Chapter 25 The Trestle's Trap
"The Bell has chosen Ben and the person trying to save him may be the one who kills him."
The signal came from the coast.
Not from the lighthouse.
Not from the Bell Tower.
From somewhere lower, hidden beyond the black line of rocks where the sea broke unevenly against the shore.
Cass noticed it first not because she knew what it meant, but because something in her chest tightened when the light blinked.
Long.
Short.
Short.
Short.
Long.
It cut through the thinning rain like a pulse.
Jonas froze.
The wind tugged at his coat, snapping it hard against his legs, but he didn’t move. His eyes were locked on the distant shore, wide and hollow, as if the past had risen out of the sea and was standing there, waiting.
“No,” he whispered.
Evan turned sharply. “What is it?”
Jonas swallowed. His mouth worked as though the words were rusted shut. “That signal shouldn’t exist.”
Cass stepped closer, her boots scraping the wet platform. “Jonas. What does it mean?”
He shook his head once, slow and deliberate. “It isn’t a promise signal. It isn’t a warning to ships. It’s older than the lighthouse. Older than the Bell Tower.”
Another flash cut through the fog.
Long.
Short.
Short.
Short.
Long.
Jonas exhaled, shaky. “It’s an alarm.”
The word settled heavily between them.
“An alarm for what?” Evan asked.
Jonas turned to him, eyes sharp now... afraid, but focused. “For movement.”
A distant rumble rolled through the cliffs, not thunder, not quite the sea either. The storm was pulling away, but something else was waking in its place.
“That code,” Jonas said quietly, “was only ever taught to one kind of person. Someone who knew what the Bell really does. Someone who survived the first Midnight Tide.”
Cass felt her pulse spike. “You said no one survived that night.”
Jonas looked at her then, really looked at her, and she hated the expression on his face.
“I said no one talked about it.” Jonas clapped back.
Evan’s jaw tightened. “Who sent the signal?” He asked.
Jonas didn’t answer immediately. His gaze drifted past them, toward the dark outline of the coast, toward the stretch of land where the lighthouse beam died before it reached.
“That signal means the curse is active,” Jonas said. “And it means it’s looking for a place to settle.”
Cass’s breath caught. “Settle where?” She asked terrified.
Jonas looked down.
At Ben.
The boy lay wrapped in coats near the edge of the platform, pale, unmoving, his breathing shallow enough to make Cass’s stomach twist every time she checked.
“No,” she said immediately. “Don’t say that.”
Jonas crouched beside Ben, pressing two fingers lightly to his wrist. “This isn’t an illness,” he said. “It never was.”
Cass felt anger flare through the fear. “You don’t know that" she snapped.
“I do,” Jonas replied, gently but firmly. “Because I’ve seen it before.”
The wind shifted, carrying the smell of salt and wet iron.
Evan crouched beside them. “Before when?” He asked in disbelief.
Jonas hesitated, just long enough for Cass to notice.
“You’re hiding something,” she said.
Jonas looked up at her. “So is this town.”
Cass crossed her arms, cold seeping through her clothes. “Stop speaking in riddles.”
Jonas straightened slowly. “Ten years ago, during the last great tide, someone made a promise to the Bell.”
Evan stiffened. “A promise for what?”
“To stop it,” Jonas said. “To keep it from taking more than it already had.”
Cass’s throat tightened. “Who made the promise?”
Jonas didn’t answer.
Another flash from the shore.
Long.
Short.
Short.
Short.
Long.
“This signal,” Jonas continued, voice lower now, “means whoever made that promise knows it’s breaking.”
Cass shook her head. “You’re saying Ben is...”
“Being pulled,” Jonas finished. “Not taken yet. Not fully.”
Evan stood abruptly. “Then we get him to the doctor. Now.”
Jonas looked at him with something close to pity. “Medicine won’t touch this.”
Cass stepped between them. “You don’t get to decide that.”
Jonas’s voice softened. “Cass… the Bell doesn’t hurt people directly. It binds them. It anchors itself to blood, to memory, to unresolved vows.”
Cass felt something crack open inside her. “You’re talking about my family.”
Jonas met her eyes. “Yes.”
Silence stretched thin.
Cass swallowed hard. “Then tell me the truth.”
Jonas hesitated again and this time, Evan noticed.
“Jonas,” Evan said quietly. “If you know something, say it.”
Jonas turned away, staring down the tracks that vanished into darkness. “The person who sent that signal isn’t someone you expect.”
Cass’s heart pounded. “Who?”
Jonas closed his eyes. “Someone who never left Willow Lane.”
A chill slid down Cass’s spine. “That’s impossible.”
“So is that signal,” Jonas replied.
The wind gusted sharply, rattling the old station windows.
Evan frowned. “You’re saying someone has been hiding.”
“Yes" answered Jonas.
“And watching,” Jonas added.
Cass’s voice dropped. “Watching who?”
Jonas looked back at Ben. “Waiting for the curse to move.”
Cass’s hands curled into fists. “Waiting to do what?”
Jonas didn’t answer.
That scared her more than anything else.
A low mechanical groan echoed behind them, metal shifting, settling.
Evan turned, eyes narrowing. “The boxcars.”
Three rusted freight cars sat on the siding, forgotten relics from another era, their wheels slick with rain and age.
“The tracks,” Evan said slowly, following their line toward the coast. “They lead straight to the Bell Tower.”
Jonas looked at him sharply. “You’re not thinking...”
“I am,” Evan said. “If someone is moving toward the Tower, we’re already behind.”
Cass looked between them. “Behind who?”
Jonas hesitated then finally said it.
“The signal means the curse has been unsealed.”
Cass’s stomach dropped.
“And whoever sent it,” Jonas continued, “believes the only way to stop it… is to contain it.”
Evan’s voice went tight. “Contain it how?”
Jonas’s jaw clenched. “By binding it to something that won’t fight back.”
Cass stared at Ben.
“No,” she said again, louder now. “Absolutely not.”
The wind surged, as if the sea itself were listening.
“We don’t know that for sure,” Jonas said, but his voice lacked conviction.
Cass turned sharply toward the boxcars. An idea... reckless, dangerous, unavoidable, took shape.
“If someone is heading for the Bell Tower,” she said, “then we get there first.”
Jonas’s eyes widened. “Cass...”
“We don’t have a boat. We don’t have a car. But we have tracks,” she said, already moving.
Evan followed instantly. “The incline runs downhill.”
Jonas caught up to them. “That’s suicide.”
Cass stopped and faced him, eyes blazing. “So is waiting.”
The storm eased, leaving behind a heavy, breathless silence.
They worked fast, too fast to think.
Oil from an old utility tin. Ropes stiff with age. Ben lifted carefully, every breath a quiet terror.
The coupling pin stood between them and the dark.
Jonas’s hands trembled as he gripped it. “Once this moves, there’s no stopping it.”
Evan climbed into the boxcar, wrapping one arm around Ben, the other around the rope. “Then don’t hesitate.”
Jonas yanked the pin.
The metal screamed.
Nothing happened.
For one awful moment, the boxcar stayed still.
Cass didn’t think.
She grabbed the heavy slate shard near the tracks and slammed it against the rusted coupling.
Again.
Again.
The wheels shrieked as they broke free.
The boxcar lurched forward.
Too fast.
Evan’s eyes met hers... wide, fierce, and unafraid.
Then the car vanished down the track, swallowed by darkness and speed.
Cass stood alone on the platform, the wind whipping her hair, her heart beating so hard it hurt.
The signal flashed once more from the coast.
Long.
Short.
Short.
Short.
Long.
And Cass knew, with cold certainty, that whatever waited at the Bell Tower was already awake.