WE LEAVE MADELYN Fournier and Oster still deep in conversation. Veronica tugs at my hand. Behind her eyes, I see her need for Eden to move on, move past. She won’t say it out loud. She has that much scant wisdom in her too-young bones, at least.
Girls like Veronica have only ever known infatuation and affection. Not love. The real love that lives not in your heart but in your gut and your lungs and your throat. Every part of your body wrenched violently by the impulse—the need—to be with one person. It’s an ugly, glorious thing. That’s how you know it’s real.
“I know how hard this must be,” Veronica says.
I’ll give her this: She really is worried for Eden. Even if she’s entirely wrong about what Eden needs. Eden doesn’t need protecting, walling off from all the cruel things of life. She’s met them already. They’re part of her. It’s too late to be soft; she needs to be strong. And she will be. I like her, my Eden. I like her more the longer I live in her skin, the edges of her soul bleeding into mine. She’s kind, which I’ve never been. But she hides the best parts of herself, afraid to be seen, to take up space.
We would be good for each other, I think, if I let her rush into me, let myself rush into her. But we can’t survive like that. It’s foolish to think I could reclaim the life stolen from me.
All I have left to claim is death, but it will be on my terms.
In Westmore, Ruth and Zoya are sitting on the couch. Zoya is folded up like some exotic insect. I picture her pinned to a card—and a ripple of guilt goes through me. Self-reproach.
Eden’s good influence. I stiffen, mapping the edges of myself. Still whole. Still me. Eden is still only the shadows at the back of my mind.
“So how did it go?” Ruth asks, and another image flashes through my mind—a memory this time. Ruth throwing a piece of popcorn, catching it in her mouth. Ten in a row. You owe me a kiss.
I jerk, startled. I didn’t know Ruth and Eden were ever together. But Ruth left her. Was with a boy until only a little while ago.
I told Grace that if she ever left me for a man, it would be the worst thing she could do to me. A humiliation and a betrayal. But Eden doesn’t seem to care about that part.
Veronica is explaining the agreement. I stand like a lump, not sure what expression Eden should wear right now. Weary defeat, maybe. I glance at the window. A long time to sundown, and I’ll need the darkness for what I want to do.
“I’m going to bed,” I declare.
“Wait,” Veronica says, snatching at my hand. “I don’t think you should be alone right now.”
I’m not. Eden is plenty of company. But I only split my mouth into a tired smile. “I know you’re trying to take care of me, Veronica. But I feel like shit, and I just want to hide under the covers until this all goes away.”
“You said you wanted to spend one last night with us,” Veronica reminds me.
“Well, I lied,” I snap.
Veronica flinches. Zoya shifts, concern knitting her brow.
“I know this sucks, but you don’t have to be such a bitch to us about it,” Ruth says. “We’re just trying to help you.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Maeve. I’ve never wanted to hurt you.”
“It was an accident.”
“It’s over, Maeve. I love you, but we’re over.”
I rock back on my heels, the past a merciless echo in my ears. A snarl twists my lips.
“But you’re not helping me, are you? You don’t want to. You just want me to get over it and move on and stop being a problem. Because you don’t want a sad, angry friend. You want the Eden that listens and gives you presents and does all the dishes and cuts your hair and does whatever makes you happy. The one that never complains about her own life. You really thought you were friends? None of you had any idea what she was going through. You only liked her because she was whatever you needed.”
The words come in a torrent, the world tilting around me, and only when the shocked silence solidifies do I realize what I’ve said.
In the quiet, a drop of water slides down to the tip of my finger and falls glittering to the floor. Veronica steps back, eyes wide in horror. “You’re . . .”
“Maeve,” Zoya breathes, unfolding herself.
The river roars around me. I run my hands through my hair. They come away wet, the water tinted red with blood. I grind my back teeth together. I sink deeper into Eden, stealing pieces of her to keep myself afloat. My eyes snap to Veronica, her weight canted toward the door.
“Don’t,” I say, my voice a croak of sound. “No one is going anywhere.”
“Like hell. I’m getting Oster,” Veronica says. She turns and strides toward the door.
I’m on her in a flash. I shove her hard between the shoulder blades, making her stumble forward, then grab her arm to spin her around, pushing her up against the wall with my arm at her throat.
“Get off her!” Ruth yells. She takes hold of my arm and tries to pull me off her friend, but she doesn’t want to hurt Eden. And pain doesn’t bother me. Not after decades of the river’s relentless violence.
“Let Eden go,” Veronica says, her voice strained as my forearm presses against her throat.
“I have no desire to hurt Eden,” I tell her. I let Ruth pull me away at last, falling back as Veronica coughs and rubs her throat. I keep myself between them and the door. Zoya rushes to Veronica’s side, checking on her. Ruth stares at me, her hands balled into ineffectual fists. “What are you going to do, Ruth? Attack me? Pummel those fists into Eden’s ribs and feel them splinter?”
Ruth’s jaw tenses. “What do you want with her?”
One could almost be fooled into thinking they really care about her.
“A place to be a while, that’s all,” I say. “I don’t want to hurt any of you. All I want is to get Grace back. And you’re going to help me.”
“Why would we do that?” Zoya asks. She has her arm around Veronica, both protective and restraining. Veronica’s eyes are a storm of anger and distress. She really doesn’t like not being in control. She’ll have to get used to it.
“I told you I don’t want to hurt Eden. But I can,” I say. I lift a hand. Water spills across my palm, brackish and muddy, dripping to the floor. I hear the roar of the river. And this time, I let it come. Let it rise. Feel the current nip and tug at me as my mouth fills with the taste of it. I cough, choke.
“Stop,” Veronica says, wrenching free of Zoya. “Stop, you’re killing her!”
I gasp, dragging myself back to the surface. I spit out a glob of silt and roll my neck, feeling my bones pop and resettle. “Do what I tell you, and Eden gets out of this unharmed. Maybe a little damp,” I say steadily. I didn’t plan on this, but maybe it’s for the best. There’s no way I’m going to make it through a full day of playing nice with these vapid children.
“You b—” Ruth starts, but Veronica cuts her off.
“Do you swear it?” she demands.
“Cross my heart and hope to die,” I tell her mirthlessly. “Help me, and by the morning you’ll have Eden back safe and sound.”
“Then what do you want?” she asks, her anger incandescent and irrelevant.
“I told you. I want Grace back. And you’re going to bring her to me,” I say. I spread my hands. “I’m not an evil person. I’m not a monster. I don’t want anyone to get hurt. I just want things back the way they’re supposed to be.”
“You want us to bring Delphine to you?” Zoya asks. “Then what? You’re not going to . . . to drown her or something?”
I shake my head. “That won’t be necessary.” The world has enough dead girls in it already. I’ll spare Eden and Delphine if I can.
But if I have to drown them to get my Grace back, I won’t hesitate.
“I told you. I don’t want to hurt anyone. You bring Del to the river, Grace and I leave. Del and Eden are safe and whole and everyone goes home happy.”
“And what about you and Grace? You go back to the river?” Ruth says doubtfully. “You’d really be willing to do that?”
“All I want is Grace,” I tell her. I laugh a little. “You don’t understand. You couldn’t. The river doesn’t matter. We’ll be together.”
We will never have the bright forever the world owes us.
I will take the dark eternity in its place.