27

I t all went to hell during Pre-Calculus.

A pressure pounded in Miles's temples that he blamed on the drone of Mr. Walden's voice and the unnecessarily complicated equations on the whiteboard. Math had always been his least favorite subject, the numbers and formulas never clicking right in his brain and always making him assume he was several steps behind everyone else. Running on a few hours of sleep didn't help.

He stifled a yawn, glancing out the window that overlooked part of the track and field. Sometimes, kids would be out there running, wheezing like they were on the brink of death, and Miles suddenly wouldn't feel so bad about being stuck in Pre-Calculus.

Instead of the track, he found himself staring at a lake.

Miles blinked in disbelief.

When he turned back to the class to demand if anyone else could see it, the room was empty around him, the lights off. He was sitting alone in the dark. All the surrounding students had vanished, even Mr. Walden and his droning voice missing.

What was happening?

His heart galloping, he turned back to the window. Frost was spreading out from the corners, his frightened gasps coming out in white puffs. The lake was ink-black, completely smooth, tendrils of ghostly fog creeping along the pebbled shore.

He recognized it—it was the lake from the Hawthorne estate.

A ripple fractured the glassy water as something surfaced in the center, the top of a dark head, slick and wet, cloudy eyes that Miles could feel boring into him. Pinning him in place. It continued to rise—a pale face, thin bony shoulders, a translucent nightgown soaked through by the lake—until Jocelyn Hawthorne fully emerged. She hovered slightly above the water, the hem of her dress dripping as mist swirled hungrily around her bare feet.

Her bloodless lips parted. " The future remains unchanged."

Miles could feel her words vibrating the wood of his desk under his hands, trembling in the very air.

Behind him, something squeaked sharply, the familiar sound of a pen against the whiteboard. When he turned, the entire board was covered in jagged, black words.

The future remains unchanged.

Again and again, scribbled over every inch. They seemed to throb against the board, pulsing against Miles's skin.

The future remains unchanged.

The future remains unchanged.

Someone grabbed his shoulder and he jumped, a shrill gasp of terror ripping from his lungs.

"Are you okay?"

Miles panted up at Mr. Walden, his chest heaving as if he'd run a mile. Around him, all his classmates were staring, twisting in their seats and peering over each other to see what was going on. The whiteboard was clear except for a few equations in purple marker and this week's homework schedule.

"Miles? Are you okay?" Mr. Walden repeated, his eyebrows creased together in concern. His hand tightened on Miles's shoulder, probably afraid he was going to fall over.

Sweat slicked Miles's body, his teeth chattering like he'd been out in a snowstorm with no shoes. His hands were aching where they gripped his desk, and he made himself let go with a painful flex of his fingers.

He wasn't okay. Not even close.

"I need to go to the nurse," he blurted out. There were a few soft murmurs of laughter through the class.

Mr. Walden nodded, hovering as Miles rose on wobbly legs and grabbed his bag. Heat dribbled onto his lip and he tasted the familiar metallic tang of blood.

The entire class was whispering, an uncomfortable hiss that followed him out the door and into the hallway. When the door closed behind him, the sound made him flinch.

He stumbled to the nearest bathroom, hunching over the sink as his bleeding nose slowly turned it into a crime scene. In his peripheral, the walls tilted and warped, mirror rippling. His shirt was plastered to his back with sweat.

Breathe . He needed to breathe.

With every steady drip of blood onto the white porcelain, he forced himself to take a breath. In and out. In and out, until the walls stopped moving and his nose stopped bleeding.

He felt sick. His whole body ached. Jocelyn's words were sounding in his ears with every beat of his heart.

Another vision. Another warning.

How was that possible? Florence was banished. Gabriel was supposed to be safe.

Last night, he'd sealed Florence's ring in a bottle of salt and herbs and tucked it safely in the bottom drawer of his desk. If someone was planning on summoning her, they'd have to find another item to tether her to.

Maybe they'd been wrong a second time. Or Charlee was right, and it was impossible to change the future. Perhaps with Florence gone, fate had simply brought another killer into the fold because Gabriel was destined to die. Just as Florence had taunted him.

Miles's sight blurred with tears of frustration. He blinked them away. He wanted to tell the whole universe to leave him alone, let him crawl into his bed and sleep for a hundred years, or at least until everything sorted itself out. Until whoever was going to kill Gabriel got hit by a karma-bus, until Jocelyn realized she needed to dump her stupid, cryptic death prophecies on someone more capable.

A warrior. A noble knight.

What a joke.

Useless. He was completely and utterly useless.

He dug his phone out—he needed to warn Gabriel.

It rang and rang, eventually going to automatic voicemail. Hanging up, he tried again. With every unanswered ring, his heart sank further.

Something was wrong.

He'd sensed it this morning, a niggling feeling in the back of his mind when he saw Gabriel, but he'd ignored it. Let himself be distracted by Gabriel's teasing and his honesty.

After calling a third time with no answer, Miles gave up and called Charlee instead. He was still trembling, nearly dropping his phone more than once. His lungs felt weak, crushed, unable to hold more than a fraction of a breath.

Charlee answered immediately. "Aren't you in school?"

"Yeah." His voice was raw, like he'd been screaming, like he hadn't drunk anything in days. "Can you come pick me up? I'll be out front."

She didn't hesitate. "I'll be there in ten."

Tucking his phone back into his pocket, he turned back to the sink, splashing his bloody nose with lukewarm water until it stopped running pink. He grabbed a fistful of coarse paper towels and dried off, glancing up at the mirror.

His choking gasp echoed throughout the bathroom.

Gabriel stared back at him from the mirror once again.

***

Charlee arrived with a dramatic squeal of tires and the flash of a devilish smile through the car window. Miles should have realized that if he was trying to skip school stealthily, calling her was his first mistake.

He hurried down the front steps and opened the passenger-side door, slipping in. The second he closed the door and clicked his seatbelt, Charlee was off.

"What's going on?" she asked, all business. "Are you okay?"

"I had another vision from Jocelyn," he told her. It was hard to get the words out. All he could see was Gabriel's pale face staring at him from the mirror, blood slowly creeping down it, lips parting for silent words Miles knew by now— find me . "She said the future hasn't changed—Gabriel's still going to die."

Charlee might not like Gabriel, but she still had the decency to look worried. "You said you got rid of Florence."

"We did. I don't know what it means, but she's either coming back or… we were wrong."

"You think the killer is someone else?"

He chewed his lip, ignoring the sting of pain. "I don't know what to think. But Gabriel—something's wrong. He was acting weird this morning and he left school, and I think—" He didn't know what he thought. "Something's wrong," he repeated. "I need to go to Gabriel's. I have to make sure he's okay."

Charlee didn't say anything, the engine growling as she pressed down on the gas.

Outside the window, the dying trees flashed by in unfocused smears of orange and brown. Miles's head filled with white noise, the occasional crackle of static letting a stray fear through.

Gabriel . His bloody, haunted face in the mirror. The intensity in his eyes this morning.

Florence . Her taunting words from the cemetery. The grimoire tucked away in a drawer.

Jocelyn . Her warning trembling in the air. The weight of her gaze, an accusation.

When they pulled up to the Hawthorne estate, the gate was closed. Charlee parked in the same spot as the night before, giving him a reassuring nod as he climbed from her car. "I'll wait for you."

He buttoned his jacket to his throat, hunching his shoulders against the gust of wind that rattled the door set in the fence. It was unlocked, just as Gabriel told him days ago, the knob cold as ice. The trees swayed in the wind overhead, the sound like rushing water as the few remaining withered leaves held on against the building storm. In the grass, Miles could see the flattened path he'd taken before.

It seemed wrong to be walking it alone now.

As he neared the house, he noticed a sleek black car he hadn't seen before parked near the stairs—Felicity must be home. He'd known it was a possibility while driving over and promptly decided he didn't care. He was riding a jittery high of fear and anxiety that made him feel invincible, and he was going to take advantage of it.

Miles wasn't leaving here until he saw that Gabriel was okay.

He knocked firmly on the door, tense seconds ticking by. Surely Felicity wouldn't open the door. She had servants for that, right?

When it finally opened, a rush of relief washed over him.

"Miles?" Edmund couldn't have been more surprised. He quickly stepped out, leaving the door cracked behind him. "What the hell are you doing here? Where's Gabriel?"

The foreboding feeling came back in full force. "What are you talking about?"

Slowly, Edmund bleached of color. "He's not with you."

"Why would he be with me?"

"He came home a few hours ago and was acting weird, but he said he might be out with you all day and not to wait up. The next time I went to check on him, he was gone."

"Last I saw him was this morning before class. He said he had an appointment to get to."

He'd lied to them both.

"Why would he leave without telling us?"

"I have no idea. He's never—before you came along, he never even left the estate." Edmund scanned him suspiciously. "Did you two have a fight?"

"No, everything's fine." More than fine, he'd thought. "I mean, he seemed a little off this morning when I saw him, but nothing major. I didn't think much about it until—"

"Until what?"

He couldn't tell Edmund that part. "Until I got a bad feeling. And he wasn't answering his phone."

"His phone's still here. I saw it in his room, it's charging on his desk. I assumed he must've just forgotten it, but…"

But now Gabriel was missing. And Miles had seen enough true crime shows to know people left their phones behind when they didn't want to be found. Or because someone forced them to.

"Fuck." Edmund ran a gloved hand down his face. "Okay, something happened. He doesn't run off for no reason, that's not his style. I need to tell my mother he's gone, and that you two have been hanging out. I'm sorry, but it might help us find him."

This was all happening too fast. Miles was still processing the fact that Gabriel could've been taken. Kidnapped. Because he wouldn't lie to Miles and leave without warning, not after they'd agreed they were in this together.

Jocelyn's warning echoed in his ears. Gabriel had no idea he was still destined to die and now he was gone.

"Wait." Miles stopped Edmund before he could go back into the house. "Don't tell Felicity yet. At least, not until we know for sure Gabriel's missing. He could be back any minute." He didn't think either of them believed that, but the second Felicity knew, this was all over. He'd promised Gabriel he'd see this through with him. "Let me see his room, if there's a hint of where he's at. If not, I'll take something of his to my cousin. She's a psychometrist, she could find a clue."

Edmund wasn't convinced, Miles could see it in his face.

"Please," he added. "Please let me try. If I don't find anything, you can go to Felicity. But, if we can do this without sending her chasing him down, we owe him that."

There was a flicker of agreement in Edmund's eyes. "Fine. I'll take you to his room, but we'll have to be quick—my mother's home, so if anyone sees you, you're on your own."

"Thank you."

Inside the house, it was deathly quiet. Edmund paused, head cocked to listen, before he gestured for Miles to follow him up the stairs. The sound of their hurried steps was thunder. Miles was sure someone was going to walk into the foyer and see them.

No one did, and then they were on the second floor, striding down a familiar hallway. Edmund stepped in front of Gabriel's door, opening it and peeking in.

"It's empty," he said. "I'll stay out here in case anyone comes by. Hurry."

Gabriel's room smelled the same as before, crisp and clean, but the heavy curtains were drawn tight over the windows and the bed was a mess of rumpled sheets, the gray comforter hanging onto the floor. The wardrobe door hung open, a few empty hangers poking out. A feeling of wrongness slithered its way down Miles's spine.

The computer was off, but Gabriel's phone was on his desk, right where Edmund said. When Miles tapped the screen, he could see his missed calls.

Gabriel's charcoal peacoat was nowhere to be seen, but his scarf was hanging over the back of his leather desk chair. Miles touched the fabric, rubbing the soft weave of it against his fingers before cramming it in his pocket for Charlee.

He didn't know what he'd expected to find here—a note telling Miles where he was, a circled place on a map tucked away, an address pulled up on his computer.

But Gabriel was just gone.

The door creaked open, and Miles yelped.

"It's me." Bram slipped inside, holding the door open a little longer so his cat, Balthazar, could come in, too. "Edmund is going to keep Mother busy so you can leave."

"You scared me," Miles gasped. "How did you know I was here?"

"I saw you come in. You're not very good at sneaking."

He was clearly taking after Gabriel with the blunt criticism. "Gabriel's missing, so I'm trying to help Edmund figure out where he's at. Did he say anything to you about leaving?"

Bram's mouth fell open. "No. Is he in trouble?"

Miles made himself smile. "I'm not going to worry yet. Can you think of anywhere he might've gone? A place he mentioned?"

"We don't leave the estate very often."

"That's okay, thanks anyways."

"He had a nightmare last night," Bram said tentatively. Balthazar weaved between his legs as he spoke, rubbing against his ankles. "Maybe he got scared and went somewhere to hide."

A premonition? "Did he say what it was about?"

Bram shook his head. "When I came in to check on him, he said he was fine and to go back to sleep. He was crying so it was probably bad. But he doesn't like to talk about the things he sees."

The image of Gabriel waking up, frightened and crying alone in his twisted sheets—

Miles cleared his tight throat. "Thanks for telling me."

He didn't bother taking another look around Gabriel's room—there was nothing here. Lingering wouldn't change that.

"Can you help get me back outside without being seen?" he asked Bram.

"Yes." He opened the bedroom door, his cat slipping out on silent paws. "Balthazar will go first and let us know if it's safe."

Miles eyed him, trying to decide if he was serious or not. A second later, a soft meow sounded.

"Clear. But we should be fast, just in case."

That wouldn't be a problem—lingering in this house was never a temptation.

Balthazar was waiting at the end of the hall, his golden stare scrutinizing them as he let out another chirping meow. With a flick of his tail, he raced down the stairs, Bram and Miles close behind him. He led them straight across the empty foyer and to the front door like he knew where they were going.

"That's a very smart cat," Miles told Bram as the boy opened the door to make sure no one was outside. It was raining, wetting the stone porch and steps into a slick, dark gray.

"He's aware."

Sure enough, Balthazar was staring at Miles in a way that could only be described as smug.

"Thank you." Miles stepped out the front door, then hesitated. "I'll find him, don't worry."

"I'm not worried," Bram said seriously. "I'm scared."

If it was Jenna or Amy, he'd pull them in for a hug, but he didn't think Bram would take that well. He patted him on the shoulder instead, in what he hoped was a comforting way.

He jogged back to Charlee's car, slipping in the wet grass more than once and remembering at the last second to close the gate door behind him. Water ran down the back of his collar to soak his shirt and make his teeth chatter.

"What happened?" Charlee asked the second Miles climbed in. Rain drummed against the windshield. "Is Gabriel okay?"

"He's gone."

" Gone?"

"Yeah. Missing, left, ran away, I don't know." He stared up into the rearview mirror, Gabriel's gray eyes gazing back at him. Blood trickled down his pale skin, the sharp smell filling the air of the car, but Miles didn't look away. "But we've got to find him."