Total pages in book: 209
Estimated words: 196141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 981(@200wpm)___ 785(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 196141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 981(@200wpm)___ 785(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
There are always bigger pictures, says Tristan.
“It is too chaotic a picture to comprehend.”
Perhaps you are standing too close. As long as this next step goes to plan, and I retain my ability to move the pieces where I please, you will have nothing to fear, nor any bigger picture to decipher. Really, Wendy, haven’t you known me long enough to trust my plans?
“Do you remember what I said once? Long ago? When we stood on a set of train tracks, and we had just saved a boy from a burning house?” says the shadow of an opened door. “Do you remember how you claimed to keep that boy alive for a purpose you did not yet know?” says the shadow of the archway Tristan passes through. “And when I said that it would only be a matter of time before your every effort was undone?” says Tristan’s own shadow as he enters the Midnight Garden. “That the act of saving the boy may someday cut your immortal life short?”
Then Tristan sees no more faces in the shadows.
Hears no more words. No more Wendy.
Tristan comes to a stop, heart turning cold in the abrupt silence. He looks to the left, feeling a chill. To the right. He spins around completely, looks the other way, eyes darting here and there. All the trees and flowers and plants sway ominously. Hissing against one another’s leaves and branches. Whispering words that make no sense.
Tristan knows at once that something is wrong. He hurries down the cobblestone path, makes a left, hurries further, makes another, then stops in front of a tree. Where once was a mound of dirt, now is a hole.
Tristan turns at a sound. Standing there: Ashara. And George.
“What a funny sight,” says Ashara. “To see the creature of Tristan in shock. Is he ever shocked?” she asks a stoic George, covered from face to shoes in dirt, unsmiling, unmoving. “Oh, by the way.” She saunters up to Tristan. “I just happened on an intriguing discovery. The violinist you and Raya tried to hide. I knew it at once, something was amiss. With the littlest effort, I found his true name. Shall I give you three guesses as to whom I plan to take this information? Or will you need only one?”
Tristan reaches at once, drags fingertips over her face. It is he, instead, whose eyes rock back, as he collapses to the floor.
27.
Not Bad, but Definitely Not Good.
—∙—
Long before the town looms in the distance, Kyle swears he can sense Elias. All the other human beings in town barely register, hardly there, total afterthoughts. The only person who clicks wholly and potently into place is the man in a house at the edge of town who holds Kyle’s heart. The idea becomes a reality as Kyle stumbles onto his street. His house sits there just as he left it under the glow of a streetlamp, soft light pulsing in the front window, candlelight. He clambers up the steps of his dark porch, peels open the door and comes inside.
Only to find Cade, Layna, and Jeremy seated around the kitchen table. In its center: a bunch of lit candles, their flames dancing. Also: saucers of spices, of herbs, leaves, rose petals. Bottles and squatty glasses filled with different oils.
“The fuck?” mutters Kyle half to himself.
Cade is the first to her feet. “Kyle!” She comes halfway to him, stops. “What in the hell happened to you?”
“This is Drake with the pink hair,” says Kyle without even looking. Mikey barges in, heads straight to the kitchen, twists on the faucet, and plunges his face under it. “And … that was Mikey, who is very, very thirsty.”
“Hi,” says Drake with a demure wiggle of his fingers.
Cade is at a loss for words, gazing at the man chugging water from the faucet in a golden thong, then at pink-haired Drake and Kyle. “You guys look like you climbed out of a hole.”
“We did.” Kyle comes up to Cade. “Are you okay? What’s going on here?” He glances to the side, sensing Elias elsewhere in the house. “Is Elias in the bathroom?”
“Showering,” she confirms, flustered. “He’s a wreck. But that apparently doesn’t compare to whatever you’ve been through. Are you okay? You in danger? Hurt? Elias told us everything. Well, I assume it’s everything. About the … the more vampirey vampire you two encountered.”
“Hi, Mr. Kyle,” says Layna quietly, her chair squeezed up next to Jeremy, who just stares at Kyle ghoulishly.
When Cade takes Kyle’s hands, he comes to. “Yes,” he says at last, “yes, I’m fine, we’re fine, everyone’s …” He squints at the table. “Really, though, what’s going on exactly? Is this a … a séance? Did you guys think I was dead?”
“Um, no. This is us pretending to have magic powers,” says Cade, then stops herself, eyes wide, and lowers her voice. “Are we in safe company? Can I talk openly around them?”