Page 112 of Sweet Nightmare

“I’m sorry,” I whisper again. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“We have to go,” Caspian urges from somewhere up ahead of me.

“Go,” I tell him as I reach out and close Bianca’s eyes. “I’ll catch up.”

“I can’t leave you!” he says. “Aunt Camilla will kill me. Plus, no one is allowed to stay on the island.”

The irony is rich.

He gestures to the teachers herding kids down the sidewalk toward the beach that is usually completely off-limits.

But as I sit here at her feet, all I can focus on is the girl whose death I caused.

“We need—” He breaks off as someone crouches beside me.

“Hey, Clementine.” I look up at the familiar voice, only to find three versions of Simon crouching down next to me. “You knew her?” he asks sympathetically.

“I’ve been here my whole life,” I answer. “I know everybody.”

He nods and reaches out a gentle hand to hold mine. “I’m sorry,” he says in that quiet way he has.

“You’re not the one who should be sorry.” I am. I did this.

My stomach revolts for the second time today, and I find myself puking what’s left of my favorite dill pickle chips into one of the potted plants behind the bench as lightning splits the sky above us.

“Go!” I tell Simon and Caspian, waving them away as my body continues to go through the motions of vomiting long after my stomach is empty of bile or anything else.

When the nausea finally passes, I rest my head on the cold, wet pot for a few seconds and try to catch my breath—and my will to go on—back.

The former is a lot easier to find than the latter.

“Can I help you up?” Simon asks, and it’s the first time I realize that he’s still here—and so is Caspian. They didn’t leave me.

I want to say no, want to tell them to just go on without me. I was never supposed to step foot off of this island anyway. But it’s becoming more and more obvious that neither one of them has any plans to head anywhere without me.

So I nod, and Simon wraps a surprisingly strong arm around my shoulders and helps me to my feet.

“We can’t leave her like this,” I tell him and Caspian.

“They’re coming for her,” my cousin answers. “I promise, Clementine.”

As if on cue, two of the staff warlocks head toward us, a large black bag in their hands—at least I think there are two, since I can see six of them.

I step aside so they can get to her, and Simon—who still has his arm around my shoulders—begins to guide me down the path.

Normally, I’d tell him that I’ve got this, but the contact helps me focus on present Simon, while past and future Simon—both of whom are dressed in Calder Academy uniforms just to make things extra complicated—hover nearby.

Add in the fact that, for once, I’m not reacting to his siren pheromones and this seems like the path of least resistance. Also, since he’s steering us, I don’t have to work so hard to try to figure out what’s real and what’s not.

More lightning splits the sky above us, followed instantly by a rumble of thunder that shakes the very ground beneath our feet. At the same time, the wind picks up so fast and hard that Simon and I stumble and nearly fall.

Sheer strength of will—his, not mine—keeps us upright as the eerie wail of the hurricane siren splits the night. It’s just my mother, calling us all down to the beach, but the low, discordant blast of it blends with the shriek of the wind, turning the sinister into the apocalyptic. Caspian must think so, too, because he speeds up until he’s as close to jogging as he can get considering the headwind he’s pushing against.

“What are you doing back here anyway?” I shout so Simon can hear me above the storm. “Caspian said they’re holding everyone on the beach.”

“Jude,” he answers simply. “They’ve got him locked down, but he wanted to make sure you made it to the portal.”

I don’t know what to say to that as a fresh wave of pain flows through me. It’s just one more layer to add to what’s already inside me.

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