As I rid myself of bad thoughts, I realize this location has its own distorted beauty. This would be Mia’s wet dream, living out the rest of time in a place where no color existed. She’d be so jealous of me right now.
Laney scoffs. “Do I even want to know why you’re smiling?”
“I was thinking about your sister and how much she’d love to be in your place.”
“Well, I would gladly give it to her,” Laney says. “I mean, you two freaks belong here. A normal person’s nightmare is your sanctuary.”
“Look at you,” I sneer, “thinking outside the box. I guess all of that blonde hair dye hasn’t murdered your brain cells after all.”
She sticks outalse stick her tongue. “Oh, shut up. At least I don’t drink the blood of my enemies.”
“Funny. I don’t recall drinking yours.”
“Not yet,” she retorts.
“Indeed.”
Lying back, I allow the fog to bury me under a thick, white blanket. Technically, there isn’t a sky, as the gray extends as far the eye can see, so it’s not like I’m missing out on stars or the moon. I’ve never realized how important they are until now.
Soft weeping comes from my right. I sit up, far enough to notice Laney hunched over, her face buried against her bent legs.
“Crying isn’t going to help, ya know,” I say, even though I sound like a complete bitch. Well, let’s be honest, I am a complete bitch. But also, I’ve never really been in a situation where I needed to comfort someone.
“You don’t understand!” she yells, fists tightly clenched. “I have family, friends—people who care about me. I have to get home. There’s an important pageant next week, and I’ve been busting my ass to win that crown.”
Are her tears even real?
“Must be hard, practicing to win a fake, jewel-studded tiara,” I mock.
“Oh, you! I wish we’d never crashed. I wish none of this ever happened,” she sputters.
“That makes two of us. As soon as I find a way out of here, I’m gone,” I calmly state, redirecting my gaze toward the bland woodland beyond.
“I will show you the way out,” a high-pitched, female voice says, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. She appears out of the gloom, rays of light surrounding her form, like a vision of hope.
I bolt straight to my feet and stumble backwards. “W-who are you?” I stammer.
Her lips barely curve at the edges. “My name is Sara, and I will be your spirit guide.” Her voice chimes when she speaks, like a chorus of one thousand bells, and there’s a halo encasing her entire body. Is she an angel?
“It’s about time we get help,” Laney says as she stands up and folds her arms across her chest. If this lady truly is here to aid us, then Laney needs to keep her mouth closed. I don’t want to be stuck here for the rest of my existence—wherever here is.
“Where are we, exactly?” I ask.
“I have a great deal to tell you both,” Sara says, “but I’m afraid we’re running out of time. There’s only so much undnly so I can do to help you before you leave here.”
Laney’s arms drop to her sides, and her fingers spread out when she speaks. “Leave here? Where are we going?”
“To the Shadowlands, a sister dimension of your world,” Sara replies.
“We’re not dead?” Saliva balls up and tangles in my throat. That’s…good news, although I’m unsure how we survived the crash. Our bodies are pretty messed up.
“No,” she answers. “Your souls have not yet moved on.”
The longer I stare at her, the more my eyes burn. I’m afraid I’ll go blind at any moment. Wispy tails of fog whirl around her form. I have no idea if it’s the mist or something she emits.
“So, if we’re leaving this place and going home, can I ask where we are?”
Sara smiles genuinely. “Lichburn. It’s an alternate realm, an extension of where you stand now.”
I glance over at Laney. She’s giving Sara the same vacant expression.
Unfettered, Sara continues, “Your physical bodies have not perished, though they may be in terrible condition. You have only a matter of time to warn those who can aid you. I’m afraid we’re restricted in our studies together, ladies,” says Sara. “There’s only so much time…”
I swear to God she’s hovering a foot above the ground.
“Like studying homework?” Laney inquires.
“No, I need to teach you how to move objects and contact the living so that you may tell your families where your bodies rest.”
“Wicked,” I exclaim. “When do we start?”
Laney sighs dramatically. “Look, I don’t really care who you are or what you’re here for. I just want to get out of this place, so if you could hurry this up, that’d be great.”
“Don’t be a bitch,” I tell her.
She scowls at me, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder. “I don’t have to listen to you, freak.”
“Ladies, please,” Sara appeals. “We don’t have much time.”
Laney’s eyes roll around once in their sockets. “I swear I just said we need to speed up this little shindig.”
Maybe I can finish off her body before this is over with. That’s if we make it out of here. Crossing my fingers.
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chapter six • laney
Why am I the one who gets stuck with a freak from the afterlife and a freak from real life? Personally, I don’t want to go anywhere near Sara. She scares me—and not in the way of I’m-going-to-eat-your-face, but the way of I’m-hiding-something-and-then-I’m-going-to-eat-your-face.
Ew.
Sara leads us past where we were stuck before and through some uncolored trees (imagine that). It’s fantastic knowing that the discoloration of this world is never-ending. Oh, and my spirit feels as if it’s thinly stretched, like taffy before it’s molded and cooled.
Before I can ask why this is happening to me, a portal filled with blue, purple, and green swirling matter opens ahead. Having not seen color for a while, the radiance burns my retinas. It’s like when I’m in a tanning bed and don’t wear the protective goggles. Ugh.
“If you think I’m going through that, you’re badly mistaken,” I say.
Flora gives me a severe look. She wants this. I understand; I want it, too, just not with either of them. I’ll take Oliver over these weirdoes any day of the week.
“Fine. Remain here until your body dies,” Flora states, completely emotionless. Even her face is a blank slate.
Bitch.
“Fine. I’ll do that,” I say, lifting my chin a little higher. Maybe all of the lessons with Oliver about keeping my head raised are paying off.
“Laney,” Sara begins with a gentle voice, “if you stay, I can’t help you. When the portal closes, there is no turning back. I can only help those in need once.”
“Basically, you Barbie wannabe,” Flora cuts in, “you either stay and die or you go and have a chance at living.” She’s upset with me, but it’s not my fault I’m indecisive. I don’t want to be led into Satan’s parlor. I have to be cautious around these two.
I stomp my foot. That usually how I get my way with Chase. “Whatever,” I mumble. “Just…hurry up so I can make it to the pageant next week. I need to look good in that dress.”
Flora tosses me a dumbass look. I know what I’m talking about. She probably doesn’t even know what a dress is. Go worship Marilyn Manson or something.
“You’re so stupid,” Flora states, though it’s not like her opinion really matters. She’s never accomplished anything in life, except being a burden to everyone around her. “Even if you do make it out of here alive and recover froze=bm this accident, you won’t be in that pageant. You’ll be in a damn hospital.”
Huh. Okay, maybe the weirdo does have a point. Wait… Oh, my God. I won’t be in the Miss Briarhaven pageant. My life really is ruined. I’ve been training for weeks—m
onths—and for what? Nothing.
I’m about five thousand percent done with existing.
“Follow me,” Sara says melodically. Her voice is like using a fillet knife on the end of my nerves: painful.
Sara disappears first, followed by Flora. I curse under my breath. Is this what I want? Am I dumb enough to believe some creepy, angelic being appears out of nowhere, saying she only has one chance to help us? What if she’s lying? What if I step through that portal and it’s all a trick?
Ugh times ten. This place is starting to annoy me. And—
Oh, my God! The portal’s closing. It’s now or never. Plus, I really don’t want to stay here by myself. So, without second guessing this whole idea, I leap through the entrance. The experience isn’t entirely horrible, I guess. Inside, the portal has the same blue, purple, and green shades as it does on the outside, and there are specks of glitter floating on top of the colorful waves of whatever this thing is made of. White light radiates at the end, the intensity nearly blinding me. The closer we get, the greater the brightness. I shut my eyes, hoping my retinas haven’t been permanently damaged…and stumble as my feet hit a solid surface.
We’ve landed in a tiny log cabin. Windows extend from floor to ceiling. A stone fireplace ignites on its own in the living room. The furniture is draped in cream-colored sheets, books are forgotten under piles of dust and cobwebs, and white candlesticks have melted, wax hardened along their edges.
“Ummm…if you’re, like, a ghost, how do you have furniture and books?” I ask. It should be an easy question. I mean, how’d she transport these belongings to another dimension? And why are we in color but everything else is gray?
Flora and Sara stare at me, but I don’t tell them my thoughts. Oh, my God. What if Sara steals items from people who die? She might’ve stolen my purse when I wasn’t looking. Does this mean she’s technically a grave robber?
“Our world isn’t so different from yours, Laney. We may not be up to date with technology, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have basic necessities. Now, make yourselves at home. This may be a long night,” Sara says, taking a seat on one of the chairs. Flora sits on the couch. I lean against a table next to a dusty bookshelf.
“You aren’t glowing anymore,” I say, eyeing her up and down like she’s a cheap trick. I don’t have time for games.
“I don’t glow within ownglow withe confines of my home. Out there”—she points toward the ginormous floor-to-ceiling windows—“is different. Out there, I light the way.”
“How touching,” I add, for lack of a good comeback. She’s like an angel in disguise. In purgatory. I don’t find this comforting.
“I’m going to teach you both how to move through objects,” Sara states, getting right to the point. “It’s simple, once you acquire a feel for the ability.”
Move through objects? What good is that going to do? I need to be put back inside my body so I can use my cell phone and call my parents, or Chase.
Sara leans forward and runs her hand through the coffee table before I can object to any more bullshit. It doesn’t land flat on the wood with a thud—it completely disappears from sight. I glance under the table to make sure I’m actually seeing this.
Flora’s eyes are wider than the Atlantic Ocean. “Whoa. How’d you do that?” She runs her hand over the solid surface.
Sara says, “This is what I’m going to teach you.” She ends her declaration with a proud smile.
A smile that freaks me out. They both freak me out. I don’t want to be here anymore. I want this day to be over with so I can go home. Instead, I’m trapped.
“Flora, let’s begin with you, since you’re already sitting down,” says Sara. “The trick is to concentrate on pushing your energy from your core to your fingertips. When you can focus your energy anywhere in your spirit form, you will be able to do many things.”
“Like what?” Flora inquires.
“We’ll get to that in a bit, but first, I want you to start small. Then we’ll work our way up from here.”
This has to be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard of. That, or the coolest. I mean, who doesn’t want the ability to vanish into thin air…or a wall? I’m suddenly feeling overjoyed at the thought that Flora might fail this task, though. Standing back, watching her, has given me a new perspective on this whole ghost ordeal: Sara isn’t teaching us this stuff for fun. It’s important.
“What’s this for, anyway?” I ask. Someone’s got to, and I definitely don’t hear Flora opening her big mouth to question why.
“My job is to teach you essential tools to use in your reality, when you get your second chance.”
Um…is she talking in riddles, or is it just me? “What second chance? We’re basically dead.”
“No, Laney, you’re almost dead. In order for you and Flora to have a fighting cyoua fighthance, you’ll have to warn your families or loved ones that your bodies are at the base of a cliff. I can only keep you two alive and well for so long while you remain here with me. After you leave here, nothing is promised.”
There’s no way either of us will make it in reality. No. Freaking. Way.
I hate to admit it, (and I won’t to anyone’s face), but once Sara explained the gist of why we’re students in Moving Through Objects 101, it made some sense. I mean, I don’t want to be a poltergeist, but if that’s what it takes to get my family’s attention, then I’ll be the scariest, most persistent poltergeist Briarhaven has ever seen. I don’t even know if the town’s ever had a paranormal occurrence, so maybe I’ll be first on the leader board.
“Again,” Sara tells Flora. If Sara’s losing patience, she doesn’t show it. Her features are as soft and endearing as they were a few hours ago. I watch her—my own tolerance wearing thin—and how she takes her time showing Flora little by little how to move her hand through the table, making it invisible.
Flora’s fully concentrating; she bites the tip of her tongue as it sticks out one side of her mouth. But when her hand hits the tabletop with a dull crack, she shouts, “Damn it!”
“Do not be discouraged, Flora. You are doing so well. With just a little more practice, you will achieve this.” Sara places her hand on top of Flora’s.
I’m almost jealous.
Almost.
Why does Flora get all the attention? Why can’t I learn this stuff? That’ll make her shut up, if I ace it before she does.
“Let me try,” I interject, prancing over to the table and plopping down on the floor. It looks like we’re preparing to have a séance, minus the Ouija board. And there’s also the fact that we’re the ghosts.
Sara momentarily freezes in place, but shakes off her surprised state and says, “Okay, try it.”
My hand hovers above the table. I concentrate on becoming invisible, like Sara instructs, and on my hand gliding through the slab of wood. When I let my palm drop, it lands with the same earsplitting crack as Flora’s.
Okay, maybe this won’t work after all.
“Again,” Sara says.
We both attempt to move our hands this time, and we’re both met with the same sound. Flora growls in annoyance. I try to keep my cool and make this work, but so far no luck.
Meanwhile, Sara sips on tea that has an aro sht has amatic flavor. It’s nothing I’ve smelled before, I can say that, but it does remind me of Oliver’s studio. Great. Now I miss cappuccino.
Flora concentrates on her hand and the table. I’ve basically given up. How can something be so difficult? It’s like practicing for the pageant. I can walk and strut all I want, but Oliver claims I still don’t have it. Whatever it is.
“You’re doing well, ladies,” Sara says. “Just a little more effort.” She’s silently reminding us that we don’t have the rest of the year to make this work. Sara? She has all the time in the world. She’s dead and has nothing better to do.
I’m different, though. I have a family that’ll be looking for me—even a boyfriend—and they have no idea where I am. I gaze at Flora. How long
has she been friends with my sister? Sad to say, but I don’t know much about this girl. All I’m certain about is that she drinks like she lives in a bar, smokes on school property, and listens to bands who scream the lyrics. Her parents care more about her brother, Derek, than they do her, and last year there was a rumor at school that she might get emancipated. How can someone live like that? She has nothing to live for.
I should be the one who gets this hand thingy. Not her.
Okay, concentrate. Focus your energy, so it’ll work this time.
My body might be through a portal somewhere, though…
No, no, no. Don’t think about your body, or how this world looks like it’s covered in ash. Think about the energy, and how you’re going to use it.
“Laney? What’s wrong?” asks Sara. “You’re not trying. There’s only so much—”
“Time? Yeah, I got that,” I say.
I force all of this bad energy and negative thoughts through my arm and into my hand. It tingles, like liberated electricity. I bring my hand down, waiting for the cracking noise, but it doesn’t happen. My hand goes straight through the table.
God, I love myself.
“How the hell did you do that? I’ve been trying for longer than you.” If Flora were in her true body, her face might be redder than an ember in the fireplace.
I shrug. “Oh, you know. Practice.”
She stands up. “That’s not fair! Tell me how you did it.”
“And what’s in it foro, s in i me? Will you take my clothes to the dry cleaners for the rest of the year, if we live?”
“Ladies, please,” Sara says. “Sit down, Flora. This takes some time.”
Almost Dead (Dead, #1) Page 4