Page 27

27

“I have to go,” I say. I’m already on my feet.

“Are you sure?” Mr. Vance asks. “You haven’t touched your coffee.”

It takes all my focus to turn the words into meaning and understand what he’s saying.

“I’d like you to take me back now,” I say firmly.

For a moment I’m afraid he will refuse. My paranoid mind flashes images of him blocking the door, of Duchess baring her teeth. But he only nods.

The UTV sits two people side by side. I climb into the passenger seat. Mr. Vance takes the driver’s side wordlessly. I grip the edge of the seat as it rumbles up the road and then onto the grounds, jouncing unevenly.

“This is fine,” I tell Mr. Vance when we’re close to the cabin, but not yet in view.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“I don’t want to wake Connor,” I say. He doesn’t point out that out here, there is nothing to compete with the rumble of the engine. That everyone will have heard it.

“If you insist.”

I climb down. He stays there with the UTV running, the headlights laying down a broad path for me to follow. For just a moment, I think that he’s going to call after me. But he only sits there, watching.

I’m beyond the lights now. The sound of the engine moves away. I’m alone in the dark, in the cold. I move forward, feeling as if I’m still being watched.

Mallory Cahill. Rowan Cahill.

Rowan, run.

I can almost hear her voice. I can almost see—

The girl runs. Back to the cabin. Back through the door with the dragonfly. Are there dragonflies here?

Maybe in the summer.

Will we see them then?

We can’t be here in the summer, Teddy Bear.

She runs up the stairs. Teddy Too is wedged between the bed and the wall, tucked down in the folds of the daisy bedspread. She has to be quick. Mama’s waiting.

She gets back to the car and she’s afraid Mama will be mad, but Mama isn’t there at all. There’s only the car and the open door.

The feet, sticking out. Mama is here. She’s sitting on the ground. That’s silly. The girl walks around the side of the car, ready to say boo or make a joke, because then Mama will laugh maybe and she doesn’t laugh very much anymore.

She is sitting in a funny way. Her back is against the car but she’s too far away from it, so she’s leaning. The red scarf is around her neck—

No. The scarf is blue.

The scarf is blue, and it’s in the girl’s hand. It’s being caught by the wind, floating down to the ground.

Red coats Mama’s neck, her throat. Not fabric, but blood. Her hand grabs at her neck.

“You have to run, Teddy,” she says. Her voice is strange. Like gargling. “You have to hide.”

The girl steps forward, shaking. Her teddy bear dangles from her hand.

Mama lets out a sob. “Rowan , run ,” she says, and flings out an arm like she’s pushing the girl away.

This is our castle. Nothing can hurt us here , Mama said when they came to the cabin. We’ll be safe there.

And so that’s where the girl runs. She’ll be safe there, like Mama promised.

Everything will be all right.

The breeze stirs a few stray hairs against my throat. It almost feels like the drip of liquid. I can see it now. The blood a wash across her neck. The panic in her eyes.

I move in a daze back to White Pine. I stand just inside the door, my breath a cacophony in my own ears. The memory is like a dream.

No, this place is the dream, and the memory is the only real thing.

Rowan, Rowan, Rowan , the woman’s voice says, but the name doesn’t fit any better than the others I’ve tried.

“I remember,” I whisper. It’s almost the truth.

The cabin is silent. If Connor woke at the sound of the engine, it wasn’t enough to get him up. I undress in the dark and walk to the bedroom. The door has no lock. I step in on quiet feet and he’s sprawled out on the bed, peaceful in his sleep. I slide under the blanket, lying with my back to him. He stirs. He reaches out with one arm, drawing me to him.

“I love you,” he mumbles against my neck. I’m not sure if he’s even awake.

“I love you, too,” I whisper, and it isn’t a lie. It’s a heat inside my chest, a blinding light that hasn’t dimmed. I love Connor Dalton the way I have since I first looked into his eyes, and that frightens me more than anything.

I’m not safe here. I should be smart. I should run. But if I do, I will never know what happened to me or to my mother.

And I will never know whether Connor truly loves me or if he is like his father in this way, too—

If he, too, is a monster.