The Eighth Gate

25 | This Fragile Being

“I-If he w-were dead I-I’d be able t-to see him,” she managed out, hating the way her lips parted to say the word dead, hating the way she had to choke it out of herself. Guilt was a heavy weight pressing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. “Wouldn’t I?” she gasped. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” Noah agreed impatiently. “Well. I think so. I’ve been able to see spirits like me so far; I don’t see why Mason would be any different.” He added, “Mary, you need to get out of this water. Your lips are turning blue; you can catch hypothermia.”

“N-no,” Mary whispered, keeping her eyes trained down to the angry water as she went in deeper. Now it reached a little bit above her waist; her legs were aching from the bitter temperature. Was this how Mason had spent his final moments? Submerged in this sea of melted ice, tossing and rolling and turning against the sand below water, swallowing gulps of salt and ocean as the world around him was consumed by darkness?

“Mary—“

“I said no!” she screamed through her tears. “It’s my fault he’s in here; I’m the one who left him alone by the water. The least I can do is find his stupid body!”

“Mary. Mary, stop,” Noah insisted as she clawed and splashed at the water, as if she could dig through it and uncover Mason’s pale, blue-lipped body, similar to the way his sister looked.

Avery. At least they would be together now.

“Mary, are you listening—whoa.” Noah’s voice suddenly became hushed and curious, perhaps even alarmed. Mary ceased her useless, compulsive efforts and looked at him. He was gazing beyond her, at something to the far left of the cove, even further than its wall. “I think I saw something over there. On top of that big, flat rock.”

“W-what?” Mary swiveled around, the water swishing at her waist. She saw it then. Situated a bit further back from the leftmost wall of the cove was another wall that ran out further into the water, acting a part of the larger Lock-and-Key bay. It was near this particular wall that a plateau of rock appeared to be floating on the choppy water like a stage. On it were two people, a pair of silhouettes against the moonlight.

“Stay here; I’ll go check it out.” Noah almost disappeared when he added, “Wait, first, please, get out of the water. It’s a miracle you haven’t gone under already. Then I’ll go check it out.”

Mary did as she was told as quickly as she could manage with her numb, sore legs. The force of the waves pushing her to the shore made it easier; it was as if the ocean was just as eager for her to get out as she was.

Soon she was a trembling mess on the sand, crawling out on her hands and knees. Noah grunted with approval and disappeared. He was gone for at least five minutes, during which time Mary managed to compose herself enough to stave off the oncoming panic attack that was tugging at nerves her earlier. Her tears had stopped, but she was still freezing cold. She shrugged her trench coat back on, thankful that she’d at least had the foresight to take it off before she entered the water. Its thick material warmed her upper body, but there wasn’t much she could do about her legs except roll up her soaked jeans and use her coat to soak up the moisture clinging to her bare legs. Mary was in the middle of stuffing the water bottle she’d gotten for Mason into her bag—just the sight of it made her heart ache; she hoped Noah would come back with good news—when Noah appeared, as if called upon by her thoughts.

She stood up, brushing off sand. “Well?”

The look on Noah’s face was not one she had been expecting. Mary had been prepared to see his features glowing with relief, or darkened with disappointment and grief. But right now his expression was a rather peculiar mix of embarrassment, confusion, and discomfort.