The Ending Series: The Complete Series

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  Zoe inhaled, held her breath for several seconds like she was going to say something, then exhaled. And then she did it again.

  “What, Zo?” I didn’t bother pulling away to look at her. I knew she could hear the exhaustion in my voice, knew she could already feel everything I was feeling. She didn’t need to see my face.

  “Well…with Jason gone—”

  “Gone?” Was she finally giving in to the inevitable?

  “Missing,” she amended. “With Jason missing, I was just thinking about your drifting. Have you thought about what you’re going to do when your Ability returns?”

  Let it take me. Give in. Be free. Let go…

  “No,” I said. I lied. “With everything else, I just…” I sniffled, giving my thoughts a moment to catch up. I just needed a moment. “I forgot about it,” I said—lied, again. The possibility of losing myself in the mind and body of another creature was the only thing keeping me from losing it completely. When my Ability finally came back online, I’d be able to escape from myself…from my friends…from my misery, at least for a little while.

  Zoe was quiet for a moment. “Maybe we should ask the New Bodega council if they know of anyone else who can null, or maybe if we—”

  “There’s no need,” I said hollowly. “It’s not like I can drift right now anyway. Maybe by the time it’s a problem, we’ll have found him,” I added, drawing on her certainty that we’d find him alive rather than mine that we wouldn’t. “And if we haven’t, I can use it as another way to search for him.” And search for her, I thought, the desire for vengeance denting the barrier of shock numbing my heart.

  I felt more than heard Zoe’s breath hitch. “D…it could be days, longer even, before we find him.”

  And if we don’t find him, it won’t matter, I didn’t say.

  Zoe took a deep breath. “Gabe might be able to help, too.”

  That was Zoe. Always with the plans and definitive action and a goal in mind. Sure, she was creative in ways I would never be and saw the world in colors I couldn’t even imagine, but she was also a planner, and a damn determined one. Me, on the other hand…

  “I’ll make it work.”

  “D—”

  My stomach lurched, and I groaned. “Oh God…” Weakly, I extracted myself from Zoe’s embrace. “I think I’m gonna be sick.” I stumbled around the foot of the bed, rousing both Annie and Jack, and managed to make it down the hallway and into the bathroom before the actual heaves began. I collapsed onto my knees and sagged against the toilet, my face hanging over the bowl and my eyes closed.

  Mere seconds had passed before Zoe’s fingers, cool and steady, brushed across my forehead. “You don’t feel feverish; just a little clammy.” She somehow managed to wrangle my wild mane with her fingers and gather my hair at the base of my skull. “It’s probably because you haven’t eaten anything. I’ll ask Chris to—”

  “No.” I swallowed repeatedly, hating the metallic taste my suddenly overabundant saliva had taken on. It reminded me too much of the taste of Jason’s blood on my lips. I gagged a few more times. “I can’t eat. I’ll just throw it up, and what’s the point in that?” Another gag. I spat into the toilet, then flushed away the acidic liquid that had been all that was in my stomach. “We can’t afford to waste food like that.”

  “Well, we can’t afford to lose you, either,” Zoe snapped. “And if you starve yourself, that’s exactly what’ll happen.”

  I rested my cheek on the cool toilet seat. It was hardly sanitary, but in that moment, I really didn’t care. It was cool, and cool felt soothing…like Zoe’s fingers. Cool was good…nice…

  “D…I’m sorry. I just…” Zoe blew out her breath. “I hate this.”

  “I know,” I said weakly. “Me too.”

  “Think you’ve got it all out of you?”

  I nodded without raising my head.

  “Alright, come on.” Taking hold of my elbow with one hand and the side of my waist with the other, Zoe hauled me to my feet. “Let’s get you to bed. I’ll get you a cool rag, and then sleep’s bound to make even this fucked-up situation seem a little brighter.”

  I nodded, knowing full well that sleep, like food, wasn’t on the menu for me. Not today. Not until my Ability returned and drifting was the inevitable result of trying to sleep. I knew what nightmares awaited me in my dreams. I’d fought this battle before, and I had the mental and emotional scars to prove it.

  Besides, it wasn’t like I’d be able to fall asleep anyway.

  DECEMBER

  1AE

  8

  ZOE

  DECEMBER 1, 1AE

  The Farm, California

  Dani’s room was washed in what little moonlight shone through the cloud-garnished sky, filling the small cottage bedroom with a murky haze that held so much more than night: anguish—desperation—confusion—disbelief. I was lying on top of Dani’s bed, her in my arms and wrapped in Grams’s quilt. It was my first night home after a few days of helping to search for Jason. I was supposed to be resting, I wanted to rest, but I couldn’t.

  As hard as it was to be in her and Jason’s room, both of us surrounded by images and memories of them—of Jason—and sleeping in the bed he’d made for her, I knew it had become the only way for her to be close to him—to cope.

  We’d been lying there for hours, some of the time in silence, some with ear-splitting sobs filling the room, but not one passing minute was absent the foreboding truth: she saw him dying. His body was gone, at least nowhere we could find, and there was still no sign of the woman.

  Dani shivered, not from cold or fatigue, but from raw emptiness. I wrapped my arms more tightly around her. I’d kept my mind open for Jason’s for days, and now for all the others’ minds too, should something happen while they were away, still searching, still hoping. So, I knew the instant the small search party returned home. And I knew that, like our first outing, they didn’t have Jason—dead or alive.

  Thankfully, my knowing, silent tears were shrouded in darkness, so Dani couldn’t see them. “D,” I rasped. I could feel the numbness setting in as she battled the oblivion that had been inching its way in since the moment we’d arrived in the forest, only to find Jason nowhere in sight.

  Slowly, I sat up and peered down at her silhouette. She made no sound or movement to indicate that she’d even heard me. “Dani?”

  Finally, and ever so minutely, she shifted her head to look at me. “I know they’re back. You should go see them.”

  I blinked in surprise. I hadn’t realized her Ability had returned. I nodded. “I’ll be right back, okay? Keep the blanket around you…stay warm.”

  Her head inched downward.

  “I’ll get another blanket from the house, too,” I said, which was only half the truth. “Do you need anything?”

  Her head inched to the left and then to the right.

  I wasn’t sure Dani was really registering much of what I was saying. I leaned down and kissed her forehead before tucking the blanket more snugly around her. “I’ll be back.”

  Climbing off her bed, I pulled my long sleeves over my fingers and wrapped my arms around myself. I padded out of the bedroom and toward the creaky front door, where I sensed Jake approaching. Quietly, I opened the door. I was unsurprised to feel his remorse and concern surround me once I stepped outside.

  The gnawing wind whipped by us as we stood only inches apart, but my focus was on the light emanating from inside the farmhouse, on rain-soaked buildings and overgrown grasses and the mud-puddled gravel drive nearby…I was focused everywhere but on Jake’s solemn expression cast in moon shadows.

  “There was no sign of him or the woman in town. I checked Cotati and Rohnert Park,” Jake said, defeat radiating from him. In his mind, I saw images of blood-spattered walls in abandoned buildings, of discarded food wrappers blowing around and tire tracks on the roads, but there was nothing specific to Jason, nothing he’d left behind for us to find, and no sighting of a woman who even remotely resemble
d the picture I’d drawn from Dani’s memory. There was nothing even remotely promising.

  Even though I knew the answer, I had to ask anyway. “The dogs, they didn’t find anything?”

  Jake shook his head and stepped closer, his booted toe touching my slipper. I didn’t like the enormity of our mingling emotions. I didn’t like what his dulling confidence felt like. I wanted to push him away, to tell him to look harder, that Jason had to be somewhere and even if the woman had him, they couldn’t have traveled so far. But I couldn’t push Jake away; I couldn’t do anything, but finally let go. And finally, I cried.

  When my knees grew too weak and my legs gave out, Jake caught me. I couldn’t be strong for Dani and hold back my tears anymore, not when the truth that my brother had been taken from me, from my family, began to finally sink in. “He’s dead,” I said quietly, hope nothing but ash on my tongue.

  “We’ll keep looking, Zoe,” Jake said as I sat curled and crumpled in his arms. I gripped his jacket, pressing my face against him to muffle my sobs.

  I thought about the day Jason and I had opened the box, the day he’d told me, after so many years, why he had such a hard time looking at me. You look exactly like her. That was the day we learned the first, earth-shattering secret about our family.

  I thought about the flashes of concern and amusement I’d seen in his eyes when I’d lost my memory, about the way we’d finally found some semblance of family and understanding in one another.

  I thought about the stacks of plans he’d drawn up over the months we’d all been settling in, getting too comfortable—too happy—that were sitting on the edge of the dining room table, waiting to be deciphered. We’d become partners in documenting this new life we’d embarked on together—a life that he was no longer a part of.

  We’ve only just become a family again…

  I thought about our mom, about our dad. I thought about Dani.

  The wind whirled around Jake and me, its taunting howl echoing through my head despite Jake’s sheltering embrace. He moved, trying to pick me up, but I didn’t want to go inside. “No,” I rasped and clung to him more tightly. “Please…” I didn’t want Dani to see me like this, couldn’t look at my dad…

  Thankfully, Jake didn’t argue. We sat there on the cottage’s stoop, Jake holding me under the awning that barely staved off the drizzling threat of rain. I shut out his emotions and lost myself to my own. Nothing seemed right, nothing made sense. How could everything have gone so terribly, horribly wrong?

  When my throat was raw from gasping for air and my eyes burned from too many tears, I let out a steadying breath and blinked my eyes open again. The horizon was washed in a pale gray that gave way to ominous black clouds shifting above us. I wasn’t sure how long we’d been outside, me wrapped in the warmth and protection of Jake’s arms, but I knew that if Dani was still awake, she’d be wondering where I was, why I’d abandoned her. Part of me thought she should know I was no longer hopeful, but then I realized she already did. She had to. Dani already knew he was dead; she’d said so a hundred times, though I didn’t want to listen.

  It just doesn’t make any sense… More often than not the thought brought me hope, but as the minutes, hours, and days passed, hope became little more than a puff of cold air, too fleeting to hold on to much longer.

  I straightened in Jake’s arms and let out a deep breath as I wiped the remaining wetness from my raw nose and cheeks. Gently, he brushed the dampened hair from my swollen face. I wished I knew how to make him feel less like he’d failed.

  “You’ve—” I cleared the hoarseness from my voice. “You’ve done all you can, Jake. More than I could’ve asked of you. Thank you.”

  He stared down at me, his eyes filled with a desperation to make everything better…to find his friend.

  I cleared my throat again and peered toward the farmhouse. “How’s my dad holding up?” I needed to know but feared what I would glean if I let my mind find his.

  Jake hesitated. “I’m not sure he’s come in from the stable yet,” he said, his voice soft and his expression as weary as my own must’ve been.

  My eyes skirted behind Jake, toward the stable. It seemed more dilapidated and imposing than usual. “I should go talk to him,” I said with a sniff. “I should make sure he’s alright.”

  Jake nodded.

  Then I remembered Dani, alone inside the cottage. “I should check on Dani first. I shouldn’t have left her alone for so long. She’s been doing a little better with me home.”

  “Go talk to your dad,” Jake said, pulling me into his arms once more. He kissed my forehead. “I’ll ask Camille or Mase to check on her.”

  I peered into the cottage window, uncertain why I’d hoped to see a light on inside. “You should send Chris. She’ll help Dani feel better.”

  Jake’s arms loosened and he shook his head.

  I frowned.

  “She went with Sanchez and Grayson to New Bodega.”

  “Oh,” I said on a sigh. I hadn’t heard them leave.

  “Chris wanted to check in with the Counsel again, to find out more about the traders, and Grayson thought the townspeople might have seen or heard something the last couple days. They wanted to make a trip before your dad, Harper, and I left again.”

  “Good idea,” I said, exhausted, and I squeezed his hand. “I’ll just talk to my dad later. Go get some rest,” I said, taking a deep breath as I readied myself to head back inside. “I’ll be out in a bit.” When Jake nodded, I exhaled, trying to breathe out the tightness in my heart and chest.

  The cottage was quiet when I went inside. I hoped, for a brief second, that Dani might’ve finally found comfort in sleep. But that hope quickly diminished as I realized she was drifting, lost in the auroral morning far away from here.

  And she was glowing.

  ~~~~~

  Standing at one of the square, rustic windows in Dani’s bedroom, the curtains drawn to the side, I stared out at the farm that was finally less dreary. It was almost bright with afternoon sunshine. I felt a momentary lightness until my dad descended the steps of the farmhouse porch, shoulders slumped as he lumbered toward the barn.

  I knew he was heading to the woodshop he and Jason had commandeered at the far end of the structure, where there were cobwebbed windows providing ample light to whittle in, a sturdy old table that passed as a decent workbench, and enough room to store discarded and forgotten pieces of wood that they would inevitably turn into something breathtakingly beautiful. It was a small space of their own that was tucked just far enough out of the way that it felt like it existed in its own manageable little world. It was one of the few remaining connections my dad had to Jason, something I’d only just realized. I watched the increasing urgency in his steps, like he couldn’t retreat inside his safe haven, his private world, fast enough.

  My eyes began to sting. I ventured a glance at Dani, who was curled up with Annie on the bed, the small child nestled in her arms as they both drifted, searching for Jason in an entirely different way.

  Nausea made my stomach clench and roll with unease. Dani was glowing again—a soft champagne-colored halo that illuminated her as she slept. I squeezed my eyes shut. Pull it together, Zoe. I probably needed more sleep, but not now, not when every time I closed my eyes I saw the void in my dad’s eyes all over again and pictured Jason’s childhood room, barren and lonely as I stood inside of it, waiting for him to come home. Pull it together.

  Knowing I needed to get out of the cottage, out of the confines of Jason’s house and away from Dani, I snuck out through the front door and headed outside. Of their own accord, my feet followed my dad’s path, and I made my way into the barn.

  My dad had barely spoken to me the previous day, when I’d tried to talk to him. He was in complete denial that Jason was anything other than okay, holed up somewhere and waiting for us to find him. At least, that was the façade everyone else saw. But everyone else couldn’t sense the truth, not like me. Deep down, my dad wasn’t so sure
of anything. He knew that whatever had happened, our family would be forever changed—that there would be another irreparable hole inside him he could never fill.

  I took my time crossing the driveway, needing to collect myself before we found ourselves standing in silence, both trying to be strong when all we really wanted was to wake up from the nightmare that had become our lives. I wanted him to talk to me; I needed him to. I needed his reassurance that he was going get through this, but I was in no hurry to drum up everything I’d been trying to keep contained over the past seven days, that I’d been trying to keep manageable.

  What worried me most was that my dad was supposed to be resting, but when a steady hammering emanated from inside the barn, it was clear rest wasn’t something he wanted. Woodworking helped calm him down and let him think beyond his emotions, that much I knew about him. He’d always been that way. Jason, too.

  A slight breeze picked up, sending a flood of chills over my skin despite the warmth of the sun. I stepped into the workshop, stopping a couple yards behind my dad in the shadows of the rafters and the hanging tools and contraptions adorning them. I watched as he pounded with more force than was necessary—over and over—on the frame of a large oak cabinet. When he was done with the hammering, he tore off a piece of sandpaper and went to scrubbing the raw wooden surface with even more fervor.

  I bit at the inside of my cheek. For some reason, my tethers of strength were shredded at the realization that my dad and Jason were more alike than they’d ever admit.

  My dad sanded harder and more furiously, desperation pinching his features into a scowl.

  “Dad,” I said quietly.

  Lost. He was lost and grasping onto what little sanity remained, I could feel his desperation turning into fear and anguish and rage. I called his name again, but he didn’t stop or slow. It was like he hadn’t registered I was in the room at all. His graying hair fell into his eyes, and sweat beaded on his brow. Purposely or not, he was shutting me out, just like he’d always done.