“Are you cold?”
Tristan moved to put an arm around me, and I automatically flinched. “Don’t do that.”
He blinked. “What? I was just—”
I stood up, trembling from head to toe as goose bumps popped up all over my skin. “You can’t tell me you can’t be with me and then keep doing things like that. It’s not fair, Tristan,” I said, my voice cracking.
He stood up and faced me, so close that our bare toes touched. My chest radiated heat with each pained thump of my heart. I crossed my arms over my stomach, holding on to myself for dear life.
Focus, Rory. Focus.
“Rory—”
“No,” I said. “Please, Tristan. Just…don’t.”
He took a tiny step backward, and it was all the incentive I needed. I raced up the steps and across the deck, slamming the kitchen door behind me. Only when I was safely inside did I look back. And Tristan still stood alone in the sand at the bottom of the steps.
Watching.
My next
Running. Running was good. Running cleared my head. It upped my endorphins. It made me feel positive, like everything was going to be all right. Until I came around a turn into the center of town and saw the mayor’s big, imperious mansion staring down at me, and a pulse of fear stopped me cold.
How could one person be allowed to wield so much power? If she could send people to Oblivion without even consulting with anyone else, what was to stop her from banishing every person who disagreed with her? Every person who looked at her wrong? Every person who wore a pair of ripped jeans or stepped on a flower or littered?
I jogged over to the general store and paused under the shade of its blue-and-white-striped awning. Bracing my hands against my knees, I gazed up at the turrets, the wraparound porch, the paned windows, and wondered what she was doing in there right now. Was she wiping someone else’s memory? Deciding the fate of some poor Lifer?
Chill, Rory, I told myself, standing up straight again. Tristan said it was only in extreme situations. There’s nothing to worry about.
The wind shifted, and I automatically looked at the weather vane. The fog had come and gone about an hour earlier, when my dad and I had been out on the back deck barbecuing burgers for lunch, and the vane was now pointing south. I wondered which unlucky soul had been ushered to the Shadowlands—and was thankful I had not been the one to do it.
Another stiff breeze yanked a rotten peach from a nearby tree, and it rolled to a stop at my feet. A fat black worm poked its head out of a slimy brown bruise in the peach’s flesh. I grimaced and kicked the peach as hard as I could into the brush at the end of the sidewalk.
Taking a deep breath, I reached back for my ankle to stretch my quads. On the far side of the park, I saw the man whom Dorn had shaken hands with the other night jog up the steps of the library and duck inside. I lowered my foot and reached my arms back to open my chest. Kevin came around the side of the library, glanced quickly over his shoulder, and went in. He was soon followed by Dorn. Then Bea. I dropped my arms, curiosity tingling at the base of my skull. Sure enough, two seconds later, the door of the police station opened and Fisher and Joaquin appeared, toting two heavy bags each. They turned right and headed straight for the library.
I narrowed my eyes, my heart pounding furiously. What were they up to? I reached back to stretch my other quad and lost my balance.
“Gotcha!”
Aaron stepped up onto the sidewalk from the street and grabbed my arm. The second we touched, I had a flash. Aaron on a plank floor, crawling for the window, his fingernails digging into the wood while flames and smoke engulfed him. He reached for the windowsill, red and blue lights throbbing outside, knowing that if he could just get to his knees, if he could just signal someone… He tried to breathe, but his throat was closed, his lungs turned inside out. Someone outside was screaming his name. He collapsed on the floor and shut his eyes, sputtering, choking, gone.
“Hey! Are you okay?”
I blinked, my eyes bleary, until Aaron’s handsome face came into focus. His smiling, innocent, sweetly clueless face. I sucked in a breath and coughed, doubling over.
“Rory?” he asked, patting my back and sounding alarmed. “Rory? Talk to me. What just happened?”
I shook my head at the bricks beneath our feet, trying not to sob out loud. I heaved in a loud breath and stood up straight, reaching for his shoulder to steady myself, but then recoiled in fear of another flash and grabbed one of the columns supporting the awning instead. My leather bracelet slipped from my sweaty wrist toward my elbow.
“I don’t know,” I gasped. “I just…got dizzy.”
“Are you okay? Maybe we should go inside for some water,” Aaron suggested. “Or ice cream. It’s on me.”
I stared at him, trying not to let the horror and sadness shine through. “Sure,” I said, mostly just to make him stop being so solicitous, so I could think and regroup. “I just need to stretch some more. I’ll meet you inside.”
“You sure you’re okay?” Aaron asked again, his brown eyes concerned. He reached out to squeeze my shoulder and I flinched, holding my breath, but this time, nothing happened. I stayed right where I was, in this world, with the breeze blowing fresh air all around us, the low hum of conversation emanating from inside the restaurant.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I swear.”
“Okay. I’ll get a table.” He strolled inside to the sound of jingling bells and was finally, mercifully gone. I walked to the corner, out of sight of the windows, and covered my mouth with one hand.
Poor Aaron. He’d been so alone. So scared. So desperate. Someone as amazing as he was shouldn’t have had to die that way. No one should ever have to die that way.
Suddenly a hand came down on my shoulder, and I jumped, whirling around. It was Krista, wearing her waitress uniform, a pencil tucked behind one ear.
“You okay? I saw you through the window and I thought you were going to pass out.”
“Yeah, I almost did.” I checked to make sure we were alone. The couple I’d seen get off the ferry yesterday skated by holding hands, and Yoga Girl was back in the park, executing a perfect handstand. “Just now when Aaron touched me, I got the most vivid flash of the way he died.”
“Oh, yeah. That,” Krista said, with a sigh. “That sucked when I first got here. I mean, it always sucks, but the first few times were awful.”
“What the hell was it?” I asked.
Two crows swooped over and perched on the back of one of the outdoor chairs. A third joined them, forcing them to bounce sideways and adjust their talons on the wrought iron bar.
“That’s what happens when you touch the next person you’re going to usher,” Krista told me, twisting her long blond ponytail around her finger. “Since their death is something they can’t tell you about themselves, it gets ‘revealed to you,’” she added, throwing in some air quotes. “It lets you better understand them so you can help them through whatever they need to get through.”
I barely heard a thing after the words next person you’re going to usher.
“Wait a minute,” I said to Krista, waving my hands in front of me. “Wait a minute, wait a minute. Are you telling me that my next charge is…Aaron?”
Krista bit her bottom lip. “Looks that way,” she said. “I’m really sorry.”
The door behind her opened, and Joaquin’s “grandmother,” Ursula, stuck her head out. “Krista, hon? You got orders up.”