Sisters of Salt and Iron

  A little smile curved his mouth. “She’s got you.”

  I snorted. “If Wren goes bad, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop it. But I can’t ask her not to spend time with other ghosts. Noah seems to really like her, and she really likes him. She wouldn’t ask me to leave you. I can’t ask her not to see him.” But I wanted to. I really, really wanted to.

  Ben’s expression softened. “You’re afraid you’re going to lose her.”

  “Well, yeah.” Hadn’t I just said that?

  “No, I mean you’re afraid she’ll pick Noah over you. That he’ll be more important than you are.”

  I shifted a little on the bed. I wasn’t all that skilled at serious talks. “Okay, so I’m jealous. Big deal. She’s never had a boyfriend before.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” He let go of my hand and put his arm around me instead, pulling me against his chest. “You’re afraid she’ll love him more than she loves you, and that’s not going to happen.”

  “You don’t know that,” I said, listening to the beat of his heart.

  “Yeah, I do. Can you imagine ever choosing me over her? Choosing anyone over her?”

  Was this a trick question? I wasn’t sure, but I think it depended on me answering honestly. “No. I’m sorry, but, no.”

  “Don’t apologize. I’d never put you in that position, and you would never do it to her. You don’t have to worry, because there’s no contest. Wren would choose you every time, just like you’d choose her. You two are like...like halves of the same whole.”

  That wasn’t the first time someone had referred to us as such. I thought it a lot myself. Sometimes I used to wonder if we were supposed to be one person, but that somehow we split into two in the womb. It wasn’t until we found out about Emily and Alys that I’d begun to think otherwise.

  I lifted my head and kissed his cheek. “Thanks.”

  He turned his head, his lips brushing mine. Next thing I knew we were stretched out together on the top of the quilt, kissing each other like we had nothing else to do for the next one hundred years.

  I liked Ben so much. Like, a lot. And I knew all that stuff school and books and TV threw at teenagers about sex. It was a responsibility, and not something to be taken lightly. I also knew it was something awesome if you did it right, and I wanted to do it with Ben.

  I was pretty sure he wanted to do it with me, too.

  But he never pushed it. We’d kissed and touched and did a lot of things that felt really good, but he never got upset if I wanted to stop. If I was honest I’d have to admit that there had been a couple of times that I was upset that he stopped. I guess we’d get there whenever we got there. Right now I was just going to really enjoy the trip.

  I had my hands under his shirt and he had his under mine when I heard a strange sound from my bathroom.

  Ben’s head jerked up, his mouth leaving my neck. “Did you hear that?”

  I nodded, slipping my hands out from underneath his Henley. He removed his hands as well, and we both sat up.

  “Wren?” he asked.

  I shrugged. Normally I felt when Wren was nearby—a subtle shift in the air or some extra sense that made her presence known to me. She had the same sense of me. I didn’t feel anything like that, but I did feel something wasn’t quite right, which was reason enough to worry.

  Slowly, I eased off the bed and to my feet. Quietly, I walked toward the bathroom door and pulled it open.

  There, standing in front of the tub, her back to me, was a girl with long, blood-red hair wearing an old-fashioned dress.

  “Wren?” I asked. But it didn’t feel right.

  The girl turned around, and I understood why it hadn’t felt right. This wasn’t my sister. My sister didn’t have eye sockets that were completely filled-in black, and she didn’t have a long gash in her face that dripped blood onto her gown. Blood covered the fingers of her right hand, and in her left, she held a bloody straight razor.

  Her mouth opened, and I braced myself for whatever hellish sound might come out of it, but nothing did. She vanished before she could make a sound, swallowed up in what looked like a cyclone of shadow.

  Dumbfounded, I stared at the words dripping down the white tile.

  HELP ME.

  My heart jammed itself into my throat.

  “What the hell is that?” Ben asked, coming to stand beside me. “Is that blood?”

  “Yeah,” I rasped. If he could see it, too, then it wasn’t just a message for me. It was a message for anyone who could see it—and that made it a haunting, which was never good.

  “Who was that?” he asked. “She looked a little like you.”

  “Alys,” I replied. My pulse was still hammering way too fast. “I think she’s in trouble.”

  * * *

  Ben hung around for another couple of hours until he had to go home for dinner. His parents weren’t terribly strict, but they liked having a big family meal on Sunday nights. I’d been invited to join a few times since we’d started dating, and I went each time, but tonight I had other plans.

  I walked him to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said—hoping that it wasn’t a lie.

  He gave me a hug. “Are you sure you’re okay? I can stay if you want.”

  I shook my head. I’d accept his help researching things and even fighting ghosts, but when it came to situations that involved Emily or Alys—or anything family—I wanted to handle them on my own, or with Wren.

  “You’re awesome,” I told him, pulling free of his arms. “I don’t tell you that enough.”

  Ben smiled. “Feel free to say it whenever the urge hits.”

  We kissed and then he left. Nan appeared at almost the exact moment I closed the door behind him. It was like she had some sort of silent alarm set up to alert her when it was just me and her—and usually Wren—again.

  “I like that boy,” she said as she opened the fridge and starting taking things out to cook.

  I smiled. “I like him, too.”

  “He’s very respectful.” She glanced over her shoulder. “How does pad thai sound for dinner?”

  “Sounds awesome,” I replied. “Can I help?”

  She gestured to a paper-towel-wrapped block on the counter. “You can cut up the tofu and start cooking it.”

  We worked together, side by side, for the next half hour, putting all the ingredients together—crushing peanuts for garnish—and then I set the table.

  “Where’s Wren?” Nan asked as she drained the noodles. “She hasn’t been around much the past couple of days.”

  With Nan honesty was always the best route—mostly because she seemed to know I was lying before I did. “She met a boy.”

  Nan’s head came up. She seemed momentarily transfixed by something she saw through the window above the sink. Then she turned toward me. “A ghost boy?”

  I nodded.

  “Huh.” She turned on the tap and stuck the colander beneath the flow of water. “How does that work, I wonder?”

  “I don’t know and don’t want to,” I announced.

  “Probably a wise decision. Get us some drinks, will you, dear? Is he a nice ghost boy?”

  This was such a weird conversation. I opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of the fruit-flavored seltzer she liked, and a diet soda for myself. “I’ve only met him once. He seemed okay—if you like the pompous British lord type who looks like he ought to be on the cover of a Brontë novel.”

  “Which one?”

  I shook my head. “One what?”

  “Which Brontë sister? They had fairly different styles, you know.”

  What the hell? I didn’t know which of them wrote what. I didn’t even know how many Brontës there were. “Whichever one wrote Jane Eyre.”

  My grandmother
smiled dreamily as she plopped noodles onto each of two plates. “I’m a Rochester girl myself.” She shook her head as she set the colander in the sink. “Everyone always goes on about Heathcliff, but he was something of a psycho in my opinion.”

  I’d read Wuthering Heights in English and wasn’t really a fan—for the very same reason my grandmother just mentioned.

  “Well, as long as this boy makes Wren happy, I suppose it doesn’t matter what either of us think.”

  That was the problem. I couldn’t remember there ever being a time when my opinion hadn’t mattered to my sister. The only time we’d come close was when I’d tried to kill myself and she found help rather than letting me join her in the Shadow Lands.

  After dinner, I helped clean up, did what little homework I had and then asked Nan if I could borrow the car.

  She took one look at me dressed all in black and shook her head. She knew I was up to something. “You’ll be careful, won’t you?”

  I nodded. “I promise.”

  She didn’t look 100 percent committed. “Will you be taking your sister with you?”

  “She’s meeting me there.” It wasn’t really a lie, so I didn’t feel guilty and Nan didn’t notice. Wren would be meeting me at Haven Crest, she just didn’t know it yet.

  “Drive safely. Don’t get arrested, and be home by midnight. I don’t care how tired you are in the morning, you’re not missing school tomorrow.”

  “Yes, yes, yes and nope.” I grabbed the keys from the counter, slipped my arms through the straps of a small backpack and gave her a kiss before I left.

  I drove the “grape” to the town cemetery that bordered Haven Crest property. The parking area was empty except for me. It was a prime make-out spot for local teenagers, but with school in session it was really only busy on Friday and Saturday nights, which meant I had my pick of a prime parking spot.

  I chose to leave the Beetle beside an old giant of a tree that had spots where its bark had been slowly stripped away by the toes of sneakers as kids climbed it to sneak over the fence. This was the best way onto Haven Crest property if you didn’t want to get caught. Security guards patrolled the grounds, so any strange cars would get attention, as would a girl with white hair simply strolling up the driveway.

  I’d worn a pair of thick-soled boots for the night’s adventure and easily climbed up to the heavy branch that stretched over onto Haven Crest property.

  I hesitated before jumping to the ground on the other side of the stone wall that divided the properties. Once my feet touched that unconsecrated soil, the ghosts of Haven Crest would know someone was there. They might not care that they had a guest at first, but once I got a little closer, the stronger ones would “taste” me and probably form a not-so-welcoming party. Bent had come to check me out almost immediately when I’d come here with Mace—he’d felt his victim’s return.

  Not everyone at Haven Crest had been one of Bent’s followers, but there had to be a few spirits there who wouldn’t be happy to see me.

  Who was I kidding? No one there was going to be happy to see me. Not even Wren.

  I took several iron rings from my pocket and slipped them on my fingers. They’d been made from old nails. They weren’t all that pretty, but they were effective when punching a ghost in the face. I didn’t usually wear them since they could hurt Wren, but to not have protection here would be incredibly stupid. Way more stupid than I already was.

  I could have brought my iron rod. I probably should have, but I figured that would be like walking into a gang clubhouse with a pistol in my hand. Besides, I wanted to make nice with the ghosts if I could. And I didn’t want to cause trouble for Wren, whom I was also counting on to help protect my ass.

  She was nearby, my sister. Hopefully she felt me, too.

  Taking a deep breath, I climbed down to the ground. The moment my boots hit the grass I felt a tingle run up my legs. Halloween, you had to love it. Even the property of Haven Crest was charged with spectral energy. The night of the Dead Babies concert I was going to be jittery as hell if this was any indication.

  Luckily, the tremors in my legs stopped after I took a few steps. It was dark and quiet. Too quiet. I didn’t use a flashlight because security would spot it. I’d covered my white hair with a black hat and kept to the shadows as best I could. I had no desire to be caught trespassing here again. No desire to meet up with Officer Olgilvie again, the dick.

  I kept low as I ran toward the main cluster of buildings. As used to ghosts as I was, this place was still creepy. The old brick buildings had rotting wood trim and busted windows, but you could tell it had been pretty at one time. That wasn’t the creepy part. The creepy bit was all the faces in those broken windows, watching me as I scurried past. That was not something you ever got used to.

  I had a fairly decent sense of direction and an idea of where Woodstock’s haunt was located, but that wasn’t necessarily where I was headed.

  I hid behind a tree when I saw a police car slowly move along the paved road that ran throughout the compound. The site had a security guard, but the cops patrolled, as well. From what I’d heard, Haven Crest used to be a lot more popular with the teen population of New Devon and surrounding towns. It used to be a haven for the homeless and runaways until the town reclaimed the property and started renovations. That’s when the police added it to their nightly patrol, keeping an eye out for trespassers.

  I bet the ghosts hated the police for the extra attention. Suddenly their all-you-can-haunt buffet dried up, and they had to make do with the odd ghost hunter, cop or teenager daring enough to risk getting caught.

  Luckily for them, there would always be people who thought looking for a ghost in an abandoned mental hospital was a fun idea. People like me, who were at least looking for a particular ghost.

  Once I was sure I was safe from security, I ran across the cracked pavement to the other side of the roadway. From there, I sprinted across the lawn, past the building where we’d hunted Josiah Bent and outside of which Mace and I had been picked up by the cops. On the other side, I slipped into the shadow of the building and waited for my breathing to calm down—I really needed to do more cardio.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” came a voice from my right.

  Shit. Slowly, I turned my head toward the darker side of the building. Standing there, dirty arms folded over her narrow chest, was a girl about the same age as me. She was dressed in a plain cotton tie-dyed sundress, and her feet were bare. Long blond hair hung down her back.

  Wait. That wasn’t dirt on her arms, and her dress wasn’t tie-dyed. It was blood. Her forearms were sliced from wrist almost to elbow.

  I swallowed. Looking at those wounds made my own scars itch. “I know, but I’m looking for somebody.”

  Her thin face was void of sympathy. “Last time you came here looking for somebody you upset a lot of us.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that, but no way was I going to let Bent take my sister.”

  Her pointy chin lifted. “There aren’t too many of us who miss Josiah. Even fewer who would thank you for it. You put a hurt into a lot of us that night.”

  “They tried to stop me from burning his bones,” I reminded her. “And I’m not going to apologize for that.”

  She moved closer—little lurches like when the cable TV feed sometimes got garbled. Japanese horror movies did it all the time. It was scarier in person. I closed my fingers into a fist, just in case she got too close.

  “Why are you here now?” she asked. This close I could see that her eyes were bigger than they ought to be—too big for her tiny face. And her eyelashes were thick and kinked like spider legs.

  “What do you care?”

  She jerked her head back. “We want to know if there’s going to be trouble.”

  I glanced up. There, in every damn window on this side of the building, were
ghosts. Men, women, children. All of them peering down on me like a tree full of silent crows, waiting to peck out my eyes.

  “I didn’t come to cause trouble,” I told them. “I just need to talk to somebody, and then I’ll leave. I promise.” I couldn’t, however, promise that I wouldn’t cause trouble, or that it wouldn’t find me.

  The ghosts exchanged glances. I turned my attention back to the dead girl beside me. She looked at me for a moment, then nodded her head. “Fine. Do what you have to do, and then leave, please.”

  “Hanging around is not something I want to do, trust me.”

  “Trust you?” she echoed, with a laugh that sounded like nails on a chalkboard. “You’re living. Why would we ever trust you?”

  I shrugged. “I got rid of Bent, didn’t I?”

  She tilted her head to one side. “You’re going to have to do better than that, but go. Do what you have to do and then leave us in peace.”

  “Look, Girl Interrupted, I could be doing that right now if you hadn’t snuck up on me. So, why don’t you just float back to your bathtub and let me go on my way?”

  For a second I thought she might go full-on Beetlejuice on me, but she didn’t. She simply sneered at me, her lips as red as her blood against her pale face, and then she faded away.

  Did she give me the finger? I laughed and shook my head. Then, I took a second to look around and let that part of me that was connected to Wren reach out for her.

  There she was.

  I jogged toward the building that stood out like a beacon to me—the place that pulsed with unseen energy that I felt deep inside my soul. If there was an upside to Halloween, other than Ben in a tight black shirt, it was being able to find my sister in a sea of teeming spiritual energy. Even on a bad day I’d be able to find her, but not quite like this. Every step felt like I was moving closer to a part of myself. A nail drawn toward a magnet.

  If my memory was correct, this building used to be one of the old housing units. I didn’t know which one, but it looked like it had been really nice once, so I figured it had been home to the patients with money, or from families with money. And they had probably been white, which increased the probability of this having once been home to Robert Alan Thurbridge, Jr.