her. She had my face. Thinner than mine, cheeks sunken, rings around her eyes nearly as deep as bruises, but she could have been my twin. She put out her hand. The fingers were rough with calluses and scars, healed-over cuts and fresh ones. Grime caked the creases of her palm.
Apprehension skittered over my skin, like a creature with too many legs. Her fingers twitched. Waiting. I looked back. Moriarty flew high, free of the man’s grasping hands, and the man’s attention turned to me once more.
I took her hand.
She spun at once, pulling me with her. Off the road and away from the house, running straight for the rocks and the water. She didn’t head down toward the pebbled beach but out along a spit of tumbled boulders, black and scabbed over with barnacles and mussels. If I slipped, they’d tear my skin open.
The man had slowed, forced to clamber over the rocks and far less nimble than we were. But he was still coming. I looked at my twin. She pressed a finger to her lips, dropping my hand. She fell back a step and I had to pivot to still face her.
“Do you remember?” she asked.
“Remember what?” I replied helplessly. He was coming. We didn’t have time to chat.
She shook her head sadly. “Listen,” she said, and she grabbed both my hands.
The hum in my bones, the sound I had almost stopped noticing, swelled and swelled, growing so loud it made my teeth ache and my skull feel like it was splitting. I opened my mouth to scream, but the sound that came out was something else entirely—a sound like the clamor of birds.
My feet went out from under me on the slippery rocks, and then I was falling. Light and dark broke around me, warring for dominance, and then I hit something—hard—and the darkness won.
15
I WOKE UP warm, which was the only good thing about my circumstances. My eyes felt crusty, and the idea of opening them was exhausting, so I took an inventory of myself instead. What I had: pain, a lot of it, shooting in jagged pulses from the back of my skull to the base of my spine. What I didn’t have: clothes. My bra and underpants were still on, wet but warm, but the rest of my skin was in direct contact with whatever rough, woven blanket was covering me.
A blanket seemed good. People generally didn’t cover you nicely with warm blankets when they were intent on bludgeoning you to death.
I couldn’t hear anything but the omnipresent ocean. It was muffled—I was obviously indoors—but close. I could smell it, the salty tang of the ocean air, but that was everywhere on Bitter Rock. Along with the ocean was the smell of woodsmoke.
Nothing for it. I forced my eyes open and found myself staring up at the wooden beams of a ceiling. Not very informative. I pushed myself cautiously upright. My head throbbed and my back gave a spasm of protest, but nothing seemed broken and I didn’t immediately pass out, which I assumed were good signs.
The room I was in was tiny and wood paneled. The smell of the blankets told me the narrow bed hadn’t been used in a long time. There were clothes folded at the end of the bed. An old, soft gray sweater, a long brown skirt, socks that looked bulky and wonderfully warm. I pulled them on eagerly. I felt a bit braver with something between me and the outside world, even if it was just wool. By the time I was done getting dressed, my aches and pains were working themselves loose. My fingers found a hole in the cuff as I stole my way to the door.
Unlocked. I let out a breath, tension easing out of me. The room beyond wasn’t as cramped as the bedroom, but it was built on about the same scale, woodstove and table and fireplace crammed together. My clothes were draped over a rack near the woodstove. A heavy coat hung on a peg by the front door, and blue curtains covered the windows, blocking the light so only the glow of the fireplace illuminated the interior. There were only three doors: one to the outside, one open and leading to a tiny bathroom, the last to my right. Another bedroom, maybe.
How had I gotten here? I’d dreamed— No. My mind grabbed at that nearly sane explanation, but I shoved it away. It hadn’t been a dream.