moment, Nightmare shifts closer—he’s laughing, riveted on Moss’s face—and her fingers land to rest on my ear.
There’s a surge of power, and suddenly I can move. Gasping, I shoot up to a sitting position, and Nightmare’s head whips around. He hisses in shock. Before he can react, I reach out and shove him with everything I have.
The monster flies back and crashes against the table of weapons and toys with a loud shattering sound. I sway for a moment before I fall. My head bounces painfully on the edge of the chair, but half of me remains on the table.
“Elizabeth … ” Moss gasps, warning me. I can’t see her, but I can hear her wheezing and swallowing heaps of air somewhere.
Nightmare is already stirring, muttering under his breath. He braces himself against the wall, swiveling around to find me with his eyes. They speak murder.
Just a little more strength. That’s all I need to end this.
Nightmare stumbles to his feet again, blood running down the side of his face from a cut on his temple. The sight of it gives me a fresh surge of resolution; he’s not indestructible. I can kill him—I can survive this. He glares at me through the crimson stream and wipes it away with the back of his hand. “You’re going to die slowly,” he promises in a hiss, stalking back toward the table.
“Moss,” I rasp, my eyes rolling painfully as I search the room for her. “Moss!” I need her to give me power again. But I can’t find her. Nightmare laughs at me, drawing even nearer. He kicks the chair out of the way.
“You didn’t burn Landon,” I say in a wild attempt to gain more time. I don’t know why this is what I choose to say, but it feels so important.
Nightmare pauses and does his head-cocking thing again. “And why would you say that?” He sounds genuinely interested. He’s stopped smiling, and I don’t think he’s even aware of it.
I swallow. Pause. Purse my lips. Then, in a voice that shakes like a frightened child’s, I tell him, “Because someone found his body.”
The paintings, the dreams, the memories. All of it led to this. I may not remember a life before being Elizabeth, I may not recall the illusion or who I was, but I do remember one moment like it’s my own—when Rebecca cradled her brother in her arms, screaming over his lifeless body. Never again would she hear his laugh. Never again would he say her name. Never again would they dance in the woods.
Nightmare is speaking, but his voice is a senseless hum, the shack and my own pain a blur.
Because now, finally, I’m remembering.
Rebecca wakes up in her tiny room, and the first thing she notices is the silence. She has no idea how she knows, but something is wrong. There’s a taste on her tongue—something bitter and sweet, like salt and strawberries.
Fear.
She whips the blankets aside, her feet touching the chilled floor. She casts about for some pants and settles on a wrinkled pair of jeans tossed carelessly over a chair. Yanking them on, Rebecca hurries out the door. The house is so small that she knows in an instant she’s alone. The kitchen is dark, the bedroom doors all open and mournful. Where are Mom and Landon?
She whirls and runs to the front door, bare feet slapping against the tiles. Just as the girl is reaching for the knob, though, Fear bursts into the space between her and the outside. She screams, leaping back.
“Rebecca, you can’t go out there.” Looking panicked, Fear grabs her wrists and stops her when she recovers and grabs for the knob again.
“I have to,” she says frantically, trying to shove him out of the way. He flattens his back to the door. Uttering a half-terrified, half-infuriated cry, Rebecca wrenches herself free of his hold.
“Wait—” Fear attempts to seize her shoulders, but she moves more quickly this time. “Rebecca, your brother—”
“Leave me alone!” she screeches up at him. “You’ve answered your summons! We’re done!”
Hurt flashes across his beautiful face, but she doesn’t care. There’s a window in her room that she can fit through, so Rebecca turns her back to him and hurries away, her mind filled with her mother and Landon. Fear appears at her side again. “You can’t help Landon!” he insists shakily. “But your mother is alive, so please, let me take you away from here.” She gives him a look of loathing as his words roll off of her like dew on a leaf. Undeterred, Fear grabs her arm and shoves her against a wall. “You don’t understand, Rebecca. I can’t answer Landon’s summons because—”
Taking him off guard, the girl brings a knee up and slams it in the tenderest of places. Bending, Fear wheezes. As soon as his cool hands are gone she rushes away once again. This time he lets her go.
Scrambling through the window, Rebecca falls to the ground and glances around wildly. It’s a cloudy morning, and there’s no sign of Mom in the garden or Landon in the yard with one of his books. The ocean roars, oblivious to her world cracking. Something urges her toward the woods. She doesn’t question the instinct. Rebecca sprints through the trees, full speed. Her terror is so strong that it’s a choking sensation. For the first time in her life she can’t breathe.
“Landon! Mom!” She starts screaming their names, over and over. Her shirt snags on something and she hears it tear, doesn’t pay it any mind. She senses Emotions and Elements running from this place as quickly as they can. Why? Why? She’s too frantic to pause and find out.
The girl trips over something. Something solid and warm. She sprawls on the ground, getting a mouthful of dirt. She hacks, shuddering. After a moment, she struggles back up to her feet, glancing back to see what tripped her.
The world stops spinning.
The trees darken.
Her veins pound.
Landon lies on his back, his beautiful eyes staring up at the sky. Glassy. His blood sinks into the soil around him. His body, his achingly familiar body … it’s ruined. She stares down at him, and abruptly she feels a laugh bubbling up inside of her. Vicious Fear and his games. How could anyone make an illusion this cruel? She kneels down beside this fake boy, poking him. “This isn’t funny, Fear!” she calls out, clutching her middle as hysterics overtake her. There’s a loud ringing in her ears.
A buzzing overhead. A fly lands on Landon’s blood-flecked arm.
For some reason, it’s the sight of the fly that breaks her.
No, no, no, no. Screaming, Rebecca crawls closer to him, pulling his head onto her lap. She rocks Landon back and forth, sobbing. Because she can’t deny it now. He’s dead. She starts to whimper. Back and forth, back and forth. “No. Come back, please, please,” she begs, a broken whisper. His blood soaks her jeans. “Landon … ”
He doesn’t answer.
Her soul shatters, and her heart stops beating. She clutches his face until her knuckles turn white. “Wake up, Landon. Wake up now!” She starts to pound his chest furiously. It’s the first time she’s ever struck him. Realizing this, Rebecca stops. She holds his cold body close again, shaking her head.
Her power leaks out, affecting the land, and the skies open up and start to sob with her. Her hair plasters to her head and her clothes grow heavy with water. They sit there together in the mud, the girl and her brother. Trembling, she starts to tell him a story. She bends over him to shield him from the wetness, and her hair trails through the mud.
“They all lived happily ever after … ” Rebecca says in his ear, kissing his cheek. His eyes are closed now—she must have shut them at some point. Rain falls harder now, soaking her to the skin, washing all the blood away.
Thunder shakes the ground, but she hardly notices.
“We need to go.”
The voice makes her jump, and Rebecca looks up dully. “Oh. It’s you,” she mumbles
