That was why she’d been the only Lifer who hadn’t attended Krista’s party last night. She’d probably been off somewhere, plotting this—planning her ultimate revenge. She wanted Tristan so badly she was willing to betray the Lifers, usher my father before his time, and get me sent to Oblivion in the process.
Suddenly I remembered the pair of sinister eyes watching us through the window last night. The pair of dark, glittering eyes.
“Omigod,” I said again. “Omigodomigodomigod.”
“What the hell is the matter with you?” Darcy demanded.
I shoved myself up to my feet and ran, barreling down the steps. I stopped short when I saw the table by the door, bare. She’d taken the family picture. The only one I had of my mother, my father, Darcy, and me all together.
I was going to kill her.
Slamming the front door behind me, I ran for town. On Freesia, the guy on the bike with his surfboard swerved around me and crashed, but I didn’t care. I threw myself out onto Main Street and almost collided with someone’s chest.
“Rory!”
It was Joaquin. He held both my arms in a death grip as I bent toward him, heaving, gasping for air. At my toes, a long line of ants marched toward the curb.
“Where’s my father?” I begged. “Where’s my father, Joaquin? Where is he?”
I leaned past his shoulder, trying to get a look at the mayor’s house, needing to see.
“Rory,” he said, tugging me around in a circle, trying to put my back to the bluff. “Don’t. Just calm down. Just—”
“Get off me!” I screeched, shoving him so hard he fell to the sidewalk. For a split second, we both stared at each other, stunned. Then I turned to look.
There was the weather vane, gold and gleaming against the bright blue sky, sitting up with its proud swan, like its message was unimpeachable, like it had all the authority in the world.
And it was pointing south.
“Where’re you going?” Joaquin asked as I sprinted away from him and started across town, my eyes so blurry I could barely see straight.
“It was Nadia,” I spat, keeping my eye on Tristan’s house. “I know it was. I’m going to tell Tristan and the
mayor.”
“Rory, stop!” Joaquin shouted. He grabbed my arm as I reached the curb, and a car jammed on its brakes. “You’re going to hurt yourself. Just take a breath.”
“Take a breath?” I screamed, my heart splintering in my chest. “My father is in the Shadowlands! I can’t take a breath!”
Bea jogged up next to us. Her face was all red, and her hair was darker at the hairline, soaked with sweat. Fisher and Kevin were close behind, their jaws set, looking grim.
“What happened?” Bea demanded, gasping for air. “Where’s the fog?”
“Her dad was taken,” Joaquin told them, still holding on to my arm.
“What?” Kevin’s eyes were wide. “Who?”
“Nadia,” I said, gnashing my teeth.
“You’re kidding,” Bea replied.
“We don’t know that for sure,” Joaquin said placatingly.
“No. You don’t know that for sure.” I lowered my voice as two visitors strolled by, carefree, holding hands. “I know what I saw. She was at my window last night, watching us. Just waiting for us to fall asleep so she could take him.”
Tears welled up behind my eyes as I remembered the feeling of my father’s arm around me, my cheek resting against his chest. I fought as hard as I could to keep them at bay. I couldn’t break down right now. I had to help my father.
“Rory, I know you don’t like Nadia and she doesn’t like you,” Bea said. “But she would never do something like this. She lives for the rules almost as much as Tristan does.”