Page 54 of The Last Session

“You’d be surprised which guys had the biggesthmm-hmms.” She bobbed her head back and forth. “It’s always the quiet ones.”

Sol let out a huge guffaw and we all giggled. Maybe this naked-hot-tub thing was meant to loosen us all up? The air felt celebratory, especially when Moon appeared with a huge unmarked bottle and passed it around. Could it be? My kingdom for a swig of tequila. But when it came my way—Moon was watching; I had to sip, saliva and sickness be damned—I found it was ice-cold pineapple juice. I handed it to Mikki, who was talking quietly to Moon. She chuckled and nodded as Moon grabbed her arm. Fast friends, huh?

Sometime later—a half hour? More?—Moon raised her hands. “Everyone, a few announcements before bed. First, a breakfast buffet will be in the dining room starting at seven. Sessions will start at eight in the yoga pavilion. Okay?”

“Also!” Sol spoke between cupped hands, which was really not necessary. “If you have any dreams tonight, please let us know.”

“The veils between the worlds are very thin out here,” Moon added. “People often get messages from the other side.” She climbed out of the hot tub, her body shining like a seal’s, with Sol close behind. I noticed Jonah and Ramit watching them—her, most likely. The couple picked up their clothes and started walking back to the castle, still naked. He said something and she pushed him, flirting. Whatever tension had been between them earlier was gone.

Dawne got out next. “Night, everyone!” Mikki and Karen quickly followed suit. Jonah climbed out, and I couldn’t help but glance at his streamlined, muscular body. Who would’ve thought that we’d end up getting naked together, after all?

I wanted to leave, but something was holding me in place. The rest of the group drifted off to the yurts or showers. The stars winked above, blurring when I looked at them directly. There was still that eerie silence underneath the rush of the wind.

“You want to go first?” Ramit asked. His expression was unreadable in the darkness. “I’ll close my eyes. Or I can go.”

“Oh, thank you.” It was thoughtful to offer. I realized I hadn’t spoken to him much yet. “What brought you here, Ramit?”

He shrugged. “Well, first I got hooked on the podcasts. Then I wentto this luncheon, where I met Sol, and we really hit it off. He let me know about this retreat. So… here I am. What about you?”

“Oh, similar story. The podcasts.” I wondered how big their listenership was. It seemed like a pretty genius (and low-cost) way for a cult to spread the word.

“All right, you go.” He held a hand over his eyes. “I’ll get out last and put the cover on.”

“Deal.” I slipped out of the tub and pulled my clothes on over my wet, shivering skin.

“Well, good night,” I called. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You will.” His voice was low, trepidatious, and maybe even tinged with doom.

I knew the feeling.

25

I did dream that night.

I was in the middle of the desert, sitting on sandy dirt that seared my naked skin. The merciless sun beat down, frying my back like bacon. God, it was hot. The heat felt tangible and heavy, crushing me like swaths of velvet. I swallowed and my dry tongue shifted like a small, dead animal in my mouth. Even breathing hurt, like inhaling boiling water.

There was someone lying beside me. She was still alive, but barely. Someone had betrayed us, left us here, but the shock and sorrow had long since drained away. Now, we were just animals, same as the lizards that shimmied by, or the vultures that wheeled overhead.

Something caught my eye in the distance, more a motion than anything: an undulating through the gentle shrub-dotted hills. I squinted, unable to tell what it was.

But it was coming towards us, and fast.

I woke with a gasp. Rolling over, I nearly tumbled out of the cot. I reached out wildly until my fingers connected with the battery-operated lamp.

I sat up in bed, forcing myself to take deep breaths. Okay. I was in a yurt at the Center. Not dying in a desert.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt such physical agony in a dream. But I rarely remembered my dreams, and maybe that was a good thing.

I glanced at the window. In the time it took to swing my head, I saw a face, solid and reflecting back the lamp’s light behind the window screen.

But when I blinked, my eyes focusing, nothing was there.

I turned off the lamp and crept to the window, scanning as my heart pounded.

There was just that expanse of empty land, bathed in the faint opalescent glow of moonlight.

My phone’s alarm pulled me out of darkness. Sun beamed in from the open window. It had taken hours to fall back asleep after my scare, and as I sat up, my body felt heavy with exhaustion and disquiet. The memory of the face in the window came back to me.

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