Heels clicking, I kept moving. My gaze darted to Barnabas and Lucy, both still sprawled on the tile. «I'd rather stay, thanks.» My heart pounded, and my back hit the wall. A little yelp slipped from me. I was far enough away from them that I should be misty, but I wasn't. I stared at Seth, then at that black stone about his neck. It was the same. Damn it!
«You don't have a choice,» he said. «I'm the one that killed you. You're mine.»
He reached out, grabbing my wrist. Adrenaline surged, and I twisted.
«The hell I am,» I said, then kicked him in the shins. He clearly felt it, grunting as he bent in pain, but didn't let go. He had put his face in my reach, though, and grabbing his hair, I slammed his nose against my rising knee. I felt cartilage snap, and my stomach turned.
Cursing in a language that hurt my head, he let go and fell back.
I had to get out of here. I had to be solid or I'd never make it. Heart pounding, I grabbed the stone about his neck, pulling the necklace over his ears and off him. It tingled in my hand like fire, and I clenched my fingers around it, willing to suffer if it meant I would be whole.
Seth hit the floor, gaping up at me with red blood covering his face. He looked as surprised as if he had run into a glass wall.
«Madison…» Barnabas rasped from the floor.
I turned, seeing him stare at me with pain-laced, unfocused eyes.
«Run,» he gasped.
Seth's amulet in my hand, I turned to the open hallway… and I ran.
Chapter Three
«Dad!» I stood in the open front door, heart pounding as I listened to the silence seep up from the tidy, well-ordered state my dad kept the house in. Behind me, a lawn mower droned in the early sun. The gold haze spilled in to glint on the hardwood floors and the banister leading upstairs. I had run the entire way in my heels and that obnoxious dress. People had stared, and that I wasn't a bit tired kind of freaked me out. My pulse was fast from fear, not exertion.
«Dad?»
I stepped in, my eyes pricking with emotion when from upstairs came my dad's incredulous, shaky voice calling, «Madison?»
I took the stairs two at a time, tripping on my skirt and clawing my way up the last step. Throat tight, I rustled to a stop in the doorway to my room. My dad was sitting on the floor amid my boxes, opened but never unpacked. He looked old, his thin face gaunt with heartache, and I couldn't move. I didn't know what to do.
Eyes wide, he stared as if I weren't there. «You never unpacked,» he whispered.
A hot tear ran down to my chin, coming from nowhere. Seeing him like this, I realized he did need me to remind him of the good stuff. No one had ever needed me before. «I… I'm sorry, Dad…» I managed as I stood there, helpless.
He took a breath and snapped out of it. Emotion lit his face. In a surge of motion, he stood. «You're alive?» he breathed, and I gasped when he took the three steps between us and brought me to him in a crushing hold. «They said you were dead. You're alive?»
«I'm okay,» I sobbed into his chest, the release washing through me so hard it was painful. He smelled like the lab he worked in, of oil and ink, and nothing ever smelled so good. I couldn't stop my tears. I was dead-I think. I had an amulet, but I didn't know if I was going to be able to stay, and the fear of that fed my helplessness. «I'm okay,» I said around a hiccupping sob. «But there was a mistake.»
Half laughing, he pushed me back enough to see my face. Tears brightened his eyes, and he smiled as if he'd never stop. «I was at the hospital,» he said. «I saw you.»
The memory of that pain crossed behind his eyes, and he touched my hair with a shaking hand as if to reassure himself I was real. «But you're okay. I tried to call your mother. She's going to think I'm crazy. More crazy than usual. I couldn't leave a message telling her you were in an accident. So I hung up. But you're really okay?»
My throat was tight, and I sniffed loudly. I was not going to give up my amulet. Never. «I'm sorry, Dad,» I said, still crying. «I shouldn't have gone with that guy. I never should have. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!»
«Shhhh.» He pulled me back into a hug, rocking me, but I only cried harder. «It's okay. You're all right,» he soothed, his hand brushing my hair. But he didn't know I really was dead.
His breath catching, my dad halted in a sudden thought. He put me at arm's length, and the cold that spilled into me when he looked me over ended my tears in a soft sniffle. «You're really fine,» he said in wonder. «Not a scratch on you.»