I close my eyes and shake my head and try to keep the panic at bay, but it’s here — it’s always here — closing in on me. I spin, looking away from the fire, trying to find air to breathe that doesn’t taste like smoke.
I push away from the flames and only realize how far I’ve walked when I feel the sand beneath my feet turn to rock and grass. The smoke is fainter here. The flickering light is muted, and I can feel my heart stop pounding and my head stop spinning.
I put on my shoes and pull a flashlight from my pocket. No one looks at me like I’m a freak because I have one. I just look … prepared.
There are noises in the trees. I hear a few shouts, some laughing. Couples who have peeled away from the pack for a few moments of privacy, overanxious boys eager to jump out of the woods and scare some unsuspecting female who has been told tales of monsters and ghosts.
No one dares to jump out at me.
I let the beam of my flashlight dance across the trees and bushes, the outcroppings of rock and the boulders that, upon closer inspection, look more like giant fists, fighting free of the ground. I step closer, let my light and my gaze sweep deeper into the overgrowth. Vines have almost overtaken the island. They climb and crawl, and I swear I can almost feel them wrapping around my ankle. I kick and claw, spinning.
And that is when I see it.
Someone has carved something into the trunk of one of the ancient trees. I step closer, shine my light directly on the words, and make myself say them aloud.
“Caroline and Dominic forever.”
And just like that my blood turns cold.
Moms aren’t supposed to have pasts. Not old crushes or first loves. But the words have been there for ages, I can tell, and it’s far too easy to imagine another night in another year — another party filled with other kids. I can’t help but see my mother here. Alive and young and in love. Long before my father. Long before me.
Long before everything went wrong.
Suddenly, I think I’m going to be sick. I want to cry, but I don’t cry anymore. My grief comes out of me in other ways. I can feel it in my pounding heart, my running feet.
My promise to Noah is the furthest thing from my mind. Besides, I’m not wandering off. I’m fleeing, retreating, going deeper inland, exploring this new place that is actually incredibly old. I only know that I can’t go back to the music and the fire and the laughing. I don’t belong there. I’m far more at home in the dark.
When I reach something of a clearing, I let myself stop. I can feel the moonlight upon my face. The music is fainter and the smell of smoke is all but gone. Wonder takes the place of panic. I don’t know how far I’ve run. I don’t care. I’m too mesmerized by the sight before me.
A temple. A fort. Something is built into the side of a hill. I’m not sure what it is, but something draws me toward the massive pillars. Some still stand, and some have tumbled, spilling and breaking onto the ground, returning to the earth that bore them. Creeping vines cover almost every surface as if trying to pull the old walls down.
In the darkness, I have no idea how large it is. My light is too small, almost insignificant as it sweeps across something that must have once been an entrance. But now there are crumbling rocks and sagging arches. It’s not safe — even I know that. But when my light catches the Society’s symbol, I step closer. It’s like a magnet drawing me into the dark.
“I thought that was you.”
The voice startles me, and I spin, remembering suddenly that I’m not alone on this island. It’s a voice I recognize but don’t quite know, and it takes a second to find the figure standing in the trees, one hand held up to shelter his eyes against the glare.
“Lower the flashlight, will ya?”
Spence.
Spence has come to the party. Which means my brother is on this island.
“What are you doing here?” I ask when he steps closer.
“We heard there was a party,” Spence says, but he’s no longer looking at me. I watch him take in the trees and vines, the dim outline of crumbling towers and ancient ruins.
“So in other words, Jamie followed me.”
“Yes.” Spence flashes me a smile.
“And he sent you to keep an eye on me.”
“No.” Spence looks sheepish, charming. He gives me the kind of grin that probably goes over big with the girls around West Point. “I volunteered,” he says, but I’m not flattered, and I don’t say a single word.
“Wow. What is this place?” he asks after a while.
“Just some ruins,” I say, protective. If I’m not supposed to be here, then neither is he. And I’ve never been good at sharing.
I should tell him to go. I should tell him I want to be alone, because I do. But Spence doesn’t know the truth about my mother. He has probably never heard of the Scarred Man. This is the closest I can get to being alone while in the company of another human being, so I don’t ask him to leave. I just think about how, when my mom was my age, she was coming to parties on this island. She was joining the Society.
She was falling in love.
For a moment, I think about Alexei. He must be back in Russia by now. Home and safely out of my blast radius. It should make me happy that I can no longer hurt him. But it doesn’t.
I feel Spence coming closer. Soon his arm is brushing against mine, and I see him looking up at the symbol hidden among the ruins.
“That’s cool,” he says. “What is it? It looks kind of familiar.”