Bea’s eyes suddenly flooded with tears. “Don’t. Rory, you don’t—”
I reached out and squeezed her hand. “It’s going to be okay,” I told her, barely believing it myself.
She looked desperately at Joaquin, but Fisher was the one who spoke up. “Jay, you’re not really going to do this. You’re not seriously going to tell me you think this is a good idea.”
“It may not be a good idea, but it’s the only idea we’ve got,” he said.
He reached over to take my hand and gave it a squeeze. My heart flooded and a faint blush crept up my cheeks. “You ready?” he asked.
I nodded, even though, of course, I wasn’t. “Let’s go.”
“No,” Lauren cried. “You guys! No! Don’t do this! Don’t—”
We took our first step into the wall of fog, and her frantic pleas were cut off. It was as if someone had hit a cosmic mute button and the world went silent, save for the mist. I took a breath. The fog undulated as I exhaled. Joaquin’s arm was warm and steady. He gave me a bolstering look.
“Okay?” he said.
“Okay.”
We took another slow, tentative step. Then a third, a fourth, a fifth. The air grew markedly colder with each breath. Joaquin adjusted his grip on my hand, and I could feel the slick sweat that had pooled between our palms.
“Tristan?” he called loudly, clearly.
There was nothing. Nothing but the hissing of the mist. We walked a bit farther, and I realized suddenly that it wasn’t even raining here in the murky grayness. The bridge was immune to the weather. Except for the fog.
“Tristan?” I said, then gulped. “Nadia?”
It was worth a try, but there was no response. My spine crawled, and I steeled myself, holding on tighter to Joaquin’s hand. Even if they were here, they wouldn’t be able to see us any better than we could see them. Right?
We took another tentative step. Another. And then we heard the laugh—and the whispering. Joaquin and I froze.
“…look at them…”
“…she thinks that she’s…”
“…can’t even…”
“…dead…”
A cold dread settled in my bones. I stood, holding my breath and listening.
“Who’s there?” Joaquin said at full voice.
The response was a single, sarcastic laugh. Male, female—I couldn’t tell. All I knew was that it was laughing at me. Then, a single icy finger trailed ever so slowly down the back of my neck. I gasped and then realized with a sinking feeling that I was no longer holding Joaquin’s hand. It was as if someone had grabbed him from behind and dragged him away so fast he didn’t even have time to scream.
“Joaquin!” I shouted. “Joaquin!”
The mist gathered around the spot where he’d stood, forming into a perfect wall as if he’d never even been there. Hot tears of terror coursed down my face.
“Joaquin! Where are you?” I could still feel the warmth of his fingers against mine. “Where are you?”
Silence, as complete and total as death. My fingernails drilled into my palms. I was alone.
Someone blew on my neck. I let out a screech and whirled around. Nothing but the mist.
“Stop it. Please,” I whimpered. “Please. Please don’t hurt him. I just want to find my sister. My dad. Please just leave us alone.”
“Rory!” a voice sang out teasingly. “Rooooreeee!”