Shimmer (Riley Bloom #2)(29)

Suddenly, I had something that was missing before: a strong belief in myself and the promise of a future I hadn’t dared to even think about.

Because if what Bodhi said was true, I just might get to experience my biggest dream yet: that of being thirteen.

But first, we had some serious business to attend to.

Each soul was different. No two were alike. Some were angry with themselves, some were angry with others, while some had lived lives so horrendous it was truly impossible to fathom.

Still, I wasn’t there to judge: I was merely there to provide some relief. So I continued to make my way through the ranks, thinning the crowd significantly, until I stopped to take a good look around and was amazed to find the world had been dwindled down to Bodhi, Buttercup, Prince Kanta, and me.

To say I was thrilled to see the prince again would be putting it mildly. Though I’d tried not to think too much about it, tried to stay focused on the soul at hand, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been pretty disturbed by his absence.

But when I tried to introduce him to Bodhi, I realized they’d run into each other just a little earlier, around the time the walls really started to close in and they’d bumped right into each other.

And though none of us actually said it, I knew we were all looking for Rebecca. Her world had shrunk to the point where there was only one place left to hide—in the big yellow house, a manifested replica of the one she grew up in.

I stared at the mansion, unsure if we should make the first move and go get her, or wait for her to come to her senses, acknowledge her defeat, and find her way outside to wave her white flag.

But when Bodhi mentioned tearing the house down in order to get to her, I had another idea.

I slipped right in front of them and made my way in, swiftly ascending the stairs with my friends right behind me, knowing exactly where I’d find her since I’d already lived the experience.

I went straight for the closet. And while I admit, for a split second I considered manifesting some kind of facade that looked just like her father, knowing that would certainly lure her right out, in the end, I decided against it. Partly because it just didn’t seem right—it seemed cruel and unkind—and partly because I really had no idea how to do that (though I made a mental note to ask later).

I paused before the door, glancing over my shoulder to see the prince and Bodhi nodding their encouragement, while Buttercup thumped his tail against the floor.

Then I grabbed hold of the knob and yanked the door open, my eyes narrowing as they adjusted to the dimness, spying nothing more than the tips of her shiny brown boots, the hem of her flouncy dress, and the stray paw of the dog she clutched to her chest, until I moved all the old hanging clothes aside and could gaze upon the rest of her.

Our eyes met. And for a moment, I was sure I couldn’t go through with it. But the thought was quickly overcome by something I can only describe as a thought wave—this big, wonderful swarm of love and support that came from my friends.

Strengthened by the way it swept right over me, pooled all around me, I looked at Rebecca and said, “It’s over. Everything’s over. You’re the only one left, and now it’s time to come out.”

But if I’d had any illusions it would be anywhere near that easy, well, I quickly got over them.

Rebecca wasn’t going anywhere. And somewhere in the midst of all her yelling and cursing and ranting and raving, she’d told me as much.

“He’s not coming,” I said, deflecting each verbal blow, letting it just whiz right past me. “Your father is gone. He moved on a long time ago. Which means there’s really no point in reliving all this.”

She scooched back even farther, clutched her dog tighter, and kicked at me with her boots. And when it was clear I wasn’t going anywhere, when it was clear that none of us were, she did the unthinkable.

She let go of her dog and sicced him on Buttercup.

I screamed.

I couldn’t help it.

The sight of that beast charging my dog caused me to lose all my focus.

But luckily, I had backup.

Backup that wasn’t the least bit fazed by any of it.

And no, I’m not referring to Bodhi, or even Prince Kanta as I definitely heard them suck in a fair amount of air—I’m talking about Buttercup.

My sweet yellow Lab who, seeing the dog now grown to one hundred times his size, equated it with the game of fetch he’d been playing earlier, the game that started all this. Manifesting a lime green tennis ball, just like the one we’d been using, he sent it bouncing toward the door, down the hall, then barked and wagged his tail harder as he watched the hellhound chase after it.

The last thing I heard as Shucky ran down the stairs and out the front door was the sound of Rebecca screaming, “Nooooooo!” when she realized her dog, thanks to mine, was now on the other side of her globe.

We tried to cajole her, tried to convince her to join him, but she refused. Even after we’d stripped away the closet, the house, and tried to show her just how quickly her world had shrunk down, that besides the three of us, she was the only inhabitant left, she still resisted the truth.

Choosing to fight back by manifesting all manner of hateful, anger-making memories along with every natural disaster she could think of.

But we remained calm, focused, and united—each of us happily residing in the small, quiet space of silence she could no longer take from us.