“Help!” I scream, willing someone, anyone, to hear me. Fear, just when I need him most, is far away. I rush through a line of bushes and some twigs scratch the vulnerable skin of my legs. There it is! The lot appears before me, open and empty. My truck in the corner, urging me onward.
The sound of the man somewhere behind vanishes, and then he’s suddenly landing in front of me in the end of a giant leap. He exaggerates the swing in his arms, panting wildly, mocking. The veins in his eyes are huge. “What are you going to do?” he gasps. Then, just as swiftly as he evolved into this wild creature, he straightens, smoothing his hair and pulling at his shirt cuffs. “Shall we proceed?” he asks. “Or will you insist on trying that again?”
It’s as I stand there, helpless—more desperate possibilities and disorienting panic whizzing through me—that I comprehend where I recognize his run from. The night of Sophia’s party, when I was rushing through the woods, trying to get to Joshua … there had been someone behind me. Following me. At the time I’d just assumed it was a kid trying to get to his car. But now I realize the truth. Is he what Rebecca was so worried about on the night of the party? Oh. Oh. She’d been protecting me all along.
And that isn’t all I remember. An image, like a blink or a flash, appears and vanishes. Burning eyes and a planted stance. That same tilted head. He was in the hallway at school. I remember now. He’d been staring at me with the same eyes he has now. Hungry eyes.
It’s as I’m putting these pieces together that the man asks me, so casually, “Are you her?”
The words slam into me over and over again. Are you her? Are you her? A scrawled sentence on a lined piece of paper. There’s a teasing lilt in the man’s voice; he’s mocking me. He wants me to know that the note was his.
“What do you want?” I ask, watching his every move warily.
“You know,” he says as if I haven’t spoken, “you’re really a fascinating creature. You never responded to all the games we played. No one has done that before.”
Creature. Not girl. He thinks I’m from the other plane. “You’ve made a mistake,” I say, backing away. “I’m just a human. I’m normal.”
He smiles again, advancing. “Oh, so wrong. You’re far from human. We have a history, young lady. I’ve been looking for you for a long, long time. You had me fooled. You and that Emotion.”
Even more comes together, suddenly, in my head. It’s so obvious that I wonder why I didn’t figure it out the instant I laid eyes on him.
There are some things humans shouldn’t know. Even a human like you.
He’s here, he’s here! Run before he gets you, gets you!
This man—no, not man, something else entirely—is what has all the Emotions and Elements running. He got me, I think faintly. But he shouldn’t be after me. I’m not one of them. “What do you want?” I ask again, backing away, down the hill.
As an answer, his bottomless eyes flare to red. “Where is she?” he purrs.
No. No, it isn’t possible. But the truth is staring me right in the face. Nausea grips my stomach. You killed me. Where is she? You did this. You ruined us. I trip on my own heel and fall to the ground. My fingers burrow into the grass, into the soil, as if I’m on a ride that won’t stop spinning. All the sleepless nights, the haunting dreams that felt so real … it was him. Never the boy, reaching out to me, begging me to know his story. No ghosts, as I’d secretly believed, no revelations of the past. Just the ugliness of this creature using and twisting my own mind against me.
“What are you?” I say, past the ragged air struggling in and out of my lungs. He approaches and leans over me, bringing that weird scent with him, and it’s in that instant that I realize what that underlying smell is.
Old blood.
“Don’t you know yet?” he breathes in my ear. When I don’t—can’t—answer, he whispers, his lips moving against my skin, “I’m Nightmare.”
I stare up at him, frozen. He’s silent now, waiting for me to speak. He’s a hole of quiet and malicious intent, and I have no idea what he’s capable of. This is most dangerous of all.
The questions don’t matter. I scramble to my feet and run again.
He lets me go. “I saw you save the boy when he was about to get hit by that truck!” Nightmare calls. He hasn’t moved. “There’s no way any normal human could have gotten to him so—”
The Element halts midsentence. Breathing violently, I glance over my shoulder and stumble. Fear stands between me and death. I can only see his back, his white hair curling on his neck. Nightmare doesn’t say a word. He’s looking at Fear with that pleased, ravenous expression.
“Go!” Fear shouts to me. Crouched, his body tensed, he doesn’t take his eyes off Nightmare. “Don’t look back, Elizabeth! Keep going!” he orders.
I obey without any more indecision, and the wind rushes past my ears. But at the sound of Fear crying out, I falter. I can’t just leave him. I spin to help …
But I’m too late. Fear is crumpled on the ground, blood gushing between his fingers, from his middle. He struggles to stand up again, but the Element laughs and knees him in the face. Fear hits the ground. Nightmare stands over him, holding a long, wicked-looking knife. It’s red all the way down to the hilt. Dripping.
Nightmare looks up, sees that I’m staring at his knife. He smiles. “Didn’t he tell you to keep running?” he calls to me as if we’re comrades, waving the scarlet blade back and forth. “We aren’t indestructible to each other, you know.”
I’m frozen again. Fear rolls his head back, his cheek scraping on the cement, and he sees that I’ve stopped. “Go,” he chokes, his eyes wilder than I’ve ever seen them.
Instinct takes over, and I find myself running once more. Behind me, I hear Nightmare make a sound of amusement deep in his throat before he’s flying through the air again. He gives me a hard shove as he lands. I fall forward and throw my palms out to try to soften the blow. The skin on my hands shrieks at me as it tears, and then my face hits the hard ground. Black dots dance before my eyes, and I’m dizzy, so dizzy. Nightmare’s shoes appear in my line of vision, and a moment later his voice sounds in my ear.
“It was ironic,” he whispers. He brushes my hair back like a father would his child. “Those mewling humans chained you up and left you there, a fruit ripe for the plucking. Not to mention you brought a friend. Two birds with one stone. This is my lucky day. By the way,” he adds, “the battery is behind the front left tire of your truck. I dare you to try and get it.”
“Elizabeth!”
I would know that voice anywhere. It races through every part of me, filling all the corners with light, tearing apart the strong cobwebs inside my soul. Nightmare’s shoes vanish. That fetid smell is gone. And then Joshua’s actually there, holding me, rocking me, a cell phone pressed against his ear. “Fear?” I manage to ask, my voice so faint that Joshua doesn’t hear it.
“Yeah, I need an ambulance. In front of Edson High. Someone has hurt Elizabeth Caldwell pretty badly. Yeah. Okay.”
I’m barely aware of any of it. All I know is that when I lift my head, indistinctly anxious that the Element will come back, he’s gone. And so is Fear. I think I call his name again.
But Joshua’s here. And he’s whispering in my hair, telling me that everything is going to be all right, he’s not going to leave me, I’m safe now, I’m safe.
The moon is full in the sky when the girl emerges from the house. She closes the door as softly as she can, glancing around to make sure no one’s watching. When she’s certain that there’s nothing but the howling wind and the disapproving stars, she runs. The woods aren’t far, and as soon as she plunges into their cover a tall figure steps out from behind a tree.
“Rebecca.”
She gasps, whirling, and presses a hand to her chest. When she sees who it is her eyes narrow. “Don’t do that,” she snaps.
Fear grins back, unrepentant. Rebecca smiles back reluctantly. Coy now, she puts her hands behind her back and sways. She’s w
earing nothing but a tank top and boxer shorts. Fear’s gaze flicks up and down, and she has trouble releasing the air in her lungs when his pupils dilate.
“Like what you see?” she tries to tease, but the breathless quality to her voice ruins the effect. Fear reaches for her wordlessly, but she quickly bounces away, laughing. The Emotion stalks her across the clearing, his long coat flaring. Just as she darts to the left to escape, he snatches her hands. Her struggle is half-hearted, and she lets him tug her to him despite the way his touch makes her heart pound and her palms sweat.
Embracing her, Fear’s lips skim Rebecca’s collarbone, hot and cold all at once. She gasps, throwing her head back. Her eyes latch onto the night, but she hardly notices the velvet expanse of galaxy. Somehow they’re on the ground. Fear is kissing her everywhere now, her arm, the spot beside her belly button, her thigh, her calf, the bottom of her foot, back up to her cheek, her breast, and finally, finally her mouth. He’s so tender, but she’s impatient. She’s hungry for him. She wraps her legs around his waist.
He gasps her name as she pulls him closer, forcing the kiss into something more powerful. She loves his taste—strawberries and horror. She loves his eyes-nose-lips-cheeks. Their passion consumes them, and they drown in each other as they tumble in more sweat and ragged gasps. The grass is wet on their skin; dew permeates the dark.
“Don’t go tonight,” the girl whispers, her eyes sparkling with abandon and adoration. Her long dark hair drapes down her back and Fear smooths it away, kissing her shoulder. His mouth is soft.
“I love you,” he says simply. The girl cups his cheek with her palm, smiling. She doesn’t need to say the words—her uneven breathing says it all. He grins at her in return, a slow, sensual, loving smile. They clasp each other close once again, sinking back into the grass.
“I just want to run a few more tests. It’s always better to be safe than—”
“No, it’s not necessary. She’ll be fine. You said yourself, you’ve never seen anyone recover so quickly.”
“Yes, but her blood cells are nothing I’ve—”
“I said no, Dr. Pruett. Now please give me some time alone with her.”
When my eyelids flutter open and I take in the smooth white ceiling above me, I’m instantly aware that the power has realigned itself and stands strong once again. My nothingness is back in place, blocking any Emotion that should try to come my way. It takes me a moment to recall all that’s happened. I can’t conjure any excitement at the fact there’s one more piece added to the puzzle: Rebecca, the beautiful, angry, sad, mysterious girl that haunts me … Fear knew her. Fear loved her.
Oddly enough, my chest aches at the thought. Is Fear alive? Where is he? Only Nightmare knows.
My mind skitters away from thinking of him.
There’s a poster of a kitten taped to the ceiling. GET WELL SOON! it reads. Focusing on it, I wonder about the relevance of the feline.
“Are you awake?”
Sarah stands by my bed, staring down at me. She looks tired. There are bags under her eyes and there’s a slump to her shoulders that I—not Tim—have put there. She shoves her wispy hair out of the way and sighs. “Joshua is out in the waiting room. He’s been there all night.”
“Where are Tim and Charles?”
She plucks a Kleenex from the box next to my head, dabbing her eyes with it. They’re watery from exhaustion. “When they found out you’re going to be fine, they both left. Tim is at home, in the fields. Charles is at work, I think. He says if you’re better by the time you check out, you should come to the track and watch him race.” A rueful smile just barely crosses her lips.
“You should sit,” I tell her. She does, probably just be-cause her feet are aching and she doesn’t want to go home. The chair squeaks at her weight.
The hospital room I’m in reminds me of Maggie’s. Same beige paint, same curtains, same tiled floor, same cheap TV nailed to the wall. The thought of Maggie causes the newly fixed wall of nothingness to twinge.
I fold my hands on my stomach and face Sarah. I decide to be straight with her.
“You’re leaving tomorrow night.”
She gives a little jerk, her gaze darting to the doorway as if Tim will be standing there, glaring murderously at the two of us. “The doctor decided to keep you overnight for observation,” she informs me, unwilling to discuss it. “You only have some scrapes and bruises. You were weak for a while there, but they say you’re healing extraordinarily fast.” She purses her lips, concentrating on the floor. “Just like last time.” She says it so quietly I’m not sure she means for me to hear.
A pipe in the wall drips. A bird lands on the sill outside the window. We both look at the little creature. It’s a kind I’ve never seen before, all green and blue and black.
“They usually don’t make it this far north,” Sarah murmurs, her lined face suddenly alight with awe. “Especially this time of year.”
“What kind is it?” I shift to get a better angle of her.
She doesn’t take her eyes off the bird. It’s still there, washing itself, and I imagine images of the sky and of worms and eggs zipping through its little mind. “I’m pretty sure that’s a Green Jay,” Sarah tells me after another pause. “They live in Texas and some of the other southern states. They like the warm weather all year round.”
“How do you know so much?” The bird on the sill is staring back at us now with its beady black eyes, its little neck bent to the side. The pose makes me think of Nightmare again, and my stomach clenches.
Sarah swallows. The nervous action is audible. “It used to be a hobby of mine,” she replies softly.
It’s something I never knew about her. How bizarre that you can know someone your entire life, see their most hidden pains and hopes, and not know the tiniest detail about them. If I had done things differently, if she had been a slightly different person, if I had been a different person, maybe everything could have been better.
Careful, Elizabeth, it almost sounds like you’re regretting something, I can practically hear Fear say to me. But he’s not here. I don’t know if he will ever be back. An image of the desperation in his eyes, the blood spurting from that hole, shoves its way into my head. Shuddering, a bitter taste in my mouth, I focus on the bird. It’s fluffing its wings now, spreading them out, showing the bright colors off. Vain little thing. But it’s truly admirable, its stamina and determination. Few others would leave behind everything they knew to venture into the unknown. What was so different about this bird that it would abandon the warm breezes of Texas and fly hundreds of miles across the country, just to arrive here, at my window? What was the purpose? Just because it could?
“I’m going home.” Sarah’s announcement doesn’t surprise me, of course, but it does come out of nowhere, like she pulled it out of the air, magic.
I think about this. She isn’t venturing into the unknown, exactly, but she is taking flight. It seems unjust that no one will care, after everything she’s gone through. No one will tell her story. Not her, not Tim. A few in Edson may notice her absence and gossip about it for a while, but eventually, she’ll be forgotten. Maybe she wants it that way.
But I won’t forget.
She seems to expect me to say something. Words that will make her feel brave, that will make everything all right. I told her once that the past can’t be changed, but the future can. She married Tim, she lost the love of a daughter, she spent years in isolation and misery. But her story isn’t finished, and for once she’s picked up a pen.
“Go,” I say to her, smiling. It feels strange on my face, but the sight of it doesn’t frighten or embitter her. Sarah nods, slowly, hands tightly clasped. As I watch, her fingers unlatch, one by one, until they’re lying loosely in her lap.
Voices drift by the doorway, two nurses talking. Sarah glances toward them, then back at me. She nods to herself once more and stands. There’s a stain on her jeans that looks like gravy. “Owen’s men haven’t been able to find the person that at
tacked you. They’re still looking, I guess. They want to ask you some questions once you’ve recovered. I didn’t let the doctor run more blood tests on you,” she adds, like an afterthought. “I thought you might not want him to.”
I lie there. Parts of me are still tender, but somehow I know that I should hurt much, much more. You’ve healed, something in my head whispers. I don’t wonder at the implications of this. Not now, at least. “Thank you,” I say to Sarah.
She nods a third time. There’s not much else to say. Giving her the opportunity to slip away—I know she hates goodbyes—I look at the Green Jay again. It’s gotten bored with us and is observing some clouds with sharp attention.
The chair squeaks again, and Sarah leans over, setting her elbows on my bed. Together, we watch the Green Jay lift its wings and take flight, heading deeper into the unknown, to unbury all the secrets of a land it’s never seen.
He stands in the doorway, uncertain, quiet. There’s so much I should tell him, because somehow I sense my time is almost up. The clock is still ticking inside my head, a warning. I’m almost at the end of the road, an end I’ve been running to ever since I decided to seek out the truth. Was it ever a conscious decision? Did I ever have a choice in the matter, or does fate really control everything? There’s no telling what this end will look like, but I have a feeling that nothing—especially whatever this is between Joshua and me—will be the same.
You will need that boy in the end.
“You look better,” Joshua finally says, breaking the long stillness. He tugs at the hem of his T-shirt, an anxious movement. He looks a lot like Sarah; the shadows under his eyes, the drawn features. His hair is greasy and hanging in front of his eyes again.
“You can come in, you know.” I glance at the chair Sarah vacated a few minutes ago, but Joshua doesn’t move. He just stares at me as if he’s memorizing my features. He looks torn.
“I’m okay,” I say, and it’s the truth. My voice is normal, my minimal wounds are healing. Will Fear heal? Stop it, I tell myself flatly. But it takes a huge amount of effort to stop thinking about him.
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