I'm certain it's because we have no idea what the hell else to do at this point, but once Lily has left, we decide to stroll into town as if my psychiatrist didn't just mysteriously drop dead after leaving me a panicked, largely nonsensical voicemail. I must have missed a memo or something, but Wales has too many hills. Ava had to roll the car down one huge hill to reach this caravan site, yet somehow, we're having to walk down another one to reach the centre of the small seaside town.
We'll be entering the pits of hell at this rate. It's a good thing I've already got myself some connections there. I make this joke out loud as we're passing through a tiny, colourful housing estate, but no one laughs. Instead, Annabel, alongside each one of my friends, turns to me like I just asked them to tuck and roll all the way down to the town we're trying to reach.
We break through a row of houses, and find ourselves atop another goddamn hill. Before I have the chance to whine about it, I spot the seaside, and something bright flickers inside the empty black space that's rapidly replacing my soul. I never see the seaside. We saw plenty of ocean and a few harbours when we were in Scotland and Ireland way back, but not an actual beach with sand and waves and sandcastles and tourist shops and stuff. I wish I could enjoy it.
There's a clear view of the entire town from where we've found ourselves, and it looks like it could fit in the palm of my hand. A blue, metal fence runs along the pavement, twisting with the road as it turns and drops, and it's the sole thing separating us from a steep decline into the rocky ocean below. A small child could easily climb it and jump over, but I don't want to insult Carmen's holiday hometown, so keep my mouth shut.
Once we reach the bottom of this one, I'm relieved to realise we've maxxed out on hills. Then it occurs to me that we're going to have to walk back up all these hills because there's no public bus, train, or anything here, and I swear to God, I nearly start crying. Bloody hills.
The air somehow feels fresher down here, as if the sea salt from the ocean is cleansing it. As we pass through the town, people give us warm smiles and sing-song hellos, and it's rapidly making me consider moving here. Everyone seems so nice, and despite the dire situation we're in, it's giving me a spring in my step.
We explore the town in a state of caution, as if we're afraid that the consequence of not watching our backs for a second will be a non-stop train to deadsville. I'm the least paranoid of the bunch, which is definitely not how it should be, but that's not to say I'm not on edge. Just less so. Besides, now that I'm aware of my ability to screw up a sheep's internal organs, I figure I can transform that into something useful.
Granted, that won't help me much in the ghost department, but it could help in the Connor one. Despite everything, the thought of hurting him--of hurting anyone--intentionally stirs an uneasy feeling in my gut, but there has to be something in it. Maybe I can cause enough damage to corner him, give him nowhere to run. Invite the police to the whole charade, and bam, everyone lives happily ever after. Without Connor, the dark spirits have no direction and no way of organising themselves.
I'd have to figure out how to orchestrate all of this without giving away my I see dead people thing to the authorities, but I can figure that out. We've got time. Sort of. Maybe. I should probably say something about the whole sheep intestines and what not scenario to some--An elbow suddenly wedges itself into my side, and I stumble forward as my mind resurfaces to reality. I blink, but not before Annabel, whose face is needlessly close to my own, flicks my forehead.
"Ow!" I yelp as I rub the space just above my left eyebrow.
I lower my hand from my head to realise we've stopped inside a dessert restaurant. Despite the sun gleaming outside, the ceiling is illuminated by harsh, yellow lights, and the tables here are exclusively fashioned with bright pink booths. I think it's meant to resemble an American diner, but it looks more like a cheap nightclub for under eighteens. I don't even remember walking into the place.
We're grouped together beside the glass counter at the front of the restaurant, and Tom, whose elbow I figure is the culprit of the ache in my side, is staring at me.
"Dairy or non-dairy?" he questions.
What?
"Do you want dairy ice cream," Jamie, who's standing opposite the waitress on the other side of the glass counter, says so slowly and patronisingly that I half expect him to ask me to relay my ABCs. "Or non-dairy ice cream?"
Wait, we're getting ice cream? Score.
"Oh, nice! Do you have mint choc chip?" I ask the girl as I bring my attention to the glass counter.
"Can you eat that as a vegetarian?" Tom asks before the blonde waitress can answer me.
"Fair point. Mint is my favourite animal. It would be wrong of me," I reply, which Tom responds to with an empty look in his eyes.
"Oh." He draws the word out as what I'm saying clicks. "No, for the cow's milk. Can you eat that shit?"
"He's not vegan, it's groovy," Ava interjects, to which I click my fingers, point, and nod at her in confirmation.
I'm hardly vegetarian either, but I don't tell them that. I scan the colourful selection below me, and I'm starting to panic because I'm struggling to make out anything green when I spot what I'm looking for. In-between bubblegum flavour and regular chocolate is mint chocolate chip. I order four scoops. They only make tubs big enough for three, so I pay extra for another small tub.
As we sit down in one of the blindingly bright booths with our food, I realise I've never seen a group of people look so sad while holding ice cream. Ava's frowning as she shovels an impressive portion of chocolate and some sort of exotic pistachio concoction into her mouth, while Jamie's barely touching his single scoop of vanilla ice cream. Of course he'd pick vanilla. Instead, he's staring out onto the street, which is filled with children running around with buckets and spades in hand.
Carmen's picking at her bubblegum ice cream, which leaves Tom as the only other person who doesn't look like he's seriously considering suffocating himself with a frozen dessert. However, his flavour of choice is garlic, so I'm not sure that's a win either. The waitress commented on how garlic is their joke flavour of the week, and I got the impression you're expected to buy one scoop to try between a group for a laugh, then fill the rest of your tub with normal flavours. Tom, however, has joined me in my four scoops, and gone straight garlic. I've got to admire the guy.
"Where have you been all day?" Tom comments as a dribble of ice cream runs down his chin. I raise my eyebrows, to which he says, "as in, you've been real quiet."
"You usually don't shut up," Jamie includes, so I shoot a sarcastic laugh his way.
"Just thinking a lot," I mumble before shoving a spoon of minty goodness into my mouth.
"There's a first for everything, I suppose," Jamie mutters with a snicker.
What an arsehole. He better watch out. I'll screw up his organs. As my eyes flicker to the girls opposite me, both Annabel and Carmen open their mouths.
"I'm fine," I clarify before either of them can ask me the question.
Should I mention the sheep thing? I glance around the table, and when my eyes land on a splatter of ice cream which has somehow found its way to Tom's forehead, I decide against it. Not now, at least.
Once we're done with our ice cream, we potter around town a little more. We explore all the tourist shops, and spend a whole fifteen minutes laughing as Carmen translates a load of rude Welsh phrases engraved into wooden wall hangings in the one. That significantly lifts the mood.
As we pass an arcade, I plead for a chance at some fun, but no one is on my side. Losers. We end up at the beach, which is an acceptable compromise. It's nearing four in the afternoon, but the sun is strong enough for us to sit onto the warm sand without our jackets on.
"I miss the sun," Annabel mutters as she appears beside me with a sigh.
"It's right there," I reply as I nod at the bright orb in the sky.
"I mean the feel of it, you idiot," she snaps.
She can be really mean to me sometimes.
"What?" Carmen asks as she moves from a sitting position to a lying one the other side of me.
"Sorry, Annabel," I explain.
Jamie goes to sit on my other side, but I stop him with a warning that he's about to lower himself onto my dead sister. His horrified reaction makes everyone laugh. Having survived a whole seven or so hours since hearing Lina's voicemail, we've all loosened up a bit, and Jamie's pale, panicked mug is easing the mood even further.
I lower myself to lie down beside Carmen, and shut my eyes as I focus on the sun's rays bathing my skin.
"This is nice," Carmen says quietly after a few minutes.
"Groovy," Ava murmurs in agreeance.
Jamie mumbles something, which I initially assume is an argument, but I think he's agreeing. Tom's snoring, so I take that as a thumbs up from him. I keep my eyes closed as the sound of kids screaming and laughing echoes around us, and slowly, I drown out the voices to concentrate on the ocean. The water laps against the sand, while in the distance, waves are bashing against the rocks I spotted when we were standing on the hill above this town. Tom's fast asleep, and I'm starting to consider joining him.
All six of us don't move a muscle for a whole hour. It's not until Tom wakes up and realises he's not eaten anything beyond garlic ice cream for a whole three hours that the peace is disturbed. Carmen recommends an Italian restaurant a five minute walk away from the cabin, and the rest of us are happy to cater to Tom's restless stomach. We leave the beach, which is significantly quieter than when we arrived, and embark on the hike back towards the caravan site.
It takes Jamie less than ten minutes to start complaining, and by the time we're two thirds up the final hill, Ava is starting to question how much longer is left. Even Carmen, who must be used to the walk, has slowed down a lot. It makes me feel great. I'm almost at my pre-Connor abduction level of fitness. I'm complaining internally, don't get me wrong, but I can hack it.
Instead of turning into the caravan site as we pass it, Carmen leads us ahead until we reach a small walkway to the left of the main road. We take the turning and find ourselves inside a forested area, which is practically asking for evil spirit assault, but within minutes, we emerge from an opening to find the ocean staring straight back at us.
We're standing on the edge of a cliff, and the town we spent the day in is visible in the far distance. Thankfully, the fence in-between us and the drop is a lot more sturdy than the last one. We're in a car park, and to our right is the place we're here for. It looks more like a cottage than an Italian restaurant, but Annabel thinks it's the most adorable thing ever.
"Oh, c'mon, you have to marry Carmen now," she says with glee as we step inside the building.
I don't think she realises we can revisit this place without me being betrothed to someone.
Carmen made a good call. The best call. The food was amazing, and dare I say, the best vegetarian meal I've had to date. Hell, the best meal, full stop. Carmen's sticking to her plans to turn veggie, so I didn't even dare entertain the possibility of coming clean, and we both had the same fancy pasta dish I couldn't pronounce the name of if I tried. In fact, when I did try, everyone laughed at me. They tried to save themselves by blaming it on my accent, but they're clearly all snakes who hate the working class. Down with the bourgeoisie.
Once we've finished our meals, Jamie comes out with an idea so stupid that it makes me spit out my water.
"What time does the earliest train out of this middle-of-nowhere place leave tomorrow morning?" he questions as he leans back in his chair, his eyes on Carmen.
"Why?" Carmen asks slowly.
"I have an exam tomorrow afternoon, so need to get back to--"
"No." Ava cuts him off.
Cue my water spitting.
"What? No, as in, don't go to my exam? You must be joking."
"Hey, you go for it," I say with a shrug. "Would you rather lilies or tulips for your funeral?"
"Shut up," he snaps back at me. "I'm not missing my exam."
"Jamie, whoa, it's too dangerous to be alone, let alone go back to uni alone. Our presence is known there by so many dark spirits now, as well as Connor himself."
I start laughing. This guy is hilarious. He would literally rather risk death than have an academic record below anything other than perfect. I tell him to just postpone the exam, claim extenuating circumstances, pull a sick day, whatever, but he's not convinced. Either way, no way in hell is he leaving here any time soon. Upon realising this, his face turns to thunder.
"I'm going back to the cabin," he mutters the second the bill has been paid.
He's on his feet within seconds, and Tom has to yank at his sleeve to stop him bolting away. Jamie is adamant about leaving, and after a bit of back and forth, he agrees to let Ava follow him back to the cabin. Upon that agreement, Tom joins Jamie by standing up.
"I'm not third wheeling," he explains when I shoot him a questioning look.
"Annabel's here," I explain, "so technically, you wouldn't be."
"Dead people don't count," Tom argues.
Fair enough.
"Rude," Annabel mutters.
She glances around the tables surrounding us, and once she's decided nobody is looking, flings Tom's stained napkin directly at his face. He shits himself, we all laugh, and it's a jolly old time. Soon, Jamie, Ava and Tom have left.
"Sorry about the pasta pronunciation thing," Carmen says to me once the others have disappeared. "I didn't mean to laugh."
"It's fine, I get it. You hate poor people."
Carmen's face reddens. "Shut up, no, I don't! I just--I don't know, it was cute."
"Ugh, gross," Annabel, who's taken Ava's chair beside me, huffs. "This isn't going to be one of those conversations, is it?"
"Okay, firstly," I reply to Carmen, ignoring Annabel. "Cute is gross. We're talking the worst thing to call a guy, and secondly, you hate poor people."
"Fragile masculinity strikes again," Annabel mutters.
"Also, you'll be pleased to know that my sister is an arsehole, and is fully on your side here."
Carmen's smile breaks into a laugh while Annabel smirks beside me. I've never felt more like an underdog. Carmen apologies for pasta-gate again, the sincerity resurfacing in her voice, and I shrug it off. I'm only pulling her leg, anyway.
Despite having paid the bill, Carmen and I end up deciding to buy a dessert. As much as I'd love a few drinks right now, I've got to keep my wits about me. Once we've finished our shared slice of chocolate fudge cake, which was way too small by my standards, we head back to the cabin.
Carmen's hand is in mine as we cut through the forest pathway, and her grip tightens as a bush rustles to our left. When a small bird flies out of it, I laugh at her. She asks me if I'm okay after everything that's happened over the past few days, and I tell her I am. For the first time ever, I actually sound confident, like I'm not just bullshitting her. Because I'm not. We're in a shit situation, sure, but we're not sitting ducks.
I'm not afraid of Connor or his dark spirits anymore. I can handle it. I will handle it. You can't be a sitting duck if you're more powerful than the thing that's chasing you.