"What's going on, Ennis?"
"Did you break the crucible?" he asked.
Once again, my stomach twisted.
"How did you know about that?" I asked.
"About what?" Sydney asked, confused.
"Tell me," Ennis insisted. "Did you break it?"
My mind raced with a hundred questions and possibilities. None of them made sense.
"I asked you to call me," he said, his voice rising to a shrill whine. "Why didn't you call?"
"I tried," I said. "The call didn't go through."
Ennis's breathing grew quicker.
"What's he talking about, Marsh?" Sydney asked.
"Let's go home, Ennis," I said. "We'll talk with Dad and--"
"Tell me!" Ennis yelled. That wasn't like him. Not one bit. He was definitely on edge.
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"Okay! I broke it," I said quickly. "I threw it against the wall."
Ennis's eyes grew wide as if I had just said the sky was falling.
"Broke," he repeated in a thin whisper as if trying to understand the word. It wasn't what he wanted to hear. He swayed like the news had a physical effect on him. For a second I thought he was going to faint.
I added, "It was full of blood, Ennis. It was all over my wall and then ... it wasn't. What was that thing? How do you know about it?"
"It was your protection," he said, reaching into his pocket. "And this is how I know."
He pulled out. . . another golden ball. Another crucible. It was identical to the one I had smashed.
"This is mine," he said. "Here, take it."
He tried to force it into my hands, but I didn't want it. Things were happening too fast. It was my turn to sweat. I forced myself to focus and think logically. To try and understand. There were connections being drawn that I didn't like.
"What are they, Ennis? Where did they come from and how did that one get in my house?"
"Marsh," he said with tears in his eyes. "The crucible you destroyed . . . the one in your house ... it belonged to your mother."
His words hit me like a punch to the gut.
He said, "When she no longer needed it, it was passed to you. I made a promise to your mother to keep you safe and I will do nothing less. She didn't want you to suffer for her mistakes and neither do I. Please take this one. Without it I cannot guarantee your safety, or the safety of your very soul."
I was beyond fighting. It was like I had entered a dream
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state. I held out my hand and let Ennis place the golden orb in my palm.
"God help you, Marshall Seaver," Ennis said. "And those you love, here and beyond."
With all that had happened the past week, with all I learned that had challenged my understanding of how the world worked, nothing could have prepared me for that. I had come to accept that I was the target of a spirit who was hunting for an ancient weapon. For reasons I didn't understand, he chose me to find it for him. And now, after wondering in frustration for so long why I was at the center of the storm, the truth was more difficult to accept than anything I could have imagined.
It wasn't about me. Or Cooper. Or Gravedigger or any of the people who had been swept up in the mystery. I was being hunted, and haunted . . . because of my mother. My dead mother.
My journey was only beginning, but at least I no longer felt alone. Cooper's spirit was with me. So was Sydney. I had no idea where we were all headed, but I had no doubt about how we would get there.
We were all about to set foot on a supernatural highway known as the Morpheus Road.
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Epilogue
I believe in ghosts.
It's not like I have a choice. After all that's happened over the last week, I pretty much have to come down on the "ghosts are real" side of the debate. To be honest, I never thought about it before. I do now. A lot.
Week? Did I say a week? I think that's how long it's been, but there's no way to know for sure. Time doesn't have much meaning when you're dealing with the supernatural. Though I guess I can't call it supernatural anymore. There's nothing super about it. It's just ... natural. I've seen so much and had experiences that I never thought possible. Some of it's okay. Great, even. I mean, the idea that after you die, it doesn't mean that your story is over is pretty cool.
But it's not like what most people think. It's definitely not
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what I thought, not that I thought much about it. Dwelling on death isn't something I planned on doing for another seventy years. At least.
From what I can tell so far, and I'm still trying to figure it all out, your destiny isn't necessarily set in stone after you stop living. There are still choices to be made and paths to choose. That much was made pretty clear to me by a nasty spirit named Damon, among others.
The guy has caused a lot of people grief. I don't even know why. Not exactly, anyway. He's on a mission and it isn't a good one. Like I said, even after death there are choices to be made, and Damon is choosing to cause trouble.
With the living.
I want to ignore him. I wish I could. It's not like I want to be a hero and stop him from whatever vicious quest he's on. That's not me. But he's making that impossible. The guy is trying to get hold of some kind of weapon. If he finds it, things are going to get vicious. If I had a choice, I'd avoid the guy like the plague and let him do whatever he wants. I don't want to have to care, but that's not how it's working out. The thing is, for some reason his plan involves me. And people I care about. The guy has already caused a lot of deaths and he's barely gotten started. I can't let that go, as much as I'd like to.
I can try to stop him. Or not. That's the choice I'm faced with. Like I said, your destiny isn't complete when you die. Your story continues and I think I know where mine is headed. I can't let him continue down the road he's on because he's already caused too much trouble. People died. Lives were changed. That's a reality I can't ignore. After what I saw and experienced, there's one other bit of reality that can't be ignored.
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I now believe in ghosts. I have to, because I'm one of them. My name is Cooper Foley and after you hear my story, you'll believe too.
To be continued . . .
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D. J. MacHale, The Light
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