CHAPTER

Twenty

CLAIRE

Kissing Julie is like waking up from a nightmare. The horror of being locked in the car, watching the Gulf draw closer and closer, drains away. Claire grabs both of Julie’s hands and holds them tight.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “Thank you for saving me.”

Julie shrugs. Then she grins. “My pleasure.”

Claire laughs. She throws her arms around Julie’s neck and kisses her again. She doesn’t care about the rain pounding around them, about the water sloshing up to the dunes, about Lawrence. All summer Claire has been working through her own confusion to come to this point, to this kiss. She used to want to kiss Josh, now she wants to kiss Julie. She can like both.

Lawrence coughs.

“This beach is still going to flood!” he shouts over the roar of the rain. “We need to get to higher ground.”

Claire and Julie pull apart. Julie smiles. “Typical Lawrence,” she says in a low voice, reassuringly. “When he gets freaked out he starts acting more like a cop than usual.”

Claire laughs a little, but for the first time since crawling out of the car, she’s aware that she’s soaked through and shivering. Thunder rumbles overhead.

She grabs Julie’s hand, and together they run toward the boardwalk, toward Lawrence standing with his arms crossed. He’s still wearing that cape. Funny, how earlier it had made him seem all the more terrifying. Now he just looks ridiculous.

“Come on,” he says brusquely, like he’s an authority figure. Together the three of them walk through the dunes, Lawrence leading, Claire and Julie trailing, holding hands. Without the magic of the kiss, Claire slowly comes to terms with everything that happened.

Audrey put her in Abigail’s dress.

She locked Claire in a car on the beach.

Claire almost died.

I almost died. The idea shudders around her head. She glances over at Julie, water-logged and smiling.

Nothing makes sense, except for Julie.

When they climb up over the seawall, they’re standing on the edge of downtown. Half the streetlamps are out, but the Pirate’s Den sign glows at the end of the block, casting eerie red light into the rain.

“We can call the station from there,” Lawrence says, striding ahead with long, anxious steps. “Get out of the rain for a little while.”

Julie glances over at Claire. “Sound okay?”

“Sounds perfect.” Claire didn’t realize how hungry she was until now. Her whole body is drained of energy.

They march through the downpour and file into the Pirate’s Den. The arcade cabinets beep and chirp and let out light like a row of hearths. The man behind the counter gives a wave. Lawrence waves back like they know each other.

“Looks like you were caught in the storm,” the man says. “Ever make it to the dance?”

“Not quite.” Lawrence leans against the counter and runs his fingers through his hair. His hand is shaking, even if he’s managing to keep his voice even. “Mind if I use your phone? I don’t have any change on me.”

The man chuckles. “Why don’t you have something to eat? A large one-topping on the house. Looks like the three of you need it.”

Lawrence glances over at Julie and Claire, frowning.

“We’ll take it,” Julie calls out. She looks at Claire. “What do you want? You’re the lady of the hour.”

Claire feels herself color. “Pepperoni, please. And thank you!”

“You heard the lady,” Julie calls out. The man nods and bustles off to the back. Lawrence sighs, turns around to face them. Rainwater pools in a puddle beneath him. Beneath all of them.

“We need to report this to the committee immediately,” he says, his voice strained. “They need to know there’s a renegade monster—”

“Audrey’s not a monster,” Julie says quickly. “She’s something else. The monsters are the ones who warned us about her.”

Claire looks over at Julie, shocked. “Really?”

Julie nods. “Well, they tried, anyway. They aren’t—they aren’t good at dealing with humans.”

“Well, we still need to tell the committee,” Lawrence says. Then he looks at Claire, his gaze piercing and comforting at the same time. “I’m very sorry that I was—incapacitated. By whatever she is. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’re all right.” He pauses. “I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Claire looks at him. When he’s not with Audrey his eyes are brighter, his expression kinder. And she knows what it’s like to be controlled by Audrey, doesn’t she? “Of course I do.”

Lawrence gives her a crooked, relieved smile.

“Go find us a table,” he says. “I’m still going to call the station to let them know what happened. They’ll be able to send out a notice to the committee.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Julie loops her arm in Claire’s, which makes Claire glow. They walk to their usual table, dripping a trail of water behind them. Claire hopes the manager won’t mind.

Something catches at the corner of her eye. She glances up.

Fear paralyzes her through to her core.

Julie tugs on her arm. “Claire, what is it, what’s wr—”

She falls silent, and Claire knows she sees her too. Audrey, sitting at a table by herself, sipping a Coke through a straw. Her dress throws off dots of light. A half-eaten salad has been pushed to the side, a napkin crumpled on top of it. She finally looks up, catches Claire’s eye. Claire swoons.

“Well,” Audrey says. “This is unexpected.”

The sound of her voice brings Claire back to the present. Anger rushes up through her system. “Why did you do that to me!” she shrieks, lunging at the table, not knowing what she plans to do. Audrey doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink. But Claire slams up against an invisible wall and lands sprawling on her back.

“Holy crap, are you okay?” Julie rushes to Claire and helps her sit up. Her touch is soft and warm, a respite against the harsh, crackling air.

Audrey doesn’t move from the table.

“Why’d you do it?” Claire can hardly breathe. “What’d I ever do to you?”

Audrey sighs, crosses one leg over the other.

“What’s going on here?” Lawrence’s voice booms out behind them. “Claire, are you—” He freezes.

Audrey tilts her head at Lawrence. “Hi, boyfriend,” she says.

Lawrence doesn’t move. Claire and Julie both watch him from their place on the floor. Claire’s breath is in her throat. She thinks about his blank expression in the car. His willingness to leave her to die in the car.

But then Lawrence shakes his head. “I’m—I’m taking you into custody.” His voice shakes, though, and Claire suspects he knows that’s an impossibility. “You did something to me. To us. I won’t let you do that to anyone else.”

“You were just supposed to watch,” Audrey says.

Claire grabs Julie’s hand without thinking. The air is still crackling. It reminds her of being trapped inside the car. Her heart beats too fast.

“What?” Lawrence says.

“The original trio, together at last.” Audrey gestures with her Coke at Claire, Julie, and Lawrence, each in turn.

Claire shivers. She draws her knees up to her chest, the water-soaked fabric of her dress tangling around her legs.

No, not her dress. Abigail’s dress.

“Yeah, I figured out all about that,” Julie snaps. “That’s why you made Lawrence bring that cane. And Claire wear this dress.”

“I don’t understand,” says Claire, feeling dazed. “What are you both talking about?”

“I don’t know.” Lawrence looks pale.

“I’m Javier,” Julie says. “You’re Abigail.” And then she points at Lawrence. “He’s Emmert.”

Claire stares at her. “Him?”

“Not like the Emmert a hundred years ago, that’s for sure.” Julie glares at Audrey. “No thanks to you.”

Audrey laughs. “Congratulations, Lawrence. You’re the first non-screw-up Emmert in years.”

Lawrence’s eyes narrow with anger, and he trembles in place.

Claire feels dizzy. Audrey was playing some kind of game with her, like all the games she played this summer—only so much more dangerous. Claire digs her hand into her forehead. She can feel the beginning of a migraine pounding beneath her skin.

Audrey brushes a strand of hair away from her face. She’s completely dry, her hair fluffed and styled, none of her makeup streaked from the rain. “Anyway. Sorry. Nothing personal, like I said.”

“Nothing personal?” Claire springs to her feet. Julie stands up with her, their hands connected. “You almost killed me.”

Audrey doesn’t say anything.

“Why?” Claire demands. The question cracks with tears. “Why would you do that to me?”

“The timelines,” Julie says.

Everything in the Pirate’s Den shuts down. The arcade cabinets fall dark and silent, and the overhead lights flutter away and are replaced by the dull yellow glow of the generators. Outside, the storm falls silent, the raindrops frozen on the windows.

When Claire glances back at the front counter, the cashier is frozen in place, his hand reaching toward a notepad on the counter.

She whips her head back, fear squeezing her throat shut.

“You were trying to disrupt the timelines,” Julie says, her voice echoing. “Aldraa told me.”

Audrey rolls her eyes. “Yes, Aldraa wasn’t happy about my plans. He and the rest of the xenade need Javier to be the town hero so he can go on to establish the treaties. It’s the only reason they get to live here, you know. The good people of Indianola would have killed them off otherwise. That’s another timeline.” Audrey gives a satisfied nod. “But Aldraa’s concerns weren’t my problem.”

“I don’t understand what’s going on.” Lawrence looks back at Julie. “Do you? Can someone please explain?”

Julie shakes her head. “That’s all I know.”

Claire shivers, from the cold, the rain, her own confusion. “Why did you want to kill me?” she says. “What do I have to do with timelines?”

“I keep telling you, it wasn’t personal. Changing the past is a tricky business. One I specialize in, but tricky.” Audrey tosses her hair over her shoulder. “You fit the right cosmic profile. The only cosmic profile, for this particular azojin.”

The last word hits Claire hard in the back of the head. She’s heard it before, in the rough hissing voices of the monsters.

Every azojin, something changes.

“The only way to change the past,” Audrey says, “is to re-create it in the present. Under the right circumstances, of course.” She smiles. “I had to shape you a bit. Remember that game on the beach?”

Claire feels dizzy.

“You did well with it, really. Picked it up like a natural.” Audrey sips her Coke. “‘The music of Indianola,’ that’s how you put it. Poetic.”

Claire gasps. “I never said that out loud!”

“Didn’t have to. I can see right through you.” Audrey grins. “Right through all of you. I’m operating on a different plane of existence.” She pauses, one hand on her hip. “But yes, the music of Indianola, that’s what all this was about. Changing the way those Indianolans of the past interacted with each other. That day on the beach was getting you ready. Wearing down the dimensional effluvium, so to speak. Cleaning you up for the azojin.”

Claire takes deep breaths. The frozen Pirate’s Den spins around her. She takes a step back, trying to get away from Audrey, and bangs up against one of the chairs. A hand on her arm. Julie. She pulls Claire in close, squeezes her.

“It’s okay,” she whispers, but Claire can’t take her eyes off Audrey, who looks the same as she always did: blond and beautiful and normal. But she’s not normal. She manipulated Claire somehow, twisted her own thoughts around inside of her. Claire trembles in Julie’s embrace.

“What else did you do to me?” she asks. “What about that maze game at your house? Was that cleaning me up too?”

Audrey grins, but before she can answer, Julie interrupts.

“You were hiding her,” Julie says. “From the monsters. They were trying to protect her.”

Audrey nods. “Afraid so.” She tilts her head and studies Julie for a moment. Claire wishes she would stop. The way she looks at Julie makes Claire think Julie’s in danger. “You went snooping too. Found the family I created. Easier to build human models for when I need them than borrow a real family, you know?”

Claire thinks of Audrey’s mother and father and brother, how blank they always seemed.

“I suppose I can thank the xenade for sending you my way. I underestimated them. I didn’t think they’d go to a human for help.” She shrugs. “They get desperate, those lost souls.” Audrey stands and faces toward the exit.

“Stop right there.” Lawrence’s voice comes as a shock. Claire looks over at him; he’s collapsed in a nearby booth, and he looks pale. “You put three people in danger, including an officer of the law. You don’t get to just walk out of here.”

Audrey turns her gaze to him. He seems to shrink back.

“First of all,” she says, “you know perfectly well that I will in fact just walk out of here.” She gives a dazzling smile. “And secondly, you’re not in danger anymore. You fought against the constraints I put on you. Didn’t call me down when Julie started swinging the cane.” She shrugs. “For what it’s worth, I’m impressed. With all of you, if I’m being honest.”

Lawrence gapes at her.

“I’m leaving your dimension tonight. I just need to collect my last payment.”

Claire feels like she’s been punched in the face.

“Payment?” Julie repeats. Her voice sounds covered over by waves of static. “Someone paid you to kill Claire?”

“Yes. I was called here by a human. One of the xenade told her about me—a nasty business, if I understand correctly. She kept the poor thing chained up in her garage until it talked.” She cocks her head. “All she said was that she was tired of this reality and wanted me to sculpt a new one.”

Claire feels like she might throw up. “A new reality,” she gasps. “One where I’m dead.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Audrey’s face twists into a parody of sympathy. “Your death wasn’t the goal. It was the means to an end. It’s just poor luck that you turned out to be so cosmically significant.”

“What was the goal?” Julie demands. Claire is grateful, because she can’t bring herself to speak.

“She wanted a reality where Javier Alvarez never saved Abigail Sudek, so I tried to set it up for her.” Audrey’s features shift around, become sharper, harsher, less human. Claire’s stomach churns, and Lawrence gives a strangled gasp.

“Ah well.” Audrey sighs. “I’ll admit my heart wasn’t completely in this one. Times have been tough, and I was sick of going hungry. So I took what I could get.”

“Are you going to try to kill me again?” Claire’s blood rushes. “Or have Lawrence kill me?”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Lawrence says.

But Audrey just shrugs. “The azojin’s passed.”

That word again.

“Won’t work again for another hundred years. Everything had to fit together just so, and you lot screwed it up.” She jabs her thumb at Julie. “Well, you and the xenade. That’s really my employer’s fault, though. She killed the one who talked, tossed the body out to sea. Can you imagine? The xenade were able to find it and draw out some of its history, so they knew that I was coming, but never who hired me.” She picks up the Coke and takes one long drink. “Well, I’ll be on my way. I’ll miss these things, though. No other dimension has anything quite like them.” She sets the can back down on the table and moves toward the door. Claire feels a rise of panic—she still doesn’t know who wanted to kill her.

“Wait!”

Audrey stops and looks over at Claire. Her features have distorted even further, and her hair has turned to feathers the color of starlight.

“Who was it?” Claire spits out, choking back a wave of nausea. “Who wanted to change reality? Who wanted to erase me?”

Audrey hesitates. Something glows behind her eyes that’s not human but isn’t monstrous, either. A little lick of white flame.

“Tell me,” Claire says, drawing up her strength.

Audrey looks at the door, where unmoving red raindrops decorate the glass. She turns back to Claire. The flame in her eyes brightens.

The air crackles. All the arcade cabinets turn back on at once. The raindrops turn to tributaries.

“I was on my way to collect my last payment,” she says. “But I suppose I can let you speak to her first. It’s only fair.”

“Who is it?” Claire shrieks.

“Myrtle Sudek,” Audrey says. “Your grammy.”

She gives a hard smile, and then she blinks out like a broken lightbulb, a whiff of ozone in her wake.

The house is dark when Claire gets home. The storm has moved on, but night’s fallen, a seamless transition of darkness.

Julie called Frank, the manager at the video store, and convinced him to let them borrow his car. Lawrence argued half-heartedly that they go to the sheriff’s station, but he relented when Claire refused. She won’t talk to anyone but Grammy. And the police aren’t going to be able to help them anyway.

She wants answers. An explanation.

Frank sits at the curb, his car engine idling. Julie’s a few feet away, standing with her hands on her hips. Lawrence is there too, scowling in his sopping wet suit and cape.

“I don’t like this,” he says. “We have no idea how dangerous she is.”

Claire draws up her spine. “I told you, I don’t want you there.”

“I’m just worried about your safety. If what Audrey said is true—”

“I need to talk to my grandmother alone.” Claire takes a deep breath. “Please, Lawrence. Let me do this alone.”

He studies her, disapproval on his features.

Claire turns and looks at Grammy’s house. Her clothes and hair are still wet, and a film of salt clings to her skin. Remnants of what happened.

Of what Grammy wanted to happen.

No—Claire can’t think like that. She doesn’t know for sure. Maybe Audrey is lying.

But at the same time, Claire keeps thinking of looks that passed between Grammy and Audrey, of the way Grammy forced her and Audrey together. She thinks about the little white pillbox containing nothing but aspirin. She thinks about Grammy’s illness, the call to the doctor that proved she’d never gotten a diagnosis.

Payment, Claire thinks.

“Are you sure?” Julie whispers. “About going in there alone?”

Claire looks over at her. Julie gives a brave smile. Even with wet hair she’s beautiful. As beautiful as Josh. More so.

“I think it’ll be better if I do,” Claire says.

“If there’s any trouble at all,” Lawrence says, shifting his weight, “you scream, do you understand?”

Claire nods. Julie says nothing, just takes Claire’s hand. “I’ll be out here,” she says. “We both will. And if you aren’t out in five minutes—”

“Fifteen minutes,” Claire says. “Give me a chance to talk to her first.”

“Ten minutes.” Julie draws Claire into a hug. Claire buries her face in Julie’s neck, breathes in the scent of rainwater and lavender. She never wants to let go.

She lets go.

“Ten minutes,” Claire says.

Lawrence sighs, and Claire knows she probably has closer to five before he comes into the house with his badge and his gun, which he had insisted on picking up from his house before they came here. She takes a deep breath, turns around, cuts across the damp yard.

She goes inside.

Even though all the lights are out, the sound of the TV trickles in from the living room, the raucous laughter of some late-night talk show. Claire’s heartbeat quickens. For a moment she leans up against the doorway, struggling to breathe.

She’s my grandma. She wouldn’t try to kill me. Would she?

Slowly, Claire moves into the living room. Grammy sits in the usual spot, although an ashtray rests on the table beside her, something Claire has never seen before. A trio of cigarette butts wallows in the ash.

Claire feels a low coil of dread at the sight of that ashtray.

“You’re home.” Grammy doesn’t look away from the TV.

“Yes.” Claire wants to be wrong. She wants Audrey to be lying. “Do you want to know how it went?”

Over on the TV, Jay Leno says something to make the audience roar with laughter. Claire shifts her weight. Please answer, she thinks. Please please make none of this be true.

Grammy keeps staring at the TV.

And then Claire sees something, a photograph lying on the end table. A Polaroid. It’s facedown. With a trembling hand, Claire flips it over.

Neither she nor Audrey Duchesne is there. Claire has been replaced by the woman whose photograph she found in Grammy’s closet. Abigail Sudek. It’s not a costume. There’s no trace of Claire in that photograph.

Audrey is a beam of silver light, bright feathers, a face with sharp predatory features.

Claire cries out. Tears brim against her lashes. She claps her hand over her mouth.

Grammy looks up. She seems tired. She looks at Claire, looks at the photograph in Claire’s hand.

Then she turns back to the TV.

Claire throws the Polaroid back on the table. She can’t stop trembling.

“If you won’t ask,” she says, “then I’ll tell you. Audrey’s plan didn’t work. Julie Alvarez saved me. And her cousin Lawrence.” She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m guessing that’s not what you wanted to happen.”

Grammy picks up the remote and points it at the TV. Then, just as a commercial comes on, she switches it off.

“No,” Grammy says. “That’s not what I wanted to happen.”

A sharp, violent paint shoots through the center of Claire’s heart. She collapses down on the chair beside Grammy and stares at the blank TV.

It’s real. Audrey wasn’t lying.

A cold fear curls up inside her, weighted down with the heaviness of betrayal. She thinks of Julie and Lawrence standing out in the rain-soaked grass, listening for a scream, ready to come save her.

“How could you?” Claire whispers. Tears streak down her face. “I would have died, I would have—”

“Sometimes we have to make sacrifices.” Grammy stands up abruptly. She walks over to the bookshelf full of old encyclopedias and pulls out the volumes L through P. Behind them sits the old photograph of Julie’s house. She pulls it out and stares down at it. “We lost this eighty years ago,” she says, and holds it up for Claire to see.

Claire lets out a loud, gasping sob.

“Oh, it was lovely. My mother used to tell me all about it. The big atrium full of flowers and sunlight, the gardens…” Grammy’s voice trails off, and she wipes a tear away from one of her eyes. Claire shakes. She almost died and her grandmother is crying over a house.

“All my life I thought it was just bad luck. Bad history. Unchangeable,” Grammy goes on, still staring down at the photo. “But then a monster came to the backyard last winter, a talking monster. It said something about timelines, that they could be changed. Babbling, you know, the way they do. I took it for nonsense at first. But the idea wouldn’t leave me alone.” Grammy lifts her head. Her eyes shine with tears. “A hundred years ago Abigail Sudek was saved from drowning by Javier Alvarez. It destroyed this family. And you just let it happen again.”

She throws the framed picture against the wall, a sudden violent movement. Claire recoils into her chair. She wonders if she should scream, if she should run out to Julie. But Grammy just shuffles back over to her chair and sits down.

“I spent weeks forcing that monster to tell me how to change the timelines,” Grammy says in a calm, cold voice.

Revulsion crawls up the back of Claire’s throat, thinking of Audrey’s words at the Pirate’s Den, about Grammy keeping a monster tied up in the garage and then killing it. She can’t imagine it, but when she peers up at Grammy she can see a fire burning inside of her, so white hot, it’s terrifying. Maybe Grammy was that desperate after all.

“It was hard work, but eventually it told me what I wanted: how the timelines worked, how to call that stupid alien here, how to make a deal she’d accept.” Grammy looks over at Claire, and Claire freezes. It’s like being caught in the stare of a poisonous snake.

“A Sudek, an Alvarez, and an Emmert,” Grammy says in a singsong voice. “Tell me, how much of the story do you know?”

The question is sharp, scolding. Claire trembles. “Enough,” she says.

“Oh, no, not a chance. Well, no harm in telling you now. It’s too late anyway.” Grammy stares at the TV. “Henry was supposed to help Abigail, Charlotte, and Javier get on a shipping boat. They were going to start their lives over down in Manzanillo, where Javier was born. But when Henry learned how much Abigail was worth, he kidnapped her instead, right from her bedroom. He figured he could get money from her husband and from Javier, who he’d blackmail about the affair—it would be worth so much more than whatever measly amount Javier had paid him for the tickets! But then the hurricane came through. Javier saved Abigail, and Henry died a crook.” Grammy laughs and stares up at the ceiling. “It turns out Henry Emmert had done that sort of thing before, up in Kansas. Kidnapping. He was a wanted man. The cops gave Javier a big reward for turning in Henry Emmert dead. They did that sort of thing in those days.”

“Why wasn’t that in the paper?” Claire asks before she can stop herself.

Grammy’s face turns cold. “You went investigating all of this?”

Claire tightens her fingers on the chair. She glances toward the hallway. She can run faster than Grammy. She can get out. Lawrence is waiting on the other side of the door.

“Of course you did. Your mother always said you were inquisitive. I don’t know why it wasn’t in the papers. The monsters coming through, it changed so much, it made people confused. That’s what they do, you know. Confuse us.”

Claire doesn’t say anything. The monsters do confuse the people of the town. It’s hard to look at them straight on. They erase your memory of them when you pass the city limits. But they’re not the real danger. They never have been.

“Anyway, afterward, Javier became Indianola’s big hero, people congratulating him everywhere he went.” Grammy’s eyes glitter. “That was the start of it. When the monsters started causing problems, where did the town turn? Who did they beg to help them?”

Claire doesn’t say anything.

“Javier Alvarez.” Grammy spits the name. “He sat down with the monsters, orchestrated the treaties. Gave them your great-great-grandfather’s land. And I told you what happened then. Without the oilfields, the money dried up.”

“That’s not Javier’s fault,” Claire says in a trembling voice.

Rage flashes across Grammy’s face. “Of course it is!” she bellows. “By then he and Abigail decided eloping was too risky, and he opened that goddamned hotel. Which did shockingly well for a nowhere place like Indianola.”

Claire narrows her eyes.

Grammy makes a huff of annoyance. “I have to spell it out for you? Javier made some kind of deal with those monsters. Wouldn’t surprise me a bit if he did a little timeline rearranging himself. He made the money while our family lost it. And we switched places.”

Grammy looks over at Claire with her fierce glittering eyes. Claire can’t breathe.

“Why wouldn’t Javier have rearranged the timelines so he and Abigail could be together?” Claire demands. “He didn’t steal our family’s money! It was just stupid luck!”

“Don’t be a fool,” Grammy mutters.

“You’re the fool!” Anger surges up inside Claire’s chest. “You would have killed me so you could—what? Reverse what happened? You think someone else wouldn’t have given the Sudek land to the monsters?”

Grammy glowers, curling her fingers in. “Javier wanted to punish Gregory Garner,” she snarls.

“Even so! That’s worth killing me over?” Claire trembles. “You’re sick. It’s not like you could live your whole life over again—”

“I wouldn’t have to,” Gammy says, eyes flashing. “It would be my life. Don’t you understand? At this point my life is nothing but memories. I wanted to die with good ones.”

Claire stares at her. She’s still shaking. Memories. “You wouldn’t remember me,” she says. “Or what you did to me.”

There’s a long and weighted silence.

“It was a sacrifice,” Grammy says. “A small loss to compensate for the larger one a hundred years ago.”

Claire lets out a shout of fear, of frustration.

“Don’t be like that,” Grammy snaps. “You weren’t the only sacrifice. That alien wouldn’t do it for free, you know. She was taking days of my life away from me. The energy that lets us live. It’s what she eats, apparently.” Grammy gives a harsh laugh. “She’s going to kill me too, you understand, probably after you leave. Only before, I was to die with the memories of my new life, the life Javier Alvarez stole from me. I was to die in our ancestral home. Now I don’t even get that.”

Claire stares at her in horror, tears streaming down her face.

“And think of what it would have done for the rest of the family!” Grammy says. “Your mother and aunt would have grown up in splendor—”

A fresh wave of terror washes over Claire. “Did Mom know?”

“What?”

“Is that why she sent me here? Did she know?”

Grammy frowns and settles back in her chair. “No,” she says. “I knew she wouldn’t understand. She’s never been proud of the Sudek name.”

Claire’s sobs turn to the laughter of relief.

“You’re just like her,” Grammy whispers. “You don’t understand either. It’s lost now. Everything. This family will continue to slide into decline.”

Claire stands up. She wipes the tears from her eyes, lets the last choking sobs die away. The house is suffocating her. She doesn’t want to breathe the same still air as Grammy anymore. It’s bad enough they share the same genes.

“The monsters aren’t the monsters here,” she says.

Grammy looks away.

“Audrey’s coming, you know,” Claire says. “To collect the rest of her payment.”

“I know.” Grammy taps her fingers against the arm of the chair. She never looks at Claire, just keeps staring at the wall, the dim lamp light flowing around her. “But don’t play the hero, Claire. You won’t be able to stop her.”

Claire feels shaky. Her heart pounds in her ears.

“Go,” Grammy says. “There’s nothing here for you anymore.”

Claire is crying again, and she doesn’t know what she’s crying for, if it’s the horror of what Grammy did to her, or if it’s the strange pain of Grammy’s resignation.

“Go!” Grammy shouts. “I don’t want you here when the alien arrives.”

Claire stumbles out of the living room, into the hallway. Grammy keeps staring at the wall. The front door is a long way away. Claire turns. She walks toward it.

And then she runs toward it.

And then she bursts out into the damp night.

Julie paces back and forth across the driveway, her hands jammed in her pockets. Lawrence is standing alert in the yard and he strides forward when he sees Claire and calls out her name. “Claire! Are you all right?”

Claire nods. Julie stops pacing and lifts her head. Claire runs toward her, weeping so hard, the world looks as if it’s underwater.

Julie doesn’t say anything, only pulls her into an embrace. Claire presses up against her and cries. They stay like that for a long time, wrapped up together in the middle of the yard while the stars twinkle on unchanged above them.

Grammy’s house stays dark. She never comes outside. There’s no sign of Audrey, either. At least not yet.

“She wanted to kill me,” Claire whispers. “All so she could be
rich.”

Claire tells the rest of the story, in fits and starts. Saying it aloud cements the hideousness of it all; she thinks back to the suffocating light of Audrey’s car, the rain pounding against the roof, the waves washing up on shore.

Her own grandmother did that. She sacrificed herself, just to let Claire die.

“The monsters told me to save you, you know,” Julie says suddenly. “After you—they told me I had to save you.”

Claire peels away from Julie and blinks up at her through the veil of her tears. “They said if I saved you, then I saved Indianola.” Julie runs her thumb down the side of Claire’s face. “I think if her plan had worked, Mrs. Sudek wouldn’t have gotten rich. I think the whole town would have just been undone.”

Claire wonders what Grammy would say to that, if she’d believe it. Or if she’d ignore it all to restore the family name, to die with a lifetime’s worth of new memories.

“C’mon,” Julie says. “We should get you out of here. You can stay at my place. My parents won’t mind.”

She loops her arm around Claire’s shoulder and pulls her close. They walk toward the driveway a few paces before Julie stops, sucking in her breath through her teeth.

Claire looks up and there’s Audrey, illuminated by the yellow glow of the car’s headlights. The world around them has frozen again. Audrey glides forward, her strange, inhuman bones shadowing beneath her skin.

“I’m not here for you,” she says to Claire.

And then she brushes past Claire and Julie.

Claire turns around, her breath in her throat. Audrey steps onto the front porch of Grammy’s house and pulls the door open and steps inside.

For a moment the world seems to hold its breath, and then the light burning in the living room window blinks out.

A blast of sea breeze blows Claire’s hair into her face. She turns to Julie, who pulls her arm a little tighter around Claire’s waist. “Are you okay?” she whispers as the wind picks up, bringing with it a strange metallic scent that Claire knows, somehow, is connected to Audrey.

She nods numbly. She doesn’t know what to say.

Together they walk away from Grammy’s house, toward the end of the driveway, into the future.