Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
Emma
Morning in the cabin arrived in slow motion, the way hangovers or grief do. A creeping, painful thing that made me wish for more sleep and fewer regrets.
The first thing I noticed was the smell of bacon. I uncurled myself from the chair where I’d managed to get a few hours' sleep and tried to work out the horrible kink in my neck.
I stepped into the kitchen to find that Henry was sitting next to Alice on the bench by the kitchen table, so close they could’ve shared a shirt.
He watched her like she might vanish if he blinked.
Beth nursed a mug of coffee, dark circles under her eyes.
Daniel had his back to the room, flipping pancakes.
I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down.
The wood of the bench pressed up against my thighs, a solid reminder that I hadn’t dreamed any of this.
My knees ached from last night’s death march, and my shoulder protested when I reached for butter.
Next to me, Alice wrapped both hands around her mug and stared into it like it might show her the meaning of life.
Her hands shook so much I thought she’d shatter the ceramic.
Every now and then, Henry squeezed her arm or put a hand on her shoulder like he was trying to anchor her to earth.
Nobody talked.
Not a real conversation, anyway. Beth asked Daniel for sugar, and he handed it over without looking up.
I loaded my plate with carbs and made a half-hearted attempt to get food in my mouth without tasting anything.
When I tried to cut my pancake, the knife screeched against the plate like a horror movie sound effect, and everyone at the table flinched.
Yikes. Could breakfast be any more awkward?
Alice tried to get a bite down, but her fork trembled so badly she put it down.
Then, Henry grabbed her fork and began to slowly feed her.
Every so often, Alice’s eyes would dart to the window, then back to the plate, as if she expected someone, or something, to appear out of the woods and smash through the glass.
Daniel shoveled pancakes the way a pro would, but his jaw was clenched, and he kept glancing at the door. Maybe he thought whatever had spooked Alice would come knocking for breakfast. I was starting to think it might.
I finished my coffee, wiped my lips, and waited for someone else to break the silence.
Nobody did.
Finally, Alice shook her head, and Henry set down the fork. Then, she grabbed her cup and took a big drink before setting her mug down with a thunk. The coffee nearly sloshed over the side.
Her mouth opened, but no words came out.
Henry leaned in, his arm pressed to hers, eyes big and worried. Even Beth paused mid-bite, pushing her plate aside.
Alice took a shaky breath. “I need to tell you what happened.”
Every person at the table stilled.
“Start wherever you need to, honey,” Beth said.
Alice nodded. Her eyes were glassy and haunted, the look of someone who’d just come off the world’s worst amusement park ride and realized she’d never even buckled her seatbelt.
“My grandmother called. She sounded scared. I’d never heard her like that. She said, ‘Alice, I need help. Please, hurry.’ Then—there was this scream. Not her voice. I don’t know whose it was. The call just ended.”
Even Henry’s breathing went shallow.
“What did you do then?” I asked, trying to keep my tone gentle.
She squeezed the napkin until the edges started ripping.
“I got dressed and drove straight here. By the time it occurred to me to call you, Henry, I’d lost my phone service.
I got here and the lights were all off. Like, every light.
Even the porch bulb, and Grandma never leaves that off.
The power was out, but the door was open. Just wide open.”
Beth’s hands curled around her mug, white-knuckled.
“I went inside. It was dark, really dark, but I thought I could maybe use my magic to…to pick up on where she was. I know I’m not great at using my magic to find people, but sometimes if I really concentrate…
” Alice hunched her shoulders. “I could sense her. Or what was left. Not like a smell or a sound, but this almost—” She trailed off.
“You could tell she was somewhere nearby?” Daniel said, all business.
Alice nodded. “In the woods. Close to the house, but not in it.” Every word seemed to cost her. She dabbed at her nose, then started twisting the napkin again.
Henry stroked her back, slow and steady. “You’re doing great. Take your time.”
Alice took a breath that sounded broken. “I was so scared. I didn’t think. Just started running. I grabbed a flashlight, but it died right away. I used the moon, but I still knew how easy it’d be to get lost.”
“That’s why you left the yarn?” I asked.
She blinked, surprised that someone else had noticed. “Yeah. I didn’t want to end up like that guy in the maze. The one who never gets out? That used to give me nightmares as a kid. I pulled yarn out of my sweater, ripped it off, and dropped it every couple of steps. I thought I was being smart.”
“You were,” Beth said. “That’s how we found you.”
Alice offered a shaky smile, but it faded right away.
“I kept walking. Nothing made sense. Sometimes I heard things behind me, like footsteps, but whenever I looked back, there was nothing. It was just darkness. At one point, I tripped and landed right in the creek, but I don’t remember how I even got that far. ”
She looked at me for help, then at Henry. “I knew I had to keep going. I don’t know why. There was something in the woods. Not a person, not an animal. It didn’t want me to leave, but I couldn’t stop. I just kept thinking about Grandma. That she needed me.”
I leaned forward. “Did you see anything else? Hear anything besides footsteps?”
Alice hesitated, then nodded. “Breathing. Sometimes it sounded right behind me. And this buzzing, almost, inside my head. But I couldn’t focus on it.” She winced. “That sounds nuts.”
“Nothing about the last few nights was normal,” I said, shooting Beth a look to back me up.
Beth nodded, her lips pressed tight. “What’s the last thing you remember before Henry found you?”
Alice’s brow furrowed. “I was by the creek. My feet were wet, and I was so tired. I just wanted to lie down for a second. Then Henry was there.”
Henry gave her a proud, lopsided smile. “I’m glad I found you.”
For a second, nobody spoke. The only sound was a soft thud from the fire, and Alice’s tiny sniffling breaths.
“I’m just glad I wasn’t out there too long,” Alice said, followed by a shudder.
I braced myself, then broke the news. “Alice, you were gone for three days.”
She didn’t get it at first. “No. No, it was just last night.”
“No.” I shook my head. “It’s Friday now. You went missing Tuesday night.”
That’s when her hands started shaking again, worse than before. She pressed her palms to her head, as if she could force the facts to fit. “That can’t be right. I never… There’s no way. I remember everything. I was only out there a few hours. Maybe a day.” Her cheeks lost all color.
“Three days,” I repeated as gently as I could.
Alice’s eyes went glassy again, but this time with panic. “Three days?” she whispered. “But that means, oh.”
She slapped a hand over her mouth, then doubled over, elbows on the table. The napkin dropped to the floor, a mangled wreck.
Henry tightened his grip on her shoulder. “Alice, you’re okay. We’ve got you. You’re here now.”
She took a few breaths, fighting for control.
Alice finally raised her head. “I don’t care what happened to me,” she said, and her voice didn’t shake this time. “We need to find her. Grandma’s still out there. I know it.”
Beth nodded like a member of the Loyalty Olympics. “If she’s out there, we’ll find her.”
Daniel stood up and started clearing dishes, one hand on his hip. “If she’s in the woods, we’ll need to move fast. Whatever did this,” he gestured at Alice, at the cabin, at the whole disaster we were living, “might come back.”
I felt the weird electric pull of the karma magic in my chest. That sense of cosmic debt, like the world owed Alice something, and it was using me to pay up.
I reached for Alice’s hand, squeezed it, and said what I already believed, “We are going to find her.”
Henry touched her hair, smoothing it back, then started making a list aloud. “Water. Trail mix. Bandages. Rain jackets. Maps.”
Beth got up and started hunting through the cupboards, tossing granola bars into a pile on the counter. Daniel filled water bottles and lined them up.
I fished out a battered first aid kit from above the fridge and checked what was inside. Gauze, tape, the world’s tiniest bottle of iodine, band-aids sporting cartoon bears.
Alice watched, brow furrowed, but didn’t object when Henry dug through the tiny closet and produced a jacket thick enough for a trip to Antarctica. He helped her into it, fussing over her hood and zipper like the overbearing fiancé of the year.
Under the table, Alice balled her fists to stop the shivering. She looked like a lost kid at Disneyland, but when she stood, she did it with her chin up and her jaw set.
I got her some gloves, jammed her hands inside, and zipped the jacket tight.
By the time we were ready, the kitchen looked like an REI store had exploded in it. Three water bottles per person, a backpack of snacks, and enough flashlights to blind a small army. Henry even found a whistle and looped it around Alice’s neck, “just in case.”
Beth checked the compass one more time and slipped it into her pocket.
Daniel was sniffing Alice’s grandmother’s pillow, getting her scent the best he could, even though we’d mostly be depending on Alice’s powers.
I stuffed the first aid kit and a roll of duct tape into my bag, because nothing said “prepared” like a roll of duct tape.
At the door, the sun sprayed golden lines across the floor, banding us all in stripes of nervous optimism. It was way too early for bravery, but sometimes you had to fake it.
Daniel opened the door and paused, one hand braced on the frame. “Ready?” he asked.
Nobody answered.
We just piled out onto the porch, Alice tucked between Henry and me, Beth leading the way with the compass steady, and her jaw squared off at the trees.
The woods glittered with dew and menace. Every branch held its own secrets, but we were coming for them anyway.
This was family business now.
And God help whatever got in our way.