Caleb pushes the door open after unlocking it, and I set the bags down on the beaten-up wooden table in the center of the lighthouse, Caleb setting the groceries in the kitchen and putting them away.
“Was that everything?” I say.
“I didn’t grab your garment bag. Didn’t have hands for that. But it can stay in the truck.”
“Oh, it’s not staying in the truck,” I tell him. “If you bought me a whole bunch of stuff and you want me to try them on, I’m going to need that.”
“Well, give me a second and I’ll go get it.”
“I have legs,” I tell him. “I’ll get it myself. Think you can put the groceries away better than I can anyway.”
He laughs at that. “Fine. Be stubborn,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ll wear you down soon enough.”
“We’ll see,” I say, throwing my hands up in the air with a laugh.
Then I trudge back out into the drizzle to grab the garment bag.
I open up the driver’s side door, reaching around Caleb’s seat to grab it, and the minute my fingers touch the hangers my stomach lurches and the world turns upside down as a vision hits me.
A huge black bird coasting over glassy water.
Its shadow dark in the ocean.
A circle of power.
My sisters staring at me, eyes glowing.
A lantern in the middle of the circle.
Glass exploding outward, stinging my hands and face.
A snake coiled and ready to strike.
Then all I see is blackness.
Cold water drips on my face, and I realize I’ve fallen in the driveway, the bag crumpled on the ground next to me.
“Ivy!” Caleb calls out.
I try to shake myself out of the vision, but I can’t. It was too strong. I have no idea what it meant.
“Ivy, what happened?” Somehow, Caleb‘s kneeling at my side and scooping me up.
“The clothes,” I say.
“The clothes?” Caleb repeats. “Who fucking cares? Are you hurt? Did you pass out?”
Gunner runs out beside him, grabs the garment bag, and drags it back inside.
I watch slowly, as if the entire thing is unfolding on TV instead of in front of my eyes.
“Just a vision,” I tell Caleb. “I’m okay.”
“You’re not okay. You’re shaking like a leaf,” he says. “Let’s get you inside.”
“No, I can walk.”
“You’re not walking,” Caleb tells me, and there’s a firmness to his voice I haven’t heard before.
