The following morning, before classes had even started, Emery's parents took her into the school counseling center. Unbeknownst to her, they'd set up a meeting with the crisis counselor to discuss what had been going on and whether Emery was in some way "at risk," as the counselor had put it. No one had said what she might be "at risk" of, but that didn't seem to deter those three adults from sitting in a room and discussing Emery as if she wasn't just right outside the office, eavesdropping. She loved her parents as much as any teenager loved their parents. They had always been there for her, and they'd always seemed to show the right amount of discipline and lenience. But as Emery sat there listening to their conversation, she realized that her parents were far more attentive than she'd given them credit for.

"Her grades have been dropping for a few weeks now, and she's been having panic attacks again. She had one last Friday that kept her in the hospital overnight. She's just seemed overall agitated."

"And she's been sneaking out at night," added her father. "It's been happening for some time, but we're afraid that she's gotten involved in risky behaviors."

Emery was shocked, but she could hardly disagree. She had been involved in some risky behaviors, though all of them had been due to Cathbad.

The counselor, whom Emery knew to be a short, bespectacled man who always wore bow ties despite being about twenty-five, sounded a little unsure when he asked, "And so what do you hope to accomplish with me this morning? What is it that I can help you with?"

In the brief silence that followed, Emery could picture her father--a rather tall and, if the occasion called for it, foreboding figure with a thick gray head of hair and deep-set eyes, a slight mouth and a scruffed chin--eyeing the counselor with annoyance. "We need to know she's safe, here."

"Well, of course she's safe--"

"I don't think you understand," interrupted her father. "It has come to our attention that some person has tried to interact with our daughter. This young man does not attend your school; he has sneaked onto the premises at least twice in order to stalk her, and nothing has been done about it."

Emery clapped her hands to her mouth in shock. How could they know about Cullen?

"Are you sure?" The counselor's voice wavered, no doubt taken aback. "We'll need to get our officer to review camera footage--"

"Don't bother. Just speak with our daughter and see if you can help us understand what's going on. We're concerned, and she hasn't spoken to us of her own accord."

"You know how teenagers are," Emery's mother added, softer than her husband. "We've learned with our daughter that when we push, she pushes back. So we thought perhaps you'd have a little more luck with her."

There were sounds of chairs being pushed back, bodies rising. "W-wait!" the counselor chirped. "I-I don't know exactly what you think I can do, here! It'd be best if you stayed and--"

At that moment, the door opened, and Emery stood as her parents exited. Her father placed his hands on her shoulders and gave her a sincere sort of look, and her mother gave her a hug and a "Have a great day, dear," and then they were off. Emery watched them go and wondered whether she could sneak out after them, but the counselor popped out of the door behind her and asked her to step into his office.

With a sigh she hoped was audible, the girl picked up her backpack and went into the room. It was decorated with way too much aspirational paraphernalia. She took a seat in one of the chairs before the counselor's desk, wondering which of her parents had sat in it before her, and waited for the inevitable display of concern.

"I'm sure you must know why your parents have asked me to speak with you," the man said. Emery looked for a nameplate, and he must've noticed, because he added, "You can call me Jeff."

She hated when teachers asked students to call them by their first names. She didn't want to be this man's friend. "I don't know why," she lied, deciding to say as little as possible.

"They're worried about you, Emery."

The man settled into his own chair, and he looked taller than she'd imagine he'd look sitting down. Emery found herself wondering whether he'd stacked a few books on his chair and smirked at the image.

"Is that humorous?"

He didn't ask it rudely but inquisitively. "No," she replied. "I'm sorry. I was just thinking of something." Her shoulders slumped. "Look, Jeff, I'm fine. I'm not doing anything dangerous. Can I go back to class?"

"I think we'd better have a brief chat, just to clear some things up. It won't take more than a minute. Now, the first and most important item is whether someone has been entering this campus to, to speak with you, or be near you--for any reason. This would be a person who does not attend school, here."

Emery most definitely wasn't going to discuss Cullen with Jeff. "Not that I know of."

"Hm. Your parents seem to think otherwise."

"If someone was here that wasn't supposed to be, I didn't know it." That was true enough; Emery hadn't known Cullen wasn't a student at the time. "And if anyone looks suspicious to me, I'll let someone know." She sure would. She'd let Tess know.

Jeff appeared satiated, but he wasn't done with her. "They're also worried that you're struggling. I've looked at your records, and I can't say your parents are wrong. Your grades have declined. I've also talked with your teachers, and they tell me you've been distracted and withdrawn in class. You aren't engaged."

How could she explain any of that without talking about Adam? Hadn't her teachers all been giving her time to adjust? Hadn't they been showing her compassion? But none of them would remember Adam, now. Her despondency would look strange to them. What could she tell this man to get him off her back? "I--I had panic attacks, when I was a kid. I think some of the pressures of school are just getting to me a little. But I'm fine. I promise. I had a couple of absences, but I'll get my grades back up. My parents just worry a little too much, sometimes."

The counselor contemplated her a little too long before finally agreeing to let her return to class. Emery could tell he wasn't done with her, that he'd try to check back in, or that he'd call her parents to report whatever it was he thought he'd learned about her. But at least she could get out of his office.

Everyone else was already in class as she walked down the hall toward her locker. She'd been given a pass, so she had some time to kill before she absolutely had to be in first hour. Nobody would look too closely at the time on the pass, anyway. Emery wished she could just head to a door and leave the building. This was the last place she wanted to be. Cearnach was at home in the she-shed, her parents were beginning to grow worried, and Charlie was somewhere in this building--she knew she'd have to face him at some point, and she just didn't know what she'd say when she did. Not only that, but Cathbad was going to leave, maybe already had left, and though the threat of those monsters had faded a little, Emery knew they were still out there. How could she pay attention to school with any of that on her mind? Leaving the building was so tempting . . . and yet, the school would notice it. They had eyes on her, now. They'd call her parents, and then her parents would become even more worried, and she'd be grounded, or they'd watch her . . . she couldn't afford to be supervised.

When she turned down the hall to her locker, Emery felt her mind begin to cloud. The sensation was slow, but with each step, she became more certain that the hallway was tilting, and she had to reach out a hand to steady herself against the wall. Why were the lockers twisting, shimmering . . ? She had to stop walking altogether and close her eyes, begin taking deep breaths. This didn't feel like what had happened at the football game; she couldn't remember being so lightheaded. Even with her eyes closed, the world blurred, and she was afraid of fainting, but then suddenly, Emery opened her eyes again, and her vision had cleared. What she saw, however, was no longer the too-bright, over-waxed hallway of her highschool; she saw before her an ancient wooden bridge. It seemed as if she herself stood atop a cliffside coated with heather and sedge and other coarse grasses, and that bridge before her, unsteady and surely about to disintegrate, stretched across a chasm whose depths were shrouded in mist. Terrified, Emery looked across to find that the bridge met its end at another cliffside, though it was dark black, jagged rock void of plant life, and it rose to towering heights. The bridge was easily fifty yards long, but even so, Emery could make out a figure standing on the other end of it, who'd likely just crossed and was about to continue on his way. It was someone whose thick green cloak flowed around him, whose layers of sheepskin and tartan peeked out from beneath, whose deep auburn hair, while mostly tied back, whipped some around his neck and shoulders, and when he turned, he seemed to see her as well, for he paused and stood as if transfixed . . .

The snap back to the hallway was so fast that Emery fell to the floor. Her heart beat wildly.

What had she just seen? Where had she just been?

"Are you all right?" came a girl's voice, and Emery turned and looked up to see one of the students in her grade. "Do you want me to get the nurse?"

Emery shook her head. "No, no. I'm fine. I just had to sit down for a minute."

The girl narrowed her eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Just--just cramps. I'm fine."

Nodding in understanding, the girl helped Emery to her feet and, after checking one more time, left to go do whatever she was in the hall to do.

Emery found her locker and twisted its dial, opened it up and leaned into it. She knew who it'd been, in her dream or vision or hallucination. She knew exactly who it'd been. But how or why she'd seen him, she couldn't say. And where he'd been? She couldn't say that either. The only person who might know was Cathbad, but he was probably gone. There was something between them. Oh, she'd been working hard to deny it since first seeing him, but Cullen had some claim on her thoughts. Not on her heart--of that she was sure. But there was something . . . or she wouldn't have just seen him. And she wouldn't think of him nearly as much as she did. And she wouldn't have been so anxious the few times she'd met him. And she wouldn't have to try so hard to talk herself out of that something being there. But whatever it was, it couldn't be what he'd said. It couldn't! Emery felt no love for him, not even any sort of affection. Why would she have married someone she didn't even like? In fact, if anything, Cullen scared her. His intensity and his assurance and just . . . just the man himself. Even Cathbad said he was volatile and difficult. Why would Emery have ever wanted anything from someone like that?

That was how Natalya found Emery, head stuck in her locker, trying to organize her thoughts by breathing in that dark old-papers smell and looking at the stickers and random papers stuck in there, hoping to calm down enough to get to class.

Natalya placed a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Hey. Are you all right? Erika told me you were here; Ms. Schaefer said I could come check on you."

Emery slowly withdrew her head, re-embraced the bright lights of the hallway. Natalya stood right next to her and actually looked as if she cared. The two of them had forever been in the same friend circle but never particularly close. Natalya had always seemed a little too interested in whomever Emery was interested in. But she looked sincere, now, for what it was worth. "I just . . . I just really don't want to go to class."

Smiling, Natalya laughed a little, shook her head of braids. "I can relate. But if you don't, where will you go?"

There was no clear answer to that question.

"Come on. Walk back with me. We're just doing some group stuff anyway; it's not too bad. You can work with me and Liam."

Emery gently closed her locker and allowed Natalya to lead her away from it. The two walked slowly toward first hour.

"Have you been ok, lately?" Natalya ventured.

She was no Tess, but Emery's defenses had weakened. Maybe she could get a little something off her mind. "A--a friend of mine went missing, and I just wish he were here."

"Who?" Natalya sounded completely shocked, just as Emery knew she would.

"You don't know him," she replied, and that much was true, now. Nobody knew Adam except for her. "But he, he's gone, and I just really miss him."

"Jesus, Emery. That's terrible! Did he go to school somewhere around here?"

"Yeah."

"Did you ever bring him around? Would I remember him?"

"No. And it's just--everything's been kind of crazy since then."

Emery's phone chimed, and she paused to look at it. See you fourth? from Charlie. Not what she wanted to think about. Not after where she'd been, on that cliffside. Had Cullen been in danger? Had he been about to try to climb that formidable black mountain? And why did she even care? But he'd looked right at her . . . he'd seen her there . . . what could that have meant?

"I heard about you two--"

"What?"

Natalya pointed at Emery's phone, which she'd clearly been peeking at. "Are you going to hook up?"

Emery burned. "No. Nothing's going on." She shoved her phone in her jacket pocket, wished that Natalya wasn't there, after all.

"Girl, you don't have to be shy about it. Charlie's prime. I'd take a hit--"

"Shut up."

Scowling, Natalya stopped talking and just stared at Emery. "Are you ok, seriously?"

"Honestly?" snapped Emery, frustrated and unsure how to feel about anything at all. "No. I am not ok. I'm a freaking mess, and there's no way I'm going to class right now."

"So . . . what'll you do?"

"I'm leaving. Can you . . . can you just tell Ms. Schaefer you took me to the nurse? That'll buy me a little time."

Natalya could be a decent friend when necessary. She gave Emery a conspiratorial smile. "Of course. I can do that. But Em--" She caught hold of Emery's backpack before the girl could go.

Emery turned.

Her brow pinched at the middle, her mouth a mild frown, Natalya added, "Really, though. Can you please tell me if you need help? I'm here, ok? Even if I've been a pain in the ass sometimes, I'm here."

Grateful, Emery nodded, and then she shook free of Natalya's grip and headed for the nearest door.