Page 97 of The Unknown

“But she could ruin it!”

Violet nudges past her to stand directly before me. She’s not smiling, but she doesn’t look angry, either. Her expression is one of bemusement. Like she’s curious to discover what happens next.

“Marin already knows too much,” she says, addressing the others but looking only at me. “Now we need to tell her the rest. She deserves to know everything.”

I just looked out the window! It’s not the Darkness outside, tapping on the glass. It’s Mrs. Semple!

She’s at the window, clutching a small book to her chest and tap-tap-tapping, trying to coax me outside.

But I’m not sure it’s the real Mrs. Semple doing it. It might look like her and act like her and even sound like her, but it might be the Darkness, trading that horrifying image I saw in the parlor for Mrs. Semple.

Wait! She’s moved to the door again! Not scratching. Pounding.

Throwing herself against the door until it rattles and shakes and—

Now it’s giving way!

Dear God, it’s open!

Mrs. Semple stands in the doorway, begging for my attention. But I can’t look at her. I won’t! I’ll keep writing it all down so that if anything happens to me, there’ll be a record of it. Someone needs to know everything that happened here.

“It’s time, Daisy,” she’s saying. “Time to follow the light.”

But I don’t want to! I’m so scared and so confused. Especially now that the Darkness is rising like a cloud in the downpour behind her. It looks like a storm within the storm, roiling and churning, taking the shape of

Twenty-Six

Standing before Violet, I can’t help but note the parallels to Daisy’s diary. That final entry, its last few pages ripped away just as Mrs. Semple and the Darkness entered her cottage. Now here I am, facing my own Mrs. Semple, about to get answers.

What will happen to me after that, I have no idea.

“Let her go,” Violet says.

“She might run,” Susie says.

“She won’t.”

As Heather and Julianne release their grips, Violet gives me a sharp look, daring me to try to escape. I don’t, even though my legs shimmy, itching to flee. I’m clearly outnumbered.

“You’re confused,” Violet says in what has to be the understatement of the century. “I’m sorry for causing that.”

She doesn’t sound sorry. Her voice contains a hint of smugness, as if she’s pleased with herself for fooling me so completely. They all did. I know that without them having to say a word.

“All of it was fake,” I say, the realization leaving me breathless. “The séance. Azra. The disappearances. None of it was real.”

“Maybe it was a hundred years ago,” Violet says.

“But not now. Everything strange that’s happened on this island was done by all of you.”

Violet nods. “With an assist from Loretta and Brad, of course.”

That’s partial news to me. By this point, I’d assumed Loretta was part of whatever the hell is going on here. It’s the only reason I could think of for why she’s been gone so long without sending word of her whereabouts or someone to check on us. As for Brad, I truly thought his illness had been real.

“He faked that?” I say, picturing him writhing on the ground as Heather gingerly explored his abdomen.

“I’m not a doctor,” she says now. “But I’ve played one on TV.”

My head starts to spin as I realize—far too late—that all of them have been acting this whole time.