Page 88 of The Unknown

“The fact that we don’t know makes it even more important to have a plan,” I say.

Violet picks up a diary page, scans it, sets it back down. “You talked about Azra following a pattern. Perhaps that’s the key. Figure out the pattern, find a way to break it, and potentially end this whole thing.”

It’s a good idea—in theory. But without those last diary pages, we’re in essence flying blind.

“Has the diary so far provided any clues on how to do that?” Ronan says.

“Not yet.” I sigh, looking to the stuffed peacock on the wall. The way its dust-covered plumage droops from the fake branch reminds me of the clothes currently in the oak. It doesn’t help that bits of those tail feathers match what we’re wearing. The blue of my dress. Violet’s lavender. Even Ronan’s omnipresent neckerchief, the one item of clothing I can’t picture hanging from the tree.

“Ronan,” I say.

The corner of his mouth twitches. “What?”

“You might be the break in the pattern we’re looking for. There were no men on the island when Daisy was here.”

Violet, catching on, adds, “And you’re the only person who hasn’t seen or felt the presence of someone you once knew.”

“Yeah, about that.” Ronan clears his throat, tugs his neckerchief, and turns away. “I might not have been entirely honest when I said I haven’t experienced anything weird this week. I think I might have sensed someone. The first night here, I woke up in the middle of the night and smelled perfume.Herperfume.”

He doesn’t specify who he’s talking about. He doesn’t need to.

“Elise,” I say.

Ronan responds with the smallest of nods. “For a second, it felt like she was right there, lying next to me. Her scent, it was everywhere. And it happened the night after that. And last night as well.”

Violet leans forward, propped up by her elbows. “And you believe it was her?”

“I thought it was,” Ronan says. “That she had somehow found her way here.”

Which I assume means he wronged Elise in some way right beforeshe died. Just like Violet and Julianne did with the people they sensed on the island. And just like I did with Molly.

“Why didn’t you tell us last night?” I say.

“I don’t know. I guess I was embarrassed. It felt too personal.”

“More personal than me talking about seeing my dead sister?”

“I’m sorry about that,” Ronan says. “Had I known what you said during your audition was real, I never would have let you come here. This place. It’s like fucking quicksand, and all of us are slowly sinking under, dragged down by our pasts.”

And we’re the lucky ones, I realize. Unlike Julianne, Heather, and Susie, we have yet to be fully submerged. But for how long?

Settled back in her chair, Violet fingers the locket hanging from her neck, inadvertently mirroring Ronan’s tic. “Maybe our pasts are the way out of this,” she says. “Think about it. Azra might be using the ghosts of people we’ve known and loved and wronged to get to us, right?”

“Well, pretending to be them,” I add, which—again—sounds absolutely batshit insane.

“That will no longer be possible if we make peace with those same people.”

I stare at her, baffled. “Make peace?”

“Yes. With my father and your sister. If we can find closure with them, Azra won’t have any ammunition to use against us. The pattern will be broken.”

It makes a certain amount of sense. Well, as much as anything about this situation can make sense. Yet it prompts two questions, the first spoken by Ronan.

“Where do I fit into all of this? Like Marin said, I’m literally the odd man out here.”

“Maybe not as odd as you think,” Violet says. “If you’re being haunted like the rest of us, there’s no reason to think you’ll be spared. It’s just a question of when. For all we know, you could be next.”

Ronan gulps, leaving me to ask the second question. “Let’s say you’re right and that this will work. How do we get closure with people who are already dead?”