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“Are we just not going to talk about the fact that Sara killed Vanessa?” Jeremy asks. “I mean, I’m sorry. I know this is a heavy moment. But Vanessa—”

“It wasn’t Vanessa,” I say.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“If she says it’s true, it’s true,” Trina says. I wish I felt as sure as she sounds.

“I—I don’t know,” I say. “Miranda asked who was holding her hand, and they were about to kill Trina, and—” I swallow. And then my stomach lurches. “Wait. Where is Miranda?”

We all look around like we’ll find her lurking behind a tree, like she’ll walk up behind us, fine and unhurt. But she’s nowhere.

“I grabbed Kyle’s hand,” Mel says. “Miranda was near you.” The hint of an accusation sharpens her tone.

“I just grabbed Anthony’s hand and ran,” I say.

“I was focused on getting Trina on her feet,” Jeremy says. “Oh,fuck.” Mel clamps a hand over her mouth, choking back a sob.

“She’s gone,” I say, because someone has to say it out loud.“She must have—the darkness must have taken her. Somehow.”

“Then we’ve lost two people in fifteen minutes,” Jeremy says, his anger snapping out squarely at me.

“But we got through,” Mel says. “Which means that either Vanessa was a secret ax murderer, or Sara was right. That wasn’t Vanessa.”

“Or they didn’t care who they killed,” Jeremy says.

“We can check,” Kyle says suddenly. We look at him. He pulls out his phone, the movement and the downward tilt of his face a poor effort to conceal the tears on his cheeks. “I was recording when Trina and I went into the dark. I kept the video going. It should have caught Vanessa coming through.”

A shudder of mingled relief and dread goes through me. And then Kyle’s face crumples into despair.

“Crap. The battery’s dead,” he says.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jeremy says.

“I’ve been taking videos and stuff on and off for like six hours,” Kyle says. “It was already in the red when we went into the town the first time. I’m sorry.”

“Hold on,” Mel says. “I have a portable charger. Give it to me.” She rummages in her backpack, pulling out the battery pack, and takes Kyle’s phone from him. Too eagerly—everyone desperate for some action to focus on to bleed off our despair. And then she swears. “Do you have the charger cord? With a USB?”

“No, I left it at home,” Kyle says.

She sighs. “Then we’re fucked. Mine has a different jack.”

“Then all we have is Sara’s hunch,” Jeremy says.

“Does it matter if she was right or not?” Trina asks, voice flat. “Either way, she’s gone. Miranda is gone. It’s just the six of us now. Knowing what happened wouldn’t change that. It wouldn’t change anything.”

“She’s right,” Anthony says. Jeremy looks at me, and I stare back. Because the two of us know it isn’t true. Of course it changes things.

Either I’m a murderer, or I’m not. And now I might never know.

Mel holds the dead phone out to Kyle, but he’s wandered over to Trina, who is staring down at the book in her hands as if she’s not sure what to do with it. Mel tucks the phone and charger into her bag instead.

“What did he say to you?” I ask Trina. “Why did he give you the book?” It seems like such a trivial question, after what’s just happened.

“‘Arm yourself, child, for there are trials yet to come,’” she recites. She opens the book to the first page. The writing is spidery, the ink brown.The words to unmake, it reads at the top, and then a spill of cramped script, growing like thorns across the page. Trina turns the page, then another, her lips just barely moving as she reads.

“What does it say?” Anthony asks.

“It’s talking about the ocean,” she says, sounding distant, almost dreamy. “And Ys, and Dahut, and the gates. The stars, and something behind the stars. The earth and what’s below. Things waiting. Things unseen. It—” She stops. Snaps it shut. “It’s justa bunch of nonsense,” she says. She looks around as if she’s trying to decide on a place to discard it. Finally she tucks it under her arm, shrugs. “Maybe it’ll have something useful in it.”