Arise

  Some time later I pulled back the curtain and prepared to step out of the tub. But even through the fog, I caught the tiniest glimpse of that white tank, cast off and dirty. The thing that had clenched inside me earlier returned in full force, writhing and twisting until I dropped to the floor of the tub, breathless.

  There I sat, for God knows how much longer, sobbing uncontrollably in the hot water.

  Mourning Gabrielle Callioux.

  Mourning my friend.

  Chapter

  THIRTY-TWO

  Long after the water turned cold and the steam evaporated, I wrapped myself in one of the spare robes and stepped out of the bathroom, carrying a pile of dirty clothes in one hand and lifting up my overnight bag with the other. I shifted everything to one arm so that I could open a nearby door, where the stairwell to Joshua’s attic bedroom waited.

  I’d expected to find the room empty. But after I climbed the stairs and entered the attic, I found Joshua lying on the bed, reading a thick paperback book in the dim glow of the bedside lamp. His eyes caught mine, and he set the book aside.

  “Feel better?”

  “Sort of,” I said, my voice thick from all the crying.

  Judging by the glint of worry in his eyes, Joshua didn’t miss the significance of my tone. But instead of pressing the issue, he gave me an intentionally casual smile.

  “You know,” he mused, “it’s still weird to see you wear anything but your dress.”

  I glanced down at the robe and then forced a weak smile. “Actually, the dress sort of … disintegrated. I’m sure there are some pieces left, if you want me to hunt them down for you.”

  Still smiling, Joshua pushed himself up and gestured for me to join him. After dropping my bag and clothes in the corner, I gathered my robe into one hand and sat on the edge of the bed next to his feet.

  Once I’d settled, Joshua’s expression grew serious again. For a second he just studied me, taking in my puffy, red-ringed eyes and my drawn face. Then he turned back to the bedside table and grabbed something I hadn’t noticed before: a plate heaped high with food.

  It was love at first sight: tomatoes and peppers and onions, swimming in a thick sauce around crawfish and rice. The rich, tangy scent of the food wafted toward me, and my hand moved of its own accord, reaching automatically for the plate. Joshua laughed at my enthusiasm and hurried to pass me the plate and a spoon.

  “My dad’s étouffée, left over from last night. I thought you might need it.”

  Lifting a spoonful of the mixture to my mouth, I tried not to moan. “I don’t think I’ve ever needed anything so badly.”

  Joshua laughed again and settled against the pillows, watching as I attempted to eat like a human instead of gobble directly from the plate.

  Once I’d devoured more than half the étouffée, he reached back to his night table for one last item and placed it next to me on the bed. I set aside my plate and took his new offering eagerly, unwrapping the layers of paper towel that surrounded it. When I saw what the towel held, however, I dropped it onto my lap.

  There, in the middle of the paper, lay a single powder-coated beignet.

  I must have stared down at it for too long, because eventually Joshua cleared his throat.

  “Not hungry anymore?” he asked.

  My head jerked upward. I thought I’d finished all my crying in the shower, by myself. But to my humiliation, my eyes welled with tears the minute they met Joshua’s.

  Immediately, he looked stricken. “Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured gently.

  He shifted forward, reaching out to comfort me; but I shied away from his touch. Seeing this reaction, Joshua frowned.

  “You don’t want me to touch you anymore, do you?”

  “No. Yes. But that’s not the point. It’s just—”

  “Are you saying we shouldn’t, because of everything that happened?” he interrupted.

  “No,” I repeated, feeling frustrated by my sudden inability to express myself. “That’s not it at all. It’s just that … I can’t … you can’t …”

  “I can’t touch you anymore?” he finished.

  A tear trailed down my cheek, and I wiped it away with the back of my hand. “Bingo,” I said miserably. “You can’t. No living person can. That’s part of what I’ve become. I can do all kinds of things now: eat, sleep, change clothes. I can even touch stuff. Just not living people. It’s like I’ve regressed or something.”

  Both of Joshua’s eyebrows rose. “But what about the fire?” he asked. “The sparks, when we touch?”

  “No sparks. Not anymore.”

  Joshua sank down onto the bed. He raked one hand through his hair and then dropped it to the bedspread, where he traced absent circles with one finger.

  After a few quiet seconds of tracing, he looked back up at me and asked, “That’s what happened to you at the St. Louis Number One, isn’t it? That’s why you broke up with me?”

  I grimaced. “Yes and no. At the St. Louis, Gaby transformed me without my permission. But I didn’t find that out until after I … until after we …”

  I trailed off, unsure of how to finish that statement. When Joshua realized what I meant, hurt flooded his eyes. “So if you didn’t know you were changing, then why did you break up with me, Amelia?”

  I hung my head, ashamed. “I wanted to keep you safe from what ended up happening anyway.”

  “What does that mean, Amelia?”

  “It means I failed. I wanted to keep you and Jillian and everyone else I care about safe from the demons. I thought if I stayed away from you, then you’d stay off the demons’ radar when they eventually came for me.”

  Joshua stirred uneasily beside me. “Why did you think they were coming for you in the first place? I thought they’d left you alone since Eli disappeared.”

  I sighed heavily and began rubbing my eyelids, mostly to avoid looking up at him. “I didn’t want to tell you at the time because I thought it would just be too risky. But Eli reappeared on the night of the bonfire party. He warned me that the demons had decided to hunt me and that they were willing to hurt my loved ones, if they had to. I wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth until I saw some demons at that club in the Quarter. I’d hoped that Gaby might be able to help me fight them, but after the ritual at the St. Louis, I realized that I was just delaying the inevitable and putting you in more danger in the process. So I … I ended it. And then screwed it all up tonight.”

  I was shocked when Joshua responded with a loud laugh. My eyes shot open, and I met his gaze, which was far softer than I’d expected it to be after a confession like that. Smiling again, he shifted closer to me on the bed.

  “Amelia Elizabeth Ashley, I say this with affection, but you’re totally crazy.”

  I laughed too, although I sounded tenser than Joshua. “Of course I’m crazy. But I’d love to hear your reason why.”

  Joshua smirked. “You broke up with me because you thought our relationship would put me at risk? Amelia, I’m a ghost-seeing descendant of exorcists who happens to be in love with—what?—the undead? My life blew past normal and safe a long time ago.”

  If I wasn’t so incredibly flustered, I might have laughed. But instead, I couldn’t focus on anything but one little four-letter word. Through all the fear and guilt and heartache, a real smile spread across my face.

  “The proper term is Risen, actually—not undead. But are you? I mean, are you still …?”

  Joshua’s own smile lifted higher. “Are you asking if I’m still in love with you? Despite the fact that you broke up with me because you’re being chased by demons and rogue ghosts and evil Seers?”

  “Yeah,” I choked, taken aback by his frankness. “I guess I am.”

  Joshua unexpectedly ducked his head, once more scrutinizing the bedspread. For far too long he didn’t say anything, and my pulse began to race uncomfortably. It outright stuttered when he looked up at me again.

  “Amelia,” he said roughly, “I’m not going to tell you I
love you again. Not without something in return.”

  Suddenly, the entire world was a heart-stopping midnight blue. Before I even had time to think them, I whispered the four words that I’d been dying to say for the last three months:

  “I love you, Joshua.”

  The moment those words left my mouth, I felt a huge whoosh of relief. One that made me wonder why I hadn’t said that a long time ago. Joshua’s answering grin told me that he shared my thoughts.

  “Now, was that so hard?” he asked.

  I grinned back, so widely my cheeks ached. Not that I cared right now. “Yes,” I teased him. “It was brutal. That’s why I waited this long to say it.”

  With a low, sexy laugh, Joshua leaned so close I could smell his cologne; could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. Every single one of my nerve endings began to hum happily.

  “You know,” he whispered, “this would be the perfect moment to kiss you.”

  “If only you could.”

  Joshua’s expression shifted from seductive to fervent. “Oh, don’t worry: I’ll find a way. I swear.”

  I rolled my eyes playfully and leaned back, putting some space between us before I started to hyperventilate from our closeness.

  “Just because I love you,” I cautioned, “doesn’t mean I’m ready to join in another one of your optimistic schemes. Not quite yet.”

  He tilted his head to one side. “How about this: the only scheme I want us to join in is the one where we both try to stay away from the demons. Especially since we’re all on their radar now.”

  I cringed. “Like I said: because I failed to protect you guys.”

  “You didn’t fail at anything,” he said. “Even if I don’t agree with it, you tried to do what you thought was right. It just so happens that the Mayhews and their friends tend to mess with your plans on a semiregular basis.”

  “And make things better for me,” I amended. “Or at least you do. I guess since I’ve officially failed, I can admit that, right?”

  “Right.” He laughed. “But you do realize you’re dodging the real issue? You still haven’t told me whether you’ll agree to let me fight the demons with you.”

  I shrugged and gave him a skeptical, sidelong glance. “We’ll see. Maybe.”

  Joshua looked like he wanted to argue. But after a moment’s consideration, he thought better of it. Without speaking, he reached behind him and grabbed the discarded book from the nightstand. He dropped it beside me, picked up my plate, and eased off the bed.

  Now facing me, he flashed a wry, confident grin, and I melted a little inside.

  “You’ll give in,” he said. “Eventually.”

  “We’ll see,” I repeated.

  Joshua chuckled and then jerked his head toward the bed. “The book is for you.”

  My eyes flickered to the book’s cover. “The Uniform Commercial Code?”

  “The 2004 edition. It was my mom’s, from when she used to practice law. Guess she must have left it here. It’s not exactly fine literature, but it might come in handy on the off chance you have trouble sleeping. Now, I hope you don’t mind if I go downstairs and have a nice, long chat with my cousins.”

  I placed the uneaten beignet on the nightstand and shook my head. “Don’t be too hard on them. Alex fooled everybody, including … Gaby.”

  Joshua clearly noticed my hesitation, but he wisely chose not to address it.

  “We’ll see,” Joshua said, using my own phrase. “Will you be okay up here by yourself?”

  A small, weary smile twitched at one corner of my mouth. “I bet I won’t be conscious for more than ten minutes.”

  And I was right.

  Only a few seconds after Joshua said good-bye and crept down the attic stairs, I collapsed sideways on top of the covers. A few seconds after that, I couldn’t remember anything, except the two times I briefly awoke.

  The first was when I rolled on top of the bulky Uniform Commercial Code, which I irreverently kicked to the floor before falling back asleep. The second time didn’t occur until a muffled chorus of laughter stirred me from sleep.

  At first I thought I’d dreamed the noise. But another round of raucous laughter made my eyes flutter open. Rolling to one side, I stared blearily at the golden-red light pouring in through the attic’s tiny dormer window. The light seemed too intense for dawn, so I slowly pushed myself into a seated position. Over the edge of the bed, I could just see a pillow and a pallet of rumpled blankets on the floor.

  Apparently, Joshua had made good on his promise to sleep separately from me.

  I slid off the bed with an old-lady kind of groan and then hobbled over to the window on stiff legs. There, I lifted onto my toes to peer outside.

  The view surprised me: over the rooftops and through the narrow spaces between buildings, I could see the rich oranges and reds of sunset. Which couldn’t possibly be right.

  At that moment, more muffled laughter and shouting filtered through the stairwell. It sounded as though the entire Mayhew clan had gathered together somewhere far below me in the house.

  My eyes darted between the window and the stairwell until the realization hit me: I’d slept through Christmas Day, and almost into the evening.

  I frowned and sunk back onto my heels. I knew it was foolish, but I couldn’t help feeling disappointed that I’d spent my first Christmas awake from the fog of death—my first Christmas with Joshua—in a comalike sleep. Sighing, I plodded back over to the bed and flopped down near the pillow.

  That’s when I noticed the bedside table.

  Sitting on top of the Uniform Commercial Code (which someone must have retrieved from the floor and placed on the table) was a rectangular object, wrapped in metallic green paper. It didn’t have a label or bow, but I instinctively recognized it as a Christmas present.

  For me?

  I picked it up, running my fingers across its slick wrapping. For a fleeting second I worried whether the gift actually belonged to someone else; maybe I was interfering with a present that Joshua had forgotten to carry downstairs. The worry passed, however, mostly because I couldn’t resist the childish impulse to find out for myself.

  I slipped my finger into an opening in the green wrapping and delicately pulled the paper apart so that it wouldn’t tear. After a few minutes of careful maneuvering, I’d fully removed the paper and placed it beside me on the bedspread.

  I turned the unwrapped gift over in my hands, momentarily stunned.

  It was a leather-bound copy of one of my favorite books: Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility. Incidentally, it was also one of the books lying on the top of a reading pile in my old bedroom, the one and only time Joshua and I entered my childhood home.

  In life I’d read and reread my secondhand copy so many times that the cover had started to pull away from the binding. This book, however, was gorgeous: blue leather embossed with golden flowers and cursive script. It looked old too, but only in the expensive, collector’s edition sort of way.

  I opened the front cover and found a white card with Joshua’s handwriting tucked inside. It simply read:

  This should have been your Christmas present.

  As I ran my thumb over the thick black letters, a slow smile spread across my face. Despite the words on the card, I couldn’t bring myself to regret Joshua’s first attempt at a Christmas present. After all, it had brought me to Gaby and Felix; it was also the reason I could now hold this book in my hands, feel its embossing under my fingertips, and smell the scent of its leather.

  But with this gift, I suddenly felt connected to Joshua again. I could still touch an object that meant something to both of us.

  As I continued to trace the outline of the book’s title, I wondered whether I should get dressed and go downstairs to join the Mayhews for Christmas. Other than see Joshua again, there were a few things I’d love to do: formally forgive Joshua’s cousins; officially meet his father; maybe see if Ruth would thank me for helping her, or at the very least not try to exorcis
e me this time....

  I’d very nearly pushed myself off the bed when I hesitated and then sunk back into the covers. After everything that had happened yesterday with the Mayhew family and me, I didn’t feel comfortable intruding. Particularly on Christmas Day, when it sounded as if the whole family had put aside their worries to enjoy time with one another.

  I didn’t belong with them yet.

  I still suspected that I never would, despite Joshua’s and my proclamations last night. But whether or not that suspicion was unfounded, I certainly wasn’t part of this family tonight.

  With a regretful sigh, I sprawled across the bed and wriggled back until the pillow felt comfortable again. Then I grabbed my Christmas present, lifted it above me, and opened the front cover.

  Slowly, deliberately, I flipped the pages. I let each one glide over my fingers, listening to the slight crinkling noise they made under my touch. As I did so, my smile began to return.

  I could touch pages again. I could read again. For the first time in more than a decade, I could do something I loved because of Joshua.

  Because of Gaby.

  Yesterday had been a nightmare, as had so many days before that. And later I would face Ruth and the young Seers. I would spend ten hours in a car trying to pretend in front of Joshua’s parents that I not only barely knew their son, but also didn’t love him; I would go back to Oklahoma—to my home.

  But tonight?

  Tonight I would just rest.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  To my editor, Barbara Lalicki—someone once said that a good editor must see where a writer wants to go, understand why she isn’t getting there, and explain the problem in a way that allows the writer to discover the path for herself. You have done all of this, and more. I am incredibly proud of this book, and I am even prouder to call you my friend.

  To Katie McGee, Caroline Sun, Lindsey Blechman, Suzanne Daghlian, Kimberly VandeWater, Erin Fitzsimmons, and countless others at HarperTeen—you are my knights in shining armor. From exciting book trailers to gorgeous covers to shopping recommendations, you are tireless and gracious. I could not ask for a better team standing beside me on this journey.