Her gaze met mine and held it as she said the words. I still couldn't hear her, but I caught a few of the words on her lips. “Will Killian.” And then last, so slowly that there was no doubt what she was saying. “Mine.” Tears slipped down her face, and I knew that no matter what differences there were between us, this wasn't the way either of us wanted it to end.
She closed her eyes and repeated the words over and over again, just as I had earlier.
The air around her wavered, like when you open the door to a car that's been closed up for hours on a hot summer day. And then suddenly she was there… fully there.
I reached out for her hand at the same time she grabbed for mine. We moved toward each other, narrowly avoiding banging heads in our hurry. She wrapped her arms around me, and I buried my face against the side of her warm neck and in her hair. I could feel her trembling… or maybe it was me.
“It's okay. You're okay,” I murmured against her skin, but I wasn't sure which one of us I was talking to. Maybe both of us.
“You're right. I think he's crazy,” I heard one of the tennis court kids declare loudly in a tone that suggested a great debate had been resolved. And for once in my life, I did not care in the least.
Will would not stop looking at me.
And it wasn't the hey-you're-so-attractive kind of looking that I was used to, once upon a time. That would have beenfine. No, this was more like compulsively-checking-every-five-seconds-to-see-if-you're-still-here-and-not-slowly-disappearing-before-my-very-eyes kind of looking. Which was a little disconcerting.
“Are you sure you're okay?” he asked for the twelfth time in fifteen minutes, with another sidelong glance at me in the passenger seat. Once we'd managed to disentangle ourselves from our stance in the middle of the road, he'd led me back to the Dodge with a tight grip on my hand. His eyes were red. He'd been crying. So had I. Though neither of us was talking about that.
“Stop asking me that,” I said, trying to sound as snappish as I would have normally. But I couldn't blame him, for the staring or the asking. I kept checking my hands and feet to make sure they were actually there and not see-through. In the grand scheme of things, I hadn't been gone for all that long. I'd disappeared for hours before, after the emotional turmoil of learning my mom was tossing my stuff and my dad was having a new baby. But I'd never, never come back as faintly as I had this time.
I'd shouted and he couldn't hear me. I could see it in the panic on his face. I was going, going, gone — like falling off the side of cliff in the movies — until I managed to find a foothold and stop myself. But who knew how long it would last? That bit of rock or vine always gives out, doesn't it? The only question was when.
Even now I could feel the ebb and flow of energy in a way that I had not since right before the light showed up to take me away from Will's hospital room a few months ago.
I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the lighter, floatier, disconnected feeling that came with being outside of Lily's body. Like I might drift away at any second. I hated it. When Will let go of my hand to drive, it had taken every ounce of my considerable self-possession not to scoot closer (it wasn't like I needed a seat belt to keep me alive if we crashed) and grab hold of his arm or a fistful of his (awful) T-shirt, as if he were an anchor keeping me here. But when it came down to it, that wouldn't stop me from disappearing, and I couldn't stand the idea of slowly losing the feel of him until there was nothing.
So I kept my hands to myself and stayed on my side of the car.
“If you want, I can take you home… to my house… or the Turners',” he offered, with another cautious look at me. “And you can rest if you—”
“I'm dead, not sick,” I said sharply. “Remember?” Like either of us needed any greater reminder than what had just happened.
He flinched, actually hunching his shoulders like I'd hit him. But pretending otherwise, particularly now, wasn't going to do us any good. It was kind of pointless, wasn't it? I felt tears welling up again and forced myself to look away from him, out the side window.
“So that's it? With Erin, I mean?” I asked, my voice rougher than normal. I hoped he wouldn't notice or call me on the abrupt subject change. He'd filled me in on what I'd missed, though most of it I'd already pieced together on my own. “She made off with Lily's body.” That little bitch. “To go party, eat hamburgers, and drink beer or something?”
We were on our way to check at Krekel's now, stopping at every liquor store along the way (thanks, Mom, for that bit of knowledge) for a quick peek around the parking lot. She couldn't buy beer — not looking like Lily, who barely seemed as old as she was — but given what I knew of Erin, and what Will had told me, she probably had her fair share of experience with “hey, dude”-ing it from older guys.
Will nodded wearily.
I resisted the urge to shout I told you so. He'd come down so hard on me about how I was doing as “Lily,” and I'd tried to warn him that someone else might be worse. But now was not the time to interject that bit of retaliatory wisdom… even if it was the truth.
“You can say it,” he said, reading my thoughts. He looked away from the road to raise an eyebrow at me in challenge.
I shrugged. “It's not as much fun if you're expecting it.”
He cracked a smile. “I bet.”
“So… if we find her, then what?” I asked, forcing the words out past my fear of speaking them. They implied there was something beyond this moment, which I wasn't sure there would be for me, and I didn't want to tempt fate or God or the light or whoever had come up with this masterful plan. I squelched the surge of anger rising up from my gut, but with limited success. I was so tired of being tossed around like someone's doll… or a chess piece. First I'm stuck here, then I'm not, and then I'm sent back — maybe to save Lily — and then definitely not. What the hell? And now I was supposed to just sit here and, what, wait with Will for whatever energy I had left to disappear? That SUCKED. Beyond the telling of it, frankly.
Will rubbed his hand over his face. “I don't know.” He sounded tired, defeated. I realized he was out of his depth as well; not what he'd signed up for, either. Right about now, he probably wished he was out ghost-busting with Mina somewhere.
I reached out hesitantly and touched his shoulder. And this time, when he glanced over at me, his expression was different, with a warmth that shone through his weariness and worry. Unable to resist, I scooted closer to lean against him, and he put his arm around my shoulders, resting his cheek momentarily against the top of my head.
“We'll figure this out,” he said, sounding more certain. “If we can't find her, we'll go after her brother. He'll know what she's going to try, where she'll want to go.” He paused. “Crap. I just left him there. I told him I'd be right back,” he said, almost to himself.
“What?” I asked, confused.
“I was talking to Malachi when I figured out you might be in trouble.” He shook his head. “Doesn't matter. We'll work it out. We'll find Erin and evict her, and then…” His voice trailed off.
Yeah, the and-then part was the tricky bit.
“Will.” I sat up slowly and his arm slid off my shoulders. “We need to talk.”