Chapters (53)
- Front Cover
- Letter from the Author
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Contents
- • One •
- • Two •
- • Three •
- • Four •
- • Five •
- • Six •
- • Seven •
- • Eight •
- • Nine •
- • Ten •
- • Eleven •
- • Twelve •
- • Thirteen •
- • Fourteen •
- • Fifteen •
- • Sixteen •
- • Seventeen •
- • Eighteen •
- • Nineteen •
- • Twenty •
- • Twenty-One •
- • Twenty-Two •
- • Twenty-Three •
- • Twenty-Four •
- • Twenty-Five •
- • Twenty-Six •
- • Twenty-Seven •
- • Twenty-Eight •
- • Twenty-Nine •
- • Thirty •
- • Thirty-One •
- • Thirty-Two •
- • Thirty-Three •
- • Thirty-Four •
- • Thirty-Five •
- • Thirty-Six •
- • Thirty-Seven •
- • Thirty-Eight •
- • ∞ •
- • Thirty-Nine •
- • Forty •
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- Excerpt from Be Dazzled
- One
- Two
- About the Author
- Back Cover
Well they had already hurt Kane, which meant half of Dean’s prophecy was already true. And Dean was not simply a civilian. He had been lucid, like Kane. Like the Others. Yet he was not one of the Others. He was the one constant of Kane’s first day, yet he was the one thing that had yet to fit.
Drawings of shoes danced across the journal pages. What he now knew were Elliot’s sneakers and Adeline’s flats. Kane flipped, looking for another clue. Another photo. He was sure Dean had guided him this far. Kane was desperate to go farther.
An alarm went off somewhere in the house. His parents. Sophia rose second. She’d want answers. Kane needed to think of more lies.
Something in the pages flashed. Kane flipped back but it was gone. He shook the journal upside down, and it fluttered out.
It was a card of heavy paper, bordered in golden filigree. The font was elegant and sparkling. It said:
To: Kane Montgomery
What: You are cordially invited to attend tea for two.
Where: 147 Carmel Street
There was no signature, but scrawled at the bottom was a line of glossy black ink. When Kane brushed his thumb over it, the looping letters smudged.
It read:
Kane shot down Carmel Street on his bike, zipping past Victorian houses converted into boutique offices and salons. As he approached downtown, the thick foliage broke apart to admit denser developments that lost their character and melded together like braced teeth. He was sure the invitation was Dean’s next clue, just like Dean had passed him the photo in the same journal. The address on the invitation was the library. He wondered if Dean liked books. Maybe they liked the same books.
Right now.
Kane had left in a rush, but not before dirtying some dishes and penning a note about some early morning tutoring. He knew Sophia would see through this, so he’d texted her. Don’t worry. I’m fine. I’ll tell you everything.
Then he’d turned off his phone and hoped she didn’t call the police.
Kane banked through gentle curves, the pale morning rising over him and growing thick with birdsong, heat, and the chatter of insects. When the library came into view he stopped short. It was covered in construction materials. A fence lined with green canvas bordered the property, and plastic curtains had been pulled over most of the windows. Through them the library looked empty, a gutted shell of Kane’s memory.
The invitation hummed in his pocket. Around him the chorus of cicadas swelled, urging him forward, except suddenly his secret investigation didn’t feel like so much fun.
Still, as imperfect as this plan might be, it was his.