And then the clanking of wind chimes.
That flash of Elora hits me as soon as Hart is gone. I grit my teeth against the terror of that moment. My twin flame fighting the storm to stay on her feet.
I get up and lock the door, then I sit and stare at the empty room. The AC is still rattling in the window, but it feels like there’s no air left in the sealed-up house. From the kitchen, I hear the weather announcer giving the latest update.
Twenty-four hours till landfall.
Hurricane Elizabeth is still moving north, targeting the Louisiana coast. A weather buoy out in the gulf is already reporting fifty-foot waves.
Fear gnaws at me with sharp teeth.
What if the supply boat can’t make it in?
I tell myself it’s already safe in one of the lower river passes, anchored down and ready to head on up this way at first light. But there’s no way to know that for sure.
I’m feel myself spiraling and I don’t know what else to do, so I dig The Tempest out of my backpack and read until midnight. But when the final act ends with everyone safe and forgiven, I throw the book across the room and scream at the walls.
Because that feels like cheating.
And then there’s nothing to do but wait.
Pace the floor. Count the little faded apples on the kitchen wallpaper. And wonder. Drive myself wild with worry. Wait some more. Until I finally fall asleep on the cold linoleum.
It’s hours later when I wake up. 4:32 a.m.
I wonder if Hart has found Zale.
Out there.
In the wild dark of the bayou.
I think about Evie. How terrified she must be. If she’s anything at all any more.
I stand up to stretch my aching back, and suddenly the radio turns to static. A low white-noise hum.
The overhead light flickers. Then dims. Then goes blazing bright. And dims again.
The hair on my arms stands straight up, and I hear my heart hammering in my ears.
I creep to the back door to crack it open and peer out into the night. But there are no ice-fire eyes burning in the shadows.
A gust of wind sweeps into the kitchen. It rips the knob from my hand and flings the door wide open.
Evie’s chimes whisper my name. They call me outside. Like an invitation.
So I step out on to boardwalk behind the house. Almost like I’m dreaming.
Hart would tell me not to. But Hart isn’t here.
There’s a forgotten hammer lying on the back step, from when we put the plywood over the windows, and I pick it up and wrap my fingers around the handle.
I pause to search the dark again for bright blue eye-shine. Like looking for a gator in a black pond. I tighten my grip on the hammer. But I still don’t see that icy glow staring back at me from the edges of the swamp. I know he’s close, though, so I tiptoe around the side of the house until I can peek around the corner and look toward the dock.
And there he is, blond hair blowing in the moonlight. Looking out at the water. Standing not five feet away from what’s left of his father.
I freeze, but it’s too late. Zale turns to look back, and I’m caught in his fire-and-ice gaze. He raises a hand to wave at me, and it’s like the movement wipes me clean. My fear slips away, and calm settles on me like a cool sheet in the summertime. It pulls me out of hiding, and I stand in the middle of the boardwalk staring at him, the hammer still dangling from my hand.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, Grey.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask him.
He smiles at me.
Those eyes.
“I wanted to make sure you were safe.”
But I’m not safe, am I? Not with him here.
Everything is so confusing.
I push back at the fog that’s blanketing my brain. I can’t let him work that magic on me.
Not tonight.
I wriggle out of that peaceful feeling like I’m shedding wet clothes.
“Where’s Evie?” I demand. “What did you do with her?”
Zale looks confused. “Evie?”
“You took her,” I say. “Like you took Elora.” The look on his face is proof that he didn’t see that coming. “Is she dead?” I push. “Did you kill her, too?” My stomach is all tied up in writhing knots. Like a nest of snakes. “The way you killed Elora?”
The sudden electricity in the air is enough to stand my hair on end. Across the river, lightning scatters sparks like the Fourth of July. Thunder rumbles, then cracks sharp.
“I never hurt Elora,” Zale protests, and I hear the hurt in his voice. “I wouldn’t –”
“That’s a lie.” Anger bubbles up inside me until it overflows so hot I’m afraid I’ll melt into the boardwalk. “You made her fall in love with you. Then you promised her you’d run away together. You told her to sneak away and meet you that night. On the dock.”