelt at the sudden loss of momentum. The moment they get through their iron gate, the popping is gone. Instead, the air feels static, charged.
Three police cars are sitting in the driveway, and Mark has to guide the Pontiac carefully so he isn’t blocking them in. The lights aren’t flashing, but the porch light illuminates two uniformed figures standing by the door.
“Why are they here?” Sarah asks, but Mark doesn’t answer. She climbs out of the car, stopping by the officers, but they’re too busy with their radios to acknowledge her. When Mark joins, he ushers her inside, where a woman in a suit is talking to Elizabeth. She has a shiny gold badge on a long chain around her neck, but she isn’t wearing a uniform like the other two.
