Endless (Shadowlands) (13 page)

“He’s unconscious?” I said, standing in the stiflingly hot and humid hallway outside the prison area in the basement of the police station. Chief Grantz was drenched with rain and smelled of pungent sweat. Heavy bags settled under his eyes like water balloons. His dark blue vinyl JLPD jacket had a long tear up one arm, and mud covered his black boots, soaking the hem of his police-issue pants as well.

“Yep,” he said, wiping his face with a rag. “We found him at the foot of the wall at the cove. Looks like he slipped and knocked himself out.”

“You could have maybe said that on the walkie-talkie,” Liam said.

Grantz shot him a beady-eyed look. The man seemed as if he were one sarcastic remark away from a meltdown. “Teresa’s in there with him now, assessing him. You can go in if you want.”

I nodded and he opened the door for us. There were two very tiny cells with bars comprising their front walls and the walls between them. Goose bumps popped up on my arms, and I shivered as I moved aside to let Liam in behind me.

Pete was laid out on the cot in the first cell, blankets piled over him. His face was turned to the side, away from us, but I could see most of his cheek, chin, and one ear. He looked fine, just a bit pale. At least his skull was intact.

Why couldn’t we just find someone who was conscious for a change?

Teresa, a woman of about forty with short graying hair, knelt next to the cot holding Pete’s wrist between her fingers. She looked up as we came in and placed his arm gently down on the bed. My teeth clenched as I tried to fight back my vindictive side—the side that felt that Pete didn’t deserve such care when he was the one who had taken Nadia’s and Cori’s lives, who had rendered Tristan unconscious.

“How is he?” I asked.

Teresa stood up and sighed. “Vitals are fine, but he’s out cold. Only time will tell.”

“Do you have any idea when he’s gonna wake up?” Liam asked, pushing his hands into his pockets.

Teresa opened the cell door with a clang and slipped out. “Unfortunately, no. But it’s not as bad as what Tristan suffered. I’d say a few hours maybe? At most a day or two.”

A day or two.
I thought of my dad and Darcy and squeezed my eyes closed as a wave of despair crashed over me. Every hour, every minute that they were in the Shadowlands was too long.

“You’re Liam, right?” Teresa said, lifting her chin. “The mayor told me it was your idea to check Cori’s lungs. Good call. I did a rudimentary autopsy, and they were full of salt water. Turned out she did drown.”

Liam looked at me. “I guess that’s a…good thing?”

“It ups the chances that it was an accident,” Teresa replied.

“Maybe, but it doesn’t prove anything,” I said. “Dorn made it sound like everyone knew Cori wasn’t a great swimmer. If he shoved her into the water, the way it’s been raging lately…”

Liam went green and I trailed off. I didn’t want to think about it in too much detail, either—the callousness it would take to do something like that, the terror Cori would have felt as she slipped away.

“You could go in and try to wake him up if you want,” Teresa suggested, tilting her head toward Pete’s bed.

I bristled at the thought. Nothing that I had to say to Pete would make him want to wake up. I was just about to tell her as much when Pete suddenly sighed and turned his head. His eyes were still closed, but I froze, grabbing Liam’s arm. Beneath my grip, his whole body went tense.

“Oh my—” Liam said, biting down on his lip.

“Pete?” I asked. “Pete? Are you awake?”

Teresa slipped a tiny flashlight out of her pocket and moved to the bed. She pried open one of Pete’s eyes and shined the light in it. He didn’t flinch.

“He’s still out,” she concluded, shrugging at us.

Liam’s skin had gone waxy and pale. “I think we should go.” He darted for the door like the room was on fire.

“Shouldn’t we stay in case he wakes up?” I said.

Liam paused with one hand on the doorknob. “Why? She said it could be days. I say we go up to the mayor’s and find out if the Tses are talking.”

It was tempting. At least I knew the twins were conscious. I glanced back at Pete, whose eyes stayed stubbornly closed, his chest rising and falling at a normal, calm rhythm.

“I can radio you when he wakes up,” Teresa said, laying a comforting hand on my arm. “Go ahead. Neither one of you should be going anyplace alone.”

“Okay,” I said reluctantly. “Thank you.”

Liam shoved through the door. I listened as his footsteps retreated down the long hallway, but I didn’t follow. Instead, I waited until Teresa left the cell and closed the door behind her. Pete had ushered my father and my sister and Aaron and Jennifer and all the other innocent people to the Shadowlands. I wasn’t going anywhere until I knew for certain that he was locked up good and tight.

Teresa pulled out a big, old-fashioned key and placed it inside the lock. When she turned it and the catch slid into place, it let out a loud, satisfying clunk.

“Where does that go now?” I asked, eyeing the key.

“Back to Chief Grantz,” she said. “His is the only key.” She smiled in a friendly, knowing way. “You can come with me if you like.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just—”

“Honey, if I were you right now, I wouldn’t trust which way was up,” she said, giving my hand a quick squeeze. “This way.”

“Thank you,” I said, and meant it. It was the first time anyone had made me feel as if my insane emotions were understandable in such simple terms.

I followed her down the long hall, which opened up onto the back of the police station. Together we walked to Grantz’s office, and I watched her hand over the key, which he tied to a chain that was attached to his belt. Liam was waiting for me near the front door.

“Good?” Teresa asked, turning to me with a smile.

“Good,” I said. “You’ll call me when he’s awake?”

“The second he starts talking,” she assured me. “Don’t worry, hon. One way or another, this is gonna be over soon.”

I nodded and joined Liam at the door, feeling heavy and hollow at the same time. One way or another. It didn’t inspire much confidence.

“Something really weird happened to me today,” Liam said.

We were climbing the hill to the mayor’s house through the wind and the rain. Both of us were bent forward against it, like two storm-tossed ships trying to cut through the waves.

“Weirder than usual?” I asked.

He nodded as we reached the top of the bluff. “I was helping Nick up after he got pounded by a wave, and I got this flash.…I saw how he and Lalani died.”

There was a crack of lightning directly overhead. We ran for the cover of the porch roof at the mayor’s house. Heaving for breath, I pushed my hood off my hair and looked at Liam. His face was half lit by the overhead lamps, and he looked, understandably, freaked.

“That means he’s your first charge,” I told him. “He’s the first person you’re going to usher. Once we get this mess figured out.”

Liam looked at his feet. His Converse were soaked through. “That’s what I figured.”

“Are you okay?” I reached out to touch his arm, and he flinched, violently, away. I drew my hand back, my heart hammering. “Liam?”

He scoffed at the ground. “Sorry. I just…it’s been a weird day.”

Then he turned and yanked open the door, ripping his jacket off as he barreled inside. I took a deep breath, shaking off the awkwardness, and followed. Joaquin stepped away from the wall where he’d been leaning, and Krista hurried toward me from her post near the office door, where she’d clearly been attempting to eavesdrop.

“Well? How’d it go?” Joaquin asked.

“What did he say?” Krista added.

“He’s unconscious,” I said flatly, shedding my rain jacket and hanging it on the nearest hook.

“What?” Fisher blurted. He was sitting on the stairs with Bea, who leaned the side of her head against the wall, looking exhausted.

“Teresa thinks it’ll only be a few hours,” I said, trying to stay positive. “How’s it going here?”

Liam had lain down on one of the couches in the living room and was rubbing his face with both hands. Kevin was on the other couch, across the coffee table from him, his arm slung over his eyes. I could hear him snoring lightly. It was an odd time to take a nap—what with our number one suspects being interrogated in the next room—but I could hardly blame them. Every last one of us could have slept for weeks at this point.

“She’s still in there with them,” Joaquin said, nodding at the office. I could hear voices talking in calm tones from inside. “You should have heard the way they freaked when we brought them here instead of the police station. Those two are not of the wallflower variety.”

“Did you find anything at their place?” I asked Bea.

Bea sighed and pushed her curly hair back from her face with both hands. “Nothing. Not even the coin you guys saw. He must have it on him.”

“How the hell did he get ahold of a coin?” Krista asked, running her hands up and down her bare arms.

“Maybe he woke up with one next to his bed,” Fisher mused. “There’s been a lot of random crap happening around here lately. You never know.”

We fell silent. I didn’t like the idea that the coin was simply a mistake or a coincidence. I wanted the twins to be part of this. I needed someone—anyone—to blame. Someone to tell me what the hell was going on and how to fix it. I wanted my sister and my dad back so badly it was causing a constant ache in my chest.

“I’m gonna go upstairs and check on Lauren and Tristan.” Bea pushed herself up slowly.

Lauren had taken the day shift on Tristan Watch, hanging out by his bedside in case he woke up. She’d taken Nadia’s and Cori’s deaths—the very fact that we now
could
die—harder than anyone, and was clearly terrified of losing Tristan as well. Somehow, being with him comforted her, as if simply watching his chest rise and fall gave her hope.

Bea had climbed two or three steps when the office door suddenly opened. Fisher stood up. Joaquin pushed away from the wall again. Even Kevin flipped over on the couch, blinking at us with bleary eyes.

“Thank you so much for coming. I hope you enjoy your stay,” the mayor said pleasantly, holding the door for the twins to walk through. My heart caught and I glanced at Joaquin as the two of them strolled by us, smiling like content tourists.

“You’re letting them go?” Joaquin asked.

“Shh!” the mayor replied curtly.

She opened the front door for them, as well, and waited with a stiff grin on while they lifted their hands and disappeared into the night. The door closed with a bang, and the mayor pressed her palms together.

“The Tse twins are innocent as pie,” she said, her lips pursing sourly around the words. “They are incredibly suspicious people and were career activists in the other world. The current situation on Juniper Landing understandably awoke their inner rabble-rousers, but they have nothing to do with what’s been going on here.”

“Oh, come on!” Joaquin blurted. “Then where did they get the coin?”

“He claimed he found it outside the general store,” the mayor said, casting an accusatory glance around the room. She moved to the window next to the front door to glance out at the stormy sea. “Fortunately I was able to wipe the ferry accident from their memories and alter their perceptions of tonight’s activities so that when they go back to the boarding house, they’ll have the story of a silly misunderstanding to tell, but that’s that.” She took in a sharp breath and blew it out. “They should be perfectly happy here for the duration of their stay. What we need to do is figure out how long that will be.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

“You want us to start ushering again, don’t you?” Bea asked quietly.

“If Pete was, indeed, responsible for this mess, I see no reason not to get on with our business now that he’s locked up.” The mayor’s eyes darted from face to face, waiting for someone to contradict her. “Have any of you received new coins today?”

“I have,” I said.

“Me too,” Kevin called from the living room.

“We all have,” Joaquin said, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans and looking at his feet.

“Then those coins will be used first, as there’s no way Pete could have tampered with them,” the mayor said. “We need to start ushering the dark souls and admitted criminals off this island. Right now, we’re working on borrowed time. We’ll start tonight.”

“Tonight?” Krista blurted, glancing out at the sky.

“The sooner the better,” the mayor answered.

“But what about the other souls?” I interrupted. “The ones we know should head to the Light? And the children? How will we ever feel comfortable ushering them?”

“We’re just going to have to trust that everything will right itself,” the mayor said. “And then we’ll see.”

We’ll see.
Hopelessness settled in over my shoulders, thick and oozing, like the muddy dirt we’d dropped at Nadia’s and Cori’s graves.

“I wish Tristan would wake up,” Bea said. “Maybe whoever was working with Pete was with him that night at the gray house.”

We looked up the stairs where, aside from the usual rhythm of the rain against the windows, everything was still. There was nothing but shadows, the sliver of light under Tristan’s door, the dull crystal on the cut glass light fixture. But I could still see him standing there, his tan skin lit by an inner glow, as he smiled down at me. As he made me feel like I was the only girl he could ever love.

“I’m going up there,” I decided, skirting around Fisher.

“Why?” Krista asked.

“I’m going to talk to him,” I said, lifting my palms. “They say they can hear you, right? Maybe if he hears my voice…I don’t know. I’m just going to talk to him.”

“I’ll come with you,” Joaquin offered, his foot hitting the bottom step.

“No.”

He froze, and the rest of the world seemed to freeze along with him. “No?”

I couldn’t look him in the eye. Not right then. “I want to do this alone. I have to.”

“But I—”

“Jay,” Bea said. “Let her go. Who knows? Maybe it’ll work.”

I shot her a grateful smile and didn’t wait for him to answer. Instead I ran up the stairs two at a time and, finding myself in front of Tristan’s closed door, took a deep breath.

You can do this
,
I told myself.
He loves you. He even said so in his note. He never stopped loving you. If there’s anyone he’ll come back for, it’s you.

With these hopes ringing inside my mind, I pushed open the door. Lauren looked up. She’d been reading aloud to him from a book, seated in the desk chair next to the bed, but fell silent when she saw me. Her short dark hair was back in a plaid headband, and she wore a pink polo shirt, one corner of the collar just starting to fray.

“Any luck?” she asked.

I shook my head. “The Tses don’t know anything, and Pete is unconscious.”

She slumped back in the chair, the book going slack in her lap. “This is so very bad.”

“Mind if I talk to Tristan alone?” I asked.

She glanced at his face, so still it looked like a painting, then sighed. “Sure.” As she got up, she reached over to squeeze his hand, then walked out, closing the door behind her. I took the seat she’d just vacated. It was still warm.

“Hey, Tristan,” I began, and my voice broke.

I took in a staggered breath, blinking back a fresh wave of tears. Seeing him in this state, motionless and vulnerable, was so very wrong. The Tristan I knew was stronger than any of us, in both body and soul. I remembered, suddenly, the firmness of his arms as he kissed me for the first time. The warmth of his hand as he held tightly to my fingers, swinging our arms between us as we walked from the bridge into town. There had been a time, not that long ago, when there was such an amazing, hopeful, loving lightness in his eyes, and I’d brought it out of him. We were happy.

There was no way I was ready to let that go.

I reached out to take his hand and cupped it with both of mine.

“Tristan,” I said firmly, “I want you to know that I’m sorry I didn’t believe in you. I know I said that already yesterday, but I am. I am so, so sorry. I hope that you forgive me. No, I
know
that you’ll forgive me when you wake up. I know that you’ll understand.”

Tears fell from my eyes, and I bent forward, resting my forehead atop the back of my own hand. The top of my head hit his side, and I leaned into it, relishing any contact, wishing I could crawl in next to him and hold him close.

The thought that I might never see his eyes again. That I might never feel him hold me again. That I might never touch his lips again . . .

I had to force myself to breathe.

“Tristan, please,” I whispered, lifting my head and looking up at his placid face. “Please don’t die. Please don’t do this to me. I know that what I’m saying is selfish. I know it. I do. But I can’t take this anymore. I can’t handle losing you on top of everyone else. There are only so many people in this world I love, Tristan, and they’re all gone. Every one of them. Except you.”

I leaned back, willing him to blink, to gasp, to do anything. Anything to show me that he was still in there, that he could hear me, that he understood.

But there was nothing but the steady rise and fall of his breath, and the ticking of the grandfather clock downstairs.