I smelled salt, too. And frankincense.

Embalming scents.

I hitched a gasp, my fingers releasing the rose that, amazingly, remained suspended.

I waited several seconds. For what would happen. For something to happen.

Mindful to keep my eyes from meeting his, I watched the blood recede as it had last night, moving toward the invisible wound in his chest before vanishing. The devastated, ruined state of his body, though. It did not change.

Had I expected it to?

But something more about him had to change. Didn’t it? Would it bring him back to me?

The sound of my own shallow breathing sounded loud in my ears as, carefully, I began to withdraw my arm, which came away clean—no traces of blood.

Before I could get very far, his hand caught the back of my elbow.

With renewed strength, he stood from where he’d been leaning against the wall. He stepped into me, recovering the slim distance I’d made. And keeping me close, he loomed tall over me once more.

My own heart quickened inside my ribs.

“Take it back,” he said.

Even as he spoke, my fingers curled into a refusing fist.

“It is sure to shatter,” he said. “And when it does, I cannot be expected to keep my bargain. I scarcely kept it this night.”

“You won’t break your promise,” I whispered. “I know you won’t.”

I withdrew my arm, and he let me.

Once we were parted, he swung away, as though wanting to hide the horror that had already been revealed. But several panes of darkened glass not covered by roses reflected the sight back to us.

I willed myself not to look away as he lifted those luminous twin light eyes to mine.

“Do you want to know how I know?” I asked him.

To this, he made no reply but, gripping his jacket with both hands, he clutched it closed.

His eyes then went to the ceiling, and only when they left me did I give myself permission to follow their stare.

But the masked figure he’d been so fearful of taking over had vanished. As had the blood. And the red glow from the moon. And the flying snow.

Instead, raindrops now began to patter the glass, making it shine.

“Because no,” I whispered. “I don’t believe him.”

SIXTY-EIGHT

Lucas

The next day, for the first time in high school history, I arrived at lunch to find our table empty. Though I wasn’t surprised, I slammed my tray down all the same, not caring when half my fries spilled from their paper boat. I forbade myself from looking up and taking in any of the stares I’d attracted. I didn’t want to scan the crowd and find wherever my so-called friends had relocated to, either.

For a moment, I just stood there, fighting the urge to pick my tray up again, dump everything at the station, and go to the library. Except the library was where Stephanie and I had first met. And there, her absence would ring even louder than it did at this table.