Long Lost, стр. 48
Fiona’s mind flew to Arden once more. I hope the Searcher finds you.
Her sister hadn’t just let her go. She had wished her gone.
The pain in Fiona’s chest didn’t just come from the lack of air anymore.
As the water closed over her, Fiona remembered sinking through the blue depths of that water-park pool, years ago. The pool that Arden had told her was safe.
No one was here to pull her out this time.
Evelyn was right. No one would find her. Not until it was too late.
Maybe not even then.
So the warm hands grabbing her didn’t make sense.
She had to be hallucinating. Her air-starved brain was telling lies. But the hands kept pulling. Something—the sole of a shoe—kicked her in the side. The water was sloshing crazily, and light was coming from somewhere . . . not otherworldly, end-of-a-long-dark-tunnel light, but yellow electric light from a hanging bulb.
“Get up!” shouted Arden’s voice. “Come on, Fiona!”
Fiona blinked. Through the water in her eyes, she could just make out her sister’s face. Behind her, in the dark water, something else turned and thrashed, sending waves sloshing over the tank’s side.
“Climb on my leg and I’ll boost you over!” Arden commanded.
Fiona set a foot on Arden’s knee, hauling her exhausted body onto the cistern wall.
“Now help me up!” shouted Arden.
Fiona squirmed around, her waist still balanced on the rim of the cistern, and reached down with her cold, wet hands.
Arden grabbed on. With a graceful jump, she swung one leg sideways, hooking a foot over the wall. Fiona’s feet thumped to the floor. A second later, Arden’s did too.
Near their soggy shoes, a curly brown dog paced frantically, eyes fixed on the top of the cistern. He let out a panicked whine.
“Hey,” said Arden, crouching beside the spot where Fiona had dropped, gasping. “Are you okay? Can you breathe?”
Fiona nodded.
She stared past Arden, breathing hard, as something emerged from the cistern. A girl with fog-pale skin, a black cloak, and trailing dark hair clasped the cistern’s side. A second later, another girl lunged up beside her, half hauling, half shoving the first girl over.
Pixie yipped.
“Go on, Evelyn!” Margaret’s voice commanded. “Climb out!”
“You don’t need to rescue me, you little idiot!” Evelyn jumped to the basement floor, long black cloak splaying like a puddle around her. Fiona and Arden scuttled backward.
“You’re too late,” said Evelyn. “Much too late.”
Margaret, with her soaked dress and lank hair, slid down to the floor. “I know that, Evelyn.” Her voice was smaller than her sister’s, but clear enough to ring across the stony basement. “I know I’m too late. That doesn’t mean . . . it doesn’t mean I can’t try.”
Arden put one protective arm in front of Fiona. “What’s going on?” she whispered. “Who are these girls?”
“They used to live here,” Fiona whispered back. “A long time ago.”
Arden didn’t ask anything else. But her body stiffened like a stretched string, ready to fly.
Evelyn, in her trailing black cloak, stared through the light at Margaret. Her hollow eyes were unreadable. Pixie quivered beside her, glancing desperately back and forth between his two girls.
“You climbed into the cistern,” Evelyn said at last. “I thought you’d be too afraid. Like always.”
“I was afraid,” Margaret whispered. “But I did it.”
“And you tried to swim in that part of the river,” Evelyn added, after a long beat.
“Of course I did, Evelyn. I tried and tried. I wouldn’t ever have stopped, but the branches—” She broke off, voice choking. “I tried.”
Pixie nudged her hand with his nose.
“I didn’t see you fall, Evelyn.” Margaret’s whisper was ragged now. “So I thought . . . or I wanted to think . . . that something else could have happened. That you had just . . . gone away.” She paused, and Pixie nudged her hand again. “Because then maybe you would come back.”
Evelyn didn’t speak.
Margaret seemed to steel herself. She squared her shoulders, her pale shape shifting under the gold electric light. “It wasn’t a lie, Evelyn.” She stepped toward her sister. “It wasn’t. It was just the story I had to tell myself.”
Evelyn didn’t move. Pixie, Fiona, and Arden all kept silent, watching, waiting.
“The story didn’t even change anything,” Margaret went on. “Everyone blamed me anyway. And I blamed myself.” She spread her hands. “For the rest of my life, I was—I was just your sister. I was the sister of that girl who disappeared.”
“So you felt guilty,” Evelyn said flatly. Softly. “You should have.”
“But that isn’t it.” Margaret spread her hands. “Feeling guilty was nothing compared to how . . . how much . . .” Her voice broke into whispered fragments. “How much I missed you.” She took a tiny step forward. “I missed you so much, Evelyn. I missed you all this time.”
Evelyn kept still, letting her sister finish, her hollow eyes fixed hard on Margaret’s face.
For a moment, everything was quiet. Fiona could feel the droplets of water trailing from her hair down the back of her neck. She could feel Arden breathing beside her.
At last Margaret reached into the pocket of her skirt. She pulled out the mother-of-pearl-handled knife.
Evelyn glanced at it. She let out a tiny sound, something closer to a laugh than anything else. “You want to give back what you stole from me?” The words were sharp. Their tone wasn’t. “It’s too late for that too.”
Margaret waited, holding out the knife. “I know,” she said.
When Evelyn still didn’t take it, Margaret turned the knife around. She pulled the blade out of its handle. Then she grasped a hank of her long hair, pulled it tight, and sawed it off just above the roots.
Evelyn went perfectly still.
“You did this for me once.” Margaret lowered her hand, the cut strands dangling from her ice-colored fingers. “Mrs. Rawlins was so angry. Remember?”
There was a long, silent breath.
“She said we looked like two half-plucked chickens,” said Evelyn quietly.
“But you just laughed. We both laughed.” Margaret sliced through another handful of hair. When she spread her fingers, the scattered strands disappeared before they touched the floor.
“Margaret.” Evelyn gave a soft snort.