by Kate Brian
“Get off me!” I cried, kicking my legs.
Brian laughed coldly. He dipped his head closer, and I saw the sharpness in his dark eyes. The determination. “That’s not gonna happen,” he said icily. “So you may as well just relax and enjoy yourself.”
He mashed his lips against mine again, and suddenly my whole body was on fire. My brain exploded with images. Faces. Girls. A blond with terrified blue eyes, blood dripping from her nose and over her lips as she tried to writhe free. An Asian girl with dark, wet hair, a scrape across her forehead, whimpering as she curled into a ball. Another girl scratching and screaming and begging him to stop. A fourth who’d gone catatonic, staring off into space while he had his way. Each memory assailed me with such stark details that my stomach curled and lurched and burned as I recoiled in horror, but I also felt this odd satisfaction, this tingling pleasure. I opened my eyes and looked into Brian’s, and just like that, I knew.
Those positive sensations were coming from him. He’d done this before and enjoyed every minute of it.
I tried to knock him off me with my knee, but it was like he had four legs and ten arms. I felt my jeans unzip, and I did the only thing I could think to do. I screamed at the top of my lungs.
Brian laughed. He was just gripping the waistband of my jeans when all of a sudden something crashed into him so hard he was flung backward into the sand. A bare foot flew by my face and I sat up on my hands, scrambling backward on the cracked shells like a startled crab. In the darkness, I saw Tristan rear up, his blond hair a brief flash in the night. He lifted his fist high over his shoulder and swung. The crack was sickening. Final.
I pulled in a broken breath, fumbling for the zipper on my jeans, but my hands were shaking so hard there was no catching it. Somehow, I pulled myself up to standing and forced myself to take air into my lungs. Tristan’s sandals lay a few feet away, one on the sand, one on the steps, where he’d kicked them off, probably to gain more speed.
“Are you all right?” Tristan asked, approaching me slowly. I covered the V of my exposed underwear with one hand, clutching my opposite shoulder with the other. Brian lay crooked and still behind Tristan, blood dripping from his nose.
“I…I…” It was the only syllable I could get out without bursting into tears. Tristan glanced down, and the rush of heat to my face was so intense I almost passed out. He shrugged out of his sweatshirt and tied it backward around my waist, so that the bulk of it was covering my front.
“Rory,” he said, hands on my shoulders. “Are you all right? Say something. Anything.”
I couldn’t believe how badly I had screwed this up. I couldn’t believe he’d had to rescue me. All this talk about being part of his world, one of the Lifers, having this mission, and I’d already failed.
“I’m so sorry, Tristan,” I said. “I can’t believe I—”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said fiercely, one hand moving to cup my face. His thumb traced an arc back and forth across my cheek, and my skin hummed. “This is my fault. I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
“But you were,” I said, looking up into his clear blue eyes. “You saved me.”
And then I burst into tears, burying my face in his chest. Tristan held me tightly to him, his arms locked around me as my body quaked with each fresh sob. I was still crying when the first fingers of fog rolled toward us with a low hiss, curling over the lights on the buoys, consuming the boats in their slips and finally the shoreline itself. Seconds later, the fog swallowed us whole, leaving me and Tristan alone in its cool, white grip.
“Who the hell do you people think you are?” Brian seethed, kicking his legs as Joaquin and Kevin yanked him out of the pickup. His heels dragged through the dirt alongside the road, leaving two shallow, jagged trails behind him. “I didn’t do anything. She wanted it.”
He lifted his chin in my direction, and I stepped sideways behind Tristan. We had followed Joaquin in Bea’s Jeep, a bright yellow rusted-out vehicle that wasn’t much more than a go-cart with the top down and the doors removed. Tristan and I had huddled in the back, and I’d pulled his sweatshirt on to guard against the face-numbing wind, while Krista had ridden up front, holding her hair in place with both hands as we bounced over every bump and pothole.
I could hardly look at Brian. I couldn’t believe how wrong I’d been about him, how thoroughly fooled. I felt like an idiot, standing there with the others. Like the stupid new girl. I hadn’t looked Tristan in the eye since he’d saved me.
“Dude, just take this and get the hell out of here,” Joaquin said, releasing him and slapping a gold coin into his hand.
Brian looked at it. “What is this?” he asked, his speech slurred either from the drinking or the punch he’d taken.
“Just go, already,” Kevin grunted, pushing him toward the bridge so hard he almost stumbled.
“Go where?” Brian asked, throwing his arms wide even as he backed toward the bridge. It was as if there were a magnet inside the swirling fog, pulling him toward the open mouth of the path. “You can’t pin anything on me. I can stay here as long as I want.”
He had reached the precipice, the seam between dirt road and paved entry, and he paused, eyeing me derisively. My heart rate quickened, half expecting a hand to reach out and grab him and pull him shouting into the abyss. But nothing happened. He simply stood there while the rest of us stared.
“All right. That’s it.” Joaquin bent both knees and grabbed Brian around the legs, lifting him over his shoulder in a firefighter’s carry.
“What the hell, man?” Brian spat, pounding on Joaquin’s back.
Without replying, Joaquin strode toward the bridge and disappeared into the fog, the mist undulating around them. Suddenly we heard a slam and a pathetic-sounding “oof.”
I glanced furtively at the others. “What did he just—”
But then Joaquin sauntered free of the thick, swirling wall, clapping his hands together, a cocky smirk on his face. Behind him, the fog suddenly whipped into a spinning gray vortex, and there was an odd sucking sound. A cold blast of wind nearly knocked me off my feet, its chill creeping around my heart, freezing it solid. Then everything went still.
“Seriously?” Tristan asked Joaquin, gesturing back toward the bridge.
“What?” he said, raising his palms. “I was sick of listening to him.”
“Me, too,” Bea said, unwrapping a piece of gum and popping it into her mouth.
Kevin spat on the ground in roughly the vicinity of Brian’s footprints.
Krista hid a smile behind her hand. She lifted her shoulders at my surprised, somewhat judging look. “What? At least they’re good for comic relief.”
“Is it always like that?” I asked quietly.
“No,” Tristan said, placing his hand on my back. “When they’re going to the Light, it’s really quite…peaceful.”
“And sometimes when they’re going to the Shadowlands, too,” Krista added, reaching back to pull the rubber band from her long blond ponytail and retie it, smoothing the ratty strands that had been tugged free during our off-roading. “Since they have no clue where they’re going.”
“And normally we can each handle these things alone,” Bea said, turning back toward where the cars were parked, their headlights making twin beams on the windswept reeds. “These last two just didn’t want to go quietly, so—”
“When that happens, we bring backup,” Kevin explained darkly.
“So, what do we do now?” I asked the group.
Tristan looked down at my hands, and I realized for the first time that I was clutching his sweatshirt at my sides, my arms wrapped around my stomach like two taut bungee chords.
“Well, you’ve just officially attended your first ushering,” Tristan said, looking somehow proud and nervous at the same time.
“So Steven Nell didn’t count?” I asked.
He shook his head. “You didn’t know then that you were one of us.”
“Consider sending that jerk
to the Shadowlands your initiation,” Bea said, stepping up behind me. Somehow, that one action felt reassuring, like by standing behind me, she was saying she would always have my back.
Krista walked around her brother, her hair now smooth, her flowered dress perfectly fitted at the waist, the skirt billowing slightly behind her. She reached for my hand and held it, cupping my fingers in her own. The same warmth radiated off her as came off her brother, except there was a sweeter, less intense quality to hers. Almost tentative. I felt a pulse of anticipation.
“And now that you’re officially one of us,” Krista said with an excited smile, “there’s something you need to see.”
The rocky slope was steep and uneven, each step an act of faith as we walked in a straight line—Joaquin, then Tristan, then me, with Krista, Bea, and Kevin trailing along behind. The sounds of the waves rolling onto shore and the brief flashes of whitecaps far out on the surface signaled that the ocean was somewhere up ahead.
“Where are we going?” I whispered, tiptoeing over a slick rock.
“Trust, little protégé, trust,” Joaquin said, his grin glowing in the darkness as he looked back over his shoulder.
“Don’t worry. We’re almost there,” Tristan told me.
Suddenly my left foot slipped, and I went weightless, my arms flailing as my heart vaulted into my mouth.
Before I could even scream, Tristan grasped both my arms and hoisted me back up. Dozens of pebbles tumbled down a sharp drop as we grabbed on to each other. His breath was hot on my face, and even in the darkness, I could see the intensity in his blue eyes as he checked me over.
“You’re okay. You’re fine,” he assured me.
I gripped his arms even tighter as the others caught up with us. “If you say so.”
He smiled, his eyes slowly traveling over my face. “I do. This is one of the perks of being dead. You can’t die again.”
“Awesome, no?” Kevin said with a toothy grin.
“Keep it moving, Slimy,” Bea said, nudging him as she rolled her eyes.
“Did she just call him Slimy?” I asked Tristan as Krista slipped past us, too.
“Bea has nicknames for everyone,” Tristan informed me. “You’ll get one eventually, but be warned—most of them are not all that nice.”
“What’s yours?”
“Golden Boy,” he replied somewhat sheepishly.
I smirked. “Ah.”
“Are you two coming or what?” Joaquin complained.
Tristan slipped his hand down my arm and took my hand, wrapping his fingers around mine. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”
My heart bombarded my ribs with each beat. “Okay.”
Up ahead, Joaquin flicked on a flashlight. The beam bounced over the jagged gray rocks until, suddenly, he dropped out of sight. The others, I noticed with a start, were already gone. I heard a thump and a squishing sound, and then Tristan squeezed my hand again.
“You have to jump here.”
He leaped down, his arm stretching out straight to keep his fingers twined in mine. I hesitated. All I could see was his face smiling up from a few feet below.
“I won’t let you fall.”
Someone laughed in the darkness, and a few more flashlights flickered to life. When I squinted, I saw Krista, Kevin, and Bea standing there, waiting. I swallowed my fear and jumped. Almost instantly, the soles of my sneakers hit soft, damp sand.
“Rory!” Lauren rushed out of the darkness, slid between Bea and Kevin, and threw her arms around me. “You did your first ushering! Congratulations!” I could smell the alcohol on her breath and felt her fighting for balance. I patted her back awkwardly until she released me. She staggered sideways toward Bea and giggled.
“How did it go?” she asked, looking around at the others.
“He was…reluctant to leave us,” Joaquin said, kneading my shoulders from behind.
The others laughed.
“But Joaquin took care of that,” Tristan said.
“I’ll bet,” Lauren said knowingly. Then she hiccuped and covered her mouth with one hand.
“So, Rory…welcome to the cove,” Joaquin said, smiling as he tilted his flashlight toward his face. The effect was eerie, lighting his mouth and nose but casting his eyes in half shadow. “Check it out.”
He trained the beam up ahead, and the others did the same. The tall rock wall we had just descended formed a perfect C around a wide swath of white sand. Waves curled into the shore, but in a more timid, tame way than they did out on the open beach. Dotting the sand along the sheer rock were several colorful camping tents, all but one of them dark. Someone was moving around in the second-to-last tent, which was lit from inside by a lantern.
“Hey, Fish!” Joaquin shouted. “Get your ass out here.”
The arc of the tent door unzipped, and Fisher stuck his head out. I half expected Darcy to be right behind him, since I’d last seen her flirting with him, but when he unfolded his large form in the small doorway, he was alone. A few beach towels were tucked under his arm, and he wore a white fedora at a jaunty angle.
“Hey, all.” Fisher slapped hands with Joaquin, then slid his free arm over Lauren’s tiny shoulders. “How you feeling, lightweight?” he asked her. She giggled, then hiccuped, then giggled some more.
“Okay, what’s your deal?” Joaquin asked Lauren.
“Her new charge likes to drink,” Fisher said, grinning.
“A lot,” Lauren said, widening her eyes as she swayed. “Like, a lot a lot.”
Everyone laughed. “Someone’s going to be sleeping late tomorrow,” Bea chided.
“What’s a charge?” I asked.
“That’s what we call the people we’re supposed to usher,” Bea explained.
“Brian was supposed to be mine,” Tristan told me.
“Oh.” My cheeks warmed, and I looked down at my sneakers, pressing my toes farther into the sand.
“It’s fine,” Tristan said, sliding a hand across my shoulders. “Don’t worry. I’m going to teach you everything you need to know.”
“Yeah?” I said, a hopeful flutter inside my chest.
“I promise,” he replied. “Why don’t you come by tomorrow morning? I’ll take you on a tour of the town. A Lifer tour.”
I grinned. “I’m in.”
His smile widened, and my heart responded with an extra hard thump. The weight of his hand on my shoulder felt comforting and meaningful. Here we were, in front of all his friends, and he had no problem keeping his arm wrapped around me for all to see.
“So where are Nadia and those guys?” Joaquin asked.
As if in answer to his question, there was a loud shriek, followed by a splash, and three people emerged from the water. One of them was Mohawk Girl, the second was the whistler from the boardwalk, and the third was their girlfriend from the basement that morning. They made their way over through the wet sand, and Fisher tossed each of them a towel.
“Rory, I don’t think you’ve officially met Nadia,” Tristan said, gesturing to Mohawk Girl. Her white bikini was practically see-through and her nose ring sparkled in the beam of Joaquin’s flashlight. She stared me down as if I were an atom bomb sitting in the center of her beach.
“Hi,” I said.
She didn’t reply. She simply rubbed her hair with the towel, then tied the towel around her waist, covering up the bottom of her skimpy suit.
“And this is Cori,” Tristan said, introducing the other girl, who had dark curly hair and olive skin and was wearing a modest one-piece. She had more curves than her friend, and a much more welcoming expression.
“Hey, there!” she said, earning a scowl from Nadia.
“And this loser is Pete,” Fisher said, throwing his arm over the shoulders of the tall, gangly guy, who was jerking his head up and down, trying to clear water out of his ear.
He nodded at me, then turned his attention back to Joaquin. “We doing this or what?”
“Why? Got somewhere you need to be?” Joaquin asked.
/> Pete shrugged.
“Come on.” Tristan tugged me forward, walking along the rock wall as everyone else fell in step. I didn’t see the opening of the cave until we were right on top of it. It was an uneven triangle cut out of the stone, very wide at the bottom but tapering drastically as it reached the top, like a Hershey’s Kiss listing to one side.
“You ready?” Tristan asked.
“We’re going in there?” I demanded.
“If you dare,” Pete said coolly in my ear.
Tristan shot him a look, and together, he, Krista, and I stepped inside the cave. The air was about twenty degrees colder, and the opening narrowed so swiftly that it forced us into a single line for a few feet before it widened into a huge, round chamber. The second we stepped inside, my jaw dropped.
The walls surrounding me burst with color. They’d been graffitied so thoroughly that hardly any of the black rock was visible beneath the intricate lettering and design work. I stepped toward the nearest wall and ran my hand over the first name I saw. It had been spray-painted in red and yellow, the letters square and bold.
RYAN DUNN (CORRIGAN) 1995.
JACINDA RAND (LORNING) 2004.
MISTY CALLAIT (RABAT) 1982.
KRISTA KINCAID (PARRISH) 2012.
I stared at Krista, and she nodded, lifting a shoulder almost like an apology. “That’s me.”
I turned in a quick circle now, names and numbers assaulting me—2010, 2001, 1965, 1984, 1921, 1876.
“Eighteen seventy-six?” I gasped, gaping at the tight cursive. My words bounced off the high ceiling and echoed back at me, filling the chamber with their screeching tone.
“Every Lifer who ever came to Juniper Landing has written his or her name on these walls,” Tristan explained, stepping up next to me. “The year marks the date they accepted their calling and received their full powers. For you, today is that day.”
I glanced around the room at all the faces, every one of them watching me closely.
“Are you ready to become a true Lifer?” Krista asked.
I swallowed hard.
