Halfway home, my dress soaked with sweat and my legs burning, I stop running. What am I running from? I’m not even sure. The sight of Bran and Avalon? Yes, that’s part of it, but it’s Madda, too, how she singled me out. She might not have said a word to me, but in those howls I heard despair, and confusion, and sadness for me and for her. What did the Old Ones show her? What could have been so terrible?
I stand there, panting, thoughts of Madda giving way to Bran again. How could I be so stupid? I try to tell myself he doesn’t matter, he’s just some dumb guy, but that’s a lie. He does matter now. I promised myself that I wouldn’t let this happen, that I wouldn’t care, that I wouldn’t become like the women who live here, the ones who pine after Band men and get nothing in return. So I won’t. No matter what I feel in my heart, I won’t go back to that.
Bran’s not like that, a small part of my mind whispers.
But the image of him and Avalon passing the bottle, sharing a kiss? It mutes that whisper. I know what I saw, and no matter how strong I wish I was, it still hurts.
Above me, the night sky is awash with stars. When I was little, my mother told me that when people died, they became stars. I’d like to believe that my mother’s up there somewhere, watching me at this very moment.
Mom, if you can hear me, make this right. Make everything all right. Make me strong enough to do what needs to be done. Make me brave enough to weather whatever is heading my way.
I’m still staring at the stars when I hear someone coming up the road. For a moment I think about stepping into the forest and hiding, but I don’t. There’s only darkness there, so I break into a run again.
It could be Paul. It could be your father. It could be… But I don’t let that whisper take root. All hope needs is a spark, and I’m too smart to allow that.
I don’t stop until I reach our house, my heart pounding, my skin cold with fear. Whoever is chasing me hasn’t let up, and isn’t far behind.
I round the corner and am halfway down the hill when Bran calls my name. I don’t stop. I’m past the house, the boathouse, out to the end of the dock as fear transforms itself into fury. How dare he chase me, after what I saw in the park? How dare he!
His footsteps echo behind me. “Cass! It isn’t what you think,” he calls from several steps away, as if he’s afraid to approach.
“Isn’t it?” My words come out as a hiss. “I saw you with her. What was all this about, coming to get me, holding my hand? What was that all about? I’m not like her. I’m not like that.” I spit the last word at him.
“I know. I know you aren’t,” he says, his voice halting, unsure. This is not the Bran I know. He holds his hands out toward me, pleading. “Please, Cass. You have to listen. She has ideas, Avalon. She won’t listen. She kissed me. I didn’t kiss her, and I’m sorry you had to see that. There was something between us, once, but it hasn’t been that way for a long time. That’s where I went when I left you with Ms. Adelaide. She had something of mine I needed back, and I had something of hers. I thought she’d understand, but…” His voice trails off.
I want to believe him. I want to believe him so badly it hurts.
“Ask Paul,” he says. His eyes are full of desperation. “Please. He’ll tell you.”
I turn toward Bran. A green stone hangs at his throat. The one Avalon wore the day I met her. With two quick steps, I stand right before him, catching the stone in my hand. “Then what is this?”
“That?” He meets my gaze. Moonlight reflects in his eyes. “That is mine. Avalon took it months ago, and I’ve been trying to get it back ever since. That’s what you saw-me, trying to get it back.”
“And the whiskey?”
“I didn’t drink any.” He whispers the words, and I can tell they’re true, but I can also tell that he can taste the memory of whiskey on his lips. If a bottle appeared in my hand and I offered it to him now, he’d drink. “I’m trying, Cass,” he says. “I don’t want to be like my mom, but it’s hard. It’s so hard sometimes.”
We stand like that for several minutes, me gazing into his eyes, searching for-something. I don’t know what, exactly, and finally I sigh and pull him close, resting my forehead against his.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” he says.
“I think so,” I say.
“Good.” He traces my arm with a single finger. “I want you to have…”
The sentence remains incomplete as the dock suddenly lurches. Bran makes a desperate grab for me but misses, and we both tumble into the water.
I try to swim back, but my hand slides off something smooth and slick that blocks my way. It writhes in the water, churning it to white as I kick with all my strength, trying to get away.
“Here!” Bran screams. He’s back up on the dock. “Give me your hand!”
I swim toward him, stretching my hand out to his, but as our fingers touch, I’m hit square in the stomach and borne to the bottom of the lake, pinned there by a glittering mass of black.
I kick and try to scream, but water fills my mouth. My hands rake across leathery skin as clouds of sparks fly at me, misting my vision so I can’t see anything as I lash out, fighting with all the strength I have. The creature bites me right in the stomach and I scream, and scream again, even as water gushes into my mouth, down into my lungs, consuming me whole. The lake is my coffin, and I am about to die.
No, I think. No, this isn’t how it’s supposed to be! I will not be trapped here in the dark with that creature. I want to live, so I can hunt it down and do to it what it’s done to me!
And with that, I start to kick-kick with all my might. I will not die here. I will not die. This is my life. The lake and her creature will not steal it from me.
My hand finds the knife Madda gave me and unsheathes it, blindly lashing out at whatever is pinning me down. I strike and strike and scream and forget that I can’t breathe underwater. I don’t care. I will kill this thing that seeks to kill me.
And then, it’s gone. I float. Up, down, I don’t know. I don’t care.