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I thought of Brendan, little more than a child himself, stoic in his fate, as if it was the price one paid for following a dream. I thought of the young teens I passed on the street in L.A. and Chicago and every other big city, all the lost children. And, just for a second, I thought of myself, of my own child, lost all those years ago.
Something grazed my arm. I opened my eyes to see Jeremy. Drawn by my thoughts, concerned. He glanced at me. Then his attention was snagged
by something to the left and he tilted his head, confusion in his eyes. I followed his gaze, but saw only the ghosts standing guard.
Fingers tickled my cheek. More brushed my hair. The whispering began. I went still, straining to hear, convinced I was imagining it. Then Eve stepped through the rosebushes.
"They're here," she said.
WITH THE arrival of the children, my role ended and Eve and Kristof's began. They knelt on the path and prepared to conduct the ritual the Fates had given them. Kristof set up the materials. Eve recited the incantation. Jeremy stood silently at my side. The children patted me and whispered. I don't think I breathed through the entire thing.
When Eve finished the incantation, the touches and whispers of the children stopped. I swear my heart stopped with them. I looked around frantically, trying to catch a glimpse of them, praying something hadn't gone wrong.
Then I saw a faintly shimmering form. Then another. A third. A fourth. As faint as Brendan had been.
Slowly the tallest form materialized. A boy about thirteen. Dark eyed, probably Latino, with hair that fell into his face, reminding me of Jeremy. I instinctively smiled, and the boy's gaze went to me, head tilted, as if trying to figure out what I was looking at.
"Hello," I said.
He smiled. "Hi."
Another of the forms materialized. A girl about eleven, with lank dark blond hair held back in butterfly clips.
"Rachel?" I said.
My voice caught as I remembered what I'd done to her, seeing those bony fingers frantically clawing the air.
"Rachel, I--"
She ran over and threw her arms around me and I swear, for the briefest second, I felt them. Then her hands passed through me. Eve came up behind her and knelt, putting her hands on the girl's shoulders as if to reassure her that she could still touch someone.
Behind Eve, another girl had appeared. A couple of years younger than Rachel, with cornrows and glittering earrings that caught the light as she looked around, uncertain, as if she didn't quite recognize the world from this side of the veil. I walked over to her and bent down.
"Hello, there. I'm Jaime. And who would you be?"
Maybe not the right question to ask a traumatized child, but she met my gaze and smiled, as if finding something she did recognize.
"'Lizbeth," she lisped.
I looked up at the older boy.
"Manny," he said before I could ask. "Manuel Garcia."
"Todd," said a voice behind me.
"Chloe Margaret Fisher," said another.
I turned to see a boy about eleven, chubby with wild red hair. Behind him stood a pretty brunette around the same age.
"Pleased to meet you, Todd and Chloe. I'm Jaime. This is Eve."
As Eve approached, holding Rachel's hand, I glanced up to introduce Jeremy, but he'd stepped back, out of sight. I nodded. Explaining to the children why he couldn't see them--that they were ghosts--wasn't something they needed yet.
I looked around the group. "Five. I thought--" I glanced at Eve. "There are supposed to be six."
"Number six coming up." Kristof's voice floated from somewhere in the garden. He rounded a bush. In his arms was a small boy, his face buried against Kristof's chest. "This is Charles. He's shy."
I greeted the boy and he nodded, his face still against Kristof.
