Beach Thriller(99)

Holly rolled her eyes. Could this guy ever give a straight answer? “There are a bunch of generators powering the party,” Holly said. “You can’t have all the lights down here without them. Nothing strange about that.”

“I’m telling you, this one was strange. See, I went to the kitchen to get some ice. It’s faster to walk out the back door and around the tower than to go through the house. So that’s what I was doing and I notice this generator running, but nothing is plugged into it.

“Now, I’ve been a musician a long time…”

Holly bit her tongue, recalling the beleaguered staff at the Bean There Café desperate to muffle his sound.

“And I’ve played a lotta gigs, worked a lotta parties, and usually you plug something into a generator—an extension cord, an amp, you know? But there’s nothing plugged into that machine other than a metal tube venting through a small window into the basement.”

There’s a basement? Holly’s entire body thrummed with adrenaline. Then she remembered the tower stairs that went up—and down.

Her heart dropped. She whirled, shoving the busker aside brusquely, eliciting a cry of surprise and annoyance. She didn’t pause to apologize. She increased her pace, long strides pushing through the sand, propelling her up the stairs, until Miramar was back in view. She sprinted toward the house.

Ethan was right behind her.





Chapter 62

Jade




A warm light appears before me. It’s as bright as a star, but I feel no pain. I can look directly at it without wincing. I have a vague sense that I should be afraid, that I should run from this light. But honestly, I want it to take me. From it, I feel an overwhelming sense of … love, a love unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.

The light intensifies. It’s blinding, but where is it coming from? Nothing makes sense.

Then I hear a voice. My mind struggles to make meaning of the garbled words.

“Jade … are you down here? Jade?”

I’m here, I want to say, though I can’t actually speak. But more important … who is Jade?

No sooner do I think of the question than I realize Jade is me. I am the girl who runs—who has been running her whole life until I got here … to Beauport … and to Holly. And that’s who’s calling my name. Holly. I recognize her voice.

I want to stop running and go to her. But the light. It’s calling me—me and someone else, another person nearby. I’m not alone in here. A new memory strikes—my weapon, the glass bottle, sinking into flesh, blood leaking out.

Yes, my attacker—my would-be killer who came to finish the job—I got you first, and now we’re both going into the light. I can feel their life force slipping away, same as mine is fading. We are now one—the kidnapper and the victim, fused into a single consciousness.

I can’t explain it, but I hear their voice in my head as they lie dying beside me, talking to me telepathically, repeating the same phrase over and over.

I’m sorry … I’m sorry … I’m sorry …

Too late, I say back to them using my mind, not my mouth.

It’s too late for sorry. The light has come for us both.

We must go to it. We must go. Our time here is done.





Chapter 63

Holly




“Jade? Are you down here?”

Holly had never moved so quickly in her life. The girl who once got a C in gym class—which takes real effort—was somehow faster than Ethan now, her adrenaline peaking. The busker’s words echoed in her mind: Nothing was plugged into that machine except a metal tube venting through a small window …

Time was her enemy. Every second could mean the difference between life and death.

She rushed into Miramar and down the uneven tower steps. The scent of mold was strong—musty and earthy, dank like wet, decaying leaves. Dampness sank into her skin. It felt like venturing into a crypt.

Ethan yelled to her breathlessly from above, “Holly, wait up—it might be dangerous!”

But his warning only made her descend faster, skipping steps, almost flying down the stairs. At the bottom, she lost her footing and stumbled into the opening, her knees colliding with the rough-hewn floor.

She righted herself as though nothing had happened; she couldn’t allow herself to feel pain.

She called Jade’s name again.

No response. All she heard was the muffled roar of the generator running outside. Was it a mistake to rush into the basement before turning it off? Nothing she could do now.

Holly had stumbled into a dank, gloomy landing—part of the neglected underworld of Miramar. An imposing wooden door stood directly in front of her, left slightly ajar with a key still in the keyhole. Holly tried to hold her breath, but it was impossible. The air didn’t taste poisonous, but carbon monoxide was a silent killer.

She opened the door and stepped into the room without hesitation, aware that her safety was at risk. Ethan came up behind her, hunched over, hands on his knees, desperate to catch his breath. A faint smell of urine coated the air. Slowly her eyes adjusted to the dark as she took in the scene. Shards of broken glass littered the floor, scattered over pools of sour-smelling wine.

Outside the window on the other side of the room, the generator shuddered and roared, a tube extending from it pressed against a metal grate. A sweatshirt stuffed into the opening of the tube hopefully prevented a fatality—or two, as there were not just one, but two bodies lying on the floor.