“What?”
“He will not feel comfortable around so many of the living. You must go with him. And tell him he will be missed. For as long as I breathe, his name will not be forgotten.”
I’m about to say no, I’m not going, but something cold grabs me around the waist.
I’m dragged down a pitch-black hole in the ground, and we’re falling. I scream until the air in my lungs evaporates and is replaced by an arctic chill so cold I can’t feel most of my torso. It’s like having the wind knocked out of you and, afterwards, inhaling dry ice laced with Novocain.
The cold arm banded around my midriff burns my skin, but I can’t move. Meanwhile, we continue descending deeper and deeper.
Where’s he taking me? Maybe to that Hell Tiago mentioned.
Is this some sort of trap? Because I know Tiago doesn’t want me as queen. He never liked me. Pathetic, weak, fragile are the words he’s used to describe me. Not that I care what he thinks, but facts are facts. So was this his plan all along? Get me to lower my guard and hand me over to the No Ones?
My mind spins, and my body is in a state of suspended panic. My heart is pumping away, the adrenaline coursing through my veins, but my muscles aren’t reacting. It’s almost like traveling over the bridge, but worse. I’m cold. So cold.
I lose track of time, and when the falling ceases, I can’t claim it’s a relief. The air around me is filled with screams, thousands of voices crying out for mercy.
In an instant, the paralysis dissipates, and I open my eyes. We’re inside a living room, but the walls aren’t made of wood panels or plaster. It’s constructed of mist, shaped to look like the inside of a home.
Wait. I recognize the antler chandelier over the small round table in the corner. I know that couch and fireplace. Holy crap. It’s Bard’s cottage. It’s a ghostly version of his home.
A translucent white form zips across the room and reappears with a misty-looking tumbler.
I watch with wide eyes as the form, with Bard’s wide shoulders, pours a drink and hands it to me.
“Is it really you?” I squint, almost able to make out the finer details of his handsome face—the beard, the strong brow, the muscles in his neck—but there are no eyes. His mouth is more of a wafting shape filled with swirling fog.
He continues holding out the glass.
I look at it, unsure what will happen if I try to take it. I feel I have no choice.
With my trembling hand, I reach for the glass and wrap my fingers around the cold, smooth object. “I can feel it. The glass is real.”
“Yes, Lake. It is. And so am I.”
“So you’re not dead?” My eyes tear up.
“I am transformed. Neither dead nor alive.”
I push my free hand to my quivering lips. “Are you…okay?” What a stupid question. Of course he’s not okay! He’s a No One.
“I did what I had to,” he replies.
“But why did you hide so much from me? Why did you go home to Monsterland and cross the bridge again? Why did you—”
He pushes an icy finger to my lips. “I already explained: Rain was inconsolable after your mother’s death. I agreed not to tell you anything because she wanted to give you time to live your life. That is why I went to convince Alwar to give you the diamond. You needed to keep your home.”
“But not at the expense of—”
“I knew the price and gladly paid it,” he says firmly.
It must be why he sold his truck. He knew his days were numbered after that. The same reason probably drove him to burn down my house with my grandma’s journals inside. He was afraid he wouldn’t be around to protect me if the No Ones came. Yes, for me.
On my grandma’s deathbed, she made me promise to read them, but I didn’t. I believed they’d be filled with more of her insane stories about monsters and men living in the walls of the mansion. Little did I know at the time, but that promise I made had been binding, written onto Benicio’s skin, like all vows in Monsterland.
Why?
Because the Norfolks are held to the same Monsterland rules—whether it be a promise between Norfolks or a promise made to one of their creatures. We are connected to their world through our vow to the War People. I suppose it makes sense. We each vowed to protect each other’s way of life. And in their world, promises are serious business.
“I was right, wasn’t I? You burned down my house with Grandma Rain’s journals inside.”
He nods. “The No Ones were coming for me, and I feared they would soon take you, too. So I burned the journals to void the vow you made your grandmother. Your home was collateral damage. I am sorry.”