I turn and walk to the door. When I hear a single bark behind me, I don’t look back. I just step out into the breezy night and only when my feet touch the cool rocks do I realize I never put on shoes.
But it doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing does.
In a way, I feel at peace. More at peace than I ever have. I let my feet carry me up toward the cliffs to the one place Dante tried hard to avoid earlier.
The Mausoleum. And then beyond.
26
Dante
I can’t sleep. I didn’t expect to, but I could have used at least an hour or two of oblivion.
A glance at the clock tells me it’s a little after two in the morning. I push the blanket off, pull on jeans, a hoodie, and a pair of boots then step out into the hallway. All is quiet, the hallway deserted. Cerberus gives a whiny bark from the kitchen. It’s out of place, not like him, but I ignore it and head toward Mara’s room.
Strangely, I can almost feel her presence here.
I pause at her door to listen but hear nothing. I don’t want to wake her, so I don’t knock. Instead, I turn the doorknob and peer inside. It’s dark, the curtains mostly drawn but not completely so moonlights filters in.
And something feels off.
The bed is empty, blankets pushed back. But the bathroom door is closed. Maybe she’s in there. Although I don’t see a light from under the door.
Cerberus’s low whine registers in the background of my mind as a strange sense of foreboding twists my stomach. I cross the room to the bathroom.
“Mara?” I ask, knocking once. When there’s no answer, I open the door.
It’s empty, though, and the memory of the last time we did this, repeated this exact scenario, returns. My heart rate accelerates but I stop, take a breath in. I look around the room, see the tray Lenore had brought up for her. It’s untouched. I knew that, though, from when I checked on her before going to bed myself. She’d been asleep. Probably too exhausted to eat.
Cerberus barks loudly.
I stop and listen. And that urgency I’d felt moments ago burns inside my gut. I hurry toward the door, but something catches my eye as I pass the desk.
A note.
Three words.
Three. Fucking. Words.
I am sorry.
I fly through the house and into the kitchen where I find Cerberus barking at the door. I don’t bother pulling on a jacket but open the door. The instant I do, Cerberus bounds out, and I hurry after him, taking in the cool breeze as I scan the beach for her. She’s not here though. And as Cerberus picks up her scent and runs toward the cliffs, I realize where she’s gone. The one place I tried hard to avoid all day. Tried so hard to shield her from.
The wind picks up as I climb the rocky cliffs, the ascent growing steeper and steeper. Cerberus disappears over the peak and the ground levels out a little as I reach it. I can see the marble wall of the Mausoleum as rocks slip under my boots.
I should have seen her by now. Cerberus had only just started barking. Or had I missed the sound before? Did she write that note hours ago and slip out to come to these cliffs? To the one place she was always afraid of when she was little.
“Mara,” I call out once I’m standing in the face of what is fierce wind up here.
Something creaks, the sound eerie as wind propels clouds from the moon, letting that silvery, ghostly light shine on the marble walls.
That creak comes again. I walk to the building, enter through the open door. The Tabernacle lamp burning inside.
But if she was here, she’s gone now.
Cerberus barks a single, sharp bark. I rush out of that dank mausoleum and follow the sound. The sea roars below us as I near the cliff’s edge, slowing my steps as rocks slide out and over the edge.
“Mara!”
Nothing.
But it’s when I get around the bend that I see her and simultaneously, I feel relief and utter terror at the sight.
She looks like an apparition. A blur in the dark. Clothes and hair blowing in a wild halo around her. A ghost already.
“Mara,” I say, walking toward her.
Cerberus is lying on the ground, head on his paws, whining. I’m not sure she realizes we’re here. She’s so intent on the sea. Her face to the wind. Hair whipping it while she stands still as stone.
I navigate the steep decline toward her. I don’t want to spook her. I’m so close. But it would take one step for her to slip away. For her to be gone for good this time.
And when I’m almost within reach of her, I hear her. She’s singing a tune. Something in Spanish. Something sad.