Chapter 56
QUITE THE NIGHT
Iwake up to the steady beep of monitors and a head that feels stuffed full of fuzz.
The lighting is dim. The only real illumination comes from the muted television mounted in the corner of the room.
I’m lying in an unfamiliar bed, dressed in a thin cotton gown with wires running beneath the collar.
There’s an IV in my arm, a clip on my finger, and a thick bandage wrapped tight around my left hand.
With a jolt, I try to sit up—to move.
But the pain in my head makes me wince.
The beeping quickens.
My dad comes to the end of a chair at my bedside, looking in sore need of a good shave.
“Easy,” he says as my good hand moves to the back of my head, where the pain radiates.
A small gauze pad has been taped into my hair.
“You’ve got quite the bump back there, sweetheart.”
I look out the window, trying to decipher the time, but the sky is an endless gray. Floodlights glow weakly over a parking lot where a snowplow scrapes and rumbles. Tree branches are glazed in ice. In the distance, snow-covered mountains disappear into the fog.
“How—how did I get here?” I ask, my throat dry.
“The ambulance,” Dad replies.
His eyes are bloodshot.
His clothes, rumpled.
“You have a concussion, Selah. And you had some sort of episode with your heart.”
My attention drifts toward the television. Ticker tape scrolls across the bottom of the screen. Missing Teens Found Alive in Foggy Hollow Woods. And suddenly, all the fuzzy pieces collide.
Mom, holding out the ruby.
Rafe, shooting the arrow.
Tentacles thrashing.
Winged creatures swooping.
The hounds lunging at Simon.
The empty boat spinning across the water.
Jude, running toward me, grabbing onto me.
“What happened?” I ask. “Is everyone okay?”
“Everyone is fine,” Dad says. And yet, there’s something in his eyes. Hesitation, perhaps. Or maybe a lie.
“Twig? Jude?”
He holds up his hands, as though to quell the rising pitch of my voice. “Spencer and Kate went home with their parents a couple hours ago. He didn’t want to leave, but everyone needs to get some sleep. And Jude is just fine, too.
“We should call for the nurse.” Dad pushes himself up from the chair to hit the button on my bedside table, then picks up a glass of water and helps me take a drink. “Jake took Harper home. Naomi’s down the hall. And Ivy Winslow…” He shakes his head. “They had a funeral for that girl.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s being monitored. So are the three that went missing last month.” He eases back into his chair and runs a hand down his tired face. “Selah, what you guys did…”
My pulse races.
The beeping quickens.
What, exactly, does he think we did?
What story has he been told?
Surely not the truth. He wouldn’t be sitting here so calmly if he knew the truth.
He leans forward and takes my hand. “You scared us half to death.”
“I’m sorry, Dad. I—”
The door opens.
A nurse steps inside.
“Well, look who’s finally awake,” she says with a kind smile. She pulls a penlight from her pocket. “I’m going to check your eyes, okay?”
The light flashes briefly across my vision.
“Good,” she says. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Selah Whitlock.”
“Do you know where you are?”
“The hospital.”
“Do you remember what happened?”
I swallow.
She doesn’t ask it like a police officer.
This isn’t an interrogation.
I get the sense she just needs to make sure my brains haven’t been addled. “We had a confrontation.”
“I’ll say.” She slips the penlight back into her pocket. “You kids have given us quite the night around here. ”
She lifts my bandaged hand and adjusts it slightly. “You got yourself a pretty deep cut. We stitched it up. You have a couple staples in the back of your head, too. Nothing to worry about.”
She glances at the beeping monitor. “Your vitals look good.”
With another smile, she taps something on the chart and turns to the door. “I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake.”
A moment later, she’s gone.
The television catches my eye again. Footage of flashing lights near the Vandenberg Estate flickers across the muted screen. The ticker tape continues to scroll. This time, with a jarring name.
Simon Vandenberg.
“I can’t believe it.” My father frowns at the television. “Him, living in the woods all this time, so close to the estate. Kidnapping kids.” He rubs the stubble on his jaw. “When I think of all the times you’ve gone jogging through the property, back in those woods by yourself…”
I squeeze his hand. “I’m okay, Dad.”
“You should never have gone after him like that.” He looks at me—stern, exasperated, relieved. “It’s hard to be angry when so many lives were saved. But Selah, things could have gone horribly wrong.”
“I know.”
His brow furrows. His mouth tightens. “Just promise me that if anything like this ever happens again, you’ll call the police.”
“I promise.”
He nods, like that is that. “I can’t lose you, Selah. I won’t.”
He’s afraid.
I understand why.
He doesn’t want to lose me like he lost her.
My mother.
Alive.
At least, she was.
I can’t stop seeing it—the empty rowboat spinning across the pond. The tentacles lashing through the air. Snatching up Brady. Snatching up Caleb. Their bodies pulled under. Is this what happened to her?
Dad gives his throat a gruff clear, then sets his hands on the armrests of his chair. “I suppose I should go get Jude.”
“He’s here?”
“That boy wasn’t leaving for nothing.” He pushes himself to standing and kisses my forehead. “I love you, Selah. More than anything.”
“I love you, too, Dad.”