The Dark Light (11 page)

As I carefully replaced the shirt, I tugged at the spine of a book, wedged down the side of the trunk.

Symbols in Legend and Mythology.

The dream bird book. As I pulled on the spine, the book caught on something beneath.

“It can’t be . . .”

I reached in, and then slowly withdrew my mom’s necklace.

With all that had happened, I hadn’t given it a thought. Now I remembered. Almost twenty-four hours ago the necklace had been around my neck. I’d worn it when I’d taken off after Jay. I saw myself in the kitchen with Pete and the sheriff, standing
outside Jay’s room, lying in my bed. I hadn’t been wearing it then. I was
certain
.

It was definitely the same necklace; only the clasp was broken. A long strand of chocolate-colored hair was tangled in the links.

Images flashed. Sol bowled into me from behind.
Was that when he’d taken it?
But why? I didn’t feel it fall. Because it hadn’t fallen; the broken clasp was evidence of that. It had been torn from my neck.

The light brightened in the room. Necklace tight in my fist, I sprang to the window. Sol’s truck pulled up outside.

My feet barely hit the stairs as I bolted for the kitchen, every nerve in my body on high alert. How long did I have? Minutes? Seconds?

I hurtled into the back door. The necklace snagged in the latch as I battled to slide it free. The harder I pulled, the more the latch refused to budge. Footsteps approached outside.

“Come on.
Think!
”

My gaze swept down and relief followed. The bolt was pushed down in its cradle. It slid effortlessly when I lifted it. Cool air rushed inside.

I’d barely cleared the lawn when Sol shouted. The darkness between the trees beckoned. It was like last night all over again, only this time
I
was the one pursued.

I heeded no obstacle, barreling through branches and brush, darting between the never-ending trunks that threatened to block my path, fleeing from that sword and the map and a truth I was no longer certain I wanted to know.

All the time, Sol drew closer, the sounds of his pursuit echoing through the wood.

On and on. Like an out-of-body experience, I saw myself as if from above. Only the biting pain from the necklace, tightly crushed in my fist, anchored me to my body.

My pace slowed as the land rose. I didn’t look back. The river on my right kept my path straight. Rocks appeared beneath my feet. I approached the Ridge.

Head down, I powered up the final rise. Any second I’d burst free of the trees and could turn for the road and pray that someone passed. Maybe the officers and deputies were still out searching for Jay. The thought spurred me on. A hundred feet. Fifty. I neared an opening in the trees.

Only seconds passed before I lunged out of the shadowy darkness and out onto the Ridge. The final tips of sunset faded out to the west. The moon hung low in the east. But there were no officers, no sheriff, nothing to mark this as the place where Jay had vanished.

I’d barely cleared thirty feet from the trees when Sol bolted onto the Ridge.

“Mia! Stop.”

“The sheriff’s on his way,” I yelled. I continued to run, panicked, picturing him seizing me and hurling me into the river.

No reply came.

Hoping the threat would make him flee, I veered toward the track that led back to the road. Leaves rustled to my left.

Sol emerged, lower on the slope—he must have ducked back into the woods and swerved around. He stood within paces of the path, my only route to the road. Flight or fight governed my response. I turned and fled back toward the Ridge.

His heavy steps followed as soon as I moved. “Don’t! Mia.”

I spun around. Sol had stopped, a safe distance away. He watched me intently. His shoulders and chest rose and fell with his rapid breaths. He reached out his hand. “Come down, Mia,” he said.

I shook my head. “Where’s my brother?”

“Mia.” Sol took several steps.

I stepped back, inching closer to the edge of the Ridge and the forty-foot drop to the river.

“Mia, don’t.”

I glanced behind me. The drop was less than twenty feet away. “Don’t come any closer,” I warned. “I’ll jump.”

With hands raised, Sol approached slowly.

“I’m serious.” I cried. “I’ll jump!”

My eyes darted left and right, frantically searching for
escape. With Sol’s hands still raised, I imagined them around my neck, him squeezing just like when he’d twisted the wheel in his truck.

To my surprise, Sol stopped. He lowered his hands. “Come down from there, Mia,” he said. “I’ll explain. I promise.”

“How will you explain this?” I yelled. Almost defeated, fighting back tears, I brandished the necklace tight in my fist. “You lied, Sol. You saw the light. You saw the man. I saw the map! Tell me who took Jay!”

Sol’s eyes widened. “I promise I’ll tell you everything,” he said, rapidly. “
Please.
You have to come down from there.”

I took another step away.

“MIA, DON’T!”

Something in Sol’s voice stopped me. He dashed up the Ridge. Every movement registered in my mind in slow motion. Shock covered his face, yet never once did he look at me. His gaze was fixed behind and beyond.

Cautiously, I turned around.

Light covered the Ridge. In the center, ribbons of color tumbled through a bright opening. The light widened and stretched. Still it grew—stronger and more vibrant than the night before. It spread to the trees and reached for the sky, a massive gemstone wall eclipsing the night.

Mesmerized, my gaze fixed on the bright epicenter.

“He’s in there,” I whispered.

The threat of Sol forgotten, I saw Jay’s empty room, his computer idle on the desk, his clothes unworn in his closet. There were no more sounds of Jay and Stacey Ann clowning around in the yard. No more
thump, thump
of the basketball against the side of the house.

The light covered everything. Was it Heaven? Was that where I’d find Jay?

As if from a million miles away, I heard Sol yell my name. I didn’t care. All I wanted was Jay.

Closing my eyes, I walked into the light.

T
he light vanished. The breeze lifted. Once again, I found myself facedown in the dirt. I must have blacked out. But then I remembered Sol on the Ridge and the fear in his eyes. He’d seen the lights too.

Disoriented, I pushed myself onto my knees, but got no higher before a hand grabbed my arm. A sense of danger crashed over me and I prepared to scream. The hand on my arm covered my mouth, silencing me before I could shout.

“Quiet! They’ll hear,” hissed Sol.

With one hand still covering my mouth, his other gripped my arm so tightly it felt as if his fingers were pressing into the bone.

Struck with terror, I couldn’t take my eyes off his face. He scanned the horizon. The scent of wood smoke drifted on the air.

“Don’t make a sound,” he whispered.

So this was it. Death. Sol didn’t have the sword, but he could easily have a gun or maybe a knife. I knew his secret: He
was
connected to Jay and those boys. There was nothing left for him to do but finish me off.

I screwed my eyes shut and tried not to imagine what the end would feel like. A quick stab, a short burst of pain, and then over? Or maybe he’d do something worse—leave me here far from aid, slashed and torn, powerless to stop my life from seeping into the dirt. Somewhere in the blackness, a bell tolled like the death knells I’d read of in Gothic novels. I knew it rang for me.

But the stab, the pain, the shot never came.

“We have to move.”

Stunned, I peeked open an eye. Sol’s hand remained over my mouth. He pulled my body against his chest. “Can you get up?” he asked, his face inches from mine. “Are you hurt?”

Confusion replaced fear. Sol wasn’t trying to kill me. His eyes were wide, his body tense. He looked as scared as I was. And the way he was holding me . . . it was almost
protective
. He scanned the darkness, poised, alert. And then it struck me:
What the hell was that bell? And if it didn’t ring for me, then why?

My eyes tracked the path of his gaze. My mouth dropped open behind his hand.

We were on the Ridge, or at least it looked like the Ridge. There were the same trees and the same grass. Water flowed behind us. But ahead, where the road once ran, the trees were more widely spaced than those that surrounded the Ridge. Distant lights hung between the trees. Unlike the lights that had taken Jay, these were orange beacons like lamplights suspended in darkness. Around them stood the silhouettes of squat buildings. The scent of smoke strengthened. The bell continued to toll.

Panic surged as I struggled to make sense of my surroundings. There should be farmland and prairie all the way to Onaly! No buildings. No lights. Nothing.

Mind in meltdown, I pushed away from Sol’s arms and tried to rise. Strength fled from my legs and I toppled back onto my butt.

Sol grabbed me. He clamped his hand over my mouth again.

“Mia, don’t!” he said. Slowly, gently, he turned my face to his. “I will let you go, but you can’t make a sound.”

I stared into his eyes, clinging to his voice as if to a raft at sea. It was the only thing here that made sense.

“Don’t speak,” he continued. “Don’t even think. We’re going to get up, and then we’re going to run.”

Leaves rustled to our right. Sol’s gaze swept toward the
sound. He squeezed my hand and sniffed the air like a dog on the scent of impending danger.

“Now!”

Though he almost tugged my arm from its socket, I didn’t let go of Sol’s hand. He wasn’t going to kill me—that much was obvious. Not yet, at least. Whatever was happening, I had only one mission: to stay on my feet.

Vaulting rocks, we tore into the woods. A growl rose from behind. The sound came from deep within the chest of something best left unseen. Terrified, I ran hard. Another growl. This time from the left. A shriek carried through the night as if in answer to the guttural growl.

Sol stopped. This time he pulled me down.
“Wait.”

Crouched in the undergrowth, I looked from tree to tree, every muscle in my body on alert. A town was now visible at the bottom of the hill. Empty, burned shells of houses and shanties made of wood and stone edged the settlement. It wasn’t Crownsville.

“What is this place?” I whispered. “Sol?”

I turned to face him, expecting no answer, simply needing to remind myself that I wasn’t alone. Something in Sol had changed. His shoulders were back and straight, his chin raised. The fear had fled from his eyes.

“This is the other world,” he said. “The one you’re not meant to see.”

* * *

After clearing the woods, we sprinted a short distance to a metal shack on the edge of town, ducking into the shadows beneath its overhanging roof. Safely out of sight—of what, I still didn’t know—Sol surveyed our path.

“It seems clear,” he said. “But we’re not there yet.”

A long scream resonated across the town. Two more followed. Whatever shriek we’d heard in the woods, this was not it. This was human. I backed up against the shack. Sol must have seen the look in my eyes. He shook his head.

“Mia . . .”

Throat constricting, mouth dry, I whispered, “I won’t yell,” though the scream rang in my ears. “Who was that?”

Sol sighed deeply, the sound laced with regret and despair. “Someone who got careless,” he said.

The hut was cold against my back, but I couldn’t tell if that or the scream chilled me more. Or maybe it was the expression on Sol’s face. But as always with Sol, it didn’t last. No sooner were his feelings visible than he reined them back.

“You take your chances in Bordertown at night,” he said.

Bordertown? The border of what?

I watched as he crept from the shadows and checked the road ahead. Finally, I understood.

“You know this place,” I whispered.

The bell rang, followed by another scream. But I saw and heard only Sol. He turned his head to his shoulder, his strong profile lit by the faint orange lights of the town.

“It’s where I come from.”

His words lingered, echoing through my mind as if I heard them from the bottom of a deep, deep well. This was a dream. It had to be. Sol was the new guy at Crownsville High. He’d moved to Crownsville for a fresh start or to get away from trouble like Kieran had said. He couldn’t have come from here; there wasn’t any place on the Ridge for him to have come from. But the map. The
sword
. . .

I went to his side. It was as if we were meeting for the very first time. Everything I thought I knew about Sol collapsed, but now his silence and secrets made sense.

“We’ll cut between those houses,” he said, pointing to the right. “Don’t stop for anything. Just believe me. We’re in danger.”

We kept to the muddy alleys, passing building after building each different from its neighbor. The farther we ran into town, the more houses appeared. But not homes like in Crownsville or Omaha. These were tightly packed, smaller, some of stone, some of wood, most patched with sheets of metal or nail-ridden planks where chunks of plaster had fallen.

Streets twisted and turned until I was hopelessly lost. Cobblestones paved one street, then the next was dirt, straw, then stone
again. There was no pattern, no consistency, but the tolling bell, and the occasional light from a shuttered window.

We ducked down another alley, far from the Ridge. It smelled of bread, earth, and something sweet, like long-ripened fruit. A low-lying mist hung over the ground. It thickened at the head of the alley.

Sol raised his hand
. Wait!

Through the mist, I caught movement near the ground, by where the alley opened onto the street. Limbs appeared and something scurried away. I grabbed Sol’s arm as he crept closer still. “Are you crazy?”

There were more tap-taps of claws against stone. Whatever had been growling before in the woods was there lurking in the mist, I knew it. For the first time in my life, I wished I had Pete’s shotgun. A chirrup, like a chipmunk or water rat, echoed and the creature appeared.