The next day, I wake up stupid early—so early it’s still dark outside my bedroom window—and Marcus drives me to the bus. We don’t talk much on the way there, and when we pull off on the road shoulder that serves as a bus stop, Marcus parks the car without speaking. Outside, the world is gray and misty, quiet except for a few lonely birds chirping, their songs muffled in the fog. We sit in silence for a few minutes—neither of us have had our coffee yet. But then Marcus surprises me by drawing in a big breath, like he’s about to make a speech.
“I’m sorry we can’t do more about the soul trade right now, Maddie,” he says. “I know it’s important to you. It’s important to me too.”
He falls silent, waiting for me to reply.
I want to say it’s okay. I understand, but the words stick in my throat. I get that we have to stay alert and keep Havenfall safe. I get that it’s not likely the Silver Prince has decided to just give up after we chased him back to Byrn, no matter how much we all might hope. But I still haven’t wrapped my mind around the idea of just sitting and waiting for something bad to happen. Thinking about it makes my body fill with nervous energy. Suddenly every cell in my body wants to run, fight something, take action.
The bus to Denver appears over the ridge, trundling stolidly through the morning mist. Marcus turns in his seat to look at me. His face is tired, haggard, the stubble dusting his jaw matching the shadows under his eyes.
“Does your dad know you’re on the way?” he asks.
I nod, and the silence stretches as the bus gets closer. I get the sense that Marcus is waiting for me to reply further, but I don’t entirely trust myself to speak without saying something snarky or giving my plan away. I’ve never gone to visit Mom during the summer before. If Marcus finds out that’s in the cards, he’ll put two and two together and figure out that I’m trying to dig up more dirt on the traders.
“Be careful, Maddie,” he says. “I’ll see you soon.”
The bus lurches to a stop at the shoulder, providing a welcome distraction from the bubble of emotion suddenly swelling in my throat. I lean over to give Marcus a quick hug and then hop out, my backpack with two days’ worth of clothes and snacks feeling weirdly light on my shoulders. I usually don’t come down off this mountain until summer is over. It feels kind of wrong to do so now, like I’m abandoning the inn. I look over my shoulder, hoping to see the shape of it above me on the mountainside, but Havenfall is shrouded in fog.
“Do you have pepper spray?” Marcus calls after me.
I have to swallow a laugh. Whatever dangers might be waiting out there for me, I doubt pepper spray will be much of a weapon against them. But I know Marcus is just trying to be helpful, so I call “Yep” over my shoulder and pat my hoodie pocket where my key chain is. I wave to him as the bus doors hiss open and I climb aboard.
The driver—I think it’s the same old man who drove me to Haven a month ago, though it feels like several lifetimes—smiles at me as I hand him my printed ticket and look down the aisle of the near-empty bus. Only a middle-aged woman sits near the front, sleeping with her head against the window and a backpack full of what looks like camping gear next to her. I find a seat halfway down and wave at Marcus once more through the window as the driver executes a careful, lumbering Y-turn. Then we’re off.
The ride passes in a dazed blur. I only got a couple of hours of sleep last night, so the steady rumble of the bus lulls me quickly into a doze, despite the uncomfortable seat. When I come awake again, the sun has risen and the road leveled out; we’re in the plains again, nearly to Denver. I text Dad an update.
Then, from the bus station in Denver, I grab an Uber to the mobile home park. It’s a splurge I usually wouldn’t make—usually it’s bus or bike or walking—but I feel antsy and anxious to be indoors, to be safe. I remember the sick, sinking feeling that hit me when I first realized the Silver Prince had tricked me, that he was an enemy and I was in danger. Now, knowing that he may have found a way to travel outside Havenfall, it’s as if that feeling has leaked like radiation and poisoned the whole world. I’m acutely aware of an edgy, sharp fear, as if at any moment the Silver Prince might pop out from behind the scrubby bushes along the side of the highway and engulf the car in flames.
That, along with the typical pit in my stomach that I always get on the journey back from Havenfall—ten years of accumulated anxiety kicking in, telling me that soon I’m going to be back at school, back in the routine, the Murder Kid alone and lonely and judged.
Finally, we pull up in front of my dad’s house. My stepmom, Marla, has coaxed the yard that was once just dry dirt and cinderblocks into a thriving vegetable garden. Dad makes decent enough money as a mechanic, but after Nate’s death—what we thought was Nate’s death—and Mom’s arrest, the press came after Dad hard, even though they’d already been divorced for years at that point. It got so bad that he sold his house and traded it in for one he could put on a truck bed, so that whenever someone sniffed out his address, it was no problem to just up and go. But he hasn’t moved for years now. Not since meeting Marla, not since settling down here and establishing a garden, a routine, a life.
The door opens, and there he is. Dad lights up as soon as he sees me, his weathered lips parting in a big grin. He pulls me into a hug, the familiar smell of home cooking and faint cigarette smoke wrapping around me.
“Maddie.” He steps back and holds my shoulders at arm’s length, like always when I get back from Havenfall, and his eyes widen as he takes me in. “You look …”
I blink, unsure what he’s going to say. I know I haven’t gotten taller since he last saw me. Haven’t gotten a haircut or anything. But I do feel different. I feel like everything that’s happened this summer—the Silver Prince, losing Brekken, the Solarian door opening, Marcus falling ill, becoming the interim Innkeeper, blood and violence at Havenfall, Taya, Nate—has changed me on a molecular level. I didn’t realize the change showed on my face, but somehow I’m not really surprised either.
“I’m okay, Dad.” I smile at him, feeling the weight of everything that’s changed since I last saw him.
The realization hits me with a thud. I can’t tell Dad that Nate might be alive. There’s too much to the story he can’t know, since he doesn’t believe in magic or Havenfall or Realms. But it feels wrong to keep that hope from him. Nate was Dad’s family too. His adopted son.
“How was your trip?” Dad pulls my backpack from me and leads me through the house into the kitchen. “Marla had a shift, but she sends her love. And she got pancakes started for us.”
Sure enough, a mixing bowl and pan sit in the sink, and pancakes are piled on a plate on the counter. The kitchen is clean and flooded with sun, and two glasses of orange juice and mugs of coffee sit on the small, weathered table. A familiar haze, mixed nostalgia and loneliness, settles around me as I sit down at the place settings Dad has laid out.
“How’s Marcus?” Dad asks as he busies himself getting pancakes for both of us. He knows Marcus has been sick, but not more than that. “I know I wouldn’t want to come down with anything in that little town. Does Haven even have a doctor?”