A. Lynden Rolland

Of Breakable Things

For you who are breakable too.

The foolish trust their eyes,

Those left behind.

When the living, having died

Leave footprints

Only in the mind.

Abigail Frank, “The Manual of Sight”

1

When your hourglass trickles sand three times faster than a normal life, you don’t have time to dwell.

No matter how often Alex Ash reminded herself of this, she continued to dwell. A lot. Especially about death. Maybe that was why she took it so well.

She figured that she’d be able to hover over her casket listening to the harmony of sobs echoing off the walls of a church before she moved on to … well, wherever she was supposed to go. This, however, was certainly the last place Alex had expected to be once her life ended.

Familiarity saturated the cinderblock walls splashed with tones of citrus yellow and apple green. Invitingly squishy bean bag chairs sat like distorted gumdrops. Bookcases overflowed with picture books and preteen novels under motivational posters of stranded kittens and toothless children. Utterly confused, she spun in her plastic seat to face the front of the room. A shock of recognition struck her to find her third grade teacher sitting at the desk. The corners of Miss Petra’s soulful brown eyes turned down sadly, but she tried to smile.

Alex raised an eyebrow. “I guess this means you’re dead, too?”

Her smile became genuine. “That isn’t usually the reaction I get.”

“Should I start crying or something?”

“No, thank you. This is a nice change of pace.” She clasped her hands in a professional manner. “How do you feel?”

Alex leaned forward, and her once beautiful hair coiled in greasy clumps on the desk in front of her. She gripped two fistfuls of the faded pastel hospital gown that plagued her frail body. “Is there anything we can do about this?”

Miss Petra looked amused. “You can take it off if you want, but I have nothing for you to replace it with.”

Pastel gown it was.

“Now that we’ve established you are not in shock, do you have any immediate questions?”

Alex shifted uncomfortably in the pint-sized chair. Despite the fact that the person whose tears mattered most to her was already rotting under the ground, she was still eager to witness one thing. “Will I be able to go to my funeral?”

“Would you mind telling me why you’d want to witness something so emotionally stressful?”

Actually, Alex did mind. Her reason was personal: she wanted to spy on her father. Would he show any hint of feeling or love, some indication that he missed her, that he blamed genetics and not Alex for killing her mother?

“It’s no matter. I think by the time of your funeral, you’ll be long gone from this place.”

Where would she be going? Alex felt tingles of anxiety beginning to seep through her, but then, they released into the air like puffs of smog against a clear blue sky, replaced by a blissful calm.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think my emotions are out of whack.”

Miss Petra’s eyes flickered to a door adjacent to the chalkboard, the one with an iridescent light trying to creep out from under. “What do you mean?”

“I just died. I don’t have a reason to feel so … ” Alex's tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. “Happy.”

Alex had long forgotten how it felt to be so buoyant, to have a heart that pumped for something other than mere survival. Granted, she’d been waiting anxiously to die for some time, so in theory she should have been pleased. But one essential variable had not changed. The only thing—the only person—who had ever made her happy was not there.

“Death is not such a terrible thing,” Miss Petra murmured, sweeping her hair into a bun. Loose ends hung at her face. She hadn’t changed much since Alex had seen her last. She seemed shorter, probably because Alex was taller. But her effortless grace still had the ability to take Alex’s breath away. “You don’t seem too upset about being here.”

“Well, neither do you.”

“Sometimes joy and sorrow enter through the same door.”

“And that door just so happens to lead to my third grade classroom, huh?”

Miss Petra winked and pushed herself to a stand behind her desk.

“Why am I here?” Alex asked. No matter how much she’d enjoyed the third grade, no heaven should include a school classroom.

“You’re seeing something that is comforting and peaceful for you. Two people hardly ever see the same thing.” Miss Petra’s heels click-clacked as she crossed the room and rested her hand on a shelf clustered with models of Mt. Fuji. “But I can see why this room would be an exception. I suppose I can pat myself on the back for that one.”

Alex offered a tight-lipped grin and followed Miss Petra’s gaze to the twenty-six plump green caterpillars marching across the wall. Each one had the name of a student printed on its chubby green belly. Alex found her name and noticed that her caterpillar’s little red shoes seemed to be touching those of its neighbor. The caterpillar adjoined to hers had perfectly printed letters that spelled out CHASE.

Alex’s heart began to thud in her chest, fueling a body that no longer needed it. She stared at his name numbly, watching the letters bleed together until they meant nothing. Somehow she found her voice. “Is he here?”

Miss Petra didn’t answer.

Alex didn’t dare look at her while she forced herself to choke out the next question. “Or is Chase really gone?” The unexpected haze of comfort overcame her again. It smelled a bit like chocolate chip cookies, and although the scent was favorable, she swatted the air around her. “Why does that keep happening?” she grumbled.

“You would rather be miserable?”

If she didn’t have Chase, yes, she would rather be miserable. Not that she had ever had a choice in the matter. Joy would never accompany that sorrow. “Is he gone?” she repeated.

Miss Petra crossed her arms. “Let’s just leave it open-ended for now.”

Hope spread through Alex’s body like a sleeping limb awakening in a prickling of pins and needles. Painful but promising. She waited for this emotion to be swallowed up by the room, but strangely, it remained. Clearly, hope was allowed here.

“I am dead, right?”

“The idea of death is a state of mind. But then again, so is life. Most of what we are is mental.”

“You didn’t used to be so wishy-washy with your answers,” Alex remarked.

“This is a little more complicated than long division.”

So it seemed. “You said you thought I’d be gone from here soon.”

“Most people find death to be difficult. I don’t think you’re one of those people.”

“So why are you still here?”

Miss Petra’s eyes flickered again to the caterpillars. “We all find our purpose eventually. I made a choice, just like you will.”

“I’m not very good at making choices.”

“Of course not. Because others have always made them for you.”

“What’s left to choose if I’m dead?”

Miss Petra smoothed out her silky blouse. “Even in death we are still very much alive.”

The ambiguity of her answers was maddening.

“We have some things to discuss before you can leave. That’s why I’m here. So you can talk, laugh, cry, whatever you need to do to prepare yourself to make your decision.”

“I’m not going to cry.” Alex said.

The corner of Miss Petra’s bright red lips turned up in a smug smile. “Of course not. You were always so much stronger than you looked. ‘Tough as nails,’ your father once told me. When I learned you were coming, that was the second thing I bet on.”

Tough as nails. Yeah, Alex was sure her father would say something like that. She was a product of her environment. If Alex was a nail, her father was the iron that strengthened the steel. “What was the first thing you bet on?” Alex asked.

“That you would ask about Chase.” Miss Petra inched closer to Alex, her face twisted in awe. “I never saw two children, two people,” she corrected herself, “who were so immersed in one another. Everything about you, your behavior, your feelings, your desires, they were all braided together.”

Alex stared at Miss Petra accusingly. “You didn’t think it was so wonderful back then.”

“I don’t think I ever truly understood your relationship.”

“What do you mean?”

“Back then I didn’t think it was possible for an eight-year-old to have found the love of her life.”

2

Chase Lasalle was the youngest of four brothers. Even when they were in diapers, the Lasalle boys had been infamous in the town of Parrish. They looked like baby models with their innocently cherubic faces framed by halos of blonde hair. At a closer glance, their eyes gave them away, windows to their mischievous souls, though it was nearly impossible to witness any of the boys immobile long enough to notice. As preschoolers, they ruled the playground with a plastic fist. The power was in their effortless ability to turn life into a riveting game.

Their mother was friends with Alex’s mom long before the two shared a mat space at prenatal yoga. With three boys already, Danya Lasalle longed for a contrast from testosterone. Erin Ash just wished for health and happiness. Unfortunately, neither woman was granted her wish. Danya counted her blessings, nevertheless, when the doctors handed her another blue-blanketed bundle of joy, because she rested in a warm bed while Erin rested in a body bag. In a roundabout way, Danya got her wish, because Chase and Alex never left each other’s sight.

The Lasalle boys were less than thrilled when Alex tagged along during their adventurous excursions, especially since her fragile condition was often a buzzkill. But Chase was their weakness, and Alex was Chase’s weakness, so her presence was tolerated. Alex and Chase did everything together. At the circus, he’d pass her wads of cotton candy, waiting to take his share until she’d eaten hers. During baseball games, he punched his oversized mitt, hoping to catch a stray ball just for her. On trips to the beach, he held the bucket while Alex collected shells. Chase was her childhood, her partner in crime, and her saving grace.

“Chase saw this room too, didn’t he?”

“Why do you assume that?” Miss Petra asked. The window warped her reflection as raindrops collided with the glass, merging together into streams.

Chase’s presence was the lingering perfume of a candle long after burning out. “I can feel him. Like a ghost in the room.”

Miss Petra stiffened. “Yes, he was here. A long time. Longer than you will be, I think. He wasn’t as accepting of death. I think his choice was more difficult than yours will be.”

“Again, what’s left to choose? I thought after I died, my fate was kind of set in stone.”

“Freedom of choice doesn’t refute the idea of fate. Choices lead you to various paths, but some lives are intended to cross with others. It’s just in their design; some magnetically attract, and some also repel. So in that sense, there may be reasons why the universe pulls a person in a certain direction. But it’s impossible to control the decisions that a human makes.”

Alex only partially agreed. After all, no matter her choices, she would have ended up dead anyway. That was in her design. She’d been sick since day one. But not Chase. Not his family. They hadn’t been born with a death sentence like hers.

Miss Petra forced open one of the dingy windows, overwhelming Alex with deliciously fresh air. “How does a dead person still have a sense of smell?”

Miss Petra closed her eyes, breathing deeply. “Actually, your senses are much keener now.”

“That doesn’t seem logical.”

“Are your eyes still working?”

“Of course.”

“Although your eyes were part of your former body, which is ninety percent gone, your brain did most of the work to allow you to see, and your brain is still very much intact, working much harder, actually. Physical death is an awakening for your mind.”

This seemed rather oxymoronic to Alex. “How is that possible?”

Miss Petra held up three fingers. “In the physical life, you have to exercise mind, body, and spirit. In cognitive life, commonly known as the afterlife”—she took a finger away—“it’s just mind and spirit. Basically, the body is no longer inhibiting the other two.”

Alex was pleased to be getting some sort of explanation, even if it wasn’t completely clear. Confusing answers were better than no answers at all.

Miss Petra wrote the word SOUL on the blackboard in a large bubble. She then drew two lines, attaching two smaller bubbles, labeled MIND and BODY. It was like a pre-write for an English essay.

“All barriers break down once your fragile body is out of the picture. And the other two aspects, the ones that essentially make you who you are, are more vulnerable without the armor of the body.” Miss Petra lifted the chalk and wrote PHYSICAL next to BODY. “This world is over for you.”

“I think we’ve established that.”

She glanced over her shoulder with an expression of reprimand before writing MENTAL next to MIND. “In a nutshell, this is your afterlife. But the mind is a living thing, and it can’t live forever.”

“Why not?”

“Some just get old. Some aren’t stimulated enough. Some are beaten down.”

The idea of beating down a mind seemed silly. Alex pictured a geeky school competition with two debate teams of nerdy opponents in horrendous blue blazers, thick-rimmed glasses, and bad acne. “So you’re saying I’m not dead?”

“It’s all in how you choose to look at it. Your body is dead, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have options. Socrates said that death may be the greatest of all human blessings. Maybe he knew even more than we thought.”

“A blessing?”

The creases in Miss Petra’s youthful forehead deepened. “You don’t agree?”

Alex crossed her arms. Of course not. Death had been knocking on her decrepit door since the moment she was born, and then it arrived early to toy with her, to steal the only people who mattered to her. It wasn’t a blessing. It was cruel. “Why would I?”

“Considering your history … ”

“What do you mean?”

“You know to what I’m referring.” Miss Petra placed the chalk in a mug and began to straighten the objects on her desk. “Did you not consider taking your own life?”

Alex hadn’t realized her teacher would be privy to that information. Her arms were still crisscrossed protectively over her chest, but she peeked down nonetheless to be sure the scars were not exposed. “Something else happens to suicides. I’d have no chance of seeing Chase again.”

“Oh?” Miss Petra’s dark eyes grew wide. “And why would you think that?”

“Liv Frank told me.”

Miss Petra turned to the caterpillars. The capital letters spelling out Olivia’s name were slightly distorted. Kind of like Liv herself. “How would she know that?”

“Beats me. That’s just Liv.”

“And why would you take her of all people seriously?”

“If a Frank gives you advice, you listen,” Alex said.

For generations, the Franks had held the honor of being the strangest family in Parrish. Olivia Frank did not deviate from her ancestry. Like her relatives, she frequently spoke to herself in public, doubled over in laugher in a silent room, burst into tears for no reason, and saw no fault in any of it. But Alex liked her. She understood what it was like to be different.

“Remember the time she told us to bring umbrellas to class?” It was an incident difficult to forget. On the morning after Liv’s warning, a pipe burst in the ceiling, drenching anyone who had not believed her.

Miss Petra pointed to the chair that had once belonged to Liv. “In the midst of the chaos, she popped open her umbrella and grinned at me.”

“Liv knows things. So when she told me suicide would ruin everything, I listened, even though I didn’t agree.”

“Didn’t agree with what?”

“With her argument. She said I was lucky.” Alex exhaled loudly through her lips.

“She had a point.”

Alex shook her head. “I lived in a house with a man who never spoke to me. I used to think that one day it would change.” She’d thought perhaps the hatred would subside, but instead it resiliently clung to the stale reek of his whiskey-soaked existence. It grew each time he noticed her and glared at her, and it gathered in corners of the house like dust until it became visible, tangible, and sickening. “One time I knocked over a glass vase trying to make my own breakfast. I was maybe six or seven. He came into the kitchen, noticed me on a chair surrounded by a sea of glass, and just turned around and walked away. Oh, he threw the broom at me, though.”

“I’m sure Liv was referring to a luckier aspect of your life.”

Chase? If luck was so manipulative, she didn’t want it. Luck had allowed her to dance in circles around Chase for sixteen years, ignoring the feelings that clouded their air like pollen in the spring. Luck would not have allowed Chase to leave the traces of his feelings behind him after death in the form of tiny white papers. Luck would not create more pieces for Alex to pick up.

If she had been truly lucky, Alex never would have found the confessions strewn across her bedroom like confetti. In the eye of the snowstorm of paper, there was an open note that read:

A long time ago you told me that you would never make plans for your life because it would be like breaking promises to yourself. So I’ll make them for you. We’ll do everything in the world together. And you know I never break a promise.

Chase

P.S. We need to talk about what happened the other night.

What was all this? Alex had lowered her body to the floor, surrounded by what she momentarily presumed to be a sick joke. Maybe the notes were left by one of Chase’s brothers. Probably Jonas. He was mean enough to do it.

But on an old concert ticket, she recognized Chase’s handwriting:

This ticket seemed symbolic since this concert was entitled “Love and Memories.” My favorite part of the concert was definitely watching you push your way to the front of the stage only to be escorted back to our dinky lawn seats by security. The disappointment on your face was adorably cute. I promise in the future, I’ll get you backstage somehow.

She found the next note attached to a photograph taken when she and Chase were six, grinning so widely their eyes were mere slits while they sat on a porch of a Cracker Barrel:

Ah, the Lasalle family vacations. I remember rocking in those chairs with you and the only thought going through my head was, “I hope the tooth fairy can find me in Virginia.” So simple. So happy. I promise in the future, we will grow old enough that sitting in rocking chairs is actually cool. You can trip me with your walking stick and I’ll hide your dentures. We’ll laugh for another seventy years together.

Attached to a baseball memento:

The Baseball Hall of Fame. We were nine. It was the last place you wanted to be, but you sucked it up and smiled all day. I was so proud of you until I found out that my mother bribed you with a trip to New York to visit the American Girl store if you behaved during the trip. You’re such a brat. You may not want to visit American Girl anymore, but you never did get your trip to NYC. I promise I’ll take you there and we’ll go ice skating, and see the huge Christmas tree from Home Alone 2, and stay at the Plaza Hotel, “New York’s most exciting hotel experience.”

And a driver’s ed brochure:

Remember when I tried to teach you how to drive a stick shift in the parking lot of the Parrish Park Shopping Center? You stalled out, grinded gears, gave me whiplash, and made me laugh harder than I ever thought possible. And then the cops found us and took us home because we were only twelve. You still cannot drive stick to save your life. I promise you I will help you to perfect those skills.

Attached to a figurine of Cinderella’s castle:

My favorite moment in Florida was probably when you jumped into my lap during the Jaws ride at Universal Studios … or seeing Jonas throw up after riding the Teacups. It’s a tie. You said that one day you’d live in Cinderella’s castle. I told you that I would buy it for you. Somehow I promise to find a way.

The notes went on and on. So many promises attached to so many memories. They were dreams she’d never dared to imagine for herself because she wouldn’t live long enough for them to come true. Her body was too frail. But Chase was always true to his word, so when he said something, she believed it. She even believed the note that said he loved her.

That was luck? Hardly.

Because reading and believing Chase’s promises, the highest point in her pitiful life, was immediately followed by the lowest. Because she was wiping tears of happiness from her face at the same moment the Lasalle family van was smashed into a highway barrier by a Mack truck.

There were many adjectives people used to describe Alex Ash’s life. Lucky was never one of them.

3

Alex gestured to the word under which Miss Petra had drawn several emphatic lines. MIND. “If the life I have left is mental, what happens if my mind isn’t all there?” She searched for the right words. She’d spent the last year of her pathetic life in a drug-induced haze. “My mind is more than a little bit cracked.”

Miss Petra wiped the chalk from her hands. “Well, my dear, that’s kind of the purpose of our meeting here. You can leave it all behind you, you know.”

“Leave what?”

“Everything. Including the things that made your mind so fragile. Your mind can’t be damaged if it doesn’t exist, and thus you can’t feel pain.”

Alex mulled over the idea. No more sadness. No more regret. The offer was certainly tempting. She studied the door at the front of the room. It practically bulged from the force of the light behind it. Was it that easy?

“On the flip side,” Miss Petra added, “to be rid of pain is to be rid of its source as well.”

The source?

“What made you feel that life was no longer worth living?”

Alex suddenly understood. Her losses hovered around her, expanding into the air like smoke rings. “I wouldn’t remember any of it?”

“You can’t have a memory without a mind.”

“None of my life? Nothing about him.”

Another head shake.

“No,” Alex replied softly, “I would rather live without Chase than lose what I remember of him.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“You know, most people would consider you to be rather lucky to have something to make this decision so easy. You need to look deeper than the surface. You might not have been able to keep your body forever, or to keep Chase, but the things that exist forever are never in tangible form.”

Miss Petra walked swiftly to the back of the room and stood next to a door with an EXIT sign above it, a door Alex hadn’t noticed until now. There was no bright light behind this one. “Let me be clear. If what you said is true, then you are making the choice to keep living as who you are. You aren’t ready to give up your memories or, ultimately, the life you had. Therefore, you live as Alex Ash, with whatever life you have left in your mind.”

“That’s the choice? That’s it?”

“Yes. To remain here or not. And please be advised that the easy way out is literally right in front of you.”

Miss Petra pointed to the door at the front of the classroom. Trying to tempt Alex, the air from underneath the door rose like the scent of sweet sugar, calling her home.

“You and I both know how ugly the world can be. I’m sure you can imagine the possibilities when boundaries are broken. But you’ve never been one to take the easy road, have you?”

Alex rubbed her forehead, glancing at the door ahead through her fingers. The light behind it brightened. “Where does the shiny one lead? If I’m not really me anymore, who do I become there?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been through that door, but comfort hums through the cracks, so there’s no doubt in my mind what lies behind it is much easier than the alternative.”

Door number one was a mystery. Alex hated surprises. She twisted in her seat and looked again at the door in the back. “But what about that one? Can you tell me what I’ll become if I make that choice?”

The difficult one.

“Since the mind you had in the previous life still exists in the form of energy, the essence, or the spirit, of your former body is still intact.”

Spirit.

Alex leaned toward her teacher. Hope fluttered inside of her. “Ghosts?”

Miss Petra face contorted into disappointment. “Society has made that word so belittling.”

“But that’s what you meant? That’s what I’d become?”

“I realize it’s rather hard to conceive of the possibility.”

“Miss Petra, do you remember where I grew up?”

Like in most old towns, ghost stories in Parrish were a dime a dozen. Alex had had her fair share of paranormal experiences, so the possibility of ghosts was never something she questioned. Chase had been here in this room, too. Why would he have been here if he had not been asked to make this same decision? If any two paths were meant to collide, it would certainly be theirs. Alex’s heart continued to pump happiness through her useless veins in beautiful iambic beats, ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum. He’s here, he’s here, he’s here.

“Why me?”

“The ones who find themselves here have the strongest of spirits.”

Alex’s hands trembled, so she clasped them in her lap to hide it. Wrists down, of course. “How is one soul stronger than another?”

“Sometimes nature. Design. Heredity.”

Alex’s mind was clicking away a mile a minute. “And Chase? What did he choose?”

“I think you already know the answer.”

Alex took another good look at the door in the back, the one with darkness on the other side. Could death, which had toyed with Alex all her life, become her beginning again? Was Chase out there now, waiting? The thought of it made her spin around and turn her back on the light.

Miss Petra moved to the bookcase against the back wall and lifted a gray blazer draped over a stack of books. She slid into the jacket one arm at a time. “Sometimes you have to turn around to move forward.”

Something tugged at Alex, urging her from the chair. Desire? Optimism? “You aren’t exactly trying to convince me to stay.”

“Do you want me to?”

Instead of replying, Alex took a deep breath, stood up, and walked determinedly to the back of the room.

“Go ahead and open it,” Miss Petra instructed.

“You aren’t coming?”

She shook her head, gesturing to both doors. “I’m neither here nor there.”

“What do you mean?”

Miss Petra smiled slightly. “You don’t think these are the only two possibilities, do you?”

That’s exactly what Alex had thought, but she didn’t want to confuse herself any more, so she took one last look at her teacher and pushed open the door.

At first she couldn’t see or hear anything. And then it was like shaking water from her ears. She could hear the voice clearer than anything in her entire life.

She heard a loud gasp and a boy’s voice say, “My God, you look just like her.”

4

Alex never met her mother, never heard her voice. But she could probably pick it out of a lineup. There were many times as a child when she’d woken in the night to the soft whispers of a lullaby. Her mother had had the voice of an angel.

Parrish was a small town, and everyone knew Erin Ash. They knew about her unfortunate condition, the one she’d regrettably passed on to her daughter. Old ladies would cluck their tongues like they might scold a misbehaving child when Erin walked by with her swollen belly.

People always said Alex looked just like her mother. Some people even stopped on the street to gawk at her, no doubt wondering if they could add another ghost story to those that gave Parrish its fame.

You look just like her, the boy had said.

“You know my mom?” Alex hadn’t even considered that her mother might be here. She had only thought of Chase.

The boy’s voice was low. “She isn’t here. Not anymore.”

Alex blinked her eyes several times until her vision cleared. She stood face to face with a child, a boy whose smile faltered.

“Anymore?”

“Sometimes we don’t last very long,” the boy replied, taking a step forward. “Come on out.”

Alex’s shoulders slumped. Once again she was too late to know her mother. She abandoned the cover of the doorway, and was surprised when her foot touched the ground. She had shoes. And real clothes. She ran her manicured nails through the waves of her honey-colored hair. “How did that happen?” she asked, hugging herself. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Dead or alive, we all create a small version of our own reality in our minds. Here you can just project it more effectively. I take it you recognize your clothes.”

Of course she recognized her favorite jeans, her favorite shirt, and even the bracelet she’d worn every day since Chase had given it to her.

“How did you know my mom?”

“She was my friend.”

Alex ignored the pang of jealousy. “What happened to her?”

The boy tilted his head up at the sky and blinked through the raindrops. “Let’s save that for another time. Please. We have to get going now.”

She held her palms upward. The rain sent tiny electric pings through her skin, but didn’t leave it moist. She rubbed her fingers together. “Why can’t I feel the rain?”

He grinned. “You’re thinking of how the rain felt before.”

“Oh.”

“You’ll get used to it. Your senses are just different now, that’s all.”

He jabbed his thumb in the direction of a path and began to walk. She stole a look back at the doorway, surprised to find a moss-covered bunker with only darkness behind its open door. Miss Petra was gone, and the safety and familiarity of her classroom had vanished with her. Maybe Alex shouldn’t have been in such a hurry to leave. She had no choice now but to follow the boy.

Despite the overcast sky, their glittery green surroundings sparkled as though the trees were comprised of emeralds. Everything around her was adorned in shades of color so much more brilliant than she’d ever seen before.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” the boy called over his shoulder.

“Yes,” Alex said, watching the rain around her jumping like colorful flashes of heaven. “Where are we?”

He chuckled. “California.”

“Yeah, right.”

“No, I’m serious. It’s the same old Earth. You can just see it better now.”

Crayola would have a field day with this place. The colors embellished everything, even the dreary canopy of clouds twinkling like a gray diamond. “It doesn’t seem fair that everyone can’t see this way.”

“Hmm. You wouldn’t appreciate it so much if your eyes had always been so open. Sometimes things only become clear when they don’t exist anymore.”

Alex listened to the trees whispering a song that sounded like her name. The trunks were so large it was like weaving through the legs of giants. Branches of the smaller, twig-like trees curled their fingertips in hello.

“They like you. I can tell.”

Alex caught up and fell into step next to her tiny companion, who carried an aura of comfort. She stole glances at him while they sloshed through the kaleidoscope of colors. His baby-fine hair fell over his chocolate-brown eyes and pale skin.

“Who are you?” she finally asked.

He kicked his feet up slightly while treading down the muddy pathway shining radiantly like a river of dark gold. “My name is Ellington Reynes.”

An inappropriate name. It was much too grown up for a boy who was doomed to look like a cub scout for the rest of his life.

“I’m the one who saw your arrival,” he informed her proudly.

“Saw it?”

“In my head. I’ve been seeing arrivals now for decades.”

Alex took in his babyish features. “How old are you?”

“Don’t be fooled by the bowl cut. I’m much older than you.”

“How old were you when you died?”

“Twelve.”

“You don’t even look ten.”

“I was short for my age.” he said, leading her to the bank of a torrential river.

Alex skidded to a halt. “Is there a bridge?”

Ellington stepped right onto the rolling tide and swung his arms playfully as he strode across. “We are the bridge!” The water acted as a crooked treadmill, carrying him downstream, but he remained unfazed and leaped casually onto the opposite bank.

“Your turn,” he called, spinning back around to face Alex.

She froze at the water’s edge. She couldn’t do this.

“Are you just going to stand there?” Laughter rose from the splashing current, and Ellington lifted his finger to his lips to hush it. “Go on,” he urged her, crouching down to watch with the expression of a father seeing his child taking a first step.

Alex bent to touch the water. Her outstretched fingers shook, making contact with the gelatinous surface. The shock of electricity from the river stung much more than the rain, and buzzed like a headache. She straightened up and stepped gingerly onto the water. Her body jerked to the left. She flailed her arms to steady herself, shuffling the rest of the way without lifting her feet.

“Nice job.”

“You made that look way too easy,” she said, tumbling to Ellington’s side.

“I’ve had more practice.”

Alex watched the water lapping and splashing the shore. “Could I still go in the water?”

“Be my guest.”

She pressed her fingers against the surface, which yielded somewhat but did not allow her to breach it. She raised her palms. Now what?

“Think a little harder about breaking the plane,” Ellington offered. “You need to use your mind. You’re weightless now, so you are going to have to use a little willpower.”

Alex nudged the water, but it was like pushing on putty.

“Try again.”

She concentrated harder. Finally her hand shot through the static goo, which felt like a breeze. She raked her fingers through the wonderfully unsettling energy. “Wow,” she breathed.

Ellington crouched down. “You’ll like it here.” He patted the water like a pet. “If you don’t mind me asking, what makes someone like you choose this alternative?”

“Someone like me?”

“Well, you weren’t exactly in love with life.”

Chase, Alex thought to herself. Even now, without knowing where Chase was or how long it would be before she saw him again, merely the idea of knowing it would happen was enough. If he existed in his world, they’d find each other.

Ellington pushed himself to a stand. “Besides the obvious reason.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I saw you arrive, I saw a few other things, too. It’s just something I’ve always been able to do. It’s kind of like watching a trailer for a movie. As the images appear, I get little bits and pieces of the person arriving, and then I wait for them.”

“Do they always show up?”

“No.”

“What did you see about me?”

“Chase.” He sighed. “All I saw was Chase.”

* * *

As a child, Chase couldn’t fathom the idea that his best friend was sick. Alex had too much energy. When he stood next to her, he could feel it like the static electricity he learned about in science class. So then how could she somehow have less life than he did?

He knew it was called Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, and he’d heard Alex’s doctor say things like type four and vascular and dangerous. He knew Alex’s mother had been sick with it, too. And her mother was dead.

“They don’t look any different to me,” Chase whispered to his mother. That morning they had driven into the city so Alex could attend some sort of meeting. There was a huge banner outside the Baltimore Convention Center that read Learning Conference: Living with EDS. Jonas had snorted and told Alex she was going to a freak show. Chase had punched him in the belly, and to his shock and amazement, his mother turned her head and didn’t scold him. And now, sitting outside the convention center, the people walking inside didn’t look strange at all.

“There are different kinds of EDS,” Danya explained to him, ruffling his hair. “Some are worse than others.”

“Worse than Alex’s?”

Danya shifted on the bench. “No. Alex has the worst kind.”

“She doesn’t look sick.”

“That’s because most of it is inside her body.” She pointed to his arm. “You have tissues in there. Don’t scrunch your face like that! They aren’t the same kind that you blow your nose with. Your tissues hold your body together. Alex’s tissues don’t work quite as well as yours.”

No kidding. One time he’d pulled on her arm to get her attention and her shoulder fell out of its socket. He’d cried the entire way to the hospital because he’d hurt her.

“In our tissues, we have something called collagen. And if collagen is like the glue of body, the normal person has liquid cement while Alex has cheap Elmer’s glue.”

“Is that why Jonas says that Alex was assembled at Kmart?”

His mother rolled her eyes. “Probably, but Jonas really shouldn’t say that. I’ll speak to him.”

Chase fiddled with the Velcro on the pocket of his shorts. “I still don’t get it.”

“What?”

“Why is it such a big a deal?”

“Tissues support your skin, which is why Alex bruises easily. And they hold your bones together, which is why hers are more likely to break.”

“But broken bones don’t kill you,” he argued. “Why did her mom die?”

His mother’s face crumbled, and he felt that pang in his chest that told him he’d said something wrong. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry. I just miss her.” Between her hands, she rolled a pamphlet she’d picked up that morning at the convention. “Tissues also support your organs. Like your heart. That’s an organ. The things inside you that keep you alive, and if they aren’t supported properly, you could bleed inside your body. That’s what happened to Alex’s mommy when Alex was born. They couldn’t stop the bleeding.”

“Is that why her dad hates her?”

“He doesn’t hate her.”

Chase looked at his mom doubtfully, but quickly shifted his attention to several people exiting the convention center. His heart fluttered in hope, but his friend wasn’t among them. He couldn’t believe his mother had made him stay out here instead of letting him go in with Alex. This was all Miss Petra’s fault. Their teacher was the one to suggest that Alex’s friendship with the Lasalles might be detrimental to her health. She was always trying to put them in separate groups during class or encouraging Alex to hang out with the other girls during recess. Thankfully, Alex ignored the suggestions. But within the past few months, Alex had broken three different bones during their adventures with his brothers. So her dumb doctor recommended she meet other kids who were “limited” too.

A selfish part of Chase wanted Alex to come screaming out of that door. Usually they joked about her illness. They would look at the bruises on her arms and laugh about what they saw … like lying in the grass and finding images in the clouds, only these clouds were stormy. She was going to be sick no matter what, so what good would it do to sit around and talk about it? Alex didn’t like to think she was different, so he was sure she wouldn’t enjoy this experience. Or at least that’s what he hoped. After all, he needed her as much as she needed him.

She just never understood that.

“It wasn’t so bad,” Alex told him later that day. The convention had dampened their spirits, and they sat dejectedly on a log by the beach. “They had doughnuts. That was cool.”

Chase picked up a stick and pressed it into the sand. He drew a weaving line from his feet to hers and then traced an identical one beside it, tying them together.

“It was kind of depressing, though,” she added. “Sitting around and talking about death isn’t exactly my idea of a good time.”

Was it bad that he was relieved to hear that?

“It just sucks to know I’m not normal and it will only get worse.”

“Who said you weren’t normal?”

Alex laughed. “Wasn’t that the whole point of going today?”

He threw the stick across the beach. “Those people are stupid, Alex, and so is your doctor. You are normal.”

Alex bent her hand backwards so that her finger practically tickled her forearm. “That’s normal?”

“Lots of people are double-jointed.”

“I can’t do half the things other kids can do.”

“Like what?”

“I can’t participate in gym.”

“And most of the other girls wish they could sit out, too.”

She pointed out her collection of bruises. “I can’t wakeboard with you guys. I have to sit in the boat like a baby. I can’t ski. I can’t even go sledding.”

To top off her argument, Alex pulled at the collar of her shirt, revealing the maze of veins branching across her chest like blue coral. Evidence of her vulnerability.

Chase shrugged. “It just looks like a really cool tattoo,” he said, and when Alex’s face broke into a huge smile, he felt light enough to fly.

“I never thought about it like that!” She glanced down into her shirt. “You’re right!”

Apparently, fate overheard their foolish conversation, because that night Alex broke her ankle simply rolling over in bed.

Chase presented her with a teddy bear in the ER, patted her back and said, “Who wants to be normal, anyway?”

5

Alex stared at Ellington while they walked, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Do you see much about the lives of the people you meet?”

“Not a whole lot. Just fragments of the important parts.”

The wind picked up, dancing through the gargantuan trees. Their voices reminded her of the woods at home. They had stories to tell.

“So, there are ghosts all over the world?”

Ellington nodded. “Some more civilized than others.”

Alex watched her feet trudging through the muddy path, but she noticed only one set of footprints trailed behind them. Those belonged to Ellington. “How did I end up back there? And how did you know where I would be?”

“Because everyone I see shows up there.”

Every answer fed her curiosity. “Can I keep asking questions?”

“Please. That’s why I’m here.”

“Why don’t I have any footprints?”

“Because you aren’t thinking about making them. You’ve chosen to be in a mental world, but you really don’t know what that means yet. You will, though.”

“Why do you think people choose to be like this?”

Ellington cocked his head. “I suppose some people have trouble letting go of who they are, or who they were. Some, I think, are merely curious about omnipresence, knowing what people are doing without their awareness. Most don’t realize how much they hate it until they taste it. Others do it for the clout.”

Alex dodged a bird flying by. It flashed with light like a crystal in the sun. “Clout?”

“Power. You’d be surprised what your mind is capable of.”

“I don’t get it. What does a spirit do? Hover around and watch people?”

“Maybe once upon a time that’s how it was, but now there’s much more to it,” he explained. “You’ll learn more about this soon, but a while back spirits became a problem.”

“Why?”

“Exactly what you said. All they did was hover, observe. Mischief is the product of an idle mind. A life without walls opens a Pandora’s box of new temptations. Just because a soul is spirited enough to come here doesn’t mean it is good. Therefore, a solution was created. Much like in the physical world, once our numbers grew, someone had to step up and take control. The result is about fifty feet ahead of us.”

They reached a fortress of black, leafless trees with branches intertwined from the ground up. Nature had weaved the bark so intricately that Alex doubted she could find a hole large enough to fit an arm through. The branches continuously twisted into a word she’d never heard before. “Eidolon.” The term tasted magical, and she licked her lips to savor it.

“Eidolon,” Ellington echoed with a content sigh.

More colossal redwoods waited through the gate. There were no buildings, no signs. There was no one there to greet them. She reached out her hands, but could only grasp the “bars” like any normal person.

“How do we get through?”

You’re here?

Alex gasped. The melody of Chase’s voice soared through her mind like a tranquilizer, engulfing her with a happiness she’d long forgotten. Distracted, Alex failed to notice Ellington reaching for her hand. The electric pressure of his grasp startled her, but the prickles of electricity preceded something much worse. Stepping through the branches was like passing through a cookie cutter of needles. Alex attempted to pull away from the pain embedded in the bark, but Ellington wouldn’t allow it. A scream exploded silently within her, deepening with the pressure of the punctures. With a lurch, she reached the other side. The torment left no traces but white sparks of shock erupting from all around her.

“Allow the discomfort to remind you that you exist. It’s alarming, I know, but I promise you’ll get used to it,” Ellington assured her. He brushed his hair from his forehead. “I hate to rush you, because I know how distressing the experience is for the first time, but unfortunately, we need to hurry.”

She felt vulnerable and frightened, but the echo of Chase’s voice motivated her. Stiffly, she followed Ellington, each step easier than the last. They ascended a hill and reached a wall composed of mossy stones with palettes of tired blue and smoky gray. A small archway stood crookedly off center, etched with the words Ab Vitam.

For Life, Alex translated in her head. The Latin had been inscribed on her great uncle’s tombstone. He died during World War II, and she had often passed his tombstone when she visited her mother’s grave. Alex had thought during those visits how ironic it was to carve those two words on a stone that marks the existence of death.

As they stepped through the archway, Alex noticed that they were venturing through a series of walls, each one tilting at a different angle. She shuffled through one disorienting arc after another, feeling like the rotating hand of a clock.

Darkness shrouded the sky when they finally reached a courtyard framed by two black L-shaped buildings. They towered in size, and thus Alex realized the purpose of the mammoth trees. Crossbreeds between skyscrapers and medieval churches, the epic structures stood blatantly out of place in the middle of the forest. Crookedly placed gothic stones comprised the misshapen framework, each block cracked into a unique form. It was imperfection at its best.

“This is it?” Alex whispered.

Ellington’s shoulders relaxed. “It’s a small part of Eidolon, but it’s a good place to start.”

A rippling of fog lapped at her ankles like an airborne stream. Outlining the rickety, stone pathways through the courtyard, hazy streetlights stood at attention allowing ivy to coil around their bases. This is exactly what she’d expected a ghost town to look like. The scene was daunting and exquisite in a fabulously eerie kind of way.

One was thing missing. “Where are all the people?”

“I’m not sure of the time,” Ellington said. “But I assume the sessions are still in progress.”

“Sessions?”

“Like workshops. There’s so much you don’t know about this afterworld.”

“You make it sound like school,” she said with a grimace.

“The actual city is farther that way.” Ellington pointed through a gap between the two buildings. “But where we stand now is Eidolon’s Brigitta Square, a campus where the newly buried must stay.”

“How long?”

“A few years.”

“And I have to take sessions here? Or workshops, whatever they’re called.”

“I think you’ll appreciate all there is to learn.”

“Learn about what?”

“Being a spirit.”

Alex looked down at herself. “But I already am a spirit.”

“Were you not a person when you were born? And yet you still had a lot to learn, right?”

Alex had no counterargument, so she merely crossed her arms.

Ellington smirked. “Remember when you asked how I was able to cross the river so gracefully? It wasn’t because I’ve crossed it so many times before, although I’m sure that helps. It’s because I was able to calculate how quickly I needed to walk based on the speed of the moving water.”

She recalled that he hadn’t even hesitated at the riverbank. “How did you do that?”

“My mind. You can do it too. You just don’t know how yet.”

“I hate math.”

“You won’t hate it when you realize how good you are at it. You need to learn to use the new capacity of your intellect. Why do you think a learning center was built inside the city? And besides, you can’t just be thrown into a world without knowing the rules.”

Spirits had rules?

“People have difficulty dealing with the concept of death. The learning, the people, the campus—they help the newly dead to cope.”

“And I would live here?”

He stretched his hand towards a door that stood poised in its elegance with Brigitta carved above the frame. “Right there, but we’re waiting on someone.”

Alex felt a pounding in her chest. Her mind hadn’t forgotten what anticipation felt like.

“I have no idea what’s keeping her. She’s usually very punctual.”

Alex’s heart sank. Her. Not Chase.

Ellington stood tapping his foot, checking the sky, and fidgeting with a button on the cuff of his shirt.

“What’s the matter?”

“I wish I knew what time it was.”

She reached out for his wrist. “Why don’t you just use that watch?”

His mouth popped open in surprise. “I hadn’t even realized I had one.” He rubbed his head. “It still gets me sometimes.”

“What does?”

“You’ll find out soon enough. And, oh, it’s later than I thought. It’s going to be very crowded here soon.” He lifted a hand and began to nibble on his nails. “Stay here. I’m going to see if I can find her.”

“Can’t I go with you?”

“You won’t be able to get in.”

Alex inspected the door for a lock but realized it didn’t even have a knob. “But you can?”

“I used to live here. A long time ago.” Ellington approached the monstrosity of a door, and it swung open with a groan of welcome. “I’ll be right back. It will only take me a minute.” The door slammed immediately behind him, reinforcing the idea that Alex was uninvited.

Before a minute passed, Alex heard the creaking of another door, and a boy emerged from the fog. He darted through the archway connecting the two buildings and disappeared without noticing her. The way her anxiety began to rise, Alex could have been standing in a room at the bottom of the ocean and hearing the first drip of water seeping through the cracks.

The door opened again. Drip. And again. Drip, drip. It leaked out spirit after spirit. They were very diversely dressed, to say the least. Their attire ranged from sundresses to prom dresses, rainy day sweats to runway chic. No one else seemed to think this was strange. Despite their differences, they swam together, immersed in the same air of excitement, like it was the last day before a holiday.

Some of them noticed Alex and began giggling or elbowing one another. How ironic, Alex thought, that a girl in a bathrobe was eying her like she was the oddball. And then came the flood.

The doors of the building burst open, releasing dozens of spirits who spilled out into the square. Alex had to move with the tide to avoid being trampled. As she treaded among the crowd, she couldn’t be sure if they were staring because of her frail appearance—her size had always generated attention—or because in a small setting like this one, a new face stood out.

The attention only increased when Alex broke away from the current to stand alone in the corner of the square. The whispers and the pointing didn’t bother her, but the paranoia did. Kids stood on tiptoe, scanning the perimeter, and some covered their heads with their books. Alex tried to ignore them and keep her focus, searching for Chase. Hoping.

She probably wouldn’t have seen it coming if not for the eruption of screams. A dark shadow inched across the crowd. Above it, a stone boulder of a bench arched to the peak of its height and surrendered to gravity.

Ellington had not been lying about the new extent of her mind. Now that she thought about it, she could see the trajectory of the object, as though someone had used a marker to trace it in the air. The bench was set to land on the crown of her head. In that split second, she could even visualize exactly where the pieces would land once the bench was demolished.

Instinctively she thought to run, a logical reaction, but before she could move, an unexplainable energy tugged at her brain. She cried out as her head filled with pressure like a screeching teapot. She feared her skull might burst, and prayed for the pain to release her. It aptly obeyed, shooting from her, detonating like a bomb, forcing her to her knees. The granite bench halted above her, colliding with an invisible barrier. It fell to the ground and landed with five simultaneous claps of thunder.

Alex remained on her knees, head in her hands, arms shaking like she had just bench-pressed three hundred pounds, and all the weight had landed on her throbbing head. The whispers commenced, but in shock now instead of curiosity. Everyone turned to gawk at her.

As the dust cleared, there was a figure walking towards her, his shoulders thrown back in a familiar stance of confidence. A moment later, his arms were around her. But something didn’t feel right. His grip was too tight, and his build was too bulky. Alex realized then that it was Jonas Lasalle, and not his brother, who was burying his face in her hair.

6

Jonas Lasalle had never been speechless in his life. He was actually quite proud of his big mouth. But when he saw Alex, it took him a few moments to find his voice. He had known she would join them eventually; the girl had been a walking corpse since birth, but it still didn’t prepare him. There she was. Alive. Prettier than ever. Alone. Without Chase around to distract her, to hover over her like a canopy, hell-bent on preventing her from having any fun in life.

Who the hell had thrown that bench? Usually when new kids arrived someone would throw a rock or a book at them. It was a barbaric form of initiation, but it was also hilarious. Most boys ran away while the girls screamed like their lives were ending all over again. But not Alex.

He smirked, listening to the kids around him.

“Who did that?”

“How did it explode?”

“Forget that, who threw it?”

“How did she do that?”

He strutted forward, blinded by the dust that stubbornly hung in the air alongside his anticipation. When she saw him, her face twisted into such an expression of joy that Jonas supposed Chase had appeared right behind him. But that was impossible. Chase was gone. For the time being, at least.

He forgot himself and wrapped his arms around her. Her shock was tangible. He could feel it emanate from her. The fact that he was hugging her was certainly uncharacteristic. Of all the Lasalles, Jonas knew he was considered to be the least likeable, especially in Alex’s eyes. As a child he had ridiculed her. He’d kicked her shins, pulled her hair, hid her belongings, and once even locked her in an old trunk. Now he was hugging her. This PDA went against the image he’d tried so hard to maintain his whole life. He was a desperado of a boy who was acting like he needed a place to rest his reckless head, and he knew it.

He hated to admit it, but he could get used to it.

Alex’s arms hung stiff at her sides until Jonas finally let go.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Bad joke, he thought to himself, cursing loudly in his head. None of this was funny. But Alex’s face broke into a smile, and they both began to laugh. And they kept on laughing until they were practically holding each other for support.

It felt good.

Alex composed herself. “And your brothers? Are they here too?”

Annoyance tasted like a mouthful of salt. Jonas tried to keep it from showing on his face. Before he could answer, the door of the Brigitta building swung open. Ellington Reynes emerged, looking antsy.

Oh, not this guy, Jonas thought with a roll of his eyes. Ellington was way too serious for his liking.

“I’m so sorry, Alex,” Ellington said, nodding to acknowledge Jonas. He didn’t seem surprised at all to see Jonas standing there.

Ellington had been the one to greet him at the gates of Eidolon, and he had access to various milestones in Jonas’s former life. How did Ellington interpret his odd history with Alex? Judging by the knowing look on his face, he’d seen enough. Damn it.

“I’m afraid the Brigitta director is detained at the moment.”

“That means you can’t get in the building,” Jonas informed Alex before turning to Ellington. “I’m willing to bet that Romey will be gone the rest of the day. She had to take care of my brother.”

Ellington groaned. “Not again.”

“Yep.”

“Where?”

“No idea.”

“Which brother?” Alex demanded, interrupting them.

“Your favorite one.” Jonas tried to wipe the salty taste from his lips. He watched Ellington begin to bite his nails. “At least Chase didn’t get anywhere this time. He was caught pretty early.”

“Any other newbury would have been expelled by now.”

“Newbury?” Alex cut in.

“Newly buried, like you.” Ellington paused, noticing the large slabs of granite scattered throughout the courtyard. He cringed at what was left of the bench. “Is this what I think it is?”

“If you’re thinking that a bench the size of a standard midsized sedan came flying at Alex’s head, then yes,” Jonas replied.

Ellington huffed. “They didn’t waste any time, did they? I take it you were forced to run for your life?”

“Actually,” Jonas said, “she diverted it.”

“She what?”

“You heard me.”

Ellington closed his eyes tightly, as if some secret was out of the bag. “She can’t just stay out here until Romey returns.”

Jonas sensed the opportunity. “I’ll just take her with me. I’m heading to Lazuli Street now, and then we’ll be back for curfew.”

Ellington looked wary. “That is probably the last thing she should be subjected to on her first day here. It will probably scare her a bit.”

“Might as well rip off the Band-Aid.” He glanced at Alex, satisfied to see that she was stepping closer to him.

“What’s Lazuli Street?”

“If you come along, I’ll show you.”

Ellington didn’t look convinced. “I’d feel better if I could join you.”

A chaperone was the last thing Jonas wanted.

“But I have a meeting in the city at the Dual Tower.”

Score.

“You’ll probably find Romey there,” Jonas said eagerly. “I think that’s where they took Chase.”

Alex opened her mouth, but Jonas held up a hand to shush her. “Cool it,” he warned. Alex crossed her arms in frustration, and the way she stuck out her lower lip was kind of adorable. He did his best to ignore it. “It’s a masque. She’ll be fine.”

“That’s true. I’ll meet you back here before curfew, just in case,” Ellington said. “Alex, will you be okay?”

“Don’t worry,” Jonas said. “She’s tougher than she looks.” He took Alex’s arm and she followed obediently.

As they departed, Jonas heard Ellington mutter under his breath, “She’ll need to be.”

Wrong, Jonas thought. Alex would finally be able to make her own choices. She wasn’t made of glass anymore.

7

Alex didn’t care where Jonas led her. He was a piece of home. She’d rather be in the company of familiarity than be left alone.

They crossed through the courtyard, and Alex thought the scene was like something out of a dream. The rain had stopped, but several spirits formed circles around the dark puddles. They held their hands above the water, which rose and fell like a solid object, morphing like putty. Near them, a mob chanted for what appeared to be an unorthodox race. Two spirits sprinted towards each other until, in the split second before collision, one disappeared, like a game of invisible chicken. Jonas called it “child’s play.”

Though the sun had not decided to show itself at all that day, it appeared the moon was much more curious as to what was going on below. As the day died, the sky darkened in mourning, and the clouds parted for the moon to peek through.

“Jonas,” Alex began. “Was that normal?”

“What?”

“That bench?”

Jonas let out a little laugh. “It’s normal when you’re new. I’m not sure when the tradition started, but it’s like a rite of passage around here.”

“It isn’t very nice.”

“You’re dead, Alex. Don’t be so sensitive.”

She glared at him. “What’s the point of it?”

“I guess to see the reaction. To see the new kids squirm.” He stepped over a dimple in the stone walkway. “That dent is from Kaleb’s initiation. He had a tree nearly fall on him. Newburies don’t usually demolish the object like you did.”

“I have no idea what happened,” Alex admitted. How could she even be sure she’d been the one who caused the explosion? The only thing she’d done was wish for the pain to cease.

“It would be weird if you did.”

The wind flitted through Alex’s hair. It reminded her of childhood bike rides, or cruising in Kaleb’s jeep with Chase at her side, and she wished for him. “Jonas, what did Chase do? Why is he in so much trouble?” A shadow flashed across Jonas’s face, but it happened too quickly for Alex to identify the sentiment. For a moment, the air was filled with the sharp reek of salty bay water.

“He got a taste for breaking the rules, and I guess he liked it.”

Not likely. Chase was never one to stray from order, but to Alex’s exasperation, Jonas didn’t seem willing to offer more of an explanation.

“Where are we going?”

Jonas looked back haughtily over his shoulder. “There’s a festival tonight.”

“A what?”

“A festival. Like a party.”

She doubted this day could become any stranger. Death, third grade, California, and now a party? A part of her would prefer to curl into a ball and take time to process this unbelievable world, but Jonas wasn’t the type to sit at her side and pat her hand. If she needed to go to this festival in order to keep him around, she’d do it.

“Feel that charge around us? Spirits like to let loose. You’ll learn that pretty quickly.” He skirted around some loose bricks. “One of the perks of being dead. With all the time in the world, why not have a little fun?”

She understood what he meant about the charge. The air around them began to tremble. “Is that why you’re dressed up?”

Jonas hurriedly rolled the sleeves of his button-down shirt. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“How could you not know what you’re wearing?”

“Because it changes according to my mood.”

“Is everyone that way?”

“Of course.”

That explained the eccentrically dressed kids in the courtyard. Ellington had said the mind created its own version of reality. She just hadn’t realized how public it would be.

“You look nice,” Alex noted. “Is there an occasion for this party?”

“Actually, yes. Autumn is like Christmas around here. Best time of the year. A small piece of the world dies for a bit, just like us. Spirits celebrate all over the world. One of these days I’m going to travel to one of the larger festivals. I hear it’s insane in other countries because they aren’t confined to the city like we are.”

Jonas always used his hands for emphasis when he spoke, and she noticed he had something clutched in one of his fists. “What’s that?”

“My mask for the festival. It’s a masquerade.”

This kept getting worse. “I have to dream up a costume?”

“Or maybe we can just find a sheet to throw over your head.”

Alex bit her lip. How ironic that after everything she’d been through in the past few hours, her biggest concern was a costume.

“I’m kidding,” Jonas said with a roll of his eyes. “Can’t you hear it yet? The music? It’s already started.”

They crossed through a guard of gnarled trees and emerged onto a dark cobblestone road. Knobby lampposts with orange lights bathed the throngs of people who flooded the streets. Alex glanced up at the signpost. They stood on Lazuli Street, but she could not read the name of the adjacent road because the sign itself wore a feathered, birdlike mask.

“If you can’t dream up a costume, here you go.” Jonas stopped next to a table that was littered with disguises and nodded at the vendor. He took a blue mask with peacock feathers, and fastened it gently around Alex’s head. “Now you don’t have to be the new girl until tomorrow.”

Alex liked this idea. No one would be staring at her tonight; she could be the one doing the watching. Since when did Jonas understand her so well? “What’s the purpose of the masks?”

“It’s tradition. Like I said, some festivals are outside of our own cities. If everyone wears masks, no one can distinguish the living from the dead.”

The party was like Mardi Gras. People hung over the distorted iron balconies of the shops, toasting with stemmed glasses in their hands and shouting merrily to the people who danced and sang below. Games with dice and wheels, bands, tables of books, and holograms of advertisements lined the streets. Vendors smiled and offered vials, stones, or odd-looking gadgets. Some tables were even clustered with steaming cups, from which Alex shied away. What could a spirit possibly drink?

Was Chase somewhere in this mess? Would she even recognize him if he was? Yes, she thought without doubt. Even if she were blind, she could find Chase.

Alex watched a girl peel off Jonas’s mask and hand him an alternative, this one more like a headdress of a great black bear. Jonas laughed loudly, his face engulfed by the fangs of the beast. The girl thrust a champagne glass in his hand, filled with a gray swirling mist, and he tipped back his head to empty it.

The exchanging of masks seemed to be the custom. The first person who tore off Alex’s mask surprised her so greatly that she cried out in shock, though the noises around her drowned it out. The girl narrowed her eyes at Alex and opened her mouth to speak, but Alex quickly snatched her cardinal red mask in return.

The horde of hidden faces and maniacal laughter disoriented her. Alex clung tightly to Jonas’s arm. He stiffened, and through the fangs of the bear, Alex could see uneasiness flicker in his eyes. In that same instant, Alex was jostled by the crowd. Jonas had no choice but to catch her fall. He helped her find her feet again, his expression unreadable.

“Crazy, huh?” he whispered into her ear. “You should see this place on All Soul’s Day. It’s twice as nuts.”

An invisible wave herded them to the right, out of the street and up the sidewalk. The crowd sliced itself in half cleanly, making way for something Alex could only see on tiptoe. It resembled an approaching fog the way it drifted above the heads of the partygoers who clapped and cheered in excitement. Alex jumped and swayed from left to right to get a better view, but she was too small.

Jonas watched her with amusement. “Come on,” he said, grabbing her hand and elbowing his way to the edge of the crowd.

And then Alex could see that it wasn’t a fog at all, but dancers. They moved like nothing she’d ever seen before. Weightless and wispy like rolling clouds, they moved so rapidly that their black and white costumes created a gray haze to shroud them. She stood dumbstruck and mesmerized until something she feared was blood began to splash out into the crowd. These dancing storm clouds produced a horrific rain. She stepped even closer to Jonas.

“Don’t worry. They’re poppy flowers.”

A red drop landed on her forearm. He was right. It was only a petal.

As the dancers continued on their path, trickling by in perfect cadence, their porcelain masks hid all the emotion their movements so sublimely portrayed. Behind them, the crowd spilled back into the street, a confluence of the two masses.

Just as quickly as the dancers arrived, they were gone. Alex realized she hadn’t been breathing this entire time, not that it mattered. She exhaled, and her cold breath became visible. All that was frozen burst back to life with new vigor.

A jazz band kicked into gear above them. Alex felt a zap of energy and noticed a hand resting lightly on her shoulder. “Care for a reading, young one?”

“Sorry?”

The cat-like mask only covered the eyes of the woman who spoke, and Alex watched the corners of her lips curl upward in an appropriately feline sort of way.

“No thanks.” Jonas yanked Alex’s hand and pulled her back into the street. “Stay away from those,” he hissed, jerking his head in the direction of the shop.

“Those what?”

“Aura readers. They’re like fortune tellers.”

“Oh.” She glimpsed back over her shoulder with interest.

“Don’t even think about it. They’re unreliable.”

The street forked, and Jonas steered Alex to the left, where the noise was less deafening. Puffy lollipop trees lined the road, their color fading in and out like blinking Christmas lights.

“How are they doing that?” Alex asked. Another spirit stole her mask, leaving her with shimmery feathers resembling angel wings.

“Too many feelings,” Jonas said. “They can’t decide.”

“This place is really confusing.”

“It’s kind of like how spirits are dressed around here. It’s just their mood affecting their appearance.” He waved his hand at the trees. “They have feelings too. Who would’ve guessed?”

He led her to a top of a hill where they found a clearer view of the fireworks popping in the sky around the moon, which sat idly like an eye without a pupil, a neglectful babysitter. A mob of spirits gathered on the hill, dancing underneath the bright colors, but Jonas didn’t stop. He continued through the crowd until they stood overlooking a valley.

The first thing Alex noticed was a ring of lights that circled the lower grounds like a halo. “What is that?”

Jonas grinned. “That’s the real field of dreams.”

It was a park with several playing fields, each one congested with spirits. Alex heard childish laughter rising from the fields like a vapor, and a glow emanated around it.

“Ballparks?” Alex asked, shaking her head in disbelief. “Really?”

“Why do you look so surprised?”

The scent of hot dogs and spring grass permeated the night. “You didn’t think this was crazy the first time you saw it?”

“Eh. Maybe just that court made of trampolines. What did you expect? Tombstones? We’re kids here. It’s like a giant playground. There’s even a skate park. Kids dream about something like this.”

“This isn’t a dream, though.”

“No, you’re right. It isn’t. It was made into reality.”

She studied the face behind his mask, baffled by how content he seemed, how un-Jonas-like. “What is that cloudy light down there?”

“Happiness.”

“I can see happiness?” she asked without hiding her skepticism.

“Yes,” he said matter-of-factly. “Since there’s nothing to contain it out here in the open. What would have been the point of choosing this”—he motioned to the world around them—“if there wasn’t some enjoyment?”

As she watched the spirits flickering across the fields like fireflies, innocently free like children at play, Alex felt her throat tighten. A decade ago these spirits were probably still curled in the laps of their mothers, listening to bedtime stories and dreaming about what they’d grow up to be. She’d wager none of them would have said ghosts.

“It just seems so silly. Parties and … ” She fidgeted with her mask and kicked a stray ball back down the hill before muttering, “games.”

“Everything we do is a game. Life is a game. Death is a game.” He moved to allow several kids with skulls for masks to flip past them. Above, spirits released brightly lit balloons from the rooftops. The balloons fell like stars to the earth, only to be thrown back into the sky where they belonged. “This is just a different sort of play, although I guess I understand why Ellington thought it would scare you. Did it?” His eyes went to his arm, where Alex had been holding on to him, like she’d left traces there. He seemed to smile at it for a moment.

“It was just a little crazy. Unexpected.”

“Was it worth it?”

“For what?”

His voice dropped. “To get to them?” Jonas moved aside so she could see a group of spirits leaving the fields. Alex scanned the faces of the crowd, but they were each hidden behind a disguise. To whom was he referring?

“Where have you been?” one of them shouted to Jonas.

The familiarity of the voice warmed Alex’s heart. He was masked, sure, but he was unmistakably Kaleb Lasalle, and the curly-haired blonde next to him had to be Gabe. The square jawlines, the defined cheekbones, the roguish mouths that didn’t look right if they weren’t laughing. Their masks were simple and black, like two boys playing Zorro, like the games from her childhood, and Alex was suddenly filled with an overwhelming surge of nostalgia.

Chase’s brothers were here. Happy. In typical Lasalle fashion, they had defied death’s attempt to break their spirits and used their own tragedy to their advantage.

8

In life, the Lasalles did their best to protect her, but Alex’s illness was always a fascination for other children, another Parrish legend to explore. When she was young, Alex hardly minded the attention. It filled the void at home. To other little girls, she was a walking, talking porcelain doll with her large eyes, heart-shaped mouth, and snowy skin. But the years went by, and the attention developed as much as she did, which is to say, not at all. She was always classified as the sick girl. Perhaps this explained why she allied with Liv Frank, who had also been born into a predetermined stigma. During adolescence, images are as malleable as cement.

By the time she reached middle school, the constant company of the Lasalles was often torturous. They could effortlessly turn heads in their direction. Guys wanted to be them and girls wanted to be with them. They allowed their power to roll off their backs, while Alex was sentenced to the sidelines, where she felt stifled by it. The Lasalles became more mesmerizing the older they grew. On the contrary, as Alex aged, she only seemed smaller and weaker in comparison.

Parrish Day was the most important event of the year in their little town. While the Fourth of July meant family fun, fireworks, and corn on the cob, the eleventh of July was a day of guilty pleasures. It was a hazy, scorching mess of barbecue, beer bottles, beaches, and boat races. Every adult in the community drank too much, smoked too much, and laughed too hard to notice what the kids were doing, particularly at night during the beach bonfires.

On her thirteenth birthday, Alex sat sifting her toes through the cool sand, watching the tide stealing the grains like it was the world’s hourglass. She was finally old enough to recognize that her differences were hindrances. And she was becoming jealous of other girls, and not in the petty ways she always had—this wasn’t about playing sports or riding water slides. The other girls would get to grow up, and they would have children and grandchildren. They would get to live in ways she couldn’t.

The Lasalles dominated the volleyball sand, and the shimmering flames of the bonfire lit the scene, accentuating the definition of their muscles. They stood like four Adonises while their opponents were mutts, panting pathetically opposite them.

“Come on, guys, make this a little difficult for us!” Jonas taunted them.

“Alex, what’s the score?” Kaleb called, fanning himself with the football jersey he’d draped around his neck. “And don’t lie just because you feel sorry for those guys.”

“We only need one more point to win.” Chase turned and winked at Alex, and she felt her stomach flutter.

Jonas continued his bantering. “Do you think you guys might be able to score at least one point? Or are you too distracted by the girls?” His gibe was followed by a tittering of high-pitched giggles from their female audience.

“Stop being so obnoxious,” Gabe ordered.

Kaleb threw the ball into the air, but he didn’t direct it over the net. Instead, he aimed it at Jonas’s head. It ricocheted off Jonas and spiraled right to the hands of Gabe, who bumped the ball to Chase. Alex watched him spike it as easily as dribbling a basketball.

Kaleb pumped his fist, and the girls next to Alex began to whoop and holler like a bunch of drunken cowgirls. She scooted away from them, embarrassed. A redhead leaned in close to her. She reeked of seaweed.

“Your boyfriend is adorable,” she said with a slight slur, holding her cup out towards Chase.

“Oh. No. He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Really? But I always see you with him.”

Another girl leaned forward. “They’ve been inseparable since kindergarten,” she said to her friend. Alex recognized Posey Freebelanger. She had always been rather annoying, but boys liked her because she was curvy and she had a pretty face. Looks were about all she had to offer, because her name was enough to make her a social outcast, and her IQ wasn’t much higher than the SPF on her sunscreen. She’d once invited Alex to a sleepover and convinced her parents to take them to a bounce zone. A bounce zone! Alex had sat on a bench for two hours watching the other kids jump and scream and laugh, and Posey’s mom had complained she’d wasted money paying for Alex.

The redhead stood up to get a better view of the game, sloshing her drink and staining the sand. She peered down her long nose at Alex and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “You are such a tiny little thing. You must be freezing.” Her comment could have been an attempt to be friendly, but it didn’t properly mask the scorn.

Alex recoiled from the girl’s grubby fingers. “I’m okay.”

“Seriously, do you ever eat?”

One of the girls sitting with Posey could barely keep her eyes open. Sticks and leaves stuck out from her bleached blonde hair. She lifted a shaky finger at Alex. “Wait, you’re that girl. Aren’t you the one who is like … dying?” Posey tried to shush her friend, but Alex had heard the question loud and clear. She eyed the girl’s disheveled hair and wished she was callous enough to say, But somehow I’m not the one who looks like she just crawled out of a grave.

Redhead pointed to Jonas. “I used to sit next to him in health class,” she said in a scornful voice. “He’s cute, but he’s an ass.”

Usually Alex reprimanded Jonas for his behavior, but this girl seemed like she deserved it.

“Chase is better looking anyway. How do you stand having such a gorgeous best friend?”

Alex wasn’t quite sure if the question was rhetorical.

Bleach Blonde was swaying in rhythm with the cattails by the water’s edge. “So what will he do when you die?”

Posey jumped in. “Sorry, Alex. She’s drunk.”

Alex hated girls like this, ones who used excuses like drinking to defend their candidness when really they were just mean.

“I’m just saying maybe you shouldn’t keep him all to yourself,” Bleach Blonde retorted.

Chase appeared beside them. “What are you talking about?”

Posey began to speak, but Alex cut her off, finding courage in Chase’s presence. “Oh, these girls were wondering what you’ll do with yourself after I drop dead.”

Anger plagued his gorgeous face. “How did that topic come up?”

Redhead shrugged a shoulder. “My friend has had a little too much to drink.” She helped Bleach Blonde to her feet, but their legs tangled, and they both tumbled back into the sand.

Chase looked disgusted. “Maybe you should get them home.”

Redhead and Posey were already pulling Bleach Blonde away into the shadows. “I’m starving,” Alex heard Bleach Blonde wail, but they didn’t even make it off the beach before she fell to all fours and began to vomit.

“That’s really gross,” Chase said.

Alex was quiet.

“Hey.” He lowered himself to his knees in front of her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He followed her gaze to the trio of girls who were still on the outskirts of the beach. “Forget them.”

Alex nodded halfheartedly. Chase snatched her cup from her hands and tossed it into the sand, then squeezed her fingers. “Look at me.” She surrendered, and the corner of his beautiful mouth lifted slightly. “You are perfect.”

There was silence for several moments before Chase whispered, “Are you okay?”

His brothers came bounding over.

“What’s wrong?” Kaleb demanded, seeing Chase kneeling in front of Alex. Jonas started towards the girls in the distance, but Gabe grabbed his shirt. They huddled around Alex, and she realized that yes, she was okay. Despite her limitations, she wouldn’t trade her small slice of life for anyone else’s. She couldn’t be resentful of who she was, because unlike any other girl in the world, she had Chase, and she had the Lasalles. And they were worth it.

* * *

“Well, Jonas, where have you been?” Kaleb demanded, tossing a ball from hand to hand.

“Jonas shrugged in response. “I had to play tour guide. You know.”

Kaleb caught the ball and stepped forward. “No, we don’t know. Since when are you helpful?”

Alex stood in silence, her eagerness creeping higher than the redwoods. They weren’t Chase, no, but they were pretty close. Her mask hindered her peripheral vision, but Jonas must have gestured to her because Kaleb suddenly dropped the ball, and Gabe’s mouth fell to the pavement with it. “Is that who I think it is?”

“Have you ever met anyone else that small?” Jonas said scornfully.

Kaleb let out a low whoop, ripping the mask from his face. He lifted her off her feet and swung her around like a child. “You aren’t fragile anymore!”

Gabe shook his head in disbelief. “Thank goodness,” he said, looking at his brothers meaningfully before wrapping his arms around Alex. He gently lifted the mask from her face with hope in his eyes. He seemed afraid that it wouldn’t really be her underneath.

“See, I always told you there was a perk to being the sick girl,” Kaleb laughed.

“Do you think that’s why … ?” Gabe’s uneasiness transferred to Kaleb, who gave one sharp nod of his head.

“Why what?” Alex pressed him.

“Nothing,” Kaleb said hastily, flashing his charming smile. “What a day to arrive!” He took Alex’s mask from Gabe and refastened it to her head.

And suddenly they were hugging her again, passing her back and forth like a lucky charm. And she didn’t mind whatsoever. Seeing the Lasalles was like finding the missing pieces of her heart. But it would be Chase, she knew, who would be the adhesive to hold it together. Before she could ask about him, Kaleb spun around with a wicked gleam in his eye.

“Wow, Jonas, that was really nice of you to escort Alex through the festival.”

Jonas studied the crowd indifferently. “I figured Alex always followed us around like a stray dog anyway. I gave her a break since it’s her first day after dying.” His posture, his tone, his expression—it was all back to the Jonas of old. Bored. Uncaring. Acerbic.

“We were actually coming up to find you because we needed you in order to win a little wager.”

“With who?”

Gabe groaned. “Do you have to ask?”

“Legacy kids?” Jonas flattened his mouth like a toad, disdainfully.

“The Darwins, of course. Who else?”

Alex raised her brows, but Jonas shook his head as if to say, You don’t want to know.

“What did you wager?” he asked, snatching a new mask. “Nothing of mine, I hope.”

Kaleb responded with a humorless laugh, leading Alex to believe that probably, yes, he’d risked something that belonged to his brother. “Doesn’t matter. Who cares about the Darwins now? This is a party! And now we really have something to celebrate!” Kaleb swung an arm around Alex and pulled her towards the commotion on Lazuli Street. His features were so similar to Chase’s that Alex could barely stand to look at him.

He led the group, with Gabe and Jonas flanking his sides, just as they’d done as children entering the playground. Alex and Chase had always hung back together, and she was painfully aware of his absence now. She wanted to know why they were avoiding the topic. “Kaleb?”

But her voice dissolved in the noisy ruckus. Kaleb took the hands of random girls, swinging them around, dipping them low, and kissing them on the cheeks. He traded masks and accepted a cup from a vendor, thrusting it at Alex.

“What is it?” she asked, scrunching her nose. Yet another question no one could hear. It drowned in the sea of faceless color.

Gabe mimicked drinking and urged her with a thumbs-up. Alex swirled the glass and a mist rose, carrying with it the scent of popsicles, chlorine, and sun-kissed skin. She sipped the weightless vapor, and it swaddled her in comfort. It was liquid summer.

Kaleb and Gabe joined in the merriment, singing loudly and climbing the podiums to high-five the party-goers. They lifted Alex on their shoulders and made the disarray fun because they took charge of the chaos and made it their own. Jonas lagged, grumbling about how embarrassing his brothers were. It didn’t take long for him to disappear, a typical move once the shadows of his brothers were cast over him, so Alex was surprised when Gabe felt bothered enough to stop the group.

While they waited for Gabe to locate Jonas, Alex tried to ask about Chase again. But Kaleb, who found it hard to remain sedentary for any long period of time, darted away and climbed a balcony to join a band singing “Only the Good Die Young.”

Alex took a seat on a table of gold masks and watched the show.

Two women approached. “They must be newburies,” one of them remarked with a grandmotherly tone of reprimand.

“Music isn’t what it used to be,” the other woman agreed, examining the masks. “And in my day, costumes were much more elaborate. Now it’s all just plastic and feathers.”

“Remember the year everyone impersonated the French royals?”

The other woman chuckled. “Josepha and Johanna didn’t like that too much, did they?”

“Not when the faux revolution began.”

Even behind their masks, misleadingly, these ladies didn’t seem to look a day over twenty, and yet they sounded like finicky old women.

“Why did you want to come over here with the newburies?” the first woman asked.

“I was curious.”

“Why?”

“Change is in the air. Don’t you feel it?”

“Not really.”

“Then you haven’t been paying much attention. The trees have been talking, warning us that change is coming. And Maori told me that all of his sunflowers have been following the sun east to west. It’s a sign to keep an eye on our youth.”

“You spend too much time gossiping.”

“It isn’t just gossip! What about the incidents?”

“Paranoia,” the woman scoffed. “We’ve been around long enough. We’ve seen it and heard it all before.”

“I tell you, something foul is brewing around here, and I’m not talking about the stench wafting from Duvall’s chimney.”

The other spirit sighed loudly in disapproval.

“I just want to catch a peek at some of the new ones. I hear there are siblings.”

“They’re masked, or haven’t you noticed the theme of the party?”

“You of all people know that it takes more than a mask to hide a face.”

“Hey!”

Alex jumped when Gabe appeared beside her. She glanced at the other side of the table, but the two women disappeared behind a curtain. “Did you find Jonas?”

“Yeah. In there.” Gabe twirled a scepter in his hand before using it to point to the store beneath the balcony, where Kaleb held court. Jonas appeared in the crowd and stood with his hands on his hips, staring coldly at the line of noisy celebrants. “Always a scowl on his face,” Gabe said.

“Actually, I thought he seemed different this afternoon.”

“Did he? Hmm. Maybe that’s the mask he was wearing today. Who really knows what’s going on underneath that façade?”

“He seems pretty happy to me.”

“Ha! Have you ever known Jonas to be happy?”

It was a legitimate argument. And now, no, Jonas didn’t seem happy at all. “You’re worried about him,” she noted.

“I always worry about him. He’s so quick tempered. So offended by us. I’m trying to fix that.”

What else was new? Jonas had always been the resentful one. He always tried to make the most noise while complaining that he was never heard. Maybe she’d imagined his cheerfulness earlier.

Kaleb, on the other hand, had confiscated a set of drum sticks and was putting on a show, grinning widely in Alex’s direction. The girls directly in front of Alex practically fell over themselves. They huddled together, whispering excitedly, until one of them peeked back over her shoulder. The girl must have said something to her friends, because one by one, they each turned to sneak a peek at Alex and Gabe.

“Some things don’t change,” Alex said. The Lasalles seemed to be just as regal here as they had been in Parrish. But one member of the royal court was still missing. She peeked sideways at Gabe. “Or maybe they do. What happened to Chase?”

“I know you’re probably anxious to know about him, but I don’t know much about the situation.” Gabe rubbed his forehead. “Kaleb was with Chase this morning, but he’s kept quiet about it all day. I don’t think he understood Chase’s actions until a few minutes ago. Our baby brother hasn’t been himself since we arrived here. He’s wanted nothing to do with us or this place. He’s done everything he can to get himself kicked out. Sweet charming little Chase, the juvenile delinquent. After the last time, I thought we’d gotten through to him. He promised he wouldn’t do it again.”

“Do what again?”

“Break the rules. Newburies can’t leave the campus unsupervised.”

“Why not?”

“This isn’t summer camp, Alex.”

“It isn’t prison, either.”

Gabe shook his head. “Newburies don’t know anything about the world out there anymore. It would be like sending a nine-year-old loose in the world. How long do you think he would last?”

“Okay. Then why would Chase want to leave?” she asked.

“Until today,” Gabe said with a sigh, “the only thing Chase has wanted since he died was not here.”

9

When Chase appeared to Liv Frank after his death, she felt relieved. She’d hoped he would show up on her doorstep sooner rather than later. But she’d been told that the young spirits, the ones who still stunk of fresh earth, rarely got out much. All spirits wanted something or they wouldn’t have stuck around. Many of the ones she spoke with didn’t have a clue what they were looking for, but Chase would surely be searching for Alex. She took one look at his heartbroken face, and she knew he’d already found what was left of her.

As a child, Liv Frank thought the people she saw were invisible friends. It was entertaining at first. She thought she was special, because the other kids with imaginary friends only had one, and she had dozens! The invisible people were nice to her. They didn’t call her fat like the kids at school. Sometimes they would even give her answers to a test or help her win a board game. But eventually, their presence became a nuisance. They never left her alone. They would show up in her bedroom or in the bathroom. They would scare her. Liv began to ignore the faces that others couldn’t see, the ones that belonged to the dead. After a while, the faces turned into mere shadows. They became irrelevant, and for the most part she led a normal life.

Until Chase died. After the accident, Liv had visited Alex frequently, but each time, she felt more and more helpless. So Liv wouldn’t force her to do anything. If Alex was staring at the wall, she’d sit and stare with her. Sometimes she’d tell her stories, or sing, or stuff food in her chubby cheeks to try to make Alex laugh. Her friend barely responded. Sometimes Alex would be in a panic. She’d cover her ears or pull at her hair or scream. Those were the moments when Liv was afraid of what Alex might do to herself. That frightened part of her must have been willing to let Chase in. He showed up one night, sitting, waiting, and saying he was breaking the rules but didn’t care. He fed Liv the words that Alex needed to hear, because he could no longer say them to her himself.

Liv hadn’t seen Chase since Alex was taken away. Was he angry at her because she’d failed? Alex had been committed to that loony psychological rehab center. A lot of good that did, because she died a short time later. And now Liv was alone with her thoughts, her guilt, and her ghosts. Literally.

Somehow, when she allowed Chase into her mind, the others found their way back in, too. This time, she didn’t fight it, because quite frankly, she was lonely. But a part of her also hoped one day Alex would wander in with the others.

She might finally know that her friends were okay. That Alex and Chase had found each other. Maybe sometimes happy endings had to wait for a different lifetime.

* * *

Alex hurried to keep up with the Lasalles, who rushed through the crowds of spirits. Laughing, Kaleb led the group through a small alleyway between two buildings.

“Will we be late?” Gabe asked, flinging his mask like a Frisbee into the crowd.

“Nah,” Kaleb said. He turned to Alex. “Newburies have curfew. One of many restrictions around here. They like to keep tabs on us.”

Alex frowned. First confinement and now curfew. “Why would they need to do that?”

“Ask Chase,” Jonas said loudly. His comment immediately sobered the group.

The ferocity of Kaleb’s glare sliced through the night air. “I guess we won’t have to worry about that anymore, huh?”

“Speaking of,” Alex interjected, “do you know exactly where he is now?”

“No,” Kaleb said, “but I’m sure she does.”

A young woman with somber eyes and Shirley Temple curls was stationed in the entryway of Brigitta, talking to a distraught Ellington.

“What are you doing out here, Romey?” Gabe asked.

Her eyebrows lifted all the way up to her thick bangs. “You were almost late.”

“Almost.” Kaleb grinned, opening his arms toward the other kids still loitering around the courtyard. “It’s a holiday. There are plenty of newburies still out and about.”

“Other newburies typically follow the rules.”

“A little trouble is good for the soul.” Kaleb leaned closer to her. “I bet you were the life of the party in your day. Did you get a chance to enjoy the masque at all?” His face creased in concern. “I’ll volunteer to take over your duties for a few hours.”

Kaleb’s charm was like an anvil on a house of cards, and Alex saw Ellington roll his eyes. He stepped between Alex and the Lasalles and placed a hand on the woman’s back. “Alex, this is Caren Throme, the Brigitta director.”

“Call me Romey.” The woman squinted at Alex in the darkness. “I’m so very sorry about earlier. I—” Romey caught a glimpse of Alex’s face and gasped loudly enough to breathe shock into the air. Pings of blue light danced around her face like sparks.

“Uncanny, isn’t it?” Ellington asked her. “The resemblance?”

Romey continued to gawk. Resemblance? Had this woman known her mother too? Alex felt a heat of childish rage rising inside her. Why did everyone else in the world get to know Erin Ash besides her? It was hardly fair.

Ellington ducked when a large piece of debris whizzed past them. Several spirits were using the demolished bench to play catch or dodge ball.

“It’s lovely to finally meet you,” the woman managed to choke out. She extended her hand towards Alex. “Again, I apologize. This has been the most unusual of days, I must say. Though I’m very glad you’ve found familiar faces.”

Alex wondered how this stranger would know her familiarity with the boys, but she noticed Ellington ducking his head guiltily. “I always give her as much background as I can before she receives a newly buried spirit.”

Alex cringed as a slab of granite slammed into a boy beside them. It made a loud whooshing sound like the air being punched from a pillow. It hammered the boy into the ground with a force that would have easily knocked out anyone who was actually living. But the boy jumped back to his feet, and Kaleb chuckled appreciatively. “Good one,” he said.

“Why don’t those kids have curfew?” Alex whispered to Gabe.

“They do. They’ve been dead longer though, so their curfew isn’t so early.”

“What happened here?” Romey asked, wagging a finger at the mess in the courtyard.

Jonas stuck a thumb in Alex’s direction. “She did it.”

“She did?”

Ellington lifted his hand to his mouth and began to bite his nails again.

“Wait,” Kaleb laughed. “That was Alex?” He turned to her with newfound admiration.

“What else can she do?” Romey whispered to Ellington, who responded with a shrug of his shoulders. “You left her here alone?”

“I was searching for you inside the hall. I was gone for maybe three minutes. I figured that once she was finally safe on campus, no one would know who she was. I didn’t think she’d be in any danger.”

They were speaking in low voices, which seemed silly to Alex because she and the Lasalles could hear every single word.

“Know who she was?” Jonas asked loudly. “What do you mean? It’s just Alex.”

Ellington ignored him, continuing the conversation with his voice still hushed. “I thought the campus would conceal her.”

“Concealment didn’t exactly work for her mother either, did it?” Romey murmured.

“Her mother was foolhardy.”

Romey bit her trembling lip and sniffed.

“What does this have to do with my mom?” Alex interjected.

“Nothing,” Ellington and Romey responded in unison.

Pieces of the bench were still flying around like a meteor shower. Gabe intercepted a large slab of stone. “Spirits have been talking about this all night. I can’t believe it was you, Al.”

“Therein lies the problem,” Ellington muttered, but the Lasalles weren’t listening. They were too busy trying to find something else to throw at her.

Kaleb tried to wrestle the piece of stone from Gabe. “We might have to experiment with this, Al.”

Gabe refused to give up the stone but instead tossed it at Alex. She halfheartedly swatted it to the ground with her hand, and he pouted. “Boo.”

“I can’t believe someone threw a whole bench at you. That’s brutal.” Kaleb flicked his chin in Jonas’s direction. “Was he standing next to you or something?”

Jonas placed his hands on his hips. “You act like I’m the bad seed.”

“Speaking of which”—Gabe redirected his attention to Romey—“do you have anything on Chase?”

Alex still didn’t understand how one word could have such an effect on her. As much as his name had pained her after his death, the reverie of possibility was now equally as powerful.

“And I’m not allowed to discuss anything about the events that occurred this morning, I’m afraid. Or the proceedings thereafter.”

“But he is still here,” Alex said. It was more of a statement than a question. His voice that she’d heard earlier—it wasn’t far. Her intuition felt even more accelerated than her new eyesight.

“I think Alex might make your life a little easier, Romey,” Gabe said quietly.

“So I’ve heard. Unfortunately, I’ve done a very poor job of making her feel at home today, which is why I opted to wait here so she could actually gain entrance to Brigitta Hall.” Romey hadn’t taken her eyes away from Alex. She gazed at her fondly, though a bit sadly. “You should be able to get in from now on. We’ll talk more tomorrow, yes? Good. Boys, can you show her to the seventh floor?”

“Seventh, huh? Interesting,” Kaleb remarked, and Alex wondered why.

Before she could ask, Ellington placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “A word of caution. If I were you, I wouldn’t disclose any information about your mother.”

“I second that,” Romey added. “Oh—the Bonds weren’t with you guys, were they?”

Jonas snorted. “Of course not.”

“Did you see them tonight?” she asked with concern.

“Let me think. No.”

“Oh, bother,” she mumbled.

“They didn’t check in?” Ellington asked.

“They may have just wandered off again.” Romey twirled a finger around one of her tight ringlets in thought. “Or they may be tied to a tree somewhere. I’d better go find out.”

“I’ll go with you,” Ellington offered, following her into the darkness.

“Who are the Bonds?” Alex asked quietly. “And why would they be tied to a tree?”

Kaleb made a face. “Don’t worry about them.”

The doors to the Hall swung open, and Alex stepped inside. A creak escaped from the hinges, apologizing to her for being so unwelcoming earlier. Entrapped within the dark marble flooring, a blue fire waltzed and twirled beneath her feet. She lifted her gaze to avoid stumbling from its dizzying effect. Square columns lined the walls, stretching all the way up to the glass ceiling, with tiers of stone balconies twisting around each floor. The bottom level housed long tables and vacant chairs.

“I didn’t expect it to look so … ”

“Elegant?” Gabe laughed. “I thought the same thing. The outside looks kind of like Hannibal Lector’s prison cell, doesn’t it? And then you walk in and find this palace.”

At the end of the fire walkway stood a peculiar fountain. A bridge crossed its spout, giving it the appearance that a sword had sliced it down the middle. Oddly, the fountain held no water.

“It’s quiet in here,” Gabe noted with a frown.

When they reached a desk, a girl suddenly appeared, rigidly perched like one of the gargoyles outside. Everything about her seemed to be pointy; her sharp nose, her narrow chin, and even her hair rested on her shoulders in perfectly perpendicular edges.

“Oh great,” Jonas grumbled. “What’s Tess doing here?”

Kaleb cupped his hand over his mouth so his words wouldn’t travel far. “That explains the empty room.”

“You guys are late.” Tess’s mouth twitched in an attempt to smile, but the expression never seemed to reach the other features of her face. She was like a stone.

“That’s because we were talking to Romey outside,” Kaleb said. “So you don’t have to worry about blabbing to her, Tess.”

“Romey’s outside? Did she say how long I have to stay here?”

“You weren’t exactly on our minds,” Jonas said. “Besides does it matter? You’ve already missed all the fun tonight.”

Alex didn’t think this girl looked like the type who knew how to have fun.

“There was plenty of commotion to keep me entertained. Did you guys hear about the fountain?”

“What about it?” Gabe asked.

“The contamination? I’m sure you’ve noticed there’s nothing in the fountain. But, oh, I guess your family has been rather preoccupied today.”

“Contaminated, huh? Did you have something to do with it?” Jonas asked.

A corner of her lips jolted upward. “Funny you say that. Weren’t you questioning Romey about the fountain last week?”

Jonas looked uninterested. “What are you getting at, Tess?”

“I don’t know. I just think it’s a little sketchy, especially since you were asking about how it filters our air. My brothers say—”

Jonas cut her off. “I really don’t care.”

“At least my brothers follow the rules.”

“Follow the rules?” Kaleb exclaimed with a loud laugh. “Since when is throwing people in the fountain following rules? Maybe that’s how it got contaminated!”

Jonas was scowling. “And for your information, I asked about the fountain because I had to clean it during detention last week. So maybe you should check your facts before opening your ugly mouth.”

Tess’s rock hard expression didn’t waver. If anything, she seemed pleased. “Maybe you could just inform me of some facts then. What happened to Chase this morning?”

Alex didn’t like the accusatory way she said his name. She hadn’t thought so many people would know about his predicament.

“Why do you care?” Kaleb asked.

Tess shrugged innocently. “Jonas was just saying I should get my facts straight. Who better to ask than his own brother? Did it have something to do with the fountain?”

“Actually, no, it didn’t.”

“Then why is he in trouble?”

“No offense, but that’s really none of your business,” Kaleb said calmly.

Tess let out a small hmph of laughter, and even that was sharp like a spur. “So Alex, do you have any ancestors here?”

Ellington’s advice was fresh in her mind. “I don’t think so,” she said quietly.

“Why are you such a nosy—” Jonas began but Gabe shoved him to shut him up.

“Be nice.”

Tess smiled. She seemed to like that her spurs were getting under their skin. “You boys wouldn’t understand. You’re first-generation spirits,” she said, indicating this was a stigma. “What is Alex short for?”

“It’s short for shut the hell up,” Jonas interjected.

“That was so clever,” said Tess. “Honestly, Jonas, I cannot leave my seat, which wasn’t such a punishment until you arrived. But if I bother you so much, why are you still here?”

“Excellent point. We were just leaving. It’s been such a pleasure seeing you, Tess.” He spat the words as though the taste of them was wretched.

As the Lasalles pulled her through the vestibule, Alex peeked back over her shoulder at the icy girl. The aggression of the conversation didn’t seem to faze Tess.

“She was charming,” Alex said sarcastically.

Kaleb made a face. “Tess-the-Pest thinks she can say and do whatever she wants.”

Jonas seethed. “Did you hear the scorn in her voice when she called us first-generation spirits? I hate that girl.”

“Why did she ask about my family?”

“Get used to it. Everyone asks about it when newburies arrive.”

“She was trying to see if she should invite you into her little cult,” Gabe explained.

“Huh?”

“Legacy kids. They think they’re superior because they have ancestors here.”

“They do get special treatment.” Kaleb led the group to a narrow opening in the far corner of the room where a wavy ramp spiraled around a black pillar like an Archimedes’ screw.

Alex kept a hand on the pillar to support herself while she followed the boys around and around. At each floor, the darkness broke to reveal beautiful stone balconies with chairs and tables overlooking the vestibule. At the seventh floor, the boys stopped.

“It’s interesting that she’s on this level, right?” Jonas asked his brothers, giving Alex a little shove off the ramp. “I guess after what she did to the bench, it shouldn’t be such a surprise.”

Alex shifted unsteadily on her feet. “You know I hate it when people speak about me like I’m not here.”

“The seventh floor newburies tend to be advanced,” Kaleb said.

“Is that a coincidence?”

“There aren’t many coincidences around here. You blew up a bench earlier, so they must have gotten your room assignment right.”

“You might have family here,” Gabe said.

“I don’t think so.” Not anymore, at least.

“You’d be surprised. The longer the lineage, the stronger the spirit. The other day I read about the evolution of—”

“Come on!” Kaleb interrupted. “If you start spouting off, we’ll be standing here all night.” He offered Alex an encouraging nod. “Good luck!”

She hadn’t thought about what would happen next. She didn’t know where she was supposed to go or what she was supposed to do. Taking a tentative step forward, she poked her head around the corner to find a seemingly never-ending corridor. “What now?”

Jonas attempted to take a step out onto the landing, but Kaleb yanked him back. Jonas scowled. “Figure it out,” he snapped, turning back to the ramps. They disappeared, and his voice called down, “We did!”

For the first time since she died, she was alone. And she didn’t like it.

Taking a deep breath, she crept gingerly down the hallway, hoping a door might somehow have her name on it, and noticed something peculiar.

There were no doors.

The hallway contained window and picture frames of varying sizes but with mirrors behind them. Alex couldn’t see her own reflection, just the image of the decor behind her. Each frame displayed a caption underneath. The circular one closest to her read Sonja F. Rellingsworth, Founder of the Modern Periodic Table. The rectangular frame next to it was labeled Kender Federive, Service General. Alex continued down the hall, her eyes drifting over the captions, panes, and mirrors. She stopped beside the large crisscrossed window of Kinza Adel, Eidolon Ambassador from 1843–1986, and she heard the squeak of hinges.

A piece of the wall swung open like a door. Cautiously, Alex crossed the threshold, and the door clicked shut behind her.

There was no question this room was hers, because it was exactly what she would have wanted. It was a scene she’d seen once in a catalog advertising high-end home goods. The welcoming room smelled of fresh linens and lilacs. French doors grinned at her from the far corner, with tables on either side piled high with worn books, though not nearly as many as those that inhabited the built-in bookshelves. Everything was beautifully aged, yet somehow brand new.

A bizarre ending to a bizarre day, she thought, falling into a great brute of a bed. Like the thick tufts of clouds in a child’s drawing, the layers of blankets cradled her form. Fatigue overcame her as she rearranged herself horizontally, supporting her back against the wooden backboard. It was comforting to have something secure behind her. Security that the world was not going to disappear as she slept. Security that she would not disappear.

She slept like the dead.

10

Alex’s sleep was not dreamless, but it was like television snow. All power and no programming. That is, until the very last seconds between asleep and awake.

When her mind opened itself, she realized she was lying on her stiff rock of a mattress at the Eskers Psychological Rehabilitation Center, a candy-coated term for “mental institution.” Bullets of fierce raindrops disturbed the darkness, pelting the skylight, her only connection to the outside world. Her mind felt drug-distorted, similarly to when she’d been a resident there, and muffled whispers curled around her from every direction. Through her hazy eyes, she could see movement on the walls. It was like staring at the sun and then closing her eyes to see the shadow that had temporarily imprinted itself in her mind.

Alex. His voice was a vigilant whisper, afraid of startling her.

As if anything could frighten her anymore.

Alex, the wonderful voice echoed again. Are you all right?

Depends, Chase. She answered as though it was perfectly normal to have a conversation in her mind. Am I alive or not?

Alive. But you’re dreaming. There was a smile in his voice.

I’m not at the institution?

No. But that was the last place you heard me. Your mind must have taken you there for that reason.

Why can I hear you?

I don’t have an answer for that.

She tried to blink through her dizziness, but her brain felt like a spinning CD. She used to watch enviously when the Lasalles would hold out their arms in their backyard, twirling like tops until they fell to the ground in heaps of laughter. She was not allowed to do such things, but she imagined this was what it felt like.

I’ve been hearing you for months now, Chase said. Since I died.

Why didn’t you talk to me before?

I tried. I couldn’t get through.

Alex tried to wiggle her fingers, but they refused to cooperate. How could her ears be working so perfectly and her other senses be so useless?

I’ve missed you, Chase whispered.

Rain began to drizzle onto Alex’s bed. You have no idea.

Yes, I do. I just told you I was in your head. I could feel it. Every little bit of it. I’m honestly not sure which was worse, mine or yours.

Then why does it feel better now? Alex asked. You’re still not here.

I’m here, he assured her. Haven’t you learned yet that your eyes are misleading? Don’t be fooled because you can’t see me.

But—

I won’t be long. His voice quieted. Time to wake up now.

In the lingering darkness, Alex could hear the chirping of birds. It was the first indication that her grieving brain hadn’t simply invented the events of yesterday. Birds hadn’t ventured anywhere near to her window since the Lasalles died. Sorrow is contagious, after all.

Reluctantly, Alex opened one eye. She waited for the unfamiliar room to transform, for the image to warp like a painting in a kiln until the colors bled together, melting into her lonely old bedroom in Parrish or the bare walls at the Eskers. Minutes elapsed before she accepted the room as reality.

Wrapping a blanket snugly around her, Alex shuffled to the French doors to gaze out at the town adorned in a gray overcoat of fog, half expecting Chase to be there waiting below her balcony like some paranormal Romeo. The ever-present fog dimmed the pumpkin-orange lights of the street lamps parading down the lane, casting an appropriately spectral glow throughout her literal ghost town.

Even from this distance, her eyes were sharp enough to see the sign on the lamppost that read Lazuli Street. The road slept serenely, clean and quiet. There was no indication that the festival had occurred only hours before. From so high up, she could see past Lazuli, where the road forked. The left side curved toward the ball fields. The other veered right and disappeared under an awning of trees.

She guessed the disappearing road led to the two enormous towers in the distance. They melted into one another like a sculptor’s experiment, twisting near the top like a dip in a dance. Elevated tracery tattooed the stonework in green ringlets and wording. Alex lifted her hand toward the dancing building, and even from such a distance she could actually feel the roughness of the gnarled stone. She pulled back her hand in surprise, wondering how she could possibly know how something felt to the touch from miles away.

Because your fingers don’t exist anymore, her intuition answered for her. It’s all in your head.

It was jarring nonetheless, so she turned to survey the room, noticing details that she’d overlooked in her fatigue the previous night. A large misshapen clock hung above the wooden desk, its hands indicating the time without ever seeming to move, without ever ticking. It was affirmation that time could stand still in this world, yet somehow keep moving. She found a standard note of greeting and an itinerary so painfully similar to a high school schedule that when Alex picked it up, she grimaced. Today she would be subjected to psychology, intro and history. Tomorrow it would be science, sensory development, and physics. There was also a footnote about periodic general education. The absurdity of death workshops made her laugh aloud, and she could have sworn she saw the walls pulsate, inhaling her merriment.

“Good Lord,” Alex murmured. “I should have brought my backpack.”

She had hours before her first scheduled appointment. It was no use trying to go back to sleep. She was jittery with anticipation for what the day would bring. There was only one source of entertainment in the room: the wall that was corner to corner, ceiling to floor, stuffed with books.

One of these should put me back to sleep, she figured.

She extracted the thickest one: Eidolon Greats: A Compilation of Biographies. This seemed too structured, so she replaced it and ran her fingers along the spines of the others. Introduction to Eidolon and the Surrounding World. Maybe she could skim through it.

Poised in the middle of the room, an arm chair stood like a lone island, out of place. It looked like an antique, thick and heavy, the type of furniture that would usually merit the phrase “They don’t make ’em like this anymore.” Alex pushed it over to the French doors so she could occasionally glance up and feel at ease that her new world was still there. She curled her feet under her legs and propped the book on her lap.

Her brain devoured the text, a paragraph per second, retaining the information easily. She read until her head ached, the anchors of information weighing down her mind, and she was shocked to discover she’d read nearly four hundred pages. No wonder there were so many books in her room. It would probably only take her a week to read them. With a brain like this, school wouldn’t be so bad after all.

She gathered the appropriate books and turned, tripping over a backpack that she was positive had not been there before. It was identical to the one she’d owned in life. Coincidence? According to Kaleb, there were none.

She made her way to the door, which gracefully swung open of its own accord. It seemed to know her hands were full. She even would have thanked it if she hadn’t been distracted by a girl across the hall. Her back was to Alex, covered in a fuzzy lion’s mane of bushy grayish hair.

The girl spun around at that moment to find Alex there and dropped several of her books. “Oh!” she said in surprise.

Alex smiled in greeting, but the girl scooped up her books and scurried down the hall.

That was weird, Alex thought, trailing behind. When she reached the winding ramp, an arm was flung in front of her face, chopping the air like the swing of an ax and preventing her from following.

“You should wait a few more seconds,” Tess-the-Pest advised. “Just in case.”

“Just in case of what?”

Tess didn’t respond. Instead, she made a face like she’d swallowed a mouthful of lemon juice.

“Who is that?” Alex asked.

“Calla Bond. No doubt going to fetch her brother. I have no idea why that girl is on our floor.”

Bond. So she wasn’t tied to a tree outside.

Tess’s lips moved slightly while she eyed the ramp, counting the seconds since Calla had left. “Okay. We should be good now.”

Bewildered, Alex journeyed around the ramp and down to the vestibule. Tess walked a straight path, maintaining her statuesque posture, and spirits scampered out of the way when they saw her coming. The air around her screamed authority so loudly that Alex fought the desire to cover her ears.

They passed the fountain, and Alex noticed it now contained a misty, white substance. Tess held out her arm and wiggled her fingers along the surface of the captive cloud. “I’ll show you to your first class.”

It wasn’t an offer but a command. Alex had been planning to wait in the vestibule until one of the Lasalles appeared. She felt anxious without them, but something told her that disobeying Tess was a bad idea.

They stepped outside into another gray day. Drops of moisture speckled the cool air like water on a camera lens. The spirits occupying the tables littered around the square didn’t seem to mind. Tess passed a bench with two sharp-featured boys with beak-like noses and nodded in greeting. “My brothers,” she explained.

Alex scanned the courtyard, searching for the Lasalles, but the only spirit she recognized was Calla Bond, who tramped up the steps of the school, constantly watching her feet like the ground might crumble beneath her. She bent down to adjust the cuff of her jeans, and someone bumped her shoulder and knocked her sideways onto the ground.

Alex began to voice her disapproval when she nearly tumbled over a jagged slice of the bench that was overlooked during the cleanup.

“The bench was your doing, wasn’t it?” Tess asked, coming to a stop.

“Self defense.”

Tess glanced in her direction. “I heard you didn’t run. I’d be careful if I were you. Anyone who missed the first display is going to be chucking heavy objects at you to see a live encore.”

Alex hadn’t thought about that and felt a strike of paranoia, but everyone in the courtyard seemed preoccupied. The two girls at the table nearest to Alex and Tess were seated opposite one another. One was holding flashcards of random objects while the other girl had her eyes shut tightly. “Apple, hammer, moon,” she whispered. Alex’s mouth fell open.

“Meditation activity,” Tess explained curtly with a wave of her hand. “So how did you do it?”

“What?”

Tess took an exaggerated step over the stray mound of rock. She kicked it with her heel and began to walk again. “Control it.”

“I didn’t know what I was doing. I saw the bench coming, and then I just felt a pain in my head.”

“I’m sure you could do it again if you tried.”

“No, I couldn’t.”

“It isn’t typical, you know. Being able to do that on your first day. You must have family here.”

Alex remembered what Jonas had said about Tess and her self-righteous cult. “I have no idea.”

“Hmm.” Tess remained quiet until they reached the stone doors of the school. “What session do you have first?”

“Psychology.”

The doors lurched open, revealing an entrance hall. Hushed voices of students and loud chirping reflected off the walls, echoing all the way to the tip of the fan vault ceiling. Alex breathed in the smell of fresh paper and pencil lead.

The largest of three staircases greeted them front and center, leading to three levels of balconies, similar to the structure of Brigitta Hall. Two rippling staircases hugged the walls on either side and disappeared under dark archways.

Alex stood closest to the rightmost staircase, where she noticed artistic calligraphy carved into the stone that read “To the Grandiuse.”

Below the writing and at her feet jumped no less than five hundred tiny blue birds, chirping on the shiny black floor. How something so unusual was the last thing she noticed was evidence that she was beginning to expect the unexpected.

“What is this?” Tess lifted her leg and skipped over one of the creatures. The large elaborate tail feathers of the miniature peacocks fanned out behind them.

“These aren’t usually here?” Alex asked. One of the birds pecked at her ankle, but she felt nothing.

“No! Absolutely not!”

And then Alex heard Tess inhale sharply like she’d been stung. Calla Bond had appeared beside them. Tess attempted to move away, but the entryway was much too crowded.

“What’s going on?” Alex heard Calla ask a nearby student.

In response, the boy grabbed his ear and slunk away. Despite the obvious distraction, Alex noticed that every eye in the room had shifted from the flock of blue birds to focus on Calla, but no one waved, smiled, or spoke to her.

Alex couldn’t help but rubberneck at the strange girl too, until a shadow fell over them. A man entered the hall. His long coat billowed behind him, and he waved his burly arms. The force of his motions sent a furious gust through the entryway, impelling each student to the wall like bugs to flypaper, Alex included. She craned her neck to watch the man swish his arms, the conductor of a squawking orchestra. He created a swirling maelstrom to eat up each and every bird. His wild hair strewed erratically across his face, which trembled in concentration.

He filled the vortex and began to march out the door, but stopped abruptly to frown back at the newburies. Alex couldn’t tell if his focus was on her or Tess or Calla—perhaps all three—but the weight of his stare made Alex feel faint. And then he was gone, the chirping tornado following behind him.

Alex released herself from the wall. “Who,” she gasped, “was that?”

“Good question. I’ve never seen him before.” Tess rubbed her head and moved away from Calla. “I need to go find my brothers. Just take that center staircase to the second floor. Hang a left, and it’s the first door. Your doctor will be waiting.”

Alex was confused. “What doctor?”

“For psychology. You have a meeting, right? What were you expecting?” Tess huffed impatiently.

She’d been expecting a class, not therapy! She’d had enough of that when she was alive. Dread crept in and set up camp.

When Alex reached the room labeled psychology, she waited for the door to open, but it didn’t. She wondered if this room wanted her to make the decision for herself.

The circle of white chairs was empty, but she still felt she was disturbing something. The dimly lit space had a life of its own and the lingering aura of something that tasted like stale grief.

She tiptoed past a desk that supported stacks of tattered accordion folders stuffed with yellowed papers. Each folder had the name Crete Reynes stenciled elegantly at the bottom, and they were all labeled the same: Paradise. She lowered herself to a seat and set down her new belongings, feeling haunted. She couldn’t accept the atmosphere of the room. The emotions that lived here were not her own. Someone else had left them behind.

She pulled her feet up onto the chair and hugged her knees tightly, and then she felt him. She closed her eyes and breathed in the same air she’d sensed in Miss Petra’s classroom, like a storm had blown through with Chase saddled on the breeze. Was it his sorrow she could taste?

Sadness or not, she reveled in his presence, so minutes later when someone else overshadowed it, disappointment tapped her on the shoulder. “Hello there.”

The voice belonged to a skinny little boy with limbs that had never quite filled out and an outdated haircut. Her heart lifted when she recognized the adorable face of Ellington Reynes. The walls seemed to sigh and relax, perhaps happy to see him, too.

“Why are you here?”

Ellington beamed. “Some people call me Dr. Reynes, but I would prefer if you continued to call me Ellington.”

“You’re the shrink?”

“There are several of us, but yes, I am one of them. All part of my job description. Who better to analyze the newburies than someone who has already seen their past?”

She liked Ellington, but Alex had never had a positive experience with therapy. She nodded toward the circle of chairs. “You enjoy all this?”

“It’s in my genes,” he explained. “For the most part, I do enjoy it. I like helping the newburies adjust to this world, to find peace with it. I do believe that peace is my purpose.”

Alex rested her chin on her knees, condensing into a tighter ball of vulnerability. “Is this where you met my mother?”

Ellington pulled his mouth tight as though this would keep too many words from escaping. “Yes.”

Alex scooted closer and waited for him to share more.

“We had to spend a great deal of time together. Those who have gifted minds usually need a bit more help.”

“She was gifted?”

“No. But it was expected she would be.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to understand at this time. We have plenty to discuss, and your mother is a topic for later.”

Alex relented, but the ache didn’t subside. “How is it possible to still feel my heart?”

“Your mind makes it so. Old habits die hard. I still bite my nails.” He held out his little hand to show her and then patted her knee. “You can relax. No need to be afraid here. It’s a safe zone.”

“It doesn’t feel safe at all.”

“Don’t be afraid of the things that have been left here. You can leave things too. Things you don’t want or need anymore.”

Alex surmised he was not talking about tangible things. “I don’t think I belong here, Ellington.”

“Everyone says that at some point. I’ll confess I didn’t expect it from you.”

“No, I don’t mean here, like afterlife here. I don’t belong here in this room.” Alex said in exasperation. “I don’t need therapy. I hate therapy.”

“Everyone needs to talk about their death.”

“That’s just it. I’ve spent an entire lifetime talking about death. You should know that if you saw some ‘movie trailer’ of my life.”

He thumbed through his papers. “Alexandra Ash. Seventeen. Ehlers-Danlos. Resident of Parrish and then the Eskers Rehabilitation Center. When were you diagnosed?”

“With insanity?” Alex was only half kidding.

“No, with Ehlers-Danlos.”

“Birth.”

“Hereditary … obviously.” He made a note on his legal pad.

“We’ve already discussed this, Ellington.”

“I know, but it is protocol. My reports must be documented and submitted to the powers that be. Okay,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Where shall we start?”

Alex shrugged. “Life. Death. Whatever.”

“You forget they are one and the same. Remember that spirits are more alive than any of the bodied.”

“The bodied?”

“Those with a body. It sounds silly to say ‘humans’ because are we not humane as well? We are nowhere near dead, though we say it so frequently. After all, the life we have left can still be taken from us. The human body was glass, yes, but glass doesn’t slip through your fingers. Being a spirit is like trying to hold water in your hands. Don’t get me wrong. Fear is healthy for the mind. And your mind is the most powerful thing you have now.”

Alex’s doctors in life had caused her to build a wall, bricks of obstinacy, but Ellington’s soft, melodic tone was enough to chip away at that wall. She was aware of it, and it alarmed her. Alex counted the empty chairs. “Am I really early?” she asked. “Or is everyone else just really late?”

“Oh, the first few sessions are one-on-one.” Ellington continued on. “Let’s chat about your time at the institution. We haven’t explored that topic yet.”

Alex groaned. “I was committed. Rotting away in an asylum. What’s to discuss?”

“You were grieving, yes?”

Alex nodded. “And losing my mind in the process.”

Ellington loosened his bowtie. “Grief would not have existed if your mind had truly broken. You were plainly sane. Look at you now.”

Alex shook her head adamantly. “I wasn’t in my right mind when I was there.”

“Why?”

Chase. That was the plain and simple truth. But no doctor would ever accept that answer. A doctor couldn’t bring a dead boy back to life to solve Alex’s problems. Psychoanalyzing her didn’t work, so they drugged her instead.

“You know the answer, Ellington.”

“I know the one-word answer, but we’ve only begun to scrape the surface. Simply blaming Chase doesn’t help me to understand.”

Alex cringed. Blaming Chase.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“I don’t blame him. There was nothing either of us could do. We never seemed to have a choice in the matter.”

“What matter?”

“Us.”

“Let’s talk about that.”

“If I explain it, it will just sound cheesy.”

Ellington stretched out his short legs, crossing his ankles. “I get to talk about death all day. I could do with a little cheese.”

She made a face. She really despised talking about emotions.

“Go on,” Ellington urged.

“All right, it’s just that most people spend their whole lives waiting to meet a person who puts all others to shame, who makes nothing and no one else in the world matter.”

“Ah. I think I understand,” Ellington said.

“I was born with that person.”

“There was no life that preceded him.”

Alex nodded. She had no memory of how to function without him because she’d never had to. And that had ruined her.

“It wasn’t about choosing to continue on with my life. I just”—she frowned—“couldn’t. There was nothing left.”

“And how did that make you feel?”

“Infuriated.”

Upon saying this, her feelings of helplessness left her body and filled the air around her. The rest of the sentiments inhabiting the room joined in, consuming her. There was something comforting here. Solidarity. Understanding. Just because her sorrow was different from theirs didn’t mean she didn’t belong.

Ellington waited patiently. “May I ask what you did for the involuntary commitment?”

She merely needed to show him her left wrist. She had never gotten the chance to ask Liv Frank how she knew what Alex had planned to do that night, but any idiot could probably have foreseen it after the hell she’d been through. Alex had been sprawled on the tile floor, her fingers toying with a razor blade, waiting for the right moment to show death that she wasn’t playing its sick game anymore. She wasn’t going to wait around until it finally decided to stop tormenting her. Game over. On her call. She just had to wait for the courage to slice in the right place, to make the decision. She’d taken a few preliminary swipes at her arms like playing a bloody tic-tac-toe. She was punishing herself for her cowardice, but it wasn’t until she closed her eyes and pictured Chase’s face that the blade hit the mark. It was then that Liv had burst into the bathroom to save her.

Alex held out her arm to show Ellington what almost took away her chances of being here. She wondered why this one vertical scar on her wrist remained while the dozens of others hadn’t made the cut. No pun intended.

“Ah,” he sighed. “Only one side?”

Alex nodded. “My father came home early that day.”

Like a shark, he’d smelled the blood and entered into the bathroom to find Liv bandaging Alex’s mutilated arm. He’d sensed the opportunity to finally have an excuse to be rid of her. By that time, her body was finished anyway. She could blame the wear and tear of her disease and the lack of nutrition, but something told her that this was her proper destination no matter the path she took. Simply because the world had a tendency to pull her toward Chase.

“Why did you do it?”

“I was never whole,” she admitted. “But then again, I never had to be. I was half of a whole, and I lost him. And I’d never known anything different. After he was gone, I was gone. There was no beauty left in the world. It wasn’t hatred or anger. It was worse. It was nothing. I was nothing. I wasn’t meant to be there anymore. Not without him.”

“But he is here.”

Alex nodded.

“You are whole again. So perhaps the new question is, what do you yearn for now? You’ve been given an incredible gift. You’ve been given life. What will you use it for?”

Alex thought for a moment. “I guess I haven’t figured that out yet. Am I supposed to know the answer now?”

“Of course not,” Ellington said gently. “But it will be your job, yours and mine, to figure it out.” He tapped Alex’s head with his pen. “But I have a feeling the trajectory of your path is a road less traveled.”

11

In the ninth grade, Chase’s first English assignment was to create a poem following the template of Shakespeare’s sonnets. Well, he thought iambic pentameter was a pain the ass. He hated counting syllables and using the alphabet to find a way to rhyme his words. Shakespeare must have been on drugs to write entire plays in such gibberish, but Chase could at least appreciate the attention to detail. Their English teacher said the poem could be about anything, but she winked and added that usually they were about love. Honestly, it seemed to Chase that Shakespeare ridiculed love, but this teacher seemed like a bit of a sap, so he didn’t share his cynicism with the class. Besides, if he read into it too much, his teacher might bump him up to honors English, and he wanted to stay in the same classes with Alex.

“What’s wrong?” Alex said.

“Why do you think something is wrong?”

“Your face is doing that thing again.” She touched his clenched jaw.

His anxiety spiked, and he wiped a sweaty palm against his jeans and recited the first two stanzas of his sonnet in his head:

Oh may I fine’ly ask you to be mine?

It’s been so long I’ve waited to say it

I’ve thought these words to you time after time

I’m scared to think them ev’n as here I sit

May I hold you close and whisper your name?

Will my heart be truly safe in your hand?

Deep down I believe you do feel the same

But here I am, in complete fear I stand.

Was he seriously about to do this? He’d spent hours creating it, making sure it was perfect, ten syllables per line, four lines per stanza. Before he could talk himself out of it, he slipped his masterpiece into Alex’s copy of Romeo and Juliet. He’d signed it with his name, a heart, and a question mark. Dramatic? Sure, but if he was going to put the time into creating one of these absurd poems, he should use it to his advantage. This was going to be special. Alex deserved that. She deserved the best of everything.

“Well, this is me,” Alex said with a smile, stopping outside the English classroom. Chase didn’t have Ms. Holden’s class until tomorrow. It was the first time in their lives they didn’t have the same schedule.

“See ya in a bit,” he said, trying to ignore the crack in his voice.

This felt like the defining moment of his life. All their time together, his racing heartbeat, the butterflies in his stomach, the warmth he felt when she smiled at him—he was about to find out if she felt it, too. If she always had. It seemed like destiny, just like Shakespeare said. It seemed to be written in the stars somewhere that he and Alex were fated to be together. Hopefully their story was not meant to be a tragedy. But this was real life, not some old play written by a rhyming lunatic, so their ending had to be happy.

Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to be so clever. But Shakespeare didn’t title his sonnets, and so neither did Chase. Maybe if he had entitled it “Alex” there wouldn’t have been the confusion. Maybe then Alex would have received the note instead of the girl who picked it up by accident. So when he made his way frantically down the hallway after class, it was certainly not Alex who came sprinting down the hallway in his direction.

Clutched tightly in Becca Blackman’s fist was his poem, entitled “Sonnet 14” for the fourteen years he’d been in love with Alex. It was Becca who jumped into his arms and pressed her overly glossed lips against his while her friends giggled and clapped.

Where was Alex? What would she think of this? Oh, God.

Finally, he found Alex’s face in the crowd. Her expression wasn’t one of hurt or anger or jealousy. She smiled. Like she was proud of him or something. He couldn’t admit the truth. He wouldn’t, because the moment was ruined. It wouldn’t be perfect. It was a mess.

And so he snatched the note from Becca and shoved it in his pocket. And with it, he tucked away his feelings. He stuffed it deep in his pocket, somewhere down there with his pride.

* * *

Pride. Professor Van Hanlin worried it would be his demise.

He was not a teacher by choice. He’d spent the better part of a century highly ranked in the office of the Legem Patrol, a corps of spirits who dedicated their afterlives to maintaining order, justice, and peace. The Patrol was his life, his purpose, and because of one mishap, he’d been demoted to a measly law professor. Granted, it had been a rather costly mishap. That meant he was doomed to spend his time preaching to generations of arrogant teenagers who considered themselves to be above the law simply because their souls were strong enough to exist in the afterworld. What’s worse, the professors rotated the obligation to debrief the latest newburies in a workshop so cleverly named “Intro.” The most recent batch of dead kids had been assigned to him, and although it was safe to say he didn’t look forward to the workshop, the children were less horrid than some newburies he’d encountered in the past.

The only part of his job that he loved was his classroom. Secluded at the far end of the third floor, it was monstrous and impressive, and it made the mere four newburies in attendance seem that much smaller. Chocolate-brown stadium tiers stood proudly on the lovely navy carpet of the circular hall. The layers of seating overlooked the generous podium for the teacher. When he entered the room that morning, he didn’t even bother to greet the students. He set down his briefcase and promptly wrote floccinaucinihilipilification in large letters on the chalkboard. They’d know what to do.

He dusted off his hands, looked up at his newburies and nearly choked noticing a girl in the middle row. His first instinct was to laugh. Someone must have gone to great lengths to pull off such a joke. He swiveled back to the board for a moment. No, if this was a joke, it was a cruel one. Anguish took over. Maybe he’d imagined her sitting there. Maybe he was losing his mind. Was it possible for a ghost to see a ghost? When he faced the class again, there she was, frowning at the word with a face identical to that of the girl who had cost him his previous job.

It wasn’t until Madison Constance started explaining the directions to the girl that Van Hanlin accepted her as real. He’d been just as baffled when Erin Ash arrived nearly two decades ago. This new girl was the spitting image. Anything short of witchcraft would make her appearance impossible. He knew all too well how valuable she was. The entire city had been hysterical after Erin Ash’s arrival, but it was nothing compared to how they’d reacted to her disappearance. They must be keeping quiet about this girl, because he’d heard nothing about her. Or perhaps, considering the circumstances, they only decided to keep him in the dark.

“We have a new student,” he said, trying desperately to stop his hands from shaking. “I’m Professor Van Hanlin.”

He realized his tone wasn’t welcoming at all. It was suspicious. The imp of a girl tried to smile, but likely found it difficult to do so under his surveillance.

“Welcome … ?”

“Alex,” she replied. “Alex Ash.”

Another Ash.

“As your peers are aware, I am the law professor here on campus. In this introductory workshop, we will cover the basics. General questions and such, enough to get you accustomed to life here.” He circled the word on the chalkboard. “Do your best to brainstorm the given term.”

Alex Ash gaped at her classmates when she saw that they were scribbling notes on their papers. Certainly floccinaucinihilipilification was not a term she used in regular conversation. He watched her glance at the word again, and then her expression became one of surprise. “Oh,” she murmured. He imagined the sensation that rippled through her head was much like watching the pages of a flipbook. Such was always the case with him. The images appeared and disappeared so quickly it was like shuffling at warp speed through a card catalog.

“Write what you see,” he advised her. After minutes of drumming his fingers on his pedestal, he invited Alex to share what she’d written.

Mr. Jackson in seventh grade science discussing “‘pili.”

A tree.

Misspelling “purification” as ‘pilification.”

Sitting in church with the Lasalles.

Nihilistic themes in a song?

He was pleased. “I think you were rather successful with the activity. Your brain now has more potential than you could imagine, a fact justified by what you saw in your head when you merely glanced at this word. Your mind conjured up everything you’d ever experienced with the word or pieces of it.”

Or even, he thought to himself, future experiences.

“Can anyone wager a guess as to what the term means?”

Madison Constance raised her hand. Of course. A normal teacher would probably admire her vigilance, but Van Hanlin found her to be bothersome.

“I saw a science classroom just like Alex did,” Madison chirped, perched on the edge of her seat. “Is it something to do with science?”

“No,” Van Hanlin responded curtly. “Pili is plural for pilus, or cellular organelles. Wrong association.”

“What about history?” Joey Rellingsworth asked. “I saw my old history teacher.”

Van Hanlin smiled at Joey. Upon receiving his list of newburies to mentor, he’d been pleased to find the name Rellingsworth. Joey was multigenerational. He came from a long line of spiritual chemists.

“Often the word is used in political circumstances.”

“And nothingness,” chimed in another girl. He didn’t remember her name, and he didn’t care.

“Nihil in Latin means nothing,” he explained. Kind of like your significance, he wanted to add. This girl was a first-generation spirit.

“Why did I see the weather channel?” Joey asked.

“Flocci I’m guessing is the plural of floccus?” Madison added. She glanced at Van Hanlin for affirmation, but he decided not to give any. It didn’t discourage her. “I was in PSAT prep when I died, and we were learning all sorts of Latin. I don’t even remember learning the word, but for some reason my mind is telling me that a floccus is a small tuft of a cloud.”

“You may not have even realized your brain had filed away that information,” Van Hanlin said, slightly impressed with the brownnosing girl in spite of himself.

Alex appeared to be gobsmacked by the conversation. He wondered what was hiding in that mind of hers. Incontestably something powerful. Yes, he was lucky indeed to have this batch of newburies. He began to consider the possibilities greedily.

Madison lifted her finger to her chin in thought. “A bunch of words that mean small or insignificant. Is that the actual meaning of the word?”

“The meaning is to deny the value of something, so yes, it is the same to regard something as insignificant. Well done.” He took a coin from his shirt pocket, which he flicked over his right shoulder. It ricocheted off an overhead lamp and landed directly on the light switch, brightening the room.

“Now that your brains are warmed up, let us begin. This afternoon, we are going to delve into the topic of travel. If you try hard enough, you can use your mind to see that things travel past you constantly, the most obvious of which being sound. You need only look for it. We are going to focus specifically on transportation. Of course, you can float, walk, or run without tiring easily, but there are much more practical means.”

A hand shot up in the air, and he acknowledged it through gritted teeth. “Yes, Madison?”

“Can we still drive cars or ride on planes?”

“Yes, of course we can, but we do not usually choose to do so. It’s simply unnecessary because it’s so much easier to ride the waves.”

Madison, who was transcribing his words furiously, said, “Huh?”

“Radiofrequency waves,” Van Hanlin said briskly. “Or in layman’s terms, cell phones. How many of you had cell phones in life?”

He watched all five hands rise into the air. Times had certainly changed.

“Ever had a prank call? A hang up? Those were probably quick trips. We don’t need much time to travel, but the further the distance, the longer we need to keep the connection. Ever been called by a telemarketer? Half of them aren’t even selling anything. They are simply working for us.”

Van Hanlin wrote Gramble on the chalkboard. “The founding family of modern day travel. Al Gramble was a man who perfected the method of transportation through electrical wires. Before we gave the idea of cell phones to the bodied—oh, don’t look so shocked! Of course we contribute to the physical world’s technology when it suits us. Anyway, back in the day, we had to travel through landlines. It was quite frustrating because there were so many unnecessary stops to reach one’s destination. Al Gramble’s great-nephew, Will, invented wave travel. Has anyone seen the turn for Gramble Lane off of Lazuli Street?”

Each of their faces displayed identical expressions of bewilderment. He presumed no one had mentioned it to them yet. They wouldn’t see the road until their minds knew to look for it.

“The parapets on the top of the building on Gramble Lane are like cell phone towers. They give us the ability to ride the radiofrequency waves.”

“What are parapets?” the tall girl asked.

“Those things on top of buildings that look like giant swords at attention,” Joey said. “I heard that teachers sometimes take the newburies on a field trip. Can we go?”

Van Hanlin shook his head.

“Is it because of that kid who keeps leaving campus?” Madison groaned.

Alex Ash looked up so abruptly her neck made the sound of a whip cracking.

“Aren’t there emergency exits in the school?” Joey asked, swaying his body to peek out into the hallway.

Now that it was mentioned, his newburies would have the ability to find the secret stairway outside his classroom if they opened their minds to search for it. The parapets on the learning center led to the travel waves. How interesting that the children had not heard of Gramble Station or the road leading to it, but they knew of the emergency travel access in this building. Van Hanlin’s mind began to reel.

“I’m not at liberty to show you how to travel outside of the city. That would be illegal unless warranted.”

“Professor?” Madison interrupted.

He sighed heavily and waved a hand to indicate she should hurry up and ask another of her infernal questions.

“Is it still possible to travel through the electrical wires?”

“Of course.”

“Are we ever going to try it?”

Van Hanlin shook his head. “Please turn to chapter four: Traveling Overseas and Enduring the Discomforts of Water in the (Frequency) Waves.”

He watched to make sure Alex had the correct book and allowed his eyes to linger once more. He wondered how much surveillance they’d place on her, bearing in mind what had happened to her mother.

And more importantly, what had happened to those before her.

12

Kaleb and Gabe sat at the center of the Grandiuse, an unordinary hall impersonating the interior of a grand library. Two poker-faced girls guarded the door, but they each wrote so feverishly in their notebooks that they didn’t bother to address anyone who entered or exited. Millions of multicolored book bindings snugly clustered the walls, which zigzagged and waved magically to make room for all the information. Even the lamps curved over the tables insipidly like fields of drooping flowers.

Kaleb rested his cheek on his fist and picked at his customary football jersey while Gabe thumbed through a book. Upon Alex’s entrance with Jonas, they shifted their eyes to one another, mirroring an expression of suspicion.

“Where’ve you been, Jo?” Kaleb asked without removing his cheek from his hand.

Gabe stood up and tugged at Alex’s elbow, leading her to the opposite end of the table. She could sense Jonas’s annoyance thickening the air.

Jonas tossed his bag to the ground. “I found Alex wandering around like she was lost.”

“How helpful of you.”

Jonas muttered something inappropriate and unnecessary, but Gabe, who was always one step ahead of Jonas, coughed loudly during the comment so Kaleb wouldn’t hear.

Alex sat on the bench and took some time to ogle at the rippling walls. “What is this place?”

Gabe used his finger to hold his place in the book. “It’s just where professors brief newburies on upcoming events and campus concerns. You can come here to ask questions and get help with workshops, too.” He flipped his book upright and continued reading.

The chipped letters of the title read: Notorious Ghost Stories: Legends throughout the Ages.

Alex rested her elbows on the table. “Is Parrish mentioned in there?”

Gabe grinned. “Why else would I be reading it? The only downfall is that now I have that ridiculous song about the Cove Ghost stuck in my head.”

They had grown up in a town obsessed with its legends. The Cove Ghost was the most famous. Some poetic tourist had visited the town in the late 1800s and written lyrics about waiting on the beach for her to appear. The creepy song became a children’s jump rope rhyme. Alex had sung it frequently on the playground in grade school. The SyFy channel had even done a piece on the ghost. For weeks, their vans had popped up around town like wild mushrooms, unwanted nuisances.

Gabe had bookmarked one page, and he pointed to a word that made Alex’s stomach drop. The Jester. She tugged the book closer to get a better look, and Jonas leaned in.

The original Eskers Institution was home to many broken-minded souls, both dead and alive, but due to an arson attack in 1901, the building became condemned. The new Eskers Psychological Rehabilitation Center, constructed at the west end of the Esker woods, adopted softer methods for treatment. Many lingerers and wanderers still rely on the west-end Eskers to provide psychological assistance. While the physical world might consider The Jester to be a mere attraction, the spiritual world knows better. He frequently diverts the bodied from approaching the grounds by frightening them away before they get too close.

“So there really were ghosts in the woods?” Alex asked.

“Guess so.”

“What are lingerers and wanderers?”

“Just what you’d suspect them to be. Lingerers linger and hang out in their old towns, and wanderers wander. They move from town to town. Or so I’ve read.”

Van Hanlin called the Hall to order, and Gabe closed the book and hugged it close to him.

The various lecturers droned about the importance of punctuality, methods to alleviate headaches from retaining the overload of information, and improvements in executive function. Jonas seemed to find it as boring as Alex did because he spent the duration of the meeting trying to annoy her by staring and making faces. Gabe kicked him under the table, and Jonas glowered. “Whatever.”

* * *

Pleased her first day had gone so well, Alex gladly accepted when Jonas hurried away from his brothers and offered to chaperone a tour of the city before curfew.

They ventured down Lazuli Street to where it forked at the fields. Trees bowed over the ascending path with branches intertwining overhead and creating natural archways. The hill took them to what Jonas called the heart of the city, with intimidating buildings of concrete masonry and brass detail. A combination of Times Square and a Halloween town, the dark shadows of modern architecture obscured the ancient roads and knurled lampposts. The hustle and bustle of spirits skirting past them disturbed the fog, which haughtily puffed its way upward. It traveled over the chaos and past the lights of the city.

The dancing building she’d seen from her window stood guard over everything. Up close, the government Dual Tower, as Jonas termed it, twisted so high it seemed never-ending, attempting to pierce the sky itself. She hadn’t seen the rest of ‘Broderick Square’ until Jonas told her it was there. She gasped each time a building suddenly materialized from the fog. He assured her this was normal because she hadn’t known what to look for.

The road traveled toward the Dual Tower but separated twice, breaking into an endless knot and stopping several feet away from the tower. “What is the point of having a walkway that doesn’t even lead to the front door?”

“Maybe that is the point.” Jonas grinned, and with the removal of his scowl, it was difficult to believe that he was supposed to be the black sheep of his family.

Alex was momentarily stunned by how much a genuine smile transformed his face. “Is it exhausting to be bipolar?”

“What?”

“I’m just kidding.”

Spirits eyed her as they traveled to and fro, craning their heads to follow her movements. Was insecurity visible to them? Was inexperience? Even the window frames of the gigantic buildings arced high like presumptuous eyebrows. She yearned for refuge and immediately found a new street sign. She tugged at Jonas’s sleeve and tilted her head in the direction of Scalae Lane.

This quiet road was much better. The redwoods neighbored them to the left, facing older buildings that didn’t seem so nosy. Alex noticed several tunnels and spirals of both ascending and descending stone stairways that led to nothingness, or just places still invisible to her apprehensive eyes.

A chirping bird jumped into their path, rippling its indigo feathers. Jonas picked up a stray branch. “This morning was quite the debacle.”

“Were you in the entryway too? I didn’t see you there.”

“Those lure birds were in every hallway, Alex.”

“Oh. I think they’re pretty.”

“You would think that,” Jonas said. “I just can’t figure out how someone got all those birds to flock into the school.”

“What do you mean?” Alex remembered how easily that strange boulder of a man had scooped them up to escort them out.

“Watch this.”

Jonas advanced on the bird, lifting the branch in his hand, ready to swipe it across the road. Abruptly, the bird retreated with a high-pitched hiss. Its feathers spread, along with its talons, which were silver and sleek like six butcher knives.

Alex jumped back in alarm and covered her mouth with her hands. “That’s horrible!”

“You still think they’re pretty?”

Alex studied the bird with new eyes. Oversized teeth glistened under the deceptively beautiful black beak, bared and jagged like the peaks of an ugly little mountain range.

“They live in the rosebushes between the walls surrounding the city. It must have been nearly impossible for someone to get them into the building.”

“Why would they bother?”

“You got me. But whoever the prankster is, I’d like to shake his hand.”

They stopped in front of a tableau of the architects involved in the construction of the city. Alex easily recognized Van Hanlin in a combat uniform. Madame Paleo, her new history teacher, stood front and center, wearing a mantua with elbow-length bell sleeves, a petticoat, and an apron. On the outskirts of the group a man stood scowling, arms folded.

“You don’t know who that is, do you?”

Jonas squinted at the picture. “No. Why?”

“He was the one who rounded up the birds.”

“Really?” Jonas shrugged. “I’ve never seen him before. Maybe he’s some sort of groundskeeper.”

Not likely. The man had been too powerful, like he was built to withstand an earthquake. Alex doubted his time was spent pruning bushes.

“And what about Calla Bond? Do you know her?”

“Where did that come from?”

“She was next to me during the bird incident.”

“I know of her. The Bonds are one of the old families. The multigenerational ones. Heredity is a big deal around here.”

Alex traced her finger over the carvings on the tableau. “If it’s such a big deal, why were people treating Calla like … ” She didn’t quite know how to word it.

“They were avoiding her?”

“Afraid of her,” Alex corrected.

“They aren’t afraid of her. They’re afraid of the Darwins. Tess and her brothers hate the Bonds. And around here, whatever the Darwins say, goes.”

“Why would they pick on her?”

“The weak are always the prey, aren’t they? Calla makes herself an easy target.”

“Are they punished?”

“Who? The Darwins? No way. They’re multigenerational, too. They must have some sort of genetic disease, because Eidolon is crawling with them.”

Alex stood quiet in her thoughts. Here, the trees couldn’t block all the light from the sun, as it tucked itself in for the night, swaddled in the comfort of a fluorescent pink sky and periwinkle clouds. Serenity whirled like a lullaby around them.

“I love when the sky shows off.”

Jonas blinked upward. “I heard the sky only changes color because of pollution.”

Alex stared at the multihued heavens, mortified. So this beauty was toxic? “Thanks for ruining it for me.”

“That’s not what I meant to do,” he said. “But one thing you’ve never learned is that appearances can be deceiving.”

“Nice cliché,” she replied. Two could play at that game. “But you also shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. That’s something you never learned.”

He shook his head. “This is a mental world, one that can easily be manipulated. That sort of optimistic thinking will get you killed.” He paused. “Again.”

She crossed her arms and continued to look upward. Polluted or not, she chose to enjoy it. The luxury of choice was just as beautiful as the complexion of the sky at sunset.

13

It didn’t take long for Alex’s dreams to find her that night. Thankfully, they didn’t carry her to the Eskers, but to somewhere she’d never been before. She was trekking through a hot desert, miles and miles of it. Although she was alone, millions of footprints imprinted the sand, choppy like an ocean current. She saw no end in sight, but kept walking, unfazed.

“Now this is what I expected death to be like,” she said aloud.

She felt Chase’s presence, and it began to snow. You’ve been watching too many movies.

“How do you figure?”

Death isn’t so much different from life, is it?

“I guess we wouldn’t know, since we aren’t really dead, or so I hear.”

The scenery shifted. Her toes were still in the sand, but the grains turned cold. She was back at the beach on Parrish Day when the boys played volleyball for hours and she was subjected to the idiocy of the drunken girls. The scene unfolded like a movie. Finally, Chase came to her rescue before the redhead and Posey dragged the blonde from the beach.

Chase once again fell to his knees in front of her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Suddenly he looked much older than thirteen. His hair was a bit longer than it had been a moment ago, and all boyishness had vanished. Although his eyes maintained the same Caribbean blue, the face around them, if possible, had become even more breathtaking, stronger and sharper. “How is everything?” he asked her.

The people around them continued to act as they had that day years ago. The volleyball game commenced without Chase, and the other kids continued to talk and laugh around the bonfire.

“Where are you?” she asked with a slow smile.

“I’m paying penance.”

“For what?”

“No worries.” He shifted to sit beside her in the sand, resting his forearms on his knees. “It was worth it.”

“For me,” she said guiltily.

“And for me.”

Alex wanted to reach out and touch him, but fear stopped her. She worried her hand would go right through him. “Where were you going the night before I arrived here? Why did you get in trouble? Your brothers haven’t exactly been eager to talk to me about you. In fact, no one seems eager to talk to me about anything.”

The flames reflected in Chase’s eyes. “It’s frowned upon to even discuss rule-breaking. Who would’ve thought death would be so strict? What were you doing the night before you arrived here?”

“Dying, actually. Thanks for asking.”

His voice was soft. “And you actually have to ask where I was going?”

“You were coming to me. So it was my fault.”

“No. It was my choice.”

Alex turned her gaze to the water and watched the tide rise. “Are you really here, or are you just in my head?”

“It’s one and the same.”

“What about when I was alive?”

He pointed to the scar on her wrist. “Who do you think told Liv what you were planning to do to yourself?”

“And now? How do I know what’s a dream and what isn’t?”

“Why do they have to be separate?”

“Is this a dream right now?”

“The images are.”

The waves began to white-cap, spilling relief-scented energy onto the beach. Alex took a deep breath to savor it. “You’re real?”

Chase chuckled. “I hope so.”

“Why did you risk leaving the other night if you knew I was dying and you’d see me anyway?”

All humor left him. “No one deserves to die alone, least of all you. All I wanted to do was be there with you. I didn’t want you to be scared.”

“My mind was gone anyway. They saw to that at the Eskers. I barely remember it, honestly.”

“That doesn’t make it better. And I thought maybe if I was there, I could talk to you, since I couldn’t get through in your head. Your body shielded you. Although I could get in and I could hear you, it kept you from hearing me.”

“But I heard you sometimes. Whispers.”

“I could tell. It was only when your mind let down its defenses.” He lifted his hand and allowed grains of cold sand to run through his fingers. She took the opportunity to stare at him.

“How long are you going to be gone?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Why are they keeping you so long?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard by now we aren’t permitted to leave the city.”

“It’s like house arrest.”

“It’s a rule. I broke it. I’m paying the price.”

“So it’s punishment?”

“At first I wondered if they just thought I was the one responsible for the pranks around campus. Like maybe they thought I was masterminding some plot to encourage other newburies to break the rules.”

“But the pranks are still happening,” she pointed out.

“Exactly. Which works out well for me.”

Alex glanced up when a shadow blocked the flames. Kaleb twirled a beach chair above his head. “Who’s ready to catch a ghost?”

She quickly realized he wasn’t talking about her. The crowd had dwindled. The younger children had been sent to bed, and most of the adults had succumbed to their impending hangovers and headed home.

She turned to Chase, disappointed to find him young again. Jonas appeared, sandwiching a marshmallow between two graham crackers. “No one has ever seen the Parrish Cove Ghost. You actually think she’ll make an exception for you?”

“Most girls do.” Kaleb situated the beach chair with his back to the group. He shouted against the noise of the waves. “It’s Parrish Day. No doubt she’ll be out to play.”

It was a lost cause. Locals and tourists alike were always setting up camp on the beach because they wanted to witness the infamous Parrish Cove Ghost. But even if the ghost-watchers avoided sleep the entire night, they would still claim to see no activity on the beach. And it had been a long time since anyone had seen a trail of fresh footprints along the wet sand in the morning.

“I’ll stay out here with you, Kaleb,” Gabe offered.

“Thanks buddy. Jonas, no one wants you out here anyway.”

Jonas swallowed his s’more with a loud gulp. “If you really wanted to go ghost hunting, you wouldn’t sit on the beach all night.”

Kaleb turned in his chair. “Really? What would I do, oh wise one?”

Jonas shrugged. “You’d go to the Parrish woods. Check out the Eskers in all its nighttime glory.”

“The mental institution? You’re off your rocker.” But Kaleb seemed excited despite his scoff. “Hey, Liv,” he shouted through the flames of the bonfire. “You’re a mental case. Would you go into the Eskers woods at night?”

Liv Frank was staring in the direction of the bay, stone-faced. Usually, she'd retaliate with a clever comeback. Alex envied Liv's wittiness even if she knew it only masked Liv's insecurities about her nutty family and her weight. Even in the dead of summer, Liv wore long pants because she hated her legs, yet now she shivered.

“Are you okay?”

Liv seemed surprised to find Alex sitting there. She nodded and murmured something about footprints.

Jonas shook his head. “I’m just saying … ”

Kaleb leapt to his feet. “Let’s go.”

Alex didn’t need to listen. She knew what would happen. Within minutes, they were packed into Kaleb’s Jeep en route to the Eskers. It intrigued Alex to be a participant in the dream, acting exactly like she had years ago, but she went along with it simply because she enjoyed it. And she was hopeful that Chase would reappear, the real Chase, not the one she was wedged next to. She was so close to him she was practically sitting on his lap, and her heart pounded in the dream no differently than it had in real life. It was invigorating to feel a true heartbeat again, not just the memory her mind created.

They stopped when they reached the middle of the woods, and they weren’t there half an hour before Jonas dared them to get out.

“Are you crazy?” Liv shrieked. “You aren’t supposed to get out of the car. Those are the rules!”

“Who made those rules, Liv? The ghosts?” Jonas snickered. “You just worry about your Weight Watchers rules. I’m going.”

Kaleb pulled the keys from the ignition. He couldn’t be outdone by his little brother. “Me, too.”

Alex hated to admit it, but she was curious.

“You aren’t supposed to turn off the car either,” Liv wailed.

“What?”

“You turned off the car! And the headlights!”

Kaleb shrugged. “Habit.”

Liv shook in panic.

“You’ll be fine.”

“Leave the keys,” she demanded, holding out a hand.

Kaleb fought a smile. “Are you planning to drive away without us?”

“No,” she said, but she didn’t sound completely sure.

“She's not going anywhere,” Jonas remarked. “There isn’t a McDonald’s around here.”

All participants in the dare needed to separate, and Alex found herself alone. Within seconds the air around her silenced. No movement, no whispers, no animals. It was dauntingly still, like the world after a snowfall. Alex tried to spot one of the others, but she couldn’t see a thing. She began whispering into the darkness, calling each of their names. No one answered. They couldn’t be far, so she called their names a little louder. The darkness swallowed her voice.

She decided to make her way back to the Jeep, but she couldn’t remember which way was which. She set off tentatively, crunching through the leaves. And then she froze.

She turned her head, listening for it again. The logical half of her brain insisted that she was making it up, but she couldn’t ignore the tinkling sound of tiny bells, like those on a clown hat. A jester’s hat. She picked up her pace.

They rang again, echoing in her head, except this time they’d moved to the right. Her fingers and toes grew numb with cold, and she could only warm herself with an overcoat of vulnerability. She heard a whimper escape her throat.

Chase, she thought.

Don’t worry. His voice came instantly, and Alex wondered if he had been there all along. That Jester guy is just messing with us.

Where are you now? In the dream.

Looking for you. He split us up.

Why?

He’s bored. We’re entertaining him.

He doesn’t want to hurt us, right?

No. I feel some sort of energy though, so there might be someone else out here with us, dead or alive. He might be trying to keep us away from whoever that is, too. What made you think of this anyway? Your mind must have held the memory for your dreams to carry you here.

I guess maybe because I saw the Jester mentioned in some book that Gabe was reading.

Gabe’s obsessed. But it is kind of cool that some of this world has to do with where we grew up.

The scene played out exactly how she remembered it. Each of them found their way back to the Jeep because they followed the sound of screaming. When they reached Liv, she was hyperventilating because a pair of blinding white lights was slowly traveling towards the car. The high beams grew larger and larger, and to avoid getting slammed by a car of such size, Kaleb quickly started the Jeep and veered sharply left to get out of the way.

It occurred to them on the way home that the road did not go straight ahead. The lights had been shining at them through the trees. And they were accompanied by the ringing of bells.

As the others screamed, Alex could hear giggling. It wasn’t external; it was like the laughter was inside her head.

And it sounded completely insane.

14

Brigitta’s classrooms all seemed the same: vast stadium seating, mahogany railings with desks attached, and raised stages for the instructors. The exception was Professor Duvall’s alchemy, botany, and chemistry workshops, nicknamed ABC. Alex considered the room to be a mix between a marine biologist’s dream and a mad scientist’s lab. A sheet of glass comprised the entire right side of the wall, revealing a tank filled with a variety of sea creatures from pea-sized fish to human-sized squids. To the left, jars wallpapered the room, floor to ceiling, displaying grotesquely unidentifiable contents. The one closest to Alex looked like it was filled with human fingers. Other jars were solid. She could only imagine what was hiding in those.

The only available seat waited for her in the back corner. Calla Bond slouched over the wobbly table, rocking with the precariously uneven legs. Her mousy hair fell over her freckled face, shielding her from the world. She was accompanied by two others: a boy who shared her features right down to the placement of freckles, and a portly boy scratching his scruffy blonde hair. Their feeble island isolated them from the rest of the class as though they were infectious.

Alex slid into the empty chair, and the pudgy boy jumped, gawked at her, and began to scoot his seat away.

A woman sidled into view, exiting from a misshapen door in the front corner of the classroom. She commanded them to turn to page six hundred sixty-six, and snickering filled the room.

Alex rummaged in her bag, but her stomach flip-flopped when she realized she had forgotten her book. What a fantastic first impression she’d make on this teacher. The freckled boy noticed her plight, and he scooted his chair closer to position his book directly in front of Alex.

“Thanks,” she said. “Can you see the page?”

He waved his hand, shooing the thought. “I already read the whole book.”

He had to be kidding. The textbook was the size of a small suitcase, and it was full of formulas and foreign languages. Not the sort of book one could memorize even with an accelerated brain. The pudgy boy met her gaze and winced like he was in pain.

“Ah, right,” said the teacher, “I sense new blood in the room. Where is she?” Like an anorexic runway model with her wiry hair and hollowed eyes, she high-stepped down the aisle and moved like a breeze to the snapping of the loose jewelry around her bone-thin neck and wrists. The thick, colorful beads reminded Alex of stage accessories in a dress-up trunk. Objects fell to the floor in her wake: a piece of paper in one row, an empty cup in another. She didn’t seem to notice. When she came close to Alex, she stiffened, aghast.

Alex greeted her with reserve.

Professor Duvall didn’t respond at first; she just hovered with her mouth frozen in an O. Alex should have been used to this since most of the teachers had behaved the same way. But, unlike the others, this woman’s mouth curved into a Cheshire Cat’s smile and her emerald eyes lit up. “I’ll be damned,” she murmured under her breath. “How did you do it?”

“I’m sorry?” Alex asked, confused.

Duvall waved off the question. “You are the one who took care of that dreadful gargoyle of a bench?”

Alex nodded. News really traveled fast around here.

“Good riddance. I have despised that bench for a century. I’m Professor Lucia Duvall. It’s lovely to meet you.” She regarded the other occupants of Alex’s table with derision, sucking in her already skeletal cheeks. “It would be favorable for you to occupy a seat closer to the front, would it not?”

Alex double checked the seats in the room but saw no vacancies.

“You have much to catch up on.”

“Oh.” She placed a hand on the book sitting between her and the boy. “He’s loaning me his textbook today.”

“I see.” Professor Duvall sneered at Alex’s remote table of rejects before gliding to the front of the room.

Alex let out a breath and curled her arms around her chest. She wondered why she had chills up her spine. Then she realized the freckled boy next to her was grinding his oversized teeth. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” he muttered, glaring at the teacher. “Just the witch.”

Alex didn’t think she’d heard him correctly. “The what?”

He pointed to the front of the room.

“Jade stones!” Professor Duvall’s voice rang through the vaulted rafters. “Mr. Seyferr, if you could be helpful enough to tell us how this substance affects the bodied.”

The round-faced boy on Alex’s other side began to flip through the pages of his book furiously.

“Hello!” Duvall barked. “Reuben Seyferr!”

“I …” Reuben Seyferr squeaked in a voice much smaller than he was. He itched at one of his arms. “I don’t remember.”

“You didn’t read the chapter?”

“I did. I just … ”

“See me after class.” Duvall’s voice was angrily high-pitched, but she seemed pleased that she’d embarrassed him. “Jackery Bond?”

The freckled boy lifted his chin. “Yes?”

“Jade stones?”

Jackery Bond sighed. “For humans, excuse me, the bodied, jade is often a symbol for perfection and immortality. Mesoamerican Indian masks often had the stone embedded within the representations of their gods,” he recited. “The Chinese also greatly value the stone.”

Alex was impressed. Perhaps he had memorized the entire book.

“Humph.” Duvall gave a sniff nod. “And Skye.” She refocused her attention, and her tone softened considerably. “For what do we use the stone?”

“Our doctors use it,” Skye responded in a sing-song voice. “It helps to sustain spiritual injuries in the core area.” She pointed to her hips.

Alex wasn’t sure what to think about Skye Gossamer. That morning, she had walked up to Alex in the vestibule and stared into Alex’s eyes, scrutinizing her own reflection. “You have long eyelashes,” she’d said. “That means you don’t always allow yourself to the see the things right in front of you.” And then she’d turned her heel, and her long auburn hair billowed behind her like a curtain.

“Very good.” Duvall gave a small nod of approval. She openly favored Skye over Jackery or Reuben. She waved her arm above her head in a fist and the image of a primrose yellow stone appeared, hovering in midair.

“Jackery,” Alex whispered, “is that a projection?”

“I guess you could say that. And call me Jack.”

“Where’s the screen?”

“Not necessary. There’s no technology. She’s projecting it herself. When you do see the technology here, you’ll know it.” He grinned. “Give your mind some time.”

“And the Voix,” Duvall continued, tapping her chin and eying the class. “What did you read about this mineral?”

Madison Constance raised her hand. “The Voix is found in parts of France mostly in, hold on,” she said, frowning down at her notes. “Lorraine, France, where they believe the stone helps to enlighten the user.”

“Very good,” Duvall said. “The bodied assume the stone will reveal to them some knowledge they were meant to hear, when in reality, what the Voix really does is endow the user the ability to hear spirits. What was not included in your reading is that the bodied who claim to be clairvoyant will simply keep these stones in their possession.” She gave the class a haughty look. “This was actually why the term ‘medium’ was coined by spirits, because medium means something in the middle or average. Many who call themselves mediums are nothing but average humans with no special gifts at all. Just a large stash of Voix. Legitimately gifted mediums also use the stones but only to help boost the senses of their clients.”

Professor Duvall waved her hand and the image changed to a small red-brown bracelet. “There is much magic to be found in minerals. Some more powerful than others.” She whipped her hand open, spreading her bony fingers wide. Alex watched the tiny bracelet grow to the size of a garden hose.

“This representation is a piece of copper jewelry sold by a vendor here in the states. Unbeknownst to the seller, this bracelet contains magic. It arrived here with us nearly two hundred and fifty years ago, and its powers have never diminished.”

Jack and Reuben shared a knowing look when Duvall mentioned magic. Calla raised her hand, but she was ignored.

“Do the powers of the stone diminish the more it is used?” Madison Constance asked.

“It depends on the type of stone,” Joey Rellingsworth interrupted. “Right, Professor?”

She nodded. “Most minerals are quite temperamental. Some fade with age, some fade with use.” Duvall scanned the room, still disregarding Calla. “Yes, Madison?”

“Is it true that you can divide a stone without killing the properties?”

Duvall rearranged her tangled jewelry. “Again, it depends on the stone. Often, if a stone is divided, the power will divide with it.”

The soft scratching of scribbling pencils filled the room, and Alex realized that she should probably be taking notes. She didn’t want to be on Duvall’s bad side.

“Case in point.” The projection of the bracelet grew even larger. “This piece has been tampered with, because typically with copper, you can split the stone, but it will weaken the power. Not true with this one. Other questions? No? Good.”

Calla sighed and lowered her hand.

Another image flashed in front of the class. The setting was some sort of hospital. People in blue scrubs flanked an operating table with a bench of medical tools to the side. The doctors swarmed around the patient’s head, but nothing appeared to be wrong with him.

“Is that a photo?”

Jack shook his head. “You can’t take a picture of a ghost. She’s projecting it from her memory.”

“This soldier,” Duvall said, “was attacked while accompanying an ambassador to a sister city in Russia.”

“It just looks like he’s asleep,” a boy with a pointy nose remarked.

“Very true, Mr. Darwin, but some substances are toxic to us in our spiritual shells because they are typically toxic to the brain. Copper, for instance. This solider died.”

Darwin. The boy’s black eyes matched his spiked hair just like Tess.

Duvall looked up at her own memory. “During the procedure documented here, doctors were able to successfully imprint jade within the mind of the soldier. But the effects of the copper turned out to be too strong.”

Alex began to raise her hand, but Madison Constance beat her to it. “If jade heals the core area, why would it need to be put into his mind?”

“Because when the solider was attacked, the copper was shot into the projection of his abdomen. His mind creates the projection of his core area, and therefore it needed to be his mind where the healing took place.

“Amazing, yet often unfortunate what a simple rock can do.”

The image of the bracelet began to spin.

“Almost as amazing as what the mind can do.”

* * *

“So what do you think of the witch?” Jack asked when the class was dismissed.

“She didn’t seem like a witch to me.”

“Ha! She’s not going to jump on her broomstick and ride around the classroom, is she? Everyone knows what she is, and even if they didn’t, we have our very own tenth generation witch hunter to confirm it.”

Jack beamed at Reuben, whose eyes never left the ground to acknowledge Alex.

The Darwin boy with the pointy nose rushed past them. He chased after a taller boy with identical features, with Tess-the-Pest at his heels, shoving Reuben into the wall and knocking Jack’s books from his arms. Reuben tucked his chin down even lower in embarrassment.

“But the weirdest part”—Jack scooped up his belongings without missing a beat—“is that she came here when she died. Spirits and witches are not friendly.”

The statement seemed ridiculous to Alex. “What? They couldn’t figure out who got custody of the werewolves?”

Calla crossed her arms at Alex in disapproval. She walked unusually fast, and Alex wondered if she was trying to ditch her. Jack, on the other hand, let out a little laugh. At least he had a sense of humor. “Seriously though,” he said, “why would she take refuge in Eidolon? Why wouldn’t she just return to her old life? She must have done something wrong.”

After a minute, Jack began to whistle merrily while Calla scanned the hallway. The way she acted, Alex wondered if they might be under enemy fire at any moment. Reuben tripped over his feet to keep up with them, resembling a meatball rolling down the hallway. This trio of misfits was so very bizarre.

Judging by the expression Jonas gave her when he saw her company, he agreed. “New friends?” he asked once he had stolen her away.

“I guess. They’re an interesting bunch.”

“Interesting? That’s a very political way to describe them. You always were a bleeding heart.”

“What do you mean?”

He pretended to cradle his bag in his arms. “You adopt weirdoes like some people adopt stray kittens.”

“Shut up! Wait. How do you figure?”

“Oh my god. Liv Frank!”

“Liv was not a weirdo!”

“Oh please!” Jonas sniffed. “She had invisible friends up until middle school. She’d even introduce them to people.”

Alex couldn’t deny that Liv marched to the beat of her own drum. Actually, she was her own one-man band. “I always thought maybe you had a crush on Liv.”

Jonas crinkled his nose in revulsion. “How could you have possibly come across that theory?”

“You were so mean to her.”

“And?”

Alex swallowed her words. Jonas had never been one to control his emotions. If he felt strongly about someone or something, any emotion would do.

She only realized when Jonas pushed her away how close they’d been huddled together laughing. A storm cloud appeared on his face, solemn and pouty, and thus Alex was not surprised to look up and see Gabe and Kaleb standing ten yards away. The way Kaleb eyed his brother, Jonas could have been an insect buzzing in circles around Alex’s head, and Kaleb seemed prepared to swat him away if necessary.

* * *

The first time a boy told Alex he loved her, she was four years old. It was February thirteenth. She and Chase sat together in a flour-clouded kitchen helping Danya make cupcakes for Jonas’s class party. They’d already mixed together the ingredients, swiped the batter with their tiny fingers, and licked the bowl clean, but they whined to help more. Danya gave each of them an icing bag with a metal tip and laid out parchment paper so they could practice making hearts with the icing before drawing them on the cupcakes.

Alex concentrated so hard her face scrunched in feverish determination. But no matter how hard she tried, hearts were just too difficult.

Jonas was slamming his hands into the stray flour, sending wisps of white into the air like powdery smoke, so his mother suggested he select candy sweethearts to put on the family cupcakes.

“What does this one say, Mom?”

She glanced over. “U R a 10.”

Jonas scrutinized the cupcakes before placing the heart on the one with a big G for Gabe.

“This one?” he asked.

“Lover boy,” she said absently.

Jonas smirked and put it on Kaleb’s cupcake. “And this one?”

“Hug me.”

He placed it on Danya’s, and she smiled.

“I hate hearts!” Alex burst out in frustration, throwing down the tube of icing. Her blobs looked more like amoebas. “I can’t do them.”

“Just practice your letters, then,” Danya suggested calmly.

Alex stuck out her lip, determined to pout. But it wasn’t every day they were allowed to use icing to color. Moments later, she picked up the tube and began to draw her initials, since those were her best letters. Pretty soon, silver ARA’s were covering the page like stars in the sky.

“This one?” Jonas held up a green candy heart.

“I love you.”

“May I have something to eat?” Alex asked.

Danya checked her watch. “Didn’t you eat breakfast?”

Alex hung her head and muttered something under her breath.

“What?”

“I said I couldn’t find any food at home.”

Danya bit her lip. “I’ll make you something, honey. Wash your hands.” She looked like she might cry as she pulled a chair to the sink. She turned back to her son who watched her cautiously. “Jonas, did you give that I LUV U heart to Daddy?”

“No,” Jonas said, shuffling through the rest of the candy.

“To Chase?”

“No.”

“Who’d you give it to?”

“Alex.”

“Oh really?” There was humor in her tone. “Why? Because it’s green? Alex loves green.”

“No. Because I love her,” he said casually.

Danya bit her bottom lip. “Oh, you do?” she asked. Chase put down his icing and frowned.

“Yep,” Jonas said, holding up another sweetheart. “This one?”

“Alex, I’ll make you a sandwich, but your cupcake is there,” Danya said, pointing to the one with the green I LUV U.

“Thanks.” Alex returned to her stool, oblivious to the message she couldn’t read. “Hey!” She noticed the parchment paper. “How’d you do that?” Where there used to be a sea of ARA’s, there were now upside down R’s and hearts.

“I just added a sideways 3 to the bottom of the A and flipped it over.” Chase beamed at her. “It wasn’t too hard.”

“Show me how!” Alex didn’t even glance at the cupcake when she peeled off the paper.

Of course Chase would be the one to figure out how to complete her heart. Jonas sat quietly, flicking candy hearts across the kitchen.

Alex had not remembered until this memory came back to her five times stronger during death, but when she attempted to eat the cupcake, it was bitter. Each bite tasted like a violation, like someone was reaching down her throat and trying to steal something that wasn’t his to take.

15

“Have you thought more about our discussion last time? About purpose?”

Alex groaned. “No, not really, Ellington. And by the way, you sound like a real shrink when you bring up stuff like that.”

He folded his hand in his lap. “A real shrink? What do you think I am?”

“You’re not exactly typical, and I mean that in the nicest possible way.”

“What did those typical shrinks say to make you so apprehensive about therapy?”

“They didn’t really listen. They never accepted my relationship with Chase, the reality of it. They labeled it to be another intense teenage Romeo and Juliet romance gone wrong. They believed I clung to Chase because of my”—Alex rolled her eyes—“daddy issues.”

“In all honesty, I have to say if you were still alive, I might be steering you down the exact same path. But thankfully, on that topic, here everyone is on a level playing field when they arrive. Everyone suffers a bit from the self-esteem and abandonment issues that might result from a negligent parent. We each arrive here alone, usually as young adults who still need the comfort of parental love and guidance. Without people who are obligated to care for us and support us.”

“Why is that? Why are most newburies my age?”

Ellington propped his feet on the nearest chair. “I think young children are braver than young adults. They aren’t afraid of what is behind shiny door number two. They are willing to leave themselves behind. Adults, on the other hand, usually are not even presented with the option. Their spirits have become blemished by the stress and complications of life.”

“Stress and complications? Like going to school and finding a job? How is that different from what we have to do here?”

“Don’t confuse work with purpose.”

“Here we go.”

Ellington gnawed at his pen. “Have you put any thought into it? You need to find more than one thing in this world to live for. Potential drifts around you like a perfume, and yet you ignore it.”

“I can’t explain what pulls me towards Chase, but I’ve come to realize it isn’t something I can control.”

“I will negotiate with you. I’ll accept that Chase is half of you. You’ve been running after this love all your life and death. What do you do once you have it?”

“Live happily ever after.”

Ellington mimicked puking. “The modern spins on fairy tales continue to warp the impressionable minds of children. What will you do during your happily ever after? Sit there and stare at each other for all eternity? No matter how much you deny it, eventually you will resent him.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’ll wake up one day with the air around you stale, in a rotting world, because your thoughts have done nothing except fester.” He glanced at the walls. “To believe that simply attaining companionship and nothing else would truly make you happy would be expected of someone with—as you termed it—daddy issues.”

“You said everyone has those here.”

“In the sense that everyone is looking for approval. Spirits arrive here alone and have to find their place. The aspects of our human nature do not fade away when we pass on, by our choice. One of those aspects being the need for acceptance.”

“Is that why the families stick together here?”

“I believe so, yes.”

“I don’t have family,” Alex said firmly, holding Ellington’s gaze. “Why doesn’t anyone care to discuss why?”

“Even if we had the time to address it today, is it worth discussing someone or something that is gone?”

The irony of that statement was enough to make Alex laugh aloud. Technically, that was the essence of Ellington’s profession. “What would be the purpose of history class, or even sitting here in this room, if we weren’t interested in the past?”

“Touché.”

* * *

“So what is this meeting about?” Jonas griped. “Besides hard labor.”

Thick brown paper and pumpkin innards blanketed the tables in Grandiuse Hall. The entire student body was put to work carving jack-o-lanterns to decorate the streets of the town. Eidolon always seemed to have a marvelous charge in the air, but the Halloween season made the excitement electrifying, and consequently the Hall stunk of burnt pumpkin seeds.

“Yeah, because carving pumpkins is such hard work,” Gabe joked.

Jonas sniffed. “Involuntary work.”

Alex couldn’t complain. This was better than another Grandiuse lecture on study habits, losing books, loitering in the courtyard, or new consequences for bullying Reuben and the Bond twins.

Reuben sat alone at a nearby table of chokers, a nickname for the newburies who still had difficulty coming to terms with their recent deaths. Jonas called them the “suicides.” They were the only spirits indifferent enough to allow Reuben at their table. He sat clutching a butcher knife in his pudgy hands, and his tongue stuck out from the corner of his mouth as he eyed his jack-o-lantern critically. Someone had dumped a mound of pumpkin guts on top of his backpack on the floor behind him. He hadn’t noticed it yet.

“Do you think there will be a lecture today?”

“I’m sure they’ll talk about appropriate behavior at the haunted house,” Kaleb replied. “You know, that we shouldn’t really be acting like ghosts.”

Alex analyzed the best angle to chip away at her pumpkin’s dangly tooth. In a way, it kind of resembled Jack Bond. “Isn’t the point of a haunted house to scare people?”

“In theory,” Kaleb said. “But the real purpose of the Mansion of Morgues is kind of reverse psychology. If the haunting is considered a joke in this town, our presence is safe.”

“A joke?”

“I guess the more suitable word is scapegoat. Some towns are infamous for supernatural activity, usually because there’s some lingerer hanging out and scaring people. Like our very own Parrish. Moribund has never been one of those towns. And ironically, the largest population of spirits in the United States is only a few miles away. The area is only known for superficial Halloween haunting. Pretty good diversion, if you ask me.”

“Ghosts pretending to be people pretending to be ghosts.” Gabe pushed aside his pumpkin and opened a book. “I wonder if we’ll get Chase back before then. They’ve kept him for a long time.”

Alex remained quiet on the subject. She’d been speaking with Chase regularly in her dreams, and he was still less than optimistic that his release would be soon. When she felt his presence in her mind, a distance remained. The previous night, for instance, her dreams had placed her in a rowboat, stretched out on her back, staring up at the clouds. When Chase entered the dream, his voice couldn’t have been more than a few feet away. She imagined he was in a similar boat, arms crossed behind his head, smiling at a sky as blue as his eyes. She asked him then, as she always did, when she would get to see him. He said when they were done using him, and she’d been too afraid to ask what he meant by that.

Kaleb picked out a sharper knife. “Romey told me this morning that he’s been cooperative. But that’s all. I think she’s missed him more than we have.”

“Weird,” Gabe said, “He’s been nothing but a pain since he got here.”

“What would a mother hen do without anyone to mother?”

The air around Jonas began to crackle softly. “Are you okay?” Alex whispered, but Jonas didn’t look at her.

“So, have they fixed the numbering on the classrooms yet?” he asked the group.

Kaleb groaned. “You know, that’s what they get for making every single door in every single hallway of the learning center look exactly the same. I’ve gotten so used to walking into the classroom for sociology that I should just take the aptitude assessment and get the credit for it.”

Gabe grinned. “I’ll do your homework for a week if you pass it.”

Kaleb twirled his knife through his fingers, considering the trade.

“At least the numbering prank was funny,” Gabe said. “The fountain and the lure birds? Not so much.”

“Don’t forget the furniture on the roof,” Kaleb added. “That one was pretty good. Oh, and the Bonds tied up in the broom closet.”

“I guarantee the broom closet was no prank. That was just a typical afternoon for the Bonds.” Gabe looked at his brothers meaningfully. “By the way, I heard another newbury blaming us the other day at the ball fields.”

Kaleb shook his head. “Whatever. They can’t prove anything.”

Alex picked the pumpkin guts from her fingers. “Blaming you for the pranks? Why?”

“Because for one, the pranks started right after we arrived here,” Kaleb answered. “For two, Chase was running around campus acting a fool and being as inconspicuous as the Hamburglar. For three, we haven’t been the targets of any of the pranks. That just looks incriminating.” He lowered his voice. “I heard why everyone was freaking out about the fountain on the day Alex arrived. It was contaminated with copper. If it had filtered into the air while we were all sleeping, everyone would have woken up completely stoned.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad.” Jonas stabbed his knife into the pumpkin repeatedly. He twisted and turned the blade until finally, grinning, he spun around the pumpkin to show Alex the carving of his name.

“That’s like sniffing household products, moron. It could have killed our minds, depending on how much was used.”

That quieted Jonas.

“Where would someone get copper? The only person in the school who might have a stash of it would be Professor Duvall.”

“Somehow I doubt her guilt,” Gabe said. “Although, Jack, Calla, and Reuben do live in Brigitta.”

Professor Duvall continued to openly ridicule the trio for any shortcomings they exhibited in class. She had a difficult time with Jack, however. He never missed an answer and never let her treatment faze him.

Kaleb held the tip of his knife to his mouth in thought. “What about the Darwins? Do you think they might have had access to the minerals? They spend an awful lot of time with Duvall.”

Alex peeked over her pumpkin. Skye Gossamer was sitting with the Darwins, attracting stares from the adjoining table of boys. She was like a rose among their sharp, thorny exteriors. Tess’s arms were crossed in defiance; apparently she shared Jonas’s views on involuntary labor. Linton Darwin, on the other hand, had crawled off the bench to kneel on the table in order to carve his jack-o-lantern at the right angle. Xavier Darwin, the oldest, pretended to stab himself in the stomach with his knife until he noticed Alex and the Lasalles staring in his direction, and then he sent his pumpkin flying across the room to land with a sickening splat against the wall behind Alex’s head.

Gabe flicked a seed from his shoulder. “Maybe Duvall knows something we don’t.”

The groan of heavy doors interrupted the happy chatter in the Hall. The Bonds entered the room, shuffling quickly down the aisles, Calla with her chin down and Jack with his held high.

“Speak of the devils,” Kaleb coughed.

The Bonds held their hands behind their backs like inmates entering a prison. Linton began flicking seeds in their direction. Xavier looked sour. He was probably upset he’d already wasted his pumpkin on the Lasalles.

“They should have just walked through the doors without opening them. That would have drawn less attention.”

Everyone in the hall, even the chokers, seemed to be sliding down the benches, suddenly needing more space than before. Alex could swear she even saw the arched lamps leaning closer to the tables, shrinking away from the duo. She made a point to wave them over, despite Jonas’s objections through gritted teeth.

The Bonds took a seat next to Alex, and Kaleb shook his head in astonishment. For a moment, she worried he would jump on the ridicule bandwagon, but Kaleb seldom allowed others to steer his course. He set down his knife and rested his elbows on the table. “How did you two get away with showing up an hour late for Grandiuse?”

“It wasn’t by choice,” Calla replied in a soft tone of embarrassment. She moved over to make room for Reuben, who had barreled over to the table, leaving behind a trail of pumpkin innards and desperation.

“I wonder which closet they were locked inside this time,” Jonas said quietly to Alex.

Jack, ignoring his usual withering effect on the world, rubbed his freckled hands together. “I love carving pumpkins!”

Kaleb handed him a knife. “Here. You sure do know how to catch a crowd’s attention.” His tone was almost admiring. “Where were you guys?”

Alex cringed, hesitant to hear their response.

“We had to clean up a bit of graffiti.”

Jonas bent forward to see them better. “You vandalized something?”

Jack didn’t look up at them. “No. We just volunteered to clean it up.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because the words were mean,” Calla replied. “And they were about us.”

Alex felt the pang of pity. Written words were so much harsher than spoken. Ink had the power to marker one's esteem. In the ninth grade, someone had tagged her locker with the word slut. Just because she was friends with the boys. She could still picture the thick, red lettering, and how the tail of the S swiveled across the adjoining lockers. She’d never seen Chase so angry. He was there to save her then, but who did the Bonds have to save them? “We would have helped you wash it off.”

Jack shrugged carelessly. “Probably another prank.”

“We were just talking about the pranks. But what’s the big deal? Why is the city so concerned about a bunch of jokes?”

“Rules here aren’t broken,” Jack explained.

“Hence Chase’s removal,” Gabe said to Alex. “If rules are broken inside the city, rules can be broken outside the city. And that’s dangerous. It really isn’t tolerated at all. This world is successful due to order. They say carve pumpkins, we ask how many. They say yell boo, and we ask how loud.”

“The pranks are being viewed as a form of protest,” Jack added. “That’s why they are being taken so seriously. They want to know who might be objecting to how things are run around here.”

An irritable voice interrupted their conversation. “Silence, please!” Professor Van Hanlin stepped forward and lifted his hands. A gust of arctic air blew through the room. “Time is up!”

Jack stuck out his lower lip in disappointment.

“I’ve got this,” Madame Paleo said, practically shoving Van Hanlin off the stage. When she smiled, her nose took up her entire face. “Movers! Please remove the pumpkins from the tables. You’ll find space for them up front.”

Jack and Calla stood up with a half dozen other newburies, and the Hall became silent except for the whishing of jack-o-lanterns racing to the front of the Grandiuse. They hovered outside a door adjacent to the stage where Madame Paleo stood, directing their paths like an air traffic controller.

Alex couldn’t contain her astonishment. “How do they do that?”

Jonas smirked. “Says the girl who demolished cement. It isn’t magic, just brainpower. You transferred energy, probably from fear, but who cares? Telekinetics is just pushing your own energy into some other object.”

Gabe picked up his pencil and dropped it, frowning. “Yeah, I’m definitely not talented enough yet to move anything. I can close my eyes and see it in my head, but I don’t think I believe it enough to make it happen.”

“Those of you standing,” Paleo continued, “please head outside to practice telekinetics. If a guest at the haunted house doesn’t seem terrified enough, I’ve found that objects flying across the room seemingly of their own accord will usually do the trick.”

“Sweet.” Jonas sat up straighter. “They’re giving us the haunted house assignments.”

Gabe held out his pencil again, staring at it intently. When he let go, it fell to the table. “Jack, I didn’t realize you knew telekinetics.”

Jack nodded, took Calla’s hand, and walked off with a faint glint of smugness in his eyes, while the Darwins booed loudly from the legacy table. Alex glared at them and caught Linton flicking more pumpkin seeds, which bounced off of Jack’s head like misguided raindrops. Her adrenaline tweaked in anger and began to cartwheel in violent circles within her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut to escape her dizziness, but it only made it worse. She shook her head and pictured herself pulling away from the friction, and thankfully it released.

The room filled with gasps, and Alex opened her eyes to find Linton’s bench flipped over and his feet up above his head. Every spirit with the misfortune of sitting near him had also tumbled backwards. Alex’s head pounded.

Had she done that? She could barely hear Jonas over the sound of gongs crashing in her head.

“I wonder why they didn’t pick you to go with the movers.”

“Huh?” she asked, massaging her temples distractedly.

Jonas pointed to the front of the room where Jack was exiting.

“How come Jack and Calla aren’t a part of that little clique, then?”

Jonas snickered. “Have you met the Bonds? Jack isn’t exactly the class president.” He paused, watching Alex. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” The pressure in her head became a dull ache. She glanced at Linton guiltily.

Van Hanlin narrowed his eyes and the lights brightened around him. “Enough foolishness. Please listen carefully for your name and direct yourself to the appropriate mentor.”

Madame Paleo stepped in front of him again. She had a pencil behind one ear and a director’s clapboard in her hand. She beamed importantly. “For those students on my list, please remain here in the Hall and migrate to the back of the room. We will be using the stage to reenact murder scenes from history, which will be performed throughout various rooms in the house while the guests venture through.”

Kaleb was the only familiar name to be called.

Alex waited while the professors announced several more groups. Gabe left with the newburies who would train to be “stalkers.” It was difficult to imagine sweet Gabe pursuing guests and pretending to be an axe murderer. By the time Van Hanlin took the stage again, only a handful of students remained, Alex and Jonas included. He led them outside, where he sliced the air with this arm, dividing the group in half. He was quiet for a moment, assessing his students. His eyes came to a rest on Alex and lingered there.

“Each year we have to shake things up a bit,” he began. “Perhaps the scariest aspect of the house this season is actually outside of the mansion, because the guests are going to think they’re lost. They will be chased through the woods, where we will be guiding them through a predetermined course.”

Skye raised her hand. “What will we be hunting them with?”

“Weapons.”

“That’s nothing new, is it?”

“The chase? No. The difference this year is that invisible spirits will track them as well, filling their heads with whispers. You will use voice boxes,” said Van Hanlin, holding up a small device. “They operate with the use of Voix stones. I want the whispers to come from all around them: left, right, above, below. That should scare them all the more. If a guest strays, use the voice box to get them back on track.”

“How do we know they’ll listen to us?” Jonas asked.

Alex pictured herself floating after some kid running in the wrong direction with his arms flailing above his head. That would be just her luck.

“When a human is scared, it is in their nature to scream, tense up, blink, and even skip a heartbeat. You will use that split second to redirect them.”

“Are you sure they’ll listen?” Reuben asked, eying the trees.

“Yeah,” Joey Rellingsworth agreed. “Because they could end up so lost.”

“They will pause,” Van Hanlin replied with certainty. “The human brain can only withstand a certain number of commands at once. When frightened, the mind tries to refresh itself when it overloads. You are going to command it instead, and your memorization of the routes will make the operation foolproof.”

There were a few nervous murmurs throughout the group.

“I’ll be supervising,” Van Hanlin said pompously. “Nothing will go wrong.”

16

Chase worried how long they were going to detain him. If it was a month ago, even a year ago, he wouldn’t have cared whether he was detained at the Dual Towers, or stuck in some workshop at Brigitta, or truly dead. It didn’t matter where he was. He wouldn’t feel whole if he was separated from Alex.

It was so strange. She was there in his head. He could sense her. He could feel her now. He felt her anxiety when she first arrived in Eidolon. He felt fear several minutes later. And he felt a burst of happiness soon after, and he wondered which of his brothers had warranted such a reaction.

He knew his newfound talent had resulted in his confinement. When he looked at someone, he could see their desires, their grief, and their passions. Whatever happened to be flowing through them at the time, he could see the color of it.

He should have kept his mouth shut, but when Ellington arrived, and Chase asked him why he was surrounded by flashes of pale yellow light, the cat was out of the bag. And the spirits keeping him here were trying to tame his gift.

They treated him well, pampering him if anything, but they studied him, used him, and forced him to accompany them during interviews. At least, they called them interviews. Chase figured they were more like interrogations.

It interested him how one question could cause a spark of new light. He couldn’t hear the questions. He could only see the reactions. From muddy blue to metallic gold, Chase would transcribe what he saw. He wasn’t quite sure what every variation meant, but he was beginning to learn. Ellington, who continued to visit Chase for his regularly scheduled therapy sessions, claimed this was a good thing. According to him, it took some spirits years to figure out how they might fit into this world.

Chase already knew his purpose, however. The only light he was interested in seeing was Alex’s. He had an advantage now. The moment he was close enough, he’d been able to see her true colors. He’d finally know how she felt about him. Her heart would no longer be closed off.

That was the only place he truly wanted to fit.

* * *

Van Hanlin had mapped out the routes in the haunted house woods so well that by the time they finally visited the mansion, Alex and her group needed less than an hour to memorize the miles of trails. Van Hanlin strutted around the campus, boasting pretentiously about his leadership and efficiency until finally Paleo intervened. She irritably suggested he put himself to use and disperse his newburies to assist the other professors.

Alex was sent to the kitchen, where Professor Duvall stood stirring a thick, red substance in a black pot. It smelled wretched, and Duvall gave Alex the creeps, so she turned on her heel to escape. Before she could scamper away, Jack’s voice came from the corner of the room. “Alex, hey! Where are you going?”

Alex cringed. Hadn’t he realized she was ducking out? Why would he yell her name?

Professor Duvall whipped around. The cooking spoon in her hand splattered red goo across the cabinet. “Whoops,” she sang, zeroing in on Jack with a grimace. “Bond, why are you loitering in the doorway?”

He shrugged. “The movers wandered off somewhere.”

Alex doubted it was a coincidence that he’d been left behind.

“Well,” huffed Duvall, “go help set up the Porta-Potties on the front lawn. They were delivered last week, but they’re arranged too close to the road.”

“Porta-Potties?” Alex interrupted. “What do we need those for?”

“They aren’t for us. Patrons are encouraged to relieve themselves before entering the house. In the past, many have lost their ability to function because of their fright.”

“Ew.” Alex wrinkled her nose.

“Bond, Porta-Potties! Go!”

“Fine,” Jack grumbled and exited the room.

Professor Duvall muttered something about where he belonged, and then her attention traveled to Alex, and she seemed to shudder a little, though a smile spread across her face. “My dear Alex, follow me.”

She led Alex down a hallway and through a set of sliding doors, where she paused and held out a small paint roller, brush, and tray covered with what looked like yellowy mucus. “I cannot decipher what it is about you to make your presence so electrifying. Maybe it’s your appearance.”

“My appearance?” Alex asked, coming through the sliding doors and entering a ballroom that might once have been stunning. Windows stretched from the floor to a ceiling littered with chandeliers, like a field of butterfly cocoons. Spiderweb cracks speckled the glass, casting jagged shadows along the chipped paint of the walls. A crippled grand piano with a protective coat of dust cowered alone in a corner. Alex sidestepped around the blotches and rusty brown stains on the floor, hoping it wasn’t blood.

“You do look so much like them,” Duvall murmured.

She had Alex’s full attention now. “Them?”

“I meant to say her. Your mother, of course.”

“You said them. Is more of my family here?”

“No.”

“Of course not,” Alex said more to herself than to Duvall. “Why is everyone related to me gone?”

“Some people just have magic in their souls. It is unfortunate that they are the ones who don’t get to stick around long enough to reach their full potential. The brightest lights burn out the fastest, or maybe they are just more difficult to conceal.” She shook her head at Alex’s bewildered expression. “Don’t be fooled by the utopian pretense of Eidolon. There is a reason why our city is surrounded by walls and gates, among other invisible barricades.” Duvall’s voice lowered. “Even though our little Garden of Eden itself has been known to contain its fair share of snakes.”

“What?”

“Never you mind.”

Alex couldn’t drop the subject. She clutched on to it, grasping for any tidbit of information about her family. “Can you tell me what happened to my mother?”

Duvall leaned over a bucket that reeked of old gym socks and rotten honey. “Unfortunately, I don’t know. Nobody knows. She disappeared.”

“Disappeared?”

“Presumably gone, I’m afraid.”

“Why is that presumed?”

Duvall poured some of the goop into Alex’s paint tray. “Fear. People are afraid of the unknown. And no one could predict the extent of what your mom could do.”

“But Ellington Reynes told me that my mother didn’t have any special talents.”

Duvall adjusted her shawls, and her jewelry clinked softly. She reached into the bucket and extracted another paint roller. “Sometimes a mind will take its time before opening itself to its gifts. Some buds wait longer to blossom.”

“And why would anyone assume she had something worth waiting for?”

“There was enough evidence.” Duvall allowed Alex to ponder the meaning of this. After a few minutes, she clunked one of her heels against the bucket. “The Rhodo gel has a little kick to it, doesn’t it?”

“It stinks.” Alex lifted her paint roller from the tray. The mixture clung to it like a gigantic wad of yellow bubblegum. It pulsated, gripping the side of the container like the tentacle of a squid.

Duvall hummed a tune, harmonizing with the squeak of her paint roller spreading the gel over the wall. With her free hand, she held out a stone and extended it in Alex’s direction. “Tell me. Were you immensely strong-minded in life?”

“What do you mean?” Alex asked, gingerly dipping the tip of her brush into the goo.

“Oh you’ll need much more than that,” Duvall barked. She placed her hands on her hips, and the paint roller continued to spread Rhodo gel along the wall all by itself. “I mean, were you intelligent?”

Alex attempted to let go of her roller as Duvall had done, but it slammed to the floor with a clatter and a splat. “Average, I guess.”

Duvall seemed disappointed. “What about your strength?”

“Physically?” Alex laughed and picked up her roller. “I could barely lift my pencil without breaking a bone in my finger.”

“Any special gifts?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“If you had them you would understand.” She twirled the stone with her fingers. “You weren’t one of the gifted, were you?”

“Huh?”

“Magical?”

“Not that I know of.” Alex slopped a glob of gel against the wall, where it stuck like superglue. She kneaded the slime with the brush in her other hand to try to smooth it out.

Duvall placed her free hand back on her paint roller, which squeaked like a rusty old swing. Finally she said, “Undoubtedly your bloodline runs deep here. There are few explanations to explain why you are so skilled. Heredity might be the answer.”

Oh my gosh, thought Alex, not her too.

“Spirits evolve like anything else. Members of certain spiritually inclined families are more talented. Where did you say you were from?”

Alex swiped her hair from her eyes with her forearm. “Parrish, Maryland.”

The creaking from Duvall’s roller ceased abruptly. “Come again?”

“Parrish? It’s a tiny town outside of Annapolis.”

Duvall turned and began painting feverishly. “That’s a busy town.”

“Not really. It’s actually pretty small.”

“I wasn’t referring to the physical world, my dear.”

Alex dipped her roller into the tray. “I suppose there were a lot of ghost stories. Is Parrish like Eidolon?”

Duvall shook her head. “Not the same at all.”

“Then why is Parrish is so”—she used the word Duvall had provided—“busy?”

“Some towns just are, my dear.”

Alex didn’t appreciate the vague answer. She absently rolled the goo onto the wall, lost in thought.

“Pick up the pace over there. We need to coat the entire perimeter, but just about six feet or so. It doesn’t have to be higher than the height of the average human. No one is going to back into the wall twenty feet up.” Duvall’s bony arm swept the length of the ballroom. “Newburies will be ballroom dancing in here. Once the guests are chased into the room, they have to make their way through the horde of masked dancers, who have various weapons to flash in their faces. There’s also a stunt guest who runs through and gets stabbed, a scene that propels the other guests to the walls, where they have to fight their way out of the Rhodo gel.”

“Sounds traumatizing,” Alex said.

For several minutes, the only sound in the room was the clinking of Duvall’s bracelets and the shlop of the slime bucket. It was quite uncomfortable, especially since Duvall kept staring at her and inching closer with the stone. By the time Calla arrived to save Alex, Duvall’s outstretched hand hovered close enough that if Alex had turned her head, her nose would graze the rock.

“Paleo ordered me to come and get you.” Calla shriveled under Duvall’s piercing glare. “We, um, we’re supposed to begin walkthroughs as mock visitors.”

“Oh,” Alex said, absolutely relieved. “Professor, would you like me to finish before I go?” They had barely finished one wall. The room was so massive Alex doubted it would be coated in time.

Duvall was mumbling words under her breath, words that made no sense. “No, dear. I’ve got it under control.”

“Okay,” Alex said, backing away slowly. She followed Calla toward the front foyer of the mansion, but halfway there, she realized she had left the paint roller but accidently taken the brush. She darted back down the narrow hallway.

Alex reached the ballroom and gripped the side of the door, preparing to deposit the brush quickly and avoid another weird conversation. When she rounded the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks. Duvall had vanished, and in her place, covering every inch of the enormous room, was a thick, dripping layer of gel. How had she finished so quickly?

If the task was so easily accomplished, why had Duvall asked for help? And why had she wasted her time in awkward silence with Alex?

* * *

“Can I show you something cool?”

When Jonas asked, Alex had hesitated, and he didn’t blame her. Her mind probably conjured the image of a childhood Jonas asking her that very same question right before beheading her favorite doll and holding up the head like a trophy. No wonder she seemed wary of what “something cool” might be.

He held out his hand and she eyed it like it was a bear trap. Would he ever release her if she gave him that much? She smiled, of course. Alex was always too polite to reject him completely. She reached out and cupped her hand around his bicep, barely grazing his arm, accepting the invite but not the gesture. That was good enough for Jonas. He took what he could get.

He debated whether or not to share this place with her. At first, he’d adamantly thought no, but Alex made things difficult. He’d never known how to handle himself around her. Alex was like a sunset on the horizon, beautifully unreal like the fingertips of the world grazing the edges of heaven, and yet painfully unattainable. Something he knew he could never reach, although that didn’t stop him from wanting it.

Since he could remember, he’d searched for hiding places. His brothers took up so much space that he couldn’t always breathe around them. This place he’d found by accident while attempting a detour during one of Van Hanlin’s scripted chasing routes. Among the trees that stretched so high they could, quite possibly, be gateways to eternity, one tree was different from all the others. It had thick leaves like a giant’s teardrops and branches that swayed without wind. Short and stout, it was blatantly out of place, overshadowed by its surroundings, kind of like Jonas.

Alex followed him beneath the protection of the tree and sat down. “What did you want to show me?”

“You’ll hear it before you see it.”

She cocked her head, listening for something. “Hear what?”

“Wait a few minutes.”

Alex folded her tiny hands in her lap.

He shifted his eyes as far as he could to look at her without turning his head. He wanted so badly to reach out and grab her hand.

“Where do you go when your brothers are around?” she asked out of the blue.

“What do you mean?”

“You aren’t you.”

Perhaps she sniffed out his vulnerability here. Jonas knew very well that the sullen person he became in the presence of his brothers was the type of person Alex became without them. “Where do you go when they’re not around?”

“Point taken,” she said.

He held her gaze longer than he was allowed. Her oversized eyes matched the dusk, whatever shade of blue was left to survive alone without the light from the sun. It was a bittersweet color. Like the ending of something good.

“In all seriousness,” Alex pressed him. “You sneak off a lot. I think maybe I’m the only one who notices.”

She noticed when he wasn’t around? Something inside of him fluttered. He’d missed that feeling. Optimism. “You aren’t the only one, believe me. My brothers have never really trusted me. Without Chase to babysit, they’ve been watching me like a hawk.”

“Why?”

Who would they ridicule without him? They couldn’t possibly turn on each other. “Who knows? Boredom?”

“Do they have a reason to be concerned?”

Jonas wondered if he should tell her about his little secret. He always seemed to get himself into messy situations. It wasn’t a reason for concern but rather something he was proud of, an opportunity, but it was also something he was supposed to keep to himself. Alex made him weak. He would tell her everything if it meant he could keep her.

Kaleb was the leader; Gabe was the genius; Chase was the heartthrob. He’d never voice it aloud, but he was dreading Chase’s return. Charm filled the air when just Kaleb and Gabe were around, but when Chase returned, it would spill over, and he’d be forced to wade through the weight at his ankles. It was tiring to keep up with them. And who was he if he didn’t maintain his own role?

“No,” he finally replied. “They don’t have a reason for concern. But if they didn’t assume I was up to no good, something would be wrong.”

“What do they think you’re up to?”

He grinned mischievously. “You.”

“Ah,” Alex sighed. “You’re using me to get under their skin.”

Of course she wouldn’t take it seriously. He began to respond, but stopped when the air around them began to ripple. “Here they come.”

“Who?”

He lifted a finger to his lips, and within seconds, there came a palpitation so intense the world seemed to tremble. “This is what I’ve been waiting to show you.”

Hundreds of butterflies swarmed the tree. “Why are they here?”

“Maybe they just like the tree, but I’ve been here three times now when it’s happened.” Jonas liked to think they flocked to this tree in particular because it was different. It was proof that bigger wasn’t always better.

“It’s like magic.”

He was pleased to find her so in awe. He’d known she’d appreciate this. The butterflies were all different sizes, all different colors, a Monet painting blotching the world. With a whispering whoosh, the tree shifted its branches in a ticklish shudder. He watched Alex reach out her arm. The first butterfly to land on her was black and blue, proving a bruise could be beautiful, as though it knew how her life had been.

“Ever heard of the butterfly effect?” he asked. “If the wings of one butterfly can alter the path of a storm … ” He waved at the scene around them. “Imagine what this could do.”

He liked the idea that something so trivial, so small, could have such a big effect. It gave him hope that with even the slightest imbalance, the weight of the world, and maybe even the fate of the world, could be shifted.

Then maybe he’d stand a chance.

17

On October first, the last-minute preparations for the Moribund Mansion of Morgues had turned into such frenzy that the manor itself had actually begun to hum like the steady buzz of a beehive. That evening, Duvall partnered Alex with Skye and gave them a bucket the size of a baby pool filled with giant spools of what seemed like thick white yarn. She ordered them to decorate every nook and cranny of the house with fake “spider webs,” a task that proved to be extremely tricky because Duvall had invented the substance, and when the threads broke, they regenerated.

Skye ended up in the doorway of the billiard room, swaddled by the adhesive. Duvall drifted past and paused to commend Skye for being so creative. “Next year,” she cackled, “we should assign spirits to be stuck in the webs, screaming for help!”

There seemed to be a competition among the teachers to outdo one another with fresh ideas for the mansion. Strobe lights, mirrors, and fake murders would only get you so far, Van Hanlin had said.

“Alex Ash!” Duvall snapped her fingers. “Remove your friend before the webs go down her throat. That would be extremely uncomfortable for her.”

“Technically, her throat doesn’t exist anymore, right?” Madison asked from across the room.

“No, it doesn’t exist, but she hasn’t been dead long enough to believe that. She’d feel the pain of it.”

It took Alex nearly an hour to extract Skye from the heart of the web without breaking any of the threads. “Thanks,” Skye chirped once her face was freed. “I bet this is the stuff we diagrammed in Duvall’s ABC class the other day.”

The diagram had been excruciatingly difficult even with accelerated brainpower. Alex was grateful that Jack had been her partner. The compound was a mixture of dozens of elements, many of which the physical world had yet to discover. Duvall’s periodic chart was nearly two times the size of the one Alex had used for chemistry when she was alive.

Alex struggled to disentangle the rest of Skye and finally freed her arms. “I wonder if it’s the same goop Duvall used in the ballroom. Rhodo gel, or whatever it’s called, was even stickier.”

“Rhodo gel?” Skye asked in surprise. “That’s what she wanted it for? The ballroom?”

Alex examined what was left to unravel. “Yeah.”

“I was there when Duvall started to prep the ingredients in her test tubes. It seemed like a pain to make, so I thought she had a more significant purpose for it. Amid a million other ingredients it has peppermint, ginkgo, basil, rosemary, and of course rhodiola.” She spun her hands in circles around her head. “All that cleansing stuff.”

“What would she need to cleanse?”

“Good question. Rhodo gel is supposed to make someone understand things that aren’t clear to them. Why would she use something so complicated to gloop a bunch of walls when she could have just used this?” Skye kicked the baby pool of webs.

“Maybe to help the guests get out of the ballroom?”

“Maybe.” Skye lifted a finger to her chin thoughtfully. A thick thread of web broke off from around her elbow and twisted its way around her torso like a vine. “Damn,” she murmured.

Alex began to unwind it, twirling Skye around like they were partners on a dance floor. The released threads clung to Alex like static. “This is probably the sort of thing they do at couples counseling retreats.”

“I doubt they have witches there to spin webs.”

“So Duvall really is a witch?”

“Of course. You have to understand that the word witch merely means someone who is gifted,” Skye picked at her fingers. “What? Why are you looking at me that way?”

“You say it so nonchalantly.”

“Say what?”

Alex glanced around nervously as the taboo reached her tongue. “Witches,” she said in a low voice.

“How else would I say it?” Skye let out a tiny laugh. “And you don’t have to whisper. Why do you think—Oh.” She paused, her smile fading. “You sit with the Bonds during Duvall’s class, don’t you?”

“So?” Alex was defensive. She didn’t understand why everyone felt the need to pick on them.

Skye snorted. “The typical Bond thing to do. They’ve infected your pretty little head already. I thought under all that hair you had more sense.”

Alex self-consciously spun her hair around her finger. “Why would that be typical?”

“Multigenerational spirits stick to their stereotypes. Everyone knows that Gossamers”—she pointed her thumb to her chest and winked—“are always captivating. Darwins are always aggressive. And Bonds are always cursed.” Skye plopped down on the floor with her long legs blocking the hallway. “They really haven’t told you anything?”

Alex shook her head.

“I guess that’s the smart thing to do. Before they were known for being cursed, they were known for being manipulative. I’m not sure which is worse. They wouldn’t want to scare you away, but you have a right to know who the Bonds really are.”

Alex crouched down next to her. “What do you mean by cursed?”

“Once, the Bond family was well regarded around here, but they pissed off the wrong gifted coven and now they’re doomed to remain at the bottom of the food chain.”

“What did they do?”

“Who knows? It must have been something pretty bad, though.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I’m a Gossamer. My family has been around for a while.” She grinned. “And we’re pretty good at getting what we want. Information included.”

“Right.” Alex murmured. “So people are afraid to be around them because the curse might spread? Are you afraid to be around them?”

“Yes and no. I understand why they do the things they do. I don’t think they’re bad people.”

“But you hang out with the Darwins,” Alex argued.

“I can’t change the fact that I’m a legacy. Not to mention the Darwins also have justification for their behaviors. Half of their family died in the Witch Wars compliments of the Bond family.” Skye shifted her legs when several spirits trumped by, sliding their hands along the wall and leaving trails of blood. More spirits followed, ripping dry wall, chipping paint, and depositing tattered objects along the hallway floor. Even though Skye was blatantly in the way, they smiled at her. One even thanked her for no reason, and she chuckled. “Anyway, I’d be careful if I were you. The Bonds will do anything to get ahead. They’ve been that way for a long time now. They’re like quicksand, and they’ll pull you down fast.”

A whistle sounded, indicating that they should report to their stations. Alex hadn’t even noticed that the air outside had dimmed in the approaching dusk. The first guests would be arriving soon.

“This is exciting!” Skye exclaimed. Evidently the previous conversation was over. Any trace of seriousness vanished from her face as she pointed to the sky. “The clouds are moving in circles tonight, and that means everything will go routinely.”

Alex didn’t know what it was about Skye that made her believe she was right. She picked up her bucket and followed the strange girl into the utility shed. Alex shoved the leftover webs under a counter, disturbing a thick layer of dust, which puffed into the air like flour in a bakery. “This place is filthy.”

“The dust is there on purpose. It helps the bodied to see us.”

“Oh.” Alex lifted her hand to examine the dust that stuck to it. “They wouldn’t be able to see us without it?”

“They could because we want them to, and technically they are searching for us without knowing it. The dust is there just in case. It’s another one of Duvall’s concoctions. Make sure you don’t have any of that dust on you now, though, since you’re supposed to be invisible. Here, wipe it on me, since I have to chase them.” Skye lifted a chainsaw from the workbench.

“If I were bodied, I probably would have run away from this place, screaming.”

“Oh, that’s the point though.”

“I know. I just mean—”

“But each guest does have to sign a waiver. Don’t worry,” Skye said, smiling at Alex’s alarm. She held up her chainsaw. “The blade is gone. It’s the people with certain medical conditions who are advised not to enter.”

This precaution seemed a little extreme to Alex, but once she saw the reactions of the guests, she understood. When the guests stepped out from the back door of the manor, their faces were completely drained of color, even before the chainsaws or daggers were raised. Some even came out sobbing.

At a quarter to one, Alex stretched wearily. The hordes of terrified visitors had slowed. Skye said this was good because the clouds were no longer moving, whatever that was supposed to mean. Alex yearned to go home and sleep so she could see and hear Chase again.

“The next wave is coming out,” Skye warned, gesturing with a machete and yawning. She looked like Rambo Barbie. Reuben had direly wanted the chainsaw, so she’d swapped with him hours ago.

The door creaked open, and four more guests exited. “Oh, thank God,” a boy said.

A girl heaved before bending down to comfort a whimpering friend. “It’s over!”

Alex heard Skye cluck her tongue in sympathy before she concealed her beautiful face with a morbid mask and stepped out of the shadows, lifting the knife to her own throat and pretending to slash her neck. The group of guests backed up slowly and collided with Reuben, who revved the engine of his chainsaw. For the hundredth time that night, the grounds were filtered with ear-splitting screams. But this group didn’t follow the unscripted plan. Three of the kids bolted straight ahead, exactly where they were supposed to go, but the whimpering girl veered to the left and disappeared into the trees.

No, no, no, Alex thought. There was no one else left to go after the girl. She hesitated, willing Jonas, someone, to appear so she wouldn’t have to go alone. But she had no choice.

The girl was fast. Alex kept pace easily, perhaps because she no longer needed to breathe. She just needed to concentrate on following the girl. When they scampered past the butterfly tree, Alex realized how far they’d gone. Fabulous, now they were both going to get lost.

It wasn’t until they reached a clearing and the moon provided some light that the girl finally stopped and keeled over with her hands on her knees, gasping violently. Alex was so irritated she considered smacking the girl. She strained to listen for any sounds to indicate how they might find their way back to the mansion. The droning of the chainsaw erupted far off in the distance, and despite the girl’s heavy breathing, Alex heard a series of raspy whispers, each overlapping the last. She shook the voice box in her hand, wondering if it was somehow having an effect on her. The Voix stone rattled inside the cube, but the whispers neither shook nor ceased. She thought about what Van Hanlin had taught her in Intro about searching to find the visibility of sound, and then the trajectory would lead to the source. She studied the night air, and from the center of the field sparks of calligraphic letters escaped into the night, dissolving and quieting once the world broke them apart. She slowly crept close enough to find a black chest the size of a shoebox nestled in the overgrown grass.

This had to be a joke.

She waited, thinking someone might jump out and claim the babbling box, but her senses could only catch the chattering teeth of the runaway girl. In the distance she heard a faint buzz of energy, like the humming of electricity. Across the field, the runaway raked trembling fingers through her disheveled hair.

What’s the matter? The voice was comforting, like the familiar beats of her favorite song.

“Chase?” she called out before remembering he wasn’t there. This was not a dream. Chase, she thought in her head.

Alex. Are you okay?

She wasn’t dreaming—at least she didn’t think she was, so how could she hear him?

The buzzing returned. This time, it was no more than a few yards away. Whatever it was, it was fast. Her intuition slapped her with fear.

Jonas appeared so quickly that Alex was in his arms before she even realized he was there. He cradled her tightly like someone, or something, was about to rip her from his grasp.

“How—”

He breathed panic into her ear. “Don’t make a sound.”

Someone emerged from the dark protection of the woods and floated noiselessly into the clearing. When the moonlight illuminated his features, Alex swallowed the terror that clawed its way up her throat.

“Don’t scream,” Jonas commanded, tightening his grip.

In the glow of the moon, the carcass of the man seemed faded like an old photo. His pasty hair hung lifelessly, stringy and wet, draped over his face. He came to a stop directly behind the lost girl. She shivered, sensing the danger she couldn’t see.

He slowly moved around the girl, watching her with sunken eyes. Then, he turned abruptly to focus on Alex and Jonas. Both pupil and iris were coal-black, and framed by webs of crimson mazes spiraling demonically. For the first time since she’d died, Alex wished for her human eyes, which could not have seen this man. Could she even call him a spirit?

Jonas clutched his fingers around Alex’s chin, pulling her face to his. His eyes locked into hers. “Don’t look at him. Look at me. Are you listening?”

She nodded. She wouldn’t dare open her mouth to allow the scream to escape.

“When I say the word, you run. As fast as you can,” he ordered. “Don’t stop.”

The “you” stung Alex, setting her voice free. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to distract him.”

There came a loud zap. Alex snapped her attention back to the man. His body shook violently, traveling towards them, convulsing in its electrocution, his stringy hair whiplashing his face.

Jonas flung Alex behind him and began to run forward.

“No!” Alex thrust out her arms and shoved the air in opposite directions, separating Jonas from that monster. The force of it pushed into the ground and rose, curling into two waves, knocking Jonas to one edge of the clearing and the demon to the other.

She swatted away the dirt kicking up in her face, in time to see the heap of a man straighten. He rushed forward, writhing, opening his lips, baring his gray teeth. From his mouth spewed a bloodcurdling screech.

The shrillness of the wail sent shocks through Alex’s head. She fell to her knees and couldn’t stop herself from screaming out in agony.

Alex! Chase resounded in her mind.

The word dulled the screech only slightly before the pain sliced her head again. The scream was alive, tearing into her scalp, scooping out pieces of her mind, and stabbing her soul. She was going to die here, she realized. Without Chase. But the pain was so intense, she didn’t care. She just wanted it to end.

Alex? Chase’s words were strained now. Where did you go? Alex!

She gasped. With each word, the scream became more hollow and distant. She needed to form a word in her thoughts, but it seemed impossible. How could she think? How could she talk? She couldn’t remember how.

Alex, don’t listen to it. Talk to me. How was his voice so strong? He was always so much stronger than she was. SPEAK! he commanded, but she couldn’t think through the mind-numbing pain. Then she thought of the one word she could say even if she did lose her mind. The most beautiful word in the world.

Chase.

He was urgent now. Talk to me.

She tried, but she had no words, no thoughts.

Come on, Alex.

Chase. It was all she could say, and it wasn’t enough. She could feel the whipping threads of the demon’s hair, and smell the stench of his breath as he wrapped his body around her.

Her mind snapped shut.

18

It was like a blackout, except everything turned gray. Alex blinked her eyes several times, but a sheet of ice blocked her vision. It surrounded her, constricting her movements, forcing her to keep her palms pressed against the glacial coffin. The numbness began in her fingers and toes and spread throughout the rest of her.

The unbearable ache gave her the sudden urge to scream, and writhe, and fight, until a figure appeared on the other side of the ice. It was impossible to see who it was, but they placed their hands over hers, and Alex began to feel the tingles of warmth—of life—in her fingers. She heard a crunch as the ice cracked.

BOOM! An explosion resonated from the depths of the ground. The grayness disappeared, and she found herself back in the field.

A dozen figures appeared and positioned themselves equally around the perimeter of the clearing. A small girl with the definition of an Olympic gymnast broke ranks and twirled through the air, sending strikes of energy to lash the screaming demon. She spun gracefully but viciously, kicking one foot in the direction of the spirit’s deranged face. There was no impact, but the force generated a loud smack. The other foot followed, knocking the screaming man to his knees. She swung her arms, chopping the wail with an invisible sword. The pieces of it turned to jagged sparks, charring the night. The man collapsed further, breathing heavily, and glaring up at the girl who stood defiantly with her hands extended.

A uniformed man stepped forward. Like the rest of the spirits who had appeared, he was dressed in combat attire. Everything about him was pristine, except for his hair, which stuck out at awkward angles. “Let’s hurry up and get rid of it.” He turned to Alex, still on the ground, gasping for air she didn’t need. She wrapped her arms protectively around herself to block the chill, but her teeth chattered uncontrollably.

The army flinched when Alex tried to stand. They were poised for fight, although why they would choose Alex as the target, she didn’t know. The man that seemed to be in charge remained hunched in anticipation.

Professor Van Hanlin suddenly emerged from the trees with his hands in the air. “Stop!” he shouted. “She’s one of ours!”

Some of the guards turned to salute.

“Officer!” one of them greeted him.

“Don’t break ranks,” the messy-haired guard commanded.

“You don’t need to fear her,” Van Hanlin said.

“She was exposed to the scream for nearly an entire minute!”

A minute! It had only been a minute?

“Did you not hear the banshee scream?”

Banshee.

“And yet they both stand here unscathed, civilized still.”

“Both?”

Van Hanlin threw out an arm in the direction of Jonas, who was still crumbled at the outskirts of the clearing.

“Impossible,” the same guard spat. “She was right in front of it!”

The guard in charge gave Van Hanlin a stiff nod. “Who is she?”

“They are children.”

“It’s impossible for an untrained child to withstand the direct shriek of a banshee for so long.”

Van Hanlin raised his palms in bewilderment. “I cannot explain what I didn’t see. You were the ones to swoop in on the scene.”

The guards continued to drift forward, slowly melting into the space between themselves and Alex, confining her.

“You don’t know who she is,” Van Hanlin said. He didn’t try to disguise the awe in his voice. “You saved her, Federive.”

Alex’s mind shifted through its contents featuring a bronze plate on the wall of the Brigitta hallway. Kender Federive, Service General.

Kender Federive’s long ponytail rippled behind her like a superhero’s cape. “What do you mean, who she is?”

A booming voice suddenly erupted from the shadows. “I’m afraid this is my fault.”

A thick man clamored into the clearing. It was the brute whom Alex had seen on her first day driving out the lure birds, the one pictured in the tableau of the city. Why were all these people here? And where was everyone two minutes ago when she needed them?

“Westfall!” Van Hanlin exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

The members of the guard buzzed with interest.

Westfall gazed at Van Hanlin in contempt and leaned toward the girl who had crippled the banshee. “Lieutenant Federive warned me about the sightings of banshees close to town. The Patrol was stationed here.”

“Why weren’t we warned?” Van Hanlin demanded.

“Certain staff members were warned. Why do you think I’m here?”

Van Hanlin threw his hands in the air. “How about warning the professors who had newburies in the woods?”

“You don’t have the best track record.”

He pointed at the guards. “I used to be one of you, for goodness’ sake! I led your patrol!”

The messy-haired leader took a step closer. “A newbury angered the banshee?”

“Knocked it clear on its head.” Jonas ambled over to Alex. With him next to her, Alex finally felt comfortable enough to stand up straight.

Some members of the Patrol crept closer to her cautiously, still trying to get a better look. The closest guard elbowed the guy next to him and pointed at Alex. “Do you see what I see?” he murmured.

“You should educate your newburies on the dangers of the world before you lead them to open pastures,” the leader said.

“She strayed,” Van Hanlin explained.

“You know all about that, don’t you?” Westfall said.

“Don’t start with me about—”

Westfall cut him off. “Straying is the nature of a child, which is why you are supposed to keep such a tight grasp on the newly buried.”

“No, that was the point of our job,” Jonas called, rising to his feet. “To follow the strays.”

Professor Van Hanlin surveyed the group with worry etched on his face. “Where is the human she followed?”

“She ran off that way,” Alex said, pointing beyond the trees.

“Both of you followed her?”

“I followed Alex,” Jonas answered quickly. “She didn’t know.”

Another member of the guard began to march directly across the clearing. “There’s a spirit lurking in the trees across the way. There, a few yards in.”

How would he know that?

“Who?” Westfall asked.

“I aim to find out,” the guard called over his shoulder.

Westfall took another step towards Alex, but unlike the others, he wasn’t trying to get a closer look at her. He stood at an angle to block her from the patrollers.

The guard reappeared, carrying a portly boy by the cuff of his shirt. Alex squinted to make out the form. “Reuben?”

Reuben Seyferr covered his face with his sausage-like fingers and peeked through at his horror movie of an afterlife. “I heard the banshee scream. I was curious.”

“What are you teaching these kids?” one of the patrolman exclaimed. He looked charily at Van Hanlin, who sputtered, “That’s not my department!”

Some of the guards swayed from side to side like pendulums, trying to catch a better glimpse of Alex. More of them pointed, and others began to whisper.

“The children should come with us,” another member of the Patrol said. “We need to make sure they are okay.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Westfall said. “Take care of the banshee. I can escort the children to the medical center if need be.”

“They should be questioned,” the patrolman argued, trying to smile, but the messy-haired guard held up his hand.

“There was no crime. The banshee should not even have been here. They didn’t know. Besides,” the messy-haired guard added with a glance at Westfall, “the Patrol can’t override an order given by an Ardor Service member.”

Westfall gave Van Hanlin a shove. “Come on. Let’s get these children out of here.”

The patrol turned to leave, stealing glances back at the field, some ogling Westfall, some still trying to peek at Alex.

Westfall ushered all three newburies back in the direction of the mansion with a push that had much more force than necessary. “That was not supposed to happen,” he growled under his breath.

Alex could only wonder what he was referring to. What she wondered more was how this whole scene could play out right in front of that little black box, and no one noticed it sitting there, blatantly out of place, spitting its thoughts at them.

No one had even looked at it.

* * *

The Patrol recommended that the teachers eliminate the woods from the festivities, but the commotion around town was too intense to ignore. Natives and tourists alike were raving about the “closing act” and how the voices were the greatest illusions they had ever experienced. Skye told Alex that in September and October alone, the insignificant town of Moribund typically brought in more tourism than Redwood National Park did year round, and now the number of guests had risen higher than ever.

Thus, Van Hanlin promised to oversee the woods at all times. Not that Alex could have escaped again if she had wanted to, because her peers were so interested in the banshee encounter. Her reputation had quickly morphed from “bench girl” to “banshee girl.” At least that sounded slightly cooler.

But when spirits asked her about what happened, the topic always seemed to shift to Reuben:

“How could he be so stupid?”

“He’s not too bright, that kid!”

“Why didn’t he try to help you?”

“Who actually hears a banshee and then goes to find it?”

And Reuben hid in the corner of the yard, his mouth downturned and his eyes despondently turned away from his hecklers. Alex attempted to comfort him once, but he stood up without a word and walked away.

At the mere sound of the word banshee, Alex could still hear shrill shrieking, and it felt like shards of glass being plucked from her brain.

Van Hanlin ordered her to stay at the manor and “direct” the chasings outside, which was completely pointless and utterly boring. How much direction was needed to follow sporadic groups exiting one door? The Patrol captured the banshee, and it wasn’t like the monster targeted her specifically. She’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time, so she didn’t understand her punishment.

“I don’t think it’s a punishment,” Skye assured her. She’d sought out Alex in order to give her a bouquet of chamomile flowers. Alex didn’t ask why, because she figured she probably wouldn’t understand the explanation anyway. “But people do seem to be a little freaked out by you.”

“Are you?”

“Nah.” Skye flashed a dazzling smile. It nearly glowed in the moonlight. “I don’t scare easily. I do feel badly for you, though, sitting here and twiddling your thumbs. It can’t be stimulating.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Duvall asked me to fetch a dozen buckets and shovels, but I don’t really feel like going all the way to the shed. Are you allowed to do it?”

Alex jumped to her feet. “Probably not, but I’ll do it anyway.”

Skye tilted her head to listen for something. Alex wondered if she could hear the pounding of Alex’s nonexistent heart. She desperately wanted to get back to that clearing.

Thankfully, Joey Rellingsworth poked his head out from the doorway and warned the girls that another group of guests was about to exit the mansion. Skye sighed and tugged her mask from her pocket.

“Take this wave,” Alex suggested, “and I’ll go run and grab the stuff.”

“Are you sure?”

Alex nodded. She couldn’t believe she was doing this alone, but the whispers called to her the moment she stepped away from the mansion. They urged her along through the darkness.

When she reached the field where the chatty box waited, she marched forward and kicked it for causing her so much grief. It slid across the grass like a hockey puck and collided with a tree, spewing its contents onto the ground.

Alex picked up a dilapidated black and white photo of two young boys grinning widely. One was dressed in shabby play clothes. Suspenders held up his loose slacks, overlapping a dirty white smock. The other boy was adorned in wealth. His slicked hair shone brighter than his shoes, and he had removed his suit coat and slung it over the shoulder of his perfectly cuffed dress shirt.

The box brimmed with aged brown envelopes tied together with string. Alex carried it back to the center of the clearing where the glow of the moon could provide a reading light. She extracted a random envelope and slid her fingers underneath the flap, breaking the wax seal etched with a capital E. The brittle paper was decorated in the most artistic handwriting Alex had ever seen.

November 1865

Dear Sephi,

Professor Melbourne is late for the morning session as usual, and I am once again avoiding Paul Bond and his embarrassingly zealous offers to proofread last week’s work. Knowing his family’s defiled history, I’d be likely to fail the assignment if I allow him to touch it. Thus I’m writing you this note to make it seem like I’m immersed enough to disregard him.

I sit here among the mindless prattling, and it’s apparent that plenty of rumors still swirl about your death, even though you’ve been here for several months. The newburies continue to gossip about Ulysses S. Grant, especially the dead soldiers to my left, who claim they knew about your involvement in the war.

The cockroach of a girl who sits in front of me was far too eager to hiss loudly about what had happened to your family. Let me express my condolences. Now I know why you encourage me to conceal my own talents. To think that a person is hunted for having extraordinary gifts! It dishonors your family the way people talk.

Admittedly, I was most annoyed with the uproar of excited hysteria during your arrival. I was insanely jealous that you were stealing all the attention, but that was before I saw you. The moment I caught your gaze, I never wanted to let it go. I felt like I’d known you forever, and you filled a piece of me that I never knew I was missing.

Will you meet me again tonight?

Alex let the paper rest in her lap and it retracted, curling itself back into a protective bud. The recipient of the letter was dead. These were written by a spirit.

Alex snatched the next letter from the stack.

December 1865

Dear Sephi,

It must be difficult to be so well known. Especially as a child. It’s a bit tragic that you can’t simply be left alone. You handle the burden with such humility and patience. It only makes my affection for you stronger.

I’ve put some thought into what you’ve said to me. That you are not encouraged to develop friendships with anyone here. They just want to isolate you; they want your talents for their own. You’ve never been given the chance to make your own decisions. To follow the paths you see before you.

I’ve seen how they try to detach you from the rest of us. Duvall especially. But you also said that despite your efforts to avoid me, you already knew what was going to happen between us. So why do we need to be given the chance to let it develop when it’s already full grown? Let’s skip the beginning.

Here’s to backwards thinking.

Yours,

Eviar

December 1865

Dear Sephi,

I caught her staring again, sneering at me in revulsion like vermin infesting her classroom. I sat oblivious in class, without the faintest notion of why there were shivers creeping down my spine, and then I realized the witch held me in her gaze. Perhaps she sacrificed a goat and drained the blood of a virgin to coax the devil into revealing her foes. Thus I have more respect for the slugs she adds to her potions. The school can label it “alchemy,” but “witchcraft” is more like it. I hate that you allow her to have so much influence over you.

Alex was more than intrigued. Duvall! The Bond family! All from over a century ago. Alex lowered her gaze to another sheet of yellowed paper.

January 1866

Dear Sephi,

I hate to admit weakness, but you have completely taken over my mind. I swear on my soul that every inch of my desire belongs to you. Even if I tried to change it, to deny it, I cannot envision a future without you in it.

I understand that you are apprehensive, and with good reason. You have never been allowed happiness. You are feared in death more than you were feared in life. But I promise that I will always be the one to protect you. We just need to find where we belong. A large city may not be the most favorable. Perhaps a smaller one like Vorbild or Paradise.

Ev

Paradise. Where had Alex heard that before? Her brain began to shuffle through its filed memories, and finally an image remained. Her psychology classroom, but she hadn’t a clue why.

There was something about these letters that was completely consuming. They called to her like a siren song. Alex reasoned that it shouldn’t matter if she took them with her. Beyond doubt, the box wanted her to find it, and if everything she’d heard about visibility was true, some part of her must have been looking for the box if she could see it when no one else could.

She felt it no crime when she stood up and tucked the box securely under her arm and made her way back to the lights of the manor. Oddly enough, during the journey back through the trees, she felt an iambic pulse, as though the box had a heartbeat.

19

March 1866

Dear Sephi,

I will admit to only you how much I miss home. I vividly remember my father’s intense eyes and the warmth I felt when I was around him because I adored him so. His words had such eloquence that everything and everyone around him fell silent the moment he parted his lips to speak. I have memories of curiously peeking into our study, which was filled with the clinking of ice in liquor glasses. This was where my father typically presided over a meeting of the most esteemed gentlemen in a town he himself founded. He would smile at me over the misty swirl of cigar smoke.

I pray that I may always recall the pride with which my parents gazed upon me. I wish you could have known them. I can only hope the death of their only son did not destroy them.

Gideon brings me comfort. I know you are wary of his sense of humor, but he has been my companion since I can remember. His mother worked in our kitchen, and every opportunity I could muster was spent with him, scrounging some sort of a childhood among incessant lessons to become high society royalty. One day, I will go back to retrieve the only picture I had of us. We have shared so much, including the unfortunate illness that led us here together. I am thankful to have something about my past to hold on to. I think I need to be reminded of myself. Unfortunately he has befriended one of those obnoxious DeLyre brothers. Ben DeLyre is not quite so much of a nob as the others, but he seems to share Gideon’s immaturity and inclination to trickery and cabbaging. Regretfully, their alliance will make the Darwins less prone to assisting me in finding my ancestry because the Darwins and DeLyres continue to clash.

They must know something. I wouldn’t be able to do the things I can do if my family history was not extensive.

Yours,

Eviar

“Alex?”

She snapped back to reality.

“Are you all right?” Gabe asked.

“Oh. Yeah.”

“You’re really into that homework, aren’t you?”

She gave him a sheepish grin, stuffing the letter she’d been reading under her ABC textbook. It had become routine for Alex to spend her evenings outside at the ballparks. She would have been perfectly content to lounge all evening in the warm Brigitta vestibule, but the Lasalles preferred the fields, and she preferred to be wherever they were. She clutched to whatever pieces of Chase she could.

That night, something felt different. A good sort of different. Though she’d grown accustomed to her newly sharpened senses, Alex couldn’t quite trust the scent of hope gripping the coattails of the night.

“I’m sorry. What were you saying?” she asked, folding the letters.

He tilted his head towards the field in front of them. “I asked if you saw that play.”

“Oh,” Alex muttered. “No.”

There came a commotion at the foot of the stands, and Gabe ducked behind his book, cursing under his breath.

“What’s wrong?”

Gabe peered around the side of his book. “Romey’s coming. I missed front desk detention this morning because I was helping Jonas.”

“With what?”

Gabe shushed her and tried to crouch further behind his text. Like anyone would actually mistake his blonde curls for someone else’s.

Romey came to a stop beside them. “Hello, you two.”

Alex smiled. She liked Romey and the visible softness surrounding her, smoothing the roughness of the world wherever she went. “Is everything okay?”

“It would probably be better if I hadn’t been pulled from a directors’ meeting this morning to babysit an unattended desk that I’d already staffed weeks ago.”

“Sorry, Romey,” Gabe mumbled from behind his book-cover shield.

Romey didn’t seem to accept his apology. “You have double duty at front desk tomorrow night. Be there at 6:00 p.m. sharp.”

Gabe groaned.

“Like I said, double duty. And the next time you decide to blow off an obligation, give me a heads up or your punishment will be much more severe.” Romey ambled away, excusing herself because she was due to supervise the fields.

Right at that moment, Alex felt a marvelous jolt of anticipation. It was the kind of feeling one experiences on only a handful of occasions in a lifetime. Like a first kiss or a last dance. The kind that one wants to relive over and over, even if the memory is less satisfying than the real experience.

She knew Chase had arrived before she even saw him.

Each of the Lasalles was mesmerizing in his own way. People were always drawn to them, hypnotized by the melody of their movements. Chase happened to be the worst of them. All he had to do was turn his eyes on someone and they were smitten. And watching him walk out onto the field, Alex knew she had been wrong about the beauty of this world, the colors, the buildings— to rank them the way she had—because Chase himself was without a doubt the most beautiful thing her eyes had ever seen.

He must have felt her too, because he stopped midstep to scan the valley until he found her face. He stood dumbstruck, with one hand over his mouth in disbelief and the other hand clutching a bag that dangled closely to the ground.

He was even more stunning in death. Alex would never have imagined this could be possible. His blue eyes filled the air between them, the vibrancy of their color somehow more brilliant than any of the palettes she’d seen yet as a spirit. They flooded Alex’s sight, tinting her world a stunning hue until he blinked and lowered his hand. His lips parted and soundlessly mouthed her name.

Alex couldn’t catch her breath, not that she needed it anymore. She only noticed the discomfort because her chest began to heave and air ripped through her lungs in sharp gasps. As she said his name, it wasn’t accompanied with a taste of loss and suffering for the first time in so long. Instead, it contained the simplicity of recognition, of happiness. It tasted wonderful.

The moment was not lost on Gabe, who glanced from Alex to Chase and back to Alex, sighing loudly. Down on the field, Jonas crossed his arms and stared at his brother, who didn’t divert his eyes from Alex even when a ball clocked him right on the crown of his head.

Gabe wrung his hands as Chase greeted Romey, who hugged him tightly, like a son. It appeared she was trying to be firm with him, but her warm, maternal mannerisms interfered. Although she shook a reprimanding finger with one hand, she reached up with the other to smooth out a stray piece of his hair.

Every few moments, Chase found Alex in the stands and when his eyes met hers, the world seemed to stop, and his face would break into an iridescent smile.

“I’m really not used to that,” Gabe said quietly.

“What?”

“I’d forgotten that Chase could smile.” The spectators around them erupted in response to a play Alex didn’t care to see. “Will you do me a favor? You of all people know how Jonas can be. Don’t go off riding into the sunset kicking dirt in his face just yet.”

“What?”

“You know exactly what I mean,” Gabe said, intercepting another of Chase’s smiles to Alex.

“Chase is my best friend,” she replied softly, feeling heat in her cheeks. But the flame was obvious, and no amount of watering down her words would extinguish it.

“In the grander scheme of things, this isn’t about you. Jonas resents us. Me. Kaleb. Chase.” He hugged his book against his chest. “I don’t want him to think that Chase has stolen something from him. I don’t want it to get any worse.”

“Why would he think that?” She recognized the foolishness of her question. Jonas was territorial and spiteful, and she knew she’d allowed him to get a little too close.

“I guess I didn’t really know the extent of it until about two minutes ago when Chase looked at you the way he did. And then the way Jonas looked at Chase.” He turned away to watch the field again. “But I’ll speak to him. Do you think you can just keep things under wraps for a little while? Jonas is pretty mercurial. With any luck, he’ll be preoccupied with something else soon enough.”

“Under wraps? What do you think is going to happen?”

She could not stop herself from smiling merely considering the possibilities.

* * *

In the final few months of Alex’s life, it had been nearly impossible to distinguish reality from the illusions her mind created. This was the reason she started “cheeking” her pills at the Eskers. Yes, she longed to hear the whispers of Chase’s voice in her head, but how could she know that they were real? The pills they forced down her throat distorted her world into a gray Salvador Dali painting, and she didn’t want to forget the last time she’d seen Chase alive. That night, for certain, she knew had been real.

It was all because of a dance. She’d been to many before. The dresses, the drama, the partying—this one changed everything. Chase had jumped out from the limo and walked toward Alex like Prince Charming himself. Too bad he wasn’t her date.

“Jonas better stand next to you all night,” he advised.

“Where is Jonas?” Alex asked, but when she slid into the car, she smelled the reek of alcohol right away.

“There’s my pity date,” Jonas laughed. Alex was unsure of who the pity party was in this case. He’d asked her to go with him because he wanted to win back his ex-girlfriend, and he said Alex wouldn’t make her jealous. He opened his suit coat to reveal a flask. “Want some?”

“No.”

“I do!” Posey Freebelanger shimmied her way onto Chase’s lap. She’d bombarded him in the hallway after the word spread that Jonas was taking Alex to homecoming. Posey had pined for Chase for years, and when she jumped at the opportunity, Chase was far too polite to let her fall from cloud nine.

“Hey, Posey,” Alex said through her teeth.

“Our boys look nice, don’t they?” she said, taking a sip from the flask and scrunching her face. Her eyes filled with tears as though the alcohol was leaking right out of her.

Our boys? Alex didn’t like to share them, and if Posey truly knew them, she would realize that their fancy get-ups wouldn’t last for long. As soon as Jonas and Chase sauntered through the front door past the teachers, jackets came off, ties were loosened, and sleeves were rolled up. The boys in the room stared enviously, and the girls reapplied their makeup, inadvertently inching closer to the Lasalles like water to the pull of the moon. They would wiggle their hips on the dance floor to push their way to the closest brother. Liv Frank was the only one candid enough to comment, giving each of the other girls a snotty onceover.

“These girls look like they charge by the hour,” she said, loud enough for them to hear.

The girl closest to Alex angrily pursed her crimson lips, which were as red as her dress, but before she could retaliate, Liv beat her to the punch. “Wait, that’s mean.” Liv gestured to the girl’s attire. “A prostitute wouldn’t even wear that.” The girl stalked off, and Liv grinned deviously. “You’re welcome, Al.”

“For what? You didn’t get the girl away from my date.”

“Of course not,” she said with a knowing glance. “I got her away from Chase. I was hoping she’d make a comment about my plus size dress so I could belly bop her off the dance floor.”

The music slowed, and Chase extended his arm, pointing to Alex from across the circle. He grinned and made his way to her.

She allowed herself to fall into him, and allowed herself to inhale the fresh scent of his crisp, white shirt. She closed her eyes and pretended for a moment that he was truly hers.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“You look handsome.”

“Nothing compared to you. Every guy in this room is trying to sneak a peek at you.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Okay, don’t believe me. I feel like I should be blocking you right here.” He flattened his hands against her back, and Alex felt her body soften underneath him. “Or actually maybe here.” He lowered his hands. “Since that’s where everyone is looking anyway.”

She smacked his arm. “Shut up. I look like a ten-year-old.”

“You’ll never believe me, will you?”

Alex decided to change the subject. “Where is Jonas?”

“Taking shots in the bathroom with my date. He’d never get away with acting like this if Kaleb and Gabe were here.”

Alex wondered whether to blame Chase’s chagrin on his date leaving him, of Jonas being responsible, or of Alex questioning Jonas’s whereabouts. Maybe all of the above. They swayed to the sappy music for a few moments before Alex pulled back to examine him, wondering if studying his face might reveal his true thoughts.

He stared right back at her, and just when she thought he couldn’t be any more gorgeous, his attempt to be serious failed, and his smile illuminated the room like a burst of sunlight. “What did I ever do to be lucky enough to have you look at me like that?”

Funny. She’d been thinking the same thing about him.

“I can’t describe it.” He twirled her hair around his fingers. “Words wouldn’t do it justice. There usually aren’t words to describe you, Lex.”

She marveled at the irony of this beautiful boy saying these things to her. “Why are you saying this now?”

He spun her around effortlessly and then gently lifted her arms to place them back around his neck. “Because the feeling I get when I see you is kind of like riding on a rollercoaster. It’s just a small dip in my stomach, but the adrenaline is enough to make me wonder.”

“Wonder?”

“If I never really knew how to interpret you at all.”

Then why don’t you love me? she wanted to scream.

She didn’t get the chance, because their dates returned, stumbling into the crowd together, and Alex spent the rest of her evening trying to hide Jonas from the chaperones. Babysitting him was exhausting, and she was relieved when the dance finally ended.

The limo took them home to meet up with Kaleb and Gabe, who had returned from college to watch their brothers play in the homecoming game. They planned to drive to the after-party across town. Alex had packed a change of clothes so she wouldn’t need to go into her house and tiptoe past her father. Good thing because Jonas decided to vomit all over her driveway.

“At least he held it until you got home,” Gabe said. “The limo driver would have charged extra if he got it in the car, and Mom would have really loved that.”

Chase eyed the clothes in Alex’s hand. “Go use my room.”

“Don’t you need to change too?”

“Yeah, but I’ll wait.”

“You’ve seen me change before, Chase.”

He swept his arm up and down. “Not when you were wearing that.”

Alex crept into the house and up the stairs, hoping she wouldn’t wake up Danya and David. She figured if their son’s violent puking wasn’t enough to disturb them, she should be safe, but just in case, she didn’t shut the door all the way, knowing it sometimes jammed.

Unlike his brothers’ rooms, which were shrines to their accomplishments, bedecked with trophies, titles, and crowns, Chase’s room was a shrine to everything he loved. His awards puddled in the corner, while his walls displayed team photos, family pictures, banners from pro sports games, and tickets from concerts. Alex allowed her eyes to linger on a photo of them on his desk. His arm was slung around her, and they smiled so widely that their noses scrunched and their eyes squinted shut. Neither of them had front teeth.

She focused on the picture so intently, she didn’t notice Chase standing in the doorway until his soft voice startled her.

“I wondered what was taking you so long,” he said, glancing over his shoulder to be sure his parents weren’t approaching.

Liar, she thought while Chase stepped into the room. She’d barely been there for two minutes.

Alex flicked her chin toward the window. “What’s going on out there?”

“More like what’s going out.” He stuck out his tongue in disgust.

“Serves him right. Do you want me to go change in the bathroom?”

“Nah.” He shook his head, grabbing a pair of shorts from a basket of clean laundry. He reached down and began to unbutton his shirt.

“Chase … ” she warned him.

He laughed and finished changing. Alex waited for him to leave the room, but instead, he took a seat on his desk.

“Here.” He motioned for her to spin around.

Her stomach fluttered, but she did as she was told. She backed up against him, placing her hands gently on his knees, which were on either side of her. His breath tickled her neck and sent chills throughout her body. He touched her right shoulder and gently removed a strap, allowing his fingers to touch her skin longer than was necessary. He held up the right side of her dress and used the other hand to remove the remaining strap.

“Now what?” Alex breathed.

“Huh?”

“Well, you’re holding up my dress, but my clothes are over there on your bed.”

“You’re going to kill me,” he said in a hushed voice.

Alex inadvertently lifted her arms at the same time he did, and her dress fell to the ground in a pretty blue heap. She heard Chase draw in his breath before she spun around. When she did, she was surprised to find that with all he could be staring at, his blue eyes were focused on her lips. Her head was spinning like a roulette wheel, and she wondered if they would finally take this gamble.

He lifted one hand and brushed his fingers over her cheek. Then he lifted the other one and held her face in his hands gently. He bit his lower lip and leaned in towards her, only to press his forehead against hers and sigh in exasperation.

She didn’t have the courage to look at him. She ran her palms up his shirt until they reached his neck. Wrapping her arms around him and holding the base of his head, she raked her fingers through the threads of his hair.

When he first moved his hands down her back, his touch was so light that his fingertips barely grazed her shoulder blades, but when they ventured back up, he seemed to give in to it all. He pulled her even closer, touching the skin that electrified against him. He must have opened his eyes then, because she felt his eyelashes tickle her brow.

She didn’t know what would have happened if a loud cough hadn’t erupted from outside the window. It was followed by a stomach-churning splat, so she determined the culprit was Jonas.

“We’re going to be in trouble.” Chase hopped off his desk, walked over to his bed, and grabbed her shirt. “Put this on before you really do kill me,” he said, tossing it across the room.

Alex nodded, still in a daze.

As they walked outside, Alex dusted herself off, worried she still had Chase’s handprints all over her. Kaleb sat in his jeep, comically holding up his wrist to tap his watch. Posey was sitting shotgun, barely conscious, while Kaleb’s girlfriend Mackenzie tended to Jonas in the back seat.

“Jonas is actually coming?” Chase marveled, opening the door to Gabe’s car.

Gabe’s date reapplied her lipstick while Chase and Alex climbed into the back. Alex turned her head to the window, almost embarrassed. She felt Chase buckle her seatbelt for her, perhaps in a feeble effort to keep her on her side of the car. But in the end it was he who ventured toward her. Only a minute had passed before Chase undid his own seatbelt and slid next to her. She started to unbuckle hers, but he rested his hand over it. “No,” he whispered, “you stay safe.”

He brushed his lips over the nape of her neck, her collarbone, and her jaw but never kissed her lips. The streetlamps whizzed by every few seconds, threatening to expose them, but Gabe was babbling on, either trying to make small talk or trying to ignore what was going on in the back of the car.

When they arrived at the party, Alex guiltily ventured toward the jeep to find Jonas snoring, one arm draped over his eyes.

Mackenzie had a look of disgust on her face. “He said he was done throwing up, but I’m not so sure. Technically, you’re his date, so you should be taking care of him.”

Jonas groaned loudly, and Alex was reminded of all the horror stories on the news about kids who had passed out and choked on their vomit. “Maybe I should stay out here with him.”

Chase turned to Gabe. “Give me the keys. I’ll take him home.”

Gabe hesitated, eying his brother in silent reprimand.

“Oh, come on,” Chase said. “You’re not going to make Alex sit out here and babysit him all night, are you?”

Kaleb snickered. “You better hope Mom doesn’t wake up and look outside to see you driving.”

“She won’t.”

Gabe reached in his pocket and extracted the keys reluctantly. But when they attempted to move Jonas to the station wagon, he awoke. “I’m driving.”

“Sure bro,” Chase said with a smirk. “Except in this car the steering wheel is on the right.” He shoved Jonas into the passenger seat and rolled down the windows to give him some air.

When they turned onto the main road, Alex’s teeth began to chatter, so she curled up in the back seat.

“Are you cold?” Chase asked, reaching to turn on the heat. “You need some color back in those cheeks. You look like a corpse.”

His wording hit a little too close to home. Even he knew it. He winced like he’d stung himself.

With each passing street light, Alex took the opportunity to stare at his reflection in the rearview mirror. If only that would help to reveal his thoughts. Shivering, she covered herself in Gabe’s jacket. “I read an article the other day. This woman in New York, she died at twenty-eight. Arterial rupture.”

His eyes flashed angrily. “I told you to stop reading that crap. You could live to be older than me.”

Unlikely. They both knew that.

“About tonight … ”

He shook his head. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t plan to move backwards. I’ve thought about this for a long time.” He glanced over at Jonas when he said it.

“You know it isn’t a good idea.” She would die, and then where would he be?

“I tried to say something to you once a long time ago,” he said. “The beginning of ninth grade. I wrote you a note in your Shakespeare book. I even wrote it in iambic pentameter. It was so lame now in hindsight. And embarrassing. I’m glad you didn’t read it.”

“What did it say?”

“What do you think it said?”

“I don’t know. I never got the note.”

“Of course not. You lent your book to Becca Blackman, and then I had to fight her off because she thought I wrote it for her.”

“Then why did you date her?”

“Because the day Becca walked up and asked me out, you stood there and said nothing. You smiled like you didn’t care.”

“What was I supposed to do? Pull her hair?”

Chase shook his head. “It wasn’t the right time anyway. I should have known better.”

“Why do you always think you need to be so perfect?”

Chase twisted the knob to the volume of the radio. “What, buddy?” he asked.

Jonas stirred in the front seat. He turned to look at her, smiling. “Al-ex.”

“Hey, Jo.”

Jonas poked his brother’s cheek. “Isn’t she the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen in your life?”

Chase’s hands were suddenly tight on the wheel. He gave one stiff nod of his head.

Jonas flopped back against his seat. “Alex, will you marry me?” he said sappily and began to laugh hysterically. Then he was asleep again.

The silence was brutal. “I’m sorry,” she heard Chase whisper, but she didn’t know if he was talking to her or to Jonas.

That was the last time she saw any of them alive.

20

Chase was to be escorted directly to Brigitta. Kaleb and Jonas bolted from the field without hesitation, and Gabe followed suit, shoving his books into his bag with the vigor of a shoplifter. The group remained uncommonly quiet while they rushed to the tower. Questions bubbled frantically in Alex’s mind, and she feared if she opened her mouth to unclog her voice those questions would boil over. They’d surely sear someone, probably Jonas.

There was little relief back at Brigitta. Chase was nowhere to be found, and after an hour of keeping a nervous vigil in the vestibule, Alex had had enough of the thumb-twiddling and nail-biting. She said goodnight to the boys and grudgingly began the dizzying ascent to the seventh floor. Strangely enough, the higher she climbed, the more at ease she felt.

There was a big difference between walking toward something and walking away from something, and her intuition suggested the former.

The door to her room was already open, waiting. The top of the frame dipped low as though the doorway itself was smiling. She immediately felt Chase and hurried inside, her heart racing. He stood on the balcony, leaning against the railing, and the boyishly handsome guilt that plagued his angelic face sent a throbbing ache through her damaged heart. She had witnessed the expression so many times before. It served as a reminder of every act of mischief in which they’d been caught, of every time she’d noticed him staring at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. It was a mere taste of the smorgasbord of things she’d missed, things she assumed she’d never have the privilege of seeing again.

The intensity of it all was too much. Alex seemed to be moving in slow motion as she collapsed. Chase rushed forward, and whatever caught her—his presence, his energy, his projection—was strong enough to send volts of electricity through every part of her. It was equally jarring and riveting. Alex heard a loud pop followed by tiny clangs, and shards of glass rained down from the sconce above them. The light bulb had burst.

Holding her close, Chase nuzzled into the nape of her neck which erupted in pleasant chills. Everything around them seemed to blur. It was only them, and death had never beleaguered them at all. She burned in bittersweet happiness, and for a second she waited for impossible tears, knowing they could never suffice the feelings she felt at this point anyway. She looked upward, mouthing a “thank you” for each time she had wished for this moment. He was here. She could see him. She could feel him.

This one moment alone was worth her seat in Heaven.

Chase finally let go with one arm and stared at her. She’d so often wondered lately what it would be like to touch him here in death, and for him to touch her. She worried it wouldn’t be the same. But it was better. Here she could feel the force of the emotion. A faint ribbon of smoke curled around them, the heat of their energy contrasting with the temperature of the room.

“How,” he whispered, “do I begin a conversation I never thought I’d get the chance to have, but one I’ve thought about every day?” His eyes never stilled, tracing and retracing her face. “In my mind, I never went over the beginning. For the longest time, I just keep asking myself how this could happen to us.”

“Chase,” Alex murmured, loving the taste of it. “We always knew the ending of our story wouldn’t be happy.”

“But how did it end up with me in a coffin and you in an institution?” He picked her up and set her on the edge of the armchair, grabbing her hands. “How did we become a tragedy?”

“A tragedy is something that wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to die.”

“You weren’t supposed to die alone.” The creases in his forehead deepened. “Eidolon was like a curse for me. I had the ability to see you, and yet I was stuck here with these overbearing rules.”

Alex released one hand from his and stood to push her fingertips softly to his furrowed brow, trying to smooth out the frown.

“But if they’d kicked me out, chances are I’d have ended up confined in something much worse than this city.” His eyes searched her face so intensely she could actually feel it pressing against her. “I’m so sorry it turned to hell for you back home.”

“What are you staring at?”

“Colors. There’s a gorgeous pink light surrounding you.”

She laughed lightly. “You’re losing it.”

“My God, I missed that laugh. It’s the same color pink. I can see it in your head. I’ve been seeing these colors in my mind since I got here.”

“My laugh is pink?” She didn’t know why, but she completely believed him. “Speaking of minds, how have you been getting into my mine?”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “I don’t think you’ve noticed, but you’re in my head too.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Sometimes, during a thought or two, I feel you there.”

“How?”

“I really don’t know.”

“And how were you able to get into my dreams?”

He let go of her palm and weaved his fingers through hers. She was never more aware of her senses. Desire traveled from his hand to hers, tingling up her arm and then down through the rest of her.

“I’ve heard the mind is much more open to possibility when it is sleeping. Are you angry about me being there?”

“No. But why my dreams? Why can’t I get into yours?”

“I’m sure you can. The mind is not always a one-way street. Although”—he grinned—“I don’t think I want you to know the things I dream about you.”

Alex felt her face grow warm, and she wondered if her mind could program her cheeks to flush.

There were so many mornings after Chase had died when Alex would awaken to find pillows propped up next to her bed, slouched in the position of someone beside her. Other times, she’d find things out of place. Pictures of them. Mementos. She’d always convinced herself that it wasn’t him, that she was just going crazy like everyone said. But now she realized the cool scent of him had been there in the room on those mornings, and her heart had felt as light as it did now.

“Why didn’t you tell me you visited when I was still alive? Why didn’t you say something to me?”

“You couldn’t have heard me, and if for some odd reason you had, I worried it would have broken you. It practically drove me crazy to be there, knowing I couldn’t really do anything to help you. Knowing your sadness was because of me.”

Voices outside caused him to flinch. “I should go.”

Alex felt a sharp panic. She stood quickly. “Stay.”

“I can’t do anything to jeopardize my space here anymore. I’m sure they’ll send someone to check on me tonight. I’d better get back to my cell—I mean my room.” He smiled, wrapping himself around her again, cradling her tightly. His voice flitted into her mind. I just needed to see you. He brushed his fingers through her hair, and before she could beg him again to stay, he was gone. But somehow she knew he was happy. She felt like she was holding a piece of his smile.

* * *

Alex was never more eager to wake up than she was the following morning. Gray light peeked through the thin crack between her curtains, casting an ashen spotlight on a note next to her pillow.

Just wanted to be the first one to tell you good morning. I’ll see you after sessions today.

Love, Chase

She couldn’t take her eyes off the word love. She carried the note during the entire agonizingly long day, feeling its warmth in her pocket. It felt like an eternity before she reached her final workshop. Madame Paleo favored the lecture style of teaching where she could bark at her newburies. Usually Alex took ten pages of notes within five minutes, but for obvious reasons, she found it difficult to concentrate.

The distraction only multiplied when the live version of her daydream came waltzing in the door, and Madame Paleo came to a halt midsentence. Chase had to skip over backpacks and squeeze past students to make his way down the aisle. He handed a note to Paleo.

What are you doing here? Alex asked. Her entire being itched, wanting him to be closer, wanting to feel the sparks of energy again.

Chase’s eyes pieced through the crowd until he found her and winked. I need to attend extra workshops. I wasn’t exactly the model student last year. With respect to my actions, they don’t think I’ve learned much about the past especially.

Many of the girls in the room seemed to be sitting up a little straighter. Some hurried to fix their hair, and some even projected their clothes to be more flattering. But Chase’s eyes stayed on Alex until Madame Paleo suggested he take a seat “in the front this time.”

Chase agreed solemnly. I need to be on my best behavior, he told Alex, choosing a front row chair. He acted oblivious to his effect on the female population. She could only see his profile from where she was sitting off to the right, but she thought the way he nibbled on his pencil in concentration was adorable. He must have felt her eyes on him, because every few moments, he’d give her a quiet Hey and smile while he took notes.

At the conclusion of the session, Paleo did not dismiss the class, but instead ordered them to report directly to the Grandiuse. Several students asked what was going on, but Paleo held up her arms and ushered them out the back of the room without explanation.

Alex remained in place, allowing her peers to stomp past her. And she wasn’t alone. She noticed a few groups of girls merging into their respective huddles and tracking Chase’s movements. Even from several tiers above them, Alex could smell wafts of perfume, hairspray, and intrigue.

Chase hurdled the railing in front of Alex and grabbed her hands to help her out of her seat. The jolt of his touch was addicting. She didn’t dare look at those other girls now. He swung an arm around her shoulders while following the flow of newburies through the dark hallway leading to the Grandiuse.

Chase’s brothers were already waiting at their usual table in the middle of the Hall, on display per usual.

“What is this about?” Chase asked. He slid onto the bench next to Alex. “I’m guessing it’s not a welcome home party for me.”

“It better be short,” Jonas grumbled. “I want to head to the fields before it gets too late.”

“It must be exhausting to be so cranky all the time,” Kaleb teased, but Jonas ignored him.

Chase was sitting so close to Alex that she could practically hear the purr of electricity between them. It was like a thunderstorm approaching, and Gabe kept lifting his palms upward, waiting for rain even though they were inside.

Many newburies tried to steal a peek at Eidolon’s favorite delinquent. Alex could see the trajectory of the whispers arcing like the paths of missiles over the heads of the newburies. Chase was the target. Everyone loved a bad boy. He’d stolen the title from Jonas.

Alex hoped the meeting would begin soon to divert attention. “Hey! What’s that guy doing at the podium?”

“Who?” Chase asked.

Alex pointed to the bulky man with the long hair who looked very out of place standing next to the prim and proper Van Hanlin. “That Westfall guy. He was the one who got rid of the lure birds, and he was there that night with the banshee. Jonas, look!”

Jonas glanced at the podium passively.

“Commander Westfall?” Kaleb asked in awe.

“Yeah, do you know him?”

“I just know of him.”

“He’s a fighter, right? Is he one of the Patrol? Like Van Hanlin?”

Kaleb shook his head vigorously. “No way. Patrollers are like cops. Westfall was a part of the Ardor Service, which is more like military, but far more exclusive. Think Navy Seals.” He swayed from side to side to get a better look. “I wonder what he’s doing here.”

Gabe raised his eyebrows, openly intrigued. Kaleb rarely spoke with such admiration about anyone. “I think the more appropriate question is why he’s been here without announcing himself. You say he was there the night with the banshee?”

Alex nodded.

“I wonder if you blew his cover.”

“He wasn’t exactly hiding when he took care of the lure birds.”

“No, but newburies wouldn’t recognize him. The Patrol certainly would. He’s the most famous member of the Ardor Service.” Gabe reached for a nearby book and began flipping through the pages.

Jonas was trying to appear unaffected, though he kept glancing up at the podium. “So what’s he doing at Brigitta with us babies, then?”

The question was answered moments later when Madame Paleo took center stage. “You are probably wondering why this meeting was called so abruptly and so early in the evening. Brigitta’s learning center has been given the honor of hosting a spirit from whom we can all learn a thing or two. He’s been generous enough to donate his time.” She beamed at the brute of a man standing next to her. “Ardor Westfall’s objective will be security, his specialty.”

“Look at Van Hanlin!” Kaleb cackled. “He’s pissed!”

It was true. Van Hanlin looked like he was ready to spit nails. The former Patrol officer prided himself on guarding the campus and maintaining order. The professors must have doubted his adequacy, to bring in someone else to ease the rash of misbehavior.

“Furthermore, Ardor Westfall has also volunteered to assist in your studies.”

Westfall stepped down from the platform and began crookedly to circulate the room.

“Assist?” Joey Rellingsworth asked.

“Teach. If we’re going to have a seasoned ardor on campus, we should put him to good use. Consider this your first physical education session of the term.”

“This is going to be fun.” Kaleb grinned widely, sitting up straighter.

Westfall still stood among them and began to speak. He didn’t need to be front and center. A podium wouldn’t provide any more attention than he already had. “As a spirit, your world is up here,” he rumbled, pointing to his head. “And physical feats are no different. It’s all a matter of mental manipulation. I assume the campus still honors the time-honored tradition to haze newburies during arrival. Although you can exercise your brain, your initial response to whatever object is thrown at you is a pretty relevant indication as to what you have to work with.”

All four Lasalle brothers glanced at Alex, but they quickly resumed attention because Westfall ambled past their table. He swept his brown hair into a ponytail, revealing smooth, ageless skin, with the exception of his brow. Even when he wasn’t frowning, the lines on his forehead were ever-present. Alex was surprised to find that this man who had supposedly served Eidolon for centuries looked only slightly older than Kaleb.

“Half of the battle is reflexes!” He launched a glass orb to the other side of the room.

Reuben instinctively covered his head with his hands. The orb slammed into his forearms and ricocheted to the wall, where it smashed behind his head.

Ardor Westfall grunted in disapproval. “Quick reflex but wrong reaction. You allowed the force of it to hit you.”

The Hall was filled with nervous titters of laughter. Reuben slouched deep in his seat and tugged at his shirt collar.

“Don’t be embarrassed. That was a typical reaction for a newbury.”

A hand shot up in the air. “The object can’t hurt us, can it?”

“The object itself cannot, but the force of it can, especially with certain materials.” Westfall walked to the front of the hall. “Reflexes can be conditioned, but only to an extent. In their absence, we must tighten the mind and concentrate on exercising it. Please look for my notes,” he ordered, pointing upward.

A projection hovered above him like a thought bubble. The words appeared letter by letter, dictated by his mind. He displayed several tactics under the title: Defense. The words didn’t make sense to Alex.

Barrier

Slingshot

Flickering

Sword swipe

“Many talents are too difficult to learn consistently and effectively. You might never have the mind power to execute seventy percent of the abilities we will be discussing in the next few weeks, but it’s beneficial to learn about them anyway. You don’t learn history to fight a war, do you? But today! Today, you get a taste of it all. It’s time to strengthen your minds using action. Those spirits to whom I spoke before the lesson, please come up front!”

Four kids lifted themselves from their seats, including Jack and Calla Bond.

“Movers,” Gabe said curiously. “Why does he want the movers?”

Dex Justice, a Darwin ally, sauntered arrogantly to the front of the room, shoving Jack with his shoulder before positioning himself in a horizontal line with the others. Scrawny Jack scanned the room nervously with his green eyes until they rested on Alex who smiled, trying to make him feel more comfortable. He offered a little wave and half the room recoiled, thinking it was directed at one of them.

Westfall leaned in to whisper something to the group, who listened to his command with avid interest. He handed each of them a glass orb the size of a softball.

“What are you doing, Ardor?” Van Hanlin asked with a frown.

Westfall didn’t even look at him. “Conducting a little experiment.” He lifted his hand high in the air and brought it down swiftly like he was giving the okay to begin a race. At his signal, all four spirits elevated the orbs in the air before pelting them forward at a speed to rival professional baseball pitchers. Alex would have found this interesting to watch if all four orbs weren’t aimed directly at her.

It began so quickly, yet somehow her mind slowed the seconds leading to the impact. In her peripheral vision, Alex saw the kids around her curling away, but she focused so intently on the orbs that her vision began to blur. The contents inside the orbs, silvery flakes, rose and spun like a sandstorm, and in her thoughts, she ignored the glass and snatched the sand with her hands.

Chase gasped and leaped from his chair to block her, but it was unnecessary. Alex didn’t need to look at the shock on the faces of the Lasalles because she could see the reflections of their wide open mouths in the four glass bulbs that remained suspended in midair, twirling before her like harmless bubbles.

They remained trapped by the stagnant sand until Alex relaxed, and the hands in her thoughts spread their fingers, allowing the grains to trickle down. Without the pull of her concentration, the orbs clanked to the ground and rolled away.

Westfall shrugged without remorse. “I was curious.”

The room filled with laughter.

“Don’t look so offended. I wondered if you might dodge them before they were even thrown.”

“How would I have known to do that?”

“Sometimes we don’t know what our minds are capable of until they’re put to the test. Hence your banshee encounter and survival.” In a blink, he appeared beside Alex, shaking sand from his shoes even though none of the orbs had shattered. “You have natural ability, just not the one I was expecting. What’s your name?”

“Alex.”

“Your last name?”

“Ash.”

She noticed that his gray eyes seemed weathered like his frown lines. They were older. Deeper, troubled, and tainted after seeing too much. He turned to face the rest of the newburies. “Don’t expect yourselves to execute a block of that caliber without some practice.” His voice was low when he added, “I was merely proving a point.” And he shared a look with Professor Duvall. “Alex, you’ll work with the Bonds. Maybe they have finally met their match.”

For Westfall to speak so candidly about the Bonds, he mustn’t be intimidated by curses, but Alex doubted he was intimidated by anything.

“The rest of you will also form groups of two or three and use the provided guide to attempt the different ways to shield. Do not focus on just one method. You need to know them all!”

“We get to throw things at each other?” Kaleb asked in excitement. “Sweet! Come here, Jonas!”

Alex rubbed her shoulders, allowing the weight of Westfall’s judgment to lift.

Jack approached, mumbling an apology. Calla was quiet at his side.

“I’ve been nothing but nice to you and you throw a glass ball at my head to thank me.” When Jack smiled, his freckles seemed to blend together. “I should have just let that bench crush me. It would have saved me all this grief,” Alex said, turning her attention to the other groups in the room, who were hurling orbs and books and pencils at one another.

Chase mouthed, “Are you okay?”

She nodded.

“Well, we already know that you’ve mastered the barrier method,” Jack said, glancing at the booklet in front of them.

“What is slingshot?” Alex asked.

He continued running his thin finger along the text while murmuring, “Oh, it’s almost the same as barrier.”

“Except you reverse the direction of the object,” Calla added softly.

“I thought most spirits weren’t very good at telekinetics.”

“This is different,” Jack said. ”You’re using the force the object has already generated to divert it. That’s much easier—”

“Than moving the object all by yourself,” Calla finished.

“Do you two always finish each other’s sentences?”

“Typically.” Jack tried to lean against the table smoothly but he accidentally slipped. Alex tried to hide her smile.

“Twin complex,” Calla muttered. “When he falls, I bleed, and vice versa.”

She didn’t seem pleased about this.

“Even when we died, it was the same way,” Jack shook his head of matted gray-brown hair. “I had a brain tumor, and when I died, Calla died with me, even though she had no symptoms.”

Calla lifted a finger to her forehead. “He has too much up here.”

Alex was confused until Jack snickered. “A brain tumor has nothing to do with an excess of brain power.”

“So were you a genius in life, too?” Alex asked.

“I was probably headed to an Ivy League school.”

“Lots of people do that.”

“At sixteen,” he added.

“Oh.”

Jack’s grin accentuated the puffy half-moons under his eyes.

“You look tired. Must be from staying up late and memorizing books.”

Jack vigorously shook his head back and forth, trying to wake up. “I know we need an adequate amount of sleep, but my mind just feels like it’s moving so quickly. I can’t sleep.”

“And therefore, I’m tired,” Calla growled.

“It can’t be fun being in each other’s heads,” Alex said, glancing over at the Lasalles. Kaleb was firing orbs at a disgruntled-looking Jonas. She could hear Chase’s pity for his brother.

“Quit staring at your boyfriend,” Jack joked.

Alex wasn’t quite sure who he meant.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“You’re always saying the wrong thing,” Calla accused him.

“Am not.”

“Are so.”

Alex held up her hands. “No. I’m just not sure who you’re talking about.”

“Jonas. You’re with him all the time, aren’t you? I notice things.”

“Jonas isn’t my boyfriend.”

“Oh?”

“No.”

An orb flew across the room and slammed into Jack’s back. He ignored it and kept his eyes on the text. Calla lifted an arm to rub between her shoulders “Ouch.”

“Why do you let people treat you that way?”

Jack shrugged carelessly. “I guess we’re just used to it.”

“That doesn’t make it better!”

“Heavy lies the head,” Jack murmured. Calla nodded, fiddling with her sweater. “We have more important things to worry about than people teasing us. They’ll learn their lesson one day. Calla’s and my luck will change. We’re good people. And good things happen to good people. Even if we don’t stay here in this city.”

“You’d leave?”

“It isn’t written in stone that we have to live here.” Jack paused with his mouth ajar, revealing his horsey teeth. “Let’s try flickering.”

“What’s that?”

“Flickering,” he read, “is when a spirit momentarily flickers out of visibility. Why do you look confused?”

Alex studied the text. “I know the bodied can’t see us, but how can spirits hide from one another?”

“If we aren’t looking for each other, it’s possible to fool the mind, if only for a few seconds. You just have to move yourself to a different place. Give it a try.”

Embarrassed, Alex glanced around the room at the other students.

“What’s the matter?” Jack asked. Realization spread across his face. “Oh, I’m sorry.” He smacked himself. “You don’t know how, do you? No sweat, it’s one of the simplest things to learn. Just imagine yourself shrinking in all directions.”

Calla jumped in. “Like a genie being sucked into a lamp.”

“Except you’re condensing yourself into a ball in midair. Then quickly move to a space you don’t think I’ll look for you.”

Alex closed her eyes and imagined that the walls around her were closing in, the air constricting her. Nothing happened.

“You forgot to move. And keep your eyes open so you know where you’re going.”

She focused on the corner of the Grandiuse right next to Westfall. Jack wouldn’t expect her to venture anywhere near a man who had just ordered an attack on her.

She heard a tiny gazump like sealing Tupperware. She blinked, and she was completely across the room.

“Wow,” Jack yelled. “That didn’t take you very long at all.”

Alex practically danced back to their table. “Could you see anything?”

“Right before you moved, I noticed your light.”

“What does it look like?”

He considered his answer for several moments. “It’s never still. Like the reflection of the moon over the ocean.”

Calla nodded. “It’s pretty.”

“Could the bodied see it?”

“Rarely. But it has happened.” Jack flipped through the text. “I think that’s why sometimes the bodied think we aren’t in a whole form, why they think that we’re hazy or we flicker.”

Chase appeared beside her. He turned his head and kissed her cheek before disappearing again. Jack and Calla both stared at Alex, openmouthed.

Alex hoped she wasn’t blushing. “This is pretty cool. Thank you so much, you two.”

Calla looked away. She’d probably never been complimented in her life. Jack grinned, exposing his large teeth.

“I can’t believe something like this is possible,” Alex breathed.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” a voice barked.

“Hello, Ardor Westfall,” Jack said, saluting.

“After all, all you are is a projection. A memory,” Westfall said, crossing his arms. “And memories never stay in one place.”

21

Kaleb was always suspicious of Jonas. He loved his brother, of course. He loved all of them, but the others made it easier than Jonas did. Jonas was sneaky. Kaleb was certain he would stab any of them in the back in order to make himself look good.

He drummed his pencil on the table and glanced at the door, but the rest of his clan had yet to arrive. Despite its old-fashioned exterior, the Ex House on Lazuli Street was relatively modern. Its thick wooden tables and armchairs deep enough to sink into resembled a coffee house. They served flavors of the misty froth passed around during festival street parties. The newburies around here called it the Ex drink. Every cup displayed a blurb explaining the history of the mist and its creator, Xander Aris, but Kaleb didn’t care enough to read it. He liked to have it, though, because it provided a brief buzz like a shot of some super energy drink.

Usually Kaleb hung out in the Back Room of the Ex House, an area much louder and rowdier, with pool tables, foosball and ping pong. But today he had work to do. Instrumental music drifted through the more studious front half of the bar. The little black notes rose to the ceiling and arranged themselves into a life-sized sheet of music. He didn’t know how, but his mind told him it was called Vivaldi. He’d never admit it to anyone, but he actually liked it. Kind of.

It was easy to distinguish the various newbury cliques. The legacies typically loitered in the Back Room, competing to see who could hold their nose the highest. Tonight, they’d arrived without Skye Gossamer, so Kaleb didn’t give them a second glance. She was the only one worth staring at. Then there were the movers, whose belongings hovered around them like flies. The chokers sulked in the corners reading Poe or Emily Dickinson. You’re dead, he always wanted to shout, get over it! The crew of “earthly” newburies showed avid interest in stones, plants, and herbs. Naturally, they faithfully followed Professor Duvall. Kaleb hated teacher’s pets.

Tonight there were a few random spirits, like Hecker Smithson, who took up more room than a pro lineman and never spoke to anyone, or Reuben Seyferr, who was always itching like he had fleas. Kaleb had waved to both when he arrived. The Lasalles—as they had done in life—discriminated against none, but befriended few. Kaleb had learned a long time ago that trust was not something to hand out like candy, but friendliness went a long way.

Jonas was the first to show his ugly mug. He stood at the serving station with one foot propped leisurely behind the other, leaning against the counter of the bar like a wannabe cowboy watching the door. Probably waiting for Alex. Pitiful. Jonas didn’t seem to realize that his fifteen minutes with her were over. Chase was back, and things were normal again.

Jonas always went after things he couldn’t have. And then he got pissed when he didn’t come out on top. Impossible odds.

When Alex predictably arrived with Chase, Jonas turned around and pretended he hadn’t been waiting. Kaleb shook his head in amusement. Jonas was wasting his time. Alex and Chase had been attached at the hip since they were born. In life, Kaleb would sometimes enter a room and wonder how in the middle of winter it could possibly smell like spring. Then he’d hear giggling and look down to find the two of them playing together. That strange feeling in the air, it had to be love. It followed them now like a trail. He thought of those two as one entity. Before Alex died, Kaleb would look into Chase’s eyes and his brother would not be there. Some part of him was missing. She was that part of him. How the hell could Jonas not see that?

Kaleb wasn’t sure he believed in love. But he believed in whatever hovered between Chase and Alex.

Jonas turned and acknowledged Alex, a dowdy straw dangling from his mouth. None of them noticed Kaleb sitting behind a computer.

The barista appeared. “What will it be?”

“Want anything?” Jonas asked Alex, but she shook her head. “What about you, delinquent?”

Chase stepped up to the counter and surveyed his options. Jonas waited, resting an elbow on Alex’s shoulder and flicking the straw in her hair.

“Cut it out,” she said, swatting him away.

“Did you have fun trying to beat the crap out of Jack Bond? I know I would.”

“I thought you didn’t mind Jack.”

Jonas shrugged indifferently. He was trying to act cool, but he just looked dumb. Kaleb snorted loudly, and they all turned to see him.

Alex drew back her head slightly. “Kaleb! I’ve never seen you look so serious!”

He winked at her, and she walked around the table to sit next to him. “You’re going to scare all my admirers away,” he joked.

“I don’t think any of your admirers have ever been intimidated by me.”

It was true. Alex was a good wingman, actually. He wouldn’t have put up with her for so many years if she wasn’t.

“What are you wearing that for?” she exclaimed in surprise.

“What?”

She picked at his shirt. His mind projected a jersey each day by default. He typically didn’t question it because it didn’t bother him. Now, however, he looked down and realized why Alex was wrinkling her nose.

“You hate that team,” she said as if he didn’t know.

“I have no clue why I have it on. Maybe because I hate doing homework.”

“What are you up to?”

“History research for Paleo. It sounds very high school, but it isn’t so bad.” He twisted his head left to right and then leaned in close. “Don’t tell anyone, but research doesn’t make me want to slit my throat anymore.”

“Now that you finally have a brain.”

“My sentiments exactly.”

Alex stared at his paper. “Josephine Anovark,” she read. “Eighteen forty-nine to eighteen sixty-five to nineteen-oh-one.”

“It’s odd to have two death dates, huh?”

“She didn’t last very long. Who was she?”

Kaleb held up his notebook. “We were supposed to focus on the advancements within a particular time period, not the people, but I couldn't help myself. This chick was everywhere. She was the first advisor for the DeLyres and some sort of celebrity.”

“DeLyres?” Alex perked up. “I’ve heard of them. Who are they?”

She was joking, right? He studied her face. Nope, not joking. “You know … like our Chancellor?”

“Who?”

“The Chancellor basically runs the city, Alex. He’s in charge around here. You’ve been here a few months. You should know these things by now.”

Her Intro teacher must be slacking. She probably got stuck with Van Hanlin.

“You haven’t heard of someone named Eviar, have you?”

“Eviar?” Sounded like a brand of bottled water. “No.”

Disappointment clouded her face. “So the DeLyres are in charge, but this girl helped them?”

He nodded. “Actually, she even ran away with one of them. Except their little union didn’t last long because some lunatic named Syrus Raive hunted her down and killed her.”

“Why?”

“I think he was pretty irritated that she destroyed his side of the war.”

“And he killed her?”

He nodded. “Totally slaughtered. I’ll have to thank Paleo for assigning me a time period with such heartwarming stories.”

He was actually pleased that this project hadn't been a snore. The spirited world treated this girl like some sort of second coming.

Jonas and Chase arrived with steaming mugs. Jonas wore his typical peeved expression, and Chase seemed bemused. All was right with the world.

Alex lifted her bag and took out a text the size of a phone book. Because spirits could read so efficiently, the teachers assigned hundreds of pages to read for homework. He didn’t envy her right now.

“I still need to do that, too.” Chase sighed. “I usually like Van Hanlin’s law class, but amendments to transportation laws are just boring.” He opened his own law book. “Maybe I’ll just get that out of the way now. Let me know if you need help with it.”

“Or you could just do it and I’ll copy.” Alex suggested.

“Oh, may I please?” Chase turned to Jonas and reached for his notebook. “Can I borrow some paper?”

“No.” Jonas snatched the notebook and stuffed it in his bag.

Kaleb narrowed his eyes at his brother. “What’s your—”

“Here,” Alex said quickly, handing Chase several sheets. “Gabe gave me some earlier.”

“Where is he?” Kaleb asked. Gabe would be so proud of him for being interested in history, and he wasn’t even here to witness it. What a waste.

“He isn’t coming,” Alex replied. “Romey came to see him at the fields last night. He has to play watchdog for the front desk.”

Jonas began to gather his things feverishly. What was he up to?

“I forgot I need to go to the Grandiuse and check out some books.” Jonas scooped up his pile of belongings.

The only person less likely than Kaleb to check out books would be Jonas. Kaleb didn’t believe him for a second.

“Don’t you want your drink?” Alex asked.

“You can have it,” he said quickly. His sports gear spilled over the armload of books.

And now he was giving things out? Something was definitely up.

“That was strange,” Chase murmured after Jonas disappeared.

Kaleb nodded. “What’s in that drink of his? Hand me that,” he said to Alex.

She adjusted her seat to reach for the abandoned drink, and the leg of the chair caught on a backpack Jonas had forgotten in all his hurry. When Kaleb reached down to dislodge it from the chair, flower petals fluttered to the ground.

He made eye contact with Alex. Flower petals? Alex shrugged in response and held up the bag. There, condensed together snug as pickles in a jar, were dozens of yellow flowers.

Were these for Alex? She certainly wouldn’t admit it if they were. That girl could be so damn naive. Jonas could march into the Ex House wearing an I Heart Alex sandwich board and she would still deny his feelings.

The thing was, though, even if Chase saw the flowers, he wouldn’t do anything about it either. Hell, he would probably watch Jonas get down on his knees and give them to Alex and still keep his mouth shut. Kaleb didn’t understand it at all. Either Chase felt guilty, or he knew that never in a million years would Alex pick Jonas over him. This was exactly why Kaleb didn’t keep one girl around too long.

He watched Alex quickly close the bag, but not before the stench of moldy, wet dog reached his nostrils. He stifled a gag and swatted in front of his nose.

“Back so soon?” Chase called over the ruckus.

Jonas was pushing through the crowd again. Alex kicked the bag further away. It fell to the side, exposing a warped, brown water ring. She was a better person than Kaleb was. He wanted to call Jonas out on the flowers. Embarrass him. Knock him down a few pegs.

Jonas dashed through the maze of tables, his eyes bugged wide until he saw that his bag was lying on the floor, seemingly untouched. He breathlessly pointed to his property. “Oh good. I did leave it here. Can you hand my bag to me?”

When Chase passed it to him over the computer, Kaleb couldn’t help himself.

“You’re looking a bit yellow, brother.”

Jonas clutched his bag snugly against himself. “Huh?”

Alex smacked Kaleb across the chest, and he turned to smile mischievously at her. “Where are you going again?”

“The Grandiuse.”

“Back-petaling, are you?”

Jonas turned his heel. He didn’t get the joke. Moron.

Kaleb returned to his assignment and worked quietly for several minutes until something caught his eye. Parrish Park. The words were there on the page like old friends, waving and smiling. He kept reading. Civil War. Soldiers. Cove.

He shot back in his chair. “Holy—”

“Kaleb!” Alex cut him off. He fought the urge to say the word just to spite her. They weren’t sitting in church or anything.

“Things just got weird. This girl.” Kaleb pointed to the computer. “Guess where she died?”

Alex shrugged.

“Take a wild guess.”

Chase stretched his body around Alex to get a look at the monitor.

“I’ll give you a hint. There once was a girl who fell off a cliff because there were confederate soldiers chasing her. Well, actually, this says they pushed her. I never heard that before. She died when she smashed into the rocks below. She paces the beach and haunts the woods around it, digging up the ground. Ring a bell?”

“What does the Parrish Cove Ghost have to do with anything?” Chase asked.

“The Parrish Cove Ghost is all over the time period I’m supposed to research.”

“You’re kidding.”

“It gets better.” Kaleb’s voice shook in anticipation. “She died there twice. In life, soldiers chased her to the edge, and then in death, Syrus Raive found her there once the Restructuring War ended. That was where he killed her again.”

Chase laughed. “So we were afraid of those woods for nothing? She only haunted them from … ” He glanced at her death dates. “Eighteen sixty-five to nineteen-oh-one?”

“Guess so! Hey, don’t tell Jonas. If we ever go back there we can make fun of him for being afraid.”

“You’re sure this was our ghost?” Alex asked.

“Unless there were two of them.”

“Because that doesn’t explain why footprints still show up on the Parrish beach.”

“Oh, don’t ruin the moment, Alex. Half the time the people who attempt to see the ghost pass out in a drunken stupor. Any idiot could walk by and leave footprints.”

He’d never heard the name Josephine Anovark in Parrish, but then again, he’d never tried to uncover the true identity of the cove ghost. According to his research thus far, before Josephine was recruited to help the DeLyres, she assisted the Ardor Service. She’d spent years helping them track down spirits who became unstable or who broke the law in significant ways. One of the spirits she’d helped to imprison was Syrus Raive, the man who later killed her.

The creepiest part was that according to the statements following her second death, the two had been friends.

22

August 1866

Dear Sephi,

I worry so often about a world the mind engineers. Your gifts cause you to question your sanity, and I admit I have similar concerns.

Sanity. Insanity. The line between the two blurs in dreams. You can get away with so much in the dream world. What makes this world any different? What is real, and what is not? I’ve been inside your head. Are things really the way you see them or the way I see them?

I’m pleased you were invited to speak to the Ardor Service at the Dual Tower. If you are amongst the strongest in the city, the risks are diminished.

If all goes well, perhaps you can introduce me to the infamous Ardor Westfall.

* * *

The man was up so high Alex could barely see his shiny shoes. Due to the gaggle of girls huddled at the foot of the ladder, she wondered if the invisible man was the notorious professor, Dr. Darby.

“Some of the animals get distressed in bad weather,” she heard a cheery voice call down. “Best to calm them before they get too worked up.”

Oh, it was Darby, all right. Gabe called him the zoologist to the dead.

Darkness lurked behind the glass of Duvall’s aquarium. Storm clouds blocked what little sun could break through the massive cover of trees. Alex took her seat, pulling out several of Eviar’s letters. She carried them with her now, justifying her obsession with the idea that it was comparable to carrying around a novel. And even if she wanted to leave them behind, the box found ways to sidle across the room and wait patiently by the door like a faithful dog.

Eviar’s talents kept growing, the most interesting being his ability to persuade. He began by willing other newburies to give him their belongings or homework, but he grew bored and began to use his skill for amusement. Alex had laughed out loud when she read about the day Eviar persuaded Paul Bond to dive into the fountain and flail like he was drowning. He insisted to Sephi that he was just very influential. Sephi believed the ability would more aptly be termed mind control.

And that was just the tip of the iceberg. Eviar was a mover, but even that grew into something extraordinary. Typically, advanced newburies learned to elevate pencils and books. Natural movers were usually able to channel their energy into more substantial objects like furniture. Eviar, on the other hand, had taught himself to move clouds and treetops. With such gifts, there was no possible way that his life wouldn’t be documented somewhere besides his letters to Sephi. But no matter how much she searched, Alex failed to unearth any spirits with powers like his. She couldn’t find Sephi’s name in history either, which was even more frustrating because Eviar had said she was well known.

The more Alex read, the more she felt attached to the two of them. She would frequently find herself entranced by Eviar’s words, unable to move, losing track of time and responsibilities.

She was forced out of her reverie when a man slid down Duvall’s ladder, calling to order the giggling girls and irritated boys. Thin and lanky, yet polished and proper, he was the type of dazzling man one could call pretty and get away with it.

Alex searched for Duvall and found her hovering in the back of the room where she could freely cast the weight of her glare onto Reuben and the Bonds. She didn’t approach the podium.

Darby flicked his head and a light appeared at the front of the room. It circled around him like a spotlight. “Slight change of plans,” he said. “I will be your guest lector this morning. We have much to cover and an inadequate amount of time to learn it because you weren’t supposed to delve into banshees until next term.”

The class began to buzz with excitement.

“And that,” he sighed, “is precisely why Ardor Westfall suggested we jump the curriculum. For some reason, newburies find these dismally dangerous demons to be fascinating, but I can tell you there should be not such enthusiasm. There have been various sightings of banshees in our territory, and many think it sport to battle them.” The light around him grayed. “That would be as foolish as a human jumping into a tank to battle a great white shark. Something tells me that you wouldn’t be lining up for that one.”

Without warning, a life-size image of a banshee flashed in front of the classroom, resulting in a handful of screams. Alex shivered violently when the maniacal eyes bored into her through the gangly threads of its greasy white hair.

“Banshee,” Darby began, “in the physical world is derived from Irish myth as an omen of death. The Irish weren’t far off. They just had it backwards. A banshee does not warn someone of their imminent death; it can often be the cause.”

Alex’s stomach tightened. She attempted to take notes, but her hand trembled too much.

“A banshee’s shriek can cause heart attacks in the bodied, but only to those who have an uncharacteristically vast sense of hearing. Most humans cannot hear the scream at all, even if the beast is hovering right next to them.”

Alex shivered again.

“Celtic Christians had an even more accurate description for banshees. They called them ‘fallen angels,’ which in a sense is correct. The scariest aspect about a banshee is that you or I could all too easily become one of these decrepitly hollow creatures. A banshee is simply a spirit like us whose mind has been shattered. It still exists but in pieces. Now I’m not saying we’re angels, per se, but we could be mistaken for them.”

It was hard for Alex to believe that this vile being had been born from a normal spirit. The image zoomed in on the banshee’s face. She couldn’t bear to look at it. Her whole being zinged with discomfort.

“Folklore mistakes banshees to be only female, probably due to their frail frames and, sorry to say it, ladies, but female spirits have a higher tendency to lose control of their minds. Don’t shoot the messenger,” Darby said defensively. “I’m just citing statistics. A banshee remains in this world because he or she still has somewhat of a mind, though it doesn’t function. If you notice the features of its face—” Dr. Darby gestured with such vigor that the momentum caused the image to ripple.

The image billowed like an enemy flag, floating towards her. Alex felt heavy, clammy, distressed. She hunched forward and cradled her throbbing head in her hands, and appropriately on cue, a rumble of thunder resonated outside.

“The purple rings under its eyes are something to be thankful for. Banshees have no reason, no thought processes besides the will to survive. They’ve gone back to their primal instincts, like wild animals. They barely function enough to realize that they need sleep, so eventually they just fall to the ground in a heap. The more tired they appear the less strength they have, and thus the better chance of your survival.”

Alex raised a trembling hand.

Darby didn’t seem surprised. “Do you need some air?”

Alex shook her head. If she left class now, there would be nothing else to fill her mind besides the low wail echoing in her ears. “Why are they so strong if they have little brainpower?”

His face brightened in surprise. “Very good question. Just because a banshee can’t control its mind doesn’t mean the power is gone. A banshee has nothing else besides force. It isn’t thinking about what it is doing, nor does it care, since the mind is broken.”

“And by broken, you mean … what?”

“Without repair. A completely maniacal being without a thread of sanity. Unfortunately, we all have demons stitched into the patchwork of our souls. We cannot allow them to become strong enough to rip us apart.”

“Does it happen in life? Or just in the afterlife?”

“Both. Strength of soul has nothing to do with the condition of the mind. A body without mental sanity can still transition into the afterlife.”

“There’s no treatment?”

“There are theories. Research. No cure thus far, however.”

Alex thought of the way the creature thrashed and convulsed in a rain of sparks. “Why the frenzy of electricity?”

Lightning flashed outside and the projection of the banshee flickered.

Darby shoved his hands into the pockets of his tight dress pants. “Fury. They can’t control anything, let alone their feelings.” He took a step closer to Alex. “Do you mind if I ask you a question about the one you encountered? What did you do to anger it?”

Jack guffawed beside her. “I heard she sent it flying across town.”

Reuben scooted his chair even further away from Alex.

“What does it sound like?” Joey Rellingsworth asked.

Alex glanced at Dr. Darby, who gave her the go-ahead by waving his hand.

“It’s hard to describe.” Her peers leaned toward her, listening with morbid fascination. Even Tess widened her bored, hooded eyelids. “The worst part wasn’t so much the sound of the scream, but the pain like arrows being shot into my brain.” Alex cupped her skull with her hands. “I can still feel it if I think about it.”

Darby flinched. “Unfortunately, that never goes away.”

“You’ve heard it too?”

“Only once.” He pulled his sleeves back to reveal a maze of scars. A girl next to him gasped. In some places, circular gray contusions marked his thin arms like rocks had skipped across a lazy lake and left permanent imprints. In others, it looked like a whip had cracked against his skin, indenting his arms without altering the pigmentation, like the skin had simply been scooped out.

“It attacked me even though I didn’t provoke it. It was so close I had to use my bare hands. This is from the electricity.”

Newburies stood up to get a better look at his battle wounds. “How did you survive?” Linton asked.

“I ran at it. I threw my entire body at the creature. I’d been fighting it so long I figured doing so would either kill me much faster or it would save me. Thank goodness it was the latter. It wounded both of us enough to end the fight. When I awoke, all I had left were the scars.” He gently replaced his sleeves. “Such a lengthy exposure should have been detrimental to your mind, Alex. The fact that you sit here with us now is nothing short of a miracle. You must be pretty durable.”

Of half-crazy herself.

“What could’ve happened?” Linton asked.

“If she had been exposed to the scream long enough, it would have driven her to the point of insanity. Within minutes she would have lost everything that makes her who she is, and she would have become one of them.”

Alex could have heard a pin drop in the classroom. No wonder the Patrol had behaved so oddly after they’d found her. They thought her mind had surrendered to the scream.

Joey gasped. “It can’t kill us?”

“Not by wailing.” Dr. Darby shook his head. “Remember, you exist because your mind exists. A banshee’s scream causes the mind to crack into pieces. Those pieces are still alive, but broken apart, they cannot function. It’s a fate worse than death. Your mind no longer belongs to you.” He flicked his hand and the image changed to a drawing of a banshee hovering over a lifeless human form.

“How come Alex still has her mind, then?”

Darby shook his head. “Your guess is as good as mine. She was lucky, I suppose. Alex, don’t scream though, just in case.”

She regarded him with trepidation. “Are you saying that a scream can shatter someone’s thoughts? Ruin their mind?”

“A voice is a powerful thing.”

“How are they hunted?” Reuben called out louder than Alex had ever heard him speak.

Finally, a topic he enjoyed.

“The Patrol contain them if they are able to. Most banshees are destroyed in their attempts to fight back, however.”

“How do they fight them?”

“Training. They know their habits, their weaknesses, and how to keep them from screaming. Plus, they rarely battle alone.”

Darby waved his hand again and the next image appeared on the screen. It resembled a Louisiana bayou with its drooping dull green branches and muddy gray water. “Banshees do not wander into our area, which is why the sightings have raised questions. Banshees are prone to warmer climates because they are attracted to energy. They flock to the swamps for the seclusion. Now whether their attraction to swamp plants is a result of this habitat or if it is simply a part of their survival strategy, we don’t know, but they have been known to appear in areas that grow bladderwort and sundew.”

“What the heck are those?” Linton yelled.

“Here is where we get into your science lesson. Be sure to take notes,” Darby recommended. Another image appeared. “Drosera!” Darby’s voice rang from the rafters. “Typically referred to as sundew!” It looked like an alien slug. Dozens of purplish-red antennae sprouted from its green peapod body. “If you notice the ends of the tentacles, there are bulbs composed of an oozing substance called mucilage, which lures insects to their deaths. The insects are attracted to the syrupy scent, and once they venture near enough to touch it, they adhere to the liquid and the sundew envelops them.”

Ironically, Alex thought the vicious plant was rather pretty. It was more like something that would live at the bottom of the Caribbean, not in a disgusting bog somewhere.

“The second plant, Utricularia, or bladderwort, is also carnivorous. A teardrop-shaped pouch opens at the sharp point to swallow its prey, much like a beak. These traps protrude from the stem-like tree branches.”

“Is there a picture of the bladderwort?” Madison asked curiously.

“You were supposed to see them up close and personal. I thought there were plenty in stock here to show you, but it seems the number has depreciated.” He squinted into Duvall’s tank. “We’ll have to live without a visual for the time being.”

At the end of class, everyone visited Duvall’s aquarium, hoping to catch a glimpse of what Darby described to be “banshee catchers.”

Duvall scoffed. “Bladderworts in November? Any idiot knows that they won’t bloom again until May!”

23

Chase walked toward Alex, who stood with her back to him in the Brigitta vestibule, watching the rain pelt the pavement. He didn’t need for her to turn around to know it was her. He could probably wander the world with his eyes closed and somehow eventually find her. That was how he’d felt the past year without her. Blind. Did it make him a horrible person that he wanted her to die just so he could have her back again? He’d always been drawn to her. It seemed the strings of his life were attached to hers. If she tugged in one direction, they both had to move. In two separate worlds, the pain of the pull was too much to live with but also too much to live without. Marionettes don’t do well without their strings.

Most of the spirits venturing across the square had given up on the idea of umbrellas. Vicious raindrops fell like stones, and they stung like paintballs. The other day, he'd overhead a newbury asking Westfall how pain could exist when spirits existed only as energy. Westfall had replied by saying the reflection of the sun on the ocean stings the eyes nearly equally to the pain of staring at the sun itself. Like most of the veteran spirits, Westfall liked to speak in rhymes and metaphors.

Chase came up behind Alex, and her body relaxed as the pull of the strings slackened.

“Hey,” she murmured without turning around. The colors flickering around her changed from lavender to bright pink. He’d grown accustomed to seeing the rainbows of emotions around people. Usually he saw lavender during workshops when someone was staring into space or out the window, daydreaming. He usually saw pinks and reds around Alex.

Chase wrapped his arms around her waist. He would never tire of the way her touch sent shockwaves throughout him.

“This isn’t going to be fun,” Alex said, gesturing out the window. “Thank goodness I don’t bruise so easily anymore.”

Chase sighed. There was something about Alex that was still very fragile, but he couldn’t say that to her now. It wasn’t a bad thing. The most beautiful things in the world were also the most breakable.

Alex turned to look over her shoulder, and he couldn’t help himself. He grazed his nose against her cheek. The feeling was better than skin-on-skin contact in life. Here touch had a current, a life of its own. Although, his mind clung to its old sensations, too, like when his stomach dipped because his lips hovered so close to hers.

It took all his strength to take a step back. He still didn’t know how much was allowed. In life, the only thing he ever cared about was keeping her safe, and that included her heart. He had watched her body slowly deteriorate, and it tortured him to witness it. How could he be selfish enough to fall for her if that would only make her death more painful? He’d never imagined they’d get an opportunity like this one. They couldn’t have dreamed of a better place. His feelings were so strong now, but what would happen to him—what would happen to her—if he gave in for just one moment and decided to kiss her? Half of him worried the force of it might devour the slice of life they still had. The other half of him feared it wouldn’t be perfect, that it might not live up to the years of desire they’d both endured only dreaming about it.

That was the thing about them. The intensity between them was not born from their death. When they were alive, sometimes he couldn’t breathe because she was just too much. It would always be all or nothing with them. And he’d rather have this uncertainty between them than broken expectations.

He tugged at her hand. “Come on.”

She followed reluctantly when he led her to the door. The force of the rain would feel like stepping through sheets of glass, but Chase would choose to brave this hurricane with Alex tucked beside him rather than choose to walk in the sunlight alone for the rest of his existence.

“What are you doing?” she yelled over the rush of the storm. “Why are you moving so slowly?”

Was he? She squinted at him through the rain, flinching with each drop that struck her. He yanked at her arm, forcing her small body to fall toward him. He hunched over her, sheltering her. If he could help it, nothing would ever hurt her again.

When they entered the Grandiuse and headed to their usual table, Jonas was grumbling in typical fashion. “You’d think Duvall would be happy that her students are so excited about one of her dumb plants for a change.”

“No teachers are happy that students are so enthused to learn about banshees. It seems like they’re afraid we’re trying to fight them for some reason,” Kaleb said, flipping pages in his ABC text. “How gross were those pictures though? Is that what they really look like?”

“They’re worse,” Jonas said. Alex took the seat opposite him, and he allowed his eyes to rest on her for longer than was necessary. She didn’t see it, but Chase did, as did Kaleb who snickered loudly.

“How did you hold on for so long?” Gabe asked. “Darby told our class it was impossible.”

Chase glanced at Alex and the ferocity of it caused the lamp above them to flicker like a strobe. He’d hated that he’d been so helpless that night. He’d seen the image of the banshee in her head like watching the scene through a one-way mirror, pounding his fists uselessly against the barrier.

Alex’s dark eyes flashed in his direction. “He told my class that the banshee was really, really weakened. Dead on its feet. We got lucky.”

“Jonas was lucky you threw him out of the way.” Kaleb chuckled. “What a knight in shining armor.”

Poor Jonas. Chase opened his mouth to defend his brother, but Alex beat him to it. “He ran at it! If Jonas hadn’t been there, I don’t know what would have happened. I didn’t even know what the thing was.”

“I don’t need you to defend me,” Jonas snapped. “You were stupid to provoke it.”

Alex pulled back from the sting of his verbal slap.

Chase watched his brother’s eyes sweep back to Alex to observe the effect of his words. In Jonas’s mind, if Alex allowed his words to harm her, it meant she cared. This pleased Jonas. It was written on his face like a confession.

Chase decided to pay him back. He inched his fingers closer to Alex’s on the table and intertwined his pinky with hers, an action that was as personal to Jonas as Chase kissing Alex square on the mouth. Consequently, the air around Jonas began to pop.

“Calm down, Jo,” Gabe said under his breath.

Skye Gossamer floated gracefully down the aisle and dropped her books next to Alex. She was oblivious to the eyes in the room that followed her like gravity. Her looks excused her peculiarity. “What are you guys talking about?”

“Banshees,” Alex replied.

Kaleb scooted closer to Skye. “What could possibly be bringing these suckers to California? There aren’t any swamps around here.”

Skye scrutinized the small space Kaleb had left between them. “Do you need more room?” She asked innocently.

Bewilderment struck his handsome face. He wasn’t used to such a reaction from the opposite sex. “No. Sorry.”

“Maybe there are secret stashes of bladderwort growing in the river,” Jonas joked.

Skye shook her head vigilantly. “Nope. It can be grown many places, but this climate doesn’t produce sufficient amounts.”

“Why not?”

“Duh, the plant is a carnivore. It needs those swamp bugs to survive.”

Jonas snorted. “There are bugs everywhere! And who asked you to sit at our table?”

“Who asked you?” Kaleb said, glaring at his brother.

Skye lifted her chin. “The average temperature here is about sixty degrees. There are not that many bugs,” she replied, flipping her silky, red blanket of hair over her shoulder. “And do you think the bog plants could survive the snow we get here sometimes? Probably not.”

“Okay, think about it. The banshees barely have brains!” Jonas insisted. “They can’t tell the difference between bog plants and pine trees!”

“Sounds like someone we know.” Kaleb elbowed Chase and directed a smirk at Jonas.

Chase didn’t reciprocate the thought. He was too busy watching the array of colors swarming his brother. Jonas had been so wound up recently that the air ticked around him, a bomb ready to detonate.

“What are we doing in this climate if it’s so hard to function?” Jonas spread his arms wide in emphasis.

“We sleep,” Alex reminded him.

“And we need the protection,” Gabe added. “We can’t exactly hang out in the south with the banshees, but we needed some sort of consistent warmth and seclusion, hence the massive trees.”

Kaleb was suddenly serious. “Reverting back to the subject of bog plants, I don’t buy that ‘out of stock’ ploy. I bet they just don’t want someone to pocket the plant and lure out a banshee.”

Gabe shut his book with a bang. “No one would be that dumb.”

Skye raised her eyebrows. “The school had plenty a month ago.”

“What?” Jonas’ eyes were huge. “How do you know that?”

“I’m in Duvall’s ABC Circle.”

“Like a club?” Alex asked. “Ellington keeps urging me to join an organization. I wonder if that would work.”

“Why do you think I know so much about plants and stones?”

Jonas keeled over, clutching his stomach.

“What’s wrong?”

Jonas’ body was shaking, but Chase knew his brother too well. He was laughing hysterically.

“A club for alchemy?” He snorted. “And botany and chemistry? I’d rather cut off my arm.”

“Oh leave her alone, Jonas,” Kaleb said.

“You said yourself that teacher’s pets are eff—”

Kaleb cut him off. “We don’t know him, Skye, I swear.”

But he didn’t stop. “So, you’re one of the earthly, huh?”

Skye gathered her hair to one side and braided it into a pretty, red coil. “The earthly? Please. Aren’t we past all these group stereotypes?”

They would never grow past them. Stereotypes existed for a reason. Besides, Skye called herself a legacy, so she had little room to judge. Chase’s mind conjured images of glass houses and stones.

Jonas grinned snidely, resting his chin on his fist. “Tell me, did you pre-order your Wicca for Dummies book?”

Chase bit his lip to keep from smiling. Jonas could be obnoxious, sure, but Chase had always thought him to be the most entertaining of his brothers. He had admitted this to Jonas once, just once, because immediately following the compliment Jonas had snapped at Chase and insisted he was being ridiculed. Too many seeds of scorn had been planted within Jonas to make him ignore the bitterness that rooted him to his unhappiness.

“When did they disappear?” Kaleb asked, trying to get back on track, or perhaps trying to turn Skye’s attention back to him. “The bladderwort flowers?”

Skye shrugged. “All I know is that the shelves were stocked when Duvall did her intake in October. She did everything early to get ready for the haunted house.”

Van Hanlin entered, pushing his arms to send an invisible jolt throughout the room. It was his way of telling them to end all conversation during study hall hours.

Kaleb lowered his voice to a whisper. “So someone stole it,” he mused. “Who would want bait for banshees?”

Who indeed. Chase only hoped that whoever it might be was finished with their experimentation.

24

January 1867

Dear Sephi,

Though I do not regret what I did, I am severely sorry for disappointing you. I was able to convince the Patrol that the incident this morning was a misunderstanding that spiraled absurdly out of hand, but you and I both know differently. I’ve warned Paul Bond on numerous occasions to stay the hell away from you, and yet he refuses to obey. With hunters in the area, I can only imagine the Bonds are the family with which they’ve been communicating.

It sounds like an excuse, but I do not remember anything after I lost control. It’s like a hole in my mind.

A message reached me that Paul Bond will be released from the medical center today. Bully for him.

I am afraid I’ll be held here in solitary for some time because I refuse to show off what I can really do. I won’t do what they ask. I won’t help them, not unless it will get me into the Ardor Service. I’ve had difficulty controlling myself. My thoughts explode only to burn more holes in my head. Where there are flames, however, there is power. I need to remind myself of this. I promise I will learn to channel the energy into use.

Don’t you dare let them get to you while I’m gone.

P.S. Since I’ve been here, I’ve heard several mentions of Paradise.

January 1867

Nothing much to do here in solitary except read. The selection is more extensive than I imagined. I have access to every book in the Grandiuse archives. I need only request it. I stumbled upon a book written anonymously by a gentleman who does covert work for the Service. I think perhaps it might secretly be the notorious Crete Reynes. The entire book is rather intriguing. I’ll have to get it to you somehow, but there’s a passage I would like to quote.

“Few have seen it, but my eyes have borne witness to the quote etched in bloodstone on the wall: “

Within the strongest spirit, one finds Paradise.”

Those who reside in the underground city have the most powerful of minds. The location of the exclusive Paradise remains a mystery to most.”

Paradise, Sephi. If we can live in a city so exclusive, maybe you can finally be safe. No one can hunt you in a hidden city.

* * *

Skye Gossamer was not used to waiting. Even prior to her death, before she learned about her ancestry and its perks, doors opened for her willingly. In life, she’d been just as captivating as she was now. It wasn’t always a good thing. She’d captivated the wrong person, and it had led to her premature death.

She’d had a very odd upbringing with her free-spirited parents and their communal life. The colony in which she’d lived housed several families with few rules. Perhaps if they’d realized this was the twenty-first century, if they’d accepted the fact that the world was not a safe place, and they needed locks on their doors, Skye would not have been attacked. She would not have been murdered.

She tapped her foot now waiting outside of Alex’s door. They were going to be late for Duvall’s ABC gathering. “Are you ready?” she called.

“Almost!” She heard from behind the door.

Seriously, how long did it take to imagine oneself in an acceptable outfit? Finally, the door swung open to reveal a small black box in the entryway. Had the box itself opened the door? She shook her head to discard such a weird thought.

She reached out to pet it, and it shut its lid with a bang. She didn’t like its vibe at all, so she avoided touching it when she entered the room.

Alex’s clothes were slightly wrinkled. She must have overslept. Skye made a mental note to bring her friend some valerian root from Duvall’s storage room. That would calm her nerves. Alex seemed pretty high-strung.

Alex twisted her hair into a bird’s nest of a bun even though her mind could have done it for her. “How do you manage that hair?”

Skye dramatically ran her fingers through it. She knew her hair was stunning. “I never cut it, so my mind doesn’t know the difference, I guess. I did always want waves like yours though.”

However, the way Alex's flyaway hair stuck out this morning, she wasn't so sure anymore.

“Wait, you never cut your hair?”

Skye shook her head. “My parents were hippies. Haircuts didn’t make the priority list.”

“Hippies, huh?”

“Technically, it’s communal living.” She held up two fingers. “Peace, love, and harmony.” She remembered her last day there and stifled a shudder. It was the furthest thing from peaceful. She hoped someone had cleaned her body well so she looked beautiful in her casket.

She led the way across campus and into the school. They floated up the large center staircase and into Duvall’s ABC classroom, where several newburies chattered happily. She chuckled at Alex’s double-take while seeing the dozens of rows of glass test tubes and flasks sending wisps of perfumed vapor into the air.

“I was expecting a cauldron,” Alex whispered.

“It must be in the back.”

Skye didn’t know why she bothered to formally introduce Alex to the others in the room. They already knew who she was. Between benches, banshees and Westfall’s orbs, Alex was well known. That didn’t mean other spirits weren’t wary of her, however. Being a strong spirit didn’t change the fact that the girl was a mystery. She had to be multigenerational, but no one knew her family history. She could be cursed like the Bonds or greedy like the Rellingsworths. The spiritual world deemed some families as rejects, and Brigitta was more cliquish than high school.

She heard the office door slam behind them. Professor Duvall entered in her usual getup of shawls and beads, and intertwined within them was a thick yellow and white snake that arched its head into the air. A long red tongue rippled out of its scaly jaw, and Skye could have sworn it smiled at her. She smiled back.

Duvall held up a sheet of paper littered with chicken-scratch of swirls and spirals, and flashed a wide grin at Alex. She winked at Skye and nodded her approval before turning to Whit, one of the group leaders. “Go ahead and take your team to the wormhole. I need you to fetch me some Kahuli.”

“Ka-what-i?” Whit asked.

“Sounds like an island,” said Linton, sliding off the desk to join Whit. He stood obediently, watching Duvall with avid interest. It was the only time Linton ever acted polite.

“Actually, it is found on an island. Kahuli are tree snails found on Oahu.”

Skye sensed her opportunity. “Professor, can Alex and I go with them, since she’s sort of observing today?”

Duvall didn’t even look up. “Absolutely not. Alex needs to stay safe and sound in bounds.”

Safe and sound? What did that mean? Duvall had never expressed concern before.

Skye hated to feel dissatisfied. Like hunger, once it hit, it couldn’t be ignored. “But I got to tag along with Whit on my first day.”

“Off to Oahu, my dears,” Duvall ordered, flicking her wrists with finality and ignoring Skye. “Aloha.”

Skye crossed her arms. Too bad her charms had no effect whatsoever on the teachers.

“Team two, Matthew, please take your group to the wormhole and head for the National Zoo. We need the hairs of a baby polar bear, and the zoo just announced the birth of their newest addition. The younger, the better.”

Matthew furrowed his brow. “They get Hawaii and we get the zoo?”

“Would you rather chase them down in Antarctica?” Duvall remarked curtly. “Because I need the hairs by tomorrow, and it would probably take you two weeks to track down a baby polar bear in the wild, let alone get close enough to extract the hairs without upsetting the mommy.”

Matthew relented. Skye patted him on the back, and his cheeks turned pink.

When team two departed, Skye and Alex were the only students left with Duvall. “Now, my loves, I’m running low on Thymoserum.”

Skye cocked her head. “What is that?”

“It’s a combination of chemicals that function to trick a bodied mind.”

This sounded fun. “To do what?”

“To forget. Sometimes we need things, tangible things, and although the bodied can’t usually see us, we still have to be sure they can’t see the object we take. We can’t make the item invisible, but we can trick their bodied minds to make it seem so. Everything is mental, even sight. So, I need for you to go fetch me some banana slugs.”

“Okay, how many?” Skye asked, extending her hand to pet the snake. It had a good temperament, but clearly Alex did not agree, because she recoiled against a cabinet when the snake stared at her openmouthed. The edges of its glistening fangs caught the light, and Skye directed a look of reprimand at the serpent.

“At least ten,” Duvall replied. “I know it isn’t mentally enticing, but you work so quickly, and this really is the most important job of the day.”

Skye tapped Alex on the shoulder and pointed upward. “Grab some of those.”

“Those what?”

“Test tubes.”

“What test tubes?”

Seriously? The girl could fight off a banshee, but she refused to open her eyes. Skye stretched up high to strum her fingers along the bottoms of the thousands of tubes suspended from the ceiling. They clinked together and began a ripple effect throughout the room, like wind over a wheat field. “You really need to start looking for things.”

Skye tugged a few from their strings and trudged out the door. Alex followed so closely behind her that she accidentally stepped on her heel, no doubt eager to get away from the snake.

Banana slugs were easy to find, even though they camouflaged among many of the plants. Skye could walk right up and yank them from the branches. Admittedly, they were pretty cute. One of them really liked her, she could tell, so she decided to keep it for a pet. Lulu, she called it, perched on her shoulder like a parrot.

“Skye?”

“What?” She could barely hear Alex. Her face was buried in the depths of leaves and dirt through which she was furiously sifting.

“Are the Darwins always so well behaved in ABC?” Alex sounded amazed.

“They really aren’t the monsters you think they are.”

“The other day they hung a boy from a gargoyle on the top of the school! How is that not bad?”

“He must have done something to make them angry,” Skye reasoned in her most innocent voice. She plucked a slug from the ground and said hello to it before placing it in a tube and wiping her hands on her pants. “They don’t usually act without reason.”

“How are you finding those slugs so quickly?”

“I always get jobs like this,” Skye complained. “I’ve gotten used to finding needles in haystacks.”

“Yeah, but how do you know the slug is under two feet of dirt?”

Skye stood up and flicked a slug into the container. “They leave a trail.”

“Where?”

“Use your eyes.”

“Oh, my fault,” Alex joked sarcastically. “I’ve been trying to see with my ears.”

Skye gave her a stern look. “I guess the more accurate advice would be to use your mind to see, since that’s what you’ve used all along, spirit or not.”

“You’ve lost me,” Alex groaned. “It’s too early in the morning for a lesson.”

This was Alex acting like she still had a body. “Concentrate on the ground. You can see much farther now than you ever could before, right?”

“I suppose.”

“It’s the same thing with something right in front of you. Don’t limit yourself to what is just on the surface.”

Alex squinted.

Skye stepped closer, studying Alex’s face. The slugs smudged the ground with a fluorescent yellow slime like highlighter ink, but Alex would never see it using her eyes instead of her mind. Skye was a natural at seeing and believing the unbelievable. Chalk it up to her upbringing in nature, but Skye knew objects had their own energy, their own history. “Refocusing isn’t going to help. Eventually, you’ll learn to use your mind to push through the ground.” Skye flicked one last slug into the container. “That’s it! We have plenty.”

“Why the rush?”

Skye hadn’t even noticed she was practically running. “Oh. If we get back early enough, Duvall will probably let us help her mix the serum.”

“What?”

“That stuff in the glass bowl on her desk. She’s always making some sort of concoction, whether for students, or the Patrol, or for the doctors at the medical center.”

Once they reached the learning center, Skye hurried down the hallway en route to Duvall’s room, so preoccupied with holding the container steady without dropping Lulu that she completely collided with Alex, who had stopped abruptly. She placed a hand on the wall to steady herself, and she felt a rippling ambience of concern and heard the murmuring of voices. Why would the wall be worried? She tilted her head towards the door to indicate that they should move closer.

She heard Duvall speak first. “You think it’s the real thing?”

“We don’t know,” a gruff voice answered.

“Westfall,” Alex mouthed to Skye.

“Who could possibly be in charge?” Duvall asked.

“A lot of people wanted her dead. The possibilities are limitless.” Westfall sighed loudly. “The Ardor Service questioned a few of the spirits who lived in Paradise at the time of the original members. But nothing out of the ordinary came up. I saw those spirits firsthand. I watched Van Hanlin hand pick those who left Paradise. This seems too juvenile for them.”

Skye heard the clinking of Duvall’s bracelets. “Have you considered that perhaps Van Hanlin is the reason they sent you here? To keep an eye on him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. He’s made some crucial mistakes. But I think it’s more because of Alex Ash.”

Things were getting interesting. Skye eyed her popular friend, who listened ardently.

“So you agree with me about her?” Duvall asked.

“No,” Westfall replied. “If Alex was who you think she is, she would have moved before I even planned to throw the orbs at her. It doesn’t matter if she stopped them in midair. She isn’t who you think, Lucia. Besides, the incidents began before she died.”

“Are you forgetting that Alex’s arrival was predicted? This is certainly the year!” Duvall exclaimed. “We were told specifically, ‘the year of the siblings.’ Or have you been around for another class of newburies with so many family members? There hasn’t been a group of siblings since the DeLyres! She predicted it, Ardor! And don’t you dare lie to me and tell me you don’t believe this is the year! Why else would you have arrived here, my dear? I’m guessing you heard about the multiple sets of siblings and came running!”

Skye was in awe of Duvall. No one spoke to crotchety old Ardor Westfall in such a way.

Duvall’s voice became quiet. “At least it justifies the mother’s death.”

Mother. Skye had overheard the Darwins whispering something about Alex’s relatives, but they’d never mentioned a mother. There was something special about Alex, but if Westfall was involved, her past had to be tainted. Westfall was famous for three things: fighting, protecting, and sniffing out criminals.

“We couldn’t have known they would go after her,” Westfall said. “Or that they would make assumptions off of mere resemblance. But again, I blame Van Hanlin. He said he could handle the surveillance in Brigitta.”

“Well,” Duvall said softly, “the girls will be back soon.”

Skye put a hand on Alex’s shoulder and guided her backwards down the hallway. Alex nodded to her, showing she understood. They would make it appear like they were just arriving. No sooner had they reached the edge of the hallway when Westfall stepped from the classroom. He eyed the duo suspiciously, but then again, his face always twisted in such a way.

“Hello, Ardor Westfall,” Skye and Alex both mumbled, sidling past him.

Duvall stood behind a large bowl on her desk. She was staring into space and stirring a liquid that hissed angrily. Smoke rose from the concoction in the form of a gray tongue writhing like a sea serpent. “It isn’t polite to eavesdrop,” she said absently.

How did Duvall know everything? From what Skye deduced, witches were not physic.

“Slugs, please,” Duvall said, holding out her hand.

Skye handed them over and peered into the bowl. The mixture chomped its lips and spat at her. She withdrew quickly, cupping her hand over Lulu protectively.

“See anything new?” Duvall asked.

“Always.”

“You finished even more quickly this time, Skye.”

“The ground was dry. It was easier to see the trail.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if everything that was buried left a trail?” Duvall gazed at Alex meaningfully, and then she pointed to the far wall. “Go into the cabinet above the sinks and fetch two daggers.”

Skye did as she was told and then handed one of the daggers to Alex.

Duvall handed each of them an Erlenmeyer flask filled with brown kidney-shaped objects. “Spear the little critters and collect the juice in a vial. Take your time. Don’t leave any juice to waste.”

Alex didn’t know what she was in for. This should be entertaining, Skye thought. Alex lifted the dagger and prepared to slice the skin. When the blade grazed the Alybon, the seed propelled from the table like a bullet.

Alex whipped back in her seat, shocked. She lowered her chin to the desk, analyzing the seeds, but they remained still. Skye bit her lip to keep from giggling. Alex lifted the dagger again, ever so slightly cutting the nearest Alybon, which cackled in a raspy voice and bent in half, clutching its belly in hysterics.

Alex shrieked, and Skye burst into laughter.

“You could have warned me,” Alex huffed, pointing to the creature. She certainly had a quick temper.

Skye grinned. ”And miss the look on your face?”

Though the corner of her mouth was upturned, Duvall continued to stir intently.

“Hold it like this.” Skye demonstrated how to grasp the sides. “And after you cut, just squeeze a little bit, so it doesn’t tickle it so much.”

“It’s alive?” Alex asked, sticking out her bottom lip crookedly to blow a curl from her face.

“Well yeah,” Skye said. Wasn’t it obvious? “Seeds become trees, you know.”

“Silly me. Trees aren’t usually ticklish.”

“Sure they are,” Skye said. Wasn’t that common knowledge? She’d heard them laughing so many times, even back when she was living. She finished squeezing the first Alybon and placed it back on the desk, where it pulsed up and down, catching its breath.

“Does it hurt them?”

“Does it sound like it’s in pain?” Skye knew that seeds were resilient, much more durable than the saplings they’d sprout after their burial. “They enjoy it. They fill back up in a few days.”

“With what?”

“Alybon juice, of course.”

“Now,” said Duvall, “come on up and pour it in very slowly. One at a time!” She held up one hand to halt them from moving together.

Alex stepped up and tilted the vial, releasing its contents into the steaming mud-like goo. A cloud of brown smoke puffed into the air, carrying the aroma of cinnamon.

Duvall smiled. “Very good, my dear.”

Skye emptied the contents of her vial into the mixture next. The serum turned an incandescent shade of purple. It was liquid sunset. And right as she smiled in delight, the color faded to a dull hue. Fingertips of disappointment pinched her.

“It’s done,” Duvall announced in satisfaction.

“Do you need us to help you package it?” Skye asked, eyeing the rows of tubes waiting behind Duvall. “I promise not to drop any this time.”

Duvall glanced over her shoulder. “No. Go ahead and get ready for your day.” She shooed them off. “And be sure to go the back way.”

Skye clucked her tongue in disappointment. “Why?”

But Duvall already had her head halfway into the bowl.

25

March 1867

Your dreams have been odd, Sephi. I know you don’t like it when I visit them, but being here I think of you constantly. Rocks, sand, and soil? What are you looking for? Are you thinking of Paradise, too? I do think our connection is something neither of us can control. Why else would our minds be so open to one another?

Don’t worry about my confusion. I just need to exercise my mind a bit more. I wish I had an ancestry to guide me.

I tried to get some answers from the Darwins and DeLyres since they both have such substantial history here, but the card game last night was a debacle. I knew it wasn’t a good idea for Ben DeLyre to invite his brother, Leo. The boy is more of a nob than anyone I’ve ever encountered. Technically, it isn’t cheating when I toss my cards under the table. If no one else notices, I believe it is their fault, not mine. Leo caught on towards the end of the night and began a tirade about morality. Gave me quite the headache.

Leo DeLyre asked about you several times. I think you have an admirer.

Eviar

* * *

Ellington couldn’t stop beaming. Ardor Westfall had seemed impressed with his findings. He struggled to steady himself on the bumpy path back through the trees, precariously balancing a stack of thick folders stuffed with his uncle’s precious records.

“Ellington!” He heard her voice and his heart skipped a beat. For a moment, he thought it was her, but he should have known better. Of course it was only Alex. Why was she awake so early?

“Ellington!” she bellowed again.

Without slowing his speed, he peeked over his shoulder. She was right behind him. There was no escaping. He tried to sound jovial. “Alex, hello! How are you?”

“I’m fine! What are you doing? Why were our last few sessions cancelled? Not that I’m complaining. No offense.” She quickly held up a hand. “You know I hate therapy.”

“Oh!” He did his best to hide the folders in his arms. He’d exited through the back door in order to avoid seeing anyone. “I’ve been asked to do a bit of research, I’m afraid. It isn’t usually my responsibility, but the mission falls under my area of expertise.”

“What are you researching?” Alex asked breathlessly.

“Oh,” Ellington said with a start. “Um … ” Not your mother, he almost blurted out. He’d been skirting around Alex’s questions about Erin since the poor girl arrived here. How do you tell a child that her mother was hunted like an outlaw with a price on her head?

“What is it? Paradise?”

This girl was behaving more and more like her mother every day. How did she hear about that?

“Er … why?”

“I read about it.” She shrugged. “And it’s written there on your folders.”

Ellington shifted the folders, but it was no use hiding the labels now. “I have been asked to take a look at it, yes.”

Alex’s eyes lit up. “It’s a city, right?”

She sounded so hopeful, and Ellington wondered why. She should be terrified of Paradise. “Not quite.”

“Oh. What is it, then?”

Drat, thought Ellington. How was he going to get out of this one? For a second he considered running away like a scared child. He adjusted his folders and sighed. He could give her pieces of the truth. He would just have to sieve it a bit. “I suppose people call it a city, but spirits do not make the choice to live there.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Paradise is a prison.” He absorbed Alex’s shocked expression. “My uncle Crete Reynes was also a psychologist, and often he traveled to Paradise to help the inmates. The prisoners tend to be rather extraordinary spirits, but they don’t really have it all together up here.” He pointed to his head. “Paradise is a place for them to get help and repent their actions.”

“A prison?” Alex began to fumble with the strings on her sweater. “Did you by chance ever know of anyone named Eviar?”

Ellington noticed relief on Alex’s face when he shook his head. “No, I’ve never heard that name before.”

“Oh,” Alex said slowly. “So, why are people suddenly interested in Paradise?”

He let out a little laugh. “No one is interested. Why would you think that?”

“Because you told me. Just now. You’ve been asked to research it.”

Darn my big mouth, Ellington thought, perplexed. “Yes, I suppose I did.” He balanced the stack of folders in one hand and swiped at his glossy hair with another. If he were human, he’d be sweating bullets. He’d been given explicit instructions not to give Alex any information that would put her in harm’s way. Such things had led to her mother’s demise, so they’d chosen a different tactic for Alex. “The people who end up there are typically very talented. Often, their profiles are researched to see if they can be of some service. At one point, the government sent Van Hanlin and my uncle to evaluate the inmates for release to help with the war. Although they were useful to the city, they also secretly terrorized it with what they thought were harmless jokes. Pranks.”

He used the last word carefully, and she seemed to understand. “You think those inmates never went back to Paradise?” she asked.

“No, they certainly never went back. They were recruited to help fight during the Restructuring, but they were on the losing side of the battle. They were all killed.”

“So then what is there to research?”

“Other inmates. Pranks aren’t unusual in the city of Paradise. The inmates need something to do, and according to the guards, they channel their creativity into practical jokes and such.”

“You think some more were recently released?”

“According to the Patrol, no. But I’m looking into it.”

Alex nodded. “But you’ve never heard of someone named Eviar?”

Ellington wondered why she was so sure this was someone’s name. “No. Never.”

She nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Thank you for talking to me, Ellington.”

“No problem.” Ellington was very happy to end the conversation.

“Is your uncle still alive?”

“No, unfortunately he isn’t. His job was rather dangerous. He had to speak to those spirits, to counsel them. There was risk that he would uncover things that others wanted to keep a secret. He practically walked around with a bull’s-eye on his back.” Ellington turned to leave.

“If all those inmates are gone, why would he have been targeted?” she called after him.

“Why indeed,” he muttered.

26

June 1867

Dear Sephi,

I was too cowardly to admit to you earlier that I saw something in your thoughts, but something tells me that you already knew that. Were you aware that I was there in your mind?

I know you worry about my friends. I have to admit that at times I do, too. What they consider to be “harmless fun” is often not harmless at all. If I hadn’t intervened last week, there’s no telling how long that cluricaun would have been hanging from its ankles in the courtyard. No one likes a cluricaun, especially one that has been drinking, but regardless, the last thing this town needs is bad luck.

I don’t know why it has been so difficult to control myself recently. I regrettably admit that a part of me wants to lose control because it is then that I feel the most powerful. When I’m involved with Gideon’s hijinks, the nerves spark something within me. Could the plague of my temper, or my anxiety, my emotions, be what makes me so extraordinary?

* * *

“Why do you care so much?” Chase asked. “Just out of curiosity.”

Why did she care so much? It was a good question. The letters had nothing to do with Alex, but she felt addicted to them. And perhaps the letters were drawn to her as well. Sometimes she would go to sleep with the box tucked away in the corner, and she’d awaken in the middle of the night to find it halfway across the room, inching its way towards her.

Whoever Eviar was, his talents were unmatched. He could control things with his mind so well that it made Alex wonder if his magic had leaked out into his writing. In one letter, he explained how he had silently willed half the students in Duvall’s class to fall asleep mid-lecture and how hilarious it was to watch their heads drop like victims of the guillotine. Duvall had been infuriated.

He had not been successful, however, in forcing spirits to go completely against their will. For instance, he could not manage to make Professor Duvall stop glaring at him, or to get his friends to stop cabbaging—stealing—for sport, or to force his classmate and rival Leo DeLyre to make a fool of himself.

So, who was Eviar? She needed to know. Did he ever find his family? Did he and Sephi end up safe together?

“Are you ignoring me?” Chase asked.

Classes had finished for the day, and Alex tried not to gawk at Chase’s perfectly chiseled form sprawled out on her bed. His mind had forgotten to project him into a shirt. “I’m sorry. What did you say again?”

“Does it matter who this guy is? I’m just wondering why you’re so obsessed.”

“Obsessed?” Alex asked defensively.

“It’s just the idea that this kid violates minds, and people don’t even know it. It’s creepy. And he’s kind of an ass.”

“You of all people shouldn’t judge someone for being in another person’s head.”

Chase offered a crooked grin.

“Besides, he’s not making them do anything bad. It’s pretty funny. And you might be interested to know that he mentioned an interrogation at the Dual Tower, but he said they called it an interview.”

Chase perked up. “Really? Anything about colors or someone transcribing?”

“No, he went on and on about Paradise.”

“Like Adam and Eve Paradise?”

“No dummy, like an underground city Paradise. Well, detainment center Paradise. This Eviar guy wanted to find it to keep Sephi safe. He just didn’t know it wasn’t a real city.”

“Why would he need to do that?”

“Because for some reason he thought she was in danger. Her relatives were killed. Maybe she was a witch or something, because in one of the letters, he mentioned that hunters were tracking her.”

Chase adjusted the pillow under his head. “Toss me one.”

“What?”

“One of the letters. I want to see.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded. Alex eagerly searched for the box, which had been next to her bed but was now hiding underneath her desk. She crossed the room and ducked down to give the box a scolding look before extracting a letter. “Here.”

Chase sat up and the muscles in his arms rippled and settled like a wave. Stop staring, Alex told herself. Then she froze, wondering if he had heard her. When a playful grin spread across Chase’s face, their eyes met, and Alex knew she was busted.

“Stare away.”

Alex snatched a pillow and threw it at his face with a little too much force.

“Now you’re in trouble,” he said, scooping up the pillow.

Alex was already cornered. Chase had the pillow gripped tightly in his hands, blocking her from any escape. She tried to fake a cut to the right and leap to the left, but Chase shoved at the air around her, and the energy of it threw her flat on her face. Chase burst into laughter. Alex swiped violently at the space nearest to his ankles, satisfied when it pulled his feet from under him, and he fell backwards to the ground.

“Now who’s laughing?” Alex asked, but Chase spun over top of her, pinning her down and swiping the pillow across her face. The seams exploded and feathers flew into the air like birds freed from a cage.

“My pillow!” she cried.

He mimicked her in a squeaky voice. “My pillow!”

Alex pretended to scowl. “You are totally going to give me one of your pillows,” she ordered him.

“Oh, am I? Are you going to make me?” he said, inching toward the bed. He grabbed another pillow.

“Don’t you dare,” she growled.

“You’re much more fun now that you’re not a china doll anymore.”

“Shut up.” She flung her arm toward the pile of books on the nightstand, and the force of it nearly knocked him from his feet. As he caught his balance, she was able to snatch the pillow from his hand.

“How did you get to be so strong?”

She didn’t buy his peaceful tone or his flattery for a minute, and predictably, he pushed against the air between them. She wobbled but reacted quickly, retaliating with her own hands outstretched.

Stuck there in a battle of flirtation and stubbornness, Chase smiled and curled his fingers, clasping the energy between them. An outsider might think they were in the midst of some formal dance, staring each other down in a rainstorm of white feathers.

“Say I win,” Chase whispered, tightening his grip on the charge that zinged between their palms. She could feel the pressure of it.

“I win.”

“Not what I meant.”

Alex tried to push him away. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him. If she had, she would have seen the walls trembling. “Why are you breathing so hard?”

“You take my breath away,” Chase joked.

“That’s fine. You don’t need it.”

“I hear old habits die hard.” One side of his mouth curled flirtatiously, and he stepped closer to her. He grasped her hand, sending shockwaves through her being. They locked eyes and Chase ever so slightly wetted his lips. The intensity of his gaze generated crackles in the space between them.

She stood. And waited. Until the moment passed, and she knew he wasn’t going to act on what they both wanted to do. The relationship was even more agonizing than it had been in life. “Don’t you need to get to the fields? You’re going to be late for your game.”

He scrunched up his face, pretending to be offended. Instantly, a loose lacrosse jersey covered his torso. “You don’t want me here?”

No, because I don’t understand you at all, she wanted to say. “Are you going like that?” She waved her hand up and down. “What’s with the dirty clothes?”

“I’m going to run around in the dirt.” He shrugged. “I don’t blame my mind for projecting it onto my shirt.”

“So if you envisioned a space suit, that’s what you’d wear?”

“I suppose.”

“Okay then, I dare you to go to the field wearing a space suit,” she said, tossing his bag to him.

“What do I get if I win the dare?”

“Respect.”

He blew through his lips. “Puh.”

“What? My respect isn’t worth anything?”

Chase let out a soft laugh and bent down to tie his muddy shoes, which somehow he hadn’t tied in his mind.

Alex made a disgusted face. “Those things are filthy.”

“I’m not exactly rolling around in feathers out there, am I?”

Alex laughed. “You could take some of these,” she said, gesturing to the feathers that covered the floor “That would be interesting.”

“And very manly.”

“Girls play out there, too.”

“Yeah, yeah. Do you want to walk to the stadium with me?”

Alex shook her head. “I have a lot of work to do, and the stadium is distracting.”

“And that”—he pointed to the box of letters peeking out from under the desk to watch the show—“isn’t distracting at all.” He picked up the letter he’d meant to read before and opened it, turning it over several times. “Is this a joke?”

“What?”

“There’s nothing written here.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m serious.”

This was probably a trick, a diversion so he could pin her to the ground again. She inched towards him gingerly.

He held up his hands in surrender. “Truce. I’m not kidding.”

She took the letter from him and started reading aloud. “January eighteen sixty-six. Dear Sephi, I hate to admit weakness, but you have completely taken over my mind … ” She held up the letter. “Clear as day.”

“Alex, I don’t see anything.”

She realized he was serious. She folded the letter, tucked it back into its place, and pulled out a new one, double-checking that the writing was there. “What about now?”

“Nothing.” he said with a shrug.

“You honestly can’t see it?” She thought she heard the box sigh in exasperation, and she whipped her head around to glare at it. Chase kissed her softly on the forehead, like it was completely normal that she could see something that he couldn’t. Then he left her alone with her confusion. And the box.

August 1867

Dear Sephi,

I wish I had access to what you are seeing in your thoughts, but the window has become clouded. This is your doing, I suppose. You have never been allowed any extent of privacy, so I will console myself by assuming you need some privacy in your own mind. When you initially admitted that maybe the holes in my mind are because of you, I was beside myself. But the instances when I can’t control my emotions are the same instances when my mind doesn’t feel like it’s my own. And I become this way when the situation involves you. So maybe it’s time to put some distance between us. The last thing you need is more attention, since your fame is worldwide, and my antics have not exactly been kept quiet.

Please know that no matter what happens, my feelings for you will never change, but I feel like I need to do this for us. I have hope that Paradise truly is a place to keep those with talents safe. I have hope that maybe those spirits might know more about me. And if that’s the case, then I need to go find Paradise.

Go? He was leaving Eidolon? But, the story wasn’t over. Alex had barely read half the letters.

Dear Sephi,

Against my better judgment, I continue to write to you during my journey. I will be enslaved by my thoughts unless I free them somehow. Thus, as dangerous as the written word may be, I have reached a point of desperation. I write these words faithfully to you and only you. And I thank you for being my deliverance.

Perhaps my most significant accomplishment thus far has been securing the opportunity to practice my talents without the Dual Tower to report to. I need to learn to distinguish the difference between what is real and what I imagine. And if I imagine it, can I make it reality, or is it already so?

At first we encountered only the bodied along the course of our travels, and so I was unable to practice manipulation tactics. There’s no game involved. But I’ve recently found a large group on which to practice. You’d be shocked to discover how beneficial a banshee fight can be when searching for hidden strengths. When stretching the boundaries of mental endurance, perhaps it is best to face something, or someone, with nothing to lose.

Alex couldn’t wrap her mind around the idea that Eviar had actually left. Why would he leave Sephi? She reached into the depths of the box for the very last letter, skipping over mounds of weathered envelopes she had yet to open, tied together tightly like mended pieces of a broken dream.

My Dearest Sephi,

My mind is a blessed asset and a malignant curse. In the past few decades, I have trodden down a fresh path, revolutionizing the extent to which our mind power can bend, no matter the sacrifice. I have opened doors through which no one would have ventured had it not been for my abilities and tolerance. And alas, my memory depletes. I am finding day by day that my memory no longer permits me to revisit much of the journey that brought me here. I don’t understand, but I wonder often since our minds are linked, has the information leaked to you? Doubtful.

Why are there so many wretched holes in my mind? I have asserted that most likely the abilities and deterioration are dependent upon one another. Is this the cost of what I’ve conditioned myself to do?

Is that why you cannot seem to find me? I know you are hunting me. I’ve felt you elbow your way into my mind a time or two. Did it frighten you when I attempted to grab your elbow when it interrupted my thoughts? Is Westfall with you, too? Are you even trying? Surely if you gave it your all, you’d be waltzing through my door at this very moment.

I wish for that.

I am aware of the threat these written words may present. What else could be so binding, so incriminating? I do not want to forget the road that I’ve traveled both dead and alive. Mainly, I cannot forget that you are my purpose. I realize that without you, without these words, I irretrievably forfeit my sanity, but regardless, when the time is right I must dispose of your letters. You are already a target. You believe you are the hunter, when really you are the hunted.

Do you know what I’ve learned? That we make our own way. We make our own fate. I’ve been chasing things that were already mine before the journey. I’ve built what I intended, finally, but I sacrificed my mind. I sacrificed you. And I sacrificed time. That is the most valuable thing.

And time isn’t on my side. I cannot find enough room to accommodate the memories of others in addition to my own. I once reveled in the fact that I was finding gift after gift, strength after strength. But now something is harming my mind. Can you see it? Perhaps if you are willing to open your thoughts to mine again, you would see what is

Alex gasped as the ink on the page rippled and then vanished. What happened? Where did it go? She flipped over the letter. Bare. She snatched up another letter. Bare. And another. And another. What was going on? She frantically thumbed through the box until she was back to the beginning.

November 1865

Dear Sephi,

Professor Melbourne is late for the morning session as usual …

She snatched up a letter in the middle of the stack. The ink remained. Why were only some of the letters now blank? She glowered at the box, which now had its back to her. Seriously? Was it punishing her for trying to share the letters with Chase?

And then it occurred to her that if the ink didn’t reappear, she would never know the ending. This was all she was going to get to read. She had been hoping for Eviar to have a happy ending, to prove that true love really can conquer all.

But her hope for him had vanished like the words on the yellowed page.

27

Alex was desperate to read the rest of the letters, but that stubborn black box had zipped its lips tight. She figured there was one person who might be able to help her. The next morning, Alex perched on a desk with Skye, waiting for their ABC assignment. Duvall cursed under her breath, squinting at the bottom of a list.

“What is it?” Skye asked, setting down a large white stone the size of a human skull.

“I forgot to tell Matthew to add bathroom mold to his list.”

“He’ll be just thrilled about that,” Skye remarked, and Alex thought she caught a tinge of amusement flicker across Duvall’s face.

“Skye, could you please chase down his group and inform them of my little addition?”

Skye didn’t look like she wanted to be the bearer of bad news. “Uh, sure.”

Alex focused on the shelved jars, eavesdropping over the room like birds on a wire, and pretended not to see Skye’s signal for her to follow. She waited a few moments and then sidled closer to Duvall. “Professor?”

“Hmm?” Duvall didn’t look up.

“I have a question.”

“Obviously.”

“It’s about a kind of ink.” Above her head, the hanging test tubes clinked and clanked. “Have you ever heard of writing that can disappear?”

“My dear, I believe that toy is older than you are. You can find it at any joke store, I’m sure.”

“No, this would have been long before joke stores existed. And it’s weird because, well, not everyone can see it … ” Alex stopped speaking when a look of warning clouded her teacher’s face.

Duvall used a pair of tongs to hold a crucible over a green flame. “Sounds like make believe.”

“If Thymoserum tricks the mind into forgetting something, I just inferred there’d be something counteractive, something that could make things appear to the mind.”

“That sort of magic isn’t something spirits can create. A mind must be trained to open up to such extensive levels of visibility.”

Alex eyed the murky goo inside the bowl. “Can someone who isn’t a spirit create it?”

“Do I have to say it, since you already know the answer?”

Alex shook her head, knowing full well this was witchcraft, yet she supposed a part of her had hoped that Eviar wasn’t involved with that. Was witchcraft the reason why he was so powerful? She longed to ask Duvall but avoided bringing up the name of someone whom Duvall had despised. “How could one person see something that another couldn’t?”

“Because of you. If the writing is meant for you to read, only you can see it.”

“But it wasn’t written for me. It disappeared right in front of me.”

“All of it?”

“No.”

“It’s a glitch, then.” Duvall placed the crucible on a ring and stared down at the contents. The silvery substance levitated as one large mass and then broke into a dozen globs, each of which landed in a vial.

“A glitch? Can that happen?”

Duvall’s face twisted into a hint of a sneer. “Only if the person who wrote it didn’t know what they were doing.”

* * *

That evening, when the door to her room swung open with a resounding bang, Alex wondered whose presence needed to be announced so violently. After spending most of the evening staring daggers at the unyielding black box and cursing the blank paper inside, she didn’t feel like having company.

She stepped out into the hallway and faced the engraved caption of Kender Federive. In place of the mirror, the large frame displayed an image of Kender fighting the banshee in the clearing. It had appeared to Alex after the night of the attack. She glanced downward, and the last person she expected to see was curled underneath the empty copper frame of Sonja F. Rellingsworth.

“Jonas? What are you doing here?”

He looked up, and when his eyes reached her they seemed to soften. “Hey,” he murmured. “I just wanted to see you.”

Alex was blunt. “Why?”

“Why not?”

She was too distracted to care about tact. “Because you’re Jonas. And you haven’t really spoken to me in weeks.” She took a seat on the floor beside him. “Why is that? Why do you always have to put on such a tough act?”

He remained quiet for several moments. “I’m not so tough. I just don’t wear my heart on my sleeve.” He leaned his head against the wall. “Like some other people.” He reached for her hand and flipped it over to run his finger along her palm.

Alex stared down at it, remembering how she used to analyze the lines, wondering why her life line was so long if her future was so bleak. Seeing it now, she knew it was only a projection her mind had created, but it was funny how the lines of her palm were frayed, a warning that life would try to rip at her seams.

“Do you remember that day we skipped school and went to the carnival at Earleigh Heights?” Jonas asked.

Alex nodded. All five of them planned to cut class that day, since it was the final day of the fair. Gabe, ever studious, opted out to take a quiz that morning; Kaleb’s flavor-of-the-week had convinced him to go elsewhere; and Chase couldn’t slip past the school’s strictest teacher. Alex and Jonas had been the only ones to escape to the carnival.

Alex stretched her legs in front of her. “I remember you let me drive. You were the only person who would ever have let me do something crazy like that.”

Jonas fought a smile. ”You’re a horrible driver.”

“No kidding.” Alex had barely been able to reach the pedals of the station wagon. The massive steering wheel had blocked her view of the rain-slick road. To make matters worse, they’d taken a twisting back road to avoid getting caught. Unfavorable odds, even for a good driver.

Alex had been tentative until Jonas barked at her: “Quit living like you’re already dead!” No one spoke to her like that. “Just live.”

She’d pressed her foot against the gas pedal as hard as she wanted to kick Jonas, and the car roared in response. With the windows down, the rain soaked them, but they didn’t care. Jonas never scolded her when the tires squealed. He never told her to slow down. He merely turned up the music. Alex had never felt such freedom before.

“Remember that funhouse?”

Alex nodded again. It was full of mirrors that made them look skinny, wiggly, chubby, all sorts of distorted. “I remember being scared,” she admitted. “It was disorienting.”

“But you know, I remember standing in front of those mirrors and thinking that no matter how warped my image was, yours always seemed clear. And your hand in mine just felt right.”

Alex watched him in bewilderment. “Jonas, you’ve had people trying to reach for your hand your whole life, and you smack them away.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” His tone was so hostile Alex could taste his resentment in her mouth like she’d bitten into a lime.

“Then help me to. I’m listening.”

“Anything I do, they do it better. Anything I want, they get it first.”

“What do you mean?”

Jonas shook his head and stood up. Alex followed suit. Arguing with him was a lost cause, and she was too tired to unlock the chains around his ego. But for some reason, the door to her room didn’t open. Evidently, she wasn’t supposed to go in yet. Then she noticed that Jonas had stopped in the middle of the hallway, staring back at her. “What?” she demanded.

“He kept you to himself for sixteen years, Alex. And he never even acted on it.”

So that’s what this was about.

“Have you ever even considered the possibility of someone else?” he added.

And then, the door to her room swung open with ease. Alex stumbled into the darkness, half expecting Chase to be waiting there. The lights came on to reveal an empty room, but she could have sworn she saw a figure disappearing from her balcony. A new pillow waited on her bed, and the room she’d neglected to clean that week was now free of feathers. She ran to the balcony but found no one. And Chase never came back to her room that night.

* * *

As children, the Lasalles would frequently gallivant around town playing out their own rendition of cops and robbers. Although the boys adopted interchangeable roles, Alex was typecast as the damsel in distress. The dramatic theatrics of screaming for help and pretending to faint were exciting at first, but one day she changed her mind. Following a debate during which Kaleb failed to convince Chase that Alex couldn’t be a robber, Gabe finally swayed the vote. Jonas had scowled, and Kaleb had thrown his hands into the air while Chase and Alex shared defiant grins.

In the midst of the heist, the plan went awry. Officer Gabe apprehended and arrested Kaleb in the Parrish shopping center, and Officers Jonas and Chase were detained by batty old Mrs. Morrison in the Hallmark store for waving their toy guns outside her window. Alex seized the opportunity to retrieve the loot from the trash can where Kaleb had stashed it. The filthy sack of “treasure” reeked of rotten onion rings and mayonnaise, but it was gold to Alex, and she clutched the neck of the bag so fiercely that her knuckles turned bleach white.

She was going to win.

She reached the old grandfather tree that Kaleb had designated to be home base and searched for something to hang the bag from the thick trunk. It was then that she felt a cold object jabbing her in between her shoulder blades.

“Pass over the loot, you crook,” Jonas commanded, pushing the barrel of his Nerf gun into her back.

Alex cursed loudly and spun around to face him with her hands in the air, still gripping the treasure tightly.

“Not smiling now, are you?” Jonas said. His cheeks turned pink with excitement.

“How did you know we’d take the treasure here?” Alex choked out in an attempt to buy time.

“Kaleb hasn’t won here yet,” Jonas replied, pointing to the old tree with his free hand. At that point, the trunk bore the tattoos of only three sets of initials: GML, JML, and CML. The Lasalles always marked their territory.

It was then that Alex heard a click.

“Put the gun down,” a new voice ordered. The barrel of another toy gun appeared from behind the grandfather tree. Jonas’s eyes widened first in disbelief and then in anger when Chase emerged from behind it.

“What are you doing?” Jonas gasped. “You’re supposed to be my partner!”

Chase smiled. “I’m secretly in cahoots.”

“Those aren’t the rules.”

“Since when do we follow rules?”

Jonas’s jaw jutted out and swayed. His cheeks flushed.

“Come on. You always find loopholes when it comes to boundaries. You should have seen this coming.”

Jonas pouted. “But I should win. You’re going to choose her over me?”

“Yes,” Chase said matter-of-factly. And he handed Alex his Swiss army knife to mark her victory.

28

Since both Chase and Jonas were avoiding her, Alex was hesitant to spend so much time at the ball fields, but when she wandered around campus, she’d find herself there anyway. She remained on the outskirts of the stands with her homework, looking up occasionally to watch them. It was the perfect hiding spot until Jack Bond showed up one night.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Detention. Duvall punishes me at least once a week. Believe me when I say this is much better than scrubbing the floors of her classroom.”

Alex was mortified. “Does she make you do that a lot?”

Jack nodded and extended his arms to either side like an airplane, balancing on one of the benches. He pivoted and began to walk away.

“Where are you going?”

“To get an Ex. Then I’ll go to the far end of the fields by the skate park. Reuben should already be over there.”

“Your little sidekick,” Alex said, standing up and gathering her things. “I’ll come help you.”

At the Ex kiosk, the vendor slid the cups across the counter, avoiding Jack’s touch. The boy regarded Jack with the same disgustful expression Alex had received when she was dying. In the final months of her life, she became a skeleton. Even the other loony patients at the institution stared in revulsion at her sunken appearance.

“Thank you.” Jack said, either oblivious to the rude treatment or ignoring it. He ordered an Ex for Reuben, as well.

“What did Reuben do to land cleanup duty?”

Jack frowned. “I think he volunteered.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I think he does it just to get out. He doesn’t have a lot of friends.”

“Maybe he should resign as president of the ‘I heart Jack Bond’ club, and then more people would want to hang around him.”

Jack handed her two cups. “He’s trying to fit in.”

“The only things he’s trying to fit in are your shoes.”

Jack always denied the worship that Reuben exhibited towards him. “People would like him if they tried.”

“You might be right—that is, if he’d actually talk to someone besides you and Calla.” Earlier that week, Alex had attempted to sit with Reuben at the Ex House. He’d regarded her scornfully, swept up his books, and stomped away. He’d left Alex sitting there, dumbfounded.

When they reached the skate park, a small maze of half-pipes, railings, and ramps, Alex was happy to find that from this area of the fields she had a clear view of the games. If she couldn’t be there with the Lasalles, at least she could watch them. The game of choice that night was soccer, Gabe’s favorite, and no sooner had she begun to search the faces of the players when she saw him skidding across one of the fields, sliding to save a ball from the goal. Her stare must have nudged at him because Gabe stopped to glance over his shoulder in her direction. She spun around and faced Jack.

“So, what are you supposed to be doing?”

Jack pointed to a ball of paper on the ground. “Cleaning. We take care of any littering or sticks or leaves.”

“That sounds easy enough.”

Alex searched for a place to set down the drinks and spotted Reuben on the ground, crawling around on all fours like a bloodhound sniffing for clues. He certainly seemed to be taking his job seriously. He noticed Alex, but didn’t acknowledge her until he found Jack.

“Hey!” he shouted a little too enthusiastically. It was like he’d been caught doing something wrong. He itched his neck furiously.

“We brought you a drink,” Jack said. “And stop scratching.”

Reuben scrambled to his feet. His round cheeks puffed into a grin. He grabbed the drink from Alex without a word to her.

She gave Jack a sardonic glance. “Do you guys ever play the games?”

“I’ve never really been one for organized sports,” Jack admitted, lifting a hand to shield the lights from the stadium. “I was always picked last in gym class.”

“But that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t be good at it here.”

“And give those guys an excuse to pound me into the dirt? No thanks.”

Her eyes were drawn to a vacant area of the field moments before Chase appeared from nowhere, using his body as a roadblock to send a boy and the ball catapulting through the air. She wondered about the legality of such aggression, but the referee didn’t blow his whistle. No wonder the Lasalles loved the games. Kaleb leaped up to retrieve the ball, scissor-kicking it downfield to another teammate.

Alex leaned down to pick up an empty cup and tossed it into a trash bag. “You’re a mover, Jack,” she realized aloud. “Why don’t you just pick up all this trash with your mind?”

“I can’t because Calla isn’t here.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Jack’s brow furrowed. “It’s a twin thing, I guess. I can’t really do much without her.”

“Is that why your sister is so quiet?”

“I wouldn’t call her quiet so much as … ” He searched for the right word. “Cautious. She’s paranoid about what people are going to do to her. Spirits around here are lemmings and just follow the Darwins. We have to watch our backs.”

“But you aren’t afraid of the Darwins,” Alex said. “It seems like you ignore them pretty well.”

“The Darwin family has a substantial history here, a history with powerful spirits who still hold office in Eidolon.”

“Aren’t you a multigenerational family too?”

“Sure, we’re as blue blooded as they are, maybe even more so, but you don’t see them inviting us to their little get-togethers, do you? We have much different histories.”

Alex opened the bag to dispose of a bit of paper but stopped when she noticed the writing scrawled across the top: “Initiation.” Alex scanned the page.

“What are you looking at?”

Alex turned the paper so he could see the checklist. She blinked several times to be sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her. But she read:

1. Worthiness

2. Notable trickery

3. Battle the insane

4. Harrowing

Alex looked up at Jack. “What is harrowing?”

“I have no idea.”

“Battle the insane,” she read again. Her eyes drifted to the top of the page. “This says initiation. What do you think this is?”

Jack sniffed. “Honestly, if it was important, do you really think some idiot would leave it lying around?”

Initiation. There were so many little cliques on campus, and it could be any of them. Alex had even heard that the newburies in Duvall’s ABC club used to haze new members.

“Trickery,” Alex said loudly. “That’s the pranks. And the insane? Does that mean banshees?” A thought occurred to her. “Is that why Duvall’s stock of bladderwort was stolen?”

Jack dropped his bag and trash littered the ground at his feet. “How did you know about that?”

“Skye told me.” She studied Jack skeptically. “How do you know about that?”

“Please don’t hate me.” He wrapped his spaghetti arms around his face. “I was partially responsible for that altercation between you and the banshee in Moribund. I didn’t know the flowers would attract banshees when they were concealed.”

“Flowers?”

He peeked through his arms. “Bladderwort flowers. I took them from Duvall.”

“You stole them?” Alex pointed to the list. “Are you a part of this?”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Who would invite a Bond into anything important enough to need initiation requirements? If for some odd reason that”—he pointed to the note—“is not a joke, I have nothing to do with it.”

“Then why would you take Duvall’s flowers?”

He laughed coldly. “Because I hate the woman, Alex. Every spare second of her afterlife, she is either trying to embarrass me or she’s sending me to detention. I knew she was going to need the flowers for an upcoming lesson, so Calla and I stole them to get her back for punishing us all the time.” He glanced at Alex apologetically and then diverted his attention to his toes. “And banshees don’t live around here, so I didn’t think anything bad would happen.”

Alex crossed her arms. “How did you steal the flowers?”

He shrugged. “It was easy. She was always making us clean her classroom. We didn’t know the flowers would be so obvious, though. They aren’t your average flowers. They’re giant and bright yellow. We threw them in a backpack to try to keep them hidden.”

Alex felt her stomach do a swan dive. Bright yellow flowers in a backpack? She’d seen that before. No wonder Jonas’s backpack had stunk like a rotten bog that night at the Ex House. It had been filled with swamp flowers.

Initiation … initiation …Was Jonas trying to become a part of some group on campus? It made sense. He would be free of his brothers.

“Should we show that to someone?” Jack offered, pointing to the paper.

“No,” she said firmly. “I’ll hold on to it.” At least until she could speak with Ellington again.

“Are you sure?”

Alex nodded, thinking the note might come in handy if she confronted Jonas. Jonas and his backpack of yellow flowers.

29

Chase continued to avoid Alex during the next few days, and she had no clue why. She searched the campus, the Ex House, and the fields, but they all led to dead ends. She couldn’t hear anything in his head, and if she tried, the fortress around his mind only tightened. After class, she was trudging back to Brigitta when she spotted Gabe sitting at a table in the courtyard, and everything that was bothering her imploded. “Well, you are just the guy I needed to see.”

Gabe pretended to look scared, but he didn’t look up from what he was reading. “Uh oh.”

“Would you get your nose out of that book? I know why you’ve been so worried about Jonas,” Alex exclaimed loudly. “And I can’t believe you didn’t tell your brothers what he’s been up to!”

Gabe yanked her down onto the bench beside him. “Geez, Alex, could you be any louder?” He glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve known all along that Jonas was up to something. What’s he doing? Is he trying to weasel his way into the legacy group or something? I found the flowers in his backpack. The ones missing from Duvall’s stockroom? The ones that attract banshees! He let us all think he was a hero when really the attack was his fault!”

Suddenly, sunglasses appeared over Gabe’s eyes. Alex felt so angry that he was trying to hide something from her that she snatched them from his face.

“Easy, Alex. He didn’t use the flowers.”

“I know it’s for an initiation or whatever, and you’re probably well aware because you always know everything. And you’ve kept such a close eye on Jonas recently.”

“All right, sleuth.”

“This isn’t a joke. Why didn’t you tell your brothers? Why haven’t you told me?”

“Look, you know how badly Jonas wants to make something of himself. If Kaleb knew about it, he’d figure out a way in. And that’s exactly what Jonas doesn’t want.”

“And what about you?”

“You know that Kaleb and I don’t necessarily think the same way.”

“What about Chase?”

“Chase is so close with Kaleb he would probably tell him what’s going on.”

Alex couldn’t argue with that. “Is it the legacies?”

“I don’t know.”

It couldn’t be Duvall’s earthly kids, the way Jonas ridiculed them. He wasn’t a depressed choker or one of the movers. But ancestry and fighting were two things the Darwins favored.

“I’ve checked it out,” Gabe said. “On paper, it seems fine. They’re a bit rebellious but harmless. So do both of us a favor and keep quiet about it for a while. There’s something in it for you, after all.”

“What do you mean?”

“If Jonas is a part of some exclusive group, something that will get him ahead, he won’t care so much about you and Chase.”

Alex slouched in her seat. Why did Gabe have to be so damn smart?

Gabe traced the lettering on his book. “I need you to keep this a secret, Alex. Chase can’t know.”

She couldn’t deny that something about it felt wrong. “You really think the group is fine?”

“The requirement wasn’t to have the banshee attack someone else. They were supposed to face it themselves. I’ve read plenty about initiations, and their list isn’t anything drastic. A lot of the smaller cities even list requirements or initiate spirits before they can live there. Please just don’t tell Chase.”

“I wouldn’t be able to tell him even if I wanted to. He’s been avoiding me.”

“I figured he was off with you.”

“You haven’t seen him either?”

Gabe shook his head.

“He’s mad about all this, I know it.”

“All the more reason for us to let Jonas do this quietly. Let him have this. One time,” Gabe said softly, “let him actually win.”

* * *

Lazuli Street was decked out in holiday cheer. Not the kind Alex had been accustomed to in life, however. She had learned in Madame Paleo’s history class that spirits celebrate the winter solstice, the longest night of the year. It was yet another excuse to have a party. Decorated sunstones lined the streets while umbrellas of white lights clustered like clouds overhead. Garland accompanied the ivy on the lampposts, and snow speckled the lollipop trees and shops. It had yet to actually flurry in the city, so Alex questioned how fake snow could feel cold to the touch. “Didn’t you expect it to be cold?” Skye had scoffed when Alex voiced her surprise.

No, she didn’t expect any of this, and so she chose to explore the city alone one afternoon. She still didn’t prefer to be by herself, but at least she was able to absorb the magic of what the imagination could create without being told what to see. She had nearly reached the end of Lazuli Street when warped music flooded her ears. She couldn’t tell if the music leaked from the cracks of the last door on the street with a rickety sign that read Stauffer’s Pub, or if the music was indeed spilling into her mind from Chase’s thoughts as she suspected.

The old wooden door swung aside before she could even think to push it open. The first thing Alex noticed was an extremely low ceiling. If she were to stretch her hands above her head, they would graze the boards. It smelled a bit like a basement—the good kind full of old treasures. At the far right corner of the bar, she found Chase.

Alex almost didn’t want to disturb him. She considered turning and running out the door. Even without reading his thoughts, she could feel his dejection. He had his right elbow on the bar, running his fingers through his hair. The other hand was a clutching a drink, which he swirled absently. She came to a stop behind him. “You look like an old man.”

As he turned, his wrinkled brow smoothed and his tightly set lips turned up slightly. “Guess I can’t hide from you, huh?”

“Guess not,” Alex said, pulling up a stool. She leaned in close to him. “How did you get in here?”

He let out a little laugh and his blue eyes twinkled. What was in that drink?

“When are you going to realize we’re dead? Age is irrelevant now. Besides, this is a Cluricaun bar. They invented alcohol, and this stuff”—he pointed to his drink—“was made for spirits anyway. It’s more like a stronger version of Ex.”

“How come no one hangs out here?”

“It’s not exactly lively.”

Maybe that’s what she liked about it. Alex followed Chase’s gaze to the man who was haphazardly wiping the bar with a dirty dishrag. He noticed Alex and raised his bushy eyebrows.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Sure.” Alex peered into Chase’s glass. “Whatever he’s having.”

“Deribatine Ale. Coming up.”

Chase leaned his temple against his fist and grinned adoringly at Alex.

“How much have you had?”

“Doesn’t matter. But are you willing to catch up?”

“I never back down from a challenge. You know that.” Alex rubbed her hands together.

Stauffer returned with a coaster and a small glass shaped like a boot. He placed them in front of Alex, and when she took a sniff, she winced at the pungency.

Chase chuckled. “A word of advice? You might want to drink the first one quickly.”

Alex tossed back the glass, allowing the fiery mist to sear through her. After a quick moment of regret, her entire body became warm and reenergized. “Oh,” she murmured in surprise.

Chase nodded. “Good, right?” He ordered another round.

Alex watched the bartender shuffle away. “Why are you here?” She watched Chase toy with his drink and avoid her question. “You were waiting in my room the other night, weren’t you? Why did you leave?”

Chase ran his fingers through his hair again and sighed heavily. “You know why I left.”

So he had heard the conversation. “How did you know Jonas was out there?”

“I could hear him in your mind. He’s right, you know. About what he said. Why should I deserve you now after all this time?”

“That was a decision we both made.”

“I should have fought for it.”

“You can’t listen to Jonas, Chase. You’ll go crazy. I don’t see things the way he does and neither do you. I’m sure it never occurred to him that anything you did or didn’t do was to protect yourself. And me.”

“I didn’t protect anything. What good did it do us?”

“We never could have predicted how our lives would end.”

Chase rubbed his brow. “You’re unsure of me.” The sleeves of his sweater were rolled above his elbows, and while he clasped his hands on the bar, Alex stared and wondered how projections could be so intricate. She saw the scar on his chin from when he tumbled off his bike, the muscular curve of his forearms, and the strength in his hands.

“I’m not,” Alex insisted firmly. “I just don’t understand you.”

“What if,” he sighed, resting his cheek on his hand, “after all my efforts, I haven’t done right by you?”

”How can you say that?”

“You care about him.”

“If that’s what you interpreted from the conversation in my mind, then you read it wrong. Maybe you should ask before you snoop. I’m worried about Jonas, yes, so maybe that’s what you felt. Maybe now I see why Gabe is worried too.”

Chase shook his head, staring down at his drink. “Alex, he’s my brother.”

“And?”

Chase took a sip. “Tell me honestly. Do you think his feelings for you are real?”

If this was why he’d been avoiding her, he should know better. “Jonas’s priority is himself. You know that. So there might be selfish intentions there. Beating out one of his brothers for something.”

“It’s more than that,” Chase argued. “He’s been acting so strangely.”

There was another reason for that. She wished she could tell Chase what she knew, what she’d promised Gabe she wouldn’t share, but she was bound by her word. “I’m sorry.”

“I wouldn’t put myself through this if it wasn’t worth it.” He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind Alex’s ear. His fingers lingered there. “I never thought Jonas was capable of real feelings at all. I guess time can change things.”

“Or death.”

“Does that make me a bad person?” He lifted the glass and downed the contents, wincing. “Shouldn’t I want my brother to be happy?”

Alex repeated the words that Gabe had said to her the day she died. “Have you ever known Jonas to be truly happy?”

They were quiet for a few minutes, allowing Stauffer to fill their glasses.

“Have you been happy?” Chase asked. “After all this. Did I just make things more difficult? Do I now?”

Happy. She considered the meaning of the word. “If you’d felt the same or if you hadn’t, if we’d died, and if we hadn’t, I would have been in love with you anyway. Nothing could have changed it.”

She couldn’t believe she’d said it. She’d actually allowed the word ‘love’ to leave her lips, to dance across the space between she and Chase and land on his own lips as he repeated it.

He reached out and held her arm gently.

“What?”

He didn’t answer. Instead he leaned toward her, and she felt a sensation in her stomach like she was about to leap from a twenty-story building. Like she was about to fall. He was going to kiss her. She’d wished for it, prayed for it, dreamed of it for so long that she could barely stand it. The feeling lifted her up, twirled her around, and placed her right back on that stool. It was the most wonderful euphoria, and in that split second, whether it struck her from his mind or hers, fear engulfed her. For the first time, she realized perhaps why he refused to kiss her. They couldn’t go back after they fell. The overwhelming intensity of their friendship would only deepen. And part of her hoped he wouldn't kiss her now. Not yet. Not while things were perfect as is. His lips passed hers and kept going, grazing her ear, leaving her with nothing but her dizziness.

“I love you.” His voice danced against her. “There was never a time when I didn’t love you.”

She knew that. She’d always known.

“Let’s go home.” Chase smiled, holding her face in his hands.

“You just called this place home.”

Chase slid off his stool and slung his arm over her shoulders. “Home is wherever you are, Al.”

30

Who would have thought the holidays would be better dead? In life, Alex never had the Christmas morning she’d longed for—the breakfast, the stockings, the tree. She’d always woken up early to eat stale Corn Pops at a dirty kitchen table while she watched the parade alone and waited for the Lasalles to invite her next door.

In Eidolon, the celebration of the winter solstice meant carolers, the Ex House version of eggnog, cozy fires, and preparations for another Lazuli Street festival. On the morning of the twenty-first, Alex awoke to the sugary aroma of hot chocolate flavored Ex wafting from the vestibule. Above the balconies, words drifted through the air: Here’s to the solstice, rebirth, and new beginnings. It was a much different holiday welcome than the rancid scent of her father’s whiskey sweat and the sound of his drunken snores.

Outside her door, Alex found a heap of presents. The previous night, she’d made her rounds, hoping she was leaving gifts on the appropriate doorsteps, since of course there were no doors. Something told her the presents would end up in the right place even if she made a mistake. The building would see to it.

From Jack, she received a book entitled How to Use Your New Mind Effectively: A Spirit’s Guide to Success. She wondered if self-help books were as popular in death as they were in life. Skye deemed the book to be “overly anxious,” whatever that meant.

Skye’s present to Alex had been a very poorly wrapped lump. She complained for weeks that she’d never gift-wrapped anything in her life because her colony didn’t believe in it, and she didn’t understand the purpose of doing so now. The box was filled with anise seeds and a note instructing Alex to place half of them under her pillow to keep away nightmares. The rest of the seeds were to be planted because the leaves warded off evil. Alex was starting to think that Skye’s superstitions were out of control.

From Gabe, she received a device to transcribe her notes. Kaleb gave her a rulebook about Invisiball games. He’d scribbled a note that she needed to learn how to play since she wasn’t the “crippled girl on the sidelines” anymore. And from Jonas, she found a small box that housed a blue and black butterfly. She touched the wings gingerly, surprised to find the creature was made of something hard and resilient. It sprung from the box and circled the room three times before perching on the tip of her clock. Its wings slowly fluttered up and down in rhythm to what should have been the ticks of the silent clock. The gift she saved for last was from Chase. He had explained that due to his prior record, he needed quite a bit of help obtaining the gift, which had made her furious with curiosity. She ripped through the paper impatiently, and when she saw what was hidden inside, she realized that she had been missing something with all of her heart.

Though she and Chase had been in hundreds of photographs together, Chase had gone back for their first. Alex had kept the picture in her bedroom in Parrish Park, so there was no telling how Chase could have retrieved it. It was a black-and-white of her mother and Danya, two swollen pregnant ladies standing belly to belly. Danya clutched the arm of someone who was squirming to get away, out of the frame. Alex figured the arm belonged to Jonas, since tiny, devious versions of Gabe and Kaleb were in the background stuffing their fingers into a large cake. On Erin’s face was a coy half smile like she had a secret. Her arms cradled her belly like Alex was her greatest treasure.

Holding the picture, Alex with filled with an oddly comforting sensation. The safety of a mother’s arms.

Things became quiet in the months following the solstice. Alex and Chase continued their tango of indecision, holding back because of fear. Sometimes, though, it seemed that he couldn’t help himself, and he’d reach over and grab her hand, interlacing his fingers with hers and holding it over his heart while they walked.

Jonas was like smoke, less visible with each passing day. Alex was starting to believe that Gabe was right. Because of his preoccupation, Jonas wasn’t so concerned with Alex anymore. She kept her promise to Gabe and continued to keep quiet about Jonas’s recruitment despite the tugging at her conscience.

At first she checked Eviar’s letters for new ink every day, but come spring, there was still nothing. Alex lost interest and the box sulked in the corner of her room, swallowing dust bunnies like a frog catching flies.

For the most part, death was peaceful. Chase called it normal; Alex called it unnerving. The calm before the storm.

On a night when the world felt heavy, Alex spent hours in study hall. Although it had been months since her arrival, she still played catch-up in some areas. She probably would have passed out face down in her books if Chase hadn’t come to find her. He gathered her belongings in his arms, and they exited the Hall.

“I think you overdid it,” Chase mused, eyeing her weary face. “Do you need me to carry you, too?”

Alex pretended to think this over. When he stepped forward and readied himself to scoop her up, she laughed and backed away. “You don’t have to carry my books, Chase.”

“I think I can handle it.” But then, the thick text on the top of the pile slid to the ground. “Whoops.” He bent down the retrieve it at the exact same time Alex did, and they collided. Everything in his arms tumbled down.

Alex gave up and collapsed into the mess. “Maybe I’ll just sleep here with my books.”

He stared at her for so long she waved a hand in front of his face. “I love that smile,” he murmured.

She spoke without thinking. “That’s because it’s yours.” He began to shake his head, but she kept going. “I don’t know why you think you’ve done wrong by me.”

“Maybe I kept you from living the way you wanted to.”

“No. When I was with you, I was living exactly the way I wanted to.”

Chase held out his hand and lifted Alex to her feet. He pulled with unnecessary vigor, and she found herself pressed against him nose to nose. A breath caught in her throat as she realized the moment was absolutely perfect. She waited for him to pull away since they were in the middle of the hallway, but before she knew what was happening, he had tilted his head to the side and ever so softly, his lips brushed against hers, asking for permission. She nodded her assent, and he hesitated long enough to grin before giving in.

And then he kissed her.

Finally. Finally. She melted into him, pressing her lips against his, opening her mouth to swallow the happiness which inevitably consumed her. Their lips, their heads, their hands moved in faultless rhythm like a choreographed dance. She could feel his fingers combing through her hair, and she looped her arms underneath his, clutching his shoulders. How could they have been afraid of this?

The space around them began to crack and sizzle. Chase lifted his head for a moment, but Alex yanked at his shirt to pull him back in. Nothing had ever felt so right to her in her entire life. It was like nothing around them existed anymore. It was just Chase and Alex together, as it should be, and the world could wait.

The moment was interrupted by a loud thud from above them. Alex’s eyes flickered upward. “Wha—” Chase shushed her and cradled her face in his hands, allowing their lips to tangle again until a series of thumps thundered over their heads. They broke apart.

“Wait here,” Chase said. He softly kissed her nose and made his way up the staircase. He stopped halfway to look around.

Alex leaned against a pilaster. “Do you see—”

“Shhh.” He held a finger to his lips, his head cocked. And then Alex heard it too. It was a muffled whimper. “Hello?”

“Chaaaase.” The long wail echoed off the walls.

“Jonas?” Chase bellowed. He took off, flying up the staircase until he remembered he could think himself to the top.

Alex began to panic. Had Jonas seen them over the railing? Had he fallen in surprise? Thrown something in anger?

She tried to flicker and project herself to the top of the stairway, but she couldn’t concentrate. When she reached the third floor, Chase was huddled next to two crumpled figures outside Van Hanlin’s classroom. One was cradling the other, rocking back and forth. Jonas. He was holding someone with a head of curly blonde hair.

“What happened?” Chase demanded.

Jonas’s face was etched in agony. “He followed me. I didn’t know!”

Gabe’s head lolled back and smacked against the floor. His mouth hung open like the hinges of his jaw were broken.

“Gabe?” Chase cried. “Gabe?”

But his brother didn’t stir.

“What’s all over his face?” Alex’s terrified voice was barely above a whisper. Streaks of grayish-black whiplashes indented Gabe’s temple, cheek, and neck. Alex had seen similar markings before, though they were fainter and weathered, when Professor Darby had lifted the sleeves of his shirt.

Alex didn’t need to wait for an answer. “Did it scream?” she asked in horror. Chase gasped.

“No,” Jonas wailed. “It was bound when they brought it to us.”

“Brought it to you?” Chase exclaimed.

Battle the insane. Whoever was in charge of this “harmless” group had brought the banshee to the recruits.

“Why isn’t he conscious?”

“He was beaten. We need to go back. He wasn’t the only one.”

“Who else?”

Jonas shook uncontrollably. “P-Professor Van Hanlin.”

For a moment no one moved. Alex couldn’t feel anything. She was weightless, treading on a breeze of foreboding.

“They needed to weaken the banshee, so … ”

“So, what?” Chase was looking between Alex and Jonas, flabbergasted. “Why would anyone mess with a banshee?”

“So others could fight it,” Alex whispered.

Jonas’s face showed no expression, no shame that Alex knew where he’d been and what he’d been up to. It made her feel disgusted.

Chase was shaking his head in confusion. “Van Hanlin had you fight it?”

“No,” Jonas snapped. “He was attacked!”

“Where were you?”

“Home. Gabe must have followed me. I didn’t know where I was going. I was just told to take the emergency exit out of the city.”

“What emergency exit?”

“There. In the corner past Van Hanlin’s classroom. You have to want to see it to actually find it.”

Alex blinked, and a stairway appeared in the wall. It twisted upward like the ramp in the vestibule.

“We weren’t supposed to know where we were going. There were others there, and I couldn’t see anyone else besides Van Hanlin and Gabe, but I recognized the woods. It was home. Parrish home.”

Chase pried Jonas away from Gabe. “Alex, go tell someone about this,” he commanded, hoisting Gabe into the air. “We need to go to the medical center. Try not to jostle him too much, Jonas!”

But Jonas couldn’t stop shaking.

“Who do I tell?”

“Anyone. Paleo is in the Grandiuse, right?”

“What do I say?”

“Just tell her that I found Gabe, and he’s hurt. That’s all.”

“And Van Hanlin?”

“We can’t leave him out. What if he’s still being attacked? Just tell her that we found Gabe here. We don’t know why or how, and the Patrol should be able to go through the stairway to find Van Hanlin.”

Alex glanced nervously at the twisting stairway. If Jonas had gotten to the meeting that way, the others probably had, too. Every inch of her being tingled in urgency, afraid a mob of young pledges were about to come spilling out after them.

“Are you hurt?” Chase asked Jonas, who limped under one of Gabe’s arms.

“I had to enter the ring because I hadn’t battled yet.” His response was directed more to Alex than Chase. He clutched his head with his free hand. “I didn’t know they’d already weakened the banshee until we reached the clearing. And then I saw it. And I saw Gabe at its feet, and Van Hanlin crumbled off to the side. I scooped up Gabe, and I just ran!”

“Wait, someone used my brother for bait?” Chase accentuated the word, my, staring hard at Jonas. “Who?”

“I don’t know.” Jonas wailed. “I couldn’t see any faces, and I was told not to try.”

It seemed like someone else was moving Alex’s lips for her when she uttered, “Will he wake up?”

No one answered.

“Go, Alex,” Chase ordered again. “Please.”

She nodded and took one last look at Gabe’s lifeless body before she projected herself down the staircase and ran as fast as her fear would carry her.

* * *

The night seemed never-ending. While Alex and Chase paced in the waiting room, Jonas became strangely calm and finally informed them of the details involving his recruitment process. He’d received a bid to join an alliance of spirits who would eventually leave Eidolon to move on to bigger and better opportunities together. Membership was exclusive and secret. He didn’t know the name of the group because he was still in the initiatory stage and not everyone would survive the process. He had found the invitation written in his law notebook one day, the words promising him a place amongst the elite if he was initiated. Even though he was not a multigenerational spirit, he hadn’t had to prove himself worthy because he was a sibling, a rarity in itself.

It seemed too good to be true. When the banshee mission was proposed, he grew slightly unnerved, but figured the tasks had to be challenging, right? Then, Alex was attacked. He hadn’t been following her that night in Moribund. He’d been stalking the banshee. He didn’t want anyone to get hurt, so when he found the backpack of bladderwort flowers, he took them so no one else could accomplish the task. Whoever was writing in their law notebooks would have to assign another mission. He thought wrong.

For the duration of the story, Chase slouched with his elbows on his legs, refusing to look at his brother.

The buzz had died with the night, and the morning only brought dread and uncertainty. About Gabe, about Van Hanlin, about Jonas. The blame for this would fall on someone, and there was only one newbury who had witnessed the crime, a newbury who was affiliated with an attack on a professor.

Alex feared Jonas’s punishment and wondered when the Patrol would come for him. She was surprised they hadn’t arrived already. Hopefully that meant they’d found Van Hanlin.

“I’m not going to wait around to find out,” Jonas informed her when Chase left for an update on Gabe. “I’ll run.”

“That will make you look guilty.”

“Aren’t I guilty? I was there.”

“You didn’t attack him.”

“I didn’t save him, either.”

Even though it was against the laws of this utterly strict afterlife, she couldn’t find a voice to discourage him from running. If they took Chase away just for leaving the city, what would they do to Jonas for leaving, returning with a near dead brother and without a missing teacher?

Jonas stared at Alex, his eyes refusing to allow too much emotion to escape. “Unless you want me to stay.”

“What?”

“If you tell me to stay, I will.”

“You’re putting this on me?”

He leaned on the railing of Gabe’s bed and repeated himself. “If you tell me to stay, I will.”

Her response took too long. Chase returned with a frown, no news, and an order for Alex to keep quiet about the ordeal.

Jonas agreed. “Just go about your normal day.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” she demanded. She felt Chase’s touch on the small of her back, and calmness flowed through her.

“They haven’t asked us anything yet, but I’m sure they’ll come soon. You shouldn’t be involved in this. You have enough attention already.”

“And don’t you dare tell Kaleb!” Jonas ordered.

“But—”

“Kaleb will know about him soon enough. Just give me a few hours.”

She felt helpless, but she did what they asked and headed back toward the campus. The moment she entered the vestibule, she collided with the very person she was trying most to avoid.

“Whoa! Where’s the fire?” Kaleb bellowed.

Alex did her best to appear composed. “It’s just, oh, never mind.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly. Think of something to say. “What are you doing with all these books? You look like”—the name stuck to her throat in a thick wad—“Gabe.”

He jutted his chin at the stack of notebooks in his arms. “Finishing touches. My project for Paleo is due tomorrow. On the time period with the Anovark girl. Actually, I was looking for you.”

“Me?” she yelped. “Why?”

Kaleb quickly surveyed the nearly empty vestibule. “Let’s sit down for a second.”

Alex glanced hastily at the clock and then fleetingly at the exit.

“Believe me. You want to see this.”

He chose a secluded table in the far corner of the room, tucked under the first tier of balconies. He sat and began to scrutinize her face, so she threw out her arms in emphasis. “What?”

“Chill out.” Kaleb crinkled his nose. “I went back through my research one last time just to be sure I didn’t miss anything good. You know I like to put on a good performance.”

“Not you,” Alex murmured sarcastically.

“I found something. It was strange because I’d gone through the notes a million times, and I never thought to look for a picture. I mean, why would there be a picture of a ghost? But then I thought maybe I could show off and try to project something like the teachers do, and well, it just appeared last night.”

“What are you talking about?”

Kaleb was shuffling furiously through the files. “Where is it,” he grumbled to himself.

“What would you need me for?”

“Hold your horses.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I think I’ve discovered why the teachers look at you like you have five heads.”

“Because of my mother.”

Kaleb snickered. “No offense, Al. Yeah, you look like her, but she was here in town for maybe a decade, and her impact was about as resounding as a toothpick dropping to the floor.” Alex opened her mouth to argue but Kaleb held up his hand. “Before you make some argumentative Alex-y comment, think about it. Why would Ellington tell you to keep quiet about your family history? And when the banshee attacked, you said Westfall tried to block you from the Patrol, right? Have you thought about why?”

“Of course I’ve thought about it. I’m guessing it’s because of my mom.”

“You’ve been worried about the wrong person.”

He pulled a photo of a girl from an envelope. Alex immediately noticed the shape of the girl’s eyes. They were large and round with sadness weighing down the outer corners. With her delicate chin and porcelain doll features, she was Alex. The only difference was her stark white hair.

She flipped over the picture and felt her mouth fall open. Josephine “Sephi” Anovark 1849–1865–1901.

Alex’s mind spun. “This is the Parrish Cove Ghost,” she said, just to be sure.

“That’s her.”

“Her nickname was Sephi?”

“Allegedly.”

The pieces of a befuddling puzzle melded together. Josephine, the Parrish ghost, was Sephi. She had to be the recipient of Eviar’s letters. Same name, same time period. But that also meant she was murdered. Sephi would die. Eviar wouldn’t protect her.

And she looked just like Alex.

Kaleb waved the photo. “You are the spitting image of Eidolon’s most famous government advisor. And it girl.”

“You showed this to everyone?”

“Hell, no. Even if I’d wanted to, Paleo flipped her lid and stopped the presentation the second I mentioned Josephine’s name. We weren’t supposed to research people, just advancements. I asked her how in the world I was supposed to leave out a story like this. She said the project was about technology. I told her that was boring and—”

Alex interrupted his rambling. “How did she die again?”

“Some escaped mental patient killed her.”

Was this why her mother disappeared? Was this why Ellington had said not to mention her? Why would her name matter if Alex’s face gave away the secret? “The guy who killed her—do you know where he was from?”

Kaleb nodded. “Some place called Paradise.”

31

The walls in the psych room pulsated. Ellington eyed them warily. “Why the tension?”

Alex wondered if they were feeding off of her anxiety. About Gabe. About Sephi Anovark. “Better than that other time, right?”

During her session with Ellington following Chase’s return, she’d been so happy that the room had become smaller. The walls had closed in to try to get as near to Alex’s energy as they could, and Ellington, being claustrophobic, dismissed Alex immediately.

He gazed around the room. “How are you so strong?” he wondered aloud. “Your mind is quite extraordinary.”

“There are plenty of people who are smarter than me.”

“This isn’t about intelligence. It’s about brainpower, the energy your thoughts create. For goodness’ sake, you somehow withstood the shriek of a banshee.”

Alex grimaced. The word ‘banshee’ stung her entire being. The image of Gabe’s tattooed face flashed in her mind. “I don’t think that was because of me.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

“I told you about the dreams. About how Chase is there in my head.”

“Dream sharing is not unheard of; surviving a banshee is, however.” The walls jolted, knocking into a side table and sending a vase smashing to the ground. “And furthermore Chase does not have this effect on my room.”

“Dream sharing,” Alex repeated. “You mentioned that before. What is it?”

“Simply how it sounds. Visiting the dreams of others.”

“And speaking to them there?”

“Sometimes, but that is much more difficult to do.”

She chose her words carefully. “What about outside of dreams? Can spirits ever visit each other when the mind isn’t drifting?”

“You mean mentally? No, that’s impossible.”

Alex bit her tongue, and the walls shuddered.

Ellington eyed her suspiciously. “Why?”

“Just curious. But, how can I see the walls shiver like that, and believe that anything is impossible?”

“That’s just energy. Everything has energy, and in that there is life.”

“Can thoughts themselves be energy, then? Can they generate power?”

Ellington scrunched his lips, contemplating the idea. “Yes, I believe so.”

Alex watched the reverberating walls, wondering if perhaps the energy of Chase’s thoughts combined with hers explained how she survived the banshee. If there was double the amount of energy in her head. For a world so entirely mental, it was really hard to get solid answers.

“Why are you suffocating your notebook?”

Alex was inadvertently wringing a notebook like it was a dishtowel. Three seconds ago, she hadn’t had anything in her hands. Where had that come from?

“What’s bothering you?”

What wasn’t bothering her seemed to be the more appropriate question. She tossed her notebook to the floor.

“What happened to my mother?” she asked bluntly.

“What do you think?”

“I think you hold out on me.”

“As do you,” he replied without missing a beat.

“I know about Sephi Anovark.”

“It was only a matter of time.”

“And my mother?”

He sighed. “There is no possible relation to Sephi. Her relatives were extinguished. Her family tree was ignited at the base, cremated to prevent more prophets from branching out into the world. Sephi was the only one known to have risen from the ashes to become a spirit.”

“But then why was my mom killed?”

“We will never know that for sure.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Tap, tap, tap. Ellington’s pen slammed into his legal pad with unnecessary vigor. “Your mother was given answers, and she still went searching for more. Eventually it killed her.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Erin was a spirit for barely a week before she knew about Sephi Anovark. Spirits lined the sidewalks in our city, just waiting for Erin to pass by, to catch a glimpse. They celebrated her like royalty. Truth be told, there is no explanation why there is such a strong resemblance. She found no genetic connection. It still wasn’t enough. She wanted proof, and we all know how that ended up.”

“Why? Who killed her?”

“Sephi worked with the Ardor Service to help imprison spirits. She could predict a crime before it happened. She was also responsible for the destruction of the losing side of the Restructuring war. Anyone on the opposing side, anyone who shared the beliefs of the opposing side, would fear her.”

“You think the same people who killed Sephi went after my mother?”

“Impossible. They’re dead.”

“The inmates from Paradise? What about the other prisoners? Why are they being questioned?”

Ellington raised a small eyebrow. “Have you considered detective work for your future?”

“I’m not joking.”

“Why do you think I was so alarmed when you began asking questions about Paradise?”

Alex leaned back in her chair. She hadn’t realized she’d been gravitating toward Ellington during the conversation. It was too much to be a coincidence that she would find letters written to someone who could be her twin, letters only she could see.

Ellington finally stopped tapping his pencil and pointed it at Alex. “This stays in this room, but the pranks occurring in the city have the Patrol up in arms.”

Alex felt a draft in the room without windows. It crept up and settled behind her. “Why?”

“Because if someone is trying to copy the Paradise crew, your life is no safer than your mother’s was.”

* * *

Alex rushed back to the medical center as soon as she could. Something was wrong. In her thoughts, she was Chase. She could see his shoes crunching through the underbrush, passing an old familiar tree with five sets of initials carved into the bark, Alex’s included. And at that grandfather tree where they’d always hid their treasure, she heard Jonas say, “We’re almost there.”

And in her thoughts Alex heard, I can’t believe we’re back here.

She didn’t understand, so she picked up the pace. But the only one in Gabe’s room at the medical center was Skye. “Gabe’s hair looks a bit curlier,” she murmured in greeting.

Alex wasn’t in the mood for Skye’s offbeat remarks. Things weren’t right. The Lasalles wouldn’t have left their brother here like this unless it was for a really good reason. And even with Skye in the room, Alex felt very much alone.

Chase? Alex called in her head.

No answer. Usually if he attempted to block her intrusion into his thoughts, she could still sense him there, but he’d locked the deadbolt of his mind.

“How did you know Gabe was here?”

“Jack Bond.” Skye twisted her beautiful face distastefully. “He told me to give you a message from Chase.”

“What message?”

Skye pointed to the table next to Alex. There was a scrap of paper folded in messy fours. “He left that for you. Where did Gabe find a banshee?”

Alex ignored her question. “How did you know I would be here?”

“I guess Chase told Jack.”

Alex snatched up the note, her eyes scurrying across the page. “You didn’t read this, did you?”

“I didn’t want to touch it any longer than I had to,” Skye said, recoiling and wiping a non-existent contagion from her fingers. “Why?”

“Because you would have come to find me,” Alex said, hurrying out the door.

“What does it say?” Skye rushed to keep up. “Is it okay to leave Gabe?”

“You should stay,” Alex suggested. She threw open the door to the stairway with a little too much force. She heard a cracking sound, but didn’t turn around to see the damage she’d caused. “Ugh!” she groaned, jumping down the stairs. “Why can’t I just think myself out of this building?”

“Because you have to be able to see where you’re going. If you could think your way somewhere we wouldn’t need radio waves to travel.”

“I was being rhetorical,” Alex hissed, bursting out of the building. She waved the note above her head. “I still don’t get this. Jack saw Chase leaving campus this afternoon, and Chase told Jack to tell me that he was going home.”

“Home? Like Brigitta?”

“No. Home, home. Parrish, Maryland. Where Gabe was attacked.”

“Why would they do that?” she asked. “There’s a banshee on the loose.”

Because Alex never gave Jonas an answer to his question. She should have told him to go, to run away. He’d be better off away from his brothers. But if even a small part of him wanted to stay, he needed to find some evidence of his innocence. A way to clear his name. And he’d taken Chase with him, banshee or not. She couldn’t talk to Kaleb right now, and Gabe was unconscious. Without any of them, she felt helpless. Alone. Just like after they’d died. She wouldn’t put up with the hopelessness again.

Alex stopped abruptly, and Skye ran into her. “How do I get to Gramble station?”

“What are you expecting to happen there?”

Alex looked at her incredulously. “Travel.”

“Are you crazy? Everyone knows we’re not old enough to travel alone. There are rules about newburies. We won’t last ten minutes in the Gramble.”

Alex could feel her anxiety rising like a heat. “Do you know about the stairway by Van Hanlin’s classroom?”

“The exit? Sure. But it only works in emergencies.”

If this wasn’t an emergency, she didn’t know what was. She took off, racing across campus, so determined and lost in her thoughts that she was surprised to find Skye next to her when she reached the third floor of the learning center.

They turned the corner, and there, outside Van Hanlin’s dark room, sat an impatient-looking Professor Duvall. She stood quickly, jewelry jingling, shawls billowing, and her hands placed authoritatively on her hips.

“Professor.” Skye gulped. “What are you doing?”

Duvall huffed, placing one hand on the back of each of their necks, spinning them around and leading them to the opposite end of the hallway. “Helping you,” she whispered. “What took you so long? And what would you have done if the exit worked, huh? How would you have controlled where you ended up?”

Alex’s response caught in her throat. She hadn’t thought that far. Jonas had said he’d entered the stairway with urgency on his mind, and it had transported him home.

“There’s a reason why a roof parapet isn’t an approved form of travel. It’s only an emergency exit. Very dangerous indeed. Let’s go to my office quickly, shall we? We don’t have much time.”

Alex shot a questioning look toward Skye, who promptly raised a confused eyebrow.

Duvall’s office was a mess of books, lab tools, jars of unidentifiable substances, cages covered by blankets, and shelves congested with tiny vials. She scrambled up a rolling ladder, browsing through the inhabitants of the shelves with her bone-thin arms, mumbling quietly about organizing.

Skye’s mouth had formed a large O, astonishment glistening in her eyes. Alex followed her gaze to a large broomstick resting in the corner. There were tracks of dirty footprints trailing from the window to the resting place of the broom.

“Professor!” Skye sputtered. “You didn’t leave the city, did you? I thought it was too risky. What about the witches?”

Duvall followed their gazes to the broomstick. “I’d like it if you referred to them as the gifted, and I can handle myself. It’s been centuries. I doubt they still employ round-the-clock spies to sniff out my whereabouts.” Duvall cut Alex off before she could speak. “So, have either of you ever traveled by power lines?”

Both girls shook their heads.

“Of course not,” Duvall grumbled. “Because this school has become so prehistorically prude in its teachings. They foolishly assume if they give you too much freedom you’ll become troublesome.” She bit her lip. “You need alternate means of travel.”

“Do you mean … ” Alex couldn’t stop herself from gawking back at the broomstick in the corner.

Duvall cackled. “Oh dear me, no! That would be quite a sight in broad daylight!”

Alex crossed her arms and scowled, wondering how in the world she was supposed to know that they couldn’t just douse the broom in Thymoserum to make it seem invisible.

“So how are we going to get there?” Skye asked, glancing out the window nervously. “Electrical wires?”

Duvall shook her head. “Not if you’ve never done it before. You could easily get lost due to the frequent stops, and that would be unfavorable. Too much can go wrong if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Well, there aren’t any other ways to travel, are there?”

“You’d be surprised how many of the gifted in this day and age are solely technological.” Duvall spun a computer monitor around to face them. “What signal travels just as quickly as a cell phone?”

Alex inspected the computer. “We’re going to travel through the internet? Is it safe?”

“Of course it’s safe. You’re dead!” Duvall barked. “Your body is comprised of energy. Sometimes the monitor flickers, and I wonder if it’s them trying to find me. Spyware has nothing on pure energy. It isn’t comfortable like cell phone travel, so spirits don’t use it often. Alex, do you know anyone in the Parrish area who might provide us with a connection right now?”

Alex nodded. What teenager wasn’t constantly connected to the internet? She was willing to bet that right now Liv Frank was lounging on her bed with a bag of Oreos and a Diet Coke, scrolling through her phone and ordering her brother out of her room. In that moment, Alex missed her friend desperately. During the past few months she’d been so preoccupied she hadn’t had a chance to think about Liv.

“All right,” Duvall said, shoving aside some odd drawings on her desk. “Give me a phone number or log in name of any social media for whomever you’re thinking of, and you can travel through the connection.”

Skye reached out and grabbed her hand, but that didn’t make Alex any less nervous. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Duvall let out an indignant huff. “You doubt me? There is no other way for you to get there.”

“It’s up to you, Alex,” Skye said. “Do you really think they need our help?”

Yes. She couldn’t allow anything to happen to Chase. She’d only just gotten him back. And for him, she’d do anything. “Professor, why are you helping us break the rules?”

“Because you’re supposed to be there. And sometimes fate needs a little nudge.”

Alex didn’t quite understand, but she placed her free hand on the computer before she could chicken out.

“Allow it to pull you in,” Duvall ordered.

Alex tightened her grasp on Skye and leaned into the computer.

32

To say it was uncomfortable was an understatement. Alex didn’t know if the constricting dizziness in her mind was a result of the form of travel or a reaction to her panic. She never did anything crazy like this unless the Lasalles were there to catch her if she fell.

She mentally clung to Skye’s presence. They zipped around the bends of the roller coaster ride, yelping each time the electricity zapped them. They jolted and jerked through a silver tunnel of sparks, and Alex concentrated with all her might, picturing herself and Skye as one to avoid losing her friend. Finally, Alex saw a rainbow of colors, and she braced herself as they picked up speed and burst through the screen.

They landed awkwardly in a heap on the floor, which was smothered in a Pepto-Bismol pink carpet. Sitting up, Alex inhaled the familiar scent of Febreze and Abercrombie perfume and smiled at the room where she’d spent so many of her childhood sleepovers. Liv’s phone had been left on the floor next to a binder predictably sprinkled with black cookie crumbs. No doubt she was retrieving more snacks from the cupboard where her mother kept an endless supply. Posters of teenage celebrities and pictures of high school cluttered the walls: scenes from football games, dances, field trips, and boat rides. All with Alex. More than she remembered, and in most of them, Chase stood beside her. Liv had captured snapshots of a life lost, framing a note scrawled amongst the photos. Where did you go? she asked of the memories haunting her.

“Alex,” Skye whispered.

Right. No time for this. Skye leaped through the window, which revealed a murky sky concealed by a veil of clouds. Alex climbed onto the sill and took one last fleeting glance at the room before plummeting into the flowerbeds below.

Liv’s backyard bordered the Parrish woods. If they trekked far enough, they would be in the Eskers territory, and that’s where they would find the old asylum, the one Alex knew Chase was searching for.

“Are you ready?” Alex asked, preparing to dart in the direction of the woods.

Skye nodded, but her eyes grew wide as a voice drifted through the yard. “Alex?” It clung to the air around them like a prayer. Liv Frank craned her head around the windowpane and squinted into the darkness.

“She can see us,” Alex whispered in surprise.

“Alex,” Skye said with warning in her voice. “We need to go.” She glanced at Liv guardedly. “That could get us into more trouble than we can handle.”

She was right. Alex desperately wanted to see her old friend and wondered how Liv knew she was there, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

The girls hurried off into the trees which seemed so undersized to Alex compared to the redwoods she'd grown so used to seeing. They didn’t slow their pace until they reached a narrow road snaking its way through the underbrush.

“Okay,” Alex said. “It’s off this path somewhere.”

Skye had one hand closed around the nearest branch, and she used her free hand to hold Alex in place. “Do you hear that?”

“What?”

“It sounds like … ” Skye tilted her head towards the darkness. “It sounds like bells.”

Fear still had the ability to make Alex’s throat tighten.

A child’s voice twisted through the air around them like an exhale of cigarette smoke. “Does she remember me? No screams this time?”

Alex spun around, but it was impossible to tell where the voice was coming from.

“Who is that?” Skye asked.

The bells jingled again. “Answer my question and I’ll show you who I am. He who makes it sells it. He who buys it doesn’t use it. He who uses it doesn’t know it. What is the object?”

Skye shrugged. She didn’t seem fazed by their present company at all. “It’s a coffin,” she replied easily.

“Smart girl,” the voice noted. “You look like a Gossamer.”

A figure appeared between two distant trees, and he was far less intimidating than Alex expected. He was stick-figure thin with white hair and young laugh lines. Alex had assumed the squeak in his voice was due to insanity, not adolescence. He didn’t wear the jester’s hat, but it hung from his waistband. His defiant eyes curled up at the edges like he’d been caught doing something wrong. He reminded Alex of Huckleberry Finn.

“You’re the Jester?” Alex asked.

“I knew you’d be back here.”

“What do you mean?”

The boy shrugged, shooing the air with his hand. “Once you’ve been a spirit as long as I have, you get a sense for the soon-to-be deceased.” He grinned widely at Alex. “You stank of death.”

“Thanks for the flattery.”

“You’re quite far from the others.” The Jester tut-tutted. “Lost, are you?”

“No, the old Eskers building isn’t far, right?” Alex asked. “The west end?”

“Oh.” The boy pursed his lips. “Yes.” He glanced in the opposite direction, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“Have you seen two boys?”

“Only two? Yes,” he replied in a sing-song voice. “They look the same, similarities misleading, one is so honest and the other deceiving.”

This kid has lost his mind, Alex thought.

“Can you show us where they are?” Skye asked.

“I wouldn’t go near that building if I were you. Insanity isn’t something to meddle with.”

“They’re our friends. We’re going to find them.”

For the first time, the Jester’s smile faded. “Okay, fine, have it your way. I was hoping you’d stay and play awhile.”

“Wait,” Alex said, remembering the rumors. “Are there other spirits living there in that building? Will they hurt us?”

“They’re hiding right now,” he replied, “for obvious reasons.” He pointed to the left. “Follow the sounds of screaming.”

Alex watched him float away to the ringing of bells. “What a whack-job.”

“I thought he was interesting,” Skye said.

They turned in the direction to which he’d pointed. Within minutes, they came to a large, rusty steel gate labeled The Eskers.

“It looks like a concentration camp,” Skye commented, wrinkling her nose.

No birds chirped, and the light even kept its distance, tucked safely behind the darkening clouds. Alex’s residence had been the newer version of the facility, which was built on the opposite end of the woods. This side of the Eskers had an entirely different vibe. Half the building remained intact. The leftovers, however, comprised a mountain of singed bricks and blackened debris. Alex could smell the burning of the rotten embers like charcoal sitting for hours after the grill had died.

“Charming place,” Skye noted, slipping through a hole in the gate.

“I don’t hear any electricity, do you?”

Skye shook her head. “But that’s only when spirits move at an exhaustingly fast pace. Banshees aren’t reasonable enough to know better, so it wears them out, but you might not know it’s there until it's hovering behind you.”

Alex shuddered and glanced over her shoulder, half expecting to see a set of soulless black eyes piercing through her. “So we shouldn’t just start shouting out Chase’s name, huh?”

“Probably not the best idea. I don’t feel good about this place.”

Neither did Alex. Who would? But they needed to hurry before they lost the dim light from the cloudy sky. Skye followed Alex through overgrown weeds, jagged stumps, and random furniture scattered throughout the yard, a chair here, a blackened file there. The building was like a stroke victim—from one angle the structure seemed perfectly healthy, unscathed, and from the other side it slumped lifelessly.

Alex didn’t want to tell Skye how scared she was. Rumor had it that during renovations, the builders became frightened after a series of accidents. They abandoned the project, labeled the building “damned,” and left it alone to rot. No one cleared the dirty surgical rooms for lobotomies or the beds with shackles for electroshock therapy treatment. Or so she had heard.

“Is there a door?” Skye asked. “I don’t want to go through the wall. I don’t want to touch anything.”

“I’ve never gone through a wall,” Alex admitted. “And I’m not sure I could think my way through it right now anyway.”

They found a side entrance where a door dangled askew, hanging by a hinge. One at a time, they ducked into the unknown.

Skye stumbled over the threshold and caught herself by grabbing the doorframe. She shivered violently and ripped her hand away. “Oh God,” she choked. “What’s wrong with this place?”

“Ironically,” Alex said, “people say it’s haunted.”

They weaved through the rickety end tables and metal hospital beds of an old infirmary, complete with bloodstains in the outlines of human forms, and Alex couldn’t help but wonder if the hospital was flooded with lunatics and banshees lurking around every corner.

Alex tried to make her voice sound determined, but it shook uncontrollably. “Let’s just find the boys and get out of here.”

A greenish glow tinted the hallway. The overhead lights flickered like dull strobe lights and buzzed at them in warning: Someone had been here. It stunk like a science lab, acidic and pungently chemical.

Alex trembled, and her pride blamed it on the chill, not her fear. They floated down a hollow hallway, passing dozens of identical black doors with tiny rectangular windows. Solitary confinement.

“Look,” Skye whispered, pointing to the ground. The dust they were sifting through had already been disturbed. Unfortunately, there were not footprints lining the dirt, but two solid lines. Alex pictured the way banshees traveled, dragging the tips of their toes, and the hairs stood up on her arms.

The hall seemed to stretch behind them for a mile. Each time the lights sputtered out, they were momentarily engulfed in darkness, and each time the hazy glow flooded them again, Alex was terrified there would be a monster standing before her. The horrible stench of burnt embers became stronger the more they walked, and Alex concentrated so hard on ignoring it that she almost didn’t notice Skye stop.

“Do you hear that?”

It sounded like flapping bed sheets, but it was impossible to tell from which direction it came. Suddenly, the lights zapped, and they were swallowed by blackness.

“Alex,” Skye whimpered, clutching her.

“Shhh.”

The lights pulsed on, slowly reappearing and going out again. In and out, in and out, like a morbid game of peek-a-boo.

Lights on. Alex saw Skye, her chin quivering.

Lights out.

Lights on. Skye’s eyes were darting every which direction.

Lights out. Flapping …

Lights on. An open door down the hallway.

Lights out.

Lights on. Shadows dancing. Alex’s breath escaping in short gasps.

Lights out. The sound of something dragging softly across the floor.

Lights on.

Alex slapped her hand over Skye’s mouth before the bloodcurdling scream could erupt from her throat. A dead-still form of a banshee slumped like a cat held by the skin of its neck. Strings of hair covered most of its sallow face while it cocked its gruesome head in question, no doubt wondering what they were doing, though it never completely lifted its black eyes.

Lights out. The bone chilling sound of its toes dragging across the dust covered floor.

Lights on. It was several feet closer. Its pallid hair fell back, and it slowly lifted its head. It was a little girl. Alex could see the purple circles under her macabre eyes, which rose and seemed to stare directly through Alex’s pupils and into her terrified soul. The corner of the banshee’s mouth sagged in a way that made Alex picture her pleading for mercy during her last few moments of sanity. Alex kept her hand over Skye’s mouth and began to back up slowly.

Lights out. Alex could feel the girl’s presence, her charge. It was moving with them, creeping closer.

Lights on. She was inches from their faces. Alex could hear the dulled hum of energy. The girl’s eyes rolled back in her head as her mouth opened in a wide O. Alex could practically see down her throat into the depths of hell. And then her head snapped up straight, narrowing those devil-black eyes. She lifted one hand, and Alex braced herself.

Lights out. ZAAAAAP! The electricity was so painful that Alex couldn’t hold on to Skye. A blue current erupted between them, and her ears were filled with Skye’s agonizing scream. The icy fingers of electricity grabbed Alex’s mind and twisted it, suffocating whatever life was left in her.

Somehow it hurt all over. She didn’t have a heart, but it constricted. She didn’t have a torso, but it burned. She didn’t have breath, but it stuffed her throat, asphyxiating her. And then blackness.

Lights on. The banshee’s bony hands were still lifted, ready to shock the girls again.

Lights out. Skye whimpered. Alex heard the stomping of feet against the unforgiving metal floor.

The girl electrocuted them again, and in the brilliant steak of the blue lightning, Alex could see shadows running towards them.

Lights on. Whooooosh! Boom! The banshee slammed into the wall and collapsed to her knees, lifting her head to snarl.

Chase jumped high into the air, his leg flying out directly in front of the banshee’s mouth. The force of it created a sickening thwack. Before the banshee could retaliate, Jonas swung his right arm down on her, immediately followed by his left fist. He ducked so Chase, behind him, could push the full force of his energy at the girl.

The banshee fell into the nearest room and bellowed in surprise while her body began to convulse in spasms of electricity. Chase slammed the door shut, containing her.

Jonas cursed loudly. “What are you doing here?”

Skye shook so violently it was like her body was seizing.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Chase murmured, but he pulled Alex into his arms. His embrace was like a drug, injecting courage into Alex’s soul.

“We need to get you two outside,” Jonas replied, looking around frantically, maybe waiting for another monster to appear. “Now.”

“What about you guys?” Alex asked.

Boom!

Alex jumped away from the door.

Boom! Boom! The banshee hurled herself into the metal door. The hinges creaked and popped. They heard a screeeeech of electricity from inside the room.

“Why doesn’t she just go through the wall?”

“She isn’t that smart,” Jonas murmured.

“Is she smart enough to use the knob?”

Silence.

And then they heard a tiny click.

“Run!” Chase commanded, already in motion, yanking Alex behind him. The others were close at her heels.

She heard a squealing roar of rage. Alex didn’t know exactly where she was going, but the hallway twisted and sloped upward and sooner or later there wouldn’t be anywhere to go. The stench from the charred debris ahead burned her senses. When would the damaged structure give way?

At the peak of the rising ramp several yards ahead, finally, Alex could see the murky, gray sky above, but a mountain of rubble guarded the gateway to freedom. Crooked metal wheelchairs meshed together into a grisly jungle gym. They rusted against jagged piles of floorboards and fragmented doors speckled with chips of paint, slashes of wallpaper, and shards of broken glass. It stretched beyond what would have been the ceiling if the building still existed.

“Up!” Chase yelled when they reached it.

Alex’s fear hindered her concentration. She tried to climb the remains but couldn’t focus away her weight. The objects teetered under her. Her hands grasped pieces that crumbled or clattered, and her feet slipped against the glaze of ashes.

Jonas projected himself to the top of the mound, and he circled his hands, urging them to hurry.

Alex couldn’t stop gravity from pulling her down. She turned to see the banshee climbing the ramp of the hallway on her hands and knees, thrashing her body around in rage so violent her features blurred. The whips of hair lashed about in nightmarish snaps. She opened her mouth, preparing to shriek.

Chase reached for Alex. What do we do? They might be able to save each other again, but what about Skye and Jonas? How could they possibly survive this?

A flash of red whipped past them. Skype slid down the mountain of junk. She held out a handful of smooth, gray rock. She curled it into her fist and winked at them somberly.

“What is she doing?” Alex tried to grab her, but it was too late. Skye launched herself back down the ramp, skidding toward the banshee.

“Skye, no! Don’t touch it!”

Alex lifted her arms, but she couldn’t shove the space between them to separate them, as she had with Jonas in the clearing. The hallway was too narrow. Skye connected with the banshee, and the impact cracked like thunder before they flew apart. The banshee crumbled at the foot of the ramp and lay on her belly, blubbering in aftershocks of voltage. She began to drag herself away and disappeared into the abyss of darkness.

Alex rushed down to Skye.

“What was she thinking?” Jonas asked.

“She was thinking of us. She saved us. Darby said he lived through his banshee encounter because he ran at it. You tried to the run at that banshee in the clearing!”

“No. I was trying to get that banshee to chase me from the clearing. Touching a banshee is like hugging a bolt of lightning.”

“But Chase kicked it!”

“I never actually touched it,” Chase said. “I just aimed for it. An actual punch can’t hurt it, only the energy from it can.”

“She’s not dead, right?”

“We’re all dead, Alex,” Jonas said dully. “Believe me, Gabe withstood much more than that. The doctors at the medical center said the mind shuts itself down for protection.” He pulled Alex to her feet. “You need to take Skye back to Eidolon.”

Chase scooped Skye from the floor and cradled her in his arms. They didn’t dare go back the way they came, but luckily they turned a corner to find a crater in the wall, leading to fresh air. They stood in the middle of ruins, on what was formerly the roof, collapsed to the first floor. A step to the left and Alex would be out in the overgrown lawn again.

Jonas nudged her in that direction. “If you want Skye to be okay, you need to go.”

“Are you coming, too?”

His gaze shifted into the darkness. “Yes. After we either find Van Hanlin or find some other sort of witness.”

“The Jester said everyone is gone.”

“Jester?” Chase’s head snapped up. “You saw him?”

She nodded.

“Maybe he knows something about last night.” Jonas said hopefully.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Alex said. “You guys are coming back with us.”

“No, we’re not.”

“Jonas—” Chase began.

“I’m not leaving.” Jonas’s eyes darted around at their surroundings.

“What are you looking for?” Alex shouted. “You’ll hear it before you see it. That thing is pissed off.”

“Get out of here Alex,” Jonas urged her, but Alex remained rooted to the ground.

Chase stepped closer to Alex, holding out Skye. “I’ll stay here with Jonas. But I need you to go. You’re too much of a distraction.”

“If that’s true, then you shouldn’t have told me where you were going.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Why would you tell me where you’d gone if you didn’t want me to follow?”

Chase glanced at Jonas, who shrugged. “Al, I didn’t tell anyone where we were going.”

“You told Jack! He left me a note.”

“No.”

Three things happened at once. Chase shook his head. Alex felt several warm snaps of electricity. And a sharp cry of pain erupted from behind them. Jonas’s body arched back, suspended in midair before plummeting down to the dirt and ashes.

“What the hell?” Chase shouted.

Lights began to appear at various points atop the debris. Was it the Patrol again? Here to save them from the banshee? The logical part of Alex’s brain knew better. The Patrol wouldn’t have attacked one of them.

Dread filled her as, within seconds, they were surrounded.

33

Despite Alex’s inability to pull her attention away from their invisible company she couldn’t quite look at them. She wouldn’t. It would inevitably show her what or who they really were, and she wasn’t prepared for it.

Alex!

The desperation in Chase’s voice startled her back to reality. She watched him place Skye’s hazy form behind what was once a nurse’s station. Alex was sure it wouldn’t protect Skye if a spirit wanted to attack her directly, but it would keep her out of the line of fire.

Jonas had managed to pull himself to his feet, pressing his palms against his temples. He and Chase stood on either side of Alex.

“Can you see them?” Chase asked, but Alex shook her head. “I know you don’t want to. I don’t blame you. But you need to try.”

She didn’t want to know, but she opened her mind to see them nonetheless. Silhouettes appeared one by one, turning into full projections. They were children, newburies. They were her peers. Joey Rellingsworth sat on the top of a demolished wall. A large boy named Hecker Smithson, who never spoke a word to anyone, folded his arms and glowered at them. He stood next to Reuben Seyferr, and … Jack? Alex’s initial reaction was to call it a hoax. A test orchestrated by Ardor Westfall perhaps, to punish them for leaving campus.

Chase inched closer to Alex. “What’s going on?”

Alex couldn’t help herself. “Jack?” she exclaimed, lifting her palms upward in question.

His name acted as a chain reaction. One by one, the heads of the attackers turned to gawk in surprise at those who joined them.

Jack stood proudly and squared his frail shoulders. “Is it gone?”

Alex looked to Chase, who looked to Jonas, who opened his mouth to respond but hesitated, evidently surprised that Jack was addressing him. Finally, he offered a stiff nod.

Please get behind the desk with Skye, Chase commanded again. His head shifted slowly, scanning the disadvantage of their unfortunate positioning with trepidation in his eyes.

Joey Rellingsworth swung his feet back and forth on the wall. “Why is there an extra?”

“Jonas,” Chase murmured, “what is he talking about?”

“She came on her own,” Jonas responded loudly. “I tried to get her to leave.”

“No, not her.” Joey pointed to Chase. “Him.”

Jonas frowned. “What?”

Hecker Smithson leaned down to Joey. “You know who that is, right?” He pointed his fat finger in Alex’s direction.

“Of course I know. I think that’s the whole point.” Joey glanced over at Jack apprehensively, and he wasn’t the only one. Many of the attackers didn’t look quite so confident now that they’d opened their eyes.

“That’s her,” Jack affirmed. “That’s who they want.”

“Hold on.” Jonas took a step forward. “I thought I was supposed to bring my brother.”

Chase cursed. “This is why you didn’t want to tell Kaleb where we were going?” He glowered at Jonas. He led me here.

What’s going on?

Chase shook his head in disbelief. I can’t believe he did this.

Jack studied Jonas’ face with interest. “The only reason you needed to bring your brother is because we needed Alex to follow. You didn’t think she’d come all this way to follow you, did you?”

Something inside Alex chilled.

Jonas’s mouth hung open for a mere second before his expression turned colder than Alex felt. “Why do you need Alex?”

“The message appeared this morning, but you probably can’t see it anymore. I’m guessing you no longer want to see it considering you ran way last night.”

Alex wondered why all these spirits weren’t running away now, now that they’d seen Jack among themselves. Everyone hated Jack! They ridiculed him! It felt like some alternate universe. But glancing at their faces, she realized that everyone hovering above her was similar to Reuben and the Bonds. They were each quiet, or meager, or misfit, or eager to get ahead.

“There is much knowledge to be had when you have ancestors to tell you what teachers will not.” Jack beamed proudly at Joey Rellingsworth, who shifted uncomfortably. “Blood runs thick, Jonas, something you don’t understand.”

Alex’s head was spinning. Why did Jack need to arrange this rendezvous at Eskers? He could have set her up easily at school.

Because he needed you off campus, Chase answered for Alex. He has no power there, but here it’s a different story.

“You’re absolutely sure she’s the one they want?” Hecker whispered to Jack.

“Oh, it’s her. The ghost of a prophet. I’m definitely right. And so”—Jack pointed to Chase and Jonas—“you two may go.”

“You expect us to just leave her?” Chase asked.

Jonas stood statue-still, his face blank, staring at nothing.

Hecker spoke quietly. “You have to do what you have to do. And so do we.”

“Am I supposed to know what that means?”

“We don’t have a choice anymore. If you won’t step aside, we will force you aside.”

“Step four,” Jack added quietly. “Harrowing.”

What is harrowing? Alex thought to Chase.

Chase’s voice came out steady and confident. “Harrowing? Do you realize how long it takes to break a mind?”

“Of course,” Jack muttered. “We were witness to it last night.”

He’s dead. Chase’s voice pounded in her mind. Van Hanlin is dead.

“You’ll have to beat us for hours? Do you realize what the repercussions are?”

Jack huffed through his horse teeth. “There won’t be any.”

“You aren’t exactly charmed,” Chase said. Alex agreed and wondered why the newburies around them, who knew the Bonds were hardly a symbol of good luck, remained at his side now. Her bewilderment must have leaked into Chase’s head because he pointed at the halo of attackers who stood above them. “What about the rest of you? You would sacrifice your morals, your afterlife, to be a part of this group?”

“The groups on campus are encouraged,” Jack replied. “They’re designed to rally those who are similar. And this is greater than all of those combined.”

Is that why he was doing this? Alex wondered. Was this his way of fighting back? Of reversing the curse he’d been betrothed with? “And you don’t worry at all about the consequences of your actions?”

“What do I have to lose?” Jack crouched down on the jagged wall on which he was positioned. “We’re damned now. We can’t go back to Eidolon.”

“Did you know about this, Jonas?” Chase asked.

Although his brother asked the question, Jonas faced Alex when he replied. “I thought it was like signing myself over to the military.”

Jack threw his hands in the air. “Exactly! Do soldiers fighting a war return as murderers or heroes?”

Alex couldn’t believe his logic. “It depends on what you’re fighting for. This isn’t revolutionary. This isn’t honorable. You’re acting under orders like a bunch of obedient dogs.”

“Jack has a point,” Joey said, ignoring Alex. “Don’t soldiers act under orders?”

”Soldiers know who and what they’re fighting for,” Chase scoffed. “Do you? I bet you don’t. Jonas, did you?”

Jonas did not acknowledge his brother.

“We’re fighting for each other. Because no one else will.” Jack’s eyes traveled the length of the area. “Did you know that after two years they sort us out anyway? If we haven’t made an impression, if they haven’t seen something they can use us for, we don’t get to stay in the city.”

That didn’t make sense. “But the curfew and the rules?”

“Oh, the rules still apply. Why do you think the Patrol exists? This might be an afterlife, but it certainly isn’t heaven. This place is far from perfect. They don’t tell you that after you die.”

Yes, they do, Alex thought. That’s why this life was a choice, she realized. There wouldn’t be a choice at all if the world were perfect.

“And Eviar is for the elite.”

Alex took a step backward because she thought the ground shook below her. “What did you just say?”

“Eviar. This is an old brotherhood, an esteemed one.”

Eviar? How? It couldn’t be the same, could it? Eviar was a person. Dread began to tug at her mind.

“Jack,” she said in a low voice. “I don’t think this is going to turn out well.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t believe the league itself wants to hurt you either. But if you’re in the way, I can’t protect you.”

“Are you listening to yourself? You tried to convince me that the Darwins are the enemy.”

He shook his head. “The Darwins know about all this, I’m sure. Just because they play on the opposite side doesn’t mean their side is the right one.”

“How is this going to help you?”

“We’re already here,” Jack said, glancing at Joey, who nodded and stood up.

“We’re already implemented.” Joey seemed to be trying to convince himself of his own argument.

“It’s not worth arguing anymore,” Chase said to Alex. “These spirits have found a niche. Even if they were willing to jeopardize it, they’ve seen what happened to Gabe. And Van Hanlin.”

Jack stretched a hand to Alex. “We only need you. We don’t have to hurt anyone.”

“No,” Chase said. “Prophets are hunted, Alex. Your mother was killed. There is no way I’m letting you go anywhere with them. We fight. They can’t beat us.”

Hecker guffawed and stuck out his chest, but Alex knew his towering size meant nothing. It didn’t exist anymore.

“This is my fault,” Jonas whispered.

“Yeah, it is. Tell me one thing, though.” Chase took his eyes off their captors. His exterior stayed strong, but Alex could feel something cracking. She reached out her hand, as though to hold him up, to keep him from crumbling. “You thought you were leading me here. Do you really hate me that much?”

Time seemed to stop. There was no danger of attack, only the danger of betrayal. Alex couldn’t bear to look at Jonas, who had no response for his brother.

Chase turned away from Jonas. “We aren’t giving them what they want.”

“Ten to three,” Jonas said. “There’s no guarantee. And I’m sure there are more of them waiting somewhere. We’re outnumbered.”

Alex didn't want Jonas to speak. She hated his voice, hated that he'd put them in this situation. But her hatred didn't change their predicament. She considered the newburies standing above them and knew someone was missing. Jack wouldn’t go anywhere without Calla. She had to be waiting somewhere, and Alex doubted she was alone.

“We can take it,” Chase insisted.

“What if Jonas tells everyone what he saw here?” a girl said in a low voice. “Or his brother, what if he tells?”

“We can’t go back. We can protect each other,” Hecker said. “Isn’t that what this is all about? Maybe that’s our test. There are plenty of other cities.”

Reuben shifted from foot to foot nervously. “I don’t know.”

Joey glared at Reuben disdainfully.

“It’s her choice to come with us willingly or not.” Hecker began to push at the air around him.

Alex could feel it like a gentle wave in the ocean, preceding the more vicious one looming. She watched in the horror while the others mimicked him.

Chase’s voice was confident in her mind. Blast ’em.

Alex had enough enmity bottled inside her to take out an entire town. She could feel the energy gearing, and she cringed in discomfort. Jack saw her face and there was a split second of panic in his eyes, but it was too late. The pressure in her head became too much. She couldn’t hold on any longer. Her hands flew to her head, but she wasn’t foolish enough to think she could actually grab hold of it. The force of her fury escaped and crashed to the ground.

She was liberated, no longer stifled by the fear of harming someone. The effect of the energy was an earthquake shaking the world.

The ground rippled, and spirits flew in various directions, but those who managed to remain on their feet shot blasts back. Before Alex knew it, she was knocked face down by the force of the blow. There was a pain shooting into her neck like she’d been hit with a fifty pound dumbbell.

She rolled onto her back and shoved against the air in another burst of energy, though much weaker than the first. The attackers scattered like ants, making a break for it.

Chase grabbed Alex’s hand and yanked her to her feet, dragging her from the wreckage. Jonas followed, blocking several blows.

“Skye,” Alex reminded them.

“She’ll be better off where she is,” Chase said, sprinting across the yard. “We’re leading them away from her.” He skidded to a stop.

A perimeter of attackers appeared, encircling the yard. Alex’s heart dropped. She was right. A second wave had been waiting, Calla among them.

Chase had a firm grasp on Alex’s hand, and he used his other arm to shove fiercely at the air. He threw the remnants of blackened furniture, which whizzed across the yard, knocking into the attackers. Jonas and Alex followed his lead.

Alex concentrated her energy into each object, holding her hand steady before flicking her wrist like she was tossing a Frisbee. The debris obeyed and shot toward her targets with the velocity of a bullet leaving a gun.

Each time a desk or a bed took out one of their fighters, two more seemed to reappear in their place. Alex felt a blast to arm, a smack to her head, a shot to the leg. Too many hits came at once, and the circle was closing in on them. Alex centered her anger into her core, ready to explode again.

Suddenly, a wind yanked her feet from under her and fell forward. “Oomph,” Alex groaned, landing flat on her face in the dirt. Before she could move, she was jerked backwards across the overgrown weeds, bouncing off the rocks and stray bricks mercilessly. She zigzagged feet first through the bodies of the attackers, screaming in protest. She was leaving Chase and Jonas to fight alone. She clawed at the grass and flailed her arms, but it was useless.

When she finally came to a rest, she was slumped, belly down, on the outskirts of the fray, and Calla was at her side. Calla’s hands opened over Alex’s face, pushing pressure against her. Why wasn’t she fighting? Why was she trying to save Alex?

Then she noticed Jack there, too. “We can’t let her back in,” he ordered.

Alex tried to stand up, but she couldn’t. It was the strangest and most agonizing feeling she’d ever encountered. She knew what she wanted to do, but she couldn’t do it. She wasn’t numb, but she had no control over her movements. It felt like a vise held her in place.

“Just concentrate on keeping her between us. She won’t be able to move,” Jack told his sister icily.

They weren’t trying to protect Alex. They were trying to contain her. She was helpless, useless. Calla and Jack had paralyzed her; how? She could only listen to the sounds of battle. The wind whistled erratically through the air and collided with its targets louder than claps of thunder. If she had closed her eyes, she would have believed she was listening to a hurricane.

“Al-ex?” Chase’s horrified voice climbed above the chaos followed by a muffled groan of pain. “Alex!” he bellowed again.

Alex’s heart began to crumble into a million pieces. She wanted to curse at Calla, scream at her. If she was strong enough to have a gift like this, whether she needed Jack to make it work or not, Calla didn’t need to be a part of a group. The city would have kept her in Brigitta anyway. Then again, maybe that was Calla’s fear. That she’d be forced to stay in a town that ridiculed her.

Chase, Alex gasped inside her head.

Where are you? Even in his thoughts, his voice was choked. Strained.

The Bonds are holding me out here.

Blast through them and run!

I can’t. They’re stronger than me. She couldn’t believe the words even as she thought them.

He growled in fury. You’re not hurt?

Not physically. Alex willed Calla to break her focus, but she didn’t falter, not even when the crowd began to shift toward them. Alex could see Chase and Jonas back to back, holding their own against so many spirits, kicking, shoving, punching at the air, attempting to beat them to death. Thankfully, none of the attackers seemed brave enough to get too close. Instead, they fought equally, waiting for someone else to strike the hardest.

It was Reuben who marched formidably on the outskirts of the group. He side-stepped around the fighters, his doughy face etched in concentration, waiting. And then a crash erupted above Chase and Jonas. They ducked to avoid the impact. When they stood up, whoosh! The blast of the force propelled Chase away from his brother and Alex could only watch in horror. Chase gyrated through the air before crumpling at the crowd’s feet.

Before Chase could recover, Reuben lifted his arms, pausing for only a moment to glance defiantly at the others who had underestimated him. Chase rose like a marionette only to be smashed into the ground again.

Alex screamed silently in her head, trying to thrash, bite, kick, scream, anything, but her body refused to move. It was like crying at the top of her lungs in a soundproof bubble. Chase rose and fell, and rose and fell, flopping around like a lifeless rag doll. The mob scurried to Chase, and Alex could only watch in revulsion. Seeing his disadvantage, they all began to take hits at the body Reuben continued to control.

Alex tried to claw at the ground and fight for what she had lost once before. No, she was sobbing in her head, not him, not him. And her own mind began to ache, to succumb to the pain of it all and try to take some of it away from Chase. And then out of nowhere came the shattering of glass. Kaleb flew from the ruins of the asylum and zipped across the open the field. He rocketed through the mob and the attackers were blown off their feet. Confusion and fury corroded his blue eyes, and in one violent shove to the space around him, he eradicated half the crowd. How could he have so much force in his mind? His mind. Kaleb was fighting without touching anyone, using the force of his energy to knock them aside. Calla and Jack couldn’t paralyze her, because she no longer had a body. They could only be holding her here in her mind. She could still think, and her thoughts were active, so she could still move.

Move something, she commanded herself. She used every ounce of her concentration to elevate a nearby tree branch. She spun it in circles and released it, and the trajectory led directly over Calla’s head.

It broke the twins’ concentration for only a millisecond, but that was all Alex needed. She flung her arm through the air like a right hook, allowing its haste to pummel Calla’s freckled face into the dirt. Alex jumped up and lifted her elbow, slamming all of her anger into the hit.

Calla doubled over. She fell to the ground and began scooting away and searching for her brother, but Jack was already gone. Calla yelped fearfully at Alex before ducking her head and crawling into the woods.

Kaleb was fighting what seemed like five spirits at once, his arms whipping so rapidly his movements blurred. Jonas darted around quickly so no one could strike him. There were spirits sprawled across the battlegrounds, but none of them were Chase.

A large body came rushing toward her. Reuben. Her mind reacted, flashing the image of Kender Federive battling the banshee, and the rest of her acted accordingly. Without knowing how or what she was doing, she spun into the air like a tornado and then scissor-kicked her legs, connecting with the air around his piggish face. The force of it sounded like smacking an open palm on bare skin, but it was enough to knock him on the ground. She leaped over him, and in the fray she found Jack, splitting his shoves between Kaleb and Chase. Alex sprinted into the mass, pushing aside everyone in her way. She stopped several feet from Jack and concentrated, allowing her disappointment and hatred to spiral inside of her.

Something that felt like fire shot Alex between her shoulder blades. She fell forward, crying out in pain.

Jack noticed and he screamed out, “Use the rest of it!”

Joey Rellingsworh held a jagged rock the size of a paperweight. He turned it around in his hand, indecision on his face.

“Do it!” Jack yelled moments before Kaleb slammed into him. Jack’s eyes bulged before he fell. Kaleb lifted his arms and aimed a jolt square into Jack’s chest. Without his sister, Jack was no match for Kaleb.

Behind them, several spirits flocked together. Alex didn’t need to question why. If these newburies were birds of a feather, they were vultures. She ran to them, knowing she would find Chase at their feet. There were at least ten spirits on him, pummeling him with hit after hit, not afraid anymore. Some were throwing pieces of jagged rock. There were too many for Alex to take on alone.

Alex fell to her knees before Chase. For a moment, she held out her hands helplessly, and a sob shot up through her before she slammed herself over him, trying hopelessly to shield him from all angles.

She felt a stinging shot into her back, then her neck. She couldn’t stop her body from convulsing with each strike. But nothing was worse than the silence telling her that Chase was gone. She shut her eyes tight, trying to withstand the agonizing pain, and let out a long, low scream. It lifted into the air and carried through the trees and into the depths of the world.

And then everything went silent.

34

It didn’t feel like her physical death at all. It was like the ending of a fabulous dream, the kind where you don’t dare open your eyes, thinking that maybe if you fight consciousness, the movie reel will resume. And yet you can’t even remember what the dream was about.

In that split second between sleep and awake, all Alex could feel was Chase. It wasn’t like she could feel him lying beside her. It was like he was everywhere. If his smile could become a physical feeling, this would be it. Despite everything Miss Petra had told Alex about the erasing of memories, Alex didn’t doubt for one second that she was tasting Heaven, even if only a spoonful.

Before she could tighten her grip, the comfort was ripped away like pulling the sheets from a warm bed. Alex felt numbed, barren, empty. Her sore head felt heavy, but she could still feel, so that was something, right? So where exactly was she? What exactly was she?

The thought of opening her eyes terrified her. Alex expected she might find herself back in Miss Petra’s classroom with a fresh set of decisions waiting for her, but the scent she caught was not of freshly sharpened pencils and blackboard chalk but hospital smells: starched bed sheets, bleach, and sadness. Her body was stretched out on a stiffly padded cushion.

Had she never died? It was possible that her brain had completely invented Eidolon in some insanely torturous dream, and now she was going to awake in the institution to find a nurse ready to dope her living mind with medication and psychoanalysis. The only good news was that when the true reality hit, it would kill her for sure.

Abruptly, in the midst of her frenzy, a slice of her mind pieced away, opening a space for Chase. He wasn’t far from her.

She opened one eye first. Clipboards lined the wall outside the doorway, and spirits in white coats scuttled past them. Movement from the far corner of her room caused her to jerk upright. Alex focused her eyes only to find a stranger, a boy clutching the seat so tightly his arms trembled. Alex was about to ask him who he was and why he was in her room when he shot up into the air as though the ceiling were magnetic. He slammed mercilessly like a bug on a windshield before crashing back to the ground.

He scrambled back into his chair and glanced at Alex furtively. Alex thought she could have kissed him. He was the very proof she needed. “Are you all right?” she asked, unable to contain the excitement in her voice.

“Go ahead, you can laugh,” he murmured. “The docs say it’s a mental virus spirits can contract, so maybe you’ll be lucky enough one day to experience how much it sucks.”

Alex made a face and covered her nose with her shirt. Thank goodness this time there was no hospital gown, but her head was covered in bandages.

“They put me in here because space is limited, and you’ve been out cold for a while. They didn’t think I’d bother you, but I guess I did,” he said sheepishly. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem.” Alex watched him grip his chair again. “How often do you … uh?” She pointed from the boy to the ceiling and back down again.

“Every few minutes. Good thing there’s a roof. Who knows how far I’d fly if I was outside.”

“How’d you get here then?”

“I projected myself and ran.” He grimaced. “Really fast.”

Alex couldn’t wipe away her smile. She was still alive, well, dead … whatever. She looked at the boy sympathetically. “Can they fix you?”

“They said they’ll just inject something into my head.” He craned his head to look through the doorway. “Do you want me to go get your nurse?”

Alex shook her head. She still existed in this afterlife, yes, but what about Chase? Why could she feel him if he wasn’t here? “Has anyone been here to see me?” she asked the boy.

“No, but I’ve only been here for a few boring hours.” He rested his head against the back of the chair.

Alex began to worry.

“Oh wait; there was one girl who popped in for only a second. She didn’t tell me her name.” He seemed upset by this.

“Was she pretty?”

He looked at his lap. “Well, yeah.”

Alex smiled. “Tall with really long red hair?”

“Yes.”

“Skye Gossamer. That’s her name.”

That meant someone had remembered to pull Skye from the rubble. Jonas must have escaped the battle because besides Chase and Alex, he was the only one who knew where she was hidden.

“A Gossamer, huh? I should have known. I think she said she was going to check on your friend.”

“Do you know which direction she headed?” Alex asked, swinging her feet over the edge of the bed.

“Um, I think that way.” The boy pointed to the right, looking alarmed. “Are you sure you’re okay to get up? From what the nurses were saying, you were pretty much comatose.”

“I feel fine,” Alex assured him. “If the nurse comes while I’m gone, just tell her I didn’t want to catch—” Alex waved her hand at him “—whatever it is you have.”

He might have objected, but instead he rocketed straight up out of his chair again. This time his feet flew up behind him, flipping his body upside down so his toes smacked into the ceiling first and sent him nose-diving back down.

Someone should tie him to the chair, Alex thought merrily.

She padded down the hallway a bit clumsily, a sailor without land legs. She had a slipper on one foot and a sneaker on the other. Her mind must be all sorts of frazzled. Moments from the battle blazed into her head like flashes of lightning: Kaleb bursting through the glass, Reuben thrusting his arms in the air like an insidious puppeteer, Chase’s face coated in black ash.

Alex desperately needed to find him. In that field, they had both been losing what they had left of life—of that she was sure. She didn’t know what had saved them, what had kept them here, but she wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t. She had succumbed to death in those final moments, allowing her mind to think it was suffocating since her heart could no longer feel him, because she believed that Chase was doing the same and she refused to let him leave without her again.

Alex roamed the hallway, keeping her head down. She turned a corner, and warmth overcame her. She took a few more steps before her mind was completely revived, and suddenly she was encased in Chase’s arms. He tucked her deep into his chest, wrapping himself around her again and lifting her from her feet.

The pain in her mind floated upward like the dried seeds of a dandelion. Wishes she didn’t need any more. “I thought you were gone.”

Alex could feel his chin moving back and forth when he shook his head. “You saved me. I don’t know how. I was there, and then I wasn’t. I was alone. Then a second passed, and everyone came back,” he said. “And the pain returned with them. I heard you scream, and I don’t remember anything after that.”

Alex blinked, surprised. “Me too. How long do you think we’ve been here?”

Chase didn’t get a chance to respond before Alex heard familiar voices echoing against the walls. “They’re awake!”

Alex turned to see Gabe and Kaleb frozen in shock, each with an outstretched arm holding back the other, before slinging into motion, barreling down the hall, shoving visitors and dodging patients in their hurry.

Alex ducked inside the huddle so they could embrace her and Chase together. Kaleb stepped back to beam at them, and Gabe lowered his head to his hands, covering the scars the banshee had tattooed on the projection of his face. “Do you know what you’ve put us through? And it would have been my fault if you guys were gone.”

Kaleb smacked Chase playfully. “You have no idea how horrible it was for me to have to peel your lifeless bodies off one another to carry you here.”

“You carried both of us?” Chase asked.

“You didn’t weigh anything, and besides, Alex was wrapped around you like a koala bear.” He shook his head as if to discard the memory. “But, eventually Jonas took Alex.”

Chase’s eyes narrowed. “Where is Jonas?”

Gabe and Kaleb mirrored identical expressions of reservation.

“What?”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Gabe said, gently pushing them all back down the hallway.

“No,” Chase insisted. “We’ll talk about it now.”

Kaleb began to walk. “Let’s at least head back to your room.”

Chase didn’t budge. “Where is he?”

Kaleb sighed. “He’s gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?”

“He took off.” Kaleb shoved his brother into movement. “I’m sure he didn’t want to face the Patrol. We can start looking for him now that you two are okay.”

“I’m sure he didn’t want to face us,” Chase said in a low voice.

Gabe scrunched his brow, and the scar on his forehead bunched together. “What do you mean?”

“It was because of him that we were there in the first place. He admitted that he led me to that field willingly, knowing those newburies would arrive.”

Gabe took a clumsy step back as Chase’s words struck him. Kaleb said nothing but his expression showed no surprise.

“He thought they were taking me, not Alex.”

“No way.” Gabe shook his head adamantly. “He couldn’t have known that.”

“He didn’t deny it,” Alex added gloomily. “He just kept trying to get me out of there.”

“Do you know that for sure?”

Alex stared at Gabe wide-eyed, gesturing to the three of them, who had been victims of the “innocent” experiment to give Jonas his own clout. Now who was naïve?

“Maybe he brought you there to join the alliance,” Gabe said softly, but it sounded like he didn’t even believe his own words.

Kaleb pursed his lips skeptically. “Why would he think that after what happened to you, Gabe?”

“Maybe he thought it would protect you.”

“You’re reaching,” Chase said, shaking his head.

Gabe rubbed his finger over one of his scars absently. “The Patrol didn’t take Jonas with the others, though.”

“They came?”

Kaleb smirked. “Yeah, right after you decided to use yourself as a shield.”

Alex couldn’t help but think that the Patrol had absolutely horrible timing. Again, they arrived after damage was already done.

“How long have we been out?” Chase asked.

“A few weeks.”

Alex gasped. How could so much time have passed? Her fatigue implied the battle had happened only yesterday.

“Yeah,” Kaleb grinned at a passing nurse and twisted to watch her leave. “You woke up once. Both of you, on the same day, but neither of you regained complete consciousness, and then at exactly the same time, you both went out again. Some of the doctors went all berserk about it, and others seemed really excited.”

“Why?”

“You were doing everything in synchronism. Kind of like when you were little. If one of you moved, the other one moved. I overhead the doctors saying that your brain waves were identical.” Kaleb stopped in front of a doorway. “Do you remember anything?”

Alex shook her head.

“No,” Chase replied, and she wondered if he was lying too, if, like her, he couldn’t explain the feeling with words.

Gabe’s curls were standing on end. He put a hand on Chase’s shoulder. “I’m going to go see about getting you guys out of here.” He hurried away, but he stopped halfway down the corridor and leaned against the walls, resting his hands on his thighs.

“He always wants to believe the best in people, doesn’t he?” Kaleb said.

“At least the best in Jonas.” Chase held out a hand to indicate that Alex should enter the room first. “Gabe wasn’t the only one.”

Jonas used to joke that Alex’s innocence, though he deemed it stupidity, would be the death of her, not her disease. He’d used it against her.

“I can’t deny what happened there in that field,” Chase said. “Or the look on his face. I know it’s hard to believe. I don’t want to believe it, and I was there.”

Alex stopped at the center of the room, not quite sure where to go. With one strong scoop, Chase swept her up and placed her on the bed. He fluffed the pillows behind her and kept one hand around her arm as if someone might snatch her away.

Kaleb loitered in the doorway, staring at the floor, like he needed permission to interrupt them.

“Sit down, Kay,” said Chase, and chairs appeared by the bedside. “So, how did you know we were in Parrish?”

Kaleb shrugged. “I didn’t know, but I knew someone had used the parapets on the roof. I was told if I got up there, the waves would take me to wherever you were.”

“How did you know that?”

“The Darwins.”

“What?” Chase and Alex exclaimed simultaneously.

Kaleb shook his head and plopped into one of the chairs. “Believe me, I was shocked, too. They found me wandering around wondering where everyone had gone, and I almost told them to shove it, but something about them seemed so genuine it made me stop and listen. They knew what had happened to Gabe, and they said they wanted to warn me about the rest of us.”

“Wait a minute. Do you think that means they were in the league, too?” Alex asked skeptically. “Why else would they know all of that?”

Kaleb shook his head. “They weren’t a part of that. The way they were talking sounded like they were disgusted by the league. You know what I think? I think their family knew, and I think a lot of other people knew what was going on. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I got to the Eskers. I thought it was another prank or something but then I saw them attacking you.”

Chase scooped his hand under Alex’s. “If you think the Patrol or whoever knew what would happen, why weren’t they there? Why wouldn’t they stop it?”

“You’re missing my point. I think they were there.”

“Watching?”

“Maybe.” Kaleb sat back in his chair, crossing his arms angrily. “Waiting to see how bad it would get.”

“How did the fight end?”

“It ended right after Alex fell on top of you.” He laughed humorlessly. “Do you remember screaming like a damn banshee, Al?”

Alex stared into nothing, tasting the moment of hopelessness again. “Kind of,” she whispered. “But I don’t remember anything after that.”

Kaleb tugged at his ear. “That scream was awful. I knew you had a loud mouth, but that was insane. Your damn yelling was so loud that most of the spirits fighting had to stop and cover themselves. That gave me a clear shot at the newburies who were still jabbing at you. I dove into the air and tackled three at once, and I just started wailing on them.”

“Throwing punches?”

“I was so, so angry. I lost my head. I don’t know what I was thinking, because once your scream ended, I was like a deer surrounded by hunters. I blocked some blows, but most were aimed at my head. I was the new target. And they had those stones.”

“What were those?” Alex asked, remembering the stings and flinching.

“Copper. Thankfully, they split the rock into small pieces, the morons. It wasn’t too powerful. And then the Patrol came flying in like a meteor shower. I don’t think you understand how loud you were. Scream isn’t even the right word for it. And they didn’t pin down those newburies until after you stopped.”

“I really don’t remember doing it, so I have no idea if I could ever do it again.”

Kaleb’s hands flew to his ears. “Don’t try it,” he warned her. “I think I have permanent hearing damage. It’s been horrible trying to listen during workshops because it feels like one ear is pressed against the wall.”

He stood. “Brigitta’s been nuts since the fight.” He walked to window, glancing out.

“Everyone knows?” Alex asked in surprise.

“Well the Patrol arrested twenty-five newburies. Someone was bound to notice. People were asking so many questions that some spirits even starting writing gossip columns and positing them electronically in the vestibule. Guess whose picture was on the first copy?”

“Who?”

“Sephi Anovark.”

“No!”

Kaleb nodded. “Cat’s out of the bag. The teachers were pissed, but what could they do? Everyone had already seen it. That first copy really got everyone’s attention. There were all these theories about witchcraft and mind control.”

Alex didn’t miss the knowing glare Chase gave her.

Kaleb leaned back against the windowsill. “I was there when they were questioning the Eskers kids. They took me back to the Dual Tower to report my statement. Every single one of those kids mentioned ink appearing in their law notebooks.”

Alex suddenly felt nauseated. Was that why Duvall had been circumspect when she’d questioned the ink? And Jack had mentioned Eviar. Her thoughts rearranged themselves over and over, searching for a solution.

“The messages told them what to do. Joey admitted to the copper in the fountain. Jack and Calla admitted to luring in the banshees.”

The door creaked open, and Gabe entered with a grin. It made the scar on his cheek look like a half-moon. “Doc is on her way,” he announced. “Dr. Blaise will take good care of you.”

The doctor who had treated Gabe burst through the doorway with her white coat billowing behind her. “Well, you certainly gave us a scare.”

“Why?”

“You went missing! You!” She gawked at Alex. “Almost had to pull the alarm. We’ve had Ardor Service members, teachers, and government officials breathing down our necks for weeks!”

“Government officials?” Chase asked.

The doctor peered over her glasses and nodded. “The case was turned over to the Service.”

“I just went to find Chase. That’s all.”

The doctor attached something to Alex’s temple before moving over to Chase. “Whatever you do, just don’t scream.”

Kaleb screwed up his face and pulled at his ears.

“Not that I was planning on it,” Alex said sardonically, “but why?”

“You started wailing one night about a week or two ago in your sleep. Thankfully no one was in your room at the time, but you broke every piece of glass within a twenty-foot radius. The joke around here is that you’re half banshee. I had no idea you were the girl who survived the scream.” Dr. Blaise tipped her pencil towards Chase. “You started screaming at the same time. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you both woke up simultaneously. I’ve never seen anything like this. The research staff is going ballistic.”

Chase tightened his grip on Alex. “Does that mean we’re going to be here for a while?”

“We do need to make sure that you’re allowed, er, I mean strong enough to leave. Not to mention that legally, we cannot let you go until the Ardor Service clears it.”

“Why?”

“Because you were found at the scene of a crime, that’s why. They need your statements.” Dr. Blaise turned to Gabe. “I need to run a few tests on these two. Visitors are going to have to leave. And I’m sure you’re sick of being in this building.”

“It’s like home,” Gabe stopped in the doorway. “Do you have an idea of when they may be discharged?”

“You can come back tomorrow. I’ll have more news for you then.”

“Good to see you two conscious,” Kaleb said, smiling faintly. They exited, and he began to whisper heatedly in Gabe’s ear.

Thankfully, Dr. Blaise allowed Alex to remain in Chase’s room. They wouldn’t have been able to sleep even if they’d wanted to. A continuous stream of doctors bustled in and out, interrupting their recounts of what had happened during the battle, and in the middle of the night, they were visited by Ardor Westfall.

“Has Van Hanlin been found?” Alex asked quietly.

Westfall let out a sigh. “He’s neither turned up dead or alive.”

“Jonas said he saw his body.”

“If that's the case, he's still alive. Without a mind, a spirit can't formulate the projection of a body. We can’t exactly question Jonas Lasalle, but, we’ll keep searching. You’ll make us aware if he tries to make contact, I’m sure.” He glanced at them warily. “None of the other newburies we detained claim to have seen Professor Van Hanlin attacked.”

Alex shared a look with Chase. “What will happen to those newburies?”

“They’ll be detained for a while. Questioned. Analyzed. That ink didn’t appear in their notebooks exclusively. The residue of the ink is actually in every single law notebook on campus.”

“What?” Alex exclaimed.

“The only spirits who could see the words were the ones who were looking for it. I’m sure you’ve discussed this during your therapy sessions, but young spirits are often searching for acceptance, and those particular spirits needed it more than others. And they found it. They found camaraderie and a sense of belonging within their recruitment.”

“How is ink like that possible?” Chase asked, shooting Alex a look that screamed I told you so. “Sounds dangerous.”

“The mind is a fascinating thing. There’s much we can’t see even when we know what we’re looking for … and there’s much we’re blind to when we don’t.”

“Do you have any idea who the group may have been?” Chase asked, digging his elbow into Alex’s side.

“I’ve seen this kind of ink used before, and the user had the ability to sway the decisions of others. The recruits who read the ink were not possessed. They never blacked out doing the things they did. They knew what they were doing when they did it, but they didn’t understand why.”

Alex felt a headache creeping in. “Jack said the group was called Eviar.”

Westfall didn’t immediately respond, and that in itself was confirmation. “Eviar is a group of inmates. They were ingenious, but they didn’t quite know how to control their minds.”

“Inmates?” Alex asked.

“From Paradise, yes.”

“Then how come Ellington didn’t know about the name?”

Westfall raised an eyebrow. “They didn’t adopt that name until after they were released from Paradise, a release that I approved but Van Hanlin ordered. He thought they could be of use. I thought they could be watched, tamed, useful during the war. We were arrogant. And wrong.”

“Van Hanlin,” Chase said. “And the ink showed up in law notebooks. You think Van Hanlin is responsible for all this?”

“No. He was working with us.”

“You knew what was going on?”

“Bits and pieces.”

Alex remembered his entrance in Moribund. “You knew the banshee was near the haunted house.”

Westfall nodded.

“And you and Duvall were talking about Eviar that day during her ABC group. Did you know she was going to send me to Parrish?”

“We needed to track the group. And we needed to see the extent of what the recruits would do and how you would handle it. We wouldn’t allow anyone to get hurt.”

“Van Hanlin is missing.”

“His mistakes continue to haunt him.”

Chase balled his hands. “We’ve been passed out for a month!”

“Newburies are tested throughout their entire stay at Brigitta. You’d better get used to it,” Westfall replied.

Alex placed a hand over one of Chase’s fists. She didn’t particularly like Westfall, but if he was giving out answers, she’d take all she could get. “Was Eviar named after one of its members?”

“Yes.”

Alex closed her eyes. So Eviar had found Paradise, after all.

“I was convinced they would help us to win the war, but I should have realized they had a different agenda. Eventually Eviar was dismantled with the help of a friend of mine, a prophet I’m sure you’d heard of by now. Sephi Anovark sacrificed her life to end the antics of that godforsaken brotherhood.”

“Sephi found them?”

Westfall nodded. “Sephi was responsible for the detainment of many spirits. You understand now why people wanted her dead. Why they might want you dead, if they think you can see their crimes before they happen?”

“So Eviar was responsible for what happened to us?”

“Seeing as how the founder of Eviar—not to mention the rest of the inmates released—are dead, we can’t say for sure. It might still be a copycat situation.”

Alex wanted to sink right through the mattress of the hospital bed. Eviar had died. And Sephi had died. That was the ending to the letters.

“So we may never know who would want to rebuild an army?” Chase asked.

“My concern,” said Westfall “is not so much who, but why.”

* * *

On the morning Chase and Alex were to be released from the Medical Center, Kaleb and Gabe arrived to escort them home. Alex couldn’t understand why Kaleb insisted it was necessary until they left the building to find crowds gathered, bordering the sides of the street. Most spirits watched her in fascination, others waved, and some held photos of Sephi. Alex spotted Ardor Westfall patrolling through the spectators, and she couldn’t decide if this made her feel safe or not.

She was relieved to reach the seclusion of the Brigitta campus and immediately excused herself to visit the learning center. “I have someone I need to talk to.”

Chase glanced in the direction of the school and made a face. “Do I need to remind you that Duvall led you to the Eskers that night? She put you in that situation.”

“I know. That’s the whole point.”

Alex entered the abandoned school and only heard her hollow footsteps after she wondered why she made no noise. Most of the doors to the classrooms were closed, but something told Alex that the one she was headed for would be wide open, the steam from a mind-bending concoction wafting into the hallway. Sure enough, the closer she inched to the ABC room, the thicker the smell of rotten eggs and gasoline permeated the air.

She hesitated in the doorway, watching Duvall lift her arms over a line of flasks. She was like a bat with wings of crocheted yarn. “Awake finally?” Duvall asked.

“You knew that though, right?”

“Not of my own accord.”

Alex hoisted herself up onto the nearest desk. “Did you know who we would be fighting that night?”

Duvall’s voice was low. “There are ways of knowing the pictures that fate has already painted on her canvas. I wasn’t sure of anything but the scene itself.”

“How?”

Duvall click-clacked around the lab table. “I think you’ll discover the answer to that question in due time.”

“If you knew what was going to happen, why would you let us go?”

“Because that was the plan.”

Alex twirled her hair nervously. “I want to ask you about a student you had a little over a hundred years ago.”

Duvall chuckled. “What makes you think I’d remember a child from so long ago?”

“Just a hunch. Sephi Anovark?”

Duvall’s bony fingers clenched the edge of the table. “No doubt you saw that blasted column.”

“I already knew about her. You knew I looked like her. Why didn’t you tell me earlier? It would have explained a lot.”

“That isn’t what made me curious about you,” Duvall replied. “But the staff thought it was best if you remained unaware about your appearance at least until you became adjusted to this world.”

“Why?”

“It isn’t easy being a prophet or to be associated with one. Much like it isn’t easy to be a witch. You see, prophets and witches are categorized together as the gifted. Sephi was an instant target. Witches and prophets are not safe in the spiritual world, which is why I never leave this campus.” Duvall studied Alex with a look of determination. “Your mother learned that the hard way.”

“My mother? So was she a witch? Or a prophet?”

“Neither.”

Alex threw her hands in the air, exasperated.

“But she resembled Sephi Anovark enough for the spiritual world to become hysterical. People thought she lied about her abilities. Right away, the government assumed she was gifted and employed her to help them. She went digging for answers about her ancestry and it led her back to your hometown. She never came back. Ardor Westfall thought it best that you remain ignorant so your fate would not mirror hers.”

“Sephi’s family was killed, right?”

Duvall responded quietly. “Yes.”

“So let me get this straight. My mother had no prophetic talent and no possible relationship to this girl, but she was killed simply because she looked like her? That doesn’t make sense.”

“Magic scares people. Enough people were terrified of Sephi Anovark to want to keep any piece of her out of this world forever.”

“What’s to fear?”

“Prophets can see things about people, things that they might want to keep concealed. Many people believed that events occurred because she predicted them. Witches know better. Some aspects of fate are written in lead, some in ink.” She paused for several moments, allowing Alex to mull over what she’d said. “People are afraid of those who are different from themselves. I’ve been alive a long time, and that is something that never seems to change.”

But one person had never been afraid of Sephi.

“Professor, do you remember Sephi’s best friend here at Brigitta?”

Duvall puckered her lips in a sour expression.

“You didn’t like him,” Alex added.

“Correct.”

“Who was it?”

Duvall’s eyes flashed angrily like the reflection of an unforgiving sun. “The very person who murdered her.”

Alex recoiled, dread seeping through her.

“He went after her. No one wants to believe it, but evidence of Eviar has been resurfacing all year.”

“Eviar,” Alex squeaked.

“That was the name of his alliance. He certainly was not humble, was he, that Syrus Raive.” Duvall snickered. “Using his own name to label his group only implicated him in twice the number of crimes.”

“His name?”

“Spell it backwards.”

RAIVE. EVIAR.

If Alex had a body, she would have vomited all over the floor. His brotherhood. His name backwards, a nickname Sephi herself had inspired. Backwards thinking.

“Syrus Raive,” Duvall said his name like a curse. “He could infest a mind like a locust. I’m sure he’d heard that Sephi had predicted his death.”

“Was that why he left?”

Duvall reached into a desk drawer and extracted a green plant. She held it next to Alex’s face. “Unfortunately, sometimes we cannot control who we are connected to.”

“I don’t understand.”

She placed the plant back in the drawer before pointing a bony finger at Alex’s head. “She could hear him. Even if he wasn’t speaking. She had no control over it. She had to listen to the thoughts that made him a monster, and he could hear her prophecies. After class one day, she came to me wanting some sort of solution, but unfortunately I had none. She distanced herself, but she couldn’t get Raive out of her head even then. What a cancer. We need to keep our minds closed lest we desire insanity.”

Alex was feeling more and more lightheaded, and she reached out to stabilize herself against the counter. There was no explanation why she was so similar to this girl.

“Sit down,” Duvall ordered. “You just came back to the land of the somewhat living.” She patted Alex’s arm and continued to mix ingredients. “Raive heard Josephine’s thoughts when she went into hiding, and that’s how he found her. She tried to run from it, and she tried to fight it, but the world wouldn’t let her. Some things are just bigger than us. It’s foolish to think that we can manipulate that.” She bit her lip. “I couldn’t predict Syrus Raive’s future as she could, but I could taste his betrayal.”

Alex felt the desire to tell the truth. “I found letters that he wrote to Sephi. He never said his real name. He signed it Eviar. I had no idea it was him.”

Duvall rested her elbow on the edge of the table and leaned towards Alex.

“He seems pretty young. It’s mainly about school. But I can’t read half of them because they’re written in some strange ink.”

“The ink you questioned me about?” Duvall asked. She analyzed Alex like it was the first time she’d ever laid eyes on her. “When did the ink disappear?”

“After I tried to let Chase read them.”

“Hmm, yes, magic is unforgiving sometimes.”

“I can still see half of them.”

“Peculiar,” Duvall whispered. “May I have the opportunity to look at the letters?”

“I don’t know,” Alex said warily. “The last time I tried to show them to someone else, they disappeared on me.”

“I might be able to find a loophole. Where did you find these letters?”

“In Moribund.”

“Isn’t that interesting?” There was dry humor in her tone. “Were they in a box?”

“Yes. How did you know that?”

“If you were able to see the contents of that box, you must have some connection to Sephi, by relation or not.”

“You said it was impossible.”

“I’m a firm believer in the impossible.”

“Didn’t you say before it could be a glitch? If the person didn’t know what they were doing.”

“Oh, they knew what they were doing.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I created that box.”

“You?”

“Of course. I designed it. And that box wouldn’t have shown itself to you unless it felt some sort of allegiance. Whoever put it there wanted to know if you could see it.”

Alex shifted on the desk.

Duvall mumbled under her breath, raking her fingers through her erratic hair and causing it to stand on end.

“Professor?”

She waved her hand towards to door. “I think that’s enough. Go enjoy being awake for a change.”

The fumes in the ABC room, mixed with her confusion, made Alex woozy. She gladly escaped, picking up her pace the closer she came to the exit. Outside, the sun fell over the town like a spotlight. She’d never seen the city so bright.

Chase’s feet dangled from the edge of the picnic table. He lay sprawled in the sunshine with his eyes shut tightly. The light radiated from him so brightly he could have been an angel. He looked so young. She’d never understand how it was possible to love someone so much that she could ignore how terrified it made her.

Chase turned his head and opened his eyes, finding Alex with a smile. When she reached him, he braided his fingers in hers, and pleasant zings of electricity shook her body.

“How was your chat with Professor Crazy?”

Alex blinked against the glare of the sun. “You weren’t listening?”

“Nah.”

Her mind ached thinking of Duvall’s warnings about keeping one’s thoughts to one’s self. “I have a lot to tell you.”

Chase jumped off the picnic table. He slid his arm around her, leading her away from the shade of the towers and into the rays of the sun. “I have a feeling it won’t be a light conversation.”

“It may take a while.”

Chase let out a small laugh and pulled her in close. “Let’s save it for later. We have all the time in world.”

Alex nodded and curled her hand around the edges of a small note, the one she’d found in her pocket at the medical center. A scrawling of an hourglass. Had someone placed it there? Had her mind created it somehow? She wanted desperately to know, but she held her tongue and stuffed the note deeper into her pocket, saving it for another time. Chase was right. They did have time. A luxury she might never get used to.

She stepped away from him and stretched out her arms, opening her palms toward the heavens. And then, she did something she’d never done in life. She twirled. She threw back her head, absorbing the energy of the sunlight, and she spun and spun until her mind became the clouds and her vision became the whirling wind.

Alex had once believed that when she died everything that made her weak— her love, her sadness, her pain—would all spill out of her body and into the world. And maybe once she really truly died, whenever that might be, if ever that might be, her emotions would leave her, since there would be nothing to contain them. They would dissolve into the air until they were nothing, or perhaps even find the closest object to cling to. But not love. Love, she believed, would ride the wind until it found the sky, shining its beauty on the world below.

Perhaps that is the only thing truly immortal.

Content

A. Lynden Rolland
Of Breakable Things

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