In the spirit of afterlife partying, I grab a red solo cup and guzzle whatever the contents are. Warmth billows through me. Someone slides another drink into my hand and I knock it back. Two more numb every aspect of my being and snap me straight into Rafe’s chest. It’s strong. A match for my own strength, one my mind has no memory of, but my body does. I slide my hands up Rafe’s shoulders.
“Hey.”
He chuckles and slips his arms around my waist. “You look pretty amazing in that dress, Martin.”
I rest my head against his chest. “Yeah?”
“You look pretty great no matter what.” His cool breath coasts across my forehead.
“You’re not so bad yourself in that...flannel.” I tilt my head up.
“It’s my signature look. If it works, why change it?” Rafe grins so that stupid dimple overtakes my whole horizon.
“Nothing short of perfect, really.”
Rafe swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and though he doesn’t let me go he does look down at his feet. “Far short of perfect.” He meets my eyes, and I swear the pain there physically cuts me.
“Rafe…” I trail, cupping his face with my hands, and tracing those violent lines beneath his eyes with my thumbs. Somehow, I know for an absolute fact that these are part of the guilt I can almost feel radiating off of him. He flinches a little at my touch but doesn’t move away. “What happened?”
“I’m not ready to talk about it.” His voice is rough and thin.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
Rafe shakes his head and pulls me a little closer. “Don’t be sorry. And I promise I’ll tell you, eventually.” He screws on a smile I can tell takes a lot of effort. “Maybe when you have your own death story to share. Fair is fair, right?”
I chuckle. “Excellent point, Mr. Warren.” With a little sigh, I lean into him again, sliding my arms around his neck and breathing in his comforting scent. “Of all the things I need to figure out about my life, that honestly seems like the least terrifying. What if…”
Rafe lets me hang on to the silence for a few moments before asking, “What if what?”
“What if I was a horrible person?” Fear cracks my voice in half. It’s a thought that’s niggled at the back of my mind for the last few days.
Rafe snorts. “I can’t even imagine that being true, but if it was, you’d be in good company.” He says the last part so quietly I can barely hear it and he tenses against me. “The things I did before I died aren’t the best.”
I cling to him a little tighter. As he’d said of me, I can’t even entertain the idea that he could have been a horrible person before he died. Horrible people aren’t wracked with guilt the way he so clearly is. They either don’t care or make excuses, blaming other people for their wrong doing. This has to be the reason he’s still trapped on this side. He needs to be able to forgive himself.
We’re hovering a few inches above the ground, and I don’t ever want to leave this spot. For the first time since I died, I feel stable. As ghosts we feel a constant tug, like something is trying to suck us away. But here, in Rafe’s arms, I feel anchored and steady. Nothing can pull me away as long as I hang on to him.
Someone lets out a disgusted scoff from behind me, and I glance over my shoulder. I have to fight off a grimace when I see Dimple Piercing — Melissa — standing a few feet away with her arms crossed. The sound she’d made matches her sour expression. Our best strategy would be to ignore her and the group of girls behind her, to float away from whatever accusations they’re about to level at us.
Instead, I make the rookie mistake of engaging her. “Can I help you?”
“You have the nerve to dance with him after that stunt you pulled in Corporeal Contact?” Melissa says.
“Uh, he’s right here and can speak for himself,” Rafe says. “I want to dance with Billie, and I wanted to be in my fox form in that class. So, there’s no problem. I don’t have some deep-seated self-loathing based on my powers. But thanks for your concern?”
Melissa gives him a sad look I’m sure she doesn’t mean to be pitying. “Sweetie, you don’t have to defend her. I know it must be hard with the way supes have treated lower shifters for so long.” She places a hand on his shoulder.
I arch a brow at her. “Lower shifters? Well that’s not condescending at all.”
Melissa glares at me. “I’m not saying they are lower shifters, I’m just using the phraseology others use to make a point.”
It’s all I can do not to laugh. We really just need to walk away, but I guess if I want to avoid more verbal attacks and accusations of treating Rafe badly, I need to be careful in how I suggest retreat. “Rafe, do you-”
A scream slices through the room. Rafe and I both jump, spinning away from Melissa and her posse to find the source. One of the girls near Haya crumples to her knees. White blue flames jump over her skin as she falls to the floor writhing. Everyone near her jumps backward, all eyes wide with horror. If I still had a heartbeat, I’m positive it would be racing.
Haya clasps both hands over her mouth, her typically studious expression crumbling in sheer terror. Still holding onto Rafe with one hand,
