Her hand on his leg. His hand on hers. Their lips pressed together.
Was I angry? Oh, yes. Angry, and jealous.
But the longer I stared at the river, the more quickly I realized my jealousy didn’t resemble that of a normal living girl. Not by a long shot.
After all, a living girl wouldn’t be jealous that her competitor could actually feel what she touched. A living girl wouldn’t be jealous that her competitor didn’t disappear when she kissed a boy. And a living girl wouldn’t worry that her boyfriend might—in fact, probably would have to—choose someone else because at least someone else could grow with him. Change with him.
A millennium could pass and I wouldn’t change with Joshua. I would never change, never again.
I felt my breath speed up, but I couldn’t seem to slow it. I couldn’t stop thinking these thoughts. Because, however much I disliked her, Kaylen was a normal, living girl. In fact, she probably wasn’t even that annoying once you got to know her. It’s not like she was intentionally going after someone else’s boyfriend, either. As far as she knew, Joshua was very available.
And however much Joshua might deny Kaylen now, she or someone like her would eventually break through his defenses. How could she not? Girls like Kaylen could touch him for longer than ten minutes, attend school with him, meet his family, laugh with his friends….
Girls like me couldn’t do any of those things. Girls like me just screwed things up for the living people we loved. One look at Joshua’s current social life proved it.
The evidence was everywhere: the way Joshua looked at me before telling someone “Sorry, I can’t talk right now”; the frequency with which he walked away from his friends, like he was afraid that even a minute spent around them might reveal my presence.
Joshua had intentionally limited our exposure to the living world. To keep himself from looking like he was crazy in case anyone caught him holding hands with thin air. To keep me safe from any unfamiliar Seers.
By turning away from the living people he cared about, Joshua thought he could protect us. And in the process he’d hurt himself.
I guess I should have felt grateful he hadn’t taken this mission so far as to start avoiding his family too. But would that day come? Would Joshua discover in five, ten years that he could no longer explain to his parents why they couldn’t meet his girlfriend? Why he couldn’t marry her and start a family?
Such questions didn’t matter, not today. I knew that’s what Joshua would say if he could have heard my thoughts.
But those questions would become reality soon enough. When you had a ghost for a girlfriend, you eventually had to choose between the living and the dead. Between a normal life and a haunted one.
He’d already started to make this choice with his friends. And I suspected he’d keep making that choice—with his family and his future—if I let him.
Which I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
In the end I would have to do something to make Joshua stop choosing me.
I suddenly felt the ache in my chest pull into itself, smothering-tight. I had to stop thinking about this. I had to focus on something else, fast. Trying to distract myself, I looked up at my surroundings for the first time since I materialized here. Then I blinked back in surprise.
High Bridge stood directly in front of me, so close I could almost touch it.
Without meaning to, I must have climbed up the steep embankment and stopped at the edge of High Bridge Road. Now my toes rested on the asphalt while my heels stayed on the grass, as if they knew well enough to keep me away from this place.
Up close, any sane person would see the bridge for what it was: dangerous. I had every reason to fear it now as much as I did in the past.
But suddenly I didn’t. I didn’t fear this place at all.
As I continued to stare, I felt my eyes narrow. My feet began to pull themselves completely off the shoulder and onto the road. Slowly, mechanically, my legs carried me forward until I was walking across the bridge. Just taking a calm little stroll.
Inside, however, I was anything but calm. With each step I took my anger grew. Anger at Kaylen, at Eli, even at Joshua. Anger at my whole stupid existence. But especially anger at High Bridge. It had ruined my life, and the lives of countless others.
“You know what?” I said aloud, addressing the bridge, a hysterical smile twitching at one corner of my mouth. “You really piss me off.”
“Still?”
The word drifted toward me no louder than a breath. Yet the moment I heard it, I nearly jumped out of my skin. I spun around frantically, searching for the speaker; but as far as I could see, I was the only one there.
Except …
I squinted, peering at the path I’d just walked. Something about the look of a particular spot seemed … off. As I watched, the air began to shimmer and shift until, floating above what had been an empty road only seconds before, something took shape. At first it hovered like a mist: pale and not quite translucent. But soon it solidified, and I could make out the contours of a human figure.
A man, sitting hunched, close to the railed edge of the bridge. His arms lay across his knees, and his hands and head hung limp, lifeless. His long, curly hair had fallen forward, hiding his face.
But I didn’t have to see it. I didn’t even need him to whisper another word. Because I knew exactly who had just appeared less than four feet away from me.
“Eli,” I gasped, taking a jerky step backward.
“Wait,” he said in that same choked whisper. “Wait.”
I didn’t want to wait; I wanted to get out of here. But I stood transfixed as Eli turned his head toward me and, with horrific slowness, rolled his eyes up to meet mine.
A small, strangled noise escaped my lips.
The mist blurred the rest of his features, but Eli’s eyes blazed an electric blue, like centers of impossibly hot flames. Bright, and ghastly.
I felt a surge of phantom adrenaline telling me to run. But I couldn’t look away.
“Eli?” I repeated. “Is … is that you?”
When he nodded, the gesture looked labored. Painful.
My mind began to race. Eli should still be somewhere in the darkness beyond the netherworld, imprisoned there by the demons he once called masters. If he was here now, in the living world with me, then that meant his masters were …
My head swiveled frantically, searching the bridge around us.
“Where are they?” I gasped. “Tell me.”
“No.” From the corner of my eye, I saw him shake his head. “No, Amelia, not here.”
“Tell me,” I demanded, my voice jumping an octave. “Tell me now, Eli.”
“Not
