the ground. Christopher sat on a low, flat rock; his handsome profile was outlined against the dark stone, and for the ftrst time, I recognized him as the silhouette on Mrs. Bethany’s desk. “As you know, learning to use wraith powers takes some time — and far more time for most than it did for you. By the point when I could have appeared to my wife, she had learned to hate the wraiths as the natural enemy of the vampire. She had shown me, through her actions, that her hate was stronger than her love.”
I wanted to argue with him, but I remembered how hard it had been for me to appear to my parents. That fear of rejection was powerful. And as Lucas’s situation showed, not every person was strong enough to love despite the change.
Lucas, I thought. Of course Mrs. Bethany had been sympathetic to Lucas. Of course she reached out to him and understood him. She had been exacdywhere he was. But that didn’t make her generous and good. It just made her somebody who hated Black Cross a lot. He needed to realize that. and the sooner the better.
“I have to go,” I said. “I’ll come back, okay?”
I’d expected Christopher to protest, or throw some ice — storm tantrum to keep me here, but instead he kept gazing at the scorpion as it skittered upon the sand. “Go,” he said. “I am weary.”
Watching Mrs. Bethany’s death — even as a long — distant memory — had been as hard for him as it had been for me to see Lucas die. I put one hand on his shoulder. “Thank you for showing me.”
“Go,” he said, more quietly, and placed his face in his hands.
I concentrated on a place, on the records room, and traveled through the blue until it materialized around me. Patrice was up there alone, studying her German; she started when I appeared, but only for a second. “Hey, there you are. Lucas was getting worried.”
“I’m going to him right away,” I promised, going to the loose brick in the wall and retrieving my bracelet from behind it. When I’d put it around my wrist, I took completely solid form and felt an enormous wave of relief. “I just need a second to be … less ghostly. If that makes sense.”
“Whatever works,” Patrice said, not unkindly. “But he’s got a test this afternoon, remember? He’ll do better if he knows you’re around and okay.”
“I know it.” Though I hated to give up the bracelet so soon, I decided I’d better. “Okay, fine. Come with me?”
“Sure. I have to head down to class anyway.”
I trailed behind her as vapor the whole way down the stairs. “Could you keep out of my hair, please?” she muttered. “You’re awfully damp sometimes. I’ll frizz.”
“This isn’t easy. you know.”
“Neither is fixing my hair.”
I wanted to laugh, but just then — as we were reentering the classroom area — we heard the commotion. People shouting, shoes squeaking against the floor, the thud of a body against the waH — “A fight,” Patrice said.
“Lucas.” I knew it without having to be told.
Patrice ran, me above her, until we reached the fracas. Sure enough, Lucas and Samuel were on the floor, grappling with each other, their noses bloody.
“I said,” Lucas rasped, “leave her alone.”
“You want her for yourself, huh? Is that what you want?” Samuel’s sick grin made it clear that he Wasn’t talking about flirtation. Whatever human Samuel had been picking on — and Lucas had been defending — was a!J too appetizing as an evening snack. I realized who it must have been when Skye, amid the crowd, threw one of her books at Samuel, but he dodged it easily. “Hit me a little harder, and she’s yours, man. Take what you want.”
Lucas head — butted the guy, so hard that Samuel flopped back, stunned. Groggily, a hand to his forehead, Lucas said, “Mostly I just want you to shut up.”
The laughing crowd around us went very quiet, parting to allow Mrs. Bethany to sweep into the middle of this. She looked so different to me now that I had seen her younger, human, in love, alive. And yet she was still Mrs. Bethany, made of starched lace and long skirts and chilly authority. The fight scene got no more reaction from her than a raised eyebrow. “Mr. Ross. Mr. Younger. I take it You’ve settled this matter between yourselves?”
“Yeah, it’s settled.” Lucas got to his feet, somewhat unsteadily, and dabbed at his nose with his sleeve. Samuel continued to glare up at him, like he might tackle him anew whether the headmistress was watching or not.
“Mr. Younger?” Mrs. Bethany repeated. “I hope I won’t have to undertake any.. disciplinary action. I suspect you wouldn’t care for my methods.”
“Yeah,” Samuel said, which wasn’t exactly an answer, but he rose and slouched off without another word.
As everyone else went about their business, scattering from Mrs. Bethany like leaves in a strong gale, I wanted to talk to Lucas — but Skye was a little faster, reaching him before I had a chance to say a word. “Thanks for standing up for me.”
“No prob.”
She had a crooked sort of smile that somehow made her beauty more approachable. How come my funny smile only made me look silly? “You’re kind of like a one — man SWAT team, you know. Who would ‘ve thought anybody would need so much rescuing in high school?”
Skye was only making a joke, but it obviously struck a chord for Lucas. He took her arm by the elbow and said, “We’ ve gotta talk.”
“Our test is starting in five minutes — and don’t you need to clean up after the fight?”
“Forget cleaning up. Forget the test. This is important.”
I followed them back into the stairwell; Patrice cast a worried glance after us but didn’t try to join them. Good thing, too, because she probably would’ve freaked out. Knowing Lucas as I did, I knew what he was about to say — and I thought it was a good idea.
It was time to tell Skye the truth.
“What’s up?” Skye’s expression clouded as they stood together in the stairwell, light from the narrow arched window illuminating her dark hair. “Are you finally going to talk about what’s wrong with you?”
Lucas grew wary. “What do you mean?”
“You’re just so … angry,” she whispered, her voice gentle. “So angry about everything, all the time. I’m not saying you’re wrong to be angry, but Lucas — it’s burning you up inside. What is it? Can you tell me?”
If she’d tried to hint or trick it out of him, Lucas would never have spoken. But simple honesty always broke down his barriers. “My girlfriend, 171 Bianca. . she died last summer. I still love her. I always will.”
The truth, if not the whole truth, and it had the power to warm and thrill me all over again. What surprised me was the power that it had over Skye; her pale blue eyes instantly welled with tears. “I lost somebody this summer, too. My older brother.”
“Oh, jesus.” Lucas was clearly caught off guard. “Skye, I’m sorry.”
She squeezed his hand. “Believe me, I get it. I might hide the anger better than you do, but sometimes I just want to. .” Skye breathed out in frustration but managed to smile for him as she wiped away one tear. “Was Bianca just — amazing? I bet she was amazing.”
Lucas’s expression faltered. Talking about me in the past tense reminded him of my death and brought the pain back. “You have no idea.”
“If it helps any, I believe — no, I know — the dead aren’t truly gone.” She spoke with the deep assurance that could only have come from growing up in a haunted house. Skye knew about the undead, at least on that level. “They watch us. They’re close by. And I think they realize how much we love them, maybe more than they did when they were alive.”
As Skye finished saying this, I took the risk of brushing, gently, against Lucas’s hand. I saw him straighten, reassured of my presence and safety, and yet more emotional than before. “I believe that, too.”
“She’d want you to be happy,” Skye said. “Not angry all the time.”
Tm trying.” I knew Lucas was speaking to me as much as to Skye.
They just watched each other for a second, struggling for composure. After swallowing hard, Skye managed to say, “So, what did you want to tell me?”
“This school is dangerous, Skye. Everywhere around here is dangerous. You have to watch yourself.”
“Yeah, I kinda got that after the time those weird old gang members fired an arrow at me. What kind of gang
