CHAPTER 8

THE RAIN WAS LIGHTER AS BEL LED THE WAY BACK DOWN to the beach. She was still more than a little surprised Nolie’s dad had let them go, but when Nolie had asked to walk Bel back to her family’s shop, he’d been distracted reading something on his computer. “Try not to drown,” he’d called after them, and Nolie had laughed, even as the very word drown made Bel’s blood feel cold.

Only people who didn’t have the sea in their veins could make jokes about a thing like that.

Nolie was in her bright purple wellies again, and Bel’s own sensible greens nearly slid on the slick pebbles once they reached the shore. She and Nolie hadn’t talked much on their way here, but Bel got the idea that, to Nolie, this was all a bit of a laugh. Tromping down the beach to see a ghost. Nolie had grabbed a notebook out of her room—a big, airy space nothing like Bel’s little attic nook—before she’d left. It was black, covered in bright pink skulls, and when Bel glanced at it, Nolie just said, “For observations.”

They were nearly to the caves now, Nolie almost skipping ahead, the fear she’d felt yesterday clearly gone, and Bel trudged on, curious despite herself.

The rain had stopped altogether now, and Nolie shoved the hood of her rain slicker up as she studied the caves in front of them, tipping her head back to look up the cliff. They couldn’t see the Institute from here, but Bel knew Nolie was trying to work out her bearings. “I think it was this one?” she said, nodding at a slightly smaller cave than the one they’d gone into the day before.

“You said he was down there yesterday,” Bel reminded Nolie, gesturing a little ways down the beach, but Nolie shook her head.

“No, he went in this one today.”

And with that, she stepped forward, leaving Bel no choice but to follow.

As soon as she did, she could see why someone might choose this cave to hide in. It wasn’t as big as the other one, but it was darker, and she moved a little closer to Nolie. “It’s a prank,” she said, keeping her voice low. “I’m sure of it. We should go back.”

Nolie turned to her, confused. “You came with me yesterday,” she reminded Bel. “I thought . . . I guess I thought you liked it?”

Bel didn’t know how to explain that she’d only gone along because she thought Nolie would like it. And if this were some kind of stupid prank, what if it made Nolie think Bel might not be someone she wanted to be friends with after all?

“It’s just—” she started, and then she froze.

There was a sound from the back of the cave. A rustle, a slight intake of breath, and Bel slowly turned to see a figure standing just a few feet away.

Nolie saw him at the same time; a little shriek escaped her lips, and both girls stood there like their feet had been glued to the ground.

The boy stood against the back wall of the cave, a piece of driftwood held in one hand, lifted over his head. In the dim light of the cave, it was impossible to see much except that he was only a little taller than Bel herself, close to Nolie’s height. He was more a collection of shapes and shadows, and for all that Bel had teased Nolie about ghosts and monsters back here in these sea caves, she suddenly felt her throat go tight with fear.

“Stay back!” he warned. “I’ll dash yer brains out, see if I won’t!” For all his bold words, he didn’t sound confident in his brain-dashing skills, and there was something about his voice that struck Bel as odd. He was clearly Scottish like her, but his accent was thicker, less familiar than the voices she heard every day.

Maybe he was from Glasgow?

“Okay, easy, dude,” Nolie said, holding her hands up in front of her. Bel was impressed with how calm she sounded, but then, Nolie was American, so maybe this wasn’t the first time she’d had to deal with crazy people threatening to kill her.

“There’s no need for anyone to dash anything,” Nolie said. “We were just looking around the caves, and we’ll go now.”

“Ye do that,” the boy said, shaking the piece of driftwood for good measure.

Bel tugged at Nolie’s jacket. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

They backed up together, Bel’s fingers still tight around Nolie’s sleeve, their eyes on the boy in front of them. They were nearly to the mouth of the cave when the boy moved forward—just a little bit, but enough so that the light fell on his face, and Bel could see him clearly.

And when she did, her fingers fell from Nolie’s sleeve, suddenly feeling bloodless and numb.

“Al?” she asked, and he moved farther into the light.

There was no doubt in her mind that this was indeed Albert MacLeish, the boy she’d stared at on the back wall of her parents’ shop all her life. He was dressed in a dingy white shirt, a brown waistcoat over that, and brown trousers. His feet were bare and pale, which meant he had to be freezing. Bel could feel the damp through her shoes, after all. Being barefoot here would be painful, but he didn’t seem to notice.

He frowned at her, but dropped the arm at his side a fraction, his brow wrinkling with confusion. “How do you know my name?”

“We saw you yesterday,” Nolie said, giving Bel a look that clearly said, I told you so. “And also, you’re one of the dead people on the back wall of her family’s shop.”

“I’m not dead!” Al insisted, his voice a bit shrill.

“Then you’re a ghost,” Nolie said, practically bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. “An actual ghost, not even on night vision or anything.” Then she stopped bouncing, studying Al with her head tilted to one side a bit. “Or maybe you’re a zombie?”

Al was looking more and more freaked out, his gaze darting around, his hands clenching and unclenching in fists, and Bel decided it was time she stepped in.

“The boat was yours, wasn’t it?” she asked Al, taking a hesitant step forward. “The Selkie? We found her the other day. So you must’ve used it to come back from the Boundary, which sounds mad—”

“It is mad,” Nolie interrupted, “if we’re using that to mean ‘crazy.’ But that’s why this is all so great.”

Through all of this, Al was very quiet, watching them. He wasn’t wielding the branch anymore, which Bel thought was a good sign.

“What year is it?” she asked him. “I mean, what year was it when you went into the Boundary?”

Al waited so long to answer that Bel was afraid he wouldn’t say anything at all. But then he sniffed and said, “1918.”

Nolie blew out a long, shaky breath, and Bel felt like she’d just swallowed a whole net of butterflies. “So you are a ghost,” Bel said, and Albert stepped forward quickly, one finger pointing at her.

“I am no—” he began, and then his words ended in a hiss of pain.

He looked down, and Bel followed his gaze. Al had stubbed his big toe on one of the sharp rocks that littered the floor of the cave, and a bright line of red blood welled out from its tip.

“Um. I have read a lot of books about ghosts, and while I’m not an expert, I am pretty sure they don’t bleed,” Nolie said, breaking the silence.

“That’s fine. I’m not a ghost,” Al said, still sounding cross even as he sat down to inspect the cut.

“Then I’m right and you’re a zombie, which, in my book, is actually creepier.” Nolie turned back to Bel. “Has anything like this ever happened before? Someone coming back from the Boundary?”

There were a few spooky stories in those books that Nolie liked, saying that once a year, people who had been lost to the Boundary could come back to walk the beaches at night, things like that. Just scary tales for the tourists, nothing real.

“It’s impossible,” Bel said. “People don’t . . . not-grow-up for a hundred years.”

“A hundred years?”

They looked back to the rock where Al was sitting, and now he was staring at them, dark eyes wide. “That’s how long I’ve been gone?”

Bel’s mouth felt dry, and she realized she had no idea what to say to him. How would it feel to come back to a world where everyone you knew was long dead? Your friends? Your family? But no, he couldn’t be over a hundred years old, because that was impossible, and Bel McKissick did not believe in impossible things.

But she didn’t have to say anything, because Al suddenly shot to his feet, and with a scrabble of pebbles and something like a sob, ran off into the darkness.