The scream came from the back of the bar at 10:16 p.m.
Mara turned immediately.
For a few seconds, no one seemed to understand what had happened. The music was off, half the room had already been evacuated, and the few people who remained stared at one another beneath the dim emergency lights.
Then a second scream tore through the room.
—Fire!
Mara ran.
A thin stream of smoke escaped from an opening in the ceiling near the bathrooms. There were still no visible flames, only an orange glow appearing and disappearing above the ceiling panels.
Elliot appeared behind her.
—Shit.
—Keep getting everyone out.
—We’re already—
—Everyone, Elliot.
He didn’t argue.
Maybe he’d finally understood that this night was no longer about deciding whether Mara Vale was crazy.
Cloe appeared on the other side of the bar.
—There are two people in the stockroom.
Mara turned to her.
—Then tell them to get out.
—I’m trying.
A young waitress appeared, coughing, through the side door.
—Michael’s still in there.
Cloe was already moving in that direction.
Mara grabbed her arm.
—No.
Cloe looked at Mara’s hand.
—He’s trapped.
—The firefighters will be here.
—How long?
—Cloe.
—How long?
Mara didn’t answer.
The smoke was thickening rapidly.
Cloe yanked her arm free.
—Let go.
—You’ll get trapped behind that bar.
The words came out before Mara could stop them.
Cloe froze.
—What?
The vision returned with unpleasant clarity: blood on Cloe’s face, smoke, fire tearing through the ceiling.
Mara looked at the clock.
10:17 p.m.
One minute.
—You need to get out.
—Mara, Michael—
—It doesn’t matter.
Cloe stared at her.
Her expression changed instantly.
—Don’t say that.
—I meant that—
—I know what you meant.
—He’ll get help.
—And if he doesn’t?
Mara felt the old irritation taking shape, that comfortable certainty that she had more information and therefore should have the final say.
—I know what’s going to happen.
—No. You think you know.
—I’ve already seen it.
—And I’m not going to leave a guy to burn in a stockroom because a woman I met four hours ago had a vision.
—You met me four hours ago—Mara corrected her, almost without realizing it.
Cloe frowned.
There was no time.
The ceiling creaked.
They both looked up.
10:17 and forty seconds.
—Get out—Mara ordered.
Cloe didn’t move.
Mara clenched her teeth.
There were dozens of ways to force her.
She could call Elliot. She could drag her out. She could block the passage and wait until Cloe gave up.
That was exactly what she would normally do.
Because she was right.
Because Cloe would die.
Because that should end any argument.
Then she remembered her sister.
You decide what everyone needs to know.
And, worse, she remembered her own answer.
I was trying to protect you.
Mara looked at Cloe.
A woman who didn’t know who she was.
A woman who nevertheless refused to abandon someone who was trapped.
—Where’s the stockroom?
Cloe hesitated.
—You were literally forbidding me from going three seconds ago.
—I changed strategies.
—Is that an apology for lawyers?
—It’s the closest you’re going to get today.
Cloe pointed toward the side passage.
—That way.
—Then we’ll go together.
—I thought I was going to die.
—It’s still an extremely inconvenient possibility.
Cloe almost smiled.
—You’re a very strange person, Mara Vale.
Mara looked at the clock.
10:18 p.m.
Nothing happened.
No explosion.
No wave of fire tore through the ceiling.
Only the alarm, the smoke, and the sound of sirens drawing closer outside.
Mara felt a cautious sense of relief.
The time had passed.
Maybe she’d changed it.
Maybe, for the first time, reality hadn’t found another way.
—Let’s go—Cloe said.
They entered the hallway.
The stockroom was behind the kitchen, separated from the main room by two fire doors.
The first one was open.
The second wasn’t.
Someone was pounding on the other side.
—Michael!—Cloe shouted.
—I’m here!
Mara tried the doorknob.
Locked.
—Why?
—The shelf fell!—the voice answered. —It’s blocking the door!
Cloe slammed her shoulder into it.
The door didn’t move.
—This works much better in movies—Mara said.
—Got any better suggestions?
Mara looked around.
Fire extinguisher.
Hose.
A small metal cart used for boxes.
She grabbed the cart.
—Help me.
They rammed the door together.
Nothing.
Again.
The wood gave a few inches.
Smoke escaped through the opening.
Cloe began to cough.
—Again.
On the third attempt, something fell on the other side.
The door opened wide enough.
Michael was on the floor, his leg trapped beneath a metal shelving unit.
—Oh my God—Cloe said.
Mara went in first.
—Don’t step there.
Part of the ceiling was wet.
Water ran down a light fixture.
Electricity and water.
Excellent.
Mara flipped the switch on instinct.
Nothing changed.
The main power had already failed.
Cloe knelt beside Michael.
—Can you move your leg?
—No.
Mara grabbed the shelving unit.
—On my count.
Cloe positioned herself on the other side.
—Three?
—You normally start with three.
—Some people start with one.
Mara stared at her.
—What kind of psychopath starts with one?
Michael let out a nervous laugh that turned into a cough.
—Can you two argue about this later?
—Three—Mara said. —Two. One.
They lifted.
The shelving unit barely moved.
Michael screamed.
—Again.
—Mara—
—Again.
This time Cloe didn’t argue.
They strained together.
The metal rose a few inches.
Michael pulled his leg free.
—Now!
He managed to crawl away.
Mara let the shelving unit drop.
The impact echoed through the stockroom.
—Can you walk?
Michael tried to stand and nearly fell.
—Wonderful—Mara said. —Of course you can’t.
Cloe draped one of his arms over her shoulders.
Mara took the other.
They started back.
Then came the first boom.
Not an explosion.
Something heavier.
Structural.
The floor trembled beneath their feet.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
—Was that in your vision?—Cloe asked.
—No.
—Fantastic.
They reached the hallway.
The main room was almost completely filled with smoke.
A red light spun near the main exit.
Firefighters appeared through the open door.
—Over here!—Mara shouted.
One of them ran toward them.
Michael was pulled from their arms.
Another firefighter pointed toward the exit.
—You two, now!
Cloe obeyed.
Mara took two steps after her.
Then stopped.
Something was wrong.
Not with the building.
With her.
A sensation.
That same invisible pressure that had preceded the last moments on the Tube and in the office.
Mara knew it now.
She couldn’t explain it.
But she recognized it.
Her stomach clenched.
She turned slowly.
The smoke hid almost the entire room.
Empty tables.
Abandoned glasses.
Emergency lights bathing everything in red.
Nothing.
—Mara!
Cloe was at the door.
—Come on!
Mara kept looking.
—He’s here.
—Who?
She didn’t answer.
Her heart began to beat faster.
The man from the Tube.
The man from the office.
Two deaths.
Two appearances.
If Mara was about to die again...
he would be there.
That realization should have made her run.
Instead, it made her search.
—Mara!
—Get out!
—I’m not leaving without you!
—Cloe, for the love of God, just do exactly what I’m telling you for once in your life!
Cloe coughed.
—You have no idea how many times I’ve heard that today!
A firefighter tried to pull her outside.
Cloe resisted.
Mara walked a few steps back into the room.
—Where are you?
The smoke answered.
Nothing else.
Maybe she was wrong.
Maybe the two appearances really were an absurd coincidence.
Maybe the man’s face was simply something her traumatized brain had constructed in the moment of death.
Then a figure appeared behind the glass on the other side of the bar.
Mara stopped.
He was there.
The man stood near the hallway leading to the bathrooms.
He shouldn’t have been there.
The customers had already left.
The employees had too.
That side of the room had been evacuated minutes ago.
Even so, he stood among the smoke and red lights, wearing the same dark overcoat Mara remembered from the train.
He didn’t look injured.
He wasn’t coughing.
He showed no sense of urgency.
He was the only man in a burning building who wasn’t trying to reach an exit.
Mara felt a chill run along her arms.
—It’s you.
He heard her.
She was sure of it.
The distance between them wasn’t great.
Maybe fifteen yards.
The man merely watched her.
—Mara!
Cloe tried to come back inside.
A firefighter held her back.
—Ma’am, you need to get out!
—My friend is in there!
The word cut through Mara.
Friend.
Cloe didn’t know who she was.
Even so, she’d said it.
Mara turned her face away for a fraction of a second.
—I’m coming out!
It was a lie.
When she looked back at the man, he had moved.
Not toward her.
Back.
—No.
Mara crossed the room.
A table blocked her path.
She went around it.
—Wait!
He stopped.
For the first time, Mara could see him without glass flying or a ceiling collapsing around him.
He was older than she had imagined the first time.
Not old.
But there was something in his expression that created the impression of time. As if that face had learned to hide weariness that didn’t match his age.
Dark hair.
Striking features.
Immaculate clothes even in that setting.
And those eyes.
Mara knew that look.
She didn’t know from where.
But she knew it.
—Who are you?
Silence.
The fire crackled above them.
He didn’t look away.
Mara took another step.
—You were on the Tube.
No reaction.
—And in my office.
This time, something changed.
Almost nothing.
A slight movement of his eyes.
Confirmation enough for Mara.
—You know what’s happening.
He remained silent.
—Are you doing this?
The question came out more aggressively than she intended.
Mara expected some reaction.
Indignation.
Amusement.
Anger.
She got none of them.
Only that terrifyingly calm gaze.
—Answer me.
He tilted his head.
The gesture irritated Mara disproportionately.
—Don’t do that.
Nothing.
—You show up every time something happens and stare at me like...
She stopped.
Like what?
Like he knew her?
Like he was waiting?
Like he had seen this before?
The ceiling above them groaned.
The man looked up.
Then at Mara.
For the first time, there was urgency in his face.
He took a step forward.
Mara did too.
—Do you know my name?
He didn’t answer.
But his expression changed.
And Mara knew.
The certainty didn’t come from any evidence she could present in court.
There was no document.
No witness.
No proof.
Even so, it was absolute.
He knew.
—Who am I to you?
The man closed his eyes for a moment.
It was quick.
So quick that anyone else might not have noticed.
Mara did.
That wasn’t the behavior of someone indifferent.
When he opened his eyes again, the mask was back.
Control.
Distance.
Silence.
Mara felt anger rising.
—You can’t keep appearing when I’m about to die and just stand there!
He looked at something behind her.
Mara heard the sound a second later.
Metal giving way.
The ceiling.
She turned.
An entire section of the structure above the bar began to collapse.
Mara ran.
The impact was enormous.
Hot air and dust slammed into her back.
She fell.
For a few seconds, she couldn’t see.
—MARA!
Cloe.
Still near the entrance.
Mara braced herself against a broken chair and tried to stand.
A sharp pain shot through her leg.
She looked down.
A piece of metal had torn through the fabric of her pants, but it didn’t seem deep.
She could walk.
Maybe there was still time.
When she looked back across the room, the man was no longer where he had been.
—No.
Mara searched through the smoke.
Nothing.
—Don’t do this to me.
The words escaped her.
She didn’t know exactly who she was talking to.
Then she saw a silhouette near the side door.
Him.
Mara started after him.
That was when Cloe managed to break free of the firefighter and came running inside.
—Have you completely lost your mind?
—Get out of here!
—You said you were coming out!
—I changed my mind.
—That seems to be a habit of yours!
Cloe grabbed her arm.
Mara tried to pull free.
—I need to get to him.
—Who?
Mara pointed.
—That man.
Cloe looked.
—What man?
Mara froze.
—There.
Cloe squinted through the smoke.
—Mara, there’s no one there.
Mara looked again.
He was still standing near the door.
Clearly.
Impossible not to see him.
—He’s looking at us.
—There’s no one there.
Fear took on another form.
Mara stared at Cloe.
Then at the man.
He had heard her.
Mara could tell by his expression.
He knew Cloe couldn’t see him.
—What are you?
He didn’t answer.
Cloe pulled on Mara.
—We need to get out.
This time, Mara let her.
Three steps.
Four.
The exit was close.
Firefighters were shouting at them.
Cold air came through the door.
Mara could see the street.
She could survive.
For the first time since it had all begun, there was literally an exit right in front of her.
Then she heard someone shouting from behind the bar.
It wasn’t the man.
It was Elliot.
—Help!
Mara stopped.
Cloe did too.
—No—Mara said.
Cloe looked at her.
—Elliot.
—The firefighters are here.
—He’s over there.
—They’ll get him.
Another scream.
Mara closed her eyes.
This was ridiculous.
They had already gotten Michael out.
Evacuated dozens of people.
The vision had changed.
Cloe was alive.
She was only a few yards from the door.
She could leave.
She should leave.
—Stay here—Mara said.
Cloe almost laughed in disbelief.
—You just spent an hour trying to stop me from doing exactly that.
—I know.
—And now you’re going back in?
—I know.
—You’re a fucking hypocrite.
Mara looked at her.
There was no argument to make.
—Yes.
Cloe looked genuinely surprised.
Maybe it was the first time that night Mara had answered without trying to win.
—Stay here—she repeated.
Cloe started to say something.
Mara was already heading back.
Elliot was behind the bar.
A lighting structure had fallen on top of him.
Mara’s vision.
Cloe should have been there.
But she wasn’t.
The place was right.
The victim wasn’t.
Mara knelt down.
—Can you feel your legs?
—Yes.
—That’s good.
—This is really heavy.
—That’s less good.
She tried to lift the structure.
She couldn’t.
A firefighter appeared beside her.
—Step back!
Mara obeyed.
Another firefighter came to help.
Together, they lifted enough metal to drag Elliot free.
Mara grabbed his shoulders.
—Now!
He got out.
The firefighter carried him away.
—You too!
Mara started after them.
A deep rumble passed through the building.
It wasn’t coming from the ceiling.
It was coming from below.
The firefighter stopped.
—Run!
Mara ran.
She reached the middle of the room when the floor split open.
Not completely.
A huge crack tore across the floor.
Tables toppled.
Bottles fell from the shelves.
The air filled with glass.
Mara lost her balance.
The door was less than thirty feet away.
Cloe screamed her name.
And the man was beside her.
No.
Not exactly beside her.
Behind her.
In the rain.
Outside the bar.
Mara could see him through the open door.
Cloe couldn’t.
He watched.
Again.
The difference was that this time, Mara felt more than fear.
She felt fury.
She got to her feet.
The structure beneath the floor began to give way.
Mara walked toward the exit.
Every step was difficult.
—MARA!
Cloe held out her hand.
Mara did too.
Fifteen feet.
Twelve.
The man didn’t move.
Nine.
Mara looked straight at him.
—I’ll find you.
He remained motionless.
Six feet.
His expression changed.
Mara already knew that sadness.
But now there was something else.
Fear.
Not for himself.
For her.
—Mara!—Cloe screamed.
Her hand was so close.
Mara reached out her own.
Their fingers almost touched.
Then the floor gave way.
Cloe tried to grab her.
She missed by inches.
Mara fell.
The lowest basement level wasn’t deep, but metal, concrete, and fire waited below.
The fall knocked the air from her lungs.
She slammed into something.
The pain came immediately.
She tried to move.
She couldn’t.
Above her, Cloe screamed.
Mara opened her eyes.
The opening in the ceiling showed part of the destroyed room.
Smoke.
Lights.
Faces.
And him.
The man stood at the edge.
Looking down.
Mara didn’t know how he had gotten there.
It didn’t matter.
—You...
Breathing hurt.
He watched her.
—Why?
No answer.
Mara tasted blood in her mouth.
She smiled, though there was nothing funny about it.
—You’re... annoying.
For a fraction of a second, something almost unbelievable happened.
The corner of his mouth moved.
It wasn’t exactly a smile.
But almost.
And that enraged Mara even more.
—Next time...
She had to stop to breathe.
He remained completely still.
Mara closed her eyes for a second.
When she opened them again, he was still there.
Waiting.
She gathered the little air she had left.
—Next time, you’re going to answer me.
The man tilted his head slightly.
It wasn’t a promise.
It wasn’t agreement.
But there was something almost provocative in the gesture.
As if they had had this conversation before.
Mara wanted to ask him again who he was.
She wanted to ask why Cloe couldn’t see him.
Why he seemed to know when she would die.
Why he looked at her that way.
But a different question came first.
Simpler.
More frightening.
—Did you already know me?
This time, his reaction was impossible to hide.
His mask failed.
For only an instant.
Pain.
So deep that Mara forgot her own.
Then the fire reached something on the level below.
The explosion illuminated his face.
Mara saw his lips part.
Maybe he was finally going to speak.
The sound never came.
Darkness came first.
And Mara died for the third time.