by Sarah Wynde
And the cloudiness? It was sort of more like cloudy vision than actually being in a cloud, as if everything—which was nothing—was out of focus.
It felt like a dream. Only not a dream.
And then a firm hand grabbed her wrist from behind, and Akira stumbled as she was pulled, away and down and backwards.
“We are not staying,” Rose said, voice as firm as her grip.
“Wait!” Akira protested. “What about my parents? Shouldn’t I see them?”
Rose waved a hand in the cloud as if to brush away the idea of meeting Akira’s parents and kept moving. “They’ll be there when you go back. There’s no rush, you know.”
And then it was too late. They were back in the room she’d just left.
“What the hell?” Akira demanded. She’d wanted to meet her mom. Her only memories were so fuzzy and indistinct. And she’d wanted to see her dad, too. Their relationship hadn’t always been easy, but he’d loved her. She wanted him to know that she was doing okay without him.
Although dying probably wasn’t the best way to show him that.
“Not hell,” Rose replied, shaking out her skirt, and then patting her hair into place. “But we don’t want to be there.”
“Rose!” Dillon exclaimed from the doorway. “And Akira?” He sounded doubtful as he said her name, Akira noticed, so she looked down at herself. Had she changed? Nope, same old self.
“That doesn’t seem good,” said Zane’s mom.
“No,” Dillon agreed. Both of them were looking from her to Zane and back again. His back was to her, and he was kneeling on the other side of the bed, closer to the window so Akira crossed to his side and looked down.
She looked pale, she noticed dispassionately. And not terribly healthy. Maybe Rose was right and she needed a new shade of lipstick.
“Breathe, Akira, breathe,” Zane was saying.
Oh, dear.
Akira tried to breathe experimentally.
It felt like she was breathing. Her chest moved as if her lungs were absorbing and releasing oxygen. But she couldn’t feel any air shifting through her mouth or nose. She held her hand up to her face and tried to blow. Nothing.
“But, Rose, what about Henry?” Dillon was saying behind her.
“Henry’s fine,” Rose answered. “His wife was a touch unhappy that he’d waited for me, but she’s getting over it. Quick, Akira, go get back in your body.”
“How?” Akira asked. She didn’t seem to feel any kind of a pull toward her body. It was strange watching it, but it didn’t really feel as if it belonged to her anymore. It was just there.
“Maybe if you lie on top of it?” Dillon suggested.
“Just put it on like clothes, you think?” Akira asked. It didn’t sound appealing, but she was willing to give it a try. She stepped over her body, then, feeling silly, lay down on top of it, moving through Zane’s hands and arms as if they weren’t there.
Moving through a human was strange. She’d always felt it when ghosts moved through her: that tingle of spirit power, the sizzle of feeling. But she felt nothing moving through Zane.
And nothing moving through her own body, either. She wiggled experimentally and waited.
Still nothing.
“Not working,” she reported from her position on the ground. She could see the ghosts, standing behind Zane, but most of her attention was focused on his face.
“I’m so very sorry about this,” Zane’s mom said to Akira. “I had no idea.”
Akira nodded, still watching Zane. He was giving her CPR now, rhythmically pushing on her chest, as he chanted under his breath, “Come on, come on, come on.”
“I knew it was dangerous,” Akira said. “I thought I’d be able to absorb enough of the energy to bring you back to consciousness. Sort of like ghostly detox. Then Dillon could have talked to you and you both could have moved on together.”
“Moved on?”
“Through the passage,” Rose interjected. “Can you see it?”
As the ghosts fell into conversation behind Zane, Akira watched his face. In the dim light, she could see beads of sweat forming at his temples. With the power out, the room must already be heating up.
Some part of her had been waiting for the end, but this wasn’t how she’d thought it would come.
She’d imagined he’d get tired of her, find her too crazy, move on the way guys always did. Oh, maybe in the beginning it had been just as likely that she might find his irreverent attitude annoying and become so prickly that he’d retreat in self-defense, but she’d known for weeks now that that wasn’t going to happen.
She liked him too much. When she got prickly, he knew just how to make her laugh. When she was anxious and fretful, he knew just how to soothe her. When she was with him, she forgot to be scared.
Of course, that wasn’t necessarily a good thing, she realized.
“Did he hit me?” she asked abruptly, interrupting the ghostly conversation about passageways.
“What?” “No.” “Of course not!” The answers came all at once, Rose surprised by the question, Dillon matter-of-fact, Zane’s mom shocked and maybe even a little offended.
She hadn’t thought so.
She rolled out of her body, sitting up, but staying where she could see his face. He looked both desperate and determined, his attention focused on his hands, one over the other, forcing her heart to pump, her blood to circulate.
She felt safer with him than she’d ever felt in her entire life, she realized.
It was an odd realization to come to while crouched over her dead body.
But he would never hurt her. Never crack her ribs, never twist her arm until the bone fractured. Never smack her to make her see things his way.
“Start breathing, babe,” Zane ordered her, without pausing his movements. Akira trailed her ghostly hand over his lower arm, stroking the taut muscles. She couldn’t feel him, and she knew he couldn’t feel her. And if she pushed just a little harder, her hand would pass right through his arm. But touching him was still comforting.
One hundred compressions a minute was the current standard for CPR, and it looked as if he was aiming for that. But how long could he keep up the pace? It was physically demanding work.
“I’m calling 911. I know you hate hospitals,” he threatened her.
Uh-oh. She’d died here. If an ambulance took her body away and she was trapped in the house, then it was game over. She’d never get back.
“Um, guys? A little help here?” Akira interrupted the ghosts again. Zane was pulling his phone out of his pocket, and if she didn’t figure out how to stop him from calling 911, she might be in big trouble. “We’ve got to stop Zane from calling an ambulance.”
Well, she was in big trouble no matter what. But worse trouble if her body headed off to a hospital without her.
Damn it, damn it, he was already pressing buttons. No, no, no, she thought furiously. Zane gave a convulsive shudder and his fingers paused.
“Akira?” he asked. “It just got colder. Bad idea?”
Oh, great. Communication via temperature change. For just a second, Akira tried to envision how she could use that ghostly ability to talk to Zane. Then she realized that another ghostly ability might be more useful.
“Can you fry the phone, Dillon? Like the Kindles?” Akira asked. She might not be able to talk to Zane but she could stop him from calling out.
“Yeah, probably,” Dillon answered her. “But how does that help you get back in your body? He should call an ambulance. You need medical help. You need to get to the hospital.”
“What if I’m tied to the house?”
All the ghosts started speaking at once.
“But if you’re not—” Dillon began.
“Should I try to take over your body again?” Zane’s mom asked. “Just to get your heart beating?”
“If your body starts up, maybe your spirit will get pulled into it,” Rose suggested. “No matter where you are, I mean. Or the parts of you.”
Akira pressed her hands to her head, trying to think. She felt almost panicky. Every option seemed dangerous. But what could she do? How could she get back in her body? If other ghosts could possess her, how could she possess herself?
Zane had set the phone down next to him, and was back to giving her chest compressions. He was concentrating, focused, staring at her still face for any hint of motion. The cold from Akira’s moment of panic must have faded, because he was dripping with sweat now, rivulets running down his bare chest.
Akira took a deep breath. She couldn’t feel it, but just as it had been for Rob, it was calming anyway.
“Dillon and Rose,” Akira said, steady now. “Work on the phone. Try to send him a text message.”
“But how?” Dillon protested. “I can’t control the power. I just zap things.”
“The same way Rose picks numbers on the remote control,” Akira answered. “If you can choose a number for a television station, you ought to be able to choose a letter on a cell phone.”
“But I’m not strong enough,” Rose said. “I can only make it change a couple of numbers at a time.”
“Work together. Dillon, instead of trying to control the phone, just try to push energy through Rose. Let her control it.”
The two ghostly teenagers looked at each other and shrugged, then crowded a little closer to Zane and his phone and started talking to one another.
Akira pushed herself to her feet and pulled Zane’s mom to the side. She’d been watching Zane, too, looking almost as worried as Akira felt. “Tell me how you took over my body.”
“I really am very sorry about that,” the older ghost started.
Akira shook her head, dismissing it. “It’s not important. How did you do it? If you did it, I ought to be able to do it, too. I just need to learn how.”
Zane’s mom bit her lip. “It’s like trying to remember a dream. A very bad dream.”
“Anything could help.” Akira could hear the edge of desperation in her voice.
“It was almost like I was caught in a storm on the ocean. Not rain so much, but wind tossing me around and darkness. I was calling for help, looking for something, anything, to hold onto when suddenly there were lights. Two of them, one bright blue, the other yellow.”
She frowned, and shook her head, her blue eyes far away. “I knew the yellow one was Zane, even though it was just a light. I tried to catch him, but it was impossible, like holding light would be. I couldn’t do it. But then I grabbed for the blue light, and it was solid. Soft, though.”
Zane’s mom was gesturing with her hands, as if she was trying to demonstrate how she had tugged on the light. “I could hold it, almost as if it was a pillow or a blanket. I dug my fingers in, and hung on, and tried to wrap it around me, and then . . .” Her eyes returned to Akira, and a wry smile pulled up one corner of her mouth, as she added, a hint of apology in her voice. “I woke up in your body.”
“A blue light?” Akira looked back at her body. Zane hadn’t given up, she saw gratefully, and neither had Dillon and Rose. They were hovering over his shoulder, holding hands, with Rose touching the phone.
“I’ve never used one of these,” Rose was saying. “There aren’t any buttons. How do I—oh, I see.”
But there was no blue light, nothing for Akira to grab onto. How much time had already passed? How much longer did she have left before the lack of oxygen to her brain made it impossible for her to return to her body?
“But I—I mean, my body—it was fine when you were in it, right? No pain?”
“Oh, I had a terrible headache,” Zane’s mom responded promptly.
Shit. A ruptured cerebral aneurysm could cause a headache. Blood would be seeping into her body from the burst blood vessel, hemorrhaging steadily.
No blue light.
A terrible headache.
There was only one possible conclusion: she was dead.
She felt suddenly numb, almost cold. Moving slowly, she sat down on the bed. “You can stop now, guys,” she said to Dillon and Rose.
“No, no, we’ve almost got it,” Dillon said, eyes bright with excitement as he glanced at her. “We’ve figured out how to get the letters working.”
“It doesn’t matter.” It was hard to get the words out. Akira thought she ought to be shouting, screaming, raging, but she didn’t feel it. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, not really.
Zane’s mom hadn’t meant to kill her.
Dillon hadn’t understood the danger.
Zane hadn’t even had a chance to save her—except for the endless moments of cardiopulmonary resuscitation.
She’d taken a risk and it hadn’t paid off.
But oh, she wished she’d told Zane she loved him.
She still could, she supposed. If Dillon and Rose could use the phone, she could have them text her message to Zane. What would she say? Apologize? Tell him he was the best thing that ever happened to her? Or just a simple, “I love you. Good-bye.”
Her eyes closed. She wasn’t ready. She didn’t want this. Somewhere, behind the numbness, a huge reservoir of pain was about to open up and flood her, Akira knew.
“Don’t give up!” Zane’s mom had been watching her and stepped forward. “Whatever you’re thinking, you could be wrong.”
If she let go, if she let the despair sweep through her, what would happen? Would she become the next red vortex ghost in this house, destroying the others in her grief?
She looked at Dillon. His enthusiasm had dimmed, his eyes back to their familiar worried expression. She tried to smile at him. “Go ahead. Send him a text,” she said. She didn’t think it would do any good, but there was no harm in trying.
But he and Rose didn’t get the chance.
The steady pounding of the rain outside had hidden the sound of a car pulling into the driveway, but the footsteps clattering up the stairs were unmistakable.
“Out of the way,” Natalya snapped from the doorway to the room, Grace and Max right behind her. Natalya was carrying a device made of white plastic with a carrying handle, colorful buttons, and intricate displays.
Suddenly the already crowded room was overflowing, with ghosts and people brushing past and through one another. Nat stood directly on top of Rose, who backed up, almost tripping over Dillon, before she bumped into Zane’s mom, who was greedily absorbing the sight of her family, eyes roaming from one to the next, taking in everything, even as Max stepped through her and craned to see Akira’s body. From her position on the bed, Akira watched, bemused by the chaos.
“Thank God,” Zane groaned, leaning back.
“You should have called me!” Nat’s voice held fury. “Damn it, Zane, what were you doing anyway?”
“Not me,” he said. “If I’d known this would happen, I’d have locked her in my office.”
“She said the house was dangerous,” Max pointed out, as Natalya efficiently began examining Akira, feeling for a pulse, then pulling open her shirt.
Oh, God. Akira squeezed her eyes closed. She supposed it was petty of her to be worried about which bra she was wearing when she was probably dead, but she really wished she’d chosen a nice discreet white instead of the black lace with hot pink lining this morning.
“What are you doing here?” Zane asked. “How did you know?”
“I saw it,” Natalya responded.
“But you don’t . . .” Zane started.
“Yes,” she snapped. “I try very hard to ignore my visions, and you make it very difficult, little brother. This is the second time this year. Now get out of the way!”
As Zane backed away, Natalya pulled the paddles out of the box, and Akira realized what she was carrying.
A portable defibrillator.
Hmm. Spirit energy could cause random electrical energy in her brain that led to seizures: could disorganized electrical impulses also disrupt a heartbeat? If being hit by the spirit energy was like being hit by lightning, then maybe it had caused a simple cardiac arrest. In that case, the problem with
her body might not be an aneurysm at all.
“Clear,” Natalya said. There was a hum of electrical charge in the air as the power built in the battery-operated machine and she placed the pads on Akira’s skin. And then, zap.
Everything went dark.
Shit, that hurt.
Akira forced her eyelids up.
It was Natalya’s blue eyes that were looking down at her, not Zane’s, and she felt a momentary stab of disappointment before she realized that seeing anyone’s eyes from this position was a good sign. Her body hurt like she’d just run a marathon and then followed it up by sitting for a six-hour lecture, every muscle stiff and sore, but nothing felt broken. And although her head didn’t feel good, it wasn’t excruciating.
Licking her lips, she whispered, “Zane?”
Nat sighed and then smiled as she pulled back and let Zane take her place.
Akira looked up at him, at the worry in his face.
“I couldn’t do it,” he said. “I couldn’t hurt you. It was so . . . it was too . . .” He shook his head, and Akira could hear the guilt and despair in his voice.
“I love that you couldn’t do it,” she said, voice husky, reaching to caress his face, sliding her hand along his cheek, loving the feel of him. A rush of love poured through her, so intense that the rest of the words just flowed out with it. “I love you.”
He reached for her, sliding his arm around her neck, lifting her up, until he could bury his face in her hair. For a few moments, they sat there like that, his arms wrapped around her, Akira relaxing into the warmth of his body, and then he pulled back to kiss her, taking her lips with an urgent ferocity that started Akira’s pulse racing.
Her heart must be working again, she thought fuzzily, as she kissed him back, the same urgency in her, locking her arms around his neck, until he let go of her mouth long enough to breathlessly say, “I love you, too,” before he started kissing her again.
“All right, you two, break it up,” Natalya’s voice was amused but firm. “We need to make sure there’s no permanent damage. I want to get Akira to a hospital as quickly as possible.”