I shook my head. “Where were you when your tire got a flat?”
“Near the old fire tower. Maybe a mile away from it.”
A chill swept through me. The abandoned fire tower wasn’t far from here. Only a few miles. “Do you have any family?”
“I...uh, just my mother and a brother.” His voice was hoarse. “How can you see me if I’m dead?”
“I just can.”
He glanced down the driveway. It was too dark for me to make out his expression. I thought I knew what he might be seeing.
“Is there a light there?” I asked, hopeful. “A really bright, white light that might’ve followed you here?”
“Yeah.” His laugh turned into a sob, and my heart squeezed once more. “There’s a—there’s a freaking light there. It’s been there since I—since I got away from that thing.”
“That’s good. I know this sounds cliché, but you need to go into the light,” I said, and thankfully Misha knew this was the part where he really needed to be quiet.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand.” His words cracked, and I winced.
“Everything will make sense to you once you go into the light. And you need to go,” I told him. “You can’t stay here.”
“Why not?” His voice was a soft whine.
That was a common question. “Because you’re meant to move on now, to what awaits you.”
“H-how do you know what awaits me?”
Another common question. “I don’t know exactly, but I do know that if you see a light, it’s something good.”
Never once had I come across a ghost that didn’t see a light, even if they’d died long before I saw them. That light followed them around like a happy puppy.
Some people were just too scared or confused to go into it. Couldn’t blame them for that. I’d be scared, too. Who wouldn’t be? Death was the great unknown.
“Will I see my father?” He was still staring down the dark driveway, to where I now knew that light was waiting for him. “He died a year ago. Car accident on US50.”
I tried not to lie to those passing over, because it felt wrong to do so. “I wish I could say yes, but I honestly don’t know. I just know that you belong in that light. It’s not going to hurt you.”
Wayne was silent again and then he stepped forward, and that’s when I moved closer to him. “Okay,” he said. “All right. I can do this.”
Lifting my thumbnail to my mouth once more, I squinted until his face became clearer. His image was more ghostly now than anything, but I still saw his expression the moment he decided to go into the light.
My lips parted on a soft inhale.
His eyes widened, and then warmth poured into his features as the look of a thousand Christmas mornings rolled into one settled into his expression. He began walking forward.
I asked then what I always asked when I saw that look settle onto their faces. “What do you see?”
Wayne didn’t answer.
They never did.
Even spirits who’d passed on and come back didn’t talk about what they’d seen. I guessed there was some kind of cosmic rule about it, like all the other stupid rules.
I did know that the light Wayne was about to enter would send him either upstairs...or downstairs. Heaven or Hell. They were both real, and based on the look on his face, I had a feeling he was about to experience something magical and pure. I’d never seen anyone scared once they decided to go into the light, and I theorized that meant all the ghosts I’d helped were bound for Heaven.
Wayne took one more step and then he was gone.
I let out a ragged breath, suddenly misty-eyed. I always felt that way after someone crossed over. I didn’t even know why. Lifting a hand, I tucked my hair behind my ears.
“Is he gone?” Misha’s voice was quiet.
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat and slowly turned to Misha, pushing away the lingering sadness. “We need to see Thierry immediately.”
“What?” Confusion filled his tone. “Why?”
I took a step toward him. “Because that man was killed near here...by an Upper Level demon.”
9
Upper Level demons could look human, just like a Warden, and oddly enough, when they were in their true skin, they also tended to resemble a Warden, minus the slate-gray skin and horns.
That was one thing the depictions of demons always got wrong. They didn’t have horns.
Wardens did.
“Stay here,” Misha ordered as we stopped just outside of the main banquet hall, in the atrium adorned with statues of gargoyles that didn’t turn into real, living creatures. They were spaced several feet apart, perched on the sides of the walls, wings spread wide.
Misha was gone before I could say a word, slipping through the open doors, and I was left alone with the statues.
I glanced to my left. The fanged open mouth of one of them was inches from my face.
They creeped me out.
Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I hurried toward the wide open doors and peered into the brightly lit hall.
My senses were immediately overwhelmed. So many people, many dressed in the bright ceremonial colors of stunning yellows and bright blues. The scent of roasted meat would’ve tempted me to rush in and grab a plate to go stuff my face in the corner somewhere if I hadn’t just seen Wayne’s chest and stomach.
Scanning the room, I couldn’t see Misha, but I knew he was most likely heading to the raised dais, where Thierry would be sitting along with Jada and her mother, Aimee. Our guests would be seated with them in a position of honor, and if I had decided to attend tonight, that was where I’d be.
I didn’t even know why I hadn’t gone. I’d been feeling weird all day, barely going through the motions of training with Misha and turning down an offer to join Jada and Ty for a bite to eat afterward.
I’d spent most of the day holed up in my bedroom with Peanut, watching Fresh Prince.
I gripped the edges of the door as my gaze crawled over the dozens of rectangular tables, toward the sound of raucous male laughter.
A Warden stood in the center of the room, dressed in the ceremonial garb of one who is about to receive the Accolade—white linen pants and a sleeveless shirt. He was too far away for me to see who he was, and there were at least twenty graduating this round.
Antsy, I shifted my weight from one foot to the next. What Wayne had told me couldn’t wait. We all knew that Ravers were often controlled by Upper Level demons, and what Wayne had described—
“Are you hiding again?”
I jumped at the sound of Zayne’s voice and whipped around. Good God, the guy was quieter than a ghost when he moved. He was standing only a few feet from me.
The first thing that I noticed was that his hair was pulled back once more, showcasing those high, broad cheekbones and the hard line of his jaw. I wasn’t sure which way I liked it better. Not that I should have an opinion, but I was thinking I liked it better down.
And I was also thinking I needed to get a grip.
The second thing I noticed was that he wasn’t dressed like the other Wardens attending the banquet. He was dressed as he usually was, in his black henley and jeans.
Was he not attending the banquet?
He lifted his brows, and I realized I’d been staring at him like a doofus.
I snapped out my stupor with a jerk. A strand of hair fell across my cheek. “Are you stalking me? Because I’m beginning to wonder.”
He smirked. “Yes. When I stalk someone, I always alert them to my presence.”
“You could just be a crappy stalker.”
“I could be.” He paused as his pale gaze flickered over me. My hair was down, and without even touching it, I knew it looked like I could’ve doubled for some girl in an ’80s music video. According to Peanut, anyway. My hair knotted pathetically easily. “I could just be as crappy at stalking as you are at hiding.”
I folded my arms. “I’m not hiding.”
“We really going to have this argument again?” Zayne stepped closer, dipping his chin as he spoke in a low voice. “Because it looks exactly like you’re hiding again.”
Stretching up on the tips of my toes, I met his stare. “If that’s what it looks like I’m doing, you really don’t have great observational skills.”
“I don’t know about that.” He straightened. His gaze flickered over my head, to the open door. “You’re not allowed in there? Is that why you’re hiding?”
The question threw me off and I glanced behind me. “I’m not hiding, and yes, I’m welcome to attend the Accolade if I want.” I turned back to him. “Why aren’t you in there? You’re the clan’s guest.”
“Not my kind of thing.” His fingers brushed my cheek, catching the strand of hair and tucking it back behind my ear. I jerked in surprise, not having not been able to see his hand move. He withdrew his touch, his brows knitting together. “I wouldn’t hurt you.”
Warmth crept into my cheeks. “No, you wouldn’t, because I wouldn’t let you.”
That half grin appeared, but it didn’t reach his gaze. “I wouldn’t think you would.”
Feeling oddly self-aware, I unfolded my arms and touched the tangled ends of my hair. “Why is the banquet not your kind of thing?”