Hereafter

  I tried in vain to repress a shudder. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why?”

  “Because you’re special, Amelia.” He began to take slow, deliberate steps toward me.

  “Yeah?” I kept my voice as casual as possible, all the while moving backward, away from him. “How am I special?”

  “Thanks to the grace of my masters,” he said, still moving forward, “I’m allowed to keep one newly dead soul for myself. As an . . . apprentice. When I saw you, when I watched you, I knew you’d be perfect.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you belong with me, Amelia. You’re a kindred spirit.”

  Eli’s words echoed in my brain like repetitions of my earlier fears. So I was evil? Everything within me rallied against the suggestion. I didn’t believe it. I just didn’t.

  “No,” I insisted, shaking my head again. “No, it’s not true. I don’t belong here.”

  “But you do.” With just a few, quick strides, Eli closed the distance between us. He leaned over and placed his hands beside my shoulders, hovering above my skin without actually touching me.

  “You’re fated to help me with my task—I knew it from the first moment I saw you.” He shrugged again, but this time the movement looked decidedly less casual. “You have to help me, Amelia. Otherwise I’ll have no choice but to trap you here and keep you from ever going into the living world again. Unless you’re obeying my orders, like the mindless wraiths back there.” He jerked his head meaningfully toward the forest again.

  Anger and terror bubbled up inside me.

  “No!” I shouted into his face. “I can’t stay and help you condemn people to this place. I won’t.”

  Without waiting for his reaction—which would undoubtedly be unpleasant—I turned to flee. Of course, I had no idea where to flee since I was directionless in this world. I spun around, searching for some point of orientation, flinging my arms this way and that.

  Something brushed my outstretched hand—Eli’s fingertips maybe. Whatever made contact with my skin, it plunged me into a brutal cold, shooting what felt like ice water through my veins. The cold came on so fiercely, so violently, my vision began to blur.

  I heard Eli call out, “Amelia! Wait!”

  Then the dark water of my nightmares enveloped me entirely.

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  Chapter

  Twelve

  I bolted upright, gasping.

  I couldn’t process any rational thought. I could only swallow panicked gulps of air. Soon, though, my instincts reminded me to protect myself from any nearby threat.

  Such as Eli, or his “masters.”

  A quick scan of the area showed no sign of Eli. Still, my heart sank. I now sat in a field of headstones, each throwing a shadow in the bright sunlight. There was no mistaking my location. I was in the graveyard in which I always woke after a nightmare.

  I sighed and closed my eyes. This nightmare—my first since meeting Joshua—had been different from the others. This time when I struggled against the river, I’d heard things. Voices, much like the desperate whispers in the dark netherworld. Except that in my nightmare the voices sounded more raucous. Almost frenzied.

  I shook my head. Voices or not, this dream had the same effect on me it usually did. I’d lost valuable time while thrashing about in that stupid river. Opening my eyes, I assessed the sunny day—so welcome after all that darkness and ice—and prayed it wasn’t too late to keep my promise to meet Joshua. I pushed myself up into a standing position and stretched each hamstring, although I hardly needed to.

  “Speed, Amelia,” I told myself aloud. “Think speed.”

  And I began to run, as fast as I possibly could, in the direction of Joshua’s school.

  I breathed an enormous sigh of relief when I finally came upon the Wilburton High School parking lot, which was still crowded with cars. I wove between the back rows of them to get a better view of the school itself. Outside the low buildings students milled around, waiting for the end of the lunch period, I hoped.

  I turned my attention to the cars, searching. A number of black sedans filled the parking lot, but soon I managed to spot the most familiar one. I walked over to it, moving as quickly as I could while simultaneously giving my dress a brief look-over. Once I was relatively certain I didn’t look like a crazy person who’d just woken up in a graveyard, I stood next to the driver’s side window of Joshua’s car and clasped my arms behind me.

  Joshua sat in the car with his head resting on his arms, which he’d laid upon the wheel. After only a few seconds, he looked up. The noon sun lit up his face and, for a moment, I blinked in surprise.

  He looked terrible, at least as terrible as someone like Joshua could look. His hair was a mess, dark circles ringed his eyes, and he could have used a good shave. But when those midnight blue eyes caught mine and he smiled, I couldn’t help but sigh happily.

  Wait, he mouthed, and then leaned over to the passenger side. I heard a metallic pop as the passenger side door opened, so I circled behind the car and slipped into it. Joshua pulled the door shut beside me.

  Still leaning across me, his mouth dangerously close to my ear, he murmured, “Hey, Amelia.”

  “Hey, Joshua,” I murmured back, keeping my hands firmly planted in my lap instead of wrapped around his neck, where they wanted to be.

  Joshua leaned back into his seat and unsuccessfully tried to stifle a yawn. The attempt made me smile and helped me refocus on what we needed to discuss. Taking in his rumpled appearance, I decided to start with the obvious.

  “Um, Joshua? You know your shirt’s inside out, right?”

  He looked down at his gray T-shirt. “Huh. How about that.”

  In one swift move Joshua pulled the shirt over his head and flipped it to the correct side. I now had a full view of his chest and abs, and, suddenly, I couldn’t remember how to breathe. Which wouldn’t have been a problem, obviously, except for the fact that I also started to choke. Joshua watched my entire struggle from the corner of his eye, grinning as he pulled the shirt back over his head.

  I tried desperately to compose myself. Finally, I managed to calm down enough and ask, “So, something makes me think we should talk about your night first?”

  Joshua laughed and rubbed one hand over his stubbled jaw. “Okay, me first then.” He stretched out his legs and then gave me a strange, appraising look. “My night was . . . interesting.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, the Mayhews had a long debate about Ruth’s mental health, which is ironic if you consider I’m the only one who knew for sure she wasn’t crazy.”

  I grimaced. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he said, smiling grimly. “It didn’t even compare to the ungodly long lecture I got from Ruth after she convinced everyone else of her sanity.”

  “She lectured you about being late for dinner?” I asked hopefully, foolishly, although I already knew the answer.

  Joshua’s smile turned gentle, but his expression made it clear what he was about to say. “No, Amelia. She lectured me about you.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath. Calm, I told myself. Stay calm.

  In my most nonchalant voice, I asked, “Oh? And what did she have to say?”

  Joshua laughed bitterly. “What do families usually say? ‘Stay away from that one, she’s trouble.’ Of course, in this case, the ‘trouble’ is something a little weirder than a girl who smokes or has too many body piercings.”

  I grimaced again. “To put it mildly, right?” I moved for the door handle, even though I couldn’t use it. “If you would just open this for me, I can get out of here and stop screwing up your life. . . .”

  “Amelia.”

  Joshua’s tone made me turn back to him. He gave me another gentle smile. “Why don’t you listen to my whole story before you go running off?”

  Warily, I settled back aga
inst my seat. “Okay. I can do that. For now.”

  He angled his body toward me and, betraying his exhaustion, closed his eyes as he spoke. “For the sake of timing, I’m just going to give you the main points. Point number one you already heard: Ruth thinks High Bridge and the river under it are evil.”

  “No argument here,” I muttered. Joshua popped an eye open, so I added, “I’ll tell you about that later.”

  He nodded, shutting his eyes again. “According to Ruth, after my dad was born she basically insisted the family move to this area for the sole purpose of guarding the river . . . keeping people safe from whatever controls it. Supposedly, lots of people have done the same thing, including her friends and their families. Because the area’s so ‘supernaturally charged’—Ruth’s words, I swear.”

  Joshua snorted and shook his head. After another long pause he went on. “That’s point number two, and the real reason Ruth’s friends have always acted so spooky: they really are a group of—I don’t know—ghost hunters. Their whole mission is to keep on the lookout for ‘unclaimed’ spirits and banish them. Exorcize them. They’ve been hunting a specific unclaimed ghost for years. Some guy, Ruth said. But when you showed up at the house . . . well, you can just imagine Ruth’s frenzy, right?”

  I leaned back in my seat, shocked.

  Were “claimed” spirits actually the recruited souls Eli had confined to the supernatural world? Would that then make Eli an “unclaimed” spirit, one that could walk between worlds?

  Eli had to be the ghost they’ve been hunting. So . . . did that mean they would start hunting me too?

  Was I also an unclaimed spirit?

  Shaking my head with a weak laugh, I asked, “Doesn’t it feel good to know your grandma isn’t actually crazy?”

  The corner of Joshua’s mouth lifted, but not very high. “Not really, Amelia. Not when we get to point number three. Apparently, the Witches of Wilburton want me to join their little coven.”

  “What?” I gasped.

  “Ruth says it’s my heritage. My destiny, whatever that means. I come from a long line of ‘Seers,’ and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “Seers?”

  “Yeah. People who can see the supernatural. Unclaimed ghosts, mainly. Ruth says I’ve probably always been able to sense them without really knowing what I was sensing. That’s why she told me those ghost stories when I was a kid—as some sort of training. The only way to see ghosts outright, though, is to go through some sort of ‘triggering event.’ Something that forces you into an awareness of the spirit world.”

  “Like meeting a dead girl right after your heart stops?”

  “Exactly like meeting a dead girl right after your heart stops.” He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Ruth says the only reason I’m even drawn to you is . . . I don’t know . . . my genetic predisposition to exorcise you. Her version of a Seer is someone who does something with their ‘gift,’ not just enjoy its benefits like I’ve been doing. In other words, Seers use the gift of sight against ghosts. Apparently, this is what I’m supposed to do when it comes to you.”

  A heavy silence fell over the car. Inexplicably, my eyes glued themselves onto the dashboard. After a few seconds of searching for invisible patterns in the leather dash, I stirred. When I finally looked back at Joshua, his eyes were still closed, his body still motionless.

  “So,” I whispered, “does this mean you don’t want my help in Calculus anymore?”

  Joshua’s eyes shot open and locked onto mine. I felt a little dizzy staring into all that dark blue, even when he didn’t laugh at my lame joke.

  “That’s point number four,” he said. “You see, my grandmother makes a pretty hard sell about me not hanging out with you.”

  Although he kept his voice soft, I flinched. I didn’t want to hear what was coming; I really didn’t.

  Joshua surprised me, however, by smiling as he went on. “But I’ve got to tell you, Amelia, I really don’t want to add a coven to my list of extracurriculars.”

  I parsed through his words slowly and felt myself start to smile. “And here I thought you were such a joiner.”

  Joshua merely laughed, but I wanted to push the issue further. “Just so we’re clear: you’re not going to become a Seer and hunt me down for exorcism?”

  “I don’t think I can stop being a Seer,” he said. “It’s just part of who I am now, I guess. But as for all the stuff about the banishment of ghosts . . . thanks but no thanks.”

  The little ache in my chest unfurled for the first time in hours. Before I got too far ahead of myself, however, I had to be sure of one more thing.

  “Just so we’re, you know, even clearer,” I pressed. “You’re not going to embrace your heritage because . . . ?”

  Joshua grinned, wry and sweet like the first time he smiled at me on High Bridge. “Because I can’t hunt you and be with you at the same time, can I?”

  “‘Be’ with me?” I whispered.

  Joshua didn’t answer. Instead, he held out his hand.

  I stared at his outstretched arm for a moment, unsure of what to do. What a scary, thrilling idea—holding his hand, touching him for more than a few brief seconds. Shaking a bit, I tentatively stretched out my hand and let it fold into his.

  Once again pulsing fire shot through my veins. Joshua and I responded as we had the first time we touched: gasping, smiling, reactively trying to recoil from the shock of it. But we both fought the impulse to jerk away and instead held on to each other’s hand tightly.

  Initially his hand cupped mine, holding it in a formal, almost businesslike way. Then, very slowly, he rotated our hands upward until they were perpendicular, palm to palm. With the slightest turn of his wrist, Joshua wove his fingers between mine and clasped my hand. I let my fingers glide down to clasp back.

  Once our hands intertwined, the current over my skin began to change itself subtly. Now, instead of flaming out from my hand and into the rest of my body, the slow burn engulfed me everywhere but the hand I’d interlocked with his. That hand was covered with strange little stabs all over the side of my palm that touched Joshua’s—like the pins-and-needles feel of a limb after it’s been held in one position for too long. Like my hand was waking up.

  The analogy fit even better when the stabbing sensation faded and was replaced by something else entirely.

  Suddenly, I felt him. Not the numb pressure, not even the thrilling current, but him. I felt the warmth of his hand and the texture of his skin pressed to mine. I felt him, just as I had in the river, when he was temporarily made of the same otherwordly matter as me.

  Joshua must have sensed this change too, because his eyes flitted from our hands to my face.

  “Do you feel that?”

  He sounded awed, and uncertain. I nodded, my eyes locked onto his. When I spoke, it was haltingly.

  “Joshua, I . . . I told you I hadn’t felt anything since I died. Not like this. The first time I felt something was when you were in the river. And since we met, I’ve started to feel little things, little sensations. But those sensations disappeared, fast. This isn’t . . . this doesn’t seem to be going away.”

  I lifted our woven hands to emphasize my point. Doing so, I could feel the weight of his arm and the rough skin of his palm as it shifted against mine.

  Keeping his hand firmly wrapped in mine, Joshua leaned closer to me.

  “Then maybe I’m making the right decision after all,” he murmured.

  Impulsively, acting as one might during an involuntary reaction, I arched my body toward him, curving myself until our faces were only inches apart. Our closeness sent a different set of tingles through me, tingles I was certain weren’t entirely inspired by the supernatural. More like the most natural thing in the world: simple, human attraction.

  Despite our proximity, or perhaps because of it, Joshua’s expression became serious, his voice fervent.

  “I could get used to this,” he whispered, nodding toward our clasped hands.

&nbsp
; “What, the high voltage or touching me in general?”

  “Both.” With his free hand, he gestured back and forth in what little space was left between us. “Whatever is happening, it means something. Something more than just us being dead at the same time, in the same place. Something more than you being a ghost and me being a Seer. Don’t you think so?”

  My brain buzzed so loudly, I almost couldn’t answer. “I think . . . maybe.”

  He grinned, moving in so close that our lips would touch with just the slightest twitch from either of us.

  “Maybe what?” he prompted.

  “Maybe yes?” I gasped, imagining the feel of his lips on mine. How hot would they burn me? How quickly would I feel his real lips beneath the fire? I tried to steady my breath and prepare myself for the moment I wanted so much.

  Of course, I wasn’t exactly prepared for that moment to be interrupted by a sharp, rapping knock on Joshua’s car window.

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  Chapter

  Thirteen

  At the sound of the knock on the window, we froze, our lips only a breath apart.

  “Who is it?” Joshua asked me through clenched teeth. Without moving my head, I strained to peek around him.

  “A girl,” I whispered.

  Joshua pulled his hand from mine, giving my fingers a gentle squeeze before turning to face our intruder. He rolled down the driver’s side window and then laughed.

  “What can I do for you, sister of mine?” he asked the intruder.

  “You could stop embarrassing me, for one,” the girl snarled.

  Jillian, of course. I leaned to the right to get a better look at her, but I could only see narrow hips with tiny hands clenched angrily to them.

  “Oh my God, Jillian,” Joshua gasped in mock horror. “I’m so sorry. You know your popularity is the most important thing in my life.”

  “Cut the crap, Josh,” Jillian snapped. “It’s bad enough that you showed up at school looking like a hobo, but now you have to spend lunch talking to yourself in your car?”