37 DAYS UNTIL THE AUTUMNAL EQUINOX, MID-MORNING
“Skye.” Rives gently took one of my hands in his. “Look at me, please.”
I did.
“I don’t know what’s wrong or how I can help. You’re fading away right in front of my eyes, like when we were back home, but here it’s worse. Skye—” His voice cracked. “Let me in, let me help. Talk to me, Skye. Please don’t shut me out.”
But I already had. I’d had to, because Rives was the one person who could break me completely.
“I love you, too. More than you know.” I closed my eyes and climbed inside my tiny room of pure white walls. The door closed; I was completely alone. Less hurt, less feeling. Less me. But at least here I could breathe. Exhaling slowly, I opened my eyes to Rives’s pain-filled ones, knowing mine looked blank. “But right now this is about more than us. Trust me to know what the right thing to do is, okay? Trust me to do the right thing.”
“For us?” He barely breathed.
“For everyone.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” The light left Rives’s eyes.
For a moment, time stopped. Seconds fell, untouched, vanishing into the gulf growing between us.
“Rives!” Paulo’s shout restarted the clock. “Got a minute?”
Rives dropped my hand, kissed my forehead, and left me sitting alone in the midst of a crowd. I walked to the ocean, drifting slightly north to a pile of black rocks that jutted out. Climbing onto the biggest one, I sat down.
I’d seen too much.
Too many hopes and dreams, too many loves lost, too many hearts broken and minds shattered. I’d seen beauty on a grand scale, and ugly on a microscopic one; I’d observed cruelty and kindness and courage and cowardice. I’d seen every visitor to Nil through Nil’s eyes; I’d witnessed each visitor’s journey. And I’d felt what Nil felt, mirroring us.
I’d felt the island’s growth and change and horror and more.
I’d understood its evolution.
It. Was. Too. Much.
But I couldn’t go back, and I couldn’t stop knowing. New pathways had been forged, new memories seared permanently into place. I was the ultimate accidental voyeur, and I could hardly bear it. I’d never felt so insignificant in my own head—or so overwhelmed.
I dropped my head into my hands.
“Skye?” Thad touched my shoulder like the wind. “Are you okay?”
Not even close.
“No,” I said slowly, “I’m not okay. I thought it would get better. That the memories would fade. That the pain would fade.” I looked at Thad. “But it hasn’t. And I don’t think it ever will.”
Thad was silent at first.
“Rives is worried about you,” he said finally.
He should be, I thought.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking,” Thad continued, “but if you need an ear, you can talk to me. I know Charley would be a better listener, but I don’t totally suck.” His slight grin was crooked.
“Thanks.” I looked at him, seeing everything so clearly. “I know you still haven’t forgiven me for being here. I understand why. But you truly have my word that I didn’t mean for you or Charley or Rives to come back, or me either. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t meant to be.”
Thad regarded me quietly.
“You need to get Nil out of your head, Skye. Don’t listen to it. You’re stronger than Nil. Block it out.”
“I wish I could,” I whispered. Thad couldn’t understand, because he hadn’t seen; he hadn’t felt. Not like me. But I could show him one tiny drop of the ocean of memories swimming in my head.
Slowly, deliberately, taking care with each syllable and line, I recited words that weren’t mine, each one brimming with the pain and desperation and hope saturating the memory behind it:
a cruel joke
a twist of fate
to meet you when it’s almost too late
my days are numbered
my clock is ticking
shattered hopes are wounds I’m licking
you only live once
I get it now
I’ve lost my heart don’t even know how
take it break it
don’t want it back
I’m bleeding out the odds are stacked
for you I’d run
for you I’d die
c’mon Nil
just one more try
I fell silent.
Thad stared at me, stunned. “How could you know that? I wrote those lyrics in my head on my last night here while Charley was sleeping. I never told her, never wrote them down. How could you know that?”
“Like I said, I know everything. Saw everything.” My tone had grown detached. When someone else’s memories spilled, there was little room left for me. “It’s all here.” I tapped my head. “But the memories aren’t mine anymore, Thad. And it’s not just the memories; it’s the emotion they bring. I can’t shut it off. Can’t shut it out.” Not without shutting out me.
Thad still looked stunned, and slightly skeptical.
“One more?” I asked. Without waiting, I recited Thad’s own words, desperate to get them out of my head.
barrel pointed
at my head
noon tells me
you want me dead
go on do it
squeeze the trigger
whispers
laughs
they’re getting bigger
drop the gun
throw it down
I hate you
I own you
I’m your clown
hold up lash out
sling it back
run it
time it
I bet on black—
“Stop.” Thad’s voice was hoarse as he cut me off. “I get it.” His expression had shifted to understanding and, if I wasn’t mistaken, fear. “That’s a lot of information.”
“You have no idea.” My tone was matter-of-fact. How can I feel both hollow and saturated to the point of bursting? I couldn’t bear to be in my own head.
A moment passed where the only noise was the crash of waves.
“I didn’t even know you played the guitar,” I said quietly. It seemed important, now.
“I do,” Thad said absently. He turned to me, all traces of resentment gone.
“Can I do anything?” he asked.
“Actually, yes. Do you remember how, on your Day Three Hundred Sixty-four last time, you asked Rives to have Charley’s back if your last day didn’t work out like you hoped?”
Thad’s expression was wary. “Yeah?”
“I want you to have Rives’s back. If the last day works out like I think it will, he’ll need you. And you have to make sure he takes the equinox gate—before me.”
“Skye, no.” Thad’s eyes widened in shocked comprehension. “Don’t do this.”
“I don’t have a choice. I’m the only one who can do what has to be done. Promise me, Thad. Promise me you’ll have Rives’s back. Promise me you’ll make sure he lets me go.”
Thad understood that I was talking about more than the gate. He shook his head, over and over. “Please, Skye. Please don’t do this. It’ll kill him.”
“No, it won’t. It’ll save him. Promise me, Thad.”
“I promise.” His voice was dull.
“One more thing.” An image of Dai’s trembling figure flashed through my head, and I felt terrible that I hadn’t made him a priority before. “There’s a boy on the sand of South Beach and he’s fighting a fever. We need to send someone to help him before it’s too late.”
Thad stood. “I don’t know how much we can do for him.”
“We can make sure he doesn’t die with only Nil for company,” I whispered. “We’re better than that.”
“Okay, Nil slayer.” Thad’s tone was heavy. “I’m on it.”