Chapter 25
The concrete under Vin’s feet changed over to smooth, heavy wood. The thudding echo of his footfalls, a raised walkway. Wind tangled his hair and snapped playfully at his shirt. The familiar, wet scent of lakeside—algae and the undercurrent stench of dead fish and discarded hot-dog wrappers, stale popcorn, and sunscreen. The shrill cries of seagulls squabbling over the remains of someone’s cracker box. From some distance, a street busker played violin with certain sweetness. Vin stopped, hand on Beau’s arm tightening.
“Seriously,” he said, “can I take the blindfold off yet?”
Beau hummed thoughtfully. “Just a little farther.”
Vin wobbled uncertainly. He knew he had to be on a dock, or pier, and he wasn’t entirely comfortable not knowing where the edge was. Beau, well, surely
