There, in front of me, gusts of wind were rushing together from all directions—swirling together, forming a giant spiral of wind.
A whirlwind—twisting and turning in the air.
Around it, the air was perfectly still. No hint of a breeze. Not a leaf moving. All the violence and rage of the gale was concentrated here, in this whirling mass.
I stared at it, awestruck. For I understood what this was.
I knew, with utter certainty, this was Aura herself. This was the goddess, terrifying, vengeful, and full of rage. She was the wind.
And she had come for me.
As soon as I thought this, the wind rushed toward me. It entered my open mouth, ran down my throat, and filled up my body. It made me expand, grow, and swell. My lungs nearly burst with it. It coursed through my veins; it swirled around my heart.
The wind consumed me; and I became it.
I became the fury.
7
Lana walked into the kitchen. She was followed by the others. But she barely registered their presence.
She looked out the window at the brightening sky.
She was deep in thought—but with no confusion or distress. She felt strangely calm, as though she’d had a restful night and had just awoken from a deep sleep. She felt clear, in a way she hadn’t for a long time.
You might suppose her mind would be on me, but you’d be wrong. I had faded almost entirely from her thoughts, as if I had never existed.
With my departure, a new clarity appeared. Everything Lana had felt so scared of—all the loneliness, loss, remorse—meant nothing to her now. All the human relationships she had deemed so necessary for her happiness meant nothing. She saw the truth at last, that she was alone and always had been.
Why had that been so frightening? She didn’t need Kate, nor Jason. She would set them all free, all of them. She would release her hostages. She would buy Agathi some land in Greece, a house, and a life, instead of demanding she sacrifice herself to Lana’s fear. Lana was no longer afraid. She would let Leo live his own life, pursue his own dreams. Who was she to hold on to him, to cling to him?
And Jason? She would throw him onto the street. Let him go to jail, let him go to hell, he meant nothing to her now.
She couldn’t wait to leave. She wanted to get as far away from this island as possible. She never wanted to come back. She would leave London, too. She knew that.
But go where? Wander the world aimlessly, forever lost? No. She was no longer lost. The fog had lifted, the road was revealed. The journey ahead was clear.
She would go home.
Home. As she thought this, she felt a warm glow in her heart.
She would go back to California, back to Los Angeles. All these years, she had been running away—fleeing who she was, fleeing the only thing that gave her meaning. Now, finally, she would confront her destiny, embrace it. She’d go back to Hollywood, where she belonged. And go back to work.
Lana felt so powerful now, rising like a phoenix from the ashes. Strong and fearless. Alone, but not afraid. There was nothing to be afraid of. She felt … what—what was this feeling? Joyful? Yes, joy. She felt full of joy.
Lana didn’t hear me enter the kitchen. I had come into the house through the back door. Silently making my way along the passage, I heard them, in the kitchen, congratulating themselves on their successful production. There was laughter, and the sound of champagne corks popping.
As I walked in, Agathi was pouring champagne into a row of glasses. She didn’t see me at first—but then she noticed a couple of wasps on the counter. She looked up.
She saw me standing by the door. She gave me a strange look. It must have been the wasps on me that made her look at me like that.
“A water taxi will be here in twenty minutes,” Agathi said. “Go get your stuff.”
I didn’t reply. I stood there, staring at Lana.
Lana was standing apart from the others, by the window, looking out. I thought how beautiful she looked, in this early-morning light. The sun outside made the window glow behind her, creating a halo around her head. She looked like an angel.
“Lana?” I said, in a low voice.
I sounded calm. I looked calm on the surface. But in the padlocked cell in my mind, where I kept him prisoner, I could hear the kid, rising up like a golem, wailing, screaming—battering the cell door with his fists, howling with rage.
Once again, abused; once again, humiliated. And worse, much worse—all his darkest fears, all the terrible things that I’d promised him weren’t true, had just been confirmed; by the only person he ever loved. Lana had exposed the kid, finally, for what he was: unwanted, unloved, a fraud. A freak.