by Kady Cross
So, I said goodbye to Noah—we didn’t kiss because the others were there, and he was old-fashioned—and drifted home. I took my time. I told myself it was because I wanted to enjoy the morning, skirt around trees and cars, peek in windows and spy on the living, and not because I wanted to put off facing my sister. Sunday morning was a lazy time in New Devon. Even the brightly colored leaves took their time falling from branch to ground.
Smiling, I caught hold of the breeze and followed it home, to the big old house my grandmother owned. It had a nice yard where Lark and I had played as children, with trees just begging to be climbed, their bare branches thick and sturdy. I slipped through the front door—no more substantial than air—into the kitchen. I thought Lark might be in the kitchen having breakfast, but she wasn’t.
“Wren, honey, is that you?” Nan asked, squinting in my direction as she poured a cup of coffee.
Charlotte Noble was in her sixties, but she didn’t look it. Her hair—not quite as red as mine—was graying, but there was hardly a line on her pretty face.
I nodded. Normally, she couldn’t see me, but she could feel my presence. Nan was sensitive to ghosts, which made sense, because it was her side of the family where all this kind of stuff happened. It was because of her that Lark and I knew about our great-great-grandmother Emily and her twin, Alys—who was Dead Born like me. I’d caught glimpses of Alys in the house when we first moved here, but I hadn’t seen her in a while, and neither Lark nor I had seen Emily, who had appeared to both of us, in just as long.
Nan smiled. “Thought so. You ought to have let me know when I saw you earlier.”
“But I just got home,” I said.
She blinked. “Did you just speak?”
“Yes.” I moved closer. “Nan, what did you see earlier?”
She stared at me. I don’t know just how solid I appeared before her, but I imagined that it was like looking at someone through a veil of gauze. “I can hear you. See you. Oh, my dear girl.” Her eyes filled with tears.
If I could cry I would have, but I could only feel that pressure in my chest. When she reached for me, I could feel the warmth of her hand against my cheek like a kiss from the sun.
“It’s almost All Hallows’ Eve,” I explained. “When the veil between the living and the dead is at its thinnest.”
She continued to stare at me as though she’d never seen anything like me before. Oh, right. She hadn’t. Her brow puckered. “It wasn’t you I saw earlier, was it?”
“No. She looked like me, though?”
Her frown deepened. I didn’t like seeing that confusion on her face. “Yes, but she was dressed differently. More old-fashioned. I suppose I ought to have known.”
“Alys,” I said—more to myself than her.
Nan didn’t look as surprised as I thought she would. “I ought to have noticed. I’ve felt her here, you know. I always assumed it was you because she felt so familiar, but now I realize your energy is very different.”
“Where did you see her?” I asked.
She shook her head. She seemed a little scattered. Was that because of me, the situation or something else? “Around the bottom of the stairs. If you can talk to me, why couldn’t she?”
That explained her confusion. I didn’t want to tell her what Lark and I thought—that there was something wrong with Alys. That she was stuck here when she ought to have moved on. If that was true, there was a chance that Alys could be twisting like other old ghosts. She’d better not be a danger to Nan, because I’d rip her apart, family or not.
“Maybe she’s confused,” I suggested. “If she’s become accustomed to you not noticing her, she might have not even heard you. Sometimes we don’t notice the living who notice us.” That was sort of true.
Nan nodded, and I relaxed. “Maybe you can talk to her, dear.” She looked up at me, her eyes watering again. “It’s so good to see you, my pretty, pretty Wren.”
I threw myself at her, engulfing her in my energy. She gasped, but I could feel her arms around my waist. I could feel her like Lark would feel her, and it was amazing. So much love and warmth.
The TV on the counter came on, and the timer on the stove dinged. Nan and I jumped apart at the same time, but it wasn’t my energy that had caused the surge.
Lark stood in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room, her pale hair wild around her shoulders and her eyes bright as gems. She was the one who had set off the electronics. As the veil between worlds thinned, I became more of a part of this world, and Lark became a part of mine.
I’d never been afraid of my sister, but at that moment I had no idea what she might do.
“Where the hell have you been?” she demanded.
LARK
Wren just stared at me, like she didn’t understand why I was so upset.
Okay, I didn’t understand why I was so upset, either. I just was. Bad. It felt like static electricity snapping beneath my skin.
My sister cocked her head, blood-red hair spilling to the side like a long, dense curtain. “Are you manifesting?” she asked.
I glanced around. Everything looked right—not like it had at Goodwill. “I don’t think so.”
“You are,” she said, coming toward me. I stepped closer.
My feet weren’t touching the freaking floor. I yanked my head up, gaze locking with Wren’s. “What the hell?”
Nan frowned in disbelief, her gaze pointed at my feet. “Lark, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” I said. My voice shook. “It’s never happened before.”
Wren was the only one of us who didn’t look freaked out. In fact, she looked at me like I was some sort of science experiment. “It’s All Hallows’ Eve,” she said. “It has to be. If the thinning of the barrier makes me more substantial in this world, it also increases the parts of you that are like a ghost.”
Nan nodded. “You do look somewhat ethereal, dear.” White hair will do that to you. “More so than normal, I mean.”
I drew a deep breath and pointed my toes. As I exhaled, I slowly lowered until my feet were flat on the floor. That was enough of that foolishness.
“I’m going to have to watch out for that,” I said. At least I felt normal again.
Our grandmother shook her head. “You girls certainly make life interesting.” And then, more seriously, “Is this something I should be concerned about?”
“I don’t think so,” I told her. “I’ll let you know.”
“I need a cup of tea,” she said, and walked back into the kitchen, toward the stove.
I glanced at Wren. The annoyance I’d felt toward her was returning. “Have a good night?”
I think she actually blushed. “I did.”
“Great.” And just because I could be such a bitch—“You missed all the fun. A ghost attacked Kevin and me last night.”
“What?”
I’ll admit, her reaction wasn’t quite what I’d expected. I’d thought she’d be shocked, of course, but I expected more emotion. You’d think I’d told her he bleached his hair.
Was this lack of human caring a Halloween thing, too, or was it because of Noah? I understood that she wouldn’t be so worried about me—I could take care of myself, but her lack of concern over Kevin was strange. Now that she had a ghost boyfriend, Kevin was yesterday’s garbage? I couldn’t believe she could be that indifferent.
“A ghost showed up at the party last night and said it was there to kill Kevin.” Maybe that hadn’t been its exact words, but I figured when someone introduced themselves as Death, they were there for a fairly specific reason.
“Is he all right?” Now she looked concerned.
“Yeah. We fought it off.”
“Male or female?”
“Male.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Then he’s not an ‘it,’ is
he?”
I stared at her. The air between us practically snapped with tension. I grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the kitchen and out of Nan’s earshot. I didn’t want our grandmother to hear us argue, and I really didn’t want either of us around her if things got weird again.
“Regardless of gender identification, the ghost was still a murderous douche bag sent to kill someone you considered a friend until very recently. And he intended to rape me as a bonus. You still insulted on his behalf?”
“Rape you? Oh, my God, Lark.” She threw her arms around me. “Of course I’m not. I’m so sorry!”
Tears filled my eyes. I hadn’t realized just how badly Woodstock had shaken me until then. There had been a male ghost in Bell Hill that liked to “mess” with the female patients, but we’d exorcised him. He hadn’t hurt me, but he’d come close, and there were others whom he had.
I resisted hugging Wren back. My feelings were hurt that she’d stayed away, but mostly I was pissed because I’d been scared without her there, even if I hadn’t known it at the time. We were a team, and I wasn’t so tough without her at my back.
And I was jealous of the dead boy who was so fascinating that she’d leave me hanging for him.
She must have felt how stiff I was, because she melded into me, the cheater. I had no choice but to feel how truly sorry she was, her guilt and anger. And I felt her love for me, which made everything better.
Finally, I put my arms around her. Wren always had substance to me, but at that moment, with her energy melding with mine, it felt like I was hugging myself. Weird. I could feel my own arms wrapped around me like she was me and I was her, but we were both still ourselves.
“Does this feel odd to you?” she asked.
I nodded, tears gone. “Much.”
She let me go, and I released her. We both took a step back, eying each other warily.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
She shrugged. “All Hallows’ Eve?”
“That’s becoming too convenient as an explanation. If it’s the time of year, why hasn’t it ever happened before?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because we’ve been using our abilities more often? They’re stronger?”
It was a better explanation than anything else—and less panic-inducing. “I wish we had someone to explain all this.”
“Emily wrote about Alys in her journal, but never why they were the way they were.”
“Yeah?” I knew this already. “We figured she didn’t know why they were like that, either.”
“But she talked like she did. And she wasn’t trying to explain it to anyone who might find and read the journal.”
“The journal was given to you in the Shadow Lands. For all we know, she could have burned the real-life copy. No need to explain what no one else was ever going to see.”
“Then why write it down?”
I sighed. This was one of those moments when my sister just didn’t get humanity. “Some people just like to write stuff down. Record their lives.”
“Like Twitter? People don’t explain what they mean on there, either.”
Close enough. “Sure.”
Wren grinned. Then her happiness faded. “Earlier, Nan said she saw someone she thought was me. I think it might have been Alys. It would be nice if she or Emily would come to us and explain everything.”
Wasn’t that the truth? “I’d like a manual, thanks.”
“A diagram even.”
“I’d settle for a Tweet.”
We smiled at each other. Something deep inside my chest gave a little—like easing up on an elastic band stretched too tight.
“I don’t like it when you’re mad at me,” Wren said, smile gone. “And I don’t like feeling like I’m letting you down if I try to have friends of my own.”
Friends of her own. She should be allowed to have them. I should encourage her to do just that. I wanted her to be happy. So why did I feel like she’d just kicked me? “I don’t like it, either. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t expect you to drop everything and come running when I call.”
“I should know that you wouldn’t reach out if it wasn’t important. I’m just glad neither of you were hurt.” Then, she frowned. “Kevin wasn’t hurt, was he?”
“No, but I am totally convinced the ghost was sent for him.”
“Who would do something like that?”
I shrugged. “No idea. He says he hasn’t been in contact with any spirits other than you, so the only thing we could think of was that maybe it had something to do with Haven Crest and Bent.”
“No one I know at Haven Crest would do something like that.”
I arched a brow. “Know a lot of Haven Crest ghosts, do you?” No, I didn’t sound like a jealous cow at all.
“A few.” Her expression was defensive. “It’s different there, now that Bent is gone. The entire place is much happier.”
Happy ghosts. That made no freaking sense to me. Other than Wren, I don’t think I’d ever met a ghost with any joy in their un-life. Ghosts were generally ghosts because there was some kind of terrible emotion they clung to in death, keeping them trapped here.
“Well, maybe a few of them that you haven’t met are unhappy that Bent got snuffed.”
She scowled. “If that were the case, you’d think they’d come after you. You did the most damage, after all.”
“I wasn’t the one that ended Bent,” I reminded her. “And I said they were unhappy, not stupid.” I mean, really. If a ghost came after me, there was a really good chance I was going to hurt it, track it down and torch its mortal remains. Kind of like what we planned to do with Woodstock.
Maybe he was stupid after all. Or maybe he figured we’d never find him.
Or, my paranoid brain whispered, Woodstock’s got someone way more powerful watching over him.
Yeah, didn’t want to think about that.
“Anyway, Gage has patient records that Kevin and I are going to look through. Ben’s coming over later to help. Hopefully we’ll find a photo of the ghost and figure out what he’s up to.”
“And if you don’t?”
I sighed at the edge in her voice. “Look, what’s up with you defending Haven Crest all of a sudden?” Oh, shit. “Was Noah an inm—a patient, or did he work there?”
Wren looked down, pretending to pick lint off her shirt. News flash—ghosts don’t pick up lint. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You don’t know, do you?” How the hell could she not know? Yes, girls got involved with psycho guys all the time and didn’t know it, but when you met a guy at a freaking lunatic asylum you should at least freaking ask if he listed the place as his home address!
“I knew you’d do this!” she blurted, pointing a finger at me. “I knew you wouldn’t even give him a chance. You think all ghosts are monsters!”
I almost shouted that all ghosts were monsters, but I caught myself. “If I’d met Ben at Bell Hill, wouldn’t you have wondered whether or not he was nuts?”
Now she was the one crackling with energy, her hair standing out. She was pissed. And for once, my main concern wasn’t calming her down.
“If you lose it in our grandmother’s house I will kick your ass,” I warned her, while at the same time part of me itched for a good fight. “Every time something you don’t like happens you almost manifest. Get. It. Together.”
And she did. For maybe a split second I thought we were going to go at it—which was just plain weird. Really, if Halloween didn’t come and go soon I didn’t know what was going to happen. Wren and I were never like this with each other. Sure, we got pissed, but not like this.
“Noah is nice,” she informed me, a little petulantly, but her hair and eyes were normal, so I’d take it as a win.
“I’m glad,” I replied, swallowing
a smart-ass reply. “Do you remember Melanie at Bell Hill?”
She nodded, but from the sour look on her face, I knew she had an idea where this was going.
“Mel was nice, too—until she wasn’t. I don’t want to see you get hurt. And I bet Noah doesn’t want to hurt you either, but he’s still here for a reason.”
Another stiff nod. She really didn’t like me much at the moment, but at least she listened to what I had to say.
And if she didn’t act on it, I would. How many teenagers named Noah could have been admitted to Haven Crest in the late nineteenth century?
“You didn’t give me much of a chance to meet him,” I said, using a different tactic. “You just threw him at me.”
“I knew you wouldn’t like him.”
“Why wouldn’t I like him? Because he’s a ghost? That’s stupid. If you like him and he’s good to you, I’ll like him, too. I’d like the chance to actually talk to him.” And maybe ask a few questions of my own.
Wren met my gaze, a hopeful expression on her face that made me instantly guilty. “Really?”
I nodded. “Really.” I did not push my luck by suggesting a double date. “Is he going to be at the concert?”
She wrinkled her nose. “He said he’d go if I wanted, but it’s not exactly his sort of music.”
“It might be the only chance anyone gets to meet him.” I said this knowing full well “anyone” would translate to “Kevin” in her head, because I’d want the guy who hurt me to see my current hottie. “They might actually see him.”
She liked that idea. Did I feel even the least bit guilty for manipulating her? No. She’d spied on Ben shortly after we got together—after we got rid of Bent. For days she’d tell me what he ate for breakfast, or how he talked to his mother—stuff that was none of her business, and it was none of mine, but she wanted to make certain he was “good enough” for me. Well, I was just returning the favor.
Wren was right about me—I distrusted ghosts. I never tried to hide the fact, but if I was wrong about Noah, then I’d apologize. In fact, I hoped I was wrong about him and that he was nice and sincere, and not at all an insane spirit corrupted by the malevolent energy of the place holding him to this world. I would really, really like to be wrong about a ghost just once. And I would especially like to be wrong about the ghost who made my sister look like any other teenage girl who was hopelessly infatuated with a boy.
