I heard the screaming first. And then I saw her—Hunter. And she was covered in blood.
I burst into the dark and dusty room. The furniture was worn thin, the wallpaper was peeling from the walls, and the smell was overwhelming. I put my hand over my mouth, tried not to vomit.
Hunter’s face contorted in pain. “Help me! Help me!” she wailed.
I couldn’t move.
A round woman wearing an apron rushed past me carrying a knife. It was covered in blood as well. I wondered if she had hurt Hunter, or was somehow trying to fix her.
A man paced at the foot of the bed. He was tall, blond, and really attractive. He was wearing an old-fashioned suit, like a young Sherlock Holmes. He lunged at Hunter, and I opened my mouth to scream, but she beat me to it.
A river of blood rolled, bubbling, across the floor. When the rounded edge of dark red hit the tip of my shoe, I passed out. The last thing I heard before everything went black was more screaming. Hunter’s voice was now silent.
The screaming was from a new baby.
Bam! Bam! Bam! I heard the pounding in my dream, but I couldn’t wake up.
Bam! Bam! Bam! I begrudgingly opened my eyes, and realized someone was knocking on my door. My grandmother burst into the room.
“I’m sorry to wake you, Maren dear. But I just couldn’t wait any longer. It’s after three . . .” She threw my curtains open. Sunlight spilled over my face.
“It’s after three? Three what?” I mumbled.
“Three in the afternoon,” she answered. “You’ve been sleeping so soundly, and I know you probably need it after your trip, but . . .” She paused, looking like she’d rather eat nails than continue her sentence.
“But what?” I asked, pushing the hair out of my face.
She crossed the room and sat down next to me, putting an arm around my shoulder. I immediately tensed up. Something was wrong.
“There’s been an accident,” she said.
“An accident?” I was awake now. “Where? It’s not Grandpa, is it?”
“No, it’s Jo,” she said. “She fell out of a tree or some such thing. They’re not really sure. Her mum just called.”
“Oh my gosh, is she okay?” I jumped up and pulled a hoodie over my head so we could rush to see her.
“She’s dead, Maren.”
My grandmother’s words pierced me like spears of ice. “What?” I blinked.
“I’m afraid she’s dead. She broke her neck in the fall. There was nothing they could do.” Gran followed me and tried to hug me again. I wriggled away from her.
“No, she’s not. She’s fine,” I argued. “I just saw her this morning. She’s perfectly fine.”
“It’s a terrible shock, I know.”
“She’s not dead,” I repeated. “She’s not dead.”
My grandmother finally caught hold of me, and held my hand. “I’m so sorry, Maren.”
“What do you mean, ‘she fell’? How could she fall? Where was she?”
“Mrs. Dougall said they didn’t really know. Jo had just gotten out of the hospital, and said she was feeling cooped up, so she went for a little walk to get some fresh air. One of the Crowleys found her lying in their field down the road. She had a small branch in her hand, so they think she must have climbed up a tree to fetch it, and lost her balance.”
“She wouldn’t have lost her balance,” I said. “She was like a gymnast. She wouldn’t have.”
“It doesn’t take a very far fall, Maren, if you land wrong. It’s such a shame. She was a lovely girl, and I know how much she meant to you.”
“Stop talking about her in the past tense!” I screamed. “She isn’t gone! I’m telling you, she’s fine! There must be a mistake!”
It didn’t make any sense. Why would she climb a tree to get a stupid branch? And the Crowleys’ place? They raised cows. Their land was mostly wide-open meadow. I thought about Jo standing in a meadow surrounded by wildflowers. A shadow overhead. My dream at Magnificat!
My stomach cramped, forcing me to bend over. I knew Jo hadn’t fallen out of a tree. She’d been dropped to her death by a demon. Like my mother. Like the girl from Culloden. But why? Who had done it? Gavin said the killing demons were gone . . .
I realized that the race to save Jo had nothing to do with her being poisoned. I had dreamed about her falling, I’d been warned, and once again, I’d done nothing about it. I’d gotten back from London in time, but I still hadn’t been able to save her.
I collapsed on the bed and sobbed until I thought I might die. Hopefully, someone would be able to save me.
My grandmother was right. Jo was dead. Within the hour, the whole town knew about it. There was no pretending anymore.
School was cancelled for two days so everyone could attend her service the following day, and then meet with grief counselors.
My grandfather was gone on a long-planned, two-day golf outing up at St. Andrews—a reunion of his golf team from high school. He called to ask if he should come home, but we told him not to. What was the point? Him missing his trip wasn’t going to make anything better.
My grandmother kept checking on me. She was worried, because in less than two months I’d lost my mom and my best friend. She wanted to make sure I knew it had nothing to do with me, that it wasn’t my fault, and that these things “just happen.” Assure me I had no reason to feel cursed. Check that I was coping.
Regardless of what she said, or my conversation about guilt with Gia, I knew it was my fault. It had everything to do with me. I was cursed, and I wasn’t coping.
I sat on my window seat for hours, numb. I mashed my face against the cool, leaded windowpane and waited. Gavin was supposed to be back by now. Where is he? Can’t he hear my broken heart?
Then I saw someone walking up the lane toward our house—a guy too fair and slender to be Gavin. He looked up at our house, and I pulled back as if I’d been caught spying.
It was Graham. Why is he coming here? I hadn’t seen him since he’d saved me from his predator of a cousin, and I was kind of hoping never to run into him again. No one else had seen what he had seen. Images of Anders in the cold, stone fountain house made my head throb.
I peeked through the window. Graham had stopped at our mailbox. He removed his jacket, laid it carefully over the rounded metal box, leaned back, and then kicked it with the flat bottom of his foot. When he retrieved his coat, there was a huge dent in the side of the mailbox, and the door was hanging open, unhinged. What the heck is he doing?
I got downstairs just as my grandmother was answering the door. When I saw him, embarrassment pushed every other thought out of my mind. I was mortified at the position I’d been in that last time I’d seen him, but felt like I owed him . . . my life, maybe.
“Hi,” I said, giving him a short wave from my hip.
He held out a bouquet of flowers. “I brought you these,” he said. “I thought you might need some cheering up, considering. We sent an arrangement to Jo’s family, naturally—but I think everyone else who knew and loved her could use some of the same, especially you.” His polite awkwardness was charming.
“Thanks,” I said, taking them. They were pretty, but I didn’t want to see pretty. I wasn’t feeling pretty. I let my hand fall to my side, clutching the flowers near my knee. I forced my mouth to smile, and half succeeded.
“I was also wondering if you might do me the honor of accompanying me to the yearend ceilidh next week. I’m sure you’re just getting settled back in from your . . . ah, trip, but I wanted to be the first in line before someone else snatched you up.”
“You’re inviting me to a dance?” Is he freaking serious? I’d just learned that my best friend had died, and he was in my house, on the very same day, asking me out on a date?
He nodded, oblivious to his terrible timing. “Yes, the ceilidh. I’d like to be your escort.”
I may have felt obliged to him, but not enough to agree to something like that on a day like this. “Um, I don’t think I’m going actually. I . . .” I looked at my grandmother, searching for an excuse. “I’m going with Gran to . . .”
Thankfully, my grandmother picked up on my silent distress call. “She’s got to come with me to see her aunt Margaret in Raigmore. It’s her birthday, and we’ve planned a little family get-together. Maren was terribly disappointed when I told her it was the same night as the ceilidh, but it’s family. You understand.”
Graham looked crushed, and I did feel a little sorry for him. I wondered if he’d already asked any other girls at school and been turned down. Even though he was perfectly well-mannered and charming, it must be hard to be the “ugly duckling” to Anders’ strapping swan.
“Oh, of course,” he said, shuffling his feet. “I hope you have good weather for the drive. Give your aunt my best.”
My phone rang upstairs. “Thanks for the flowers,” I said before I turned to fetch it. My grandmother opened the door a bit wider, a cue it was time for him to go. I heard them talking about our mailbox as I ran up the stairs. Hopefully, he was apologizing for kicking it in.
It was my grandfather on the phone, checking on me for the tenth time. While I assured him I was fine, I watched Graham walk away from our house. As soon as he was out of sight, and I set down my phone, Gavin landed with a thump right in front of me on the roof. I jumped at the sudden noise, then threw the window open.
When he climbed inside, I reached my arms around his neck and buried my head against his shoulder. I was overcome at seeing him. It felt like I didn’t have anyone left in the world. Hunter was gone forever. Jo was dead. All I had was Gavin, and I’d convinced myself he wasn’t coming back either. The relief at being able to hold on to him, to feel his strong arms around me, was overwhelming. A floodgate cracked open somewhere inside me, and the tears gushed from my eyes, soaking his shirt.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he said as he stroked my hair.
“Everything!” I sobbed. “Jo’s dead!” As he held me, I told him what had happened.
“I’m so sorry, Maren,” he said. “I know you loved her like a sister.”
“I loved her more than a sister,” I moaned. “People fight with their sisters and steal their clothes and stuff. She was never anything but wonderful to me. And I failed her!”
“It’s not your fault,” he said. “You got her the antidote in time. You’re a hero in my book, and hers as well. But it was just her time. You can’t save everyone.”
“I can’t save anyone,” I cried, letting the flood of hopelessness carry me away. I crumpled onto the floor. Gavin bent down with me.
“Shhh, it’s a’right,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. Everything’s going to be a’right.”
“No, it’s not,” I argued, raking my hands through the hair at my temples. “Nothing with me is ever all right! I’m so tired of losing things and people. My house, my parents. I lose everything.”
“You’ve not lost me.” He wrapped his arms around me and kissed the top of my head. “I’m here, Maren. I’ll always be here.”
His strong embrace and soothing words parted the clouds around my heart, if only for a moment.