The Forgotten Locket (36 page)

The song the river sings is filled with the language of
life
and
love
and
light.

He takes her into his arms.

Being held by him is as soothing as ice on a hot day. As comfortable as silence.

As intimate as a midnight kiss.

This is what they came here to do. To restore the balance. To cleanse and be cleansed. To be united and reunited, bound together by a power that will last beyond time.

He places his hands on either side of her face. His eyes are endless pools of light, shimmering with the glow of newborn stars. His mouth curves in a small, secret smile.

“Make a wish, Abby,” he says.

She thinks about those words for a long time. Does she know what to wish for?

Yes. She does.

She holds it in her mind, looking at it from all angles. Past. Present. Future.

It is a good wish.

Her wish flies from her lips in a language both specific and sure. A chime of
release.
Oh, but there is so much more. She knows it will be years—centuries, even—before the last piece of the wish comes true, but she knows that it will. And she knows that it will be happiness when it does.

When he kisses her, it feels like the first sunrise, it feels like the beginning of her life, it feels like coming home.

Chapter 29

Abby?” a voice summoned me up from the depths of a dream.

The dream was of light. A bright, white, energizing beam of light that seemed to shine straight up from the deepest part of the river and turned the whole world electric.

In the center of the light stood three people I immediately recognized: my mother, my father, and my sister.

They were whole; they were together. The light spilled down the river, washing over them, carrying them downstream. But I wasn’t worried about them. I knew in that strange logic of dreams and wishes that my family was restored to me. They were returning home to their proper place and time.

I opened my eyes to find myself cradled in Dante’s arms, my legs stretched out on the ground. My toes looked oddly far away. I wiggled them to make sure they were still attached. My whole body was filled with light, buzzing with a warmth that felt like white gold.

“The river?” I whispered through lips parched dry as bone. “Is it safe?”

Dante nodded. “Yes, Abby, it is.”

“What about you? Are you safe?”

This time when Dante nodded, tears slid down from his eyes. “Yes, I am.”

I touched one of his tears in amazement. In all the time I’d known him, I had never seen him cry before.

“Thank you,” he said. “For healing my heart. For making me whole.”

“And the you that Zo stabbed in the dungeon . . . ?”

“His heart is whole as well.”

“So, is that it?” I asked as the first hint of exhaustion crept closer. “Are we done? Can we go home now?” Knowing that my family was back where it belonged and that Dante—all of him—was whole was a huge weight off my soul.

Dante smoothed a stray curl away from my eyes. “Almost.”

I looked up into his face. “Let me guess. I still need to go to the dungeon, don’t I?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Dante said with a small grin. “I know I would really appreciate it.”

“Not at all,” I answered, reaching up to wipe away his tears. “In fact, nothing would make me happier.”

• • •

I left the bank and returned to the dungeon. Part of the wish I had made at the beginning of time was to have a second chance to make this moment right.

In the third cell along the wall, right where he was supposed to be, was Dante. No wound on his chest, no scar to cover a broken heart. He was unmarked and untouched. And with the river cleansed and stable, he probably had no idea anything remarkable had even happened. For him, time had simply flowed as straight and steady as it always had.

As I stood in the doorway, my hand on the frame for balance, I thought that Dante looked exactly as he had when I had glimpsed him in the river and urged him to survive by counting. Still young, still innocent—but with an inner core of strength that would shape him into the man he would become past the door, past the bank.

He was still my Dante, forever and always.

My eyes met his, and I felt like the summer sun had crashed into the dungeon, bringing with it light and life and warmth. I was filled with the promise of a future flowing straight and clean.

I held his eyes with mine for one more moment, and then I smiled.

I saw Dante’s knees buckle a little. He clung to the bars, using them to hold himself up. The torn cuffs of his sleeves slipped down his arms and I saw that his wrists were still bare of any chains.

The river clicked into place with a sound like a door closing.

I wanted to laugh and cry and dance all at the same time. It was done. I had seen and been seen.

The river was whole. Dante was saved. And the circle was finally closed.

• • •

“Is it my turn?” Valerie asked Dante as Orlando and I joined them by the fireplace hearth later that night after Alessandro and Caterina had said good night.

Orlando leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest, watching intently.

“Yes, it is your turn,” Dante said gently as he helped her sit in a chair. He knelt in front of her and took both of her hands in his.

I sat next to Valerie, so close that our knees touched. My palms felt cold and sweaty, and no matter how many times I swallowed, I couldn’t quite clear away the cotton in my mouth. Dante said that now that Zo was gone and the river was back to normal, healing Valerie would be easy. I hoped he was right; I hoped she would let him.

“Are you going to sing to me?” she asked, a worried line creasing her forehead.

“No, it’s not a song,” Dante said.

The line deepened. “Is it a story?”

Dante shook his head.

Valerie relaxed. “Oh, good. I have all these songs and stories in my head and I’m tired of listening to them all.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“At least the stories have happy endings again. For a while there, I was afraid they would all end in darkness.” She turned to look at me briefly. “I’m glad the darkness didn’t get you.”

“Me too,” I said.

Dante glanced at me, and I nodded. He took a deep breath and squeezed Valerie’s hands. “I have a poem for you, Valerie. It’s a very special poem. Are you ready?”

Valerie shifted in the chair, straightening her spine and settling her shoulders. Then she tilted her head to the side, first right, then left, like a bird. “Something’s missing.” She frowned. “I’m missing something that belongs to me.”

“What, Valerie?” I asked. “What are you missing?”

“My key.” She twisted around to pin Orlando with a narrow gaze. “I gave it to him.” Untangling her hand from Dante, she held it out toward Orlando. “I need it back now, please. I need to be whole before I can be healed. You do still have it, don’t you? You promised to keep it safe.”

“If I promised, then yes, I still have it.” Orlando reached behind his back and then held his closed fist over her open palm. He spread his fingers. Nothing fell out of his hand, yet Valerie made a scooping motion, bringing her palm directly to her chest and pressing the invisible key to her heart. “Thank you. I feel better already.” She smiled at Dante. “Okay.
Now
I’m ready.”

Orlando leaned forward, his eyes bright with curiosity.

Dante’s voice started out small and soft.

Your heart beats,

The heat now departs.

The light remains to fill your mind.

Valerie closed her eyes, her face smooth and calm.

Your mind rests,

The test now behind

The past is present is future in your eyes.

Dante continued, his words picking up speed and rhythm.

Your eyes clear,

The fear now dies

To return, to hurt—nevermore.

Tears trickled from beneath Valerie’s closed eyes, streaming down her cheeks.

Nevermore to be broken.

Nevermore to be lost.

This poem now spoken

Forevermore pays the cost.

Dante’s voice faded into silence, but the echo of his words lingered in the space like smoke from a blown candle. I could still feel the rhythm of his words thrumming in my bones.

We all looked to Valerie, waiting, watching. She tilted her head down, her hair falling forward over her face.

I held my breath. The silence stretched out until it reached the corners of the room. I gnawed on my fingernail, chanting a one-word prayer in my mind:
Please.

“Dante—” I whispered, but he held up his hand to hold my words. He kept his focus fixed on Valerie.

I glanced at Orlando, but he shrugged his shoulders and remained silent.

Valerie lifted her head. She looked first at Dante, then up to Orlando, then finally at me.

And I could see clearly in her blue eyes the shining light that I had been missing for months. The light of her old self.

“Abby?” she said, her voice trembling ever so slightly. Her tears continued to fall, and when she said my name, my tears spilled over as well.

With a wordless cry, I hugged her to me.

Dante rocked to his feet and stepped back to stand by his brother.

“Valerie!” I said her name over and over. “You’re back. Are you better? You are, aren’t you?”

Valerie nodded. “I missed you so much. It was like I was trapped behind a glass wall and no matter how much I yelled or screamed, no one could hear me or see me or reach me.”

“How do you feel now, Valerie?” Dante asked.

In an instant, she had released me and wrapped Dante in a hug. “Thank you,” she said. “I can’t thank you enough. You are the best River Policeman ever.”

A chill seized my tongue. Even Dante looked a little startled.

Valerie didn’t seem to notice. “That’s what I called you—
before.
Isn’t it?”

“You remember that?” I asked carefully.

“I remember everything,” she said.

“Everything?” Dante repeated. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend for you to.”

“I did.” Valerie patted Dante on the arm. “When you gave me that poem, I felt like there was a moment, there at the end, when I could choose. I could let everything go, start over clean, like none of this ever happened. Or I could remember everything—the good and the bad.”

“There was something good about what happened to you?” I asked in amazement.

She tilted her head in thought. “My dreams were surprisingly vivid, which was kind of nice. And knowing my friends cared enough about me to try to save me—even when I felt like I was beyond saving—is worth remembering. And that moment when I was able to stand up to Zo—that felt really good.” She smiled at me, a vintage, authentic, honest-to-goodness Valerie smile with all her spark and sass. “Given the circumstances, I think I made the right choice, don’t you agree, darling?”

I laughed and wiped the tears from my eyes. “Yes, I agree completely.”

Chapter 30

The courtroom was dark and empty. I shivered and rubbed at my arms. Valerie was the first one to enter the room, but that was because she didn’t have the same kind of memories of this place that I had. Or that Dante and Orlando had, for that matter; they both hung back, hovering close to the walls, unwilling to draw too close to the black hourglass door that stood in the dead center of the room.

Dante’s trial had been held earlier that day; his sentence had been carried out. His future had forever changed.

Domenico had let us into the courtroom, warning us to be quick. Before the door closed, I saw Dante pull Domenico aside, whisper a few words, and then hand off a small packet of letters, which the clerk stashed in his ever-present satchel.

I quickly lit a handful of candles, enough to see by, but not enough to be seen from outside the room.

“This is . . . amazing,” Valerie murmured, her low voice carrying in the quiet room. She peered closer at the door, standing on her toes to examine every corner, every carving, every circle and crescent and star. She looked over her shoulder at Dante. “And you did this? By hand?”

“Didn’t you see it before?” Orlando asked. “When you came through from the other side?”

Valerie shook her head, her fingers hovering over the swirls as though she could read the lines like Braille. “The other times I’ve been around the door, I wasn’t quite myself. Plus, nothing beats the original. It looks brand-new.”