Endless (Shadowlands) (16 page)

So the creepy twins are going in to see the mayor again. I wish I could be a fly on the wall for that particular conversation. I can’t decide whether those two are friends or foes. They ask too many questions—that’s for sure—and questions are usually a bad thing for a person in my position. But then again, if they ask too many questions of the wrong person, perhaps that person will crack and tell them the truth. That would damn them to the Shadowlands, and if I could claim them to my tally, I’d be so much closer to my goal.

I wonder if any of my so-called friends will be stupid enough to talk. There are a few who might be that dense. Maybe I should get them drunk and see if that loosens their tongues a bit. Then I could be done with this mission by the end of the day. As long as it’s not Rory. She’s got another purpose to serve in this. A much bigger purpose.

Tristan put the car in park and killed the engine. The windows were down, and now that we’d stopped moving, the warm, muggy air filled the space between us. He’d stopped with the nose of his SUV near the cliff where I’d once seen Joaquin, Fisher, and half a dozen other Lifers jump over the edge, to prove to me that they couldn’t die. It was the same night I’d confronted Nadia for the first time. Back then I’d thought she hated me because Tristan liked me. I’d thought she was just angry, jealous, and mean.

Now I realized she’d been terrified, pulsating with fear over the world she knew and loved crumbling around her. She was right to be afraid, and now she was gone.

“I can’t get used to it,” Tristan said, leaning forward to look up at the sky through the windshield. “That blanket of fog? For the first time since I arrived here, it really does feel like another world.”

“That’s never happened before?” I asked, fiddling with the zipper on my blue hoodie.

“No. This is new.”

His hands slipped down the sides of the steering wheel and came to rest awkwardly in his lap. He caught me watching them and laughed quietly.

“You have no idea how much I want to touch you,” he
said.

My heart turned cartwheels. “Why don’t you?”

He turned to me, his clear-blue gaze seeking something inside my eyes. “Because I don’t know if you want me to.”

I swallowed hard. “Tristan—”

“Hang on a sec,” he said. “Just let me talk.”

I nodded, unzipping my sweatshirt and tugging it free of my arms. The world suddenly felt stifling.

“When I was on the run…hiding out there…knowing everyone I’d ever cared about was hunting me down…I never once thought about myself,” Tristan said. “I never thought about what might happen to me. What they would do to me if they found me. All I ever thought about was you.”

A bubble welled up inside my throat, and I gulped it back, determined not to interrupt him.

“All that matters to me anymore is what you think of me,” Tristan said. “And that you’re happy. That you’re okay. I spent every single night I was gone on that bridge, trying to figure out how to get the damn door or the portal or whatever it is that leads to the Shadowlands to open. Every single night. I wanted to get your dad back for you. Get Aaron back. I didn’t even care if you ever found out that I was the one who saved them. I just wanted it done. For you.”

I took a breath. A single tear spilled down my cheek. He reached up and touched his palm to it.

“I’m sorry that I failed you,” he said.

I let out this weird noise. It was somewhere between a laugh—because how could he be apologizing to me?—and a sob—because there was so much emotion inside me that I couldn’t help but release it. I reached up and held on to his forearm like I was clinging to life.

“Did you find anything?” I asked him desperately. “Anything that could help us?”

His hand dropped from my face and he held my fingers lightly between us, looking down, touching each of my fingertips in turn with the pad of his thumb. He shook his head.

“It’s scary on that bridge. There are these voices—”

“You heard them, too?” I asked.

He blinked and stopped his fidgeting. “Wait. You went over the bridge?”

I nodded. “The other day. I was trying to find you. Or find a way in. I don’t know. But I thought I heard…” I trailed off, too embarrassed to continue.

“What? Who?” he asked, breathless. “Who did you hear?”

I gulped. “My mom. And Steven Nell.” I shuddered now, remembering it, and sat back in the seat, staring out over the wide blue ocean. “I thought I was going insane.”

“You weren’t. I mean, you’re not. I heard them, too. People I knew in life, souls who came through here a hundred years ago who I’d almost forgotten. It was like they were trying to talk to me, or about me. Almost like they were laughing at me.”

“Exactly.” I pressed my lips together and shivered. “If it’s that awful on the bridge, Tristan…then what’s it like in the Shadowlands?”

His expression darkened, and I knew he was feeling the same pain I was. This island and the purpose he served meant more to him than anything. It must have been killing him to know that everything had gone wrong, that innocent people were suffering.

“We’re going to get them back, Rory. I swear. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll get them back for you.”

“But how?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Not yet. But I know there’s an answer.”

He shifted in his seat, squinting out at the blanket of fog. There was something brighter about the color of the sky. It was more purple than gray, contrasting sharply with the swirling mist overhead. I took a deep breath.

“You’ve always said there’s no way to get into the Shadowlands. Not for us,” I ventured.

“Yeah?” he said.

“But what if there was?” I asked. “If I had a tainted coin—”

“What? No. No way.”

“You don’t know that I can’t,” I shot back. “I can’t know unless I try.”

“Yeah, maybe. But how the hell would you get back out?” Tristan demanded.

“I’d find a way,” I said, turning in my seat to face him, my pulse thrumming in my wrists. “There has to be a way.”

“No way. There’s no chance,” Tristan said. “I am not going to let you risk your eternal soul.”

“But what about—”

“No. Rory. No. I can’t lose you,” Tristan said, grabbing my arm. “I don’t think I can exist here without you. Not anymore. You’re everything to me—do you understand that? Everything.”

I leaned forward, pressing my forehead to his. “Tristan—”

“Don’t leave me, Rory,” he whispered, his breath warm and sweet on my face. His fingers reached up and cupped my jaw, entangling themselves in my hair. “Promise me you’ll never leave me.”

I couldn’t speak. But I looked into his eyes, so very close to mine, and I nodded. I nodded my promise until his lips met mine.

I hadn’t known exactly how I would react to Tristan’s kiss until this moment, but now, suddenly, I knew that I had to kiss him back with everything I had. His lips were dry and tasted of salt and something rich and warm. I felt myself start to fold into him, my whole body sighing in relief. I was home. I was home. I was home. This was where I belonged. I knew it. He knew it. I was pretty sure the entire universe knew it. So this time, I didn’t pull away. I didn’t think about anyone else but him. I just let him kiss me and kiss me and kiss me, until he finally came up for air.

“God, I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too.”

He was cupping my neck with both of his hands, and I had somehow gathered the fabric of his T-shirt up in my fists until most of his perfect six-pack was exposed. Looking into my eyes, Tristan smiled contentedly.

“Check it out.”

“What?” I asked.

He turned my face to look out the windshield and I saw it. Five perfect beams of light busting through the fog ceiling, casting an incredible, ethereal glow on the ocean waves below. It was beautiful.

“The sun!” I gasped.

Tristan laughed. “The sun.”

Tristan cranked up the stereo—some ancient tune about summer in the city—and we headed back to town with the windows down. With one hand on the wheel and the other clutching mine, Tristan looked like himself again—like the beautiful, beach-town boy I’d fallen in love with—if only slightly less tan. Suddenly the bumps and divots in the road didn’t seem so much ominous as entertaining, showing us a bouncing, rollicking good time.

With Tristan’s hand in mine, I knew that everything really was going to be okay. He would never give up until my father and Darcy were freed. We’d figure it out together, come up with a plan, and save them. There was no longer any doubt in my mind. When Tristan said he was going to do something, he did it.

He parked the SUV near the town square and we could already see that everyone else in Juniper Landing had been inspired with the same idea. People strolled the sidewalks, stopping to chat with one another over the abrupt change in weather, or simply tipping their faces toward the sun. A couple of guys had already whipped out a Frisbee and were busy running and leaping through the wet grass, laughing as one of them skidded on his shoulder like the world was his own personal Slip’N Slide. Liam and Lalani stood at the edge of the general store’s striped awning, leaning into opposite sides of a column, not quite touching but smiling privately. There were bikers and skateboarders, joggers and gossipers. Some guy I’d never seen before bounced by on a pogo stick, giving us a jaunty wave.

The best part about it was, there were no visitors standing around shooting us dirty looks. No suspicious glances or whispers behind hands. The sun was working its magic on everyone’s psyches.

“Okay, this is like a circus,” Tristan said, still holding my hand.

“But in a good way,” I replied. “At least there are no actual clowns.”

A group of Lifers stepped out of the general store—Fisher and Kevin included—and I smiled as they squinted dramatically against the sun. Fisher caught sight of us, and we walked over to meet at the center of the park. It wasn’t until we were halfway there that Joaquin shoved open the door and slipped his sunglasses on. In the space of three seconds, I saw him see me, saw him notice my hand clasped with Tristan’s, and watched his face go cold. I thought about tugging my fingers out of Tristan’s grip, but decided against it. This was what I had chosen, what my heart had chosen, and Joaquin had already given his blessing, as much as he possibly could.

He looked both ways before crossing the street, then jogged to catch up with us.

“How’s it going, man?” Joaquin asked, slapping Tristan on the shoulder. Tristan flinched forward from the force of it but recovered nicely. I tried to catch Joaquin’s eye, but it was impossible with him wearing mirrored sunglasses. It was my own distorted reflection that stared back at me.

“Okay,” Tristan said. “Better now that the sun’s out.”

“No doubt,” Fisher said, rubbing his hands together. “You’re back, the sun’s back…. I think this calls for a celebration.”

“Party on the bay beach?” Joaquin suggested, raising his eyebrows. “Get a little beach volleyball going, maybe take out some of the kayaks? Scrounge up some grub from the Swan and invite the visitors?”

“It’s not like we can usher anyone else anyway,” Kevin said, lifting his palms. “We’re outta good coins.”

“I see where you’re going with this, but are we sure we’re ready to celebrate?” Tristan asked. “Rory’s family is still stuck in the Shadowlands. Not to mention a bunch of other innocent people.”

Fisher seemed to deflate. The smile fell from Joaquin’s lips. “What, you think I don’t care about her family?” Joaquin demanded, angling himself in front of Tristan.

My heart dropped. That was a fighter’s stance if I’d ever seen one. Tristan, unsurprisingly, looked confused.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Good, because I do care,” Joaquin replied. “So what are we supposed to do? You’re the one with the answers, right? Everyone’s just been dying for the great Tristan to come home to give us the answers. So what do we do?”

Tristan dropped my hand. His jaw clenched and he crossed his arms over his chest. “If I knew that, don’t you think I would have done it already?”

“Then why are you trying to bring us down, man? We haven’t seen the sun in two weeks. I don’t think hanging out and letting everyone blow off some steam for a few hours is necessarily a bad idea, considering how tense everyone’s been. But if you disagree, then obviously we’ll do whatever you say. Isn’t that how it works around here?”

“Let’s just calm down.” I forced myself in between Tristan and Joaquin, my hands raised at my sides. “I, for one, think the party is a fantastic idea. We’ll relax for a few hours, and who knows? Maybe Pete will finally wake up, and we can get our answers.”

Joaquin simply stared at me, so I turned around to face Tristan.

“I love that you thought of my feelings, but it’s okay,” I told him quietly. “I think this place could use a little joy.”

Tristan swallowed hard. I could feel his body unclench, letting go of the adrenaline brought out by Joaquin’s obvious ire.

“Okay, then,” he said to the group. “A party it is.”

Half an hour later, said party was in full swing. I stood near the sidelines while Bea jumped up to spike a battered volleyball into the sand, her torso exposed in her sporty red bikini, her fiery hair loose around her shoulders. The look on her face was pure “kill.” Liam and Lauren, who were playing against her and one of the taller male visitors, actually ducked for cover.

Smart move. The ball hit the ground with the force of a rocket, ricocheting off with a spray of sand and landing on the boardwalk. It almost tripped an elderly man jogging by, and he threw a curse at us as he tossed it back. Liam helped Lauren off the ground, clasping her forearm-to-forearm, and she rolled her eyes at him.

“I thought you said you were good at this,” she groused.

Liam threw his sinewy arms wide. In red shorts and a white tank top, he looked every bit the lifeguard he’d been on Earth. “You could have warned me you had an Olympian on the other side.”

Lauren bent to dust the sand off her legs. “She was a diver! Not a volleyball player!”

Bea and her partner cackled and shared a high five, then started whispering behind their hands, planning their next shot.

“We need more chips and salsa!” Kevin shouted. “Anybody wanna go with me?”

“I’ll go!” Liam volunteered instantly, jogging off the court.

“Hey!” Lauren protested.

But Liam ignored her. He said a few words to Fisher, who stood on the opposite side. Fisher pulled his shirt off, tossed it on the sand, and went to take his place next to Lauren. Liam and Kevin took off for the stairs and disappeared up the boardwalk.

“Aw yeah! You’re going down, Fish!” Bea crowed, moving her head back and forth tauntingly.

“Talk about letting off some steam,” Joaquin said, moseying over and taking a long-necked bottle of beer from the cooler behind me.

I automatically glanced over my shoulder at the water. Tristan was out there, floating in a kayak alongside Teresa, their oars resting over their laps as they conversed with heads bent as close together as they could get in separate boats. I was sure Tristan was talking to her about his recovery and Pete’s condition. I hoped she had only good news on both.

“Bea’s pretty good, huh?” Joaquin said, gesturing at her with the bottle before popping it open on the lip of the cooler’s lid.

My skin warmed at his nearness, and I sipped my water. “She’s good,” I agreed.

“You should see Krista play. She kicks everyone’s ass.” Joaquin stood next to me with forced casualness, his bare feet planted wide in the still-damp sand, one hand in the pocket of his jeans. I felt a zip of attraction and focused my gaze on the volleyball net.

“Krista? Really?”

He nodded as he took a swig of beer. “She played in high school. Coulda played in college if she’d made it that far.”

Huh. Guess you could never tell everything about a person just by looking at them.

“Where is Krista, anyway?” Joaquin asked, glancing around. “She lives for this crap.”

“She’s cleaning up the playroom and then coming down,” I told him. “Apparently the mayor’s all over her to get their house back to normal now that the kids are gone.”

Bea served the ball, and Fisher bumped it to Lauren, who barely got it over the net. The visitor boy on Bea’s side set it up for her, and she was just going up for another spike when Fisher stood up straight, his eyes trained on the water.

“Not again.”

The ball hit the sand. Everyone turned around. At the water’s edge, Tristan and Teresa were just tugging their brightly hued kayaks up the sand as the fog rolled in behind them, thick and fast. I gasped, and Tristan’s eyes met mine, homing in on me as if making sure he’d be able to find me once the gray mist gobbled him up.

“Who’s supposed to be ushered?” Bea whispered just as we were overtaken by the billowing cloud.

I whipped around, disoriented. The fog was so thick I couldn’t see more than a foot in any direction. Her voice had come from off my right shoulder when I had thought she was standing to my left.

“Bea?”

“Yeah?” she replied. I jumped. Now it sounded like she was directly behind me.

“Okay, nobody move. Just for a second.” I took a breath, my pulse throbbing. I’d forgotten how terrifying the fog could be. Someone moved past nearby, the mist swirling just to my left. But there were no shadows, no shapes, no shades of light. Only fog.

I had no idea how long I stood there in silence. The fog had a way of erasing time or making it speed up or making it stop. Within it, everything was suspended. Everything except my fear.

Suddenly, someone grabbed my hand. I let out a strangled gasp.

“Tristan?” I hoped, turning around.

Joaquin appeared out of the mist, pulling my hips against his and holding me there.

“No. It’s just me,” he said huskily, studying my face. “I figured this might be my last chance to do this.”

He leaned down and kissed me, parting my lips with his tongue, holding me against him with his strong arms. My pulse skipped erratically in exhilaration and happiness and guilt and fear. I knew in the back of my mind that I should probably break away, but my heart—my stupid, sadistic heart—demanded otherwise. I closed my eyes and gripped the back of his shirt with everything I had in me. Whether it was a good-bye or just a desperate plea for understanding, I kissed him right back.

“Ho. Lee. Crap,” Fisher said.

I opened my eyes, my stomach twisting, knowing already what I would see. The fog had cleared out and Fisher was standing maybe five inches to my right, still shirtless, slowly tugging his mirrored glasses off. Joaquin released me and I stumbled backward a step, looking around. Tristan had stopped midstride, only three feet away, his face slack with devastation. I opened my mouth to say something, to explain myself, but I didn’t get the chance. Our walkie-talkies crackled to life, and Dorn’s voice boomed through the speakers.

“Be advised: Pete’s awake.”

I looked at Joaquin.

“Go,” he said, the underlying meaning clear. He would handle Tristan. Whatever that meant, I’d find out later. Right now, I had a family to save.

I was halfway up the steps when Krista sprinted up to the guardrail, her blue eyes wild, half her hair falling out of her ponytail. Her face was as gray as ash.

“You guys, it’s happening again,” she choked out right in front of the visitors, the Lifers, everyone. “Three souls were just ushered to the Shadowlands.”