Almost Dead (Dead, #1) (10 page)

The
flames crackle in the stone fireplace and every few seconds emit a loud
pop
. I jump. Plus, my stomach is flipping out. What if Sara catches me? What if we’re not supposed to be out late? Maybe there are evil ghosts lurking in the bushes.

A shiver C"+0 la ting
les up my spine as I dismiss that mental image.

Twisting the
knob and slowly opening the door, I toss the book out into the mist. I have no clue where it landed, just that it’s somewhere in front of me. I’m going to learn this before tomorrow. Good thing ghosts don’t really require sleep.

Soundlessly, I
close the door. I always thought spirits like being creepy and scaring people with their rusty doors and strange noises, but now I know they don’t do any of that unless they need attention. It’s kind of sad, in a way. And desperate.

“Where are you, book?” I
whisper. Fog continues to pass by. Waves of ashen sheets break into various directions as they collide into my legs. Moving my hands back and forth doesn’t work, as they run straight through. With the intense haze steadily moving, this is going to be ten times more difficult.

Sara had said I need to focus all my energy on the object. With my body growing more fragile, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to practice
. I
do
know that if I can’t learn this exercise, I’ll be stuck in Lichburn while Flora spends her merry time up top.

The thought of Flora returning home while I stay here
and sling books across the yard makes me want to hurl—which forces me concentrate more than ever. An electric pulse gradually magnifies under my skin, and my fingertips begin to glow. I’m so fascinated by the brightness emanating from me, I lose all focus, and the light dims.

“Damn
it!” I stomp my foot. Habit, I guess. It’s not like it works here.

Again,
I think. At least I know what’ll happen this time. The stimulating energy prickles from head to toe. I close my eyes, imagining the book reaching my hand—struggling, at first, but eventually finding its way. God, this better work; otherwise, I’ll throw a bitch fit the afterlife has never seen before.

My eyes remain shut so I won’t lose focus. Over and over again
I play out the event in my mind and hope for the best, but my strength is failing. The electricity isn’t as strong anymore. I squeeze my eyes tighter, tighter, tighter. My ticket to freedom—and life—is only two feet away. I can’t let this slip.

A dull
thump against my palm takes me by surprise.

“I did it,” I whisper
, as I open my eyes and stare at the book in my hand. Why was that so hard for me earlier?

“Congratulations,” Sara says
from behind me, and my entire body jolts.

The
novel drops, swallowed again by the fog.

“I d
idn’t know you were out here.”

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leisurely glides toward me. “I wanted to see if you had what it takes, without pressure.”

“Well, uh, thanks for not interrupting me, I guess.” I move to brush past her, but she steps in front of me.

“I want you to know that I’m not taking sides. I do believe you can do this, but Flora was the first to understand. I’ve already promised her she could go.”

I glance at the depressing fog, grass, trees—anything but her. “Whatever. You can say you don’t take sides all you want, but the trut
h is you’ve taken hers. I should be the one who goes. I learned the first two lessons before she did. That’s got to count for something.”

“You’ll be next to go. Trust me, Laney, I
know you don’t want to be here. I hate keeping you, but it’s my job to prepare people for the world as a ghost. If you don’t have the skills necessary to travel and move things, then how will you survive?”

Shaking my head in disbelief, I
stare her directly in the eyes. “It’s
so
unfair. I don’t care what you or anyone else in Lichburn says. I should’ve been teleported out of this place by now.”

Sara opens her mouth, but closes it and
steps aside. She’s learning that if I don’t get my way, I’m more stubborn than a kid who needs a nap. And I’m learning that being in Lichburn is like one long nightmare after another.

Except
I can’t wake up.

S
ara says if someone dies today, I can enter the Shadowlands. God, that sounds so morbid. It’s so weird how I can just take the place of someone else. Like Lichburn can’t have too many spirits, so they enforce crowd control. One dies. One moves on. Another stays behind. Who knew ghosts had rules?

There’s a thick air between Sara and Laney this morning. I don’t know what that’s about, other than Laney
not leaving Lichburn first. She couldn’t even touch the book when we were in the yard.

Last night,
after Laney’s dramafest, Sara and I stayed up so she could coach me how to not use so much energy. She said I’ll wear down fast if I don’t take breaks. But even if I do rest, my body will still feel thin. I’ve estimated that we only have a few days, more or less, before our bodies give out.

“So, we just wait?” I ask.

Sara nods, biting her lower lip. I’m sure she hates keeping Laney behind.

“How does it work, exactly?” asks Laney. “I mean
, does your doorbell ring or does something spooky happen?”

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“No,” Sara says. “I’m just…aware.”

Laney continues. “Like you were aware when we fell off the cliff? How is that possible?”

“I can sense any spirit within my region. Other spirit guides aren’t able to sense you two, just as I can’t sense theirs.”

I have to give Sara credit. She’s very patient when it comes to Laney. If it were me, I would’ve left her spirit wandering by the cliff. But that’s why I’m not a guide, I guess.

“So
, there’s more than just one of you?” Laney inquires, picking at a stone on the fireplace.

To my surprise, Sara giggles. “I can’t take care of the dead on my own. Think of the multitudes that pass every day. How could I be with each? It’s not possible
. So, yes, there are more of us.”

“Oh,” Laney states. She continues using her neon-pink fingernail to pick at the stone. I don’t know what she’s doing. Biding time? Looking for answers? Sara’s already told us what will happen.

“How much longer?” I’ve never wanted someone to die so badly in my life, but now everything depends on death.

“There is an elderly man in his home. His last breath will be within the next hour,” says Sara. She stands at one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing out at the fog that never stops moving.

I stare at her. “What?”

“I can sense when humans are about to pass, when they’ve passed, and when they’
re lost.” She says it so easily that it’s as if she’s clarified her job duties for hundreds of years. Maybe she has. Who knows?

My stomach gnaws
on itself, and I think I might puke. Soon, I’ll be able to see Mia again. Even though she won’t know I’m there, how badass will it be to scribble a note and watch her wig out?

“Can you kill someone as a ghost?” Laney asks out of the blue.

Sara fumbles for words, opening and closing her mouth, but finally settles on affirmation. 

I snort. “You plan on killing your pageant competition?”

Laney makes a big display of stomping across the living room and plopping down on the couch. “No,
Flora
, I’m asking in case someone doesn’t kick it soon. What if I’m stuck here until I die?”

“Wait…
you want
me
to kill someone?”

She smiles. “Not exactly kill them with your hands, but, you know, scare them a little. The older the better. It wouldn’t take much for an eighty-year-old to have a heart attack.”

“Not going to happen.”

“Why not?”

The poor thing. She’s convinced herself it’d be better to murder a living soul than to wait in the afterlife. I respond, “Because I have one reason to be up there, and it doesn’t include freaking out nursing home residents.”

Laney scowls. “Whatever.” She mumbles, “I’d
do it for you,” in route to one of the guest bedrooms.

What?
She slams her bedroom door shut, and I stand rooted in place, dumbfounded. Who is she, and what has she done with Laney Tipps?

Sara pleads to me with her eyes, as if I’m the latest serial killer of the elderly. Yeah, right.

“I’m not going to do it,” I tell Sara, but she gives me the same look again. “I’m not! I swear. Maybe she would…” I motion toward the general vicinity where Laney disappeared.

“
I’m going to reiterate this one more time to both of you.” Sara raises her voice so Laney can hear, too. “You don’t have much time. When you use energy to warn your families, it drains you. If you can’t convince them to search for your bodies, you’ll be stuck in the afterlife forever. If I were either of you ladies, I wouldn’t spend my time bickering. I would spend it making myself useful, practicing for what lies ahead.”

I nev
er think about what lies ahead, to be honest, but I guess now is a good time to start.

“
Less than forty-five minutes.” Sara turns back to the window, where the fog curls against the glass. I might be wrong, but I swear I can see faces in the mist. “He’s fading much quicker than I anticipated,” she says, and I’m positive those words are only meant for her ears.

“What
, exactly, causes the haze?” I question, hoping to pull her out of that depressing trance. Sara doesn’t spin around or acknowledge me, at first. It’s as if she’s mesmerized by whatever’s in the miniature clouds.

“They’re the Damaged. Neither
Rosewood nor Caer want them,” she says, eventually. “They were once people who never believed in anything, their bodies so hollow not even their souls lived on. So, what little piece remains of their tainted spirit is forever trapped here.”

That sucks.
I can’t imagine what’s left of me being stuck in a fog for the rest of my pathetic existence.

But she mentioned something about Rose and Carl?
Are those people, or…? “I’m confused. Who are Rose and Carl?”

“Rosewood and Caer,” she corrects. “They are beyond this world
, beyond Lichburn. When one’s heart is judged by the Elders, they are sent either to Rosewood, with its towering glass-and-pearl castles, or they are sent to the Floating Islands of Caer, where they remain caged in the Prison of Caerisle. I would not wish the latter on any being.”

“So
, why can’t they just reside in Lichburn?” I move closer to the window, afraid that if I move too close, the Damaged might reach through the glass and carry me away. I’d be a part of them for eternity.

“Something’s wrong with their
heart and soul, something deep. A defect. They aren’t nice, but they aren’t mean. They aren’t happy, but they aren’t sad. Our laws forbid them from residing here, so they’re ingested by the ever-present fog.”

“Like,
eaten
?” I swallow a hard knot in my throat. This is like a weird-ass 1930’s horror flick. My mind begins creating fake headlines: GIRL SWALLOWED BY FOG; FACES SEEN IN THE MIST; HAZE CONTROLS CITY. Though it’s totally compelling—like, I briefly
want
to be chewed up for experience purposes—I have to jerk my head away.