That was the good thing about having a mom who was confined to her bedroom. Sneaking out was no problem. I didn’t even feel bad about it; if she wanted to keep tabs on me, she could get up and come downstairs.

Nan was watching Wheel of Fortune with her broken arm supported on an old velour pillow. “You don’t think you’re going out?” she said, but her voice was a lot gentler than my mom’s.

“I have to,” I whispered. “It’s important.”

She studied my face. “All right. I’ll cover for you. But only until ten. Even if you aren’t going to school tomorrow, it’s still a school night.”

“Right,” I said, taking care to make as little noise as possible when I opened and shut the screen door. I walked my bicycle down the driveway because I was afraid my mother would hear the sound of it kicking up gravel, but the second I was on the sidewalk I raced away. It was late; the sun was setting, and in the distance it looked like more storm clouds were bulging over the mainland. The air was humid but carried that icy chill that usually comes on early September evenings. I shuddered as I sailed up the ramp and onto the boardwalk.

Taryn was waiting for me outside the arcade, our prearranged spot. She looked even worse than before. Her face was the color of old snow, which was a huge contrast to the bloodred rims around each of her eyes. She tried to wave to me, but her hand only made it to hip level before she let it fall. She didn’t smile.

“You ready?” I asked, which was a stupid question. I realized too late I probably shouldn’t be reminding her of the task ahead. She was worried enough as it was.

She just nodded and looked down at the ground.

“You want something to eat before you go on?” I asked, remembering how she ate when she was nervous.

I started to fish through my pockets for money, but she wrinkled her nose and said, “I’m all set.” It was a good thing, since all I had in my pocket was a crumpled dollar and a Trident wrapper. I hoped she was more prepared than I was.

The You Wills had me checking the clock in the arcade, so I did. “Ten minutes. Guess I’ll get back there. I’ll see you after, okay?”

She nodded looking dazed, small, and lonely.

“Hey,” I said to her, taking her by the hand and just soaking in that feeling of peace she gave me. “It’ll be okay.”

She looked into my eyes. “I know. I believe you,” she said, and she tilted her head up and gave me a small kiss, nothing like the one we’d shared earlier that day. Her lips were cold and so weak, I could barely feel their pressure on mine. “See you.”

And she turned and walked to the tent, disappearing beneath its folds.

All I could think of was how stupid it was as I made my way over the arcade wall. That because of this family curse, she’d die tonight if she didn’t Touch someone else. There was no question in my mind—she had it worse than I did. I might not have been able to live a normal day in my life because of my curse, but I didn’t hold another person’s fate in my hands.

I lowered myself into that dark void and smelled the incense and sea as I opened the curtain a crack. It looked like Taryn was alone. She glanced in my direction and sat down in the chair, then let out a small sigh. I thought about saying something to her, something to make her relax, when a rough voice came from the corner of the tent: “You are late. Open the book.”

“Yes, Grandma,” she said. I instinctively shifted backward.

As Taryn did what she was told, her grandmother shuffled into sight. Though her back was to me, I could reach out and touch her. I could smell something like sour milk and mothballs as she moved near me, something that combined with the incense to make my eyes water. I rubbed them and swallowed. I realized this space was like a tomb, something that captured scents and never let them go. I pulled my T-shirt up in front of my mouth and crouched lower, wishing I’d brought a can of Coke with me. Wishing someone would pull back the entrance flap to the tent so that more of that cleansing sea air would come in.

Everything around me felt damp, sticky. It was darker than usual in there and I could hear thunder rumbling over the buzz and ringing of the arcade games. Suddenly the sound of a thousand hoofbeats started to pound above me. Rain. More than rain. Downpour. Taryn said something, but I couldn’t hear it amidst the pounding on the roof. The flap opened, and rain and cold air swirled in.

The client was here. A shape stood in the doorway, shaking the rain off itself like a dog. It was too dark. I couldn’t see more than a hulking black shape. “Freaking rain,” a voice rumbled. It was a man. A young one. He moved forward. Taryn’s grandmother nodded at him and he stepped under the lamp to sign the book.

I was so busy trying to figure out who it was, what kind of guy would want something like Invisible Assassin, that I almost didn’t notice Taryn, sitting there, shaking. His face came into view under the chandelier just as I realized she was yawning. But there was nothing about her face that was tired—she was sitting bolt upright, her eyes wide with fear. She yawned again—what did a yawn mean?—and I finally took in the face that was standing over the table, the face that belonged to the man who was signing his life away.

Bryce Reese.

And the yawn.

Get out.

She wanted me to leave.

Her grandmother and Bryce were busy standing over the book, so I opened the curtain a little and shrugged at her. She looked carefully at the two of them, then nonchalantly turned to me, biting her lip. Her eyes glistened in the minimal orange light from the chandelier. Then she ran her hand through her hair. “Grandma, before we start, I have to use the bathroom.”

That was another signal. She wanted me to meet her out by the crane game. I hoisted myself up and hurried over there. By that time the rain was pouring down in sheets. Taryn’s hair hung in her face in wet ropes. She didn’t wait for me to be standing next to her before she began to sob. “He’s going to use it on you,” she wailed. “The Invisible Assassin.”

I swallowed. “Wait. What? What is the Invisible Assassin?”

“It’s so horrible,” she said. I tried to grab her hands, but they were wet and trembling so much I couldn’t get hold of them. She tried to get more words out but instead another sob caught in her throat. Finally, her breathing calmed enough so she could speak again. “It allows him to target people, and he can just walk away. It will kill their family. And it will kill them. In the worst ways you can imagine.”

“You mean …,” I started. I suddenly thought of my visions, or the lack of them. “Why would he use it on me?”

“You know why. Emma was always his world. And you saw him.” She sighed, but the last bit of air came out as a cough. “And he kind of … He’s not all there. He’s crazy and he hates you.”

“It kills my family, too?” I asked. I thought of Nan and Mom.

“All of them,” she sobbed.

“But my mother never leaves the house.”

“It doesn’t matter. It will find her.”

I studied her. Oh, she was still beautiful. She’d always be. Fifty years from now, if she lived that long, she’d still turn heads. But now, she was dying. Her hair was no longer golden and platinum but frizzy and strawlike, and her pretty features were all sunken in her colorless skin. Then I looked out toward the sea. Everything beyond the boardwalk was gray, the color of nothingness. “You’d better go back in there. He’s going to wonder where you are.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I can’t. Nick. I can’t do it to you. To your family.”

I grabbed her wrist with a lot more force than I meant to. “You have to.”

“No. I’ll find someone else. I’ll—”

“Who?” I demanded, dropping her wrist. “You’ll be dead in three hours if you don’t. Go. Do it. And don’t worry about me and my family. I can take care of us.”