“How were you feeling?” he asked with a heavy dose of caution.
“Less.”
“Less what?”
“Just . . . less.”
“Oh.” Zachary scratched his thumbnail over a nick on the black rubber steering wheel. “Good.”
“There’s a way to test my theory.” I jutted my thumb over my shoulder. “I have a translation appointment in fifteen minutes with one of our dead clients. If I go in there now, after you’ve kissed me, and the ghost freaks out—”
“Then it’s not just Logan.” He faced forward, shoving his hands through his hair. “If the ghosts can’t be around you, you’ll lose your job.”
“I can find another one.”
“Working at a coffee shop? That’ll look brilliant on your university applications.”
I fumbled with the door handle, wishing that for once, he would be selfish enough to fight for me. “I guess we’ll see.”
“Wait.” He touched my shoulder. “To make it an accurate test, you need to be thoroughly kissed.”
So he did, the most perfect kiss yet, as if we knew it might be our last. Despite the emergency brake, Zachary leaned in, pressing me into my seat and stealing my breath. I ran my hands over his face and hair, trying to record the feel of him in my fingertips so that later, if I had to, I could replay it in my memory.
Finally Zachary eased back—slowly, stretching the moment as long as he could. But not long enough.
We didn’t speak as I picked up my bag and got out of the car. There was nothing to say.
Even after Zachary’s engine faded down the block, and even though the trees and buildings cast deep shadows, I didn’t see a single ghost.
I hoped it was only because of the tears in my eyes.
I waited in the conference room for Aunt Gina and her client. Unable to sit still, I pulled the thick dark blinds against the late afternoon sunlight. Then I checked the BlackBox switch by the door to make sure ghosts could get in. The attorneys left it on most of the time to keep this room private.
The door opened, and my aunt walked in with her paralegal, Terrence, who handed me a slim folder with the name of the deceased printed on the tab. To stay neutral, I never heard details of the case before an interview.
Gina set a small reading light on the table next to her papers. She turned it on, along with a digital voice recorder.
I sat at the table, trying to slow my pulse through sheer willpower. If this ghost had a bad reaction to me, then Zachary really was changing my essence. If the ghost was okay, then the change only reflected my feelings for Logan. I wasn’t sure which possibility troubled me more.
Terrence went to the light switch by the door. “You ready, Aura?” I nodded, and he turned off the light.
I cleared my mind of anti-ghost thoughts—not usually necessary, but I needed every edge I could get. “George Schwartz, come forward.”
The ghost appeared on the opposite side of the room, near the window. Though he might have been old when he died, as a ghost he appeared forty, dressed in a simple polo shirt and casual slacks. I wondered what had happened to him that day, to freeze him at the happiest moment in his life. The birth of a child? Promotion to vice president of something-or-other? A hole in one?
I would never find out. Ex-George took one look at me and released a brain-shattering shriek, like tires squealing before a car crash. I covered my ears and closed my eyes.
The noise cut off abruptly, replaced by my aunt’s voice.
“Aura, what’s wrong? What happened? Is Mr. Schwartz here?”
I opened my eyes. The ghost was gone.
Ears ringing, I wondered if I could invent the client’s story to cover my transformation. No, that would be impossible, not to mention illegal.
But I’d promised Zachary I’d never reveal his secret, and there was no way to explain my change without telling Gina who it came from.
She patted the table, her antique gold ring clacking against the wood. “Aura, is Mr. Schwartz here or not?”
I was glad I was sitting in the shadows so she couldn’t see my face as I spoke carefully. “I think Mr. Schwartz needs to reschedule.”
The moment I shut my bedroom door behind me, I called Zachary.
He answered after half a ring. “Well?”
“The ghost freaked.”
Zachary exhaled hard. “Bugger.”
“I made up an excuse, so Gina doesn’t know anything.” I noticed my clean laundry was still stacked on the trunk at the foot of my bed, where I’d left it the night before. Might as well put my nervous energy to good use, I thought, opening my closet.
“What exactly happened?” Zachary asked. “Tell me everything.”
I related the short but disturbing incident as I hung up my faded skinny jeans. “This guy’s reaction was off the charts. When I’ve seen you repel ghosts, they just disappear. They don’t scream.”
“So the power’s getting stronger?”
“I think so. The first time Logan sensed you on me, it was painful, but he could stay with me for a few minutes. The second time, he almost shaded.”
“Does he know why?”
“He and Megan might guess, based on what happened last night. We’ll talk about it when we meet.” I thought about the night of my birthday, when Logan had briefly shaded out. I’d kissed Zachary hours earlier, but Logan hadn’t mentioned a red cloud. Maybe it had worn off by the time I saw him, or maybe my red sheets and obsidian necklace had created too much static for him to notice. “We should experiment to see how long your effect on me lasts.”
“Experiment? Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Not completely. We need to figure out what’s happening.” I shook out the dry-cleaning bag with the black-and-white crinkle dress I’d worn on our date, pained at the reminder but glad the tomato sauce stain had come out. “You know, it’s kinda nice not having ghosts around. It’s nice being more like you.”
“I dunno anymore what that means.”
The dread in his voice set off my Ramble Reflex. “I’m not saying I want to trade places with you. You’ve got your own problems with all the—I mean, how’s your dad?” I grabbed a plush blue clothes hanger from the closet. “Did I already ask you that?”
“Aura, I saw a ghost.”
I stopped, squeezing the clothes hanger. “That’s impossible.” “Seems like a lot of impossible things are happening. We may need to redefine that word.”
“Where was this? What did it look like?”
“Out my window last night, after you left and after I got the news from my dad. Just a flash of violet on the street.”
I held back a sigh. “Back when people first realized that kids could see ghosts, a lot of pre-Shifters thought they could see them, too. But when they were tested, it turned out they couldn’t. They were just delusional.” Yikes, bad word choice.
“I’m not delusional,” he snapped. “Why would I want to see ghosts?”
I softened my voice. “Because your father might die, and you’ll miss him.”
“He wouldn’t even become a ghost if he died from this. It has to be sudden, aye?”
“You say that, but deep down, you’re scrambling for ways to hold on to him. Maybe seeing ghosts is one of those ways.” I switched the phone to my other ear, giving him a chance to respond. He didn’t, so I continued. “I’m not trying to psychobabble you. But other people have gone through the same thing. There’s no proof that anyone but post-Shifters can see ghosts. You’re not like us.”
“And you’re not like me. But your aunt’s client didn’t see it that way today, did he?” Zachary’s breath rushed out, like he’d sat down hard. “It’s too much to take, all at once.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I hung up the dress and laid the black silk wrap over it, remembering how he’d drawn it across my shoulders.
“Things are happening very quickly, things we don’t understand. It could be dangerous.”
I halted with my hand on the wrap
. “Dangerous to who?”
“You and me. Your mother and my father both got lung cancer. That can’t be a coincidence.”
“Yes, it could. Especially since my mom had a different kind. I asked Gina. It was adenocarcinoma.” I mangled the pronunciation.
“But she had it, at a young age, which is bizarre. We don’t know what we’re playing with here.”
“Playing with?” He was making me more nervous with every word. I yanked open my sock and underwear drawer.
“You can’t deny we’ve changed each other.”
“I’m not denying it, I’m just trying not to lose my shit over it.” I jammed a stack of socks into the drawer. “You sound like you’re scared to be with me now.”
Instead of reassuring me that wasn’t the case, he fell silent. I pressed the phone tighter against my ear.
“Zach? You’re not saying—are you?” No. Not when we’d finally found each other.
“Aura, it’s not just about you and me. The Shift affects everyone. And after what happened to our parents—for all we know, there are deadly forces coming out of Newgrange.”
My lips trembled as I wondered if the DMP had tapped our lines. “We shouldn’t be talking about this on the phone. Why don’t you come over?”
“It’ll make this too hard.”
This. Breaking up. Not being together. Ever.
Anger trampled my fear. After all these months of denial? After finally discovering how right it felt to be with him? No way I’d let him go without a fight.
“Maybe it should be hard. Maybe we shouldn’t throw it all away just like that.” I snapped my fingers. “Why can’t we be together like normal people?”
“We’re not normal people. You’re the First, I’m the Last. We belong to different worlds, and we’re breaching the boundary between those worlds.”
“So? Let’s breach.”
“We don’t know what could happen. Look what just kissing has done to change us. What’s next? We could tear the whole bloody universe apart.”
I rolled my eyes. “God, you sound like the DMP! Maybe you should go join those paranoid drama queens. You’d look so hot in that starchy white uniform.”
“How can you be so casual? For all we know, your mother died because of the Shift. My father could die. And who else?”
“But we don’t—”
“This is big, Aura. Too big for us to understand.”
“It’s too big for us not to understand.” I kicked off my right shoe, letting it fly into the open closet. “It’s too important to run away from.”
“I’m not running away. But we can’t be together until we know it’s safe. We can’t take that chance.”
“Yes, we can.”
“I won’t.”
His words dropped like a pair of boulders. I sank down on the end of the trunk. “You don’t want me.”
“Don’t say tha’.” His whisper twisted in pain. “Of course I want you.”
“Not enough to fight for me.”
“This is how I fight for you. I don’t want you to be hurt.”
“And I don’t want you to be noble.” I clutched the footboard of my bed. “I want you to be here.”
“I can’t.”
“You won’t.”
“Same difference.”
“No. It’s not.” I hung up before he could hear me cry.
My body grew heavy, as if gravity had suddenly tripled. I slipped off my other shoe and curled onto my side on the trunk, resting my head on one of the two piles of clean shirts.
Atop the other pile was the black V-neck I’d worn last night. I placed my hand on it, wishing I’d kept it out of the laundry. Maybe then it would still smell like Zachary.
Even as my cheeks flooded and my chest ached at the unfairness of it all, part of me wondered:
Had Zachary seen a ghost? Had the Shift made our parents sick?
Could a kiss really change the world?
As I checked my reflection in the dining room mirror for the fourth time, I hoped that tonight would bring answers instead of more questions.
I also tried to forget where I’d been this time last week: in a dark, frigid field, with Zachary keeping me warm.
“Good color choice.” Megan tucked in the tag of my royal blue sweater. “Not red, not violet. Definitely don’t want to wear team colors tonight.”
“Teams? You mean ex-boyfriend versus ex-almost-boyfriend in the World Series of Awkward?”
“Ooh, and I wore black, like an umpire.”
“You always wear black these days. It’s depressing.”
“We were talking about you.” She put her arm around my shoulder. “Don’t worry, you look hot. In three minutes, Zach’ll be kicking himself for breaking up with you.”
The knock at the door made me jump.
“Make that three seconds,” Megan added.
I smoothed my hair on my way through the living room, grateful my aunt was working late so she wouldn’t interrupt our four-way meeting.
I opened the door for Zachary. Tonight the porch light on his face seemed sallow rather than golden. His eyes drooped at the corners, as if he hadn’t been sleeping.
“Hey,” I said softly. Despite my hurt, it was hard to stay mad at him, knowing what he was going through with his dad.
“Hi.” He glanced past me. “Am I late?”
“You’re never late.” I stepped back from the door into the living room, as far as the furniture would allow. “There’s tea and cookies in the dining room. Sit in the chair at the other end so Logan can’t see you.”
“Why?” Megan asked me as Zachary passed her. “It’s not like they can beat each other up.”
“You’ll see.”
She picked up a cookie and sniffed it. “Mmm, almond. So, Zach, are you really taking Becca Goldman to the prom?”
I glared at her. She knew damn well he was.
“I really am.” He sat in the far chair without looking at me.
Megan held her hand under her chin to catch the crumbs as she munched. “I thought she’d get back together with Tyler Watson, since he’s way ahead in prom king polls.”
“He’s with Stacey Sellars now, and before that, Caitlyn Adams—”
“But Tyler and Becca are historic. They were prom prince and princess last year.”
“And this is this year.” Zachary slapped open his notebook. “Call the ghost.”
Megan picked up another cookie and joined me at the bottom of the stairs, where we could see into both rooms. I flicked the wall switch to turn off the living room lamps, leaving a few candles burning, then dimmed the dining room chandelier to its faintest setting. The house looked ready for a séance.
“Okay, Logan,” I said. “You know where to go.”
He appeared, standing next to the far end of the couch. He cast a wary gaze around the living room, then at the stairs behind me. “Is that guy here?”
“Zachary’s in the dining room.”
“And he’s a pre-Shifter, so he can’t hear me call him a dickwad, right?”
“Logan, sit down and shut up.” I clanged a spoon against a mug to call the meeting to order. “Before we start, we all have to promise total secrecy.”
Megan raised her hand. “Swear.”
“You know you can trust me,” Zachary said.
Logan winced and covered his ears. “Could he not talk? It hurts my soul.”
Since Megan’s mouth was full of cookie, I said to Zachary, “Your voice seems to bother him, so maybe you could write your questions and answers.”
Zachary scowled as he clicked on his ballpoint pen.
“Wait.” Logan raised his hand like a schoolkid. “Ghosts can’t lie, so I can’t swear secrecy.”
“Zach already knows you can’t lie.” I looked into the dining room. “You sure you’re okay with this?”
Zachary nodded and scribbled in his notebook, then tore out the page and slapped it on the table for Megan, who retrieved it.
She laughed,
sucking powdered sugar off her thumb. “It says, ‘If he tells anyone, I will obsidian his punk violet arse into oblivion.’”
“Very funny,” Logan said. “Hey, before I share any secrets with this guy, I need to know if we can trust him.” He looked at Megan. “Ask him if he’s a fan of Rangers or Celtic.”
She sifted through the assorted cookies. “I don’t think he gives a shit about hockey and basketball.”
“But he gives a giant shit about soccer. Rangers and Celtic are the two big teams in the Scottish Premier League. They’re both from Glasgow, like him.”
“So?”
“It’s not like rooting for the Yankees or Red Sox. Rangers fans are anti-Irish.” He looked at me. “Anti-Catholic.”
I shook my head. “You really need to enter the twenty-first century.”
“Zach,” Megan said, “Logan wants to know if you root for the Rangers or the Celtics. Apparently, the fate of the universe depends on your answer.”
Zachary gave a silent scoff. His left eye twitched as he scrawled his essay-length response. Then he tossed the whole notebook to Megan.
She angled the paper to the dim light of the chandelier. “It says, ‘I don’t fancy either of those overpaid packs of bawbags. I support Partick Thistle. Real football for real Glaswegians.’” She winged the notebook back to Zachary. “I don’t know what that means.”
“Did he pass?” I asked Logan.
He simmered. “Bastard probably always says the right thing.”
“Nope.” I noticed Zachary writing frantically. “Now what?”
He held up his notebook to face me: I get to ask him one free question at the time of my choosing.
“What is this, the Supreme Court? Just ask.”
He circled at the time of my choosing.
“I’m bored,” Megan said. “Let’s spill some secrets.”
I launched into the first point before anyone could interrupt. “Zachary and I were born a minute apart. Right before and after the Shift.”
“Old news.” Megan bit her cookie. “You told me when you guys met. Tons of people are born every minute.”
“Not in our minutes. Zach and I were the only ones.”
“What happened to the other babies?” Logan glared at the dining room. “What did he do to them?”
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