Will blinked in confusion and stopped short. He was sure he had passed the place where he had seen Danny leaning against the railing. Under his breath he swore, then he pushed through a couple of students to get to the metal rail, leaning out over the ground below to get a good look in both directions.
Danny was gone.
Will felt as though all his strength had left him. He let the railing take his weight, head hung. Someone muttered nasty words about his rudeness but he ignored them; they were right.
His heart felt as though it had turned to stone. He had done the spell to take him back in time to heal the wounds someone had torn in his life. Now he began to wonder if, even if his journey was a success, he might have simply traded those wounds for others, injuries not only to his heart but to his faith in everything.
Son of a bitch, he thought. What's your story, Danny?
Will didn't have an answer yet. But the Homecoming Dance was only hours away and he promised himself that tonight, no matter the cost, he would learn the truth.
WILL TOOK CAITLYN to the Homecoming Dance in his father's 4Runner, but the drive over to the school was solemn. By default, his girlfriend had been made Homecoming Queen that day, riding on the float with Tim Friel. Caitlyn hadn't liked that at all. It would have been one thing if Tess had just dropped out or gotten sick, but knowing what had happened, Caitlyn simply did not feel right about it. She had asked Principal Chadbourne to tell the Homecoming Committee to skip the King and Queen's dance.
Showing more sensitivity than Will would have credited him with, Chadbourne had agreed.
Both Caitlyn and Tim felt the entire event should have been canceled, but the principal had explained that the gymnasium was already decorated, the snacks and drinks had already been ordered, most of the student body had no idea what had happened the previous night, and in any case, there was simply no time. People would have shown up to find the doors locked and a sign on the door, all dressed up with nowhere to go. Certainly, Tess O'Brien would not want the dance to be canceled.
He was right about that, but Will doubted the principal had bothered to find out for himself. It was simply easier for him to have the dance than to explain its cancellation. Word would get around. It was already spreading. Will was sure the guy was going to catch hell from parents the following week, but Principal Chadbourne did not want to be the one to cancel the event. And maybe he was right. With the terrible things that had happened in the last week, it might be just what the junior and senior students needed.
For his part, Will was glad the dance was still going to happen. If the shit was still going to hit the fan, his future self insisted it was going to be tonight. Will didn't bother reminding him that he and Future Brian were changing things, that the time line might not unfold the way they remembered it. It didn't matter, because it wasn't just their memories. It was something in the ether, some ominous weight in the air.
Magic. He fucking hated it. Magic corrupted everything it touched. He was certain of that. And yet any misgivings Will had had about the interference of his future self in his life were gone. Before all of this, his worldview had been entirely too simple. Yes, he and Brian had made a hobby out of something dark and dangerous, but Will had managed to convince himself it was nothing, that most of it had been his imagination.
There would be no more denial.
If Future Will and Future Brian hadn't used magic to return to this time in their lives, Nick would have gotten away with all of it. Will didn't like to think about what would have happened to Ashleigh—what had happened to Tess—or to wonder how many other girls would have suffered the same fate.
But it wasn't over yet.
He and Caitlyn had driven to the school in near-total silence, their hands clasped over the console between the front seats. Now he unlaced his fingers from hers and put both hands on the wheel, slowing the 4Runner as he rolled through the parking lot in search of a space. There were dozens of people still outside, talking in groups or walking toward the entrance to the gym. Yet just looking at them Will could sense their reserve, the hesitation that had touched them all. Word was spreading, all right.
“Pretty brightly dressed for a funeral,” Caitlyn said softly.
Regret surged through Will as he pulled the 4Runner in between a dented Sentra and the Dumpster. He put it in park and glanced over at her. Caitlyn wore an eggshell blue dress with thin spaghetti straps, and her hair was done in ringlet curls that framed her face beautifully. She looked to him like one of the delicate ceramic Lladro figurines his mother collected.
He reached out to touch her face, locking eyes with her. “We've already had the funeral,” he said softly. “Okay, so it won't be the same. Mike should be here. What happened with Tess . . . what Nick did . . . I'm not going to tell you I'm not fucked up about it. But you've got that dress on, and my God, you look beautiful. And our friends are waiting inside. There's music, there's dancing, and I know you don't want all of that to go to waste.”
One corner of her mouth lifted in the sexy, lopsided grin that had made him fall in love with her in the first place. Caitlyn leaned in and kissed him, her lips brushing gently against his. She rested her forehead against his and Will slipped one hand behind her neck. For a long moment they remained that way, until at last she withdrew.
“Let's go dance.”
Even now there was a kind of guilty hesitation in her eyes. Will nodded encouragingly.
“Absolutely.”
He had to go around and help her down from the 4Runner. It was chilly, and he felt gooseflesh rise on her arm, but she left her jacket on the seat, not wanting to have to deal with it inside. They walked quickly hand in hand across the lot. Todd Vasquez was smoking a cigarette on the school steps; when he saw them coming, he took a long drag, then held the door open for them as smoke plumed from his nostrils.
His dark eyes fixed on Will. “Nice work, man,” he said, voice low.
Will gave him a curt nod and went in, but that small exchange made him even more tense. Moments later when he and Caitlyn walked into the gym he felt as though a spotlight was on him. Word had spread, the story about Tess's rape, and Nick's arrest, and the role Will had supposedly played in capturing him. Even with the multicolored lights flashing around the darkened room and the music pulsing, merging with the chatter of so many voices, he felt squirrelly, like all he wanted to do was run.
“Come on,” Caitlyn whispered in his ear.
Then she tugged him across the room toward a table surrounded by cheerleaders and football players. Some of them were his friends as well, but others were very much hers. Pix and Lolly were double-dating with Tim Friel and Joe Rosenthal. Kelly Meserve was with Scott Kelso. Dori was with Chuck Wisialowski and Bonnie had come with Trey Morel, who was cocky but not a bad guy. Kelso was in a tux, but it wasn't prom, so the rest of the guys were in suits except for Chuck, who apparently considered himself too cool for a formal dance and had worn a football jersey and khakis.
The girls all started in, talking to one another in close, just loud enough to hear each other over the music. There was none of the glee in their faces that gossip usually produced, however. Unpleasant topics would dominate tonight.
Tim Friel was the first one to greet Will. “Hey, man. Pull up a chair.”
“Not just yet. Thanks, though,” Will said. “We're gonna dance first.”
Kelso nodded toward the dance floor, which was sparsely occupied. “Still in the snack phase. Not much dancing yet.”
Will shrugged. “I don't mind leading the way.” He glanced at Tim. “Great game, by the way. That run saved us.”
“Thanks.” Tim gave an inquisitive lift of his chin. “You OK?”
His broken nose was still swollen and tender, but otherwise he was fine, and he did not feel like getting into it with these guys. “I'm good.”
Caitlyn continued to talk with her girlfriends, and the guys went back to whatever they had been discussing when he'd arrived. Will let his gaze wander; jus
t off to his right, beneath one of the basketball backboards, he saw Brian watching him. And he wasn't alone. Future Will and Future Brian were there, talking with the English teacher, Mr. Murphy. The three adults—and how weird was it to think of himself and Brian that way—were laughing about something.
“Sweetie, I'll be right back. Just want to say hello to Brian,” he said in Caitlyn's ear. Her eyes sparkled as she glanced at him, but she said nothing, only kissed him on the cheek and sent him on his way.
Brian saw him coming and excused himself, walking away from the others. They met up not far from a table of chips and cookies and drinks, and Will glanced around to make sure no one would overhear them.
“They seem pretty chummy,” he said.
With a glance over his shoulder, Brian nodded. “Yep. Mr. Murphy was more than happy to have our ‘uncles' as extra chaperones. Thought your resemblance to your uncle William was pretty remarkable.”
“Yeah, isn't it, though?”
The amusement left Brian's face. “He seemed to think our parents wanted someone to look out for us after last night. I let him go on thinking that.” He shook his head in frustration. “No sign of Danny, though. Do you really think he's . . . that he and Nick were working together?”
Will glanced at the floor. “I don't know, Bri. I wouldn't have believed any of this if I hadn't seen it, you know?” When he looked up again, he frowned, staring past Brian. “And right about now, Danny isn't the first thing on my mind.”
“What is?” Brian asked, turning to see what had drawn Will's attention.
Twenty feet away, the handsome, confident man Brian would one day become was still talking amiably with their English teacher. But the third member of that group was gone.
“Where the hell did Future Boy slip off to?”
WILL HAD SEEN his younger self come into the gym with Caitlyn but had tried not to watch them. She was heartbreakingly beautiful tonight, and the sight of her brought a bittersweet ache. It was a merciful distraction talking to Mr. Murphy, a teacher he had always liked and who, seeing him now as a peer, insisted upon being called Kevin. Strange, but sort of nice, as well.
Now all those thoughts were gone, incinerated and blown out of his head the second he saw Danny Plumer slip out of the gym through the big double doors that led into the school. With barely an excuse-me, Will had left Brian there to talk to Mr. Murphy and rushed along the darkened wall of the gym, trying to remain inconspicuous.
He pushed the metal release and slipped through those doors and into the dimly lit corridor, the music echoing off the linoleum floor and the metal lockers that lined the hall. When the door clicked shut behind him the music was muffled but not blocked out completely. Will was just in time to see Danny go into the men's room, and with a quick glance around he started in that direction.
All of the grief and pain and confusion in his heart became a maelstrom of emotion that drove him on, quickening his pace. The soles of his shoes slapped the floor, echoing along the hall, almost as though someone was following him. But no, he was alone. His fists were balled at his sides when he shouldered the bathroom door open. It banged against the tile wall.
Danny wore a charcoal black suit and a white shirt beneath it with no tie. He wasn't traditionally handsome, but so cool that it gave him a certain air, like a young Bogart. Will had expected to find him pissing at a urinal or maybe washing his hands. Instead, Danny was leaning against the far wall under the cracked, opaque window, hands stuffed in the pockets of his suit jacket.
“Hello, Will,” he said, voice heavy with resignation.
All the breath went out of Will then. His eyes narrowed and a vein in his temple twitched. “You know it's me? You son of a—” He started across the tiled floor, arm cocking back.
The kid—and he was just a kid, really—held up his hands. “Wait, no, wait a second. You got it wrong. I . . . yeah, I know it's you. I've got a good idea what's going on, but I haven't done anything, I swear to God.”
Shame colored Danny's face and he averted his eyes. “Didn't do anything to stop it, either. But, holy shit, Will, I never thought it would come to this. I knew, though. When I saw you at Lebo's funeral, I knew it had to be you. You and Brian.”
Will lowered his fist but did not relax his hands. There was so much anger in him, the truth was he wanted to pound the hell out of Danny. He had felt so much of his past betraying him in recent days, and Danny was a friendly face, a part of that past, and the perfect place for him to unleash his anguish.
But instead he stopped, and he listened. “How did you know?”
Danny slipped his hands back into his jacket pockets as if by doing so he could become invisible, could avoid Will's accusatory glare. “Nick saw you, bud. You and Brian, that day at Herbie's. He saw Brian's little walking-on-air trick, and he saw you do some mojo with your fingers and turn his frappe or float or whatever he ordered that day—Nick saw you turn it to blood. Hell, we all saw the blood, but only Nick made the connection.”
Will felt his face go slack with surprise. Nick Acosta had always been a decent guy—or so he thought—but he'd never been accused of being clever. It was nothing short of stunning to learn that he had known these things and Will had never been the wiser. Yet even as these thoughts went through Will's mind, others came, as well. Nick as the shadow man, wielding enough magic to cloak himself in darkness, to make himself translocate, at least once.
“And he told you,” he said.
Danny frowned. “Shit, no. He didn't say word one to me. I didn't find out until she told me. By then Nick was bangin' her. Or more likely it was the other way around. She offered him what he'd always wanted. She tried to rope me into it, but I gave her a pass. Not Nick, though. Once he got a taste of that, she had him wrapped around her finger. Maybe there was some magic in it, or maybe he's just that fucking weak. I don't know. But he did it all for her, Will. She'd do whatever he wanted, and so he'd do whatever she wanted. All that pain and tragedy, with that face and body? How could he resist?”
Confused, Will held up a hand. “Wait. She? Who's . . . ?”
And then he knew. In his mind he could even picture it happening. Nick had seen him and Brian doing magic in the ice-cream shop that day. He knew nobody would believe him, but there was one person he would have wanted to impress more than anyone else, one person he would have told, even with the risk that she might laugh.
The final puzzle pieces clicked into place. He had already realized that Nick couldn't have been working alone. His skill with magic had been minimal; at the lakeside, after he'd raped Tess, he had seemed surprised that he didn't just translocate away. Someone else was pulling his strings. The same someone who had been behind the wheel of that dark sedan the night Nick pushed Mike Lebo in front of Will's car.
But there was a further wrinkle, one he and Brian had barely discussed yet were both aware of. Whoever was involved—whoever was destined to kill Bonnie Winter—couldn't have been from this point in time. It had to have been someone from the future, or it wouldn't have changed the past, it would have been the past.
Will stared at Danny. “He told Dori.”
Again, he looked away. “She's been here about six months. The . . . the older Dori, I mean.” He uttered a nervous laugh. “Fucking with Nick's head the whole time. She moved right into Eastborough, opened up a florist shop downtown. The, what the hell's it called?”
“The Flower Cart,” Will said numbly. “It's called The Flower Cart.” The first time he had seen it he had known that he had no memory of it, but with the morass his mind had become, he had assumed he had forgotten it.
“That's it,” Danny confirmed. Then he swallowed hard, and this time he met Will's gaze. “She told us what you did, man. What you and Brian did to her. You guys did your little spells here and there, a little levitation, a little turn-soda-to-blood or whatever. But she spent years studying this crap, Will. Now she's hurting people, twisting people up.
“And it's all about what happened before
, what you and Brian did to her.”
Will covered his eyes with one hand, and with the other he reached out to grab a sink to steady himself. The deck of cards in his head wasn't being shuffled anymore. Instead, someone was playing fifty-two pickup with his life, with his memories, aces and diamonds and hearts and blood and girls with wounded souls all flying through his mind's eye.
Everything made sense now. Terrible, devastating sense.
He pressed the heel of his hand against his eyes, slid it up across his forehead as though he could erase it all, every fragment of half-remembered joy that had been obliterated, every grievous sin that had replaced them. Then, abruptly, Will dropped his hand and up from his chest there came a cry of anguish that tore from his throat in a primal rage. No words, just that sound. And when he had uttered it, he felt hollow inside.
Danny was staring at him fearfully.
When Will spoke again, his voice was weary. “Where is she?”
“I don't know. I haven't seen her in months, just heard about her from Nick. I swear to you.” Danny's gaze ticked around the bathroom and he fidgeted, there against the wall, like a junkie in awful need of a fix.
“Danny! I saw you looking at Bonnie at the game today. You know she's on the list. Maybe you don't know why, but I do. Graduation day, bud. Months from now. She gives me—the me you know—she gives me a note that says she had a crush on me all through high school. That's why she picked Bonnie. For that matter, that's why she picked Nick. I'm thinking maybe Nick picked Tess, but I don't know. But it isn't going to end here, Danny. Not unless you tell me where she is!”
He jumped. “Fuck, Will! I said I don't know. It's just . . .”
“Just what?”
Danny rolled his eyes. “Think about it. If you were her, where would you be?”
Will was in motion before Danny even finished the sentence. His guts were ice as he yanked the bathroom door open and sprinted down the corridor toward the gym. Through the tiny rectangular windows, those multicolored lights splashed pale pastel ghosts into the hall. The music still thudded dully through the doors. Will could hear running footfalls behind him, but heading off in the other direction. Danny, taking off. Getting the fuck out while the getting was good.
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