Gradually rising to my feet, I shake my arms, roll my head around a couple of times, and try again. But this time around, all doubts are tossed aside when Mia passes through me. Mia. I latch onto her car without thinking twice, pulling myself into the backseat. How did I transfer my energy so quickly? Maybe I was ready this time around? I don’t know. I do know that if home is where she’s going, then that’s where I’m going, too.
For a brief moment, I wish I could feel the breeze on my face, tugging at my hair. But there’s nothing. Not the smell of car exhaust. No sunshine on my face. Nada.
Mia’s a speedy but cautious driver; she signals every time she turns and brakes long before she’s supposed to. Even hanging out in the backseat seems safe. It doesn’t matter if I fell out, though, because it won’t hurt. After all, how can a spirit be injured?
I j>One glance to my right and I realize where we’re at. Death’s Cliff.
Where my body is.
Where I can’t call for help because I’m unconscious.
Where I’m dying.
I want to scream at the top of my lungs, I’m down there! But she’ll never hear me. Nobody in this alternate universe will hear me, unless I visibly apply my energy onto objects.
Mia slows the car and pulls onto the overlook. She waits for two cars to zoom by before opening the door and stepping out. What is she doing? Her mouth moves as she inches closer to the ledge, but, of course, I can’t hear what she’s saying. What I can decipher is that she’s sad, worried almost. Her lips bend downward at the corners, and her shoulders hang lower than normal. Her fingers pick at the bottom of her shirt, and then move to her jeans, where she wipes her palms. She stares into the gully, like she’s considering whether the jump will kill her. I wish I could tell her that it doesn’t. Not in all cases, anyway.
Is it possible that, deep down, she can feel I’m there? Sara had said we can control things. What about minds? Maybe I thought about telling Mia I’m alive and somehow those words were relayed to her brain. Even though she can’t see me, maybe she can hear me. Like we’ve switched roles. I can see but can’t hear. She can hear but can’t see. Is that how it works?
There’s only one way to find out.
“Mia? It’s Flora. I’m beside your car.”
I cross my fingers and anxiously wait.
Seconds turn into minutes, and there’s no response, no acknowledgement, that Mia can hear me. So, maybe the connection is deeper than that. Maybe it’s like a person convincing themselves of something over a long period of time so they eventually believe what they say. Maybe she’s convinced herself that I went over Death’s Cliff, but she’s not really searching for proof.
Does nobody notice that the guardrail is bent and pieces are missing? Laney’s tires squealed, didn’t they? Or were those mine? Either way, black-rubber markings are on the pavement. How can she not see that?
Ugh. I want to scream.
If Mia can’t see what’s right in front of her, I’ll have to work extra hard at proving I’m in her presence. Proof is a funny thing, but boy do I have it. Sara didn’t send me up here just to play in traffic and listen to this God-awful background noise. I came here to convince family and loved ones that I’m still alive, and damn it, I’m going to give it my all. There’s only one chance to make this work.
Mia eventually slides into the driver’s seat and starts the engine. What? No looking around? No explor Snd?entualation of the surrounding area? She’s just giving up.
As we drive off, I peer over my shoulder, watching the chasm where my body rests become smaller and smaller.
e car,r">
e car,r">
e car,r">
chapter eleven • laney
Sara hasn’t bothered to check on me for a good thirty minutes. Now that Flora’s gone to fulfill her pointless quest, there’s no use in Sara pretending she cares about the failure that’s hanging out in her guest room. I’m more upset by the fact that I didn’t get my way. Nobody ever denies me anything—not my parents, not Chase, not my friends. No-bah-dee.
Except Oliver. He doesn’t take shit off anybody, especially me. But that’s mostly because I give him an attitude.
Ugh. This is my fault. Maybe I should’ve apologized to him when I had the chance. Maybe I would’ve stayed at his boutique longer than normal, and maybe that would’ve changed my fate. Flora and I would’ve never wrecked. This nightmare wouldn’t exist.
“Laney.” Sara’s singsong voice startles me, but I don’t move from my position on the bed—lying down, facing the wall. I’m quite comfortable, thank you very much. “Let’s practice. I want to be confident you understand how to use energy before you leave.”
“Oh, yeah, now you care,” I say, picking at nonexistent dirt under my fingernails.
Sara sighs, but it comes out so light and airy. “I can’t force you, but I will say that I’m disappointed. You were so adamant about learning before.” She waits for some sort of response, I guess.
To avoid eye contact, I don’t roll over. It’s when you make eye contact that people break you down, and I don’t want to be broken. And sometimes, I swear, Sara can look right through me, to my soul. It’s just creepy.
Sara finally catches on that I’m not going to talk and exits. I kind of feel bad for her, but the fleeting thought vanishes when I think about how she chose Flora over me. What’s Flora even doing up there? Has she warned her parents, or my sister? If they can find her before someone else hands me a one-way ticket, then there’s no reason for me to return home. But this is Flora I’m talking about. She’s probably trying to find a local bar to hang out at, knowing I’m stuck in this place.
Ugh. I hate her.
Even though Sara’s long gone, I mumble a response to her statement about me giving up, “Maybe it’s because you didn’t give me a chance.” And it’s true. So, so true. I nailed moving my hand through objects and walking through walls. There should be no reason why I didn’t go home first. But because Flora can manifest energy bette Vnd?enbjecr than me, she gets to see her family again.
Stupid.
Surprisingly, as if the walls told her what I said, Sara appears in the doorway.
“Look,” I say, without giving her an opening to speak, “I’ve always had a chance to make something of myself, and my parents have been there to back me up, but all I’ve ever accomplished is winning plastic crowns at pageants. This one time I finally do something right and…and…” I can’t bring myself to finish.
Damn it. I’m not broken. I’m not broken. I’m not broken.
“Laney,” Sara coos, “I’ve never not stood behind you. It’s just that…Flora learned how to move objects in a dimension that mirrors the Shadowlands, so she was the one I sent on, the one I knew would make it without trouble.”
“I deserve first place,” I mumble, then realize how stupid I am for saying that. This isn’t a pageant. I’m not running for prom queen. This is life or death.
“Laney?” Sara presses.
“Fine. I’ll practice with you. But when the next person dies in Briarhaven, I’m on the first ride home.”
“Of course.”
I had almost convinced myself that she’d keep me here until I die, but I guess not. Following her through the cabin and out the front door, we resume slapping the worn-out book across the lawn. This goes on and on and on for, like, two more hours. Actually, I’m not sure how long we’ve been out here, but it feels like forever.
Sara tells me to take a break.
“I can make some tea, if you’d like,” she says.
“Why do you always drink tea? Were you English in your former life?” I joke.
She’s as calm as ever when she replies, “I was born in England, but I grew up in America. My mother was English. She enjoyed drinking tea in the mornings and late afternoons while we played in the gardens.”
I can’t believe I’m thinking this, but it’s like I want to hear about her previous life. Even my body leans forward to soak up more juicy
details. This is better than those celebrity gossip sites.
“Gardens, huh? So, your family was rich or something?”
“Mmm…” She muses, weighing the options in her head. “I guess you could say we were. We had a comfortable life, never worrying about money. We had a lovely home, family, and friends. Mother entertained guests with lavish parties. Father loved to hunt. He was a carpenter, and was very go [d ws. Motod at it, I might add. He loved hand-carving toys for me, my brother, and my sisters.”
It’s like I’ve been transported to a different time period. The more Sara talks, the more her face lights up. The more I see the person she once was. And that’s when it really hits me—she’s no different than me, or anyone else. She was a human being, too.
“When was the last time you saw your family?” I ask.
“Nobody’s ever questioned that before,” she says, her eyes focusing on the rug underneath the coffee table. Seems she’s recalling a distant memory, plucked from the back of her mind, where it’s been buried for a while.
“It’s been one hundred and thirty-five years since I last saw them,” she continues. “I was the first to die. Mother was next; her heart eventually failed her at an old age. Then Father. My sisters and younger brother died later in their lives from different causes.”
“What happened to them?” I prod. I really shouldn’t be asking about dead people and how they died. Sara might want to keep the good memories alive and leave the others, well, hidden.
But Sara obviously doesn’t think like me, because she begins telling her story. “Bess, my oldest sister, committed suicide after her house caught on fire. She lost everything, including her husband and children. The children had been playing upstairs while Bess swept the porch. A candle had been left too closely to the kitchen curtains when the fire started. The blaze became too strong, the flames too high, the heat too intense. Bess knew she couldn’t rescue them, but her husband, Elijah, who had just returned from town, said he would get them. He went in but never came out. And Bess just…couldn’t handle the pain.” Sara still focuses on one spot on the floor, like that’s the source of her recollections.
Before I can tell her how awful it is that she lost her family—and that I really don’t want to hear any more depressing stories—she recalls what happened to her other siblings.
“Melly was two years younger than I. Sometimes, though, I think she acted older because of her condition. She felt left out. It was Bess and I who partook in activities together. Mother assigned us responsibilities for parties and decorating, and when it was time to make dresses, Bess and I always went to town with Mother. Melly never had that option.”
“Why not?” I wish I had popcorn or candy to munch on. It would make these gloomy stories ten times more intriguing.
“She was ill. Doctors back then diagnosed her as having a weak immune system. We’ll never really know what was wrong with her, but I doubt the doctor’s diagnosis was correct. She remained indoors and couldn’t be around many people.” There’s a deep crease between Sara’s brows as everything pools together.
“S [ize diao, no parties?” I guess.
Sara shakes her head. “No, no parties for Melly. Though Bess and I decided during the Midsummer’s Ball one year that Melly had to peek, just once, at the glittering gowns and the gentlemen in their tuxedos. So, we brought her down to the lower end of the second-floor staircase.” Sara pauses, a giant grin spreading across her lips. “All three of us stuck our faces between the side railings, like we were spying on the festivities. But Melly…her eyes sprang open as the miniature orchestra serenaded the room with a waltz, and light danced through the chandeliers and onto silky fabrics.” Sara lets out a happy “Mmm…” sound, her shoulders relaxing.
“You miss her.” It’s not a question. Judging by the way Sara remembers her family, she loved them very much.
A moment later she responds, “I do miss her. I miss all of them.”
“But you saw them after they died, right? I mean, you said your final goodbyes?”
Sara smiles at me, deeply, warmly. “No, Laney. I never saw them after they died. We’re given the option in Lichburn to watch over those we love. I saw my brother and sisters grow, saw my parents become old, saw nieces and nephews that I’d never meet be born, and some die. I saw everything. Birthdays, weddings, dances, funerals. I saw the only person I’ve ever loved move on and love another. Everything.”
I gulp loudly, but my saliva sticks on the back of my tongue. You know that sudden, razor-sharp strain that slices your throat when you think of something horrible happening to a person you love? Yeah, well, I’m experiencing that right now. What if I died and had to watch Chase move on and love someone else? I don’t know how I feel about that, about being able to watch him without him seeing me. I’d have to sit back and observe him grow old, knowing I couldn’t grow old with him. Knowing I would never be The One. Knowing some other girl took my place, gave him a happy life, with children and unforgettable memories. Honestly, I don’t know how the hell Sara did it. All those times Chase has been there for me when I needed him—when my parents almost divorced and I had a nervous breakdown, when I fell down the stairs because I thought I’d look hot in six-inch heels and broke my ankle, when I bitched and moaned about my pageants and how terrible Oliver was. Yeah, in the scope of things, none of those matter. Chase never complained.
“That, uh, must’ve been pretty tough.” I don’t even want my eyes to meet hers. She might examine my soul and know what I’m thinking. But I’m pretty sure my features are a dead giveaway right about now.
“And, lastly, my little brother, Joseph.” She grins at the mention of his name. “We always called him Joe. He was the troublemaker of the family, constantly upsetting our mother with his antics. But later, she laughed about it.”
“What kinds of things?” I was a total brat when I was younger, so I want to see how this kid measures [kidwhen I nup. I mean, it may be a difference of, like, two hundred years, and they might’ve lived in the Stone Age, but that doesn’t mean little monsters have changed much since then.
“Well, for instance, Ralph, our butler, would finish preparing breakfast, set the tray out, and then Joe would tiptoe into the kitchen and snatch a pastry or two while Ralph’s back was turned.” Sara’s fingers cover her mouth, and she smiles behind them. “Then there was the time, during one of Mother’s spring dances, he crawled on all fours in the ballroom, looking up women’s dresses.”
I snort, knowing I shouldn’t, but that kid was probably a heartbreaker when he grew up. He already had the infatuation that most boys grew into as teenagers. And he was daring, to top it all off.
“The time he chopped off Bess’s hair when she took her afternoon nap... She woke up to one side shorter than the other.” Sara laughs at the memory. “Oh, he was a menace.”
I’m afraid to ask, but I do anyway. “What happened to him?”
“He died in a horse accident. As he grew older and matured, finally, he and our father bred horses. Then, one day, he was on a hunt and was thrown from the horse. His head connected with a rock, and that was the end.” She shrugs, but does it in a way that seems like she’s accepted his death, along with the others. “They were so fun to be around. Even aside from the fact that we had our differences—and Melly being sick and Joe acting like a little hellion—we all had one thing in common.”
“What’s that?” I interject. I’m sure she was about to tell me, but whatever.
“Love. The greatest gift a family can have. I know it sounds dull and exaggerated, but it’s the truth. That’s why I’m so adamant about helping spirits reach their loved ones. Sometimes those that pass through don’t realize what they had until it’s taken from them.” Her face loses its glow, and I realize she went through this. She’s been here before, been through what I’m going through.
“So, when you said spirit guides are able to watch their families and the people they care about, can they actually visit them, too?”
This might sound a little crazy, and maybe the atmosphere in Lichburn is messing with my mind, but I have to ask her one thing. “How did you become a spirit guide?”
“The guide who helped me wanted to leave his position. When my family wasn’t able to reach me in time, I returned here and was given two options: stay and help others like I had been helped, or move ahead, but neither came without servitude.”
Not a shabby idea. I mean, it’s not like you can’t see your loved ones on the other side, so it’d be cool to know what they’re doing and how they are.
“Do you ever think about moving on?”
Sara draws in a short breath. “All the time. More than anything I want to be with my family again. It’s been so long, and I know they’re wondering where I am, why I’m not with them.”
“You’ll be with them again one day.” I have the sudden urge to cry for this woman. And I never cry about anything! Not even the time Marcy Vanes purposely slung chocolate pudding on my white shirt in the cafeteria so that most of the student body could see. She was just pissed because Chase liked me and not her.
“Thank you, Laney. I hope so.” Sara stands and meanders toward the small kitchen area behind us. “You sure you don’t want some tea?”
“Actually…I think I will have some.” I’ve never had real tea in my life, unless the fake, sugary-sweet green tea in a bottle counts.
I wait for what feels like forever. Sara’s almost too quiet. When I turn around to see what the holdup is, she looks like a statue.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Laney, I have to leave soon. I apologize.”
Um, okay… “Where are you going?”
Almost Dead (Dead, #1) Page 8