Skye realized more fully than she ever had before that Dakota wasn’t the only one who had died that night; their family, as they had known it, had died, too.
Quietly she said, “The afterward isn’t easy for the rest of us.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Although Skye didn’t know if he was apologizing for behaving so recklessly, or simply telling her how badly he felt, it didn’t matter. Dakota was here—as much with her as he had ever been—and that was enough.
Dakota said, “You know you can’t stay here.”
“With you?” The thought of leaving her brother again, when she’d only now found him, felt horribly wrong. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“You can find me again anytime, now that you know how,” Dakota said. “You’re the path, Skye. The gateway between our worlds. You can always talk to me; you can always talk to any of us. And trust me, there’s a lot of guys over here who are dying to talk to you … okay, maybe that wasn’t the best choice of phrase. Ready and waiting, let’s say.”
“I can talk to the dead now?”
“The dead who have something to say. And I don’t mean like some crappy TV psychic, you know? This is going to be the real deal.”
“Am I supposed to—make people feel better? Solve murders or something?” Well, now she had something original to speak up about on career day. “Where is this gift supposed to take me?”
“Wherever you want to go, sis. But none of that matters if you cross over for good now.”
If she froze to death, he meant. Skye became aware of her physical body again—still at a distance, but enough to feel the dangerous numbness claiming her limbs. “Do you promise I’ll be able to find you again?”
Dakota gave her that lopsided grin that always made her want to smack him, and yet smile back, too. “Oh, you’re never gonna get rid of me now.”
Skye laughed. It seemed to her that she’d gone from a place of ultimate fear to a place where fear didn’t even exist. If the only danger was death, that was no danger at all, not in the end. “I love you, Dakota. I always felt like I never said it enough.”
“Love you, too. And yeah—nobody ever says it enough. Nobody in the world. But I always knew you loved me. Except maybe that time you stole my skateboard.” His expression was half tenderness, half exasperation. “Will you save yourself already?”“I’ll go. I’ll get out of here. But I’ll come to you again soon.”
“Count on it,” Dakota said, as if he knew much more about it that he wasn’t saying yet.
Her body closed around her again, and Skye transformed from the liberated spirit she’d been back into a creature of blood and bone. The cold hit her, and she gasped, almost unable to catch her breath.
Clumsily she pushed herself to sit up and take in her surroundings. Dakota had vanished; nothing of his presence remained. It was stranger than it should have been to realize that he had left no footprints, no impression in the snow. She was alone in the underbrush, her wet underclothes freezing around her shaking body; the tips of her hair were already becoming icicles. An incredible sleepiness hit her, as if all she needed to make herself feel better was to lie down and take a long nap.
That was hypothermia talking: Skye knew the signs. So she fought the urge to rest, braced her hands against the trunk of the nearest tree, and shoved herself upright until she could stand.
Where am I? Okay, not too far from the area with all the shops—but she understood now that it was farther than she’d be able to walk, suffering as she was from shock and exposure. She’d just have to make it to the nearest road. It was well after dark now, and in this weather few people would be out, but she only needed one car to stop and help her, or even just to call the police. Though her legs shook and she felt weak, Skye began moving toward the road. One step. One more. That was all she had to do, keep going.
As she got closer to her goal, Skye saw a pair of headlights drawing near. Could she make it in time to wave at them, get their attention? Her red, numb feet wouldn’t move much faster. But she didn’t have to get to the road; the car pulled over anyway, and she heard the slamming of doors.
Skye opened her mouth to shout for help, then thought, What if it’s the vampires? What if it’s Redgrave? They’d had a van before, but they might have a car at their disposal, too; she didn’t know. Fear returned to her—not of dying, but of living as a captive. That was the only thing worth fearing.
Then she heard a voice call out, “Skye?”
“Balthazar!”
He emerged from the inky blackness, long coat billowing behind him as he ran toward her, his handsome face bruised and cut. Never had he looked so beautiful to her. Skye managed a few steps on her shaky feet before he closed the distance and pulled her fiercely into his arms.
“God, I thought we’d lost you,” Balthazar murmured, between rough kisses against her cheek. “Are you all right?”
“Just—just cold.” Her teeth chattered so much that it was hard to get the words out. “I’m so glad you found me.”
Two more figures came toward them, indistinct amid the swirling sleet until one of them called, “Did you find her?”
Incredulous, Skye said, “Craig? Britnee?”
Sure enough, her ex-boyfriend and his current girlfriend were coming toward them; Britnee even held Skye’s coat in her hands. As Skye yanked it on gratefully, Craig said, “We dropped by to check on you, and Mr. More was there and he told us some people were after you, or something like that—I didn’t know what to think until that weird crew showed up at your old house. Anyway, now I realize he was telling the truth. I’m glad you’re okay.”