“I’ll drive you,” Kevin offered.
Oh, Lark, please stay asleep. Just for a little while longer. Please, please.
“Are you sure? It’s an ugly car.”
He smiled, and it was like watching the moon rise from behind the veil. So bright. “I don’t mind.”
Mason clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll meet you there, man.”
The keys were already in the...thing. What was that called? The ignition? I managed to clomp around the back to the passenger side. Kevin opened the door for me. I smiled. “Thanks.”
I pulled the seat belt across Lark’s body and buckled it. No need for both of us to be ghosts. Kevin climbed in, fastened his belt and then started the engine. He glanced around at the interior.
“Wow,” he said. “It really is hideous.”
I laughed. “Isn’t it?”
He grinned, adjusted the stick thing and then made the vehicle move. “It’s weird, being able to actually talk to you, and have you be more than a voice in my head.”
“I know.” I sneaked a glance at him. “It’s nice.” There were so many things I wanted to say to him, but they all seemed so foolish now that I had the chance. We’d talked a few times over the past year and a bit, but this seemed much more...intimate. I could touch him if I wanted. Smell him. Feel his warmth.
I never realized just how cold I was all the time.
“Do you think Lark will help them?”
“Yes.” It wasn’t a lie. “She’ll do what’s right.” It just took a little prodding to get her there sometimes.
“Good.” He turned his head toward me just for a second before looking back at the road. “I can’t believe it’s you in there. Earlier that face looked like it wanted to kill me.”
“She felt ambushed. The song...”
“Did you like it?”
“I did. Lark felt like it was an accusation.”
“It kind of was. She put you through something terrible.”
“She thought she was insane, Kevin. Living with me made her feel that way.” I couldn’t have expected him to understand.
His jaw tightened. “No. She let people make her feel that way. I know what that’s like, and it’s not your fault.”
He was sweet, but he really didn’t understand. “We can’t be friends if you hate her.” It hurt to say the words.
“I don’t hate her. I just think she made some bad choices.”
It sounded like something Lark would have said. As much as I liked him, this was my sister we were discussing. He had to be an only child, because he obviously didn’t know that the only person who could say anything bad about Lark was me. “She didn’t do it to hurt me. She did it so we could be together.” I had never told anyone that. In fact, Lark and I had only ever talked about it once—shortly after she cut herself. There had been that brief moment when we had actually been together behind the veil. She’d been dead for a few seconds.
It had been wonderful. I never had and never would tell her just how much. Lark and I could touch, but there was always this invisible barrier between us. We were in different worlds, even if they overlapped. To have her with me finally was incredible—and wrong. She didn’t belong in my world, and I couldn’t have let her stay.
Kevin glanced at me again. “Okay.” He only said that one word, but it seemed to mean so much more than that. I smiled.
“Can I...?” I swallowed. “Can I touch you?”
The car swerved as he jerked his head toward me, then back again. “Now?” His voice was strained.
“I just want...” I leaned over and wrapped one of his curls around my finger. His hair was silky, springy—exactly like I’d hoped it would be. I laughed. “I’ve never felt hair other than Lark’s before.”
And this was different from when Lark was awake and I shared her body. Despite the heavy limbs and awkwardness of them, they felt like mine. I was in control, not my sister, and it...it was wonderful. And strange. So strange.
I pulled my hand away, but he caught it and twined his fingers with mine. His hand was warm. Strong. My heart slammed hard against my ribs. Was I going to vomit, or burst into song? I couldn’t tell.
And it wasn’t my heart, not really. It was Lark’s heart. I had to remember that. This wasn’t my body. In this realm I didn’t have a body. I wasn’t real.
But I let Kevin hold Lark’s hand all the way to his house anyway.
LARK
My eyes opened. The first face I saw other than my sister’s belonged to Mace. Funny, but his face was the last thing I remembered seeing before I passed out. God, that vision of Wren eating eyeballs had been gross. Not something I ever wanted to see again.
“Where am I?” I demanded. “Whose bed is this? And why do I smell toothpaste?” I swear on her grave my sister blushed.
Kevin’s freakishly curly head appeared over Mace’s shoulder. “You’re at my house. My bed.”
Well, ew.
“You fainted,” my sister informed me. “I had to wear you for a bit—there was a police officer.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it again.
“It’s okay,” Wren continued, strangely giddy. “They know about me. We’re friends.”
At the same time, I heard Roxi say, “Your sister possessed you when the cop showed up. It was awesome.”
Oh, great. Okay, so Wren possessing me seemed to convince everyone that I’d be on board with helping them, but what the hell had my sister done while running around in my body? I glanced at Kevin, my gaze narrow. She better not have made out with him. I sat up. My head swam a little. I reached out to steady myself, my hand clamping on to something warm and hard.
It was Mace’s shoulder. As soon as my brain settled I jerked my hand away.
“You okay?” he asked.
I nodded, avoiding his gaze. He needed to go away. He was too much of a distraction for me. I couldn’t seem to think around him. All I could think about was that he’d seen me at my weakest, and I could never change that. I owed him my life, and I couldn’t change that, either. That meant that regardless of what I thought of the others, I had to help him. I had to do everything in my power to save him. I might be a living, breathing girl, but I knew ghosts—I could fight them and hurt them—and I had one on my side.
So, I was going to walk into an asylum. A haunted one. I wanted to mention—just in case there was any confusion on the subject—that asylums and hospitals and jails didn’t have one ghost, or even half a dozen ghosts. Most of them, especially the old ones, could have hundreds of ghosts. When I was thirteen my parents took me—and Wren—to London. The Tower of London freaked me out. Wren had to return to the Shadow Lands—where she lived when she wasn’t with me—because the ghosts wouldn’t leave her alone.
There was a different energy to ghosts when they were in this world. The ones that stayed here had issues, and they were agitated, while Shadow Land ghosts were generally more calm. At least that was what Wren told me. I wasn’t there long enough to find out for myself, not really. But the Shadow Lands was like a stepping-stone between dimensions—a place between earth and Heaven, reincarnation...whatever.
“What happened to you earlier?” Roxi asked. She was perched on the dresser near the foot of the bed. Mace and Sarah were on the edge of the bed and Gage and Ben stood against the far wall. My sister was with Kevin. I didn’t like that very much, but at least he wasn’t looking at me like I was Hitler. In fact, he seemed really confused when he looked at me.
Oh, God. She’d made out with him. Didn’t she? She was so lucky she was already dead.
“I don’t know,” I told her honestly. “I had some kind of vision.”
“Of what?” It was Kevin who asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“It could help us.”
I scowled. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”
“But it could help,” he insisted.
I clenched my jaw. “It won’t.” I gave him a look that said if he pushed it I’d punch him in the face.
Instead of continuing the argument, he tilted his head. “That bad?”
I resisted the urge to snort. “I passed out.” Was that bad enough for him? And why was he suddenly being all understanding? I thought he hated me.
“Sorry ’bout that,” Mace apologized. “I didn’t know that would happen.”
I shrugged. “Didn’t think you would have.”
He looked down—at my hand, the one he’d shoved under his shirt. My fingers twitched. I closed them into a fist. “I need to see where you were attacked.”
He didn’t even blink. “Okay. Let’s go.”
“Now?” His girlfriend blinked enough for both of us. “You’re going now? She just woke up.”
Mace rose to his feet and so did I. “He wants to make sure I don’t change my mind,” I remarked with less humor than I intended.
He shot me an unamused look. “Maybe I just want to make sure my friends and I are back to normal as soon as possible. I have to think that spectral wounds aren’t good.”
He was right, they weren’t. In fact, they could be life threatening. It was weird, but he didn’t seem to doubt for a moment that I could fix this, even though I had no freaking idea of how to do just that. “Let’s go, then.”
Wren came toward me. God, there were a lot of people in the room. So many of them depending on me to help them. I didn’t do well with responsibility. “I’m coming with you.”
I shook my head. “You’re not going anywhere near that place until I’ve checked it out.” I turned to Kevin. “Do you have a can of salt I can take with me?”
“Sure,” he said. I had to admit that I liked not having to explain myself. I followed him to the kitchen—everyone else tagging along behind. He took a large can of salt from the pantry and handed it to me. It was full, the seal not even broken. It was a cheap but effective weapon against spirits. I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t care so long as it worked.
“If you’re not back in an hour we’re going to come looking for you,” Ben said. He’d been pretty quiet up until now. Then again, he and Wren could have chatted up a storm and braided each other’s hair while I was out of it, for all I knew.
I shot him a grim smile. “If we’re not back in an hour we’re dead.”
That brought the mood down.
“Why would you say that?” Sarah demanded. She turned to Mace. “Why would she say something like that?”
“Because it’s true,” I retorted.
My sister looked embarrassed. “Lark...”
I held up my hand. “We’ll be fine. I’ll have your friend back in one piece, I promise.”
“You’re our friend, too,” Roxi said softly.
I snorted.
“If you want to be,” Ben added.
There was something in his gaze that freaked me out. He freaked me out—almost as much as Mace, but for different reasons. “Morbid curiosity?” Why else would he seem to be so interested in me? He was probably one of those guys who secretly crushed on goth girls. “Let’s go.”
I pivoted on my heel, toward what I hoped was the back door. Outside I stomped toward Nan’s car.
“We’re taking my car,” came Mace’s voice from behind me.
I swerved toward the Jaguar. It was old and black—cool without screaming, “I have a huge wang!” Good thing he was driving, because I had no idea where the keys to the Beetle were. Whoever drove it here must have still had them.
I tried the passenger door. It was locked. Great. The thing predated auto lock, so I had to wait for him to come around and unlock it for me. I stood there feeling like a loser.
When Mace reached me he didn’t immediately unlock the door. He stood there watching me. Finally, I lifted my chin and met his gaze with a belligerent one of my own. “What?” I wished I’d worn heels so I could be more at his eye level. I found him...intimidating.
“Just so we’re clear, my interest in being your friend isn’t morbid curiosity.” His tone smarted with indignation. “This is morbid curiosity.” He grabbed my right arm and yanked my sleeve up.
“Hey!” I cried, pulling against his grip. He was way stronger than me and held my arm tight, turning it so that the scar there was fully visible—a long, smooth ridge against my pale skin. He touched it with his other hand—a gentle stroke. It was a violation.
“Don’t,” I choked out. I was tempted to hit him with the can of salt.
His gaze lifted and locked with mine. “That was the scariest day of my life, finding you like that.”
“Oh.” A genius with words was I. Being the center of my own little world, I’d thought only of my own shame, my own feelings. It never occurred to me how finding me must have affected him beyond his opinion of me.
He continued, still staring into my eyes, still holding my arm. He didn’t touch my scar again, though. “Nobody has ever scared me more than you have—that day, and then tonight when you passed out.”
My throat was tight—probably because my heart had jumped into it. A smart-ass retort came to mind, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it. “What do you want from me, Mace? An apology? Fine, I’m sorry.”
The muscle in his jaw twitched. “What I want is for you not to treat me like I’m one of those assholes who doesn’t understand you or treats you like you’re crazy.”
I yanked on my arm again, but he held tight. I knew that if I pretended it hurt he’d let me go. Here was the twisted part—I didn’t want him to let me go. It had been so long since someone, especially a guy, had touched me. “What are you, then?” Did he really expect me to believe that he, of all people, didn’t think I was nuts?
His nostrils flared slightly. “I’m the guy who kicked in a window to get to you. The guy who found you in a pool of your own blood and wrapped your arms in pillowcases to try to stop the bleeding. I’m the guy who prayed for you to live while you begged me to let you die. I don’t want your apology.”
“What the hell do you want? Gratitude? A freaking medal?” I wasn’t yelling, but I was close.
“What do I want?” His fingers tightened on my arm. “Jesus, Lark. I want you to forgive me!”
LARK
I stared at him. “What?”
Mace stared back. There was maybe three inches between us—just enough that I could look at him without going cross-eyed. He took a step backward. I was glad he did, even though my arm felt cold when he let go. “I want you to tell me that I did the right thing.”
“Oh, Mace.” I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. He looked haunted, and I knew all about that. “Yeah, you did. You did the right thing.”
He looked away, raking a hand through his thick hair. He stood with his back to me, hands on his hips. I thought I heard him sniff. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t hug him, I wasn’t very good at it. Should I say something? What?
Then he turned. He didn’t look at me. “Let’s get going.” He unlocked the Jag and opened the passenger door.
“Thanks,” I murmured as I slid inside.
Mace closed the door, then crossed in front of the car to climb in the driver’s side. We buckled our seat belts and he started the engine. Neither of us spoke during the drive to the graveyard. It was secluded and we could park there while poking around close to the asylum grounds without getting too close. Mace would be a magnet for the thing that had marked the group of them. With any luck I’d be able to get a feel for it, or at least get an idea of what we were up against. If our luck went bad, the thing would come for Mace, and maybe kill both of us.
My fingers tightened around the can of salt. Mace and the
others had put their faith in me, were depending on me. Stupid of them, really. Even though I knew most of them wouldn’t have anything to do with me in any other circumstance, I felt like I had to at least try. Besides, it wasn’t as though I was scared of dying. Been there, done that.
Fairfield Cemetery edged up against the grounds of Haven Crest—the asylum had a huge amount of land that the town was apparently thinking of reclaiming. Yeah, good luck with that. They’d better burn, salt and bless every square foot.
“Want to get the gate?” Mace asked when we pulled into the graveyard lane. I unfastened my seat belt and climbed out. There wasn’t any traffic on the quiet side road, although it was after eleven. The only light was the Jag’s headlights casting long, eerie shadows through the wrought-iron bars. There was a chain draped around the rungs, but it was just for show—not locked. I removed it and pulled open the gate so that Mace could drive in. He stopped and waited for me to replace the chain. Then we continued into the graveyard.
“There are other people here,” I remarked after we drove by two cars parked some distance apart.
“They won’t bother us,” Mace said, looking straight ahead.
“How do you know?”
He shot me a disbelieving glance, as though it should be obvious. “They’re busy.”
Suddenly, I understood. Embarrassment heated my face. How could I have not figured that out on my own? “How romantic,” I muttered.
Mace shrugged. “It’s private. Personally, I think it’s disrespectful.” He laughed drily. “You probably think that’s stupid, huh?”
Now I was the one looking at him like he should know better. “The person I love most in the world is a ghost. I think I have a unique perspective on respecting the dead.”
He tilted his head. “I guess you do.”
I stared at him. “Do I agitate you?”
“Yeah. Yeah, you do.” He pulled the car under a large maple tree and put it in Park. He turned to look at me. “But I think you like having that effect on people. Keeps them from getting close.”
I scowled. “You sound like a shrink.”