Cass rolled her eyes. “I don’t need to hide. I look best under the brightest lights.”
“I don’t think there’s any place we can hide when they’re closer than we can imagine,” Mary said. The words sent shivers down multiple spines.
Harmony followed Mary’s gaze to the window. For a heartbeat, she saw a faint silhouette reflected there—watching.
She blinked, and it was gone.
Mary rose. “I need a walk. I won’t go anywhere scary,” she said.
She was gone before anyone could argue.
“Should someone go after her?” Zach asked.
“No, she needs time alone,” Tosh said. “Trust me.”
“Do you think she’s losing it?” Cass asked.
Tosh watched Mary’s retreating back, his jaw tight. “She’s not losing,” he said quietly. “Mary doesn’t lose things. She buries them.”
Harmony watched her disappear into the dark. “I think she’s remembering things that most people have forgotten.”
“Like what?” Zach asked.
“What to listen for,” Harmony said.
They all went silent. It really did feel like they were in a story, one that was being written, one that a single person controlled. They couldn’t stop it. Some of them didn’t want to. Some wanted to see how it played out. Maybe that was the trap.
There wasn’t anything they could do to stop what was coming, so there was no need to run. They’d face it and see who was still standing at the end of the story.
***
That night, Mary stood alone at her window, the ocean swaying below. On the glass beside her reflection, a faint handprint appeared . . . like someone stretching to reach her.
“What do you want?” she whispered.
“For you to finish what needs finishing.”
The voice was soft, familiar . . . terrifying. But, she knew it was right. It was time to finish what should’ve been done a very long time ago.
Mary bowed her head. “Okay.”
A sigh of relief brushed her ear.
For the first time in years, Mary felt peace.
She might even sleep tonight.
The living were the ones who forgot. The dead remembered everything. Tonight, Mary finally agreed to rememberwiththem.
Chapter Thirty
The Composer
I used to belong to this island. Now it belongs to me.
Every sound that once frightened me now brings joy. The crack of thunder before a storm. A gasp of breath before there is no more. The waves slamming against rocks, breaking anything too weak to hold its place.
It’s all a symphony.
