Once Dead, Twice Shy

by Kim Harrison

  My foot started to jiggle, but Josh calmly pushed his glasses up and ate a chip. I could tell he felt guilty about being afraid, but we were talking about walking death, and in no way was it even his problem. It was mine.

  “You can’t use a reaper’s amulet, but you can use Kairos’s?” he said despite his full mouth. “What makes his so special?”

  “Uh, because Kairos’s amulet isn’t really a reaper’s stone,” I said hesitantly. “It’s a timekeeper’s,” I added, emboldened by his acceptance of the “time stream” comment. “And timekeepers are human. I guess they dilute the divine or something for them.”

  “Timekeeper,” Josh said softly, and, apparently satisfied, he went back to the chips. “You were lucky you didn’t take a reaper’s amulet by mistake.”

  “Yeah, lucky,” I said, feeling uneasy. That Kairos had come back for my soul was creepy enough, but why had he targeted me? How would my being dead move him to a “higher court,” as he had said the night he’d killed me? Was I fated to do something so horribly wrong that it endangered angels?

  “Maybe just being human isn’t enough to use this thing, and that’s why I can’t do anything with it,” I said morosely as I swung my amulet, and Josh perked up.

  “Well, what should you be able to do with it?”

  Blowing my purple bangs from my eyes, I thought about it. If it was a timekeeper’s amulet, I might be able to do what Ron could—in theory. “Besides thought-touch with a reaper? Um, I guess I should be able to stop small chunks of time,” I said, remembering the shifting shadows when Ron showed up or left. “Or go misty—kind of ghostlike. I’ve seen him do that. Change memories. Ron changed my amulet’s resonance twice, now. Barnabas can shrink an amulet’s influence down so it doesn’t interfere with black wings smelling out a victim and Barnabas can use amulets to find the target, so I’m assuming a timekeeper can do the same. And he said something once about laying down a fake trail for the black wings to trick the dark reapers who follow them for the same reason.”

  My gaze dropped to the table. “Barnabas says I might not be able to touch thoughts with him because my amulet used to belong to a dark timekeeper and he’s a light reaper. Polar opposites. The only thing I’ve tried to do is thought-touching.”

  Josh leaned back with his arms over his chest. “Well, there you go. You should try something else. Something that doesn’t have anything to do with reapers. If you could go misty, you could walk up to him and just pftt. His new amulet would be yours.”

  I stared at him, considering it. Stealing Kairos’s new amulet might very well be that easy. Smiling at Josh, I felt like I had hope again—a reason to try. “Will you help me?”

  From the light fixture, Grace murmured, “I don’t like this,” which perversely made me feel even more hopeful.

  “Absolutely!” Josh’s enthusiasm made me think he wasn’t eager to sleep in his closet tonight, hiding from the dark reaper. Who could blame him, though?

  Smiling, I stood, chair scraping. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  “Why?”

  I cocked my head toward the other end of the house. “I’m not going to practice when my dad is around.” I knew my dad wouldn’t let me entertain in my room, but there had to be somewhere public we could go where no one would look twice at us. Maybe the library. I’d snuck in there a couple of times at night after I caught the librarian hiding the key behind a brick. I was starting to like this small town.

  “But…” he said slowly, worry pinching his eyes.

  “You’ll be fine,” I moaned, dragging him up out of his chair. “The guardian angel goes where I do. You’re covered. We’ve only got till six thirty. Do you want to trust that Barnabas will show between now and then?”

  Nodding, Josh took his glass to the sink. “Okay.”

  Excitement raced down to my toes. “Dad?” I called loudly. “Josh and I are going into town to get an extra card for my camera. Okay?”

  “Take your phone,” his voice came filtering back. “Buy more minutes. Be back by six.”

  “Got it!” I slapped my hand to the back pocket of my shorts to feel the bump of my phone. I turned to Josh, really glad he had a set of wheels. “Ready to go?”

  He looked at me, bemused. “Where? My house is out. My mom works from home.”

  There was a little tinkling laugh from above me somewhere. “There once was a girl who liked lying, who only got worse after dying.”

  “The library?” I said. “But can we go to the mall first? I really do have to pick up a new memory card. Since I’m playing photographer at the carnival now. Thanks,” I finished dryly.

  Josh grinned. “If I’m still alive tomorrow morning, do you want a ride?”

  “You know it,” I said, smiling. He wanted to pick me up, and I didn’t think it was just because of the black wings. I think he liked me.

  I waved bye to my dad when he rolled his desk chair to his office door to see us leave, giving me a smile. I couldn’t help but feel good. It wasn’t simply that Josh might like me, either. I’d been banging my head against a wall for months trying to use my amulet, feeling more and more stupid as Barnabas got more and more despondent. If I could figure this out with Josh, then I wouldn’t have to rely on Barnabas or Ron so much. I could do this on my own.

  Well, I mused as Josh closed the door behind me and searched his pockets for his keys, maybe not entirely alone, but I was going to do it.

  Six

  I’d only been to The Lowest Common Denominator, or the Low D as everyone called it, once before. My dad had taken me for pizza, and the casual eatery had been packed with college students either cramming for finals or relaxing after theirs were done. I knew he’d been trying to help me fit in, but pizza with my dad when everyone else was on their own hadn’t painted the picture I’d been hoping to make. Maybe if I’d been able to go invisible that night, I might have had more luck making friends.

  Smiling at the thought, I picked at a French fry. Josh was hungry again—or still, maybe—which was how a quick pit stop here had made it a convenient place to practice, seeing as the large hangout was nearly empty. That had been almost an hour ago, and I was starting to get anxious. Maybe it wasn’t the amulet, as Barnabas had said. Maybe it really was me. I’d seen a black wing drift through the parking lot when Josh had gone to the little boys’ room, and the panicked face I’d made trying to reach Barnabas’s thoughts had put Grace into stitches.

  We’d already been to the mall, and there was a new photo card in the trendy bag on the table, right beside my untouched soda and the fries. It was Josh’s second plate, and he ate with a steady pace as he dipped fries in spicy cheese and watched me for signs of “ghosting,” as he called it.

  Afternoon light streamed in through the big plate-glass windows that looked out on the mall. Low D had once been a burger joint, but bowing to convention, they now served lattes and had free wi-fi access. There was a center space with coffee tables and cushioned chairs, and booths around the edges. A few people were plugged in, hunched over their laptops, and eating overpriced sandwiches and gourmet kettle chips as they surfed.

  Lonely arcade sounds filtered out from the dark cave set to one side as the machines talked to themselves. Coming from the attached skate arena was the rumble of wheels where skaters tried their nerve and their boards on artificial hills and railings in the “snake pit.” The sound of skateboards on plywood rose up through me like a second pulse of blood. Grace was at the register, resting in the bell that supposedly rang when someone in the snake pit jumped high enough to trigger it. One of the walls was a thick, scuff-marked sheet of Plexiglas, and hazy images moved beyond it in time with the rumbling.

  I turned from the transparent wall and my gaze went back to Josh. My fingers were tingling, but I thought it was because I was gripping my amulet too tightly, not because I was close to figuring this thing out. Perhaps I’d been too optimistic thinking I could learn how to do something useful in so short a time, but I was tired of rely
ing on someone else for my safety, and Josh had been willing to help. “Can you see me now?” I asked hopefully.

  Josh’s eyes met mine squarely, and I slumped. “I think you’re trying too hard,” he said.

  Slowly I let go of my amulet. “We’ve only got a few hours left. It’s not like this thing came with an instruction manual.” Depressed, I ran my fingers over my wax-and-paper cup to wipe the condensation off. Barnabas had been less than helpful the time I’d asked him about it after a particularly frustrating night. He’d only said he “thought slippery thoughts” and that I’d better spend my time learning how to contact him if I needed help. Slippery thoughts. Yeah, and if I thought happy thoughts, I’d sprout wings and fly.

  “You’ve only been at it for an hour. Don’t be so hard on yourself. We’ve got a little time yet,” Josh said, but his eyes were squinting in worry.

  Time, I thought as I wadded my straw wrapper into a ball and dropped it. Maybe I should have tried to learn how to slow time, but that sounded way harder than going invisible.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Josh said, but I could tell he was getting nervous. Meeting death was not something you could easily shake off, and the memory of Kairos standing in the moonlight with his scythe bared as I sat helpless in a smashed-up convertible drifted through me.

  My hand went back to my amulet, and I held the stone, seeking assurance that even if it was a dark timekeeper’s amulet, I was here and sort of alive. Waking up in the morgue and seeing myself on the table had been the single most frightening thing in my life. Even worse, I knew it was my fault for having gotten into his car to begin with, mega-cuteness aside. Kairos wasn’t so cute anymore. I couldn’t believe I’d kissed him.

  I gripped the amulet harder. It had been with me for months now, the weight of it familiar and comforting. Without it, I wouldn’t only be invisible, but insubstantial, able to pass through walls and closed doors. Black wing bait. Ghostlike. Maybe that was the key to it all. Not thinking slippery thoughts, but sort of finding a way to block the stone’s influence.

  Staring at the table, I sifted through my thoughts for the memory of that awful moment in the morgue. I’d been able to feel my heartbeat and the air move in my lungs as I breathed from reflex, but my body had been in the black body bag, unable to sense the coldness of the granite or the smoothness of the plastic surrounding it. I’d been divorced from it. The tie to my body had been broken. It just hadn’t been there. And, scared, I’d run.

  When I’d fled, the air had grown thin in me, like I was becoming as insubstantial as it was—almost equalizing. My knees had gone wobbly. The touch of real objects had hurt, as if grating upon my bone. It was only after Barnabas had come after me that I’d felt normal again. Only then had I been in a position to understand and recognize what I’d lost. With the lack of a body, the universe hadn’t recognized me. That is, until Barnabas’s amulet got close enough and it had something to grab on to again and bring me back in line with everything else.

  Perhaps with the separation from my body, I’d lost what time and the universe used to pull me forward. Maybe the amulets were like artificial points that time and the universe could fasten onto and use to keep mind and soul in sync with the present. And if I could break those ties…

  Anxious, I squirmed on the hard seat, believing I was on the right track. Eyes still closed, I fell deep into my thoughts and tried to see myself as a singular identity, tied to the present by the threads of the past. I could hear the noise around me: Josh slurping his drink, the jingle of the store’s phone—and after months of learning how to concentrate, something finally went my way.

  Excitement shot through me as I suddenly could see the line my life had made. Tense, I saw how I grew from a possibility to a presence, marveling at how my life wove in and out of other people’s lives, and then the ugly snarl where I’d died, almost as if time or space were making a knot to hold itself together when a soul was cut out of it. It was as if the memory of others bound the darkness here where I’d left it, giving it shape by what was lacking, a ghost of a presence that burst suddenly back into existence when I had obtained an amulet. But now, time wasn’t using my body to find my soul and carry it forward; it was using the amulet I had swiped from Kairos. The color, or maybe the sound, was different. It had been a dark blue up to the point when I had died, and then, an abrupt shift to a purple so black it had a tinge of ultraviolet in it. Like Nakita’s.

  My aura, I realized, wanting to drop everything and try to touch Barnabas’s thoughts, but I brought my attention back. I felt myself shiver when I realized I could see my soul throwing lines of thought into the future—for thought must have to move faster than time. I could actually see the violet-colored lines extending from me into the future, pulling me on with the rest of the universe. What made it all work, what colored the lines from my death onward, was the amulet giving time something on which to fasten.

  And if I could break some of those lines running from the amulet to the present, maybe I’d become invisible, like I’d been when I’d run from Barnabas in the morgue. Almost as if I wasn’t wearing the stone even though it remained about my neck.

  Anticipation made me shiver, and I unfocused enough of my attention to make sure I was still sitting with Josh and nothing was going on. This had to work. We were running out of time. I wouldn’t destroy all the threads—just a few—and none of the lines that were pulling me into the future. Just the ones that tied me to this instant of right-this-second.

  I took a slow breath that I didn’t need, and as I exhaled, I plucked a thread that held me to the present. It separated like spider silk, making a soft hum of sound in my mind as it parted. Encouraged, I ran a theoretical hand between me and the present, taking out a larger swath. The rumbling from the snake pit seemed to echo through me. I could almost see the sound coming in waves in my imagination, passing through me to bounce against the far side of the booth.

  “Madison?” Josh whispered, and my eyes flew open. I stared at the table, my fingers tingling. “It’s working,” he said, awe in his voice.

  I inhaled as if coming up from deep water. My head snapped up and I stared at him. The sound of the skaters became real again, the imagined waves of sound gone but for in my thoughts. My heart pounded, and I felt dizzy, almost as if I was alive. Josh was staring at me, his blue eyes wide.

  “It worked!” he said again, leaning forward over his fries. “You’re back now, but I could see the seat behind you!” He glanced around to see if anyone had noticed. “It was the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen. Do it again,” he prompted.

  Relief filled me, and I shifted on the stiff cushion. “Okay. Here goes.”

  Nervous and excited, I settled myself with my palms flat on the table as I willed it to happen again. Eyes open, I stared at the sky visible through the front windows. My focus blurred, and I fell into my thoughts. I felt the stone’s presence everywhere in my recent past, weaving a net to tie each moment of time to the next. It was easier now, and with a finger of thought, I touched the new violet web that had formed and made it shrivel and fall away. The sounds around me grew hollow and I felt the queasy sensation of going insubstantial. The thudding of my heart, even if it was only a memory, vanished.

  “Holy smokes, Madison!” Josh exclaimed in a hushed rush of words. “You’re gone!” He hesitated. “Are you…there? I don’t believe this.”

  I concentrated, breaking a good number of threads as they shifted from the future to the present, making sure to leave enough to pull me forward. “I’m here,” I said, feeling my lips move and hearing my words as if from far away. I brought my gaze to Josh, finding it easier with practice. His eyes were roving everywhere, focusing mostly on the seat behind me.

  “Sweet,” he said as he drew back. “I can hardly hear you. You sound creepy. Like you’re whispering into a phone or something.”

  A tight hum at my ear told me Grace had abandoned the bell by the register. I turned to the bright light darting frantically about the
booth, and my mouth dropped open. “I can see you,” I whispered. “My God, you’re beautiful.” She was only a minute tall, even though her glow made her look softball-sized. Her complexion was dark and her facial features were delicately sharp. Gold shimmered around her to make her outline unclear, especially when she moved. I couldn’t tell if it was fabric or mist. The blur of her wings made the hazy glow I’d been seeing.

  Immediately the tiny angel came to a stop, focusing on my voice. She blinked in surprise, her eyes glowing like the sun. “I lost your song, Madison,” she said. “I couldn’t hear your soul anymore. Stop what you’re doing. I can’t see you.”

  It worked! I thought ecstatically. If my guardian angel couldn’t see me, then neither would a reaper or timekeeper. “I’m invisible,” I said, gazing at her in wonder.

  “I can see that,” she snapped, weaving in agitation. “Now stop it. It has to be a mistake. I can barely hear your soul singing. I can’t protect you if I can’t see you.”

  I moved my arm, seeing that it had a shiny white edge to it now, kind of what a black wing looked like on the end. Curious, I tried to pick up my glass. I shivered as the cold of the pop went straight to my bones, and I couldn’t seem to tighten my fingers enough to get a grip. I wondered why I could sit on a chair without passing through, until I moved the balled-up straw wrapper. It must be that I was substantial enough to have some effect on the world, but not a whole lot. Taking a walk in a windstorm would probably be a bad idea. Maybe that’s how Barnabas could fly.

  “Madison, are you still there?” Josh whispered.

  “Yes,” I said, allowing a few more lines to remain as the future became the present. The angel sighed in relief, and Josh’s eyes shifted to mine.

  “Damn!” he whispered. “I can sort of see you. Jeez, Madison. This is bizarre. Can I touch you?”

  “I wouldn’t,” Grace said as she hovered over the table, but I shrugged, and he reached out to put his fingers on my wrist. We both shuddered at the eerie sensation of contact. His fingers seemed to burn, and I jerked away at the same time he did.