yday social event.
I recognized several of them as Juniper Landing locals, year-rounders in what I’d previously assumed was a vacation town. There was Bea McHenry, an athletic redhead, whose wet hair was slicked back into a ponytail, as though she’d just come in from a swim. Kevin Calandro, whose fire tattoo peeked out from under the arm of a dirty white T-shirt, eyed me curiously over the plastic top of his coffee cup. Next to him was Lauren Caldwell, whose black hair was held back by a plaid headband. Two girls and a guy I’d never seen before hovered in the corner, eyeing the rest of the group as if they didn’t want to be there.
A door on the far side of the room opened, and Joaquin Marquez, the boy who seemed so intent on breaking my sister’s heart, slipped out, followed by Tristan. One of the girls in the corner, a wispy emo chick with a short blond Mohawk, followed him with her eyes, an expression of longing I instantly recognized. It was exactly the way I used to look at Christopher Kane in the halls of Princeton Hills High, back when he was still with Darcy.
Fisher Morton was the last to step out of the back room. He closed and locked the door behind him quickly, then joined the rest of the party, turning his massive shoulders sideways to slip through the tightly knit group.
My lashes fluttered involuntarily. Why had he locked the door?
“You guys, she’s awake,” Krista Parrish announced, emerging from the crowd in a pink-and-white sundress. Her blond hair, the exact same shade as her brother’s, was pulled up in a high ponytail, her blue eyes expertly lined as she frowned sympathetically down at me. Ignoring the pain in my head, I sat up straight, taking in the whole room now. Behind her was a set of stairs leading up. An escape route.
I scrambled to my feet, my heart thumping. “What’s going on?” I asked, edging away from them toward the stairs. “Where are we?”
“Don’t worry,” Krista said gently, putting out a hand as if trying to soothe a rabid dog. “No one is going to hurt you.”
“I’m sorry it had to happen this way,” Tristan said, the edges of his mouth curving down. I remembered how he’d looked at me right before I’d passed out, and averted my eyes. “We’re in the basement of the police station.”
“You kidnapped me and brought me to the cops?” I blurted.
Mohawk Girl laughed loudly.
“We didn’t kidnap you,” Joaquin said, rolling his eyes. “We saved you. You and your family.”
Krista, Lauren, and Fisher looked at me so earnestly that all the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I felt as though I’d suddenly landed in the middle of a cult.
“Well, if I’m not kidnapped, can I…leave?” I said, taking another step toward the stairs.
“Sorry.” Fisher shook his head.
My heart nose-dived. That was the voice. The voice of the person who’d grabbed me on the beach. I took an instinctive step back and crashed into the wall. My pulse thrummed quickly in my veins.
“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” I demanded.
“We couldn’t let you tell your family,” Tristan replied.
“Excuse me?” I exhaled sharply. “You tell me we’re all dead and expect me not to tell my family?”
“You can’t,” Tristan repeated. There was all this emotion in his eyes. Longing and pleading. Like he was just trying to help. Like he needed me to understand. But at that moment, I didn’t trust it. I couldn’t.
“Try to stop me.”
I turned toward Fisher and jammed my foot down as hard as I could into his instep. He cursed and doubled over, giving me enough time to dodge past him, grab one of the wooden spindles that lined the stairs, and swing myself around and up the first two steps.
“Rory, no!” Joaquin shouted. Footsteps sounded behind me.
I tripped but hauled myself back up and kept going. I could see the light framing the doorway at the top.
“Stop!” Lauren called out. “Rory, they’ll—”
I flung myself forward, reaching for the door.
“If you tell your family, they’ll be damned to the Shadowlands!” Krista cried.
“Krista!” someone hissed.
“What? She was leaving!” Krista replied in a whine.
I paused with my fingers on the doorknob. My chest heaved with each breath. The Shadowlands? As I turned around, Tristan stepped into view at the bottom of the staircase. I stared down at him, barely able to make out his face in the dim light. Behind him on the wall was an old-fashioned painting of a sunset, the golden glow forming a halo around his head.