I could wake up and find out all of this was a nightmare.”
And I wish I could make this come true.
Cadence unlocks the gate, and we trudge over the icy wooden boards of the dock. In the mist, the boat is nothing more than a shadowy mass until we’re practically on top of it. After being in the manoir, I was expecting the boat to be a goliath navigational showcase. But, for once, Rainier seems to have reined in his ostentatious taste. A midsized walkaround bobs at the end of the dock, between a deicer and a specially-made ramp for wheelchair access.
I hug Emilie’s body to my chest as I straddle the gunwale. Cadence is already unlocking the cabin door, and Bastian starts to lift the buoys and unlatch the ropes hooking the vessel to the dock. Above us, a crow stains the mist like an inkblot, dipping so low I swear I can feel the flap of its wings against my forehead. Its caws are loud and abrasive and raise the hairs on the back of my neck. Bastian swears and waves his arms at it. It carves back into the mist but leaves me with a fist of dread clenching my gut.
The motor starts, discharging a jet of exhaust. Cadence is at the helm, brows furrowed in concentration. Any other time, I’d be going on about how sexy she looks in control. But right now, the only thing on my mind is the horror of the situation.
We cut through the fog, Cadence guided by the glowing screen of the GPS.
The din of the motor is muffled by the pounding of my heart. I remind myself to breathe, but when I take a breath, I smell Emilie.
“We’re really doing this, huh?” Bastian asks.
“Have another suggestion?” It comes out sharper than necessary.
Bastian looks away and into the white cloud surrounding us. I should apologize but don’t.
The boat shudders to a standstill, and Cadence turns her red-rimmed eyes to us. “This is the deepest part of the lake.”
With the motor off and the mist suffocating us like a pillow, the only sound is our strained breaths. I’ve only been to church a few times in my life—foster mom number two dragged us there on Sundays to atone for her religious use of illegal substances—but kneeling on the cold floor of the stern throws me straight back to those wooden pews and silent stretches of prayer. No matter how many times I swallow, I can’t get rid of the prickling in my throat.
I peel away the sheet, exposing the kid’s moon-pale flesh. Emilie looks asleep, her eyes closed, her little rosebud mouth slightly parted. I lift her, cradling her against my pounding heart and lean over the gunwale. I hesitate, but then loosen my grip and her body rolls away and splashes into the steel gray water.
Her hair spreads and dances around her like dripping honey. Her pink pajamas create a bright, incongruous spot in the silver mist. But then the water grabs hold of her and tugs her under. We watch until the surface of the water is once again smooth and gray.
Cadence muffles her sobs in her coat collar as she starts the motor and makes a tight U-turn back toward the dock. None of us say a word.
The cold air slaps my face, coaxing tears from me. I squeeze the bridge of my nose and shut my eyes, but only manage to get myself under control when we’re mooring the boat.
The three of us stare at the dock but don’t make a move to get out.
Damp trails glitter on Cadence’s cheeks. Even Bastian is bawling. I grip his shoulder and squeeze. Then I slide my arms around Cadence’s waist and reel her in, inhaling her warmth, reveling in the sound of her beating heart. I hold her tight, to keep her, and myself, from shattering.
34
Cadence
It’s been five days since we fed Emilie to the lake. Five days since we all retreated into our own heads, trying to deal with the little girl’s death, yet knowing we can’t hide from the Quatrefoil’s dark magic forever.
Five quiet days.
Classes were canceled, and half the student body fled Brume the moment Geoffrey announced the new viral outbreak. Those who stayed have mostly remained indoors, holing themselves up behind fogged windows, watching the cloud cover pour snow so thick it looks like clumps of down.
Or at least, that’s what I did.
I’ve been traveling between my bed, window seat, and kitchen, trying not to think