He grabbed his keys, and had just reached his car when the dream from earlier came washing back. He stayed there, one hand on the driver’s-side door handle, until the memories had peaked and fallen, and then he forced himself to get into the car. He refused to be stuck with Cooper’s issues.
It took more willpower than it should have to turn the car on, and take it out of the driveway, but by the time he reached the town center it was like his body had remembered that the accident hadn’t actually happened to him. The fear and phantasmal pain faded.
To test his recovery, he merged onto the highway, and was gratified to learn that his body didn’t panic. He still drove carefully—Cooper’s memories remained, and would probably be vivid for a while—but he had successfully sloughed off the imprint of terror that he had picked up from Cooper.
Cooper just barely made it through the school day. He found his way home and ate dinner, then faced his room again.
He hadn’t seen Samantha in almost twenty-four hours. In the entire time he had known her, she had never been gone so long.
Might she be gone, for real? If this was over, he didn’t need Brent’s help … but then what? Should he try to go back to his friends and pretend she had never existed?
He wasn’t sure he could handle never knowing who she had been. Didn’t he owe it to her to learn that? People shouldn’t just be able to disappear without anyone noticing.
He tried to fall sleep, but anxiety kept him up. He stared at the shadows in the corners as they crept up, and wondered if they had at last … No, he couldn’t think that way. She couldn’t be gone.
He wasn’t ready for her to be gone, damn it. It was selfish of him, but maybe he was a selfish guy. If there was a possibility she had moved on to where she needed to be, he knew he should be happy for her, but instead he felt empty. She couldn’t just be there one day and gone the next.
He leaned back on the bed and shut his eyes, less because he had any hope of sleep and more because he was so tired he couldn’t keep them open. It was almost one in the morning.
“Cooper!”
He sat up so fast he nearly fell out of bed, just as Samantha tried to fling herself into his arms. It should have been comical the way she bounced off him—but it wasn’t. She looked pale and worn and scared. Her entire form seemed gray and insubstantial. He would have held on to her if he could have, but he knew that trying to would only make her disappear.
“I got lost!” she cried. “I was walking in Brent’s dreams, and then he woke up suddenly and I fell … somewhere … and I got lost! Those things were there, and they could see me, and they wanted to hurt me … and why can’t I cry? Cooper!”
“Samantha …” He didn’t know what to say. She was huddled on the floor and he couldn’t even help her up.
He sat next to her, a little distance away so he didn’t bump into her and displace her. It was awkward, but it was the best he could do.
“I talked to Brent,” he said.
She nodded, her hair—devoid of any extra color, and as plain as her torn jeans and black T-shirt—cascading forward to hide her face.
“He knows someone who might be able to help us. He’s telepathic, you know.” She looked up at that, the fear still on her face, but now mixed with surprise. “Yeah, it was kind of a shock for me, too,” Cooper added. “Maybe that’s how he could see you in the library, or how you could talk to him in his dreams. You can’t normally do that, can you?”
“I don’t know. It was the first time I tried it,” Samantha mumbled. “He kind of heard me when he was awake. I thought maybe he’d be able to hear better when he was sleeping. I’m not going to do it again, though. It was—” Her breath hitched, but she still couldn’t seem to cry. Through all this, her eyes had remained dry.
He put a hand out, and she put one of hers carefully on top of his. He couldn’t feel her, and was pretty sure she couldn’t feel him, but there was something comforting about at least trying to make that kind of contact.
“Brent said this guy he knows believes in magic and supernatural stuff,” Cooper said. “He and I are going over there later today. With more people working on it, I’m sure we’ll be able to figure out who you are and how to help you.”
“A golem?” she said, before sticking out her tongue.
“Who knows?” Cooper watched as her mood lightened, and color literally seeped into her. Green and blue streaks appeared in her hair, and her clothes picked up swirls of color, tonight a fuchsia paisley pattern.
“You look like hell,” Samantha observed.
“Yeah,” he said, his relief at her reappearance finally allowing his body and mind both to relax.
Samantha looked like she was going to say something sharp—probably complain about his being half conscious after she had had such a scare—so Cooper tried to rouse himself, but instead she just shook her head. “You should lie down. You act like you wish it weren’t true some nights, but you keep telling me you need sleep.”
He tried to follow her advice. He thought he might even have drifted off and dreamed for a little while, judging by the bitter taste of adrenaline in his mouth when he woke at three-thirty. That’s when he gave up, stumbled into the shower, and headed to the shop.
Samantha followed closely. He wasn’t even sure she had left his room while he tossed and turned in bed. She obviously didn’t want to be alone. He recalled his nightmare from the hospital as he sat at a corner table after his shift, watching people come and go while he waited for Brent. He remembered the dark creatures coming and tearing her into pieces. She had fought to gather herself back together. She had wept then, but now she had no tears.
Had the darkness devoured her tears? Had it taken her memories?
“Hi, Brent,” Samantha sighed, causing Cooper to jerk his gaze up. He hadn’t noticed Brent come in.
Samantha prepared to scramble out of the way as Brent grabbed the back of her chair and seem poised to sit down.
Instinctively, Cooper said, “Sam’s there.”
Brent hesitated and looked at the chair, which had to appear empty to him. Then he stepped back, anyway, mumbling awkwardly, “Sorry, Samantha. Um. And good morning.”
She waved, but it was obvious Brent couldn’t see her as he circled widely around the chair to drag one over from another table.
“Mind if I get a coffee before we go?” Brent asked. “I didn’t sleep well.”
“Sorry,” Cooper said to be polite. Then he realized he probably was to blame for Brent’s sleepless night. “I’ll get it for you. Black, right?”
Brent nodded, again looking around for Samantha.
She waved both hands in front of his eyes, and said, “Anything, Mr. Telepath?”
Cooper left them there and headed behind the counter.
On his way back to Brent, though, he stopped. Those creatures were writhing around under the table, brushing up against Brent’s legs like some kind of feral cats. Some had scrambled higher and hooked their claws into Brent’s legs, but instead of seeping blood, the wounds emitted a flickering light.
Cooper blinked, and Brent and the table and Samantha were back to normal. Samantha hadn’t seemed to see the creatures this time. Brent hadn’t even reached to brush them away. Was Cooper hallucinating? Sleeplessness could do that.
He swallowed and forced himself to continue walking calmly toward Brent, who was looking at him with concern.
Cooper handed over the coffee silently. Brent took a sip, then cleared his throat and asked, “What did you see, just then?”
“I don’t know.”
Samantha frowned. “Was it them again?”
He nodded reluctantly.
“Right,” Brent said, “then we should get going.”
It took nearly an hour to get to Ryan’s house by public transportation, though Cooper suspected it would have been a fifteen-minute ride by car. They had to walk a couple of blocks after the bus let them off in West Roxbury, and when they got to the house, Cooper was ready to keep
on walking.
He had expected … well, he wasn’t sure. Some little shop with a woman doing tarot readings, or a seedy apartment filled with incense and candles in the windows. West Roxbury had some pretty impressive houses, but Ryan’s put the ones around it to shame. It was surrounded by a wrought-iron fence that concealed a large front yard and some kind of funky tree with low, gnarly branches and red leaves.
Brent banged an antique-looking knocker in the shape of a three-headed monster against the door. The sound seemed to echo.
“Is this guy some kind of millionaire?” Cooper asked.
“Inherited money,” Brent answered. “He says his family was among the country’s founders, and they’ve done well since. He can be a little arrogant about it, but mostly he just doesn’t think in terms of money. It’s fun sometimes and annoying at others.”
The person who answered the door was not an old-money sorcerer. It was Delilah. She wasn’t quite the last person on earth Cooper wanted to see, but he wasn’t happy about it, either.
“Cooper,” Delilah said as she gave him a lazy smile before eyeing Brent coolly. “I overheard someone telling Ryan you two were coming by this morning.”
“I …” Cooper looked at Brent, feeling both panicked and confused now. “We’re just here to …”
“I know you’re here for Ryan,” Delilah said. “If you want me to stick around, Cooper, I can blow off the car wash.”
“What are you doing here?” Cooper finally managed to blurt out.
“I could ask you the same question, Mr. Dropped-off-the-map-all-summer,” Delilah answered with another smile.
“Why don’t you answer him first?” Samantha snapped. “And put on some clothes!”
Startled by Samantha’s retort, Cooper tried to turn a laugh into a cough. Delilah was wearing very short cutoffs and a silky, clinging tank top. It wasn’t unusual for her. What was unusual was the fact that she looked toward Samantha at that moment, before turning back to Cooper to say, “If you were coming here for help, I figured there was probably a reason you were avoiding all of us. I thought—”
“Delilah, didn’t you say you had a social obligation to attend?” The polished, male voice that came from behind Delilah made Cooper breathe a sigh of relief.
Delilah rolled her eyes. “You sure you don’t want me to stick around, Coop?”
“I’ll see you later,” Cooper replied firmly. He didn’t know what she was doing at Ryan’s place—maybe there was a perfectly reasonable explanation—but he knew he couldn’t handle his old life and this weird, paranormal nightmare mingling just yet.
“I’ll hold you to that,” she said. “Come by the car wash?”
“Maybe.”
“No maybes,” Delilah responded. “Just be there. See you, Ryan.”
She brushed past him and walked toward the driveway.
“Skank,” Samantha mumbled. “Seriously, could she be any more all over you? I thought you said she didn’t date football players.”
Cooper turned his attention back to the guy who had just greeted him.
Ryan was far from the wizened old man in dusty robes Cooper had pictured when Brent described him. Instead, Ryan seemed to be in his mid-twenties, and though he wore a ring and a necklace, each of a metal darker than silver and inset with arcane symbols, that was the extent of his sorcerer paraphernalia. His hair was dark blond, cut short, his eyes were blue-gray, and he didn’t seem to have any piercings or tattoos unless they were hidden by his utterly normal khaki pants and T-shirt. The only thing that struck Cooper was that he was barefoot, but since he was standing in his own house, even that wasn’t so strange.
“Sorry about Delilah,” Ryan said. “She tends to be more persistent than wise. I take it you’re Cooper Blake?” Cooper nodded, and Ryan offered his hand. “Ryan le Coire. Please, come in.”
Cooper wondered if he was supposed to introduce Samantha, too. Considering Ryan would learn about her sooner or later, it seemed rude to just ignore her now.
“Can you see—” He broke off, because if Ryan could see Samantha, he probably would have spoken to her or at least looked at her since coming to the door.
Brent took over. “Cooper’s not the only one looking for help,” he explained briefly. “Somewhere around here is Samantha, who, as far as we can tell, is a ghost.”
Ryan didn’t even blink with surprise. He let out a thoughtful “hmm” and then turned to lead them farther into the house. “We can talk in my study.”
Brent followed, and Cooper started to do the same, until he heard Samantha shout, “Hey!” He looked back, and saw her slam her fist into the empty doorway. It bounced back the same way she did when she tried to touch people. “I’m stuck.”
Feeling a little crazy talking to a new person this way, Cooper nevertheless managed to say, “Samantha can’t get through the doorway.”
“She can come in when I say she can,” Ryan said, “and I intend to get a little more information before I extend such an invitation.”
“How—”
Ryan cut Cooper off with a wave. “Come upstairs. We’ll discuss all this at length.” Cooper hesitated, looking back at Samantha, who was frowning, until Ryan added, “Or you could leave. When you make up your mind, Brent knows the way.” He walked off, probably perfectly certain that Cooper had to follow, since he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t need the help.
“I’ll be back soon,” Cooper said to Samantha.
“Maybe I’ll go haunt your girlfriend while you’re gone,” Samantha replied, pouting.
“I told you, she’s not—look, Samantha, I’ve got to go. Remember this is for your sake, too.”
Samantha nodded, but she looked sad and nervous. Cooper didn’t want to leave her, especially after seeing the beasts around her again earlier, but what else could he do?
Brent watched Cooper look around as they crossed the foyer and climbed the elaborately carved staircase to the second floor. Cooper frowned at the sunlight streaming through windows that appeared to be closely covered from the outside. He stopped on the stairs to stare at the front hall again, and Brent was sure he was doing the same thing everyone did the first time they entered the le Coire manor: mentally measuring the room, and comparing it to the house outside.
The two didn’t match.
And Cooper didn’t even know about the back garden, where acres of land were hidden inside a tall fence beyond which the world appeared docile and quiet, without a hint of the urban development that existed in the real world.
Cooper’s question as they ascended the stairs, however, had nothing to do with any of that.
“You and Delilah know each other?”
Brent paused, debating how much detail to go into. His relationship with Delilah had been awkward enough that he didn’t enjoy discussing it, but it seemed some explanation was necessary. “We dated for a few months.”
“Wow.”
Amused by Cooper’s apparent awe, Brent repeated, “Wow?”
“I didn’t know she dated,” Cooper said. “I know a lot of guys who tried, and some who managed first dates when she wanted someone to hang on for a party or dance or something, but no one she dated for any length of time.” He shook his head. “Nothing personal, but it’s kind of as surprising as finding her here. Is she—” Brent couldn’t hear Cooper’s thoughts as well in le Coire’s place, but he could guess what was going through his head as he blushed and asked, “Can she read minds, too?”
“She wishes she could,” Brent answered, recalling the many times Delilah had lambasted him about not using his ability to its full potential. “But no, she’s more like Ryan. She works with power. In all honesty, after what happened in the library, I thought about just calling her and saying ‘He’s your friend. You deal with it.’ Her magic is more likely to be useful to you than my telepathy.”
“Then why didn’t you?” Cooper asked, his tone more curious than upset.
“I didn’t trust her with you,” Brent answered honestly. “She’
s the one who told Ryan about me, and I’m grateful she did, but I figured out pretty soon that she did it mostly to get back in his good graces. She’s reckless with her power and doesn’t have any qualms about putting people around her in danger. You’re her friend, so it’s possible she would be more careful with you, but I’m not really sure how much her friendship means.”
“And you and I knew each other so well you decided to protect me?” Cooper joked.
“What can I say? I felt sorry for Samantha, having to spend all her time with you.”
Cooper laughed. “We should probably catch up to Ryan.”
They dropped the subject, which was good, since Brent didn’t think Cooper would take it well if he told him the whole truth: Brent had been fascinated by the rhythm of Cooper’s thoughts, so unlike most people he had met. Once he learned the whole story of his accident, that interest had turned to pity, and a sense of obligation. Cooper didn’t seem like the type who wanted to be pitied.
Ryan’s study was the only room on the second floor of the le Coire manor Brent had ever been allowed to enter. On the far wall were bookshelves with locking frosted-glass doors. Brent had seen them opened once or twice, but only by Ryan. No one came into this room without his permission. Like the front door, the magic of the house itself enforced that rule.
Aside from a massive mahogany desk with a black ink blotter and a collection of pens—ranging from disposable ballpoints, tossed casually on the desktop, to glass dip-pens and gold fountain pens carefully set in velvet holders—the room held a forest-green suede couch with a matching armchair, and end tables with ivory and jade inlay beneath their glass tops. Ryan had already settled himself in the high-backed leather desk chair, while Cooper froze like a deer in headlights. Brent knew he had done the same the first time he had walked into this house last winter—it felt more like a museum than a place people lived in—but now he just settled comfortably on the couch. Cooper finally perched awkwardly on the opposite side of the couch, seeming too tense to lean back.