Twigs snap under my feet as I run through the dark trees. There’s a man standing in a patch of light just ahead. A branch scrapes my cheek. I grab my face but don’t stop. I need to get to him. He’s youngish, maybe late twenties, and he wears antiquated clothes. His hands fold behind his back the same way Elijah’s do.
He looks up when I enter the clearing and I follow his gaze. A crow sits on a large branch. And below it hangs a noose. I try to scream, but the sound is muffled.
I sit straight up as the rest of the scream leaves my mouth. My phone says it’s 7:27 a.m. I slip out of my bed, trying to shake the anxiety of my dream as I head into the hall.
It’s Wednesday, and there’s no school. I walk straight to Vivian’s room, hoping she’s awake and we can go to Boston. Her door is cracked open, and I push it. Her bed is made and I don’t hear her in the bathroom. I eye the medical bill on her dresser. Just a quick look.
Carefully, I lift the papers on top of it. It reads Explanation of Benefits—This is not a bill. I guess it’s a summary of Dad’s insurance coverage? There are columns of numbers. The amount-billed column is high—many thousands of dollars high. I scan the deductible and copayment columns. They’re all zeros. I turn to the next page, same thing.
I scan ahead to the bottom of the last page, where the totals are. It reads Patient responsibility (amount you paid or owe to provider): $0. I look at the date. It was sent less than two weeks ago. My heart stutters as I arrange the papers in their original positions.
What does this mean, exactly? Does this mean she lied this whole time about my dad’s medical bills being high? The thought terrifies me. Not because she lied, but because of the scale of the lie.
I make my way to the stairs and grip the banister. Unless I’m completely missing something, there was no reason to sell the New York apartment. Why do it? Money. But my dad makes a really good living. Vivian wants more money? That’s the only answer. So, what, is she waiting for my dad to die to get a huge inheritance? I feel ill. How could she do this?
“You look like you saw a ghost,” says Vivian from the bottom of the stairs.
I’m afraid to look at her. I don’t know what I’ll say. I can’t believe I almost opened up to her last night. “I had a nightmare.”
“Well, I just got off the phone with the hospital, and the doctor scheduled tests for your father throughout the afternoon. I think we should shoot for visiting this weekend.”
Now I look at her. I want to tell her she has no right to even talk about my dad.
She frowns. “I know you’re disappointed, but don’t be mad at me about it. I didn’t schedule those tests.”
I walk past her on the stairs and don’t say a word. I just head straight to the kitchen. Normally, I would scream. But I can’t. What if she really is waiting for my dad to die, to get his money? And then I yell at her and push her to do something crazy? She’s controlling his medical treatment. I need to think about this. I can’t let her know that I found that statement.
I mix my coffee, barely looking at it. I need to solve this curse. That’s my only avenue to helping Dad, my best chance at his waking up. It’s a long shot, but I have to believe in something.
“Is all well?” Elijah asks in his proper English–inspired accent.
“How does it work, being a spirit?” I ask, without answering his question. I sip my coffee.
“I am not sure what you are asking.”
“You said you followed me a lot when I first got here. What did you mean?”
“If I know where you are, and I focus on you in that space, I can see you. It is like having a window into your world, much like your television. If you know what channel to go to and what time to tune in, you can see your show.”
Well, that explains how he knew I was in danger at the party. “And if you don’t know where I am?”
“Then I must search for you. It can take quite a while.”
“And what about physical things? If you carry my coffee cup, for instance, would other people be able to see it?”
“That is more complex. Small things I can make disappear from view. Large things I cannot. It is akin to physical strength. Some things I am strong enough to lift, while others I cannot move. And blinking, the act of appearing and disappearing…blinking physical items from one space to another is even more difficult. It takes a lot of practice and concentration.”
“What about me? What if you lift me up?”
He looks amused. “You would appear to float. I do not have any ability to make the living disappear, only inanimate objects.”
“I don’t think I understand these rules.”
“You will.”
“Could you do me a favor?” I ask.
“I was wondering how long it would take for you to say that sentence. I have already retrieved the cape.”
“Oh! Thanks.” I’m embarrassed by how easy I am to read. “Actually, could you check on my dad? Vivian said they’re running tests on him today. I’m just not sure I believe her. And I had my heart set on visiting him.”
“Yes, they are running tests today.”
I slump down in a chair at the small breakfast table near the window. “How do you know? Did you focus on him or something?” If he knows where my dad is, does that mean he watched when I went to the hospital?
“No. I checked on him earlier.”
He checks on my dad? “How was he?”
“The hospital is taking good care of him.”
I relax a little. I desperately want to see him, but I’m glad he’s okay. And the thought of going to the hospital with Vivian is awful. I couldn’t stand watching her pretend she cares.
If I can’t go to the hospital…“We need to find out more about the curse and whatever that chaos was last night.”
“Figuring out last night may take a while. Everyone is still recovering.”
“Did all of the Descendants get the rash?”
“Yes, Susannah worst of all.”
“So I really was the only one who didn’t get it?”
“I am afraid so.”
I was hanging on to the hope that maybe I wasn’t. I sigh.
“I spent my night going through more of your grandmother’s research. I have not finished, however.”
“I’ll help you.” I get up and head for the kitchen door. I’m grateful he doesn’t sleep and can work on this stuff at night. I already feel the intense pressure that I’m not figuring this out fast enough and that at any moment my world could fall apart.
He doesn’t blink out, or whatever he calls it, this time. Instead, he walks by my side through the house and toward the library.
“Why am I the only one who sees you? Is it because you choose not to let other people know you’re around?” I keep my voice hushed. I like that idea.
He closes the library door behind us. “I have nothing to do with your seeing me.”
So much for that theory. “Then, why do I?”
“That is not something I know.”
I pull the hook in the fireplace and we step into the narrow hallway. “But you’re dead.”
“I am aware.”
“Shouldn’t you know these things?”
He almost laughs. “I know little more than when I was living. I just move around faster.”
The idea that death brings clarity is blown. “Have you met other people who could see you?”
“Yes, a few. They are rare.”
As I reach the top of the stairs, I notice Elijah has rearranged the piles of books into organized stacks. The dust’s gone. Spirits clean?
I’m not sure I wanna ask this next question, but my curiosity is running the show. “If I see you, then do I see other spirits?”
“Yes.”
Visiting graveyards just shot to the top of my never-again list. Was I walking around all this time seeing spirits and thinking they were living people? “So what’s in these piles of books?” Let’s just think about something more cheery, like curses, for instance.
“Most of this is research on the Trials and the Mathers. I left Salem before the Trials concluded; I needed to educate myself.”
“Why did you leave Salem?”
“No one kills themselves because they are happy where they are.”
Well, that makes perfect sense. I can only imagine his surprise when he died and found himself back in Salem for some indefinite period of time. I’d leave, too. And now he’s back here researching the Trials. I guess you can’t avoid your life, even in death.