Nothing’s ever that perfect.

After waiting a few seconds for me to answer, Jasper gently took the phone out of my hand and wrapped an arm around me, his touch feeling like the only thing holding me together as I started to shake in earnest. His voice was almost timid when he spoke. “Seth? It’s me.”

There was silence for a moment, only interrupted by an announcement about a delayed train in the distance.

One of Jasper’s hands, the one that wasn’t holding me, gripped tightly onto the phone. “Noelle has gone missing. We think she may have been kidnapped,” he said.

“I . . . what?” Seth asked. “Jasper, if this is some kind of joke—”

“It’s not,” Jasper insistently said.

“Did you call the police yet?”

“No, we . . . we feel like it might be better if we try looking for her ourselves first.”

“Who’s we? You and Evelyn?”

“Well, we don’t really know what to do, but you . . . I mean, you know so much about these things. Could you . . . is there any way that you can come back here and help us? Please?”

Silence, again. Then, “I’m still waiting for my delayed train to Manchester, but I can take the next one back to Seven Hills. I haven’t gotten very far yet because of the bloody weather, so I’ll try to be there within the next hour.”

“Thank you,” Jasper breathed.

“I have to go now,” Seth said. “The train back will be here in a few minutes and I’m on the wrong platform.”

“Okay.”

There were a few seconds of silence, both waiting for the other to say something, Seth’s labored breaths sounding in time with Jasper’s.

Finally, Seth hung up and the line went dead.

23

Evelyn

Night was pressing against the windows of the castle by the time Seth knocked at the door to my room, hair disheveled and his cheeks red from the cold, rasping an uncertain “Hi.”

“Hi,” Jasper breathed and stepped aside to let him in.

Seth hesitantly brushed past him, carrying the chill inside with him. His eyes softened when they landed on me and he crossed the room in a few long strides, sinking down next to me on the edge of my bed.

“Thanks for coming back,” I whispered, trying my best to return the smile he gave me.

“Of course,” he quietly said. Then, he pointed at the piece of paper in my hands. “Is that the note she left?”

I handed it to him with a nod. Over the past hour, I had read it so many times that by now the words were engraved in the back of my eyelids.

I had to leave.

There was no surprise in the statement. It sounded resigned, like there had never been a chance for her to stay here in the first place.

I had no choice.

The hint of an apology; I’m sorry I had to go. I wish I could have stayed.