“Time to go downstairs for the family breakfast.”
“I know,” he said, sighing too.
He took my hand from his chest, gave the back of it a tender kiss, and then led me out of his room. Halfway down the staircase, he released my hand so that I could go invisible. I let the current run over my skin just as we hit the bottom of the stairs, wishing for a moment that I didn’t have to keep up the pretense that I hadn’t slept there the night before.
When we entered the kitchen, I was surprised to find that most of Joshua’s extended family—aunts, uncles, and cousins—had already packed into the space and were milling around with mugs of coffee and handfuls of Jeremiah’s breakfast pastries. I scanned the crowd and was relieved to see that Felix hadn’t joined them. I still hadn’t forgiven him for the previous night; I wasn’t even sure if I could.
Although the Mayhews’ kitchen was huge, I couldn’t find a spare corner where I could hide without touching anybody. Finally, I had to separate from Joshua and move toward the back hallway. I settled against the wall, waiting until someone gave the signal that it was time for everyone to leave for the funeral.
Luckily, my wait wasn’t entirely wasted. Farther into the kitchen but close enough to be within eavesdropping range, Annabel and Drew had their heads together in a heated debate.
“I still think we should be there,” Annabel hissed. “To make sure they don’t ask the wrong people.”
“And I still think that’s not going to work,” Drew countered. “That school has only got, like, a hundred people in it. You think they’re not going to notice if a bunch of people show up who don’t go to the school?”
I bristled. Obviously Annabel and Drew were talking about the Wilburton High prom, and whether or not we would pick the “wrong” people to bolster our ranks Saturday. The conversation reminded me, unpleasantly, of Ruth: this type of micromanagement was just her style. Still, Annabel had a point. She and her cohorts were far better trained as Seers than Joshua or Jillian; if anyone could recognize netherworld-opening potential in civilians, it was the young New Orleans Seers.
But that didn’t mean I had to like it.
Without letting myself go visible, I scooted closer to Annabel and whispered, “What, Annabel, you didn’t get enough of prom when you were actually in high school?”
I was petty enough to enjoy it when Annabel and Drew jumped a little. Both of them scanned the crowd of their relatives, searching. Finally, Annabel’s gaze landed on me. Or, at least, on a spot close to where I stood.
“Funny,” she said in a flat tone that told me she didn’t think my practical joke was funny at all.
Although she couldn’t see me, I smirked. “Almost as funny as a bunch of twentysomethings crashing a small-town prom because they don’t trust a ghost to recognize supernatural potential.”
“Whatever,” Annabel snapped. “What age should you be now? Forty?”
“Girls,” Drew hissed, using both his hands to do the universal, palms-down gesture of “chill out.” Annabel and I both blinked for a moment—I don’t think either of us realized that we’d crossed the boundaries of cattiness, until we blew right past them.
“Sorry, Annabel.” I unfolded my arms out of the defensive position that they’d taken across my chest. “I guess I was just pissed that you questioned Joshua and me.”
“It’s a good plan,” she offered, in a far lighter tone than earlier. “Getting newbies to help us—that’s kind of inspired. Especially since they’ll probably end up being targets anyway. But . . . I still think we should meet the possible recruits too. Just to be safe.”
“Okay,” I conceded. “I agree, then. We do like we discussed: lure the non-Seers out of prom for a few minutes, convince them to join us for the fight that night, and then go make our final preparations. Together.”
“What about Hayley?” Drew asked. Then, reluctantly, he added, “And Felix?”
His tone made me wonder whether the decision to threaten Joshua and me with a firearm hadn’t been unanimous after all.
“Do they really need to go, or can it just be you guys? I mean, Felix could just hang back, and prep for the battle. . . .”
Annabel shook her head and gave a dismissive wave. “Let’s deal with your Felix issues later, okay? What I’d really like to know is how Amelia plans to do it. I mean, to convince Joshua and Jillian’s friends that this threat is legit.”
I’d just opened my mouth to answer her, when Jeremiah started to call out above all the chatter.
“Everyone? Everyone, it’s ten thirty. The limos for the family are here.”
He spoke at a professional clip, trying to organize the chaos. But he was clearly trying to keep it together, too—I could see the heavy lines of grief and exhaustion around his eyes and mouth. I resolved to drop the demon talk for the next few hours and focus on what mattered most right now: Ruth Mayhew’s memorial.
As the Mayhew family began to file quietly out of the house, I found Joshua and followed him to the limousine. As I approached the long, black car, however, I could see that too many people were piling inside. After a second’s hesitation, I stopped and watched the limo fill up and then drive off—probably with Joshua thinking that I sat somewhere inside with him. Finally, the last car pulled out of the driveway. I waited a few more minutes, just to be safe, and then I allowed myself to go visible with a heavy sigh.
Realizing that I had no time to waste, I began to trudge down the Mayhews’ driveway. But by the time I’d reached the main road, which would eventually lead me to the highway on which the Mayhews’ cemetery was located, I seriously regretted my choice of shoes. Only a few steps on the asphalt of the main road, and I’d decided to go barefoot like I used to.
I’d just paused to slip off my heels when an unfamiliar car with rental plates pulled over in front of me on the shoulder of the road. With my toes still caught in the top of my left shoe, I stumbled backward slightly. I didn’t know why, but I suddenly had the instinct to run. When the door opened, however, I relaxed a bit: I recognized the man stepping out of the car, although I wasn’t particularly happy to see him.
“Hello, Felix,” I said drily, slipping my left foot back into its shoe. “Stopping by to wing me with your forty-five?”
Felix paused halfway between me and the bumper of his car and slipped his hands into the pockets of his funeral blazer. After a beat, he cleared his throat awkwardly.
“It wasn’t technically my forty-five.”
“Oh, well, that makes everything better.”
Felix shook his head, cringing at my tone. “Amelia, I really am sorry about that. I didn’t want to do it, but . . . but . . .”
“But what?” I snapped. “But you thought threatening us with a machete would have been less effective than a semiautomatic?”
Felix’s contrite frown transformed abruptly into a scowl. He jerked his hands from his pockets and threw them into the air angrily.
“God, Amelia, you’re a freaking hypocrite, you know that?”
“I’m . . . I’m a what?”
At first, I was too stunned to get angry. That moment didn’t last long, though—only a few more seconds passed before I was fuming. If I could have touched Felix, I would have stormed over and smacked him right in the face.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Felix, but I’ve never shot at the person you loved, have I?”
“No, you haven’t,” he said, suddenly calmer. “But you would do just about anything to keep Joshua out of hell, right?”
That wasn’t the response I’d expected.
“Right . . . ?” I answered, unsure where he was taking this.
“So would you kill for him?” Felix asked, leaning forward intently. “Would you threaten to kill for him?”
When I didn’t answer right away, Felix pressed me further.
“What about for your mother?” he asked. “Or for your sister, if you had one? Would you do anything—and I mean anything—to get them out of hell? Including pointing a
gun at the one person who might hold the key to their escape?”
Everything clicked into place in my mind, and I slumped out of my defensive stance.
“Felix,” I breathed, moving toward him slightly. “I know you miss Gaby. And I’m trying—I’m really trying—to figure out a way to save her. But . . . a gun?”
“I know.” He sighed and shook his head. “It was Annabel’s idea. But you have to admit: it did get you to use your powers.”
“You couldn’t have tried a less lethal way?”
Felix lifted one shoulder in a shrug—on him, the movement looked so much like the shrugs Gaby gave me, when she wanted to pretend she didn’t care.
“You’re right,” he said softly. “I shouldn’t have said yes. And I’m sorry.”
Here, in his remorse, was my opportunity to secure another part of my slowly forming plan for Saturday night. But did I dare take it? I considered him for a moment longer, before making up my mind.
“Where did the gun come from, anyway?” I asked him, keeping my tone blasé.
He gave a bitter little laugh. “I found it stashed in a desk drawer in the actress’s apartment in New Orleans, before I left. It’s unregistered, as far as I can tell, so I doubt she’s going to come looking for it. If and when she ever gets out of rehab, that is.”
That’s good, I thought. That’s very good.
I flashed Felix my sweetest smile. “Can I see it?”
He hesitated, giving me a wary look. Then he reached into his coat and pulled the gun from his belt. I took it from him carefully, marveling at how heavy it really was. I could feel the coldness of the metal through my gloves. Then I glanced back up at him as innocently as I could and made him an offer.
“Let me keep it for you, in my purse. Just until Sunday morning. You know, in case I get attacked between now and then.”
I didn’t look up from the gun, but I could sense Felix’s reluctance. Finally, he said, “Okay. Just be careful with it, all right? And don’t decide to shoot me, either.”
“Of course,” I said, slipping the handgun into my purse. “I would never shoot at you, Felix. And I promise: I won’t use this unless I have to, to save someone’s life.”
When I made that promise, he relaxed visibly; he even smiled. After a beat, he took a step back and gestured to the car.
“Want a ride to the funeral?” he asked.
I gave him another wide, innocent smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Then, with the gun bumping against my hip through the purse, I followed him to the car.
Chapter
TWENTY-THREE
Ruth’s memorial service lasted longer than any other funeral I’d attended. The number of speakers and eulogizers and gnashers of teeth at this thing was crazy. Of all the people integrally involved in the memorial, I didn’t recognize a single one. Each member of the Mayhew family stayed firmly planted in his or her seat. Even stranger, I caught Jeremiah grinning every now and then.
Finally, I couldn’t stand the mystery any longer. I tilted my head toward Joshua—who had easily forgiven me for being a few minutes late—and, from the corner of my mouth, whispered, “Any explanation for all this?”
He kept his eyes glued to his grandmother’s closed casket, but he smiled just like his father. “Grandma Ruth planned this funeral a long time ago,” he explained quietly. “What you’re watching now is a carefully orchestrated production. Most of those people are members of Ruth’s old coven, and they’re reciting lines from a script she wrote for them. Think of it as . . . funeral theater.”
I shook my head in genuine surprise. Then I started to grin too. It made perfect sense that Ruth’s iron fist would reach out from beyond the grave to control her own funeral. But whatever the intended purpose of this spectacle, it also had an inadvertent—but no less positive—effect: the Mayhews themselves were having a great time watching it. One singer hit an off-key high note, and Jillian suppressed a giggle; a eulogizer called Ruth a “fount of mercy and gentleness,” and Rebecca fought off a snicker. The other members of the family were no exception.
The first truly somber moment came when the funeral-home director called for all the attendees to file past the grave. I took my dutiful place in line and silently thanked Ruth for instructing that her casket be kept closed. Turning away from the sight of all the white flowers piled atop Ruth’s coffin, I focused harder on Joshua so that I could take his hand in mine. He didn’t turn around, but he gave my fingers a firm squeeze. I knew what that squeeze meant: that this part would be far more painful than the actual service. This part would be real.
After paying our respects at the grave, we all returned to our seats but remained standing in front of them. At this point, non–family members came by to give their condolences and their hugs. Then, slowly, they left the cemetery in groups.
While people began wandering toward their cars, I hung back, trying to give Joshua some much-needed alone time with his sister and parents. Soon, Annabel as well as her little sister and parents joined that small gathering, as did Drew and his mother. Together, this group of Ruth’s children and grandchildren talked and cried and even laughed, for almost another hour. And I didn’t mind the wait at all.
I hardly even noticed when, at some point, Felix, Hayley, and Scott joined me in leaning against Felix’s rental car. They all watched with me as the Mayhew family mourned, until Hayley shifted her weight beside me.
“You know, sometimes it’s weird,” she mused. “Loving a Mayhew.”
I arched an eyebrow, surprised at the sentiment—and the insight. “What do you mean, Hayley?”
“It’s just kind of intense: this huge family of Seers and the people who love them. A lot of different abilities, and a lot of different opinions on how to use them.”
“But you’re a Seer, too,” Felix pointed out, stretching forward to meet her gaze. She gave him a sweet but close-lipped smile.
“It’s different with me and my mom. Jeez, it’s different with most Seer families. I mean, do you guys have at least three or four relatives that you can share this burden with?”
I settled further against the car, realizing that I’d been excluded from the question, given that I wasn’t technically a Seer. Still, I listened to Felix’s and Scott’s answers.
“No, man. I don’t have anyone.” Scott shook his head sadly. “The only other Seer that I know I’m related to is my gran . . . but she’s dead now. And I’m not even triggered yet.”
“Yeah,” Felix added. “I didn’t even find out until after my sister died. We were around Voodoo a lot as kids, thanks to my grandfather, but the ghost stuff wasn’t really front and center.”
Hayley and Scott just nodded, obviously reflecting on the perils of being lonely as a Seer. Then, the three of them unexpectedly turned to me.
“What?” I asked, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.
“Is it hard for you, too?” Hayley asked. “Dating a Mayhew?”
“Uh . . . well, I guess dating is hard for me.”
The three of them chuckled, but not cruelly. For the rest of our wait, we shared a companionable silence and I reflected on the fact that, in a way, I would leave earth knowing that I’d made real friends. Which was definitely not a bad thing.
Of course, it did make me feel sort of guilty about what I had in my purse right now and what I intended to do with it on Saturday night, if I had to.
Finally, the group of Mayhews approached us. Jillian got there first and wrapped her arms around Scott’s waist. Next came Drew, who enveloped Hayley in a tight hug. Seeing everyone couple up, Felix rolled his eyes at me with a faint grin and peeled himself off the car so that he could go talk to Annabel a few feet from us. So I craned my neck to find Joshua.
By now, he stood only a few feet from me, talking intently to his aunt Trish. Joshua must have sensed me watching him, because they both glanced over to me at the same time. Trish smiled and gave me a friendly, noncommittal little wave; as far as she probably kn
ew, I was just that strange girl who Rebecca and Jeremiah drove home from New Orleans at Christmas. I waved back, thinking of how much I wished I could interact with Joshua’s family in a normal way. At least during these last two days.
With deliberate slowness—almost as if they wanted to miss the huge family luncheon that Ruth’s old church was holding in her honor—the Mayhews began to pile back into the limo. Instead of joining them, Joshua walked up to me, frowning as though the morning had taken a greater toll on him than he let on. Without saying anything, I concentrated on our touch so that I could slip my arms around his neck and pull him into a hug, which he returned gratefully. We embraced for a few more seconds, before he moved away to take my arm in his.
“This time,” he said, “you’re riding in the limo, and you’re even going to do it visibly. I’ve already asked my parents.”
I smiled, leaning my head on his shoulder as we walked toward the car. “You know I don’t need a fifteen-foot-long sedan to be with you.”
“That’s good,” he said, chuckling low. “Especially since they’re only, like, ten feet long anyway.”
I laughed and then, feeling a little bit intimidated by the sheer size of the limo, ducked into the open door. Joshua guided me to a corner, where he could sit on the only side of my body that might be exposed to one of his relatives. When he wasn’t looking, I tucked my purse with its contraband gently between my feet on the floorboards.
When the limo was full and had started to bump down the uneven cemetery road, Joshua laced his fingers with mine and then ran his thumb slowly down the back of my hand. For some reason, the touch ignited a wild reaction within me, and a furious blush burned its way across my cheeks.
What’s wrong with you? I chastised myself internally. But I already knew the answer. I had, at best, two days left with him. One of those—today—would be mostly occupied with the memory of the grandmother who died defending him; another—Saturday—would be occupied with me . . . doing what I needed to do. Tonight, and only tonight, we had the chance to carve out a few final hours for ourselves. And I couldn’t imagine that I would practice much self-restraint with him, given the circumstances.