Damp, the rush of water, a piercing music sharp enough to draw blood.
I should have known too much time had elapsed, that the wraith would not let Kessian and I have this moment for long. Frantically, I searched the room and the window for signs of a shadow, but almost as soon as the wraith’s magic had consumed the small bedroom, it dissipated. Kessian’s glow dimmed, his own magic dormant once more. We looked at one another, confused. Something buzzed from the floor, making us both jump. Kessian’s phone. I got up to fish it out of his trousers. A premonition of dread came over me as I handed it to him, Fae’s name flashing across the screen. I could hear their voice though they weren’t on speaker.
“Kessian! Have you seen Tal?”
“Uh, yes. He’s with me right here. Do you want to talk to him?”
“No. You both need to come right away. Come to the spa.”
“What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
“It’s the wraith. The wraith has taken someone again.”
My whole body flushed with cold. I’d known. As soon as I’d seen their name on the phone, I’d known.
“Who? Who’s it taken?” he asked.
“Amelia. It got Amelia.”
Chapter 22
We found my family gathered in the reception of the spa. All of them except Amelia. Marlowe sat behind the desk with his head in his hands, face obscured, while Lettie wept and Mum tried to comfort her. Fae sat on the bottom step with Camilla holding them, a picture of a family in grief from which three faces were missing.
And mine, but it always was.
The door chime drew all their attention as I walked in. My mum rounded on me at once, eyes red and a tissue scrunched in her fist.
“You. You’ve been back a few short days, and now look what’s happened.”
“Mum, please,” Fae pleaded. With their knees tucked and their tear-streaked face, they looked as young as the day I left.
“How did it happen?” I asked through the lump in my throat.
“The same way it’s always happened.”
“Amelia and I shared a shift today,” Fae said. “I was closing up for the day when I heard screaming from the direction of the spring. By the time I got out there, it already had her.” Fae shivered, voice breaking. “It dragged her under the water. I tried to go in after her, but it was just like with Laurelie. No body, nothing. Like the spring just … absorbed her.”
She broke down completely then. Lettie did, too. She wouldn’t even look at me. Marlowe barely held it together himself, and I wondered if he hated me, too, now.
“None of it would have happened if you’d left like you were supposed to,” Mum said.
“This isn’t Tal’s fault,” Fae argued.
“Then whose is it? Nine years, and nobody else has drowned, but now—” My mother covered her mouth with the back of her hand and looked away, chin wobbling.
Perhaps it was a case of classic dissociation, but rather than rail against the accusation or sink under the weight of my guilt, I found myself envying everyone’s ability to express their feelings, raw and out loud, while I probably looked as though I didn’t care. A weight crushed the air out of my lungs, my chest was sore with the abusive slam of my heart, but none of it really showed because I wasn’t predisposed to tears or raising my voice. I wanted to. I wanted to scream that Amelia was important to me, too, and why didn’t I get to grieve her with everyone?
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Mum fumed.
“I was trying to fix it,” I said quietly.
“Right before Fae’s wedding? Did you stop to think how terrible it would be to lose someone so close to the big day?”
“Mum, that isn’t fair,” Fae protested. “We can put off the wedding.”
“We certainly will not. We cannot afford to postpone. This close to the date, we lose our deposit for everything.”
“Can we not talk about money right now!” Fae cried.
