When they’d finished talking, Peach and Plum made their way back outside to join the others basking in the midmorning sunlight, enjoying the freedom of not having a demented killer at their backs.
Henrietta contentedly pecked at the ground, moving slowly around their group.
Plum explained Dude’s entire plan. About the tunnel, using Brittlyn’s body to make it look like he’d died in the cottage. About how his finale was to burn them all in the villa inside their locked rooms.
Jude lay stretched on the lawn. Henrietta cocked an eye at the teen’s hair within her reach.
“Well, thank God it’s over.” Jude sighed happily. He swatted lightly at the chicken.
“We still have to get off this island,” Cici said.
“I’m not worried,” Plum said. “Dude had a plan. He planned to get off here, and there’s no other way off this island. I bet you anything tomorrow a boat will come. Or something.”
“And if not, we can start eating the goats,” Jalen offered.
“No way, that goat saved my life,” Plum said.
“Well, maybe wherever he is now, Dude’s happy,” Jude suggested.
“What do you mean?” Cici asked.
Jude sat up. Little bits of grass stuck to his hair. “Just that he was doing all those poetic deaths, you know?” He turned bright eyes around the group.
“What’s poetic about a billy goat butting him in the butt?” Peach asked, then tittered at the words.
They all started giggling.
Jude still managed to get his words out. “Just . . . you know . . . billy goats.”
Plum started coughing on her own spit, she was laughing so hard.
Marlowe squeezed her hand. “I don’t get it.” Marlowe wasn’t the only one smiling, ready to laugh at whatever was transporting Plum, Jude, Peach, and Cici.
“You know . . . ’cause he was a troll.” Plum wheezed the last word. If it was wrong to laugh, safe in the sun, at the way an evil murderer had died, well.
Sue her.
Cici stopped laughing and put a hand up to shield her eyes. She was staring out at the ocean.
“Do you see—” Peach began, squinting in the same direction.
“A boat!” Marlowe shouted, jumping to her feet and pointing.
“Hot damn, we’re saved!” Jude yelped.
Sofia scooped up Henrietta. Marlowe helped Plum up. They assisted each other down the cliff path as the small boat grew larger as it got closer. On the pebble beach, they stood near the remains of the burned dock.
It wasn’t just a boat.
It was a yacht.
Party music was clearly audible as the boat arrived in the small bay. People crowded the decks, dancing, waving, and cheering. There was a blast of sound as the yacht honked at them.
“Is that . . . ?” Cici murmured.
“. . . the booze cruise?” Sofia finished the thought.
“No way,” Jude breathed. “With everything else fake, why would that be real? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Um.” Peach’s voice was light.
They all turned to her. Peach was blushing, playing with the tips of her hair.
“Oh.” Marlowe started to laugh.
Plum still didn’t get it.
“It’s her billionaire,” Marlowe explained.
Cici snorted. “Fifty Shades guy? How’d he know to come here?”
Peach preened with barely suppressed delight. “Remember? I posted on Instagram and TikTok about the fest from the helicopter! I guess it went through after all!”
On the boat, a well-dressed man waited by the railing as his crew maneuvered as close as possible. There was a flurry of activity, an anchor lowering, a smaller boat being prepared.
The man was younger than Plum expected, perhaps in his thirties, good-looking with a bright smile. “Peach, I found you!” he called out.
Peach did a curtsy dip. “I’m so glad!” she called back. “What are you going to do about it?”
The man dived off the boat without a moment’s hesitation. The partiers on the yacht cheered as he swam and then splashed ashore.
“Oh my God, it’s like a movie.” Cici breathed appreciatively.
The man swiped water out of his face. He walked up the rocky beach to where they stood.
“Edward, this is my baby sister, Plum,” Peach said.
“Nice to meet you.” Edward smiled at her.
“Same. Um, so, do you have a radio on that boat?” Plum asked. “We’ve got to get the authorities out here.”
“Hold up, Plum, give him a minute,” Peach interrupted.
“Peach Winter, you’re exhausting,” Edward said, but he was smiling.
Peach threw her hat aside, took three long strides, and wrapped Edward in a passionate embrace.
After a moment of surprise, Edward returned it.
The partiers cheered as the yacht horn blasted.
“This is too much.” Marlowe laughed. But she squeezed Plum’s hand, stroking her thumb along the back of it.
A delicious shiver curled in Plum’s belly. “Yeah, you guys,” Plum teased her sister when she stopped kissing Edward. “Get a room.”
And Plum was surprised, in that moment, to feel . . . complete. No sense of longing or of missing out. Just a profound gratitude to be alive, with her best friends, with Marlowe now her girlfriend—she still couldn’t believe that part.
For once, Plum Winter didn’t want to be anyone else, didn’t want to be anywhere else. The gnawing feeling was gone, the anxiety that she wasn’t enough, that life was passing her by, the yearning hunger to run away. To get away from herself by becoming someone else.
All that was an illusion, anyway. Fame, the internet, the careful presentation of a seemingly beautiful life. Her sister was just a person, like other people. The other influencers all had the same problems, the same emotions, the same longings.
Just like everyone. Just like anyone.
The first boatload of partiers arrived, splashing out of the dinghy and rushing ashore.
“Oh, Peach, you look divine! Is that blood on your dress?” a woman with a vaguely familiar face asked.
Plum realized she recognized her as another influencer who often partied with Peach.
“Yes, it’s all the rage,” Peach stated blandly.
“Oh, I can’t wait to hear all about it. Where’s the villa? Who are these people?” the woman asked.
Jude stepped forward, his hand out. “I’m Jude. Jude Turner.”
“Turner?” Cici asked.
Jude shrugged. “It’s my real last name.”
“Nice to meet you,” the woman said perfunctorily.
A wide smile crossed Cici’s face. “I’m Cici Bello.” She was talking to their small group, not the new arrivals. “That is my real name, and I do love makeup.”
“It looks good on you,” Plum said.
“Beauty culture can be toxic, though.” Cici put her hands on her hips, a pose that reminded Plum of a superhero lecturing the kids they’d just saved from the runaway train. “I’ll be more careful about that part.”
“I’m Marlowe,” Marlowe said, reintroducing herself to their group. “And this is my girlfriend, Plum. She finally knows how I feel.”
Peach gave a cheer. Edward whistled.
“I’m Plum, and these are my closest friends for life, Marlowe and Sofia.” Plum felt a goofy smile spread across her face. “They forgive me and understand me when I don’t even understand myself.”
Sofia swatted Plum’s arm. “Oh my gosh, stop. I’m gonna cry.” She was smiling though as she turned back to Jude, completing their circle.
“I’m Sofia, and I shouldn’t even be here right now. I’m so grounded. But that’s okay.” She laughed and leaned into Plum’s arm. “My older sister will be there for me, just like yours.”
Plum glanced at Peach.
Peach gave a confident nod. They would face Plum’s mom and their dad together.
That disco ball started spinning in Plum’s heart again.
“Do you think Krystal will be mad there’s no swag bags?” Marlowe asked Sofia with a smile.
“She’ll be happy we made it out alive,” Plum promised.
“Well, it’s not like I’m coming home empty-handed.” Sofia gently bounced the hen on her hip. She turned to their group, completing their new introductions. “This is Henrietta, my rescue chicken. I’m going to spoil the hell out of her from now on.”
“I want to see that!” Cici said. “You better make her an Instagram.”
“Henrietta looks more like a TikTok star to me,” Jude suggested.
“What are they talking about?” the woman influencer asked Peach. “Do they have heatstroke?”
“You’ve arrived at a murder festival,” Peach explained. “But it’s over now.”
The woman looked crestfallen. “No Diplo?”
Plum suppressed a laugh. “No, you missed him. You missed everything.”
“Damn it!” the woman cursed.
Plum started laughing. Sofia and Marlowe joined in, the three of them leaning against one another helplessly.
“We really should call the police,” Peach told Edward.
“Wait, that’s real blood? What happened here?” Edward asked, his eyes wide in shock.
“Yeah,” Peach said. “We kind of all had to escape a killer.”
Jalen shook his head at the others, laughing and hugging. He held up his phone under his mouth. “The strain was too much to bear,” he said in his profound podcast voice. “The other influencers at Pyre Festival have taken refuge in hysterics.”
Plum snatched the phone out of Jalen’s hand. “That word has a sexist history,” she narrated into the mic. “I object. We’re not influencers, either. For the record.”
Jalen sighed. “Fine, fine, give it back.”
Plum returned his phone.
“This has been Bloody Grounds. I’m your host, Jalen Jones. And this was Pyre Festival.”
A raucous whoop sounded behind them.
A trio of young people, a girl and two guys, splashed ashore from the dinghy.
“Woooo!” one of the guys cheered. “Pyre Festival!”
The girl pumped her arm in the air. “Set the night on fire!” she cheered.
Plum slung an arm around her girlfriend, Marlowe, and her best friend, Sofia. “Have fun, kids,” she told the trio. “We can’t wait to get home.”