9. Alex

9 ALEX

I’ve always wondered if the end of the world would come in the form of light. I’ve had dreams about it, of being in nothing but light. They felt so real that when I woke up, I was confused. The dream has occurred enough times that I started to believe I was seeing the future.

But now Gemma is.

None of this makes sense, including why Gemma won’t wake up.

“What’s wrong with her?” Aislin asks as she stares down at Gemma passed out on the sofa. My sister’s eyes are wide, her voice high-pitched, and she has leftover icicles in her dark hair, like glass fragments.

“I don’t know.” I squat down beside the sofa and look Gemma over.

She looks like a sleeping faerie with her pale skin, flowing brown hair, and full lips. She’s gorgeous. I’ve thought that since we were around thirteen years old. She’s also smart as hell, funny, and feisty. If I had my way, I’d have started dating her a long time ago. But she despises me for reasons I just learned about. But those reasons aren’t real because I’ve never said anything bad about Gemma. I’ve teased her, but only because I like seeing her smile and roll her eyes at me. It’s the only time she’ll pay attention to me, so I may have gone a bit overboard over the last handful of years.

It doesn’t help that I dream about her in a way that sends déjà vu through me. Sometimes I wonder if, in another life and world, we were soul mates. But, do other lives and worlds exist? I didn’t think so, but then Gemma and I went into that vision …

“She said she saw another vision?” I glance up at my sister.

Laylen is standing a handful of feet behind her and has the same concerned expression on his face as the rest of us. Unlike with me, Gemma talks to Laylen, so the two of them are good friends. I wish she’d be that way with me.

Aislin nods, her gaze landing on me as she swallows. “It was while we were at the shop buying supplies for the spell. She touched a crystal ball and went into it. She said she saw a vision of her living a life with other people who weren’t her parents, and they were talking about how her soul was broken.”

“How old was she in it?” I wonder, because it can’t be from the past, but it makes no sense that it’d be her future.

“She didn’t say, but I’m guessing she was young.” Aislin folds her arms around herself. Her clothes are wet from the chill of death starting to melt. “Alex, something weird is going on. First, these visions, then Gemma sees some guy I can’t see, then a death walker shows up here.” She gestures at the doorway to the kitchen.

I stand up and face her. “Wait … You couldn’t see the guy?”

“Yeah, I don’t know if he was a ghost or what,” Aislin explains tensely. “But Gemma said he was about our age, with blond hair, and he was super creepy. Oh, and she said he acted like he knew her.”

“But she didn’t know him ?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “She said he seemed familiar, but she didn’t know why.”

I direct my attention back to Gemma. Her chest is rising and crashing with each breath she takes. She seems fine except for the cut on her head and the fact that she’s passed out. This is way more than merely a concussion.

“Can you send me into her mind?” I ask. “I know the spell for that is complicated, but I also know it’s possible.”

“Yeah, but you know how sucky I am at powerful spells,” she stresses while shifting her weight.

“I know you struggle sometimes, but I have a feeling she’s trapped in her own mind.” I gently touch the side of Gemma’s head. Her skin is alarmingly cold, putting urgency on the situation. “If we want to help her, we need to figure out what’s going on.”

“You can do this.” Laylen moves up behind Aislin and places a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll be here for you to help and offer support.”

Aislin releases an exhale. “It is a little strange because the ingredients that are required for a mind-entering spell are pretty similar to the spell we were originally going to do.”

Silence falls over us.

A nagging feeling begins to rise inside me. I keep thinking about Gemma’s father and how he acted as if something awful was heading our way. With him being able to see the future, it was unnerving to hear him say it.

“Why do I have a feeling that this is not a coincidence?” I ask, glancing between the two of them.

“Because those rarely exist,” Laylen answers right as thunder booms so loudly the entire house quakes.

“All right, let’s do this then,” Aislin says, looking completely terrified.

While she prepares to perform the spell, I backtrack to the kitchen to look around. I need to report the death walker to the keepers’ committee, but that requires calling my father, who is the leader of it.

I loathe my dad. He’s not the nicest man and, deep down, I know if he learns that an extinct creature went after Gemma, he’ll start questioning why, which will lead to him being suspicious of her. I’ve seen him do it to keepers countless times, and he ended up ruining their lives. He’s not a good man and hasn’t ever been, even before my mother passed away.

I hate that I hate him. I struggle with it every day. Just like I struggle with who he’s tried to make me be and who I want to be.

Right now, I’m making this decision based on what I feel is right. And that’s to keep quiet about the incident.

Glass crunches beneath my feet as I make my way around the kitchen. Rain is pouring in through the open window—we need to get it boarded up. I turn around to see if I can find a board to hang up over it when my boot lands on a solid object. I step back and bend over to pick it up. It’s a silver, heart-shaped locket with a purple stone in the center.

I skim my finger along the front of it?—

Images slam through my mind of me holding the necklace, of me putting it on Gemma, of me kissing her and telling her that I love her. Just like I did in the vision Gemma and I went into where I proposed to her.

As my mind returns to reality, I stare down at the necklace. It feels important, so I place it into my pocket, leave the kitchen, and go into the basement to find a board.

Ten minutes later, the window is covered up and Aislin is calling out for me to get my butt into the living room so we can begin the spell.

When I enter the room, Aislin is sitting on the coffee table in front of the sofa where Gemma is lying. Laylen is lighting the last of the candles that have been placed around the room, and some sort of leafy herb has been sprinkled all over the carpet. Beside Aislin is her spell book, and on her lap is a wooden box.

“What’s in the box?” I inquire as I approach the coffee table.

She glances at me while clutching the box tighter in her arms. “Stardust.”

I’m taken aback. “Stardust? That stuff is dangerous.” And reminds me way too much of the star dreams I’ve been having.

Another coincidence? I don’t know what to think anymore.

“We’re using it to channel energy,” Aislin explains as she sets the box aside on the table. “No one has to touch it.”

“That’s good, since there’s a chance it could kill us.” Shaking my head, I sit down on the edge of the sofa. “I don’t like this.”

“Well, you’re the one who insisted I do the spell,” she snaps as she opens the lid of the box. Inside is sparkling dust that glimmers iridescently against the candlelight.

In a daze, I reach for it, as if it’s begging me to touch it?—

“Alex!” Aislin shouts. “What’re you doing?”

I pull my hand away. “Nothing. Look, let’s get this done. I’m sorry I’m being a jerk. I know I asked you to do the spell.”

She eyes me over dubiously before fixing her attention on the spell book.

“You okay?” Laylen asks as he pockets the lighter.

I nod dismissively, though I’m not sure I am.

Laylen knows me well enough that his skepticism about the truthfulness of my response is shadowed across his face, along with the flickering glow of the candles.

It’s grown dark outside, and shadows possess the room in an eerie way. It almost feels like we’re about to perform a séance, which reminds me of the alleged ghost Gemma saw. Ghosts are real and everything, yet they’re rare enough that I question if that’s what she saw. The guy could’ve been a faerie with a glamour on him.

I crack my knuckles against the side of my leg to let my stress out. It doesn’t work, and I keep fidgeting as Aislin prepares for the spell.

“Put your hand on her forehead and close your eyes,” she finally tells me then extends her hand toward me. “Then take my hand.”

“Do you need me to do anything else?” Laylen asks as he moves closer to us.

Wavering, Aislin glances over her shoulder at him. “Keep an eye on things, and make sure no other extinct monsters wander in here.”

He nods then positions himself near the window, peering out into the darkness that occasionally lights up with a blue blaze of lightning.

I place my hand on Gemma’s forehead, again noticing how alarmingly cold her skin is. Then I put my hand in Aislin’s.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” she tells me with a nervous exhale.

“I’m good.” I hope.

Fear usually isn’t something I feel. I had to break that out of me a long time ago because my father used to scare me as a tactic to get what he wanted. Learning not to be afraid of him—or at least numbing myself to it—helped me gain control of my life.

As I wait, I hold my breath while Aislin begins to chant.

“ Stellis hic mentes et animas connectat, se invicem in tenebris et luce videant .” She repeats it over and over again until her voice is a hushed whisper. And then it becomes nonexistent.

That’s when I open my eyes.

I’m no longer in Gemma’s living room but standing in the backyard of a house I don’t recognize. In front of me is a small section of grass that stretches to a back porch where a patio table and chairs are. And sitting at the table is Gemma and a guy around her age with black hair that reaches his chin. He’s dressed head-to-toe in black and has his arms resting on the table. Gemma is wearing jeans and a black shirt, her hair pulled into a ponytail, and worry haunts those gorgeous violet eyes of hers. She has something in her hand—a pocket watch.

“This can reset time?” She lifts her gaze to the guy sitting in the chair.

He nods, yanking his fingers through his hair. “It does. But resetting time comes with a lot of risks.”

Beyond confused, I start toward them when I feel fingers wrap around my arm, and then I’m being jerked back behind a nearby bush.

“What the?—”

A hand comes down over my mouth.

Gemma is standing in front of me, her hand over my mouth and a finger pressed to her lips. She shakes her head, indicating for me to be quiet. I realize then that this is the Gemma I know. I don’t know how I’m able to tell the difference other than it’s a feeling inside my stomach.

Her presence causes that wonderful buzzing to flood my veins, a sensation that occurs every time I’m close to her. I love the feeling but haven’t figured out why it happens.

She slowly lowers her hand from my mouth and gives me a pressing glance, an urgent plea for me to stay as quiet as possible.

“Are you okay?” I whisper in a hushed tone.

She hesitates then whispers, “I’m not sure.”

Her head is cut like it is in real life, and I absentmindedly reach up and brush my finger alongside it. “You’re hurt in here, too.”

A crease forms between her brows as she lifts her hand toward the wound.

I capture her hand in mine, stopping her. “It’ll hurt if you touch it.”

Her full lips thin as she presses them together.

I don’t release her hand, holding it in mine like I’ve wanted to for years. Her skin is flooding with warmth in here. Or maybe it’s the buzzing.

I want to kiss her.

I want to taste her lips.

I want to smell the scent of her hair.

Yeah, I’m a real goner, I know.

“How bad is it?” she whispers, surprisingly not trying to wiggle her hand away from mine.

“It won’t need stitches,” I tell her as quietly as I can, “but it might leave a small scar.”

She briefly mulls this over before turning toward the bush. “So, I don’t know if I’m in a vision or what. All I know is that some version of me is sitting over there with that guy named Evan, apparently, and we’re talking about resetting time.”

“What?” I hiss way too loudly.

She slaps a hand over my mouth to quiet me. “Shh …”

I resist the urge to lick the palm of her hand—she’d probably slap me if I did. Might be worth it, though, just to taste her.

She removes her hand and gives me a dirty look, but she’s still holding my hand.

“If they are talking about resetting time,” I utter softly, “and this is some sort of vision of the future, then that means something awful had to have happened.”

“I know.” She sinks into silence with her face set in contemplation. “What if it’s a vision from the past?”

I angle my head to the side. “Those are rare. And that’d mean …” I trail off at the gravity of what that would mean.

“It’d mean that the reality you and I are in right now might not even be real,” she finishes for me. “And I know it sounds crazy, but?—”

“It’d explain a few things,” I follow her train of thought. “One being why we’re even here.”

“You think this is a vision?”

“It seems like one to me.”

“Me, too,” she mumbles with a frown. “What’re we supposed to do with this knowledge? I mean, are we supposed to fix it? How? Why? Why is any of this happening?—”

“Do you hear that?” the Evan guy suddenly says.

When I peek through the leafy branches of the bush, I see him stand up and scan the backyard. Vision Gemma is also on edge, rising to her feet and shielding her eyes from the sunlight as she peers around.

“We need to go someplace else for now,” I whisper. “Maybe if we explore this world a bit, we can find some clues.”

“Good idea.” She carefully turns and creeps out from behind the bush before hoisting herself over the short, wooden fence that divides this backyard from the next.

I follow, landing in the grass with a soft thud. Then we hunker down and move quickly up the fence and toward the gate. I can hear Vision Gemma and the Evan guy yammering about hearing voices, but we make it out of there before they notice us. Probably a good thing, too. Being spotted in a vision is a tricky sort of situation, especially when you’re spotted by yourself.

Once we reach the front yard, we jog down the sidewalk toward the corner of the quaint neighborhood. The air is quiet, the sky is sunny, but almost too still, and another thing is off.

“There’s no one around,” I note as we stop at the curb.

Gemma casts a quick glance around, the sunlight reflecting in her eyes, and strands of her hair blow around her face. “Yeah, what’s up with that?”

“I don’t know.” I rotate in a circle, hoping to see someone—anyone.

But nope. Not a single person in sight.

“Come on,” I mutter, threading my fingers through hers. “I think we need to get out of the open until we figure out what’s happening.”

“Shouldn’t we be trying to get out of here?” she wonders, holding my hand as I steer her farther down the sidewalk.

“I’m not sure how we get out of here,” I explain as I rush past the trees and houses lining the street.

She blinks at me. “Why did you come in here then?”

“Because I needed to make sure you were okay.” I feel too exposed. I can feel her gaze on me, dissecting me.

“You don’t know how I got in here?”

I shrug, glancing from left to right. “No. I honestly thought you were unconscious, but now that I’m in here, I think you somehow put yourself into a vision, and without a crystal ball.”

She crinkles her nose. “I don’t like the idea of me being able to see the future and the past. And I don’t even have the foreseer mark.”

“Well, maybe you do in this life, and your powers still exist inside you.”

“That means I’m the one who must get us out of here. It’s odd, though, that it happened right after I got hit with the chill of death.”

“It might not be as odd as you think.” I guide us across the street, taking long strides. “You may have gotten so frozen that your grasp on these dormant powers slipped loose.”

“Maybe.” She stares off momentarily. “I’ve already gone into two visions, though. This one was just without a crystal ball.”

I grind to a halt in front of a house that’s boarded up and has colorful graffiti all over the bricks. “I feel like all of these houses are empty.”

“What if they’re not?” she points out.

“Only one way to find out.” I tug her with me as I embark up the path lined with wilting flowers.

When we reach the front porch, I investigate the windows. The place is empty and bare in an unnerving way. Still, being out in the open isn’t ideal, so I push open the front door.

The air smells dusty as we enter the foyer. When I glance down at the hardwood floors, I note that a layer of dust is, in fact, covering the wood with no footprints, which means … “No one’s been in here for a while,” I remark as I lead us further into the house.

She nods in agreement as she looks around at the high ceilings, bare walls, and the empty room beside us. “Someone cleared out all their belongings, too. But why?”

“I’m not sure.” The floorboards creak under our weight as we move deeper into the house.

I listen for any noises or signs that someone is close by. “It’s like the apocalypse happened.”

“Maybe that’s why Vision Me and that guy were discussing resetting time?” she suggests, remaining close to me. “Maybe we were trying to fix this world.”

“I think you might be right.” I stop in the kitchen, noting the bareness of the room. “I don’t feel like this is a pack-up-your-stuff-and-flee-to-the-mountains-doomsday sort of scenario. Most people wouldn’t take all of their furniture and belongings.” I open a cupboard—it’s empty. “Including plates and cups.”

She sketches a finger along the countertop, leaving a path in the layer of dust. “You think everything went poof ?”

“Perhaps.” I rub my jawline. “With how much dust is covering everything, it’s been a while since it happened.”

She wipes the dust off her finger and onto the side of her jacket. “It might be a good thing they’re resetting time then.”

I shake my head. “You know what your dad would say about messing with the past and future.”

She blows out an exhale. “I know, but this is really bad.” She pauses, and then her eyes widen. “If they reset time, does that mean the world we’re living in is the reset world?”

Silence trickles by.

“Shit.” I yank my fingers through my hair. “You know, if it is, then that would explain a lot about the strange events that have been happening, including how a death walker ended up at your house. The past and future are cracking apart and meshing.”

“That can happen?”

“I’m not sure, but it makes sense. I also know someone who could give us an answer.”

“My father,” she catches on quickly, the corners of her pretty lips tugging downward. “I think he might already be aware something is happening. I think that’s why he was acting so weird.”

“If we tell him about this, do you think he’d talk to us?”

“I don’t know. He’s always been pretty hush-hush when it comes to his foreseer powers.” She scratches her brow, leaving a mark of dust on her forehead.

I extend my hand toward her face.

She slants away. “What’re you doing?”

I resist a sigh. “You have dirt on your forehead.” I reach for her again, and this time, she allows me to wipe the dirt away.

A little bit of progress , I think.

Well, until she says … “Just because there’s a chance that, in some form of our lives, you proposed to me, doesn’t mean I’d ever be that close to you in this life.” She sidesteps and inches away from me.

Any hope of her getting over hating me soon deflates, but I do my best to shake it off.

“How do we even get out of here?” she questions as she wanders back into the living room, leaving shoeprints in the dust covering the hardwood floors. “Because the other times I entered a vision, I didn’t get out on my own. It just happened.”

I try to recall my knowledge on foreseer ability. While the academy doesn’t teach much about it, my father is extremely strict when it comes to me learning about magical abilities and other aspects of the paranormal world.

“I think you have the control to do it,” I say as I trail after her. “It’s a matter of visualizing your way out.”

She faces me with her arms crossed. “What if it doesn’t work that way because I didn’t get here with a crystal ball?”

I shrug. “I guess we’ll worry about that when the time comes.”

She eyes me over warily. “How can you be so calm about this?”

“I’m always calm,” I say offhandedly as I make my way to the window that frames the top of the front door. I peer outside to see if anyone is around, but the street and sidewalks remain vacant. “You’ve known me long enough that you should know that.”

“I do.” She moves closer to me. “And I’ve always wondered why.”

“Why do I feel like you’re trying to get into my head?” I glance at her from the corner of my eye.

She nonchalantly lifts a shoulder. “Maybe I am. I mean, you’re technically in mine”—she gestures at the stairway—“so it seems only fair that I get to see into yours.”

I face her and allow my gaze to deliberately scroll up and down her body. “You really want to know what’s going on inside my head?” When I meet her gaze again, I have to bite back a smile.

Her cheeks are tinted with a blush.

“No—yes. I don’t know.” She huffs in frustration. “Whatever. Can we move on from this, please?”

“Sure.” I’ll come back to it eventually because I’m curious to know what’s the cause behind that blush.

I roll up the sleeves of my shirt. “Why don’t we …?” I trail off at the sound of thumping.

Gemma must hear it, too, because she backtracks toward another window. “What is that?”

I look out the window again. “I don’t know … Nothing’s out there.”

“It sounds like something is banging on a set of drums.” She angles her head to the side. “Someone has to be …” Her eyes widen, and then she sputters, “Oh my God.”

I snap my gaze back to the window, and what I see sends a chill of undiluted dread through my body.

Hundreds of death walkers are marching down the street, in harmony with each other, as if they’re some sort of undead marching band playing the theme song to the gates of hell.

The ground quivers in fear underneath each of their rhythmic stomps. It should. These monsters are one of the most feared creatures to ever exist.

Their presence is stirring up a fog that can kill, and the temperature is already veering toward a hypothermic range.

“Alex,” Gemma says, her voice laced with panic.

I rush over to her, snag her hand, and yank her with me as I race up the stairs. She keeps up with me, grasping my hand.

“What’re we doing?” Her teeth clank together as she begins to chatter uncontrollably.

“Hiding and trying to find someplace warm.” I barrel into the first room, which is a bedroom with nothing in it.

I spot a closet and rush over to it, towing Gemma with me. Once inside, I close the door and let go of her hand, but only to wrap my arms around her.

She remains stiff in my arms. “You think hugging will save us?”

“No, but I think that buzzing sensation we both feel whenever we’re near each other will.” I hold my breath, waiting for her to confirm it. It’s the first time I’ve dared to say it aloud. I’ve often wondered if she can feel it, too, and have speculated at times that it appears she can, but I’ve never had confirmation.

She holds her breath, keeping her hands at her sides. “What’re you talking about?”

I tip my head down to look at her, my body already warming from the buzzing that’s increasing in frequency due to her closeness. “You really can’t feel it?”

She rubs her lips together then slips her arms around my waist and presses her body against mine. She’s tall enough that the top of her head reaches my cheek, putting the scent of her hair right below my nostrils. She smells like strawberries and vanilla, and she feels so warm. It’d be the perfect moment if we weren’t hiding in a closet from death walkers while we’re stuck in some sort of nightmarish alternate world.

“How long have you felt it?” she asks, breaking the silence, except for the crackling ice webbing over the door. I can’t see it, but I can hear it.

“The buzzing?” I ask, and she bobs her head up and down. “Since the first time I met you.”

“Me, too,” she confesses. “I honestly thought it was a one-way thing. Or, well, most of the time I did. There were times I thought maybe you felt it, too.”

“I was the same way.” My eyes are shut, and I’m smelling her hair like a weirdo. “I thought about asking you, but you already acted like I was a creep, so I figured if you didn’t feel it, it’d make you look at me with even more disgust.”

“I don’t look at you with disgust,” she insists. “I just … I don’t know. I thought you said that thing about me, and I let it eat away at me. With everything going, I’m starting to wonder if it was just another you wandering around that said it.”

“You think a version of me came into our world?”

“Maybe. Either that or you were possessed.” She pauses. “Or you’re lying about not saying it.” She sounds doubtful about the latter.

“I didn’t,” I assure her. When she remains quiet, I decide to throw all caution out into the ice storm brewing just outside the door. If I’m about to freeze to death, I can at least get the truth off my chest. “Why would I say that about you when I think you’re hot?”

Her body goes as rigid as a frozen demon. “Stop.”

“Stop what? Saying the truth?”

“You don’t think I’m hot.”

“Oh, I do. And so do a ton of other guys. Henry included. Though, the poor guy doesn’t realize you don’t feel the same way. I feel kind of bad for him.”

“I … You …” She growls in frustration. “You know what? I think I do like him. A ton. He’s super good-looking, and nice, and?—”

I kiss her. It’s stupid—I know this—but her lips were a sliver of an inch away from mine, and she’s radiating so much warmth that it’s seeping into my bones. When she goes as stiff as an ice sculpture, I immediately regret it and pull back.

Her breath falters from her lips. “Why did you do that?”

“I don’t know.” It’s the best answer I can give.

“Well, thanks for taking my first kiss on the basis of you don’t know .” She angles her body away from mine, like she might leave.

Wait—that was her first kiss?

I tighten my grip on her. “You can’t go out there.”

“Wanna bet?” A dare glints dangerously in her voice.

“Gemma,” I start.

“Alex,” she mocks.

“Goddammit, you’re so frustrating,” I growl out. “I kissed you because I’ve wanted to kiss you for years.” And then I kiss her again.

Yep, I’m an idiot …

Or not …

After a fleeting star flicker of a pause, she starts to kiss me back. At first, it’s a tentative kiss, a whisper of a kiss. But when I part her lips with my tongue, she kisses me back with a pounding sort of intensity.

I mold my palm to her cheek and tip her head back to deepen the kiss. I try to be as gentle as possible since this is her first kiss. I wouldn’t have guessed it with how perfect her movements are, the way she matches the movements of my tongue, the way she lies down as I hover over her, kissing her in the light of the room ….

Wait …

What the heck?

Someone clears their throat.

My eyes open at the same time Gemma’s does. Our lips are fused together, but we’re not in the closet. She’s lying on the sofa, and I’m leaning over her with my fingers splayed across her cheek. And the real awesomeness about it all—and yeah, I’m being sarcastic—is that we’re in the living room of her house where Aislin and Laylen are watching this make-out session unfold.

Apparently, during the kiss, we came out of the vision, but I guess we were also acting out what we were doing in real life. I wouldn’t care except I know Gemma, something she proves when she pushes me away.

“What’re you doing?” she stammers as I fall back, landing on the floor.

She sits up, her violet eyes wild as she takes in Aislin, who is still sitting on the coffee table, and Laylen, standing a few feet away, then the candles flickering.

“We were trying to bring you out of unconsciousness,” Aislin explains, the glow of the candles dancing in her wide eyes. “I thought it wasn’t working, but then …” Her gaze bounces between Gemma and me.

I push to my feet. “Well, it worked. Obviously. Took me kissing her to get it to, though.”

“Screw you!” Gemma snaps as she jumps to her feet. Then she storms off down the hallway. A moment later, a door slams shut.

“Dude,” Laylen says to me with his eyebrows arched. “You really want to be a dick about it, considering everything?”

Aislin studies me with curiosity sparkling in her eyes. “Considering what?”

“Nothing.” I glare daggers at Laylen, warning him not to talk about my thing for Gemma. I already freaked her out enough for the day.

He holds his hands up in front of him, like my bad . But he’s grinning.

Some best friend he is.

“I’ll go talk to her,” I tell no one in particular.

Aislin leaps to her feet. “No, I’ll go.” She points at me. “You and your mouth need to stay here.” She hurries away, rushing down the hallway.

An uneven exhale eases from my lips. “Great, she’s going to hound me for this.”

“You kissed her best friend.” Laylen drops into a chair. “Maybe she should.”

“Traitor,” I mutter as I lower myself onto the sofa. Then I prop my elbows on my knees and lower my head into my hands. “I know I messed up. There was just so much chaos going on in that vision, and we were pressed together, trying to stay warm from the death walkers’ chill, and you know how I feel about her.”

“I do, but does she?” he questions. “You were such an ass about it. You made it seem like you kissed her to get you guys out of the vision … Wait—you were in a vision?”

I nod with my head still in my hands, my gaze glued to the floor. “We were. And I didn’t kiss her to get us out of it. To be honest, even with the doomsday shitstorm going on around us, all I was thinking about was how badly I wanted to kiss her.” Sighing heavily, I lift my head and slump back. “We have a huge problem. Because in that vision, a version of Gemma was there, talking to some guy about resetting time.”

He straightens at that. “What was happening that they needed to reset time?”

“The world was empty, like everything except for houses and the landscape was erased. Even the houses were empty. However, there was Gemma and this guy. And then there were death walkers—tons of them. They were marching down the road, not doing anything except for making everything frozen.” I lean forward and fiddle with the ring on my finger. “Here’s the thing … We just had a death walker show up here when they’re supposed to be extinct. Gemma and I have gone into a few visions for no reason, and she’s gone into one alone. Then she thinks she saw some ghost person, and she also thinks that she saw me when we were younger saying her eyes were freaky, but you know I’d never say that.”

He mulls this over with his forehead creased. “So, what’re you thinking? That the resetting time from the vision is bleeding into this world?”

“If they reset time, then maybe.” I yank my fingers roughly through my hair. “We need to find a way to get answers, and I think Gemma’s dad can help us, but he’s being kind of cagey.”

“Julian? That doesn’t sound like him.”

“I know. Maybe something is off with him, as well.”

“Where does that leave us then? We have to do something about it.”

“I know.” I scrub a hand across my mouth. “When Gemma and I got sucked into that vision in class today, the professor was acting suspicious, like he may have known more about what was going on than he was letting on.”

“So, let’s pay him a visit then.” Laylen rises to his feet.

I stand up, too. “And what if he doesn’t offer up the information easily?”

Laylen zips up his hoodie. “Then I guess we’ll have to do things the hard way.”

I’d say I hope it doesn’t come to that, but in the darkest parts of my soul, the ones I’m afraid to admit exist, a desire to do things the hard way burns almost hotter than the buzzing between Gemma and me.

I worry what that means, that maybe evil lives inside me.

That maybe I’m just like my father.