“What?”
I’ll admit, her reaction wasn’t quite what I’d expected. I’d thought she’d be shocked, of course, but I expected more emotion. You’d think I’d told her he bleached his hair.
Was this lack of human caring a Halloween thing, too, or was it because of Noah? I understood that she wouldn’t be so worried about me—I could take care of myself, but her lack of concern over Kevin was strange. Now that she had a ghost boyfriend, Kevin was yesterday’s garbage? I couldn’t believe she could be that indifferent.
“A ghost showed up at the party last night and said it was there to kill Kevin.” Maybe that hadn’t been its exact words, but I figured when someone introduced themselves as Death, they were there for a fairly specific reason.
“Is he all right?” Now she looked concerned.
“Yeah. We fought it off.”
“Male or female?”
“Male.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Then he’s not an ‘it,’ is he?”
I stared at her. The air between us practically snapped with tension. I grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the kitchen and out of Nan’s earshot. I didn’t want our grandmother to hear us argue, and I really didn’t want either of us around her if things got weird again.
“Regardless of gender identification, the ghost was still a murderous douche bag sent to kill someone you considered a friend until very recently. And he intended to rape me as a bonus. You still insulted on his behalf?”
“Rape you? Oh, my God, Lark.” She threw her arms around me. “Of course I’m not. I’m so sorry!”
Tears filled my eyes. I hadn’t realized just how badly Woodstock had shaken me until then. There had been a male ghost in Bell Hill that liked to “mess” with the female patients, but we’d exorcised him. He hadn’t hurt me, but he’d come close, and there were others whom he had.
I resisted hugging Wren back. My feelings were hurt that she’d stayed away, but mostly I was pissed because I’d been scared without her there, even if I hadn’t known it at the time. We were a team, and I wasn’t so tough without her at my back.
And I was jealous of the dead boy who was so fascinating that she’d leave me hanging for him.
She must have felt how stiff I was, because she melded into me, the cheater. I had no choice but to feel how truly sorry she was, her guilt and anger. And I felt her love for me, which made everything better.
Finally, I put my arms around her. Wren always had substance to me, but at that moment, with her energy melding with mine, it felt like I was hugging myself. Weird. I could feel my own arms wrapped around me like she was me and I was her, but we were both still ourselves.
“Does this feel odd to you?” she asked.
I nodded, tears gone. “Much.”
She let me go, and I released her. We both took a step back, eying each other warily.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
She shrugged. “All Hallows’ Eve?”
“That’s becoming too convenient as an explanation. If it’s the time of year, why hasn’t it ever happened before?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because we’ve been using our abilities more often? They’re stronger?”
It was a better explanation than anything else—and less panic-inducing. “I wish we had someone to explain all this.”
“Emily wrote about Alys in her journal, but never why they were the way they were.”
“Yeah?” I knew this already. “We figured she didn’t know why they were like that, either.”
“But she talked like she did. And she wasn’t trying to explain it to anyone who might find and read the journal.”
“The journal was given to you in the Shadow Lands. For all we know, she could have burned the real-life copy. No need to explain what no one else was ever going to see.”
“Then why write it down?”
I sighed. This was one of those moments when my sister just didn’t get humanity. “Some people just like to write stuff down. Record their lives.”
“Like Twitter? People don’t explain what they mean on there, either.”
Close enough. “Sure.”
Wren grinned. Then her happiness faded. “Earlier, Nan said she saw someone she thought was me. I think it might have been Alys. It would be nice if she or Emily would come to us and explain everything.”
Wasn’t that the truth? “I’d like a manual, thanks.”
“A diagram even.”
“I’d settle for a Tweet.”
We smiled at each other. Something deep inside my chest gave a little—like easing up on an elastic band stretched too tight.
“I don’t like it when you’re mad at me,” Wren said, smile gone. “And I don’t like feeling like I’m letting you down if I try to have friends of my own.”