Free Oblivion by Kelly Creagh

watching, listening in. She wasn’t sure how to tell Darcy who she was either. That she and Varen had been . . .
    Her shoulders sank, the impulse to speak withering under that expectant stare.
    But then Gwen bumped one of her arms, her bangles clinking as she handed Isobel a folded slip of well-worn paper that she would have recognized anywhere. It was the final note Varen had written her, the one Isobel had found secreted away in the pocket of his green mechanic’s jacket the night she’d learned that she’d left him behind, in the dreamworld.
    Isobel had entrusted the note to Gwen just before Baltimore. And the small scrap of paper still remained her only tangible evidence that Varen had loved her.
    Except . . . he didn’t anymore.
    The scars she now bore, both the inner and outer, were her proof of that.
    Isobel took the note, recalling the instructions she’d given Gwen along with it: that if Isobel failed to return from the dreamworld, Gwen should give the note to Varen’s stepmom.
    Isobel had come home, but she’d done so alone. And that made the suggestion Gwen seemed to be offering, in producing the note at this moment, feel right.
    So Isobel extended the paper to Darcy, who took it with slow, hesitant fingers. Isobel backed away again, pain squeezing the ruins of her heart.
    â€œC’mon,” Gwen said. Slinging an arm around Isobel’s shoulders, she angled her away.
    And as the sight of Darcy, the casket, and the white square of paper left her vision, Isobel felt the sudden lifting of an inward pressure she hadn’t realized was there.
    Because giving up the note forced Isobel to accept the most difficult truth of all.
    That the quiet, strange, brooding goth boy she’d fallen in love with over the span of a beautiful and terrifying October no longer existed. Just as Lilith had said.
    That Varen would have been here, at the grave site. That Varen would have cared that she was too. He would have heard her out.
    But he wasn’t there.
    The boy who had composed the words written on that slip of paper was gone.
    And he wasn’t ever coming back.
    *  *  *
    To avoid being seen pulling into Trenton’s main lot, Gwen chose a parking spot on the side street closest to the door they’d used to sneak out.
    A pair of senior boys lounged against the building, the smoke from their cigarettes rising in coils. Their presence there meant the bell ending third period had already rung. Before Isobel could let herself out, however, the car door’s lock slid down with a harsh clack.
    â€œConfession.”
    Isobel turned her head and saw Gwen watching her with furrowed brow, one hand poised on her door’s lock panel.
    â€œI totally read the note,” Gwen blurted.
    Leaning back, Isobel let her head thud against her seat. Heat crawled up her neck and cheeks. “C’mon, Gwen. I mean, I sort of knew you would.”
    â€œI . . . have to admit,” Gwen said, her words turning solemn, “it made me think for sure that you would come back. With him. That you had to.”
    â€œYeah,” Isobel murmured, watching the two boys stamp out their half-smoked cigarettes. “That was the plan.”
    â€œYour dream last night. About Varen . . . all that stuff in the hall. Do you think . . . I mean . . . is there any way that he could be—”
    â€œI think that you were right,” Isobel said, and felt the flush leave her cheeks.
    â€œA favorite pastime of mine but . . . about what specifically?”
    Isobel’s hand went to the hamsa charm at her neck, her fingers running it back forth on its chain as she recalled how, on the same morning Gwen had given her the amulet, she had also related to Isobel all the known lore surrounding Lilith. That demons operated by luring their victims with false promises, but that Lilith’s treachery and deceit could only