I don’t have much time to consider this question though, because without any kind of polite warning, we’re smearing through the air, thinned out even more than our fragile forms already are. Every color blends together into this crazy beautiful mess I never want to look away from. It sparkles and shifts and then breaks apart all at once.
We halt in midair, settling onto the grass in front of a cluster of massive buildings. Against a background of stars on a dark sky, the silver-white walls glow, almost like they’re emitting their own light. Pine trees scrape the bricks as the wind shoves them back and forth. For a ghost academy, it’s seriously lacking spookiness.
Kaz waves at the buildings like a tour guide. “Welcome to Locklear Academy for The Life Deprived.”
A laugh busts out straight through my nose. It’s rude, and loud, and makes Kaz jump a little. But Rafe joins me, snickering into a fist. “I’m sorry,” I say, when I catch my breath. “Was not expecting that.”
Kaz grins. “No worries, that usually gets a good laugh from new students, just not quite so exuberantly. Ready for the grand tour?”
I tap my chin with a finger. “Well, my schedule’s pretty jam packed, but I think I can make time.”
Kaz floats to the front. “To the living world, Locklear looks like a group of abandoned cabins in the middle of the Colorado mountains. But with a little bit of magic, we have a perfect school for those of us not ready to pass on. Most everything inside is spelled in such a way that we can interact with our environment like we used to. But you’ll learn pretty fast how to touch objects not on our plane. There are two other schools like Locklear in the U.S., one for younger ghosts and one for older ones, but we keep all three campuses secret for safety purposes.”
“Does everyone who dies become a ghost?” Rafe asks. “Sounds like the schools would get pretty crowded.”
Kaz shakes his head. “Only those with unfinished business. This typically means people who die young, or are called to assist other ghosts in the afterlife. Like me.” His eyes drop a moment, but he drags them back up quickly and speaks fast as if trying to distract us from this reaction. “Ghost Guides are usually supes who can sense the spirits of the dead, otherwise known as mediums. We can feel when someone dies and needs our help. It’s a little hard to explain, but essentially, we receive visions of those we’re called to guide. Which is why I was able to find you and Rafe.”
“Like a bloodhound for the dead.” I snicker.
A real smile takes over Kaz’s face. “Not a bad comparison.” He chuckles. “Anyone who dies naturally will most likely just pass on, unless they get lost.”
Rafe’s eyes bug. “Is that a thing?”
“Happens more often than you’d think.”
We follow our Ghost Guide through the main door of the center building— as in, literally through it. On the other side, I sneeze, almost like we’d phased through a cloud of sawdust. Maybe I won’t make a habit of doing that. Inside, the spook factor is even lower. None of the shiny wood floors creek, no lights flicker, and soft classical music fills the lobby. No skips or scratches included.
“All of the teachers are adult ghosts whose bodies are protected on school grounds,” Kaz continues. “We have Healers — many of whom are trained counselors — teachers, coaches, and of course, a headmaster.”
As if on cue, a man in an immaculate suit glides through a door to our left, a smile on his freckled face, gray speckling his temples. “Kazuya, I see you’ve finally found our missing students.” He spreads his hands in a sort of welcoming gesture. “Mr. Warren and Ms. Martin, we are so glad to finally have you at Locklear. I’m Mr. Qureshi, the headmaster.”
I frown. “Missing?” This shouldn’t be my immediate greeting to someone in authority, but at the moment, the sheer number of questions in my head outweighs all my Southern politeness.
Oh. There’s a fact I remember about myself. Hopefully, some more memory nuggets will keep dropping as I go. Maybe it’s totally normal to lose your memory after dying. It is kind of jarring after all.
Mr. Qureshi steeples his hands under his chin. “Yes. We’ve actually been looking for you for some time. It’s not unheard of, but Kaz usually doesn’t have so much trouble finding the newly deceased.”
Rafe’s brow lifts. “How long have you been looking for us?”
Kaz rubs his jaw. “Well, you weren’t technically missing, Rafe. We knew you were still locked into the first part of your unfinished business since you were physically tied to Blakemore. That took priority, so we had to wait until that was done.”
Rafe’s sunny expression drops for a moment, but he throws it back on fast as Kaz continues. It’s so distracting that I almost miss what our Ghost Guide says next.
“Billie, though? We’ve been looking for you about a week. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t pin down your location until tonight.”
A half cough, half gasp comes out of my throat. “What? I’ve been dead a full week?”
Where the flip have I been for seven days? Unconscious somehow? I thought coming here might give me some answers, but my list of questions is steadily growing. The wails of that shadow from the field grind through my head again. Maybe it had answers. I try not to snort out loud. Right. Like a screaming, writhing
