He was here. He was really here.

And I didn’t know what to do. Laugh? Cry? Scream?

Fisher pushed past me into the room. “Tristan!” He thundered, kicking his booted foot.

Tristan groaned and rolled on his side. That was when we saw the blood. It was everywhere. A thick pool of it, dark as oil, spreading out from behind his head. My hands flew to cover my mouth. Cori, meanwhile, crept along the front of the room as if looking for something, keeping her back to the wall.

“Tristan?” Bea gasped, falling to her knees.

She tentatively touched his head, and the color drained from her cheeks. “It’s bad, you guys. His whole skull…”

She turned away, swallowing hard, then got up and staggered to the window, ripping the curtains aside and heaving for breath.

“Who would do this? Who would come in here and attack him?” I asked.

Then, suddenly, Cori screamed.

“What the—”

“Nadia! It’s Nadia!” Cori was pointing at the floor near the back of the room, shaking. “She’s not breathing, you guys! I don’t think she’s breathing.”

I grabbed a lantern and rushed over to Cori’s side. The first thing I saw were Nadia’s black Converse, twisted over each other. My eyes traveled up her skinny legs, her flat torso, up her neck to her face. I gasped and took a step back. Her eyes were open and staring. Not blinking. There was no life in them.

“No, no, no,” Joaquin said, joining us. “That’s not possible. She’s just screwing with us.”

He crouched next to Nadia’s body and put his fingers to her neck. His brows knit and he moved his fingers. Then he moved them again. His hand trembled. When his gaze flicked up to meet mine, I could tell he didn’t want to speak.

“What?” Bea croaked from the far corner, hugging herself. “What, Joaquin?”

“There’s no pulse,” Joaquin said, surprised. “Cori’s right. Nadia’s dead.”

Cori wailed and buried her face in Fisher’s shoulder. Lauren buckled backward, staggering until she collided with the wall, where she sank to the floor, straggly strands of her wet hair snagging on tears in the ancient wallpaper.

“I don’t understand,” I said. We were supposed to be immortal. That was the deal. “If a Lifer dies, where does their soul go?”

No one answered, because there was no answer. This had never happened before. Not in anyone’s memory. Ice-cold fear permeated the room, trembling the air around us, turning eyes wide and jaws slack. Where had Nadia gone? Where would any of us go?

“Please…”

Tristan. His eyes were still closed, but his fingertips clawed at the dusty floor, curling in toward his palm. He groaned and my knees buckled. I threw myself onto the worn throw rug next to him, my heart wrenched inside my throat.

“Tristan?”

I put my hand on his shoulder. He felt cold—impossibly cold—and I could feel the muscles quivering beneath his skin.

“Help…” he muttered, the words a half wheeze. “Help us.”

And then his body went slack.

“We have to get him out of here!” I exclaimed, looking at the frightened faces around me. “We have to get him to the mayor or…or a doctor. Something.”

“What about Nadia?” Cori cried. “We can’t just leave her here.”

“I can carry Nadia over my shoulder,” Fisher said, his green eyes flat.

“You can?” Cori asked.

“Fireman’s lift. She weighs, like, nothing.” Then, to prove his point, Fisher walked over and lifted Nadia’s limp body, folding her over his shoulder. Cori gasped and started to sob. Nadia’s Lifer bracelet dangled from her skinny arm like it wanted to fall.

“I’ll help you with Tristan,” Bea offered, pushing away from the window and stepping up to Joaquin.

Tristan let out a weak, gurgly moan.

“We have to move,” Joaquin said. “We can’t let him…”

“Die.” Lauren spoke for the first time in five minutes. She’d been so quiet I’d forgotten she was there, but now she turned her dark eyes up at me and stared, her arms limp like a rag doll’s at her sides. “Die is the word you’re looking for.”

No one spoke. No one breathed. This wasn’t something we were ever supposed to face. I crouched down next to Lauren and took her hand. “It’s going to be all right.”

“How?” Her voice went childish as her bottom lip trembled. “How is it?”

I swallowed hard and looked to the others for help. Their faces were blank. A terrified blank. “I don’t know, but the sooner we get them back to the mayor, the sooner we can figure it out. Come on.”

I gripped Lauren’s upper arm and helped her up from the floor. Then Joaquin slid his hands under Tristan’s arms and lifted, letting Tristan’s head loll back against his chest, where it left a smear of blood. Bea grabbed beneath his calves, and Lauren, Cori, and I led the way out the door, down the stairs, and back into the night. The rain was sharp and driven, like tiny pinpricks against my skin.

This was not what I had imagined when we’d come out on this mission. I’d seen myself indignantly spitting questions at Tristan, him hanging his head in shame. I’d seen us gathering at the bridge to free the innocents from the Shadowlands. When we’d driven down here, I’d thought I knew exactly what I was doing. But now I was more confused than ever.

When we got to Tristan’s car, I opened the doors to the back. Bea and Joaquin carefully loaded Tristan onto the seat, laying his head down gingerly.

“We’ll take Nadia in the Jeep,” Fisher suggested.

“There’s not enough room,” Bea said.

“I’ll stay with you guys.” Kevin climbed into the front of the SUV.

I glanced around—at Kevin, at Joaquin, at Tristan. There was nothing left for me to do except climb into the back with him. The guy who’d betrayed me. The guy who had sent my family to hell. I thought about putting his head on my lap, but it seemed too intimate. So instead, I slammed the door, walked to the other side, and put his feet up awkwardly on my lap, every inch of my body tense enough to snap.

“You okay?” Joaquin asked as everyone else crammed into the Jeep.

I grit my teeth. “Let’s just go.”

Joaquin got in, and the engine roared to life. He flipped a quick U-turn and started up the hill toward town, the windshield wipers flapping a frantic beat from side to side. I couldn’t bear to look at Tristan’s face, so instead I stared out the window at the rain.

“It doesn’t make any sense. Who would do this?” I said as we drove out onto the town square, the tires sending walls of water flying up on either side of the car. “Who would attack them and leave them for dead? We’ve all been looking for him. We all want answers.”

“I don’t know,” Joaquin said, glancing over his shoulder at Tristan. “I just hope he lives long enough to explain what the hell is going on.”

The front tire bumped over a huge pothole, and Tristan groaned.

“Pete,” he muttered.

“What?” I said.

Kevin turned in his seat, his dark eyes alarmed. “What did he just say?”

“Pete…killed Nadia,” Tristan whispered hoarsely.

Joaquin nearly drove over the curb at the north end of town, but he turned the wheel at the last second, sending me slamming into the door. Tristan started to roll off the seat, but I grasped his shirt and steadied him before he could fall.

“Where the hell is Pete?” Kevin demanded.

“He’s in the other car!” I said.

“Call them,” Joaquin demanded, slamming on his brakes in front of the police station. “Do it now!”

Kevin fumbled for his walkie-talkie. “Lauren! Come in! Is Pete with you? Over.”

Joaquin was out of the car and storming toward the Jeep when the answer came.

“No. Why? We thought he was with you. Over.”

In the side mirror I saw Joaquin brace his hands on the top of Bea’s Jeep and bow his head. I looked at Kevin, my heart sinking into my toes. “Do you remember seeing him in the room at the house?”

He shook his head. “No. Do you?”

I closed my eyes and took a breath, cursing my own stupidity. But how could I have known? There was no way I could have known what we were going to find, let alone that one of our friends was the perpetrator. “He left the door open behind him. I thought he did it to keep from making noise.”