Twenty-One

That was the moment I died.

I’d always wondered how death would feel. To be awake and alive one moment, and then to die. Would everything stop all at once? Would it be like stepping from sunlight into darkness? Would it be like falling asleep?

I used to think, yes, it would be like sleep. Like drifting into a dream that would go on forever. Never waking up again, but still having a presence. Being able to see the world as I used to know it, to keep watch over the people I loved, the way I felt Eloise did for me after she died.

And I thought I would see the people I’d lost—my parents and my sister. I thought they would be waiting for me. They would be there to walk me from one life into the next. We would hug and they would hold me, and I would tell them how much I had missed them. I was sure of that.

But this death was different.

It was more like stepping into the fog. If you’ve ever spent time by the ocean, you know the kind—thick, gray billows of mist that sweep in from the sea, blanket the beach and docks and town, so heavy you can’t see through it. But then it starts to roll out, just a little at first, letting some light in, allowing you to see the contours of houses, and people, and trees, and the tall masts of boats. In and out goes the fog.

And that’s how it was for me. Everything was obliterated—I was lost in a cloudy muddle—but then I began to see the things around me. Slowly at first, just a shadow here, a shape there. At first I heard only a buzzing, like static in my ears, but then sounds became more distinct. I could hear voices, one in particular calling my name.

Eloise, I thought, because who else would it be?

“Wake up!” a girl—not my sister—said.

I could barely hear her. The voice drifted in and out of my mind. Or maybe it was me, coming and going like waves on the beach. Would I stay, or would I wash away, out to sea?

“Are you there?” the girl asked. “Did he give you too much?”

“Am I dead?” I tried to ask, but my mouth wouldn’t move, and the words caught in my throat.

“I don’t know!” the girl’s voice said, so she must have heard me.

When Gram, Eloise, and I would go to the cemetery and straighten up my parents’ graves, my grandmother would call it “a thin place.” She said that at times, in certain locations, the wall between the living and the dead was so fragile, we could pass in and out, almost without knowing it, to be with one another. Eloise and I would always exchange looks. It sounded weirdly funny, but also comforting—to think our parents could be right there with us.

I felt as if just then, hearing that strange girl’s voice, I was in a thin place.

That meant that Eloise was near—she had to be.

I called her name.

“Oli,” my sister said back. “Oli Oli Oli Oli.”

“I love you, I missed you,” I said.

“I missed you.”

“But we’re together now.”

“Only for a minute in this way,” she said.

“What way?”

“Well, that you’re dead like me. But not for long?.?.?.”

“I’m on the other side?” I asked. “Of the wall? In the thin place?”

“Yes. And it will stay thin, Oli. I’ll be with you through what you are about to face. But you’ll go back to being alive, and I’ll still be dead. Believe that, Oli. Let me give every bit of what I know, what I’ve learned. Listen hard. You’ll hear me, Oli. I love you?.?.?.?I have to go now?.?.?.”

I couldn’t bear losing my sister again, so I drifted deeper into a dream of night, and when I came back into the reality of day, Eloise was gone. I felt small hands on my shoulders, shaking me hard, and I heard the strange girl’s voice again: “Open your eyes! You have to, come on!”

She was holding my wrist, pushing the rope bracelet out of the way, fingertips searching for my pulse. “I’ve got you, hold on to my voice, wake up, you can do it!”

The mental haze began to clear, and I saw a familiar face peering down at me. Just seeing her made me choke up because I saw the resemblance to Iris. They had the same dark hair and brown eyes.

“Hayley,” I said, my voice croaking. Finally I’d gotten to her, though not in the exact way I’d planned.

“How do you know my name?” she asked, sounding shocked.

“Iris told me.”

“You know my sister?” she asked, tears in her eyes.

I nodded.

“He killed her,” Hayley said. “A few days ago. He’s going to do the same to us.”

Right. She still believed Iris was dead. “No, he didn’t—” I tried to raise my head, look around for Iris. Hadn’t Hayley seen her, hadn’t Fitch brought her in here? Where was she?

“Do you know where we are?” Hayley asked.

“The attic?” I asked, and my throat was so dry, my voice was barely a squawk. “Hayley, we got to you in time.”

“?‘We’?” Hayley asked.

“Yes,” I said, craning my neck. I didn’t see Iris. That gave me a jolt. Daphne had said “the boy” had taken her inside the hotel. Maybe Iris was lying down across the room, still knocked out. Maybe Matt and Fitch were hiding, watching us.

“Who are you?” Hayley asked.

“My name is Olivia. Oli,” I said.

“How did he catch you?” Hayley asked. Her voice shook. She looked as if every good thing she had ever known or felt had left her forever.

I was flat on my back, on a thin mattress. I struggled to prop myself up on my elbows. I reached in my pocket for my phone, but it was gone. Someone had taken it.

I had a lot to tell Hayley, but first I had to establish a few crucial details. She had said “he.” But which one?

“Where is he now?” I asked.

“He went downstairs,” Hayley said.

“When will he be back? And what’s his name?” I asked, my heart pounding.

“He comes and goes,” she said, not answering my second question. “There’s no set time. It kind of depends on her.” Hayley pointed across the attic to a four-posted canopied bed where someone was sleeping. From here, I couldn’t tell who it was, but I had a pretty good guess.

I forced myself to stand up. It was hard, because of the strong sedatives Fitch had given me.

My determination to get us out of there made my muscles move. Hayley supported me so I wouldn’t topple over. My head felt fuzzy, but it was clearing up.

“Where’s Iris?” I asked, looking around.

Hayley’s expression became a combination of anger and wild grief. “I told you—he killed her. Right here in this attic—I watched him murder my sister.”

“No, Hayley,” I said. “She’s alive.”

Hayley’s eyes widened. “Don’t torture me! You’re still out of it, dreaming, I know what I saw! She wasn’t moving, he carried her out of here. I screamed and grabbed at him, but he shook me off and just kept going. I think he took her somewhere outside to bury her.”

“She survived,” I said. “He only thought she was dead. Hayley, I found her. I pulled her out of the ground. And she’s here. We came to the Miramar together.”

“But she’s not here,” Hayley said, her eyes wild. “Why are you saying she is? Don’t lie to me!”

I felt madly confused. If Iris wasn’t in the attic, where was she? Had Fitch and Matt done something terrible to her? The shock of it all felt like a bucket of ice water, and it had the effect of washing the rest of the cobwebs out of my brain.

“Look, Hayley,” I said. “You can believe me or not, but we’re getting out of this attic.”

I knew that Minerva had driven to get the map of the Miramar. When she returned and found both me and Iris gone, she and Daphne would take steps to find us. Rescue us from Fitch and Matt. Now was the time to call the police. But why was it taking her so long? What if the brochure wasn’t at the historical society after all? Maybe she had to go to the other places Daphne had mentioned.

Was that a look of hope on Hayley’s face? Or doubt? Most likely both.

“Do you promise my sister is alive?” Hayley asked.

“I do,” I said.

“Tell me everything about her,” Hayley said, her brown eyes wide. “What did she say, how did she look, did she talk about me?”

“She talked about you all the time. From the minute I found her, you were all she could think about. Every single thing she did was devoted to getting you out of here,” I said. “And she told me everything. About the Cat Castle. How you like to stay home and she likes to go out?.?.?.”

“I can’t believe it,” Hayley said. “For the last two days, I was sure that I’d never?.?.?.”

“I know, you thought you’d never see her again. But you will,” I said, even though the fact of Iris’s absence made me worry if that was true. “I have to know something. How many are there?”

“How many?”

“Yes,” I said. “Fitch and who else?”

“Fitch? Is that his name?” I nodded. “He’s the only one who comes in here. But?.?.?.” Hayley frowned as if trying to bring something to mind. “I think there might be someone else. Because ‘Fitch,’ if that’s who he is?.?.?.”

“I promise you, that’s who he is,” I said grimly. I wondered if Fitch had kept his name secret as a way to protect his identity. Or did he have enough of a conscience to keep a part of himself separate from what he was doing?

“Anyway, he always seems to know more than he should,” Hayley went on. “He stays overnight in one of the guest rooms, so he’s usually close by. There are cameras, but it’s got to be more than that.”

“Like what?”

“He can’t be watching the monitor every minute, can he?” she asked, looking up at the ceiling.

I couldn’t stop myself from looking up, too. There were two stuffed raptors—a snowy owl and a kestrel. “I wouldn’t think so.”

“It feels as if someone else is spying on us. Because there’s never any time between.”

“Time between what?” I asked.

“Between whatever happens in here and him arriving. Once, when he first brought us here, Iris and I rummaged through the drawers where he keeps his medical stuff, trying to find a weapon to attack him. There was no way he could have known that from downstairs, but just a couple minutes later he came through the door.”

“Couldn’t he have been watching the camera feed?” I asked.

She shrugged. “The cameras can’t cover the whole attic. There are blind spots.”

I was shaking. I remembered Iris telling me and Matt that someone had been spying on them in the attic. Matt had asked her questions about her imprisonment, seeming to care so much. But now I wondered—had he been the spy? Had his concern been fake, just to throw us off?

“Did you ever hear Fitch say the name Matt?” I asked Hayley, afraid to hear the answer.

“Yes,” Hayley said. “It surprised me, since he never told me his own name. Why, how do you know that?”

“I just do,” I said, my heart falling. “Go on.”

“Fitch told us he was in a nature club, that he had friends who would help him if we ever gave him trouble. Their names were Matt and Chris, he said. They were always there for him.”

So it was definite—Matt was part of this. My heart felt like a stone. I closed my eyes and turned away. I couldn’t stand hearing anything more.

I felt incredibly thirsty. Drinking water would flush the rest of the sedatives out of my system sooner. I paced the perimeter of the attic and found the bathroom—about the size of a closet. I cupped my hands, filled them with water from the faucet, and drank.

There was a mirror above the sink; I stared into my own eyes and saw a different girl than I’d been before.

My sister had been murdered by our friend.

And the boy I loved was evil.

I would never be the same again.