Ashes to Ashes (16 page)

“Doesn't matter how much I have left. You can't just take it.”

“I know, I know. It won't happen again. Friends, okay?”

“I don't think so.”

I turn to leave. I don't want to be anywhere near him.

“Hey, come on!” he shouts.

The door to the prism eases open, and Reena is standing behind the gate. Her eyes are glowing, but not in that oh-I-just-went-for-a-run way. More like in that oh-I-just-bit-the-head-off-a-live-mouse way.

Dark shadows are dancing strangely on the wooden walls behind her.

“Oh, I thought I heard voices out here. Come on in,” she says, beckoning me and Leo into the darkness of her prism.

Fifteen

I HESITATE,
a little shiver of warning prickling through me.

Reena tilts her head, and a warm smile lights up her face. She's so beautiful—and it's not because of her smooth, dark skin or her high cheekbones or even her lush black hair. The other ghosts I've seen look calm, pleasant, polite. But not this girl—she's got fire.

“Callie, it's all right. Thatcher won't find out,” she says.

I know I should leave, just walk away, but it's almost like she's daring me to prove I'm not a chicken. She won't hurt me. I know that. Leo's the problem.

As though reading my mind, she says, “Your energy is safe in here.”

With her reassurance echoing around me, I cross the threshold. Once inside, I find the space is less intimidating than it seemed from the doorway. The walls around us are a deep brown wood, which made it seem dark, and I realize that her prism is like a log cabin, with plaid curtains drawn over the windows and a big black stove in the corner where a fire throws shadows onto the wall. The crispness of late fall blossoms in here, and I wonder if we choose seasons to go along with our prisms. Mine is summer.

Reena opens the curtains and light filters in. A soft-looking red-and-white quilt hangs over a rocking chair in the corner.

“My grandparents' cabin,” she says, walking over to sit down on an overstuffed sofa. “We used to spend every holiday here when I was alive.”

She says that—“when I was alive
”
—without a trace of sadness, and I wonder if I'll ever feel that indifferent about my own death.

She pats the seat beside her. “Make yourself at home.”

I ease onto the flowered cushion.

“It's nice,” I say, because it is. It's warm and cozy, and I can see why Reena made it her prism.

“I like it.” Then she smiles at me. “You look rested.”

“Yeah. Thanks for, um, dropping me off.”

“No problem. Sometimes being on Earth can be exhausting. It
was
fun, though.” She studies my face. “Don't you think?”

“It was . . . interesting. But I'm not sure—”

“Thatcher got upset, right?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you tell him?” Leo asks anxiously, dropping down beside me, very close, a little too close. I have an urge to edge away, to remind him to watch my personal space. He's crowding me, making me feel uncomfortable, and I can't help but wonder if, even though I can't feel it, he's tapping into my energy again.

“Not a lot. Just that we moved some things around.”

He and Reena exchange a glance full of meaning—I'm not sure how to read it.

“That's good,” Reena says. “He can make a big deal out of nothing.”

And I can't help but wonder—

“Like what you did with the weather? It was pretty impressive.”

“I've never done that before.” Reena's face lights up. “It felt amazing.”

“The sky was a painting. Like performance art or whatever.”

“I know, right? It's all about having fun with haunting. No matter what
other ghosts
might preach.”

I smile, even though I feel like I'm betraying Thatcher. I have one question I want answered, and then I'll leave. “On your neck. There's—”

“The black spot of death,” Reena murmurs in a low voice that's almost seething. For a second I wonder if I've upset her, but then she breaks into a relaxed laugh and pulls her hair back, turning her head so I can see it.

It's dark and ashy, almost like she was burned with a cigar in that spot.

“It used to be the green moon,” she says. “I'm sure Thatcher has told you about the mark that guides ghosts to Solus.”

“Sort of. I mean, yeah, I've seen it, and he told me how it changes as you get closer to merging, right?”

“Right,” she says. “Unless it goes black like mine.”

“I thought you couldn't see them in the Prism. Only on Earth.”

“Again, unless it's black like mine—then it shows all the time.”

“But what does it mean?”

“You tell her, Leo. You earned yours first.”

I twist around to look at him. His black circle is bigger than Reena's, but just as dark and ashy.

“This spot,” says Leo, smiling sinisterly, and suddenly I wonder if I should be asking about the spot, if it's too intrusive of me. “This spot is a symbol of power, rebellion, a badge of honor. It means that I never have to merge with Solus. That
we
never have to merge.”

Reena laughs. “Leo, don't be so dramatic!” She scoots closer to me so that I'm hemmed in. I want to make a run for it, which is ridiculous. I like Reena. “It means that we know about our lives. It indicates that we've been back.”

“Back to what?” I ask.

“Back to our death spot.”

“I thought you couldn't go back,” I say. “Thatcher said it wasn't possible because . . . because you can't—” I don't remember him saying why we couldn't go, just that we couldn't.

“You have to understand that Thatcher has a lot of hang-ups. There's no reason for you not to go if you want to,” says Reena.

I consider the implications and possibilities for a moment. I'm curious about where I died, about why Thatcher doesn't want me to go there.

“What will I see there?” I ask.

“Nothing scary,” Reena assures me. “The Guides won't take new ghosts there because it can jar your memory, reconnect you with your life, and stir up grief.”

“They want the new ghosts to be mindless robots so they can finish their haunting and merge with Solus,” says Leo.

Soulless.
He says it in that way again.

“Right,” says Reena. “But you're smart, Callie. And you already have your memories. So where's the harm in seeing where you died?”

She's smiling with encouragement, and her eyes are shining.

“You don't want to say good-bye to Earth and leave everyone you love forever, do you?” she asks pointedly.

“No,” I say. “I don't want to do that.”

“Right—you're choosing to be with Nick, and Carson, and your father, forever.”

Reaching up, I tentatively touch my neck, wondering if the green moon tattoo is there now, if I'm willing for it to go dark.

“Forever?” I ask.

“Hell, yes!” says Leo. “And that's a good thing. Solus is where you truly die. Not here. We can still have fun, see our families, mess around on Earth, and almost live our lives.”

Reena nods. “It's empowering. It's freeing to visit your death spot.”

I hesitate.

“It might bring you some peace to be there,” Reena continues.

“We can go right now,” says Leo, standing up.

I stay seated. “I'm not sure.”

Reena smiles with understanding. “Callie, would you rather go visit someone else's death spot instead?”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“We spend a lot of time at the place where Norris died,” she says. “It's kind of our hangout on Earth.”

“Really?” I ask, thinking that sounds a little creepy. “Where did he die?”

“His was kind of a unique ending,” Leo says mysteriously. “We'd hate to ruin the surprise.”

Leo definitely has a macabre sense of humor, and I don't quite trust him. But Thatcher has no doubt discovered that I didn't follow orders and wait for his return. He may be searching for me. I'm not ready to face his disappointment.

“Yeah, let's do this,” I say.

“You won't regret it,” says Reena.

But some part of me already does.

 

Leo howls the entire time that we're in the portal, hurtling through space. It's almost like the rebel yell that the guys at school used to let out during tailgating parties—loud and long and full of fight. But when they did it, it sounded like the volume was turned up on life; Leo's yelp is more like an eerie echo of death, and I shiver as we pass through the portal, stepping out on the metal rail of a train track and stumbling down to the wooden planks.

A bony arm catches me. “Whoa there, Callie.”

“Hi, Norris,” I say.

He grins. “The gang's all here.”

I spot Delia's blond curls before she turns around to say hello. Then Leo and Reena emerge from the portal and it closes up with a spark.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“Lyndon's Crossing,” says Delia.

“Why does that sound so familiar?” Looking around at the railroad tracks, the trees growing on either side of them, I don't think I've been here.

“Some stupid kid died here a few years back,” says Leo, staring right at Norris. “Train-dodging idiot.”

“Shut up, man.” Norris knocks Leo on the arm.

And then it hits me . . .
Norris Porter
. It happened when I was pretty young, but his death was a big deal—the train cut him in half. I remember that awful detail because I told my father that I thought maybe Norris Porter could be fixed by a magician, one who saws his assistant in two and then puts her back together. But my father shook his head and says, “No, Callie, that doesn't work in reality.”

After the accident these tracks were closed for a few years. But they opened them again last summer. I guess everyone thought it had been long enough.

When Norris starts joking around about
Blood on the Tracks
by Bob Dylan being the soundtrack to his death, I ask him if it's weird to be here.

“Nah,” he says. “I can't die
again
.”

The rest of them laugh. Putting aside my hesitation at being here, I join in. They seem so carefree, so light, and I yearn to be a part of that, to pretend for a little while at least that I'm not dead—and forget that I should be haunting and that I've caused others pain.

Soon the
chug-chug-chug
of a train in the distance echoes around us.

“Who's gonna go?” asks Leo.

“I think Callie should,” says Delia. “She's stronger than all of us.”

Her eyes glimmer playfully, and I search her face. Is she mocking me? Her smile is big, though, encouraging.

I grin back. “I don't think I'm stronger than
Leo
,” I say, “but I could definitely take the rest of y'all.”

Norris scoffs.

“So try the train dodge,” says Leo, a challenge in his eyes.

“Show her how it's done first, big shot,” says Norris.

“You're the expert,” Leo volleys back.

Norris laughs in that horsey way again. He doesn't seem to mind joking about his own death.

“You guys are such chickens,” says Delia, stepping into the center of the tracks. “Watch this, Callie.”

Her face is beaming as she stares down the locomotive that's rushing at her. Her golden hair catches the headlights, lighting up like curlicues on fire. The conductor doesn't blow a whistle, though. There's just the driving noise of the train, full speed ahead, as Delia stretches her arms out into a Y and looks up to the sky.

I always thought about trying something like this, but it seemed more foolhardy than daring. Maybe Norris's death left an impression.

My heart beats faster as the train gets closer. “She's going to get out of the way, right?” I ask Reena. “It's a dodge?”

“No need for that,” says Reena.

I will myself to stand still as the engine draws near. And even though I know we're all dead, that this train can't hurt Delia, I quiver with panic.

When the front car slams into her, Delia lets out a piercing yowl. It lasts as long as the train does—I count thirty-two cars. As the final one moves past, Delia jumps off the tracks, shining like she's lit up from within.

“Woooo!” she yells.

Norris runs up to her, picks her up off the ground, and twirls her around. “Awesome.” Pride rings through his voice. I scrutinize his face for signs of grief or fear—this is where he
died
, after all—but I guess it's been long enough. He's more elated than anything.

I wonder if this is what it would be like for me if I went back to that spot on Route 52. Would I find peace there, finally accept what happened to me? Would it allow me to reach Nick?

Leo folds his hands around Delia's shoulders and drops his head back as though he can syphon her exhilaration. I'm not sure why it bothers me, why I have the sense that he's trying to capture something for himself. At the same time, I'm a little envious of the way they all touch so freely.

“You should try it, Callie,” says Delia. “It's a huge rush.”

She appears completely fine—beyond fine, actually. Delia beams like she just had the most exciting experience of her life. Or death.

“Have you guys all done it?” I ask.

“Yeah,” says Norris. “Even I've done it. The not-dying part is really cool.”

I laugh along with the rest of them, but I wonder if there's a part of Norris that finds this reenactment of his death kind of creepy or sad.

We sit by the side of the tracks and talk. All the while I'm watching Norris, impressed with how comfortable he is here. Eventually, I have to ask.

“Do the rest of you guys go back to your death spots, too?”

“Ours isn't fun,” says Reena, glancing at Leo.

“Ours?” I ask.

“Mine is depressing,” says Delia, shifting our attention to her, and I'm left with the impression that she's trying to protect Reena and Leo, save them from a question that was intrusive. “Hospital,” she says. Then she whispers,
“Cancer.”

“Oh,” I say. “I'm sorry.”

“It's been a while—it's okay,” she says. “Plus, when I died I got all this back!” She shakes out her golden curls and they fall around her shoulders.

I don't know if I'd have been as accepting, but I understand why she craves the thrills that she probably never had in life.