Part 38 (1/2)

and there stood no one

and no one entered

and no one said: welcome

and no one answered: at last”

Our shadows were as tall as trees with nothing to block them. It was like we were on another planet, here in this scrubby area, shallow stretches of water suddenly glowing orange and pink, the exact same color of the sunset. I didn't know where else to look for Cole's body. There was no sign of it for yards around, other than his blood, dotted on blades of gra.s.s and pooled in hollows.

”Maybe he dragged himself to the woods,” Sam said in a flat voice. ”Instinct would tell him to hide, even if he was dying.”

My heart sped. ”Do you think -”

”There's too much blood,” Sam replied. He didn't look at me. ”Look at all of it. Think of how I couldn't even heal myself from a single shot in the neck. He couldn't have healed himself. I just hope ... I just hope he wasn't afraid when he died.”

I didn't say what I was thinking: But we'd all been afraid.

Together, we combed the edge of the woods, just in case. Even as it fell dark, we kept looking, because we both knew that scent would help us more than our sight anyway.

But there was no sign of him. In the end, Cole St. Clair had done what he did best.

Disappeared.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN.

* ISABEL *

When we first moved to this house, the piano room was the only room that I loved. I'd hated that we'd moved from California to a state equally far from both oceans my country had to offer. I hated the old, moldy smell of the house and the creepy woods around it. I'd hated how it made my angry brother even angrier. I hated the way my bedroom had slanted walls and the stairs creaked and the kitchen had ants, no matter how expensive the appliances were.

But I'd loved the piano room. It was a round room made up half of windows and half of short wall sections painted deep burgundy. There wasn't anything in the room but the piano, three chairs, and a chandelier that was amazingly non-tacky, given the rest of the house's lighting decor.

I didn't play the piano, but I liked to sit on the bench, anyway, my back to the piano, and look out the windows into the woods. They didn't seem creepy from inside, with a safe distance between me and them. There might have been monsters in them, but nothing that could contend with twenty yards of yard, an inch of gla.s.s, and a Steinway. The best way to experience nature, I'd thought.

I still had days when I thought that was the best way to deal with it.

Tonight, I ventured down from my bedroom, avoiding my parents, who were talking in hushed voices in the library, and crept into the piano room. I shut the door so that it wouldn't make any sound and sat cross-legged on the bench. It was night, so there was nothing to see outside the windows except for the circle of gra.s.s lit by the back door light. It didn't really matter that I couldn't see the trees, though. There were no monsters in them anymore.

I pulled my hoodie around me and drew my legs up to my chest, sitting sideways on the bench. It felt like I'd always been cold here in Minnesota. I kept waiting for it to get to summer, but it never seemed to make it that far.

California didn't sound like a terrible idea at the moment. I wanted to dig myself into the sand and hibernate until I didn't feel so hollow inside.

When my phone rang, I jerked and slammed my elbow into the keyboard of the piano, which let out a low, agonized thud. I hadn't realized the phone was still in my pocket.

I pulled it out and looked at the caller ID - Beck's house. I really wasn't up for sounding like the Isabel that they knew. Why couldn't they just give me one night?

I put it to my ear. ”What?”

There was nothing on the other end. I checked to make sure the phone had a signal. ”What? h.e.l.lo? Is there anybody there?”

”Da.”

I had no bones left in my body. I slid off the bench, trying to hold the phone to my ear still, trying to hold my head up because my muscles felt completely unequal to the task. My heart was clubbing so painfully in my ears that it took me a moment to realize that if he'd said something else, I wouldn't have heard it.

”You,” I snarled, because I couldn't think of anything else to say. I was sure the rest of the sentence would come to me. ”You scared the s.h.i.+t out of me!”

He laughed then, that laugh that I'd heard at the clinic, and I started to cry.

”Now Ringo and I have even more in common,” Cole said. ”Your father's shot both of us. How many people can say that? Are you choking on something?”

I thought about picking myself back off the floor, but my legs were still unsteady. ”Yeah. Yeah, that's exactly what I'm doing, Cole.”

”I forgot to say that was who was calling.”

”Where were you?”

He made a dismissive noise. ”In the woods. Regrowing my spleen or something. Also, parts of my thighs. I'm not sure my better parts work anymore. You're welcome to come over and take a look under the hood.”

”Cole,” I said, ”I have to tell you something.”

”I saw,” he replied. ”I know what you did.”

”I'm sorry.”

He paused. ”I know you are.”

”Do Sam and Grace know you're alive?”

Cole said, ”I'll have a joyous reunion with them later. I needed to call you first.”