“So now you know.” Romy shrugs as Rayne shakes her head. “Our whole story. Everything about us. Do you blame us for choosing to hide?”

I glance between them, unsure what to say. “I—” I clear my throat and start over. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” I glance at Rayne, seeing how she refuses to look at me, then over at Romy who solemnly bows her head. “I had no idea you guys escaped the Salem Witch Trials.”

“Not exactly,” Rayne says, before Romy chimes in.

“What she means is we were never tried. Our aunt stood accused. One day she was revered as the most sought-after midwife, and the next, she was rounded up and taken away.” She sucks in her breath, eyes welling up as though it were yesterday.

“We would’ve gone with her, we had nothing to hide,” Rayne says, lifting her chin and narrowing her gaze. “And it certainly wasn’t Clara’s fault that poor baby died. It’s the father who did it. He didn’t want the baby or its mother. So he did away with them both and blamed Clara. Crying witch so loud the entire town heard—but then Clara made the portal, and forced us to hide, and she was just about to join us when—well, you know the rest.”

“But that was over three hundred years ago!” I cry, still unused to the idea of an existence that long despite my immortality.

The twins shrug.

“So if you haven’t been back since—” I shake my head, the monumental size of this problem just beginning to unfold. “I mean, do you have any idea how much things have changed since you were last here? Seriously. It’s like a whole different world from the one that you left.”

“It’s not like we’re idiots.” Rayne shakes her head. “Things progress in Summerland too, you know. New people arrive all the time, manifesting the things they’re attached to, all the stuff they can’t bear to let go.”

But that’s not what I meant, in fact, not even close. I wasn’t just referring to cars versus horse-drawn carriages, and trendy boutiques versus hand sewn—but more their ability to get along in the world—blending in, adapting, not standing out in the glaring way that they do! Taking in their razor-slashed bangs, their large dark eyes and extremely pale skin, knowing their twenty-first-century make over is far less about a uniform change than a complete and total overhaul.

“Besides, Riley prepared us,” Romy says, eliciting a loud groan from Rayne, and my full attention from me. “She manifested a private school and convinced us to enroll. That’s where these uniforms came from. She was our teacher, coaching us on all the modern ways, including our speech. She wanted us to return and was determined to prepare us for the trip. Partly because she wanted us to look after you, and partly because she thought we were crazy for missing out on our teens.”

I freeze, suddenly grasping a new understanding in Riley’s interest in them—one that’s got far less to do with me, and everything to do with her. “How old are you guys?” I whisper, looking to Romy for the answer. “Or should I say, how old were you when you first arrived in Summerland?” Knowing they haven’t aged a day since.

“Thirteen,” Romy says, knitting her brow. “Why?”

I close my eyes and shake my head, stifling a laugh as I think: I knew it!

Riley always dreamed of the day she’d be thirteen, a bona fide teenager having finally made it to the important double digits. But after dying at twelve, she chose to hang around the earth plane, living her adolescence vicariously through me. So it only makes sense she’d try to convince Romy and Rayne to return, not wanting anyone else to miss out like her.

And if Clara can find the strength, and Riley the hope, in situations so incredibly dire and bleak, surely I can overcome Roman.

I glance between the twins, knowing they can’t stay here on their own or come home to live with Sabine and me, though there is someone who’s quite able and ready, if not entirely willing to lend us a hand.

“Grab your stuff,” I say, heading for the door. “I’m taking you to your new home.”

Chapter Thirteen

The second we step outside I realize we’ll need a car. And since I’m more interested in speed than comfort, especially after seeing the way the twins cling to each other as they gaze around warily, I manifest something that’ll get us there fast and quickly herd them in. Ordering Romy to sit on Rayne’s lap as I get myself settled and step on the gas, navigating the streets with surprising skill, while the twins practically hang out the window, gaping at all that we pass.

“Have you guys been inside this whole time?” I glance at them, never having seen anyone react to the beauty of Laguna Beach in quite the same way.

They nod, never once averting their gaze. Squirming in their seat as I pull up to the gate. Allowing the uniformed guard to peer through the window and scrutinize them, before letting us in.

“Where are you taking us?” Rayne eyes me suspiciously. “What’s with the guards and big gates? Is this some kind of prison?”

I head up the hill, glancing at her when I say, “Don’t you have gated communities in Summerland?” Never actually having seen one myself, but then again I haven’t lived there for the last three centuries like they have.

They shake their heads, eyes wide, clearly on edge.

“Not to worry.” I turn onto Damen’s street and into his drive. “It’s not a prison, that’s not what the gates are for. They’re more to keep people out rather than in.”