I try not to glare, to not feel jealous or hurt, but if he thinks he can just leave me behind and hang out with his girlfriend...
“So,” he says, glancing at me. “Jill wants me to come over for a little while.” He takes in my expression and hurries to add, “I think it would be a good time to tell her my feelings have changed, and to... break up.”
I cross my arms over my chest, and continue glaring. I agree it's time for him and Jill to break up, and it has to happen sometime, just not tonight. After our conversation earlier, I want to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. And if he is with Jill, only stupid is possible.
“Come on, Alisa. It will only be an hour at the most. Don't be mad. I'm tired of fighting.”
“I'm not mad.”
“Right.”
Sighing, I turn to him. “Fine. You're right.” I lean my head against the back of the couch, closing my eyes. So tired. So drained.
“After I come home, we'll have the whole evening to talk.”
“After you come home? You honestly think I'm going to let you go alone?” I watch him incredulously. He really thinks I'll just sit here and wait?
“Well, it's kind of a private conversation. No one wants to get dumped in front of an audience.” He walks back out to his car and gets in. I stand beside his window—having followed him like a lost puppy, ready to jump inside too.
“I promise to come home as soon as I can, and I'll tell you all about it. Please let me do this alone.”
A storm rages inside me. All the reasons I should say no are forefront in my mind. I don't trust Jill, and I can't trust Brecken not to be sucked in by her lies. How can I let him go alone? Yet I want him to trust me. There can never be a relationship between us if I don't start showing him that I trust his judgment too.
With a sigh, I agree. I'll let him dump his doofus girlfriend in private, but then he is all mine.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
~Beginning to Heal~
Alisa
I sit alone, staring at the white, pictureless wall in Brecken's living room. With the girls and Brecken gone, the quiet soon becomes tedious and lonely. Rather than waste time, and since I haven't seen her in a few days, I decide to visit my mom.
A moment later, I'm at her side. She's content, in her bed, her blankets fluffed around her, looking through a photo album. Dark hair hangs lustrously about her shoulders and she wears my red-plaid pajama bottoms with a white tank top.
My clothes.
She robbed my closet, and a warmth I haven't felt in a long time gratifies me. I sit cross-legged next to her on the bed and lean near to see the pictures she's focused on. They are from the last campout we went on the summer before I died. Stately pines make the perfect backdrop to the mountain lake scene. I can almost smell the scent of wild flowers on the remembered breeze.
Most of the photos are of my brothers and me. In one, I hold a trout I caught. It dangles from my fingers, its gills spread wide in death. There are a couple shots of us laughing in a canoe. Two seconds after that picture was taken, Derek tipped us over. An unforgettable water fight had ensued. Such happy memories. Had I been depressed then? I'm not sure, but it doesn't look like it.
My mother probably wonders the same thing. She doesn't look sad though, and she isn't crying. Her clear eyes shine, and her skin glows a healthy pink. She runs her fingers over our faces and smiles.
“I'm here, Mom,” I whisper, touching her shoulder. I want so badly for her to know I'm with her, that I understand, that I don't blame her for anything.
Hearing the sound of feet on the stairs, I turn. Mom's bedroom door bursts open. Tyler lopes to the bed and jumps on, rolling right over me so he can sit next to Mom.
“Hi!” He hugs her waist. “Whatcha lookin' at?”
I pull back, staring at him in surprise. He seems a completely different kid than he was just a few weeks ago.
Mom wraps her arms around him and kisses the top of his head. “Just some pictures. Remember this one?” She points to us in our sleeping bags. “It was such a fun trip.”
A sad expression comes over his face, and his smile turns into a frown. “Yeah, that was fun.” He grabs the remote from the nightstand and flips on the TV. “Want to watch a movie?”
“Sure,” Mom answers.
He searches the list of recorded movies and clicks on the most recent Transformers film. One I'd thought was monumentally stupid, but I snuggle in to watch anyway. Not ten minutes later, my dad comes in carrying my favorite treat in the world.
Hot buttered popcorn.
“I come bearing sustenance,” he exclaims dramatically, and plops down on his side of the bed, placing the giant bowl on Ty's lap. I wish I could smell its salty-butteriness as strongly as I used to. I can sense its wonderful aroma, but it's different from when I had a physical body. In Idir Shaol, I can smell everything—the flowers, trees, shrubbery—but here, my senses are dulled, and I distinctly feel the lack.
For the next two hours, I bask in my family's company and wish Derek were here too. I snuggle by my dad, garnering strength and confidence, and then I move to lean against my mother's shoulder to feel her spirit. She seems happy now, relaxed. Maybe they are on their way to healing... finally.
When the movie ends and Ty has been sent off to bed, I realize how late it is. I jump from the bed, giving my parents a quick peck on the cheek, then focus on Brecken's house. He is probably waiting for me.
I appear at his house instantaneously.
He isn't there.
CHAPTER FIFTY
~Blocked~
Alisa
I check the clock. It's been three hours since Brecken left. Plenty of time to tell her she is wacko and get back home. I should have been here earlier, waiting. I shouldn't have spent so much time with my family.
I focus on Brecken, concentrating on him and only him.
I anticipate re-appearing at Jill's house, but instead I materialize in front of the old rundown house where I saw the unearthly fraternity meeting. He can't be here. I frown and step forward to go through the closed front door.
As soon as I step onto the porch, I smack into an invisible barrier and ricochet back, tripping on the bottom step and falling. This is disturbingly like trying to go over the diamond bridge. The similarity is not lost on me. I try again, but the same thing occurs. An unseeable force blocks my way. I can't go in. Plain and simple.
This has never happened to me on Earth. If Brecken is here, I should be able to go to him. Nothing should stand in my way. My spirit prickles at this new development.
I close my eyes and think of Brecken's face, focusing harder this time, concentrating on the deepness of his eyes, the softness of his full lips—things I shouldn't be thinking of—and close my eyes. I don't feel the familiar tug and pull in my belly, yet I open my eyes, fully expecting to be by his side.
Nope. Nothing.
A deep foreboding fills me. A dark fear. The heaviness of failure.
A sense of urgency stabs at me, and I wrack my mind for a solution, but the harder I try, the emptier my mind becomes, like a sieve losing sand. There has to be a way.
But what?
I'll go straight to the source and find out for myself. Moments later, I stand at Raphael's office door, panicked, pounding on the hard wooden surface.
For the first time, the door doesn't open.
I stare, stunned. A vast, black hole opens inside my chest, and all feelings of hope are sucked into a void of nothing. In despair, I sink to my knees, my hands covering my face, each breath slow and filled with desperation.
Then I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn to see Anaita's brilliantly blue eyes.
“He's not here,” she says. “He won't be back for quite a while. I'm in charge for the time being.” She doesn't smile or offer any other information. Just stands with her hands clasped before her. Cold. Rigid.
She could offer to help, but from the tightness of her lips, the narrowness of her eyes, I know she won't. Brecken could di
e because of her haughty selfishness. I hate her more in that moment then I ever have before.
“I need Raphael right now!” I cry, feeling pathetic under her stare.
“Sorry. Nothing I can do about that.” Her eyes do not invite me to confide, but who else can I turn to? I need someone, anyone, who knows how things work.
“I can't get to Brecken,” I hurry to explain. “For some reason, I'm... locked out. I need help.” I watch and wait for her to express concern or worry.
She gives me a cold smile and sighs. “Come to my office.”
I follow her down the hall, wishing she'd move faster, but she continues as though we have all eternity to solve my problem. Her office, which is half as big as Raphael's, is much more plush, with fluffy, white pillows sitting on a red velvet couch, and multicolored candles burning on every surface. She walks behind her desk and sits down, ushering me to a chair across from her.
I balance on the edge, ready to fly back to Brecken. “We need to hurry, Anaita. I think Brecken's in serious trouble.”
“Indeed, he is,” she says, not seeming the least bit worried.
I don't have time for niceties. I'm done pretending. “Well? What are you waiting for?”
“You seem to think there's something we should do.” She reclines and steeples her fingers in her lap.
I tamp down the desire to scream, to rip out her condescending eyes, her full, pouty lips. I've already wasted too much time. What if Jill is drinking his blood at this very moment? What if, heaven forbid, he's going forward with his plan to kill himself? What if he's dead already?
“A month ago, you didn't care one whit about his boy. What could possibly have changed?” she asks with a sly smile.
I lean forward, my hands white-knuckled. I refuse to be embarrassed or ashamed. “Please. Help me.”
“First, tell me the truth,” she demands, grinding her teeth and leaning forward also.
“What do you mean? I don't have time for this!”
“You do know what I mean, but please, waste time asking stupid questions.”
Her words bite, but I can only think of Brecken. I'll go through any humiliation to see him again. “Fine. I love him. But I'm sure you're already aware of this. Now will you help me?” I drop my hands from the desk and stand straight, my shoulders squared.
With a tired sigh, Anaita leans back. “Sit down, Alisa. There's nothing you can do for Brecken at the moment.”
“What do you mean?” I sit reluctantly, my heart aching. Why is she stalling? What is wrong with this woman?
“There's a reason you were sent to help Brecken, and it wasn't so you could fall for him, although most bad boys are alluring, aren't they?” She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. “I've always been drawn to them myself.”
“I'm not like you.”
“Hmm. Be that as it may, you have broken the rules. What would you say if I told you, that because of your behavior, you have been removed from this assignment?” Her eyes narrow and she leans forward as though she morbidly anticipates my misery.
My heart sinks in disbelief. She can't pull me from my guardianship. She isn't in charge. It's up to Raphael.
“Nothing to say?” She sits back, relaxed. “No crying for another chance? No begging?”
“When will Raphael be back?” I'm done playing cat and mouse. I don't have to be here, and I don't want her help anymore.
“I already told you. I don't know. But I will tell you this—it's already too late.”
I stare at her, shaking my head. I look straight into her eyes. “You're a real piece of work, lady.” Full of disgust, I turn for the door. “I'll find a way to help Brecken myself.”
“You do that.”
Looking back over my shoulder, I give her my best glare.
She doesn't seem fazed.
I run as soon as the office door closes behind me.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
~A Nice Surprise~
Alisa
I will myself to appear in the basement of the old house—not on the front porch, not in the filthy living room with pizza boxes, or anywhere else. I have to get inside. I have to see for myself that Brecken is all right.
Still, to my dismay, I cannot enter. Whatever barred my entry before, bars my way still. Frustrated beyond belief, I do the only thing I can think of.
I go home.
To my surprise, my parent's house bustles with activity. Long time neighbors are in the kitchen washing dishes, chopping vegetables, and visiting. Others sit at the kitchen table cutting out pictures and scrap-booking. In confusion, I hurry to the living room to find my Aunt Karen sitting on the couch drinking peppermint tea with my mother.
They laugh, their eyes sparkling with happiness as they reminisce about their childhoods. The sunset gleams brightly through the large, front window of our spotless house.
This is how it used to be.
An indescribable ache stabs at my chest as the realization of what I've thrown away is displayed before me. If only I'd understood, if only I'd known what I was giving up. If only some wounded soul like me had come to me beforehand and warned me of the danger of taking my own life, I wouldn't be here like this.
Trapped and miserable.
I float up through the ceiling to Ty's room, wondering if he is home. Sure enough, he's at his desk, working diligently on a model airplane. I've never understood how he can sit for so long, so focused, his fingers steady.
After giving Ty an invisible hug and kiss, I push back down through the floor, glancing at the ladies in the living room and continue on to Derek's room in the basement. As I suspect, he isn't there. Dust motes float in a single ray of sunlight that filters through the small window. His bed is made—Mom must have done that—and a newly folded pile of clothes lies next to his pillow.
How long has he stayed away? Does he even know Mom is home from the hospital? Does he ever come back to get clean clothes? I let the anger at his cruelty to our family filter through me. He should give our mom another chance. He shouldn't hold a grudge for so long. His refusal to forgive is hurting our whole family.
As soon as I think this, guilt nags at me.
I am doing the same thing in a way.
But I am holding onto hate for Mr. Roland, not someone in my family, and what he did was worse. He deserves my hate. He deserves to rot for eternity. How could I possibly forgive him? Wouldn't that be like saying what he did was okay?
I can't do that.
But Derek should forgive our mom. She wasn't in her right mind when she hurt Tyler. She shouldn't be held accountable. It wouldn't be fair.
Tired of analyzing, and missing Brecken like a crippled bird yearning to take flight, I go in search of him. My family is okay, on the road to healing, and I can concentrate on my new love—I mean my new job.
I close my eyes and shimmer out of sight, my spirit tingling in anticipation. I pray it will work this time, pray I'm not too late. I appear in Brecken's kitchen. He walks in at the very same time, a look of irritation plastered on his face. He slams the door shut behind him, not even realizing I'm there.
“Where have you been?” I demand out of frustration, sounding overly parental. “I've been looking everywhere for you.” I stand with my hands on my hips, like my mom used to. I rush to drop them.
He looks up in astonishment and searches the room for me. “I've been trying to console Jill. She's been crying all evening. I couldn't leave her alone like that. I feel terrible.” He drops down on the couch and rubs his face, deep lines creasing his forehead.
“You feel terrible? For her?” I fairly scream. “I've been all over the place looking for you. I was so worried. I even went back to Idir Shaol! For some reason I couldn't get to you, and I tried over and over, and I agonized over all the things that could have happened to you! Then I went to that old house, but something kept blocking me from going inside, and all I could think was that Jill had hurt you, or you'd killed yourself, and that I'd failed, and would never see you again
, and—”
He looks up, his eyebrows creased. “You looked for me in Idir Shaol? Where's that?”
“It's... like Heaven. And I knew you weren't there. The point is that I thought Jill had done something to you.” I can see by the look on his face that he still doesn't completely believe the story I told him about Jill drinking his blood.
“I'm sorry you were worried, but you didn't need to be. I don't actually need a guardian. And... that's where I was,” he says listlessly.
I fall onto the couch, holding my head in my hands. After all I've been through, the heartache, the worry—and he was with Jill the whole time. He doesn't even act like he cares. That is the worst part.
“Okay. I just... I was just so worried and I don't like you being with her.”
He snorts and shakes his head. “I've also been trying to ditch him.” He gestures over his shoulder to the lazy boy recliner. “He has followed me all night.”
I don't see anything. “Who?”
“The gray guy.”
The gray guy? “What are you talking about?” Did he mean one of those dark evil spirits? A shadow fiend or dark minion, like the one Jill and the Lady in Red have? But I can't see it.
I have the sudden urge to back up.
“I used to call him the Shadow Man when I was little. He scared the crap out of me back then. Especially since I sleep alone in the basement. He's not always around, but when he is, he watches me and never speaks. I've started seeing a new one too. One with a darker color. Almost black. But that's only been recently.”
My mind whirls with the implications, and I pace the room, adding it all up. “A dark spirit has followed you since you were a child. Another has come on the scene just barely... when you started... dating Jill?”
He turns, and throws me a warning glare. “Lay off it, okay?”
“Hey, I'm just sayin'.” I continue to search the room and wonder why I can't see this mysterious being. “Can it see me?”
“I don't know, but he gives me the creeps.” Brecken shivers and walks into the kitchen. “And he never leaves when I tell him to.”
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