Page 93 of The Narrow

Did Grace realize the same thing? Even if she did, I know my Grace. She had no barriers, no selfishness. She would have given herself completely to Delphine, without hesitation.

By the time we reach the top of the hill, I’ve regained some coordination. There’s a girl standing by the old chapel. She’s wrapped in a puffy winter coat and wears a red cap with a little pom-pom at the top; she dances from foot to foot nervously. It’s only when she lets out a cry of relief and runs toward us that I find the name, a splinter in the corner of my mind.

Veronica.

“Eden!” she cries and wraps her arms around me. Muscle memory saves me, returning the hug as I dredge up more of Eden.The more of her I let in, the more I feel muddied. I have to stay myself. She’d never let me do what I need to. She’s too soft.

She didn’t understand like I hoped she would.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” Oster says wearily. He’s gotten so old. Time doesn’t pass the same way beneath the water. It’s flat eternity, punctuated only by pain and fear. When Grace was there, it was bearable. When she was gone, only the horror was left.

Left, left, left me—

I swallow down the water that floods my mouth.

“I realized you were gone. I was afraid—” Veronica cuts off with a sob. “What were you thinking? What happened down there?” She pulls back from me but keeps a hand on my shoulder, as if she wants to reassure herself that I’m not going anywhere. ThatEdenisn’t going anywhere, and I need to keep that distinction in mind, because, oh, it’s harder than I thought to hold her at bay, to keep her tucked up against the borders of her own mind.

“I’m okay,” I say, and borrow a smile from Eden’s memories. “Dean Oster told me the truth. Maeve is... she’s gone, I guess.”

“Good,” Veronica says fiercely.

“Not forever, I fear,” Oster says, and the word echoes in my mind.Forever and forever and forever.

I need Grace. But not yet. I can’t just rush over there. I need to be patient.

“Let’s get you two back to bed,” Oster says. “We can talk more in the morning.”

Veronica puts her arm around me, and I lean into her. Oster’scoat smells strongly of wet wool. I hate having it against my skin, but at least it’s warm. I haven’t been warm in such a long time.

Oster lets us into Westmore and leaves us at the door of our suite. “I wish I could say that you’ll be safe here, but I don’t know if she can come back, or if she will,” he says.

“Coming out of the water takes a lot of strength,” I say. “She’ll be too weak to do it again tonight.”

Oster gives me a considering look, and for a moment I fear he’ll realize that this isn’t something Eden has entirely pieced together, but he nods. “That makes a certain amount of sense, I suppose. As much as any of this does. I still can hardly believe... But that’s the problem, isn’t it? If I had believed earlier, I might have prevented so much of this. I could have stopped her from attacking Aubrey.”

“That was an accident,” I say immediately, and berate myself for the slip. This is proving harder than I thought. It’s been so long since I actually had a conversation with living people—other than Eden, and she isn’t doing much talking at the moment.

“So sheclaims,” Veronica says viciously.

Why does she think she can know what happened? How could she believe that she can understand even a fraction of what it was like?

Dragging myself from the water, across the campus, the only thought twining through the labyrinth of suffering was that single name: Grace. Following an instinct I wasn’t aware of, much less could explain. Finding in her place that girl, who looked at me in terror, who wouldn’t tell me where Grace was.

I only wanted to speak to her. To make her understand. WhenI held her face in my hands, when I showed her the rush and the current and the clamoring rocks, it wasn’t out of malice. I only wanted her to know my suffering, so she could understand why I needed Grace. So she would stop standing in my way and let the water in.

“Eden?” Veronica asks, a quaver in her voice.

I tame the anger lashing inside me and let out a weary sigh. “I don’t want to argue about this right now,” I say. “I just want to sleep.” I shrug out from Oster’s coat and hold it out to him. He takes it, folding it over his arm.

“Please be careful,” he admonishes us. “Be safe.”

Veronica takes my hand. “I won’t let that drippy bitch anywhere near her.” Her expression is fierce.

I am going to wipe that look off your face. I am going to make you afraid. You are going to find out what forty years in the dark have made me, and you are going to taste the darkness, too.

I squeeze her hand and smile.

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