How was I ever going to explain her new reality?

“I’m sorry the news must be delivered in this hasty manner. There’s usually more subtlety involved,” the mayor said. “But under the circumstances, this seems the only way.”

I thought back to the way I’d found out—Tristan telling me on the beach that I was dead, then having Fisher knock me out cold when I wanted to tell my family, and waking up in a basement while the whole group of my new friends explained what I was. Not entirely subtle, but I didn’t feel like arguing the point.

The mayor shook Darcy’s limp hand, then Liam’s strong one, and stepped to the door. “You kids will fill them in, won’t you?” she said to me, Krista, and Joaquin.

Officer Dorn looked as stunned as the rest of us as he turned slowly and followed her from the room. The door closed with a bang behind them.

“Uh, what was she talking about?” Liam asked, his mismatched eyes wide.

“What the hell is a Lifer?” Darcy asked.

“Um…I…” How was I supposed to answer that question, exactly?

“Hello? Rory?” She waved one hand in front of my face. “Care to explain?”

I looked into her green eyes, so like my own and my mother’s, and took a breath. “Darcy,” I said, “I’ve got good news, and I’ve got bad news.”

There was really no other way to begin.

“Are we gonna get to see Mom?” Darcy asked me tearfully.

A lump jammed my throat, and I shook my head. Darcy and I were sitting on the window seat in her bedroom, our hands clasped between us, while Krista and Liam perched on the bed, Fisher hovering near the bottom post. He had insisted on being here for Darcy, so Joaquin had stayed behind at the clinic to take his place with the recovery effort. We had walked back to our house to deliver the news away from the madness, and Darcy had run right upstairs crying after hearing the basics. Both she and Liam had finally calmed down—his reaction had been to try to punch Fisher in the face, which hadn’t gone well. Now Darcy had just asked the question I’d been dreading more than any except for one.

“Mom moved on. A long time ago.” I took a breath, the pain of this hitting me all over again, and sat amazed at how it seemed to hurt worse each time instead of getting better. “So, you believe me?”

She sniffled and looked down. “He killed us, didn’t he?” she asked slowly. “That’s how we died—how we got here. Steven Nell killed us.”

I nodded, tears spilling down my cheeks.

“Oh my god, Rory.”

Darcy flung her arms around me and collapsed. She sobbed, her whole skinny body convulsing as her tears wet my shoulder. I cried as well, feeling the devastation of what had happened to us like a fresh stab wound to the chest. I don’t know how long we sat like that, with Liam, Krista, and Fisher silently, respectfully averting their eyes, but I do know that by the time we were done, I was exhausted. She released me, and I leaned sideways against the window, spent.

“So…wait,” Liam said, speaking for the first time in a few minutes. “You guys were murdered?”

I nodded. “It’s a long story.”

“That’s intense.” Liam’s brow knit. “How did I die?”

“You drowned, man. Undertow got you.” Fisher gave Liam’s shoulder an awkward pat.

“Please. There’s no way,” Liam said. “I’d never drown.”

“It’s the truth,” Fisher said. “If you hadn’t become a Lifer, I would have been your usher, so I saw the whole thing when I slapped you on the back before.”

“You saw my death?” Liam asked, blanching.

“Just one of the many special powers we Lifers have,” Krista said sourly.

“So how did you die?” Liam asked her.

Krista shifted atop the floral bedspread, tugging the hem of her white dress down further over her thighs. “I did something stupid,” she said, pursing her lips.

Liam looked around at the rest of us. “Like drowning?” he said lightly, clearly trying to put her at ease.

“No.” She glared at him. “I wanted to get my ex-boyfriend’s attention, so I took a bunch of pills, but I didn’t want to die.” Her eyes trailed off to the side as if she couldn’t bare to look anyone in the eye right then. “I just…took too many.”

“Whoa,” Darcy said.

“What about you?” Liam asked Fisher. Darcy and I both turned to look at him, curious.

“It was an accident on the football field,” he said. “I laid a hit on this guy, and bam!” He slapped one fist into a flat hand. “Neck snapped. Done.”

Liam whistled, and I looked Darcy in the eye. He’d just relayed that news like he was going over random stats of a game. Darcy blew out a breath.

“So what happened to him? To Nell?” Darcy asked me.

“You don’t remember?”

“I remember now that he was here…but how did he get here?”

I cleared my throat. “Well…I kind of killed him.”

“What?” she blurted.

“You killed a guy?” Liam asked, sliding to the edge of the bed so that his long legs dangled down. “How?”

His eyes were bright—kind of disturbingly bright considering the subject matter. But he had to be a good person to be a Lifer, right?

I turned my shoulder to him and concentrated on Darcy while I told the story.

“I was…well, basically I was dying.” I paused and took a breath, hating the act of remembering this. “But I got his knife away from him and I…”

I trailed off, unable to find a way to complete the sentence that didn’t sound like something from a bad horror flick. I jammed it into his stomach? No. I gutted him? No. Instead, I stared out Darcy’s window at the house across the street. The gray house I’d been obsessed with when we first moved here, certain that someone was watching us from its windows. And, of course, I had been right. Tristan had been watching me. Keeping tabs on the new potential Lifer. A horrible, sour burning spread through my stomach as I remembered the day he’d taken me there—showed me the spot from where he’d watched. The day I’d first tried to kiss him and he’d rejected me.

The house was still now. Dark. Like everything else on this damn island.

“Wow. Rory, can we just talk for a second about how badass that is?” Darcy exclaimed, her face still shimmering with tears.

I flinched, my skin tightening. There’d been a time, not so long ago, when it had felt badass. When I’d felt proud of myself for ridding the Earth of the man who killed fourteen girls and took my family as his swan song. But now, it no longer felt that way.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Are you kidding me? Just think about the giant favor you did for the world,” Darcy said. “Right now there’s some random girl running around playing soccer or hooking up with her boyfriend or shopping with her mom, and she’s only doing it because you offed the asshole who was coming after her.”

“She’s right, you know,” Krista said. “You’re a hero, Rory.”

I tried to smile, but I realized, as Darcy eyed me proudly, why I felt so conflicted. Because when I took Steven Nell’s life, I hadn’t been thinking about the random girls I was saving or even the girls he already murdered. I’d been thinking about me. I’d been thinking about my family and what he’d done to us. And I’d been pissed. I’d slain the man out of revenge, plain and simple. And there was nothing pure or heroic about that. Did I even deserve to be a Lifer?

“What about Dad?” Darcy asked, wiping her eyes and sucking in a loud breath. “Where’s he?”

And there was the question I’d been dreading the most. She remembered him, now that she was a Lifer. A few days ago, when he’d moved on, I’d mentioned his name and she’d looked at me like I was crazy. Now her eyes were filled with guarded hope. I didn’t want to tell her—didn’t need to tell her just yet—about how wrong things were. I decided to keep my answers short.

“He’s moved on.”

“So Mom and Dad are in the Light.”

She didn’t ask it, just stated it. And I didn’t contradict her. My eyes met Fisher’s. He cocked one brow. I shot him a silencing look that I hoped Krista picked up on.