Page 16 of Dead Wrong

His grip on my arm slackened, and it was only then that I noticed that Bastien had been holding me in place. My skin ached from the touch, a dull throb.

“I was with Lynette,” I explained, turning around and half-expecting her to be there, waiting for me with outstretched arms, her lavender dress glowing brilliantly in the daylight. But there was just a topiary and an empty path weaving its way towards the clubhouse.

Bastien’s golden eyes were wide when I turned around.

“What do you mean you were with her?”

“Did you find him?” Lorelei poked her head over a rosebush—a feat for one as vertically challenged as she—then rounded the corner to meet them. “Oh, thank the gods.”

“I saw her,” I answered Bastien’s question with a huff, heated frustration burning behind my eyes. “I don’t know how I did it. Nothing here is making sense. One moment, I was staring at a blasted rosebush, and the next, Lynette was pulling me through a sea of faceless shadow people, chattering on like nothing has changed.”

Lorelei tensed at Bastien’s side. “You saw her?”

“Yes. And no. I don’t think she was actually here. Or maybeIwasn’t actually here. It was like I was?—”

“Reliving a memory?”

Lorelei and I both turned to look at Bastien.

“You know what this is?” I asked, ashamed that I was still letting myself be surprised. “Let me guess, now you’ll tell me it’s a death thing, right? Then you’ll warn me about how dangerous it is, and blah, blah, blah. Can we skip to the part where you explain whether or not this is going to help us find Lynette?”

The edges of Bastien’s mouth twitched as he held back a smirk. “I actually have no idea if it’s dangerous, but I do know there’s a name for it.”

My eyes rolled back in annoyance. “Is it ominous?”

Bastien’s teeth sunk into his lower lip—another sign he was holding back laughter.

“Call it whatever you want,” Lorelei interrupted, “does this mean you can recall what happened that night? Can you go through the details?”

“They’re fuzzy,” I said, shaking my head. “I didn’t get that far before I was pulled out.”

“You were about to walk head-first into a topiary,” Bastien defended himself. “Was I supposed to let you impale yourself on a sword made out of boxwood?” He motioned to the sculpted knight figure behind me, its weapon drawn and pointed down at chest level.

Lorelei exhaled, a deflated sound like an exasperated mother whose children had worn her down to the last nerve. “With every wasted moment, the odds of us finding Lynette dwindle.”

“I don’t need reminding,” I sniped, rubbing an irritating pain from my temple.

Lorelei stepped in front of me, planting herself before unleashing a baleful stare. “Obviously, you do. Now stop gawking at me like a petulant child and get on with it. This may be the last chance for you to do something good with what’s left of your life. I’d hate to see you squander it.”

Bastien winced, but Lorelei’s words didn’t strike me anywhere deep enough to cause lasting damage. I didn’t need reminding of my inadequacies. Mother seemed to take enough enjoyment from doing that herself when I was alive.

Instead of rising to her goading, I turned to Bastien and asked, “You know something about this magic, yes?”

Bastien nodded slowly.

“Can I take the two of you with me? Into the memory, I mean. I have enough going on trying to piece together the details as I go. Like I’m trying to cross a bridge while building it. It would be helpful to have others there to help keep things straight.”

“It’s theoretically possible,” Bastien said, folding his arms. “But I can only guess it would take a significant amount of magic to hold together?—”

“Save the warnings,” I interrupted, holding a hand up. “Just tell me how to do it.”

“There’s no telling how much of a strain it’ll place on you,” Bastien answered, his voice tight. “I could only put a finite amount of magic into that gem. Should it run out completely, you’ll start to die again.”

How fitting that my existence in this world would be tied so directly to the magic I held. After all, it was my family’s magic that made my life what it was. Without it, I was nothing. A husk of the person I was before the grave. But I would use every bit of what I held to save Lynette if that’s what it took.

Even through the jumbled chaos of my mind, I knew the sentiment was true. And someplace deep down inside me knew that if my life must be forfeited for hers to continue, it was still an exchange of astronomical disparity.

Lynette had always been more important.

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