THE PARKING LOT BEHIND the hotel was deserted except for a couple of Dumpsters. Walker pulled the car up alongside them and got out. Keira climbed out too, watching as he shaded his eyes from the sun. Beyond the asphalt was an overgrown lot with a faded FOR SALE sign in the middle of it. Past that was a stand of scrubby trees. If they stood on the far side of the Dumpsters, there was little chance they’d be seen.
At least, not by any humans.
“This looks pretty good,” he said.
Keira squinted, trying to see Darkside. “Are we out of the ravine?”
Walker laid his hand on the small of her back, and as the pressure of his touch traveled through her, Darkside sprang into view. Keira gasped and swayed toward him. They were out of the ravine, but barely. With the two worlds layered over each other, it looked like the very back of Walker’s Mercedes was hanging over the lip of the chasm. Keira’s inner ear spun with the sensation of simultaneously being at sea level and forty feet above.
“Sorry. I should have warned you that the view might be a little disconcerting.” Walker slid his hand around her waist, wrapping his arm securely across her back.
“Yeah. Well.” Keira cleared her throat, fighting back the vertigo that threatened to bring her to her knees. “Whatever it takes to find out if my . . . my father’s still alive, right?” The word ‘father’ was incredibly difficult to say. “So, how do I cross?” she asked, changing the subject.
Walker pulled his arm away, and while she managed to see Darkside, the details went fuzzy without his touch. It looked like a watercolor rather than a photograph.
Walker bit his lip. “What seemed to work last night was when you really pictured yourself in your living room—the way it smelled and felt.”
Keira frowned. “But I don’t know how Darkside smells. Not really. And everything looks hazy. I can’t see the details.”
“Well, what can you see, exactly?”
“The ravine,” she said.
“Okay, but what else?” he prompted her. “Describe it to me. Pretend I can’t see it at all.”
She squinted. “There are bushes on the other side of the ravine but they’re tangled and fuzzy. And then there are trees past them. It looks like they’re growing in rows, sort of, and—” Keira jumped as everything came into sharp focus. A sudden wind slapped at her arms.
“Congratulations,” Walker said. “You made it. Welcome to Darkside.”
Keira stared at the trees. “There are . . . what are those three lumps back there?”
“Huts. It’s where the orchard workers live.”
“Will they see us?” Keira asked.
“No,” Walker assured her. “And even if they did, they wouldn’t recognize us. They’re pretty much the lowest rung of Darkling society. They live in the trees, they work in the trees, the only education they get is how to harvest what grows on the trees.”
“That sounds awful,” Keira said.
“Yes and no,” Walker said. “Come on, let’s cross back. I’ll feel more comfortable explaining when I know we can get away if we need to.”
“Oh. Right.” Keira turned so that the wind was at her back. She concentrated on the shiny black curves of the Mercedes, the unpleasant smell that wafted out of the Dumpsters.
“Keep trying,” Walker said.
Keira squeezed her eyes shut. Even though it was barely April in Sherwin, there was a first kiss of heat in the sun’s rays. The back of her neck arched toward that warmth and the faint chirp of a bird reached her ears.
Her eyes popped open. Darkside was gone and the parking lot was back beneath her feet.
“Nice job,” Walker said. “Wanna try it again?”
“No. Yes. I mean, not really, but I know I need to,” Keira stammered. She was shivering violently. She couldn’t imagine how cold she’d be after she went back and forth a second time. “What’s the deal with the hut dwellers?” she asked, stalling.
Walker laughed.
“What?”
“Pretty much all Darklings are ‘hut dwellers’ in one sense or another,” he said. “The Reformers have been in power for . . . sixteen thousand years?” he said doubtfully, his eyes rolled up in thought. “Yeah. Sixteen thousand years. That’s right.”
“You mean—they’re like a separate species? Or an ethnic group or something?”
Walker shook his head. “They’re definitely separate, but what I meant was that everyone else is so far beneath them, we might as well be orchard workers. In a lot of ways, the Reformers are ordinary Darklings. They’re just more important. You remember how I said that the orchard workers’ kids are only taught to be orchard workers?”