Chapter 9

I slipout the front door, down the porch stairs to the yard. Pale light dapples the small beach-grass lawn beyond the wild brush. It doesn't take long to locate the source. Hanging from low-lying bushes, tiny bell-shaped flowers emit a blue glow. I trek into the thicket and find a clearing where the bushes shimmer in bright clusters. I lean over to study them, regretting not bringing my notebook. There's no mention of these illuminated flowers in the Field Guide or the Legends book.

"I call them Midnight Lady Skirts," says a voice behind me.

"Hey!" I whirl around, heart thumping, half-expecting it to be Liam. But this boy is taller, paler, and thinner, waiflike. And he's wearing pajamas. Then it dawns on me. My mystery guide.

"You startled me the other night. Tonight, too."

The boy steps into the dim light, carrying a large drawing pad under one arm. "I didn't mean to scare you. I was out for my nightly stroll."

I size him up. The boy is so angular his cheekbones look sharp enough to cut through his skin, his dark eyes luminous and large—anything but a threat. "Don't worry about it. Thanks for the directions."

"I'm Evan." He offers me a gloved hand, the one that's not holding the sketchbook. "Evan Bailey."

I glance at the dark mansion. "As in Mrs. Bailey, the landlady?"

"I'm her son."

I'm pretty sure my eyes betray my surprise—why did my dad insist she lived alone, except for her grumpy butler?—but I manage to keep it together. "I'm Rosalie Gatell. As in, the daughter of the surprisingly alive Edward Gatell, erstwhile author and current employee of Mrs. Bailey."

"I've heard about you," Evan says.

"Everyone seems to have heard of me. But I've never heard of you."

His smile is full of good humor. "I'm one of Salttain Island's best-kept secrets."

"Secrets are a cottage industry here. Why don't you come out in daylight?" I say, only half-joking.

"Cause I sparkle too much in the sun." He plucks a sprig of glowing flowers, twirls it in his gloved fingers, then tilts his head and takes a step back. "Seriously, moonlight inspires me. I'm an artist."

I get the sense that I've met yet another denizen of Salttain Island with something to hide. "A vampire artist who only draws at night. Interesting. What's with the gloves?"

"I don't like getting my hands dirty."

On Salttain, of all places, where things grow so easily, this seems like a terrible shame. "Um, okay. If you say so."

"This may seem presumptuous after we've just met, but I don't have many people to pose for me. Would you, uh, let me draw you sometime? It would be for the night shift. Because, well…it's hard for me to get away during the day."

I chew on a nail and consider asking why. This guy is clearly another island lulu. But maybe this poor lonely dude can provide me with some local intel. At the very least, he seems to need a friend.

To be honest, I can use one as well.

"Okay. Sure."

Evan's smile lights up his entire face. "Meet me tomorrow at two a.m. My mother is usually out cold by then. Don't mention you met me to anyone, okay?"

Sure—why not?

* * *

The next day,I set out for the town, nearly good as new, a heat-seeking missile on a mission to find that trickster waiter and demand my notes back. Dad's out doing lord knows what for Mrs. Bailey and her secret son on this little slab of rock, so hopefully he'll never notice I've left.

By the time I get to town, my leg aches. There's no sign of Liam, so I pop into the café. It's busy today, crowded with patrons. I buy a lemonade from a girl behind the counter, sit down at the ancient workstation, and log onto Reddit. It's only then I notice the eerily cheerful Brody Lambert down at the far end of the counter, taking sandwich orders. Luckily, he doesn't notice me, or I'm sure he'd make a public service announcement about my arrival.

The tributes to Tyler are still pouring in on the main forum. Q and Wave have sent multiple DMs wanting updates. Of course, I can't give them the real lowdown—that the local island Romeo has absconded with my field notes, and the resurrected Patron Saint of Climate Justice thinks the place is protected from environmental ruination by a magic spell—so I make up some plausible BS about soil/sand acidity and ocean flora. Something that sounds good.

ThenI log into my email and find another message from Mom.

Sweetheart,

I know exactly where you are, and to be honest, I'm quite disappointed you didn't simply tell me you'd decided to go on this wild adventure. While I'm displeased about Cambridge, I understand that you've been going through a lot lately.

Luckily, I know the Program Director well. He's holding your place open for two weeks as a personal favor.

Tell me when you're ready to depart, and I will purchase your airline tickets. I'm wiring money to your father for any other needs you may have.

Love,

Mom

I stare at the screen,formulating my response. I try to keep my words bland, but my fury bleeds through. The absolute goddamned nerve of her.

Dear Mom,

I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me, but I guess I needed a break between school and Cambridge. I'm really glad I came, though, since there was someone here you neglected to mention is actually alive. My dead father whom you are about to wire money to.

HOW COULD YOU KEEP THIS FROM ME?

Given your lies, I'm not sure what my next move is—just that when I do see you again, if I decide I want to see you again, you have a shitload of explaining to do.

Rosalie

Damn her.Damn them all.

My hands ball into fists. It"s all her fault. If she hadn't kept me in the dark and on such a short leash, the whole trip here with Tyler could have been planned like we were normal human beings. There would have been no deadly boat ride. Tyler would be here, sitting next to me on a stool, snarfing sips of my lemonade.

The jagged sorrow that fills my chest makes it hard to breathe.

A sharp rap on the window glass startles me out of my tailspin. Wade Lambert strolls in and pulls up the stool next to me. I groan inwardly, not in the mood for small talk. But too late.

"Not a great way to start your summer, eh? How's the leg?"

Of course, he's heard what happened. I sigh and slurp down the last of my lemonade. "It's fine. But you probably knew that already."

Wade laughs. "Liam told me."

I give Wade a once-over. He seems pleasant enough, but I get the distinct sense that he wants something. "Tell him thank you."

"You know, I can give you a tour around the island on my skiff. Lots of cool stuff to see. I've lived here all my life."

"Um, okay. Not today, though." I maintain my polite smile, hoping he'll take the hint and leave.

He smiles back, but there's something cold about it. "You should be more careful about wandering off-trail the way you did. There are bog-holes out there that swallow people up without a trace."

I set my glass on the counter. "Bog-holes?" Sounds like an environmental curiosity worth exploring. Sinkholes are usually a sign of drainage issues and excessive rainfall.

"One minute you're on solid ground and the next it gives way. Liam and me, we know where they are. You could have fallen through one. Like Charles Bailey did."

I sit up straighter. "Charles Bailey? The rich lady's husband?"

"Yep. Dude built the resort and anything else worth spit on this island. You'd think since he grew up here, he'd know better. Least that's the theory. No one really knows what happened to the guy." Wade pulls his stool closer and says in a low voice, "Them bog-holes give up their dead eventually."

Great…could he get any creepier? "Hmm. I'll do my best to avoid them," I say, forcing my smile to remain steady. "Um, it was really nice seeing you again." Now please leave.

"Yeah. Likewise." His eyes rake me over in a way that makes me want to crawl under the workstation desk. "Offer still stands on the boat ride. Safest way to get around. I can take you to see the abandoned lighthouse on the other side of the island. That's near where me and my family live." He glances over to the counter and waves at Brody, who is now looking our way. "That's my big bro."

I shiver and nod. Great. Double the fun. "Thanks. I'll definitely take you up on the boat tour another day." Hint, hint.

When he doesn't budge, I heave an inward sigh. Maybe I can pry some information out of him. Unlike Sphinx-boy Liam, who won't tell me anything, this dude won't shut up. "You guys live here year-round? Doesn't it get boring in the winter?"

Wade shrugs. "It gets a bit bleak. The ferry shuts down and all." His face brightens. "But we have parties. Lots of parties."

Hmmm. "Sounds like fun. Do most of the islanders stick around, then?"

He grins at me, like he can tell what I'm really asking. "Sure. Except for Liam. His family shows up in early June and leaves after Labor Day. Don't know where they go."

"His family?" I keep my tone neutral, not wanting to betray how much I want to learn more about the pretty-boy thief with a knack for finding healing berries. Given how everyone's up in everyone else's business here, he'd probably find out about it three seconds after Wade walks away.

"Him, his sister, and mother have a little cottage on the northeast side. He doesn't have a da, you know," Wade says. "It's pretty remote out there, so they don't get visitors. I think that's how they like it."

"He has a sister?" My mind flashes to the girl on the motorbike, that night on the beach.

"Aurora's a hellcat. She'll scratch your eyes out if you get near him. If I had my choice, I'd go for the bog-holes."

I shudder. "Sounds lovely."

"Best advice is to stay away from all of them O'Donnells."

"I thought you were friends."

"More like associates," Wade says. "O'Donnells don't let anyone close enough to have actual friends." He gets up to leave, finally taking the hint. "Yeah, well. I best get going. See you around, Rosalie."

I watch him walk away. Outside, the formerly sunny day has gone dark. The wind kicks up, rattling the store window. I stand in the threshold of the café and watch the whitecaps bob on the ocean. An armada of thick clouds sits on the horizon. I blink, wondering if I'm having a flashback of the night Tyler died.

When I open my eyes, a real storm is brewing off the coast of Salttain Island.