“You’re here.” My voice is hoarse and full of tears. “Are you dead too? Did the world survive?”
“It survived. The pit closed after you fell in. There’s a huge hole now. They are calling it a sinkhole.”
“But Issie, Betty … everyone else?”
“They survived.”
“Cassidy?”
“She is in a hospital in Boston, but alive.”
Beyond Astley is a window with an ornate gilded frame, beyond it is a world covered in ice and frost. It hangs from the trees, covers the ground. I’m in Hel.
“Am I dead?”
He moves forward, scooching up on the bed, completely obscuring my view of the world. “That’s debatable. You are technically half-dead, but the rules are being broken for you because you risked so much to save us. The moment you want to, Hel is allowing you to go back. She has a soft spot for you.”
That’s nice to know. My lips are dry but they manage to smile. Then I realize all the possibilities.
“Wait. Are you dead?” I ask.
Astley’s eyes flicker and widen and he leans forward, kissing my forehead; soft lips, cool against my skin. Then he settles back in a chair, never letting go of my hand, his gaze fixing me. One tiny tear leaks its way onto his cheek, slowly traveling down toward his lips.
“I am not dead. And this time, Zara White,” he says, “this time it is my turn to rescue you.”
Four Months Later
FROM AGENT WILLIS’S PERSONAL LOG
For about two months now, the town of Bedford, Maine, has been quiet. All winter it was besieged by random kidnappings of teens and eventually adults, scores of missing, and then a sinkhole that destroyed the local theater and coffee house. The snow has stopped. Incident reports are run-of-the-mill. There are no missing youths, no reports of strange whispers in the woods. Still, the place has something off about it, and my case, I fear, will never be officially closed. So many civilians and so many officers lost their lives in the strangeness that went down here. That sticks in my gut.
Spring in Maine comes with a rush of mud. Streams overflow from melting snow, and temperatures plunge back into the land of cold every night, but I do not care. Spring is spring, and my friends and I are alive, even Cassidy, although she was in the hospital for a terribly long time. The show choir is headed for Disney and the national competition. Disney is in Florida, where it’s warm, even at night.
We sit on the lawn in front of the school. Seniors shuffle off to get their cars out of the senior lot. The late bus straggles up to the turnaround. Brakes squeal as it comes to a stop, the door opens, red lights flash near its roof.
Nobody is in danger.
Nothing is going to snatch anyone away.
Issie flops onto the grass, then adjusts herself so her head is resting on Devyn’s thighs. His hand plays in her hair.
“Do not get me wrong,” she says, crossing her feet at the ankles. “I like that nobody is in mortal danger anymore but it’s … it’s kind of … Well …”
“Boring?” Nick offers. He’s plucking out blades of grass while waiting for another Amnesty letter I want him to sign.
“Exactly,” Issie breathes out. “Boring.”
“Boring is good,” I announce, handing Nick a letter and giving another one to Astley. His eyes meet my eyes. We were talking about the same thing in the car today, about how our lives have settled into something calm. The Pixie Council has disbanded. Rogue kings still exist, but none right here, and none as bad as Frank. Amelie is in charge of the day-to-day aspects of the kingdom, and Astley, who was homeschooled and tutored his entire life, is attending high school with us, taking all AP classes. It’s disgusting. And nice. And disgusting. He’s as smart as Devyn. He’s going to deliberately get a B in health class (totally required to graduate for some reason) just to make sure Devyn keeps valedictorian for next year. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise.
“Remember when you came here?” Nick asks.
“She was all peace jeans and U2 songs,” Cassidy sighs, coming toward us. She walks with a little hitch now, like she’s still protecting her wounds. “And you two argued constantly.”
“Not constantly,” I argue, all defensive, casting a side look at Astley, but he’s not jealous. He never gets jealous, which is lovely but kind of weird.
“Constantly.” Nick laughs. He hands me back the letter. I pass it to Cassidy to sign. It’s about the death penalty, which is ironic because we’re protesting it being used unlawfully when we’ve used it unlawfully more times than I can count.
“And she’d always be mumbling those phobias under her breath.” Issie sits up. “It was so adorable.”
“Adorably neurotic,” Devyn says. “I thought she’d be my parents’ next patient.”
“Not nice,” Issie says, punching him in the shoulder.
“But true.” I agree with Devyn. I was a wreck. “Now I’m just neurotic about getting into college.”
“And keeping the world safe from those who don’t care about human rights,” Issie says.
“You will be accepted,” Astley says.
“That’s what Betty says.” I touch a tiny blade of grass. It’s so different from the grass in Charleston—thinner.
Cassidy looks up from signing her letter. “How’s Gram doing?”
“She still misses Mrs. Nix but is pretending not to. She’s taken over Mrs. Nix’s honey hives. It’s sweet and sad all at the same time, you know?”
For a minute we’re quiet. There have been so many funerals and wakes, in-school service days with counselors that they’ve shipped in so that those of us who are left can handle our post-traumatic stress and survivor guilt. The town has lost so many people.
There’s a little wind. Dandelion weeds are starting to poke up through the grass. Soon they’ll grow pretty yellow heads. Then they’ll turn to skeletons of themselves, and the wind will blow their seeds away, spreading them everywhere. Part of me wonders if that’s what the evil pixies are doing, waiting, ready to burst from the ground and spread everywhere. Part of me thinks I’m paranoid.
“So, spring break …,” Issie prompts. “How awesome.”
Cassidy eases herself to the ground next to us. “It will be.”
Cassidy is going on the show choir trip, as are Devyn and Nick. But Astley, Issie, and I are headed to Europe, to go to that villa Astley promised. We will see seals and flowers. We will be free of Bedford, no offense to it. It will just be nice to go someplace that wasn’t the site of massive deaths and evil.