Strong arms were wrapped around him, and for a horrible moment, Baz thought he was trapped in that Tides-damned nightmare of his, back at the printing press to relive his worst memory.
But upon opening his eyes he realized he was out at sea, great waves trying to pull him under again. There was moonlight overhead, and seawater in his nose and mouth, and the arms around him weren’t his father’s but Kai’s, holding him afloat.
“I’ve got you,” Kai breathed. “I’ve got you.”
Baz tried to turn around to face him, legs kicking wildly underwater. But an angry wave broke over them, and suddenly they were under again. When Baz emerged, he looked around frantically for the coastline, but it was all sea, all water everywhere, freezing and dark.
They were going to drown here.
“There,” Kai said, pointing to somewhere in the distance, where Baz could barely make out a light along the shore.
They swam with everything they had, aided by the swelling tide. When they finally reached the shore, Baz heaved among the weeds and shells and silt. Kai lay panting beside him.
Wiping his mouth, Baz gave a puzzled look at the cliffside. They were on Dovermere Cove.
“How in the Deep are we back here?”
It was as if the sleepscape didn’t want them to reach the next world, so it pulled them back to the one they had come from, depositing them on Dovermere Cove like all the bodies it had spat out before them.
The others were nowhere to be seen.
“I don’t think we’re on the same beach anymore,” Kai said, a strange quality to his voice.
Baz frowned at him where he sat staring at the top of the cliffs. “What are you—”
But as he tracked Kai’s gaze, the words died on his lips.
Kai was right. They weren’t on the same beach, not exactly. It was Dovermere Cove, sure enough, but not the one they knew. For at the top of the cliff where Aldryn College stood, the old lighthouse that had all but crumbled to dust and had been out of service for decades now stood tall and pristine, a great beacon of light shining from it.
Kai met his gaze and spoke words that made no sense at all.
“I think we’ve gone back in time.”
22EMORY
EMORY MINDLESSLY REACHED FOR HERLightkeeper magic to keep the shattered lantern from plunging them into darkness, but even with the ley line beneath her feet, the light sputtered on dimly, as though there were no hope to cling to.
As if Keiran’s ghost had snuffed it all out.
He’d emerged from behind them, swathed in shadows as if he were an umbra, pulled from the darkest recesses of Emory’s nightmares. The shadows dissolved at his feet as he stepped closer, falling behind him like a cloak he was shedding, a train of lingering nightmares.
Emory gritted her teeth, bracing for the cacophony of whispers from the other ghosts to assault her ears. But it was only him. “I told you to leave me alone,” she said aloud, uncaring of what the other two thought of her. “Why won’t you leave me alone?”
“Em.” Romie gripped her wrist tight, a tremor in her voice. “I don’t think that’s one of your ghosts.”
It was only then that Emory realized both Romie and Aspenwere looking right at Keiran—at the ghost she alone should be able to see.
She faltered, a sound between a sob and a scream catching in her throat. Keiran smiled at her, and she wondered how she could have missed the unnatural black of his eyes, pupils ringed in gold and silver. And itwasKeiran, this she was sure of—even if she hadn’t been haunted by his ghost these past few days, she’d know his face anywhere, that chestnut hair, the sun-kissed skin, those thick-lashed eyes, still the same despite their odd coloring.
But that smile…
There was nothing of Keiran in that smile. No boyish dimples, only a tight-lipped line, cruel in its hardness. A slash of malice.
“How?” Emory breathed. “I watched you die.” She’d watched the umbraedevourhim.
Keiran tilted his head to the side, a hint of curiosity in his expression. “You did,” he said, though it was almost formed like a question. His cold voice slithered unpleasantly over her, so unlike Keiran’s own, but familiar in a way that had a horrible realization dawning on her. Keiran’s smile widened. “But I am not him.”
The shadows at his feet gathered, forming into a handful of umbrae that hovered behind him like sentinels. There was a flicker of motion, and then the umbrae were on them, clawed hands wrapping around their necks and arms to keep them rooted to the spot. Emory could feel Romie fighting against their hold, could hear Aspen’s broken whimper as she, too, realized what stood before them.
