The Dark Light by Sara Walsh Page B

me. His gaze was fixed behind and beyond.
    Cautiously, I turned around.
    Light covered the Ridge. In the center, ribbons of color tumbled through a bright opening. The light widened and stretched. Still it grew—stronger and more vibrant than the night before. It spread to the trees and reached for the sky, a massive gemstone wall eclipsing the night.
    Mesmerized, my gaze fixed on the bright epicenter.
    “He’s in there,” I whispered.
    The threat of Sol forgotten, I saw Jay’s empty room, his computer idle on the desk, his clothes unworn in his closet. There were no more sounds of Jay and Stacey Ann clowning around in the yard. No more thump, thump of the basketball against the side of the house.
    The light covered everything. Was it Heaven? Was that where I’d find Jay?
    As if from a million miles away, I heard Sol yell my name. I didn’t care. All I wanted was Jay.
    Closing my eyes, I walked into the light.

NINE
    T he light vanished. The breeze lifted. Once again, I found myself facedown in the dirt. I must have blacked out. But then I remembered Sol on the Ridge and the fear in his eyes. He’d seen the lights too.
    Disoriented, I pushed myself onto my knees, but got no higher before a hand grabbed my arm. A sense of danger crashed over me and I prepared to scream. The hand on my arm covered my mouth, silencing me before I could shout.
    “Quiet! They’ll hear,” hissed Sol.
    With one hand still covering my mouth, his other gripped my arm so tightly it felt as if his fingers were pressing into the bone.
    Struck with terror, I couldn’t take my eyes off his face. He scanned the horizon. The scent of wood smoke drifted on the air.
    “Don’t make a sound,” he whispered.
    So this was it. Death. Sol didn’t have the sword, but he could easily have a gun or maybe a knife. I knew his secret: He was connected to Jay and those boys. There was nothing left for him to do but finish me off.
    I screwed my eyes shut and tried not to imagine what the end would feel like. A quick stab, a short burst of pain, and then over? Or maybe he’d do something worse—leave me here far from aid, slashed and torn, powerless to stop my life from seeping into the dirt. Somewhere in the blackness, a bell tolled like the death knells I’d read of in Gothic novels. I knew it rang for me.
    But the stab, the pain, the shot never came.
    “We have to move.”
    Stunned, I peeked open an eye. Sol’s hand remained over my mouth. He pulled my body against his chest. “Can you get up?” he asked, his face inches from mine. “Are you hurt?”
    Confusion replaced fear. Sol wasn’t trying to kill me. His eyes were wide, his body tense. He looked as scared as I was. And the way he was holding me . . . it was almost protective . He scanned the darkness, poised, alert. And then it struck me: What the hell was that bell? And if it didn’t ring for me, then why?
    My eyes tracked the path of his gaze. My mouth dropped open behind his hand.
    We were on the Ridge, or at least it looked like the Ridge. There were the same trees and the same grass. Water flowed behind us. But ahead, where the road once ran, the trees were more widely spaced than those that surrounded the Ridge. Distant lights hung between the trees. Unlike the lights that had taken Jay, these were orange beacons like lamplights suspended in darkness. Around them stood the silhouettes of squat buildings. The scent of smoke strengthened. The bell continued to toll.
    Panic surged as I struggled to make sense of my surroundings. There should be farmland and prairie all the way to Onaly! No buildings. No lights. Nothing.
    Mind in meltdown, I pushed away from Sol’s arms and tried to rise. Strength fled from my legs and I toppled back onto my butt.
    Sol grabbed me. He clamped his hand over my mouth again.
    “Mia, don’t!” he said. Slowly, gently, he turned my face to his. “I will let you go, but you can’t make a sound.”
    I stared into his eyes, clinging to his voice as if to a