Elegy

  “It’s good to see you, too. And it’s good to see you looking so . . . happy.”

  He was referring to my flushed, post-make-out-session appearance, obviously. My blush deepened as Rebecca turned away from the dishes that she’d been washing in the kitchen sink.

  “Oh. Do you two know each other, Amelia?” she asked, clearly surprised.

  “Uh . . . yeah,” I replied awkwardly. “He was . . . at that party that Jillian picked me up from in New Orleans. Felix was one of the nice guys.”

  “Yeah, that’s how we met, too,” Annabel offered, slipping her arm around Felix’s waist. I watched her do so, confused until it hit me: Felix had arrived with Annabel. And they were . . . dating? Felix noticed my confusion, and his grin widened.

  “Annabel brought me for moral support,” he explained. While Rebecca wasn’t looking, Felix used his free, non-Annabel-occupied hand to make air quotes around the phrase “moral support.” The two of them winked meaningfully at me, and I finally understood: Annabel must have contacted Felix for help this weekend, and he had tagged along under the pretense of being her new boyfriend. Funny, they seemed awfully cozy for a fake couple.

  “That’s sweet of you,” Rebecca said, her voice once again muffled by the sounds of clanking dishes. “Just so you kids know: there’s going to be a big family dinner tonight, up at the community center. Y’all are welcome to eat with us, but we figured that you teenagers would want to spend some time away from all the adults. Considering . . . what we have to do tomorrow.”

  The mood among the young Seers grew solemn for a moment. No matter what we had planned for Saturday, tomorrow’s first order of business would be Ruth’s funeral—an event that no one had expected to attend. Not yet, anyway.

  Annabel broke the melancholy silence first, shifting forward from the island and gesturing to the rest of us. “That’s a good idea, Aunt Rebecca. I think we’ll all go outside to talk about what we want to do tonight.”

  Annabel made a sort of round-’em-up circle with one hand. In various states of enthusiasm and reluctance, the rest of us followed her down the back hallway and out onto the patio. Annabel waited until the back door had shut solidly behind Drew and Hayley before she turned toward us with an intent expression. But before she spoke, she caught my eye.

  “Okay if I talk about my ideas for Saturday?” she asked me. “Jillian’s already briefed us on what happened the last two times you guys tried to fight the demons.”

  I blinked back, startled. Then, for lack of anything better to do, I nodded at her and resisted the urge to say “proceed.”

  Now that she apparently had permission, Annabel settled against a deck chair and shifted her messenger bag forward. I’d assumed it was a purse, but as she began to remove strange, witchy-looking items from it, I realized that the bag served as some sort of supply kit. None of the items themselves—candles, spell books, etc.—really surprised me. Not until she pulled out a wide-mouthed jar full of what looked like gray powder.

  “Seer dust?” I hissed. “Seriously? After everything that you guys did at Christmas, and after last week’s disaster in the netherworld, you still think Seer dust is a good idea?”

  Annabel shook her head. “Not Seer dust, Amelia. Transfer Powder.”

  Sensing my confusion, Joshua tugged me closer to him and then leaned forward, toward his cousins. “What exactly is Transfer Powder?”

  “Well, it’s kind of a new invention,” Felix interjected. “We used Voodoo and some Seer spells to create this powder. In fact, Marie even helped.” He flashed a brief smile that was both mischievous and a little sad. “After I convinced her that she needed me to rid the Conjure Café of its ‘wandering spirit.’ Apparently, Gaby broke a lot of expensive bottles while she was invisible.”

  I almost grinned in spite of myself. “What does the powder do?” I asked, moving cautiously toward Annabel and her mysterious offering.

  Still keeping eye contact with me, Annabel lowered her head and smiled darkly. “It transfers supernatural power, from the dead to the living. If you and I both ingest this in a Seer circle and say the right spells, then I should be able to absorb whatever power you’re exhibiting at the time. So for instance, if you go invisible when we both take the powder, we should both be able to turn invisible.”

  “Neat trick,” I murmured, reaching out gingerly to touch the surface of the glass jar.

  “Yeah, but not all that helpful. You see, what we really need is the one thing that Ruth got right about her attack: the one thing that can turn you into a weapon.”

  With a wave of her hand, Annabel gestured at all of me, from my head to the toes of my boots. The gesture meant something, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what. Until suddenly, I could. Then I smiled, too.

  “Glow,” I whispered. “If you all take the powder, then you’ll all be able to glow.”

  Chapter

  TWENTY-ONE

  After some debate, Annabel and I agreed that we couldn’t practice with everyone—there just wasn’t enough Transfer Powder to go around. So that evening, after the older Mayhews gathered at the community center for the dinner, the young Seers and I drove to Robber’s Cave Park, where we could test the powder without too many witnesses.

  We found a relatively secluded fire pit, a good distance into the woods—far enough away from the nearest campgrounds that no one could see our fire burning under the moonless sky, or even hear us scream. Still, I feared that someone might wander past. I paced nervously around the edge of the clearing until Annabel finally shut the spell book she’d been consulting and set it beside her on the rock bench where she’d been sitting.

  “Okay,” she said in a commanding tone. “Now that it’s full dark, shall we get started?”

  “Yes, let’s shall,” Hayley mimicked, and then composed her smile into something more serious when Annabel shot her a disapproving glare. Taking that as their cue, everyone formed a circle around me as I took my place in front of the fire.

  The young Seers linked hands, drawing together until they all stood only a foot from me. Quietly, they began to chant—strange words that would bind and give strength to the spell. I thought that Annabel would be the test subject. But to my surprise, Joshua broke free of the circle and joined me at its center, holding a small handful of Transfer Powder.

  “I don’t think—,” I started, but Joshua cut me off with a shake of his head.

  “Who could make a better guinea pig than me?” he joked, offering me his powder-free hand. Not knowing what else to do, I took it and pulled him closer to me.

  “I don’t like this, Joshua.”

  “What’s the worst that could happen?” When I quirked the corner of my mouth, he laughed softly. “I know, I know: everything. But I’m willing to try, if you are.”

  I hesitated, tugging nervously on my bottom lip with my teeth. Then I lifted my other hand and allowed Joshua to pour half of the powder into it. Once we both held a palmful, I glanced over my shoulder at Annabel, who stood to my right and slightly behind me. She didn’t stop chanting but she jerked her head at us—apparently, as a signal to move forward with the ritual.

  Holding tight to both Joshua and the powder, I closed my eyes and began to whisper my own sort of chant. I ran the word “glow” through my mind like a song. Like a prayer. But the longer I prayed, the more I felt like I was wasting my time. I released a deep sigh and opened my eyes.

  “It’s not working, is it?”

  I didn’t answer Joshua, but instead turned my powder-filled fist over for him to examine its total lack of shimmer. I sighed again and let that hand fall to my side.

  “It’s no use. Like Melissa said, I’ve got to be in some kind of mortal peril for this to happen. Well . . . me or someone I care about.”

  By now, the Seers’ chanting had stopped and they’d dropped hands. They all listened intently to Joshua’s and my conversation. Except . . . two of them weren’t waiting. At the periphery of my vision, I saw Felix take somethin
g from Annabel. Then he began walking toward us with the object raised to chest height. In the shifting firelight, I couldn’t tell what he was carrying until he’d already pointed the small gun directly at Joshua.

  My breath caught in my throat.

  “Put the gun away, Felix,” I finally said, trying very hard to keep my voice even. “Everyone knows that you’re not going to shoot Joshua, just to get me to glow.”

  Felix tilted his head to one side quizzically. “I’m not?” he asked, just before lowering the gun and planting one bullet in the ground near Joshua’s left foot.

  “Whoa!” Joshua shouted, jerking wildly to the side without letting go of my hand. I moved with him, scurrying as far away from Felix as the Seer circle would let me.

  The sound of the gunshot still rang in my ears, so loudly that I almost couldn’t hear myself shriek, “What the hell are you doing? Are you crazy?”

  Felix didn’t respond but instead raised the gun so that it pointed at Joshua’s shoulder. Suddenly, the ringing in my ears silenced, and everything around me seemed to sharpen into focus. Because the cold set of Felix’s mouth told me that he would shoot again . . . if he felt like he had to.

  From somewhere on my right, Annabel spoke in an apologetic tone. “I’m sorry, Amelia, but this is the only way. So you’d better hurry. I don’t know if anyone at the campgrounds heard that shot, but they’re certainly going to hear the next one.”

  My eyes darted to Joshua’s; even in the firelight I could tell that he shared my feelings of panic. We kept staring at each other, silently communicating about what to do next, when Felix began counting down to his next shot.

  “Ten, nine, eight—”

  “Felix, this is ridiculous. I can’t just do this on command like some trained—”

  “Seven, six—”

  “This isn’t fair.” Hysteria edged its way into my voice. “This isn’t how it’s going to happen on Saturday.”

  “Five, four—”

  “Stop,” I pleaded as my eyes started to well up with tears. “Please just stop this.”

  “Three, two,” Felix said flatly, moving his gun so that it now pointed directly at Joshua’s heart.

  “Stop!” I screamed, louder than I’d ever screamed before. And with that scream, the glow ripped across my exposed skin like a wildfire.

  “One,” Felix breathed, dropping the gun to his side. Then, without an apology or explanation, he rushed to rejoin the Seer circle, which had begun to frantically chant again.

  For several incomprehensible seconds, I didn’t really even register that my glow really had reappeared. But when I saw it, dancing brighter than the reflection of firelight in Joshua’s eyes, I realized that our window might close at any second.

  I signaled to Joshua with a flick of my chin. At first, he seemed too dazed to react. But after a violent shake of his head—probably to clear it of sheer terror—he followed me. With our other hands clenched tightly together, we simultaneously raised our powder-filled fists. Then, like some bride and groom at a twisted version of a wedding toast, we tilted our heads back, opened our hands, and dumped as much of the Transfer Powder as we could into our mouths.

  It tasted . . . not great, but not as bad as I’d thought it would, either. Dry and powdery, obviously, but also a little sweet and herby. As I continued to swallow it, I had a sudden flash of memory: my father and I, sitting in the Indian restaurant that he’d insisted we drive all the way to Tulsa to try; in front of us was a near-empty plate of rich, creamy korma, which I’d complained about but had secretly loved. The image vanished with the last traces of powder.

  I raised my head, swallowing around the knot of powder that seemed stuck in my throat, and then peeked at Joshua. He, too, made strange motions with his mouth, as though he had tried to chew a bit of it; not a terribly pleasant effort, judging by the look on his face.

  “Done?” I asked, my voice rough.

  “Done.” Joshua nodded, obviously trying not to gag as he spoke. “So . . . what now?”

  I looked back over my shoulder at Annabel, who was still chanting solemnly with her eyes closed, and then turned back to Joshua.

  “To be honest,” I told him, “I have no freaking clue. I don’t know if we’re supposed to hold hands, or turn in circles, or tap dance, or—”

  Joshua surprised me by darting in for a kiss. His fingers rested softly on my neck, and as we kissed, his thumb stroked my cheek. He tasted gritty from the Transfer Powder, but also impossibly sweet. And his kiss told me that he’d been afraid, too; that I wasn’t the only one scared by Felix’s gun.

  Our kiss lasted a few more seconds. I kept my eyes closed after it ended, leaning back and sighing happily. When I opened my eyes, however, I gasped.

  Before the kiss, Joshua’s skin had looked like that of any normal, living boy. Now it shined with a spectral fire, curling over his arms and face without burning them.

  “Joshua,” I whispered reverently, “you glow.”

  With a disbelieving frown, he lifted his hand. The moment he saw its new light, he jerked backward as though he really had been lit on fire. He waved his hand violently, like that might put out the glow. But soon, his expression shifted from one of horror to wonder.

  “It doesn’t hurt,” he marveled, turning his hand over more slowly. “I always thought it would hurt.”

  “No, it never hurts. In fact, it’s kind of—”

  “Exhilarating,” Joshua finished. He grinned widely and flexed his fingers outward, so that his hand resembled a torch. But then his smile disappeared.

  “How do we even know if it works?” he asked, loud enough that the entire group of Seers could hear. No one replied, but they didn’t need to: the answer struck me, almost as soon as he asked the question.

  “Burn me,” I said softly.

  “What?”

  “Burn me,” I repeated, stepping closer to him. “The glow only works on supernatural beings, and I’m the only supernatural being here. You have to try to burn me.”

  Joshua shook his head, grimacing. “I won’t.”

  “Just try,” I urged. Then, as a weak joke, I warned, “Or Felix might shoot at you again.”

  “No, Amelia . . . just no. And besides, you’re still glowing, too.”

  He had a point. I had no idea what the two different fires might do to each other, and I didn’t necessarily want to find out. So I closed my eyes and focused on something less . . . glow inspiring, I supposed. I pictured the Mayhew family, sitting around their living room, laughing and safe and demon-free; just for laughs, I threw my mom into the image too. However silly, the exercise obviously worked; when I reopened my eyes, the glow had left my skin.

  I glanced up and saw Joshua staring at me in disbelief. “How did you do that?” he asked.

  “I focused on something that didn’t . . . get me too worked up, I guess. Anything calm or safe seems to make it go away.”

  Then I held out my unlit arm to Joshua as an offering. He shook his head again, harder this time.

  “Try,” I said, gesturing emphatically at him with my outstretched arm. “Just one burn. To see if you’ll be able to use the glow against the wraiths on Saturday. One burn, Joshua. For Ruth. For me.”

  I thought he would refuse me again, but instead he shot his hand forward like a snake and wrapped his fingers, hard, around my wrist. Although we’d previously touched without hurting each other, Joshua must have decided to take the exercise seriously because it felt as though his hand was a hot iron on my wrist. My brain had barely registered the searing pain before I was yanking my arm back with a cry.

  “Holy hell,” I gasped, and immediately, Joshua’s glow extinguished. He rushed forward to comfort me, and it took everything I had not to shy away from him. With a slight, reflexive twinge of fear, I allowed him to take my arm carefully into his hand again.

  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he said, talking fast, as though the speed at which he spoke might heal the pink, hand-shaped welt that had started to
form around my wrist. As my burned skin darkened and wrinkled, I shook my head in awe.

  It had worked: I’d transferred one of my greatest weapons into another being. And with that, another piece of my plan to destroy the netherworld gateway snapped into place.

  Chapter

  TWENTY-TWO

  Joshua couldn’t stop apologizing. Lying tangled with him in his bed that night, I constantly had to reassure him that I wasn’t angry. But even as I helped him with his tie and suit coat the next morning, he kept running his hands lightly over my burn and wincing.

  “I hate this.” He motioned once again to the nasty pink welt on my wrist.

  “I know you do. But you might stop regretting it, come Saturday night.”

  “I don’t think I will,” he said, moving away from me so that he could slip on a pair of shiny, rarely worn dress shoes. “I hurt you. And I . . . I meant to.”

  I gave him a small, close-lipped smile and checked my reflection in his dresser mirror; I’d done my own makeup this morning, in an attempt to look more put together for his family. Then I pulled on the elbow-length black gloves that Jillian had lent me—now, a necessary addition to my funeral outfit.

  “Good,” I told him. “I’m glad you meant to use your new powers. So now you’ll know exactly what to do if one of those wraith minions attacks you.”

  “What if an actual demon attacks me?”

  Trying not to cringe, I swept some imaginary lint from the hem of my black dress. “As far as I know, the same rules apply to them. But please: stay out of their range, okay?”

  “Not happening,” he said, coming over to wrap his arms around my waist. “I’m staying close to you all night.”

  When I made a little humph sound, he grabbed my unburned hand and placed it on his chest.

  “Just like I’m staying close to you for the next two days,” he said quietly.

  Two days, I thought. Only two days. All I could do was lay my head on his chest, next to my hand. After a while, I sighed, pressing myself backward to look up at him.