Read Journey's End Page 15


  Leslie nodded quickly, not even really looking at the flyers, her shoulders sagging a little. “Oh, sure,” she said brightly, even as Nolie narrowed her eyes at her.

  “You’re really going to help, right? Not just say you’re going to help, then throw our flyers in the trash, or something?”

  Leslie looked up, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth. “I wouldn’t do that,” she said softly, and from behind Nolie, Al gave what sounded like a snort.

  “Even if Alice told you to?” Bel asked softly, and Leslie met her gaze.

  “Even then,” she said.

  Bel thought for a moment. Leslie had apologized about the prank with Maggie, and maybe this was her way of trying to make up for all of it, not just the prank.

  Rocking forward on the balls of her feet, Leslie looked at the flyers in Bel’s hands. “What’s this all about?” she asked.

  Even if Bel was willing to trust Leslie with the flyers, she still wasn’t ready to trust her with much of the truth. No need getting into why they had called this meeting.

  Taking a deep breath, Bel thrust a handful of flyers into Leslie’s arms. “Don’t worry about that,” she said at last. “Put these up. Wherever you think people will see them.”

  Leslie’s cheeks turned pink, but she smiled, nodding quickly, and the four of them set off down toward the village.

  • • •

  The hall was full before six, people milling about, voices buzzing. Bel had heard at least five different people wonder aloud who had called the meeting, and as she stood next to the wall with Nolie, she tried not to look as nervous as she felt.

  “Stop chewing your fingernails,” Nolie said in a low voice, and Bel dropped her hand, realizing she clearly wasn’t looking relaxed.

  Journey’s End town hall was hardly ever used anymore, although Cara McLendon’s older sister had held her wedding reception there the year before. That’s what it was mostly used for now—get-togethers, the occasional party. It was just a big, old building with exactly one big room, although at some point in the 1980s, someone had installed a loo. Bel had actually never been in the building before tonight.

  They’d agreed that Al would wait outside, and Bel glanced toward the window, wondering where he might have hidden himself. But as she did, she met eyes with her mum, walking in with Jack perched on one hip.

  Mum waved her over, and Bel obeyed, her feet dragging just a little bit. “There you are,” she said. “What have you been up to all day?”

  But before Bel could answer, there was a scraping sound as Nolie dragged a chair to the front of the room. Climbing up on that chair, Nolie stuck her fingers in her mouth, blowing out an ear-piercing whistle that had Bel wincing.

  Even Nolie looked a little abashed at how loud it was, her shoulders rising to her ears, but the room had fallen quiet, a sea of faces now turned toward Nolie.

  “Um,” Nolie began. “Thank you all for coming. We’d like to begin now.”

  There was silence for a few heartbeats, and then the voices all started up again as everyone realized just who had called this meeting.

  Bel’s mum stepped forward, Jack still in her arms, and Bel fought the urge to wring her hands.

  “Girls,” she said firmly. “What is this about?”

  “We’re not wasting anyone’s time, Mrs. McKissick,” Nolie said quickly, still standing on the chair. “I promise. But we think we know how to help get our dads and Jaime back, and we wanted to talk to the town about it.”

  At that, Mum’s expression softened, the corners of her mouth turning down slightly. “Oh, love,” she said to Bel. “I know you’re worried—we all are. But once the fog clears a bit—”

  “It’s not going to clear,” Bel said, her voice stronger than she would’ve thought, given how nervous she was. “We have to go get them, Mum.”

  Now her mum’s mouth was trembling slightly. “Bel,” she began, but Nolie was already stepping down from the chair, offering it to Bel.

  Bel stepped up, her trainers squeaking a little, and as she faced all the people who had come out to the meeting, she couldn’t help but tug her sleeves over her fingers. “It’s the lighthouse,” she said, her voice carrying in the quiet room. “When the light isn’t lit, the fog comes closer and things—people—disappear. Someone has to light the light to make the fog go away.”

  No one said anything to that, and as Bel looked out, she realized everyone was watching her with similar expressions of pity. They felt sorry for her, poor little girl, so desperate to get her dad and brother back that she’d rely on an old story.

  And seeing all those people feeling sorry for her just made Bel angry. “It’s true,” she said, a little louder. “And it’s happened before. In 1918.”

  She and Nolie had talked about this, what exactly to say at the meeting. Neither of them wanted to tell people about Al, but they needed everyone to understand that they knew what they were talking about.

  “The fog came closer, and Albert MacLeish lit the lamp. It made the fog go back to the island and stop coming near the shore. So that’s . . . that’s what we have to do now.”

  From the back of the room, Leslie’s mum stood up. Like Leslie, she had dark hair, although hers was cut short. “Bel, it’s a good story, love, it is, but why in heaven’s name would lighting a lamp make a bit of difference about the Boundary?”

  “I might have an idea?” Nolie said, stepping forward, her backpack in her hands. “About why this happened.”

  And then, to Bel’s horror, she pulled out a book called Legends of the North. “Y’all don’t sell this here in town, but my—my mom sent it to me, and there’s a story—”

  She had just opened the book when Bel’s mum stepped forward, gently laying a hand on her shoulder. “Nolie,” she said. “We’re all worried and upset, but fairy stories aren’t going to help us now.”

  Nolie’s ears and cheeks were pink, but she stood up a little straighter. “It’s not a fairy story,” she said, “It’s history, and I think it might—”

  “The girls are right.”

  Everyone in the hall turned to see Maggie McLeod standing in the doorway. The first time Bel had seen her up close, at her house, she’d thought Maggie was older than she’d ever guessed, but looking at her now, standing up so straight and tall, she couldn’t be sure.

  “It’s the lighthouse,” she said. “It must be lit to hold back the fog.”

  There was silence in the room for a moment, then the soft shushing noise of people fidgeting where they stood. Next to Bel, Nolie was pressed tight against her side, stretching up on her tiptoes for a better look.

  After a moment, Bel’s mum cleared her throat. “Maggie,” she said, in that same tone she’d used to talk to Nolie. “I’m sure there are all sorts of legends about this place, but—” She broke off with a disbelieving and almost embarrassed laugh. “It doesn’t seem like lighting a lighthouse that’s over five hundred years old is the solution. What we need is to send out a few boats—”

  “Those boats will vanish,” Maggie said. “As all the boats have when this happened before. The only thing that will save Journey’s End is for someone to row to that island and light that light. The person you send will never return.”

  Bel couldn’t help but glance behind her at the window, where she could just make out the top of Al’s dark head as he crouched outside, listening. Nolie looked over at her, too, eyebrows raised.

  And then, to Bel’s shock, she realized Maggie was looking at her, too. “Well,” the old woman amended, “they won’t return for some time, at least.”

  Bel stood there, frozen and staring at Maggie. She knew. She had to. Even from this distance, Bel thought she could almost make out a twinkle in Maggie’s eye as she said that, and then Maggie was looking back at Mum.

  “You want to save this town and your loved ones, light the light, and the fog
will recede. What you’ve lost will be returned. It’s the only way.”

  And then, apparently having said all she intended to say, Maggie turned and walked out the door.

  CHAPTER 24

  THERE WAS SILENCE AFTER MAGGIE LEFT, AND THEN, LIKE a gust of wind blowing through the room, the talk started up again, voices hushed but urgent.

  At her place near the window, Bel’s mum was frowning, arms folded so tightly that her hands were cupped around her elbows, and Nolie saw her nodding at something that Leslie’s mum was saying.

  Nolie looked at Bel and nodded at the door.

  They stepped out of the hall, and into the damp, cool evening. Albert walked over from his hiding place behind the fountain, glancing around nervously.

  “What happened?” he asked, and Nolie shook her head, looking off in the direction of Maggie’s house.

  But before she could answer him, Bel faced her. “You couldn’t have told me about the book?”

  Surprised, Nolie widened her eyes. “That book had good stuff in it!” she argued. “There’s this legend about a girl sent off in a boat, and while it doesn’t say it happened in Journey’s End, it could have. I was just . . .”

  Suddenly feeling defeated, Nolie lifted her arms and then let them drop. “I was trying to help.”

  They were all quiet, Albert shifting his weight, looking between them, and Nolie shoved her hands in her pockets, turning to him.

  “Maggie told them,” she said. “About the lighthouse and the curse, and how people have to go light it, but then they don’t come back.”

  Albert’s dark brows shot up on his forehead. “And what did everyone say?”

  Nolie looked over at Bel. She was wearing her yellow jacket tonight, and had it fastened up to her chin. Her blond hair whipped around her face as she sighed and said, “About what you’d think. That it was nonsense and a fairy story, and all of that.”

  Albert shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders rolling. “So what do we do now?”

  “We follow her, obviously,” Nolie replied, and began marching in the general direction of Maggie’s house, her hands clenched into fists.

  To her left, she could see the Boundary rising up off the water. When she’d first come to Journey’s End, it had seemed weird and maybe a little mysterious, but nothing all that sinister. But now her dad was out in that thing, and Bel’s dad and brother, too.

  “Maggie is clearly the answer,” she told Bel and Albert over the rising wind. Under her feet, the cobblestone streets in the city center were slippery, and she was glad she was wearing her wellies.

  Her purple wellies with the flowers on them. The ones her dad bought for her.

  Swallowing down the sudden lump in her throat, Nolie added, “If the people in the village won’t listen to her, fine. We will.”

  “The last time we went up there, she thought we were playing a prank on her,” Albert reminded Nolie, moving fast to keep up with her. Bel was a few steps behind, shooting glances at the town hall over her shoulder every few seconds. “She isn’t going to want to help us.”

  “She is once we tell her about you,” Nolie said, and Albert came skidding to such a sudden stop that Bel nearly ran into him.

  “About me? How I came back?”

  “No, about your deep love for ice cream cones,” Nolie answered, rolling her eyes. “Of course about how you lit the light and came back. If she knows the stories, she’ll know what to do. She’ll believe us. Besides, I think she recognized you that night we went up there.”

  Albert’s shoulders rose. “Probably from my picture in Bel’s shop,” he reminded Nolie. “What if she tells Bel’s mum about me, or calls the police? Where will we be then, Nolie?”

  It was a good point, and one Nolie didn’t really like thinking about all that much. She just wanted to save her dad and Bel’s family, too, and here was Maggie, maybe having an answer. To Nolie’s mind, it seemed like a risk worth taking, but when she turned to Bel, she could see her friend wasn’t sold, either. Her hands had once again disappeared into the sleeves of her jacket, and she was chewing her lower lip, still looking back toward the town hall.

  “We have to do something,” Nolie said, keeping her voice a little lower. She could feel that tight sensation in her throat again, and was suddenly afraid she was going to cry. “You saw that meeting tonight, Bel. No one knows what to do because this is all too weird and too scary, and no one wants to admit that there might be something honestly freaky about all of it. They’re going to have meetings and wonder and worry until the fog is at the village, and by then it might be too late.”

  Overhead, the clouds were getting thicker, almost the same gray as the Boundary, and Nolie felt like the whole world might be turning that color. Like they were all trapped inside a snow globe, but instead of glitter and water, they were about to be surrounded by a thick fog. Maybe forever.

  Finally, Bel gave a firm nod. “You’re right,” she said, and Nolie let out a long breath. “We have to at least try. If she won’t talk to us, or panics about Al, we’ll . . . just have to cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  “I’ve never heard anyone say it that way before,” Albert muttered, but after a pause, he fell in step behind them.

  They wound their way up from Journey’s End to the tall green hills around the village, just like they had the other night. It was earlier this time, but thanks to all the clouds, the day was darker and the wind coming off the ocean felt particularly cold. Was that the Boundary, too? Nolie wondered. Did it feel cold? Was her dad in there even now with Bel’s dad and brother, shivering on that boat, surrounded by all that rolling fog?

  The idea of it made her stomach hurt, and she turned to look at Albert. He still had his hands in his pockets, his head bent. “What do you remember?” she asked him. “About the fog, specifically. Was it cold in there, were you scared . . . ?”

  Albert paused, lifting his head. His cheeks were red from the wind, his mouth pursed slightly as he thought. Once again, Nolie couldn’t get over how . . . normal he was starting to look. Like he belonged in their time after all.

  “Aye, it was cold,” he said at last. “But not an unnatural cold. Just . . . the regular sort, I s’pose. It’s hard to remember now.”

  “What do you mean?” Bel asked. She’d fished a hair elastic out of her pocket now, and was trying to pull her hair back into a stubby little ponytail.

  Albert shrugged, ducking his head again. “Just that once I got there, it was like the fog was in my mind itself. It was hard to think, hard to remember why I was there. And I can barely remember leaving. Just that one second I was on the shore, and the next, I was in my boat.”

  “And you don’t remember rowing around for a long time, either, right?” Nolie asked. “Even though you were there for, like, a hundred years.”

  Albert nodded. “Only felt like a wee bit to me.”

  “That makes sense,” Bel said, scuffing her boot along a loose stone on the path. “There’s something magic about the fog, so the fog doing magic on your brain makes sense.”

  Nolie stopped, looking at her friend with wide eyes. “Um, Bel, did you just admit that magic is afoot?”

  Bel scrunched up her face. “I did. I don’t like that I did, but I did.” She gave another look back to the village. “Or maybe it’s just that right now, some magic would be nice.”

  Nolie understood that.

  They started walking again, Nolie’s legs burning the farther uphill they went. Once they were at the top of the hill, the ruined castle clear in the distance, all three of them stopped and stared.

  “Why did we ever take boats out to it?” Bel said. “How didn’t that seem terrifying?”

  “I thought the same thing the morning it took my brother,” Al added. “That it seemed so stupid not to see how dangerous it was.”

  Almost like it could hear them, the Bo
undary seemed to bulge out, sliding across the gray waters of the Caillte Sea, churning like something in a cauldron.

  “It’s not fog. It’s a curse.”

  The three of them turned around to see Maggie standing there, her gray hair blowing around her face, her hands on her hips. “But then, I think the three of you have that figured out.”

  CHAPTER 25

  MAGGIE’S HOUSE DIDN’T SEEM SO SPOOKY AS THEY approached it this time, but maybe that’s because it wasn’t dark yet. Or maybe, Bel decided as she trudged through the grass toward the front steps, it was because Maggie was with them now, and there wouldn’t be any knocking on doors, any trying to explain what was going on.

  The lights were on inside, spilling out the front windows, and as Maggie opened the front door, she glanced over her shoulder at Bel, Nolie, and Al.

  “Wipe your feet.”

  They obeyed as Maggie went on into the foyer, and Nolie leaned close to Bel. “What do you think it’ll be like inside there?” she whispered.

  “Maybe like the attic at the Institute?” Bel replied.

  Nolie nodded. “Yup. Lots of paintings, some plants. Really old furniture.”

  Their shoes cleaned, the trio stepped into Maggie’s foyer. It was a lot like Bel had expected, all warm, polished wood, the scent of tea and candles in the air, and one wall dominated by a giant tapestry of a girl sitting in a forest, a unicorn at her feet.

  But when they followed Maggie farther down the hall, the house . . . changed.

  They walked into what had probably once been the front parlor of the house, back when people had used parlors. It was a cozy room, the walls wood-paneled and the ceiling low with heavy wooden beams running across it, and big windows facing the loch behind the house, but there was also a huge flat-screen TV affixed to one wall, and while the deep brown sofa looked expensive and comfortable, it also seemed pretty modern to Bel. In fact, the whole room seemed to be filled with the latest model of everything. A tablet, phone, and laptop computer were charging on a table, and big, beautiful photographs of cities at night lined the walls.