Jude and I are looking at each other. Watching. Sunlight streams through the window, warms my back. I can hear the surf pounding the beach a block away. A magpie somewhere outside. My room smells of stale coffee and the half-melted vanilla-bean candle in a mason jar by my bed. My chest is a storm of emotion, thunderous and insistent.
‘What do you remember?’ Jude keeps his voice low, doesn’t move closer.
I bite my lip. Memory after memory rises up like a wave, crashes down, replaced by another. They just keep coming.
‘Gaby, we need to talk.’
‘I know. Just…’
I close my eyes. I’m unhinged, spinning. There’s a tornado under my ribs, surging and tearing at me. Voices in the kitchen, louder now. Mick Butler. Zak. Micah. Daisy. Footsteps in the hallway. I force my eyes open, let the world back in.
‘Gabe.’ Ez steps into the doorway. ‘What do you want us to do with the Butlers and their crew?’ Daisy appears between Ez and Jude, still rattled about having chosen to defy the Sanctuary and come with us.
I cast around for some thought to anchor me to the moment. Demons are coming to tear Pan Beach apart.
That’ll do.
I remember where I am. Who I am. ‘They’re human. They need to go home and sleep. We’ll catch up later at the Imperial.’ My voice is steadier than I expect. ‘Tell Mick to stay off the mountain.’
Ez frowns. ‘Are you okay?’ She looks at Jude and then back at me. ‘What’s happened?’
I shake my head. Swallow. My heart is racing. Ez and Daisy are going to hear my pulse if I don’t get out of here. ‘Just relieved to be home.’
Home.
‘When are you going to Rafa’s?’ Ez asks.
My stomach does a neat somersault. ‘Soon,’ I say. ‘I need a run.’ Because if I don’t burn energy soon, the chaos in my gut is going to rip me open.
‘A run?’ Daisy says. ‘Like, now?’
‘Yep.’ My mouth is dry.
‘What about everyone else? Shouldn’t we be—’
‘You can all chill for half an hour. We’ll work out a plan when I’m back.’ I’m talking too fast. I look around for my running gear, spy three-quarter tights in the pile of clean washing on my desk. ‘I need to change.’ I force myself to make eye contact with Daisy. ‘I won’t be long.’
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘No.’ It comes out too loud. Daisy stares at me, her straight red hair tucked behind her ears. Freckled cheeks flushed. ‘I need…space.’
Ez’s forehead is still creased. ‘But you’ll call into Rafa’s?’
I nod, noncommittal, and kick off my boots.
The voices in the kitchen are louder. Micah’s arguing with Rusty. Ez gives a meaningful glance in their direction. ‘I need to sort out these clowns. Daisy—a hand?’ Ez disappears back down the hallway. Daisy catches my eye for a second, shakes her head in frustration, and follows.
Jude stays. ‘Can we talk?’
Anger stirs—or the memory of it. I can’t tell what’s real and what’s an echo right now. ‘Let me get my head straight.’
‘Gaby—’
I grab a t-shirt and my running shoes and shift next door to Maggie’s room without looking at him. I stand for a moment, my breathing quick and ragged, thoughts tumbling.
Maggie’s bed is neatly made but her work table is a jumble of cloth bolts and patterns. Her sketchbook is closed, half-covered by a crimson shawl she started knitting last week. Chanel No. 5 still lingers. It brings another flood of memories—more recent—of cooking with Maggie in our kitchen, walking down the hill to work together, sharing the bathroom mirror. Drinking beer in our regular seats at Rick’s, overlooking the esplanade.
My throat tightens. I need to run. Now.
I shift with the shoes in my hand. It’s easy now, like walking. I pinpoint my arrival to a spot behind a hulking fig tree on the rainforest track. The path is empty under the leafy canopy. I stomp my foot on the trunk to jam my heel into the runner. I don’t realise how much I’m shaking until the third time I fumble the laces.
Quick hamstring and calf stretches. I fix my eyes on the track, anticipating the cool air against my skin, the burn in my muscles. I need the release. I need the escape.
But I already know I can’t outrun the thing I’m trying to avoid.
The truth.