Mary finally looked up at him, feeling that painful twinge of love that had plagued her for so long. She couldn’t handle that unforgiving feeling alone.

“I want to talk to my brother,” she said. “I want to talk to Mikey.”

“He’s gone,” said a voice behind Nick.

Mary looked past Nick to see that Allie had arrived. Jix was there too, and so were her own skinjackers. They had all heard what Nick said, and were looking at her with a putrid mix of fear and pity. She tried to reach her tendrils of light out to snare them, but realized that the persuasive power she always had, which had grown into a mystical force, was now gone. It had been stolen by the light. All that was left of her afterglow now was a faint luminescence, no more remarkable than anyone else’s.

The Pet spoke without as much as raising his hand. “I’m sorry, Miss Mary,” he said, “but I quit.”

She could see in the rest of their faces that The Pet was speaking for all of them. She turned to Nick, who still waited patiently for an answer to his proposition. “You don’t need to be Mary Hightower anymore,” he said. “You could be Megan Mary McGill . . . all you have to do is accept that you were wrong.”

Mary told him nothing, because there was nothing more to say. Her choices were simple and clear.

“Thank you, Nick,” she said, and she kissed him, allowing herself to savor the moment, and lock it into her memory. Then she turned and walked toward the edge of the deadspot, where the old blue refrigerator stood. She pushed it over, watching it fall backward onto the sands of the living world. In this position it did, indeed, look like a sarcophagus. For the first time she noticed the brand name on the door: Westinghouse. Mary could have laughed, for it occurred to her that this would be the only “West” that she’d be going. She grabbed the heavy latching handle and lifted open the door.

“Mary, no!” said Nick.

But Allie grabbed his arm. “This is her choice.”

Mary knew there wasn’t much time, for the refrigerator had already begun to sink. She took one last look at Everlost, the world that had almost been hers . . . then she stepped inside the cramped, claustrophobic space, and laid down on her side, pulling up her knees so that she could fit.

All you have to do is accept that you were wrong.