Pain pounded my temples.
I dropped to my knees, eyes squeezing shut as I cried out—from which pain, I couldn’t guess.
“You’re lying!”
“How would I know this if I was lying?” Zoey laughed. “The three— five— seven of us— I won’t tell you exactly how many of us there are. Because all that matters is you, me, and Cavendish had our own thing going on. You and I became friends.”
Temper leaked into her voice. “You taught me how to shoot an arrow. Not as good as you, but good enough. I taught you how to break a man’s arm in a single twist. That’s what you did to Andrew Clein first,” she hissed. “Broke his arm.”
“Stop it!”
Flashes bombarded my mind. Blurred faces, places, scenes that moved too quickly for me to grab one and make it real.
“We got so close, we started watching that time travel show you like. Every Saturday with a bowl of popcorn and homemade tacos. I called you Angel because the Weeping Angels are your favorite monster in the show. That’s who you were to me. My favorite monster.”
“No,” I sobbed. “It’s not true. None of this is true.”
“It is true!” she roared. “Snap out of this boring mental breakdown and wake up! We were friends. You know it. You remember.”
“No!”
But I did.
Fragmented pieces formed a picture of me and a brunette Blake Jensen, laughing and joking while doing target practice on a hay bale. Who would I let touch my precious bows and arrows from Gran, other than a friend?
“There it is,” she hissed. Zoey was suddenly in my face, bending my neck back by the hair. “See? I knew you were still in there, Angel.”
“Stop. P-please.”
“Oh, now you beg? We begged.” She dug the arrow tip in my neck, breaking the skin. “Scott asked you to sacrifice one worthless guy to further our cause, and you refused. Said you didn’t get into this to hurt innocent people. We tried to make you see!”
My head shook in her grip.
“No one is innocent, but everyone is honored in sacrifice.”
“No.”
The pressure in my skull was unbearable. Each horrid word from her snarling lips drove the spike deeper, unleashing a flood of memories that couldn’t be true!
“The sheriff had something we needed. All of a sudden, the stubborn oaf grew a backbone. Refused to give Scott what he asked, so he ordered you to sacrifice the sheriff’s son.”
Eyes huge, Cairo stopped struggling.
“But oh no,” Zoey carried on. “Cairo was innocent. Just a teenager. There had to be another way. Blah, blah, blah. Scott said you had two days to gut the guy, or you’d watch while I did it. You walked into the sheriff’s station that day and told Davidson everything.”
“No,” I whispered.
Yes.
I remembered the station bell chiming. Recalled Davidson’s smile as he said the sheriff was out, but he’d be happy to help me.
Zoey tsked. “Such a shame. If only Andres was on shift that day. We’d be in prison, and none of what came next would’ve happened.”
“Oh no,” I breathed, folding onto the pavement.
My hands came off the ledge and Zoey didn’t care. Glee twisted her smile as the spike pried loose the final memory.
“Yes, Angel.” Her voice neared a soft coo. “You remember how we punished you. The night we busted into the farmhouse, catching you making a cup of tea like all your troubles were over. What did we do, bitch?”
I tossed my head, shaking roughly. But the vision would not stop unfolding.
The body in the barn. Broken, twisted, and beyond help.
“What did we do to you?”
The woman—for now I knew she was a woman—that I buried at Black Widow Hill, did not answer my calls then, nor did she in the memory.
I heard the name I called her. I saw her face when I flipped her over.
“What did we do?”
“You killed me,” I whispered, pain fading as it all came back. “I died that night.”
“Yes.” Zoey released my hair and stroked my cheek. “That’s it. Remember.”
“I forgot about dying.”
My voice was small. Pleading.
“How could I forget?”
“It’s okay.” Zoey kissed my forehead. Standing up, she backed away, aiming my bow at my now silent boys. “You were special, Angel. Only you could live on after death. Even so, you must pay for what you’ve done. Give back the time that wasn’t yours.”
I rose on shaky knees.
“Scott believed we could bring you back through blood, clues, and letters. But he should have known.” Zoey lined the shot at Cairo’s heart. The expert marksman I was, I knew this time she wouldn’t miss.
“The dead only return through sacrifice.”
I looked down below at the black, icy waters.
“Now it’s time to make your choice,” she barked. “You? Or the Bedlam—”
I climbed onto the ledge and jumped off.