Sisters of Salt and Iron

  I gave in to my interest and opened the lid. I looked inside...

  I shut the box and left the room.

  That would teach me to be nosy. Oh, my freaking balls! Eyeballs, to be exact. Like, a dozen of them, and none of them a pair that I could tell.

  Since my sister had never maimed or killed a living being, I could only assume the eyes came from ghosts, who were technically already dead. Still, it freaked me out. Of the two of us, Wren was definitely the crazy side of the Melinoe equation. Which left me to be the scary one, a job I wasn’t going to excel at if I got squeamish at the sight of eyeballs.

  But I’d had that vision when we’d gone up against Bent, of Wren clutching a bouquet of eyeballs like they were wildflowers. Now I couldn’t help but wonder if it had been a warning of some kind, especially since in the vision the eyes she’d held had belonged to our friends.

  No. Wren would never hurt them. I had to believe that.

  I left the little house as fast as my feet would take me and ended up on a quiet street that reminded me of a soundstage, or a movie backdrop. It looked perfect—too perfect. And when I rounded the corner I found myself on the same street I’d visited when I’d jumped between worlds outside of the Goodwill. God, that seemed so long ago now. That same woman was in the window. This time I waved at her.

  She yanked the curtains shut.

  So much for manners. Okay, then. I’d better get to the library. I didn’t know where that was, but my feet seemed to have a direction in mind, so I followed them until they took me to a large columned building that practically screamed Library!

  I climbed the long flight of shallow steps to the huge door and pushed. It swung open without even a hint of a creak, inviting me into a building that spread out so far from the center desk and so high, that it couldn’t possibly fit into the dimensions of what I’d seen as I’d climbed the steps. This was trippy. Dr. Who trippy.

  I walked up to the front desk. A woman with a 1950s hairdo and pencil skirt looked up at me through cat-eye glasses. She had the naughty librarian thing down to a science. Her very red lips fell open at the sight of me.

  “Oh, my goodness,” she said—in a tone so breathless I almost rolled my eyes. Was everything and everyone here a bizarre parody of the living world? “You’re not supposed to be here.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that. My sister couldn’t make her one o’clock appointment with Special Collections, so I came instead. My name’s Lark Noble.”

  “I know who you are.”

  When she just kept staring at me, I leaned against the wooden countertop. “Are you going to tell me where Special Collections is, or do you want to talk fashion instead? Or, would you prefer that I just toddle off and find it on my own?”

  “No!” She straightened her skirt. “I’ll escort you.”

  “Awesome.” I gave her my most sincerely fake smile. “Thanks.”

  As she came out from the behind the counter—and she definitely had the wiggle to go with that wiggle skirt—I said, “You must not get many breathers in here.”

  Her lips pursed. “That’s such a vulgar term.”

  “But it’s what you call us.”

  “I prefer ‘non-dead’ or ‘death-challenged.’”

  I laughed out loud. This time her whole face pinched up. She hadn’t been joking.

  “Sorry,” I said, and I was sincere this time.

  “The most common term we use is simply ‘the living.’ It seems to work fairly well.”

  I couldn’t argue with that.

  She led me up a flight of stairs that curved and wound upward in a wide, wooden spiral. The runner was a rich blood-red and didn’t have a speck of dirt on it, or a fray. In fact, everything in this place was absolutely perfect. I bet they didn’t even have dust.

  No wonder most ghosts chose to either move on or remain in the human realm. This place would be utterly boring. A nice place to visit, but you wouldn’t want to spend your death here.

  Finally, we reached the top, and I didn’t have to be distracted by the sway of her butt in front of me. There, on the opposite side of the hall, was a large double door with Special Collections above it on a large plaque.

  “Here you are,” the librarian said, unlocking the door and pulling it open.

  “Thanks,” I said, stepping up to the threshold. “Any rules I should know about?”

  She looked at me as though I were stupid. “No talking. And don’t blame me if the books don’t cooperate.”

  Riiiight. I opened my mouth to make one of my usual witty retorts, but she was gone, and the door smacked me in the ass as it swung shut, knocking me into the room, which was as big as the entire library in New Devon. How was I supposed to find the book I needed?

  I walked up to one of the long tables that had chairs in front of them. It was the only table that had books on its surface. The Melinoe, one of them had in gold leaf on its front.

  Creepy.

  I pulled out a chair and sat down. The book was huge. I opened it to the first page—it was blank.

  “What the hell?”

  Somewhere in the vast recesses of the room, someone shushed me. I looked up. Really?

  I turned back to the book. Black lettering began to appear on the page changing from some language I didn’t recognize to English. Amazing.

  HELLO, LARK NOBLE. PERMISSION GRANTED.

  What? Did this book actually decide who was allowed to read it?

  This was the most awesome library ever.

  I started reading. The book began with the story of how the Melinoe came to be. Apparently, Persephone became pregnant by Hades after she ate the pomegranate seeds that sentenced her to spend half the year in the underworld. Coincidentally—not really—the half of the year she spent in the underworld began pretty much at All Hallows’ Eve and ended a few days into May.

  According to the text, the child was born of both worlds and spent equal time in both with her mother. She became a goddess of the dead and the dying, a protector of the living and champion of ghosts who punished restless spirits and helped the lost. She was terrifying and compassionate, rational and mad.

  Hades, who hated losing both his wife and daughter for half the year to his mother-in-law Demeter, split Melinoe into two aspects—one living and one dead, so that he could have her with him the whole year. Demeter, who had warred with Hades for years over his abduction of her daughter, was placated by having the living version of her granddaughter with her year-round, and thus Melinoe continued on—two halves of one whole—until she grew weary of the separation. On the night that marked her mother’s return to the underworld, Melinoe found a mortal woman who desperately wanted a child of her own. Melinoe told the woman she could give her twins, but that in return, she would have to lose one to the underworld, and that these children would be special and favored by Hades and Demeter, and that this favor would bring great responsibility with it. The woman agreed, and the first of the twins, called Melinoe for their creator, was born nine months later. One of them was stillborn.

  As far as stories went, it wasn’t bad. I’d read worse. The myth, or legend, only took up maybe ten to fifteen pages in the book. The rest was a history of the Melinoe twins, with biographies of each set. I skimmed through most of them on my way to the chapter about Emily and Alys. I didn’t have time to read them. In fact, I didn’t know how much time I had at all. An hour in the Shadow Lands could be an entire night in my world, or ten minutes. It was never consistent, so I had to be as quick as possible. It would really suck to leave here and discover that Halloween was over, and all my friends were dead because I’d been reading the history of my family tree.

  Okay, so Emily and Alys Murray. I read quickly but carefully. Their grandmother had been one of the twins and taught them what they were supposed to know. That part made me sad, because it ma
de me think of Nan and the twin she’d lost.

  I flipped through a chronicle of all the ghosts and living people they’d dealt with until I found mention of the last name McCrae. I read how Noah’s sister had died and become a tormented spirit. There was mention of his sister being mentally unstable, with the insinuation that this had been brought on by an “unnatural” relationship with her brother. As a medium, Noah had been able to keep in contact with his sister after her death, and it was wondered if he’d somehow helped to corrupt her in the afterlife. She became a violent ghost, and Emily had to destroy her. This sent Noah over the edge, and led to his being committed to Haven Crest. He then dedicated all of his time to finding out everything he could about ghosts, the afterlife and the Melinoe, which, thankfully, wasn’t much. Shortly after that he committed suicide and began haunting Haven Crest. He did so peacefully, so as not to attract Emily’s attention. It was only when he felt strong enough that he acted against her. And that wasn’t until Emily herself had died.

  This was the part that confused me. How had he managed to trap Emily? She’d been powerful in life, and I had to assume that when we Melinoe died we were still pretty strong. What had he done to capture her and lock her away as he had? Did it have something to do with Alys?

  The book said that when Emily died, she and Alys were finally reunited in death, and they should have moved on, but they didn’t because they didn’t trust Noah. And they were right not to. My great-grandmother came to Haven Crest one day; it didn’t say why, but it was during her pregnancy with Nan. Noah attacked her, and then he told Emily and Alys that the only way to save her was to kill one of her babies. Alys believed him, and she killed the red twin while it was still inside my great-grandmother. Only, it had been a deception, and she’d killed the white twin instead.

  How? How had he managed to do that? Not even the book seemed to know. Although, there was talk that Alys was in league with Noah. She attacked Emily when her sister confronted her about the suspicions. Alys was sent to the void for killing her own blood, and for trying to destroy her own sister.

  Emily didn’t move on. She wouldn’t while her sister was imprisoned. Because she lingered, Alys could occasionally appear to her family, but only briefly, or in dreams.

  So it had been Alys I’d dreamed about.

  And then last month, Emily disappeared.

  I stared at the page. Disappeared? Emily hadn’t disappeared. She’d been abducted. How could the book not know that Noah had taken her?

  That’s where the story of Emily and Alys ended. There was a brief paragraph about Nan and her dead twin, and then there was a chapter about me and Wren. It wasn’t very long, and that was okay, because it was weird reading about myself, my suicide attempt and Bell Hill and seeing it presented in such a dry, emotionless way.

  It ended with our fight against Bent. I supposed once Halloween was over, this latest “adventure” would appear on the pages, as well.

  I was just about to close the book, when new writing appeared. I watched it spread out across the page:

  LOOK OUT. BEHIND YOU.

  I turned around just in time to have a fist slammed into my face. It knocked me into the table, but I shook it off and leaped to my feet. The chair went flying.

  It was Woodstock.

  Son of a bitch.

  Of course he hadn’t been dusted. God only knew whose bones I’d burned that night. Noah had tricked me, and I let him. I should have checked the patient number on the grave against Woodstock’s file.

  “What happened to your eye?” I asked with a smile when I saw the patch he wore. I was pretty sure it had been on the top of Wren’s little collection.

  His cocky grin faded.

  “What payment did Noah give you for that eye, huh? Or did he tell you that losing an eye was better than being barbecued?”

  “You talk a lot,” he said.

  I nodded. “Yes, I do. You’re here for a reason, Age of Aquarius. What is it?”

  “I came for you. Noah said I could have you.”

  What was that all about? Noah wasn’t going to just hand me over to this nut. I was too valuable. But Woodstock wasn’t. Was Noah using me to tie up loose ends? “Bet he also told you that Wren wouldn’t hurt you.”

  There was no trace of smugness now. “Time for you to shut up.” He came at me. I shoved a chair in front of him, but he tossed it aside. I hopped onto the table and rolled off the other side, putting the furniture between us. He vaulted over it with ease. Not bad for a guy who smelled like patchouli and pot.

  He hit me again. I was ready for it this time and got him with two good punches and a kick before he punched me hard in the face. I fell over onto the tabletop. Another punch and another. He jumped on top of me and pinned my arms with his knees.

  Either he was happy to see me or he had more than fighting in mind. That was not going to happen. I’d had my fill of sexually abusive ghosts for the day—for the rest of my life.

  I let the anger fill me until my skin crackled with it. My hair lifted into the air, floating like seaweed on water. Ah...manifestation. I smiled.

  I pulled my arms free from his grip like he was as weak as a child. I reached up and grabbed his hair, pulling his head down as I shoved mine up. Our skulls met like two coconuts. I threw him off me as stars danced in front of my eyes.

  I started kicking him as he sat on the floor cradling his head. He swept out his leg, taking mine out from underneath me. I fell to the floor with a crash. There was that shushing sound again.

  Woodstock’s fingers fumbled with the button on my jeans. I got my left leg up so I could brace the sole of my boot against his throat. I pushed hard before easing up a bit. He relaxed a little, and I took the opportunity to then draw my foot back a bit and slam it into his throat, knocking him off me. He crashed into another table, knocking over two chairs in the process.

  Now I was really pissed off. I grabbed his matted hair in my fist and slammed his face into the floor again and again and again...

  This time the “shush” was followed by the door to the room opening. The librarian wiggled in like she and her hips owned the place.

  “What is going on here?” she demanded. “This sort of noise and commotion is not allowed on these grounds. I’m afraid you’re both going to have to leave.”

  “Sorry about this,” I said, rising to my feet. I kicked Woodstock hard in the ribs as I stood. “I thought he was dead.”

  She blinked. “He is.”

  I almost rolled my eyes, but I’d walked right into that one. “I thought he was someplace where I didn’t have to worry about him.”

  “Obviously not.”

  “Are you always so rude?”

  “This isn’t rude.” Her eyes widened to a point that they were too big for her face, giving her a creepy-doll look. “You don’t want to see me get rude.”

  She had that right. “Okay, I’m going.” I slowly walked around her. Woodstock had gotten up and was coming after me again. I doubted he’d let the librarian stand in his way.

  I picked up one of the heavy wooden chairs and threw it at him. He only had one eye, and it wasn’t on the side closest to me, so he didn’t see it coming. It crashed into him, knocking him off his feet and sending him sprawling across another table.

  The librarian let loose something that sounded like a cross between a squeal and the roar of a T. rex in Jurassic Park. I didn’t stick around for the rest of her reaction or Woodstock’s recovery. By the time she turned that anger toward me, I was already running out the door.

  WREN

  It was pointless trying to fight him. This place and these ghosts did something to me. Pulled me in. Loved me. They whispered to me all the things I could do if I weren’t bound by living morality, if I weren’t afraid to be my true self.

  And Noah talked to me of eyes, and
how they reflected a person’s soul. When we were alone, and it was just me and him, merged into one, he told me I could take as many eyes as I wanted—from both the living and the dead—on All Hallows’ Eve. I could do whatever I pleased, and there’d be no one to stop me. No one strong enough, especially once my sister was dealt with.

  I tried to hold on to Lark. I reached for her in the dark, but then the dark started swimming, seething with terrible creatures that wanted to tear me apart, and I shrank back in fear. Why had my sister left me to this place? Why hadn’t she come for me? Why didn’t she save me?

  “She’s more concerned about her breather friends,” Noah whispered. “She’s one of them. They’re more important to her than you.”

  I wanted to tell him he was wrong, but I couldn’t, because I wondered if maybe he was right. All she ever did was talk about protecting the living, and her friends, and her breather boyfriend whom she’d never even noticed when he was a fat, funny-looking kid. Shallow and disloyal, that was my sister.

  I tried to run away from the things that nipped and bit, but there was nothing but darkness around me, and I didn’t know where to go. I was scared, and I was angry. So angry.

  Lark had done this.

  Strong fingers wrapped around my wrist, and for a second I thought it was Noah, but it wasn’t. It was a girl. Then I hoped it might be my sister, but of course it wasn’t her. She wasn’t coming.

  Hair the color of blood broke through the darkness, followed by a face as pale as the grave, and eyes that glittered like ice. Lips, stained berry-red. I knew that face.

  “You don’t belong here,” she told me, though her lips didn’t move. “You need to leave. You have work to do.” Her voice was soft but strong, and I believed what she said to me.

  “I don’t know the way out,” I told her.

  “Yes, you do,” she said, and gave me a push.