I’ve failed Melody, who followed me out of the underworld, who became my fast friend and fierce protector. She trusted me to keep her safe, and she’s now locked up somewhere because of me.
I’ve failed Harper, leaving him behind even when he begged me not to. Harper, who looked at me like I was worth something, who made me feel like maybe I could belong somewhere, whose warm hands and gentle eyes made me think that maybe, just maybe, things would work out this time.
I’ve failed my brother’s memory. Jonathan died standing against Rowan. And here I am, about to become the danger Jonathan gave his life trying to prevent.
And I’ve failed myself.
A laugh bubbles up in my throat, silent in the muted room. The irony is almost too much. I finally find my voice, my power, and Rowan literally silences it. I’m trapped, body and power, by a man who wants to use me as a tool for his twisted ambitions.
The silence is the worst part. I’ve always had music or at least sound. Even in my darkest moments, I could hum, sing, tap out a rhythm. Now there’s nothing. Just the maddening absence of sound and the riot of my own thoughts.
It’s like I said. This sucks.
Blast from the Past
Dodger
I slide down the wall of the laundry room, my back against the washing machine. Rowan’s gone, but his threats echo in my mind. Melody’s trapped somewhere, and I’m supposed to be his pet necromancer. I drop my head into my hands, fingers tangling in my hair as I pull it loose from its ponytail. My powers are stronger than ever, I’m in control of my abilities for the first time in my life, yet I’ve never felt so utterly powerless.
Rowan has me at his mercy. A sob catches in my throat. I’ve spent my whole life running, and now that I’ve finally found someone worth staying for, I’m trapped and cut off from him. And it’s my own damn fault. Why didn’t I stay with Harper? Sitting by his bedside, giving him sips of water and being a supportive boyfriend, something I have zero experience with but would love to learn. I could have done that and waited for him to heal instead of charging off on my own and making everything a million times worse.
The fluorescent light above me flickers once, twice, then dims. A chill sweeps through the laundry room, and the temperature plummets so suddenly that my breath forms a small cloud in front of my face. Goosebumps erupt across my skin, and the hair on my arms and the back of my neck stands straight up.
This isn’t Rowan. This is something else entirely. A presence. Even muzzled, I’m still a necromancer, and I can sense something. Unseen but there. Here.
“Hello?” I whisper. “Is someone there?”
The words fall flat, canceled by the unnatural silence Rowan’s little gadget created. But the feeling grows stronger, a certainty that I’m not alone.
I concentrate on the feeling, trying to make it stronger. Suddenly, something gives way. The space before me shimmers, particles of light gathering and coalescing into a vague form.
“What the—whoa.” Those words, I hear them. Did this visitor interfere with the sound dampening?
The form takes shape. The details begin to crystallize into someone I recognize, with the same eyes as mine, older than the last time we saw each other, but it’s him, it’s my brother.
“Jonathan?” My voice cracks on his name.
“Hey, little brother.” His voice sounds distant, as if coming through a long tunnel, but it’s his voice. “Been a while, huh?”
My brother stands before me, translucent but unmistakable. His kind eyes, the same dark hair, even the small scar above his eyebrow from when we were kids. Jonathan’s form glows with a soft blue light, his edges slightly blurred in this non-corporeal form. But his smile, it’s as warm and reassuring as ever.
“You’re... you’re really here? I’m not hallucinating?” I ask.
Jonathan laughs, the sound bringing back a flood of memories. “Not unless we’re having the same hallucination. And I’m pretty sure ghosts don’t hallucinate.”
I reach out a trembling hand, but it passes through his form. The contact sends a shiver through me. Of course. Ghosts mean no touching. But he’s still there. He doesn’t disappear. “You’re here.”
“Duh,” he says. “I’ve been with you ever since you first set foot in Brighton.”
“Wow.” I shake my head, hardly able to believe it. Who knew he was that close? “I was searching for what happened to you, and you were next to me the whole time?”
“The best I could do was show you my memories when you asked the spirit world for help.” It was him, not James. “Sorry it took me so long to manifest. Your powers aren’t as attuned to the spirit world.”
“Oh.” I stare down at my hands, feeling foolish. “Guess I still have a lot to learn about necromancy.”
