"Why her?" hewhispered the question that clawed at his heart.
"She had the same birthdate as you. The journal said the trade needed to be as similar as possible.She had the same birth date as you, and she only lived one state over. UncleVernon and I grabbed her walking home and drove her here."
Benedict just stared—gawked,really. He'd said it so matter-of-factly.
It had happened, and it wasdone.
But it wasn't done.
"Mother gave you anotheryear after the ritual to show ability, and you did! I was saving you,Benny," he said, and the authority was back, the vague, almost-apologyover. "And I will save you. I'll find a way to fix this."
"Fix it?"
"Her ghost is latched onto you, her soul entwined with yours like the roots of two teeth knottedtogether. That's why you see her and we don't. She'd gone from the world exceptfor what's wrapped around you. You are her only tether."
"Where's her body?"Benedict asked absently, remembering that she had wanted to know.
"Cremated andscattered," Elysium said, brushing aside useless facts. He had alreadyexplained that her tether was Benedict, after all.
Benedict took a step back andthen another. He glanced past his brother's chair, to Theodore still standingon the other side of the killing table. He cried, shaking his head slowly inthat mad way people did when they just couldn't handle reality. They had allseen it in others—in people with ghosts in their homes or spirits trailing themthrough life.
Good,Benedict thought. They should feel what it was like to be on the other sideof it—on the out-of-control, terrified end of things.
"Benedict?" Elysiumlooked up from his thoughts.
His heel bumped the stairs."I hope you die," he hissed before turning his back on them both. Hetook the stairs two at a time and pushed the flat door open at the top. Hestumbled out into the hallway from a wall panel he had never known was a door.
He dragged two muggy breathsinto his lungs and then pivoted toward the foyer. He walked fast, Elysium stillcalling after him, starting up the stairs himself.
"Where were you?"Emmeline's voice rushed in panic, meeting him in the hallway near the frontdoor. "I couldn't find you anywhere."
She hadn't been down there.Maybe she couldn't? It was for the best. "We're leaving," he said. Hewould have taken her hand if he could.
Emmeline walked at his side,craning to look up at him. "How? Thecars are wrecked, aren't they?"
Benedict opened the door,holding it for her. "We'll walk. I don't care if we sleep in the woods,we're leaving. Now."
She nodded, and he followedher outside onto the porch. The storm had dwindled to a steady drizzle. If ithad been a monsoon, he still would have gone. They were going to try to get ridof Emmeline—it was the only way to save themselvesnow. Maybe if her spirit were gone, Mother's would settle.
He was down the steps and ontothe driveway when something larger than a raindrop hit the ground to his right.He glanced at it before actually stopping. A shoe. One of Emmeline's boots.
"I'm sorry,"Emmeline said, just over the rain. He looked at her, suddenly standing not farfrom the shoe. It was the sort of sorry a parent says to a child when somethinginevitable is about to happen—something that they wouldn't stop even if theycould—something they might even have decided to do. Like moving, or getting ashot, or having a bone set.
She wasn't looking at the booton the ground. Emmeline stared up at the house.
His stomach sank deep. Healready knew. He knew because she knew.
Still, Benedict twisted back tolook up at his childhood home. His sister slid off the ledge of her window. Itwouldn't have been far enough to kill her, if she hadn't tipped headfirsttoward the ground, arms hugging the other boot.
He barely had the time tobrace himself, to register what was happening, and then he watched, unblinking,as Lucy landed, body crumbling in on itself andbending in all the wrong ways. Her spine snapped; he heard it and he recognizedit because it wasn't the first time he had heard that sound this weekend.
Lucy had been a beautifulperson, but she had not made for a beautiful corpse.
He wrapped his anger aroundhimself like armor and turned his back on her body, walking down the driveuntil he could slip off it and into the woods. He didn'tworry about his red shirt tempting wolves today—he was pretty sure he had beenliving with them all along.
Chapter Seventeen
They hadn't made it far, maybetwenty minutes into the thick of wet trees before he felt a physical tug at hisheart.
Benedict and Emmeline bothstopped, hands flying to their chests to press over aching hearts. Theyexchanged glances. She felt it, too. Something was wrong. Cold fingers ran uphis spine, despite the sticky heat of the day.
"What is that?"Benedict whispered. He could almost hear something. A voice?A cry?
Emmeline pivoted back in thedirection of the house, staring though it was lost behind the tangled growth oftrees and thick bushes. They had been cutting a straight line for the road. Heknew this estate well enough to find his way. They would figure out what to doonce they got to the pavement.
"I told you we wouldn'tsurvive this place," she whispered.
"What do you mean?"
"They're killingus."
Us. Heloved the way it sounded, like they were one person. He supposed, if Elysiumwas right, they were in some sense one person—their souls knotted up. Herealized then what she was saying and turned to follow her gaze through thetrees. He remembered that possessed maid the other night. When Lucy had triedto cast out Mother's spirit, it had killed the maid. Would they try to castEmmeline out? Would he snap like that woman had? One vertebraat a time?
Emmeline took two steps closerto him, close enough that she could reach out and touch him if she weren'tspectral. "Do you want me to stop them?"
The question stunned him.Could she stop them? Could she simply whisk herself back to the house and… Do what? Agitate his mother's spirit into action? Wouldshe do it herself? Possess someone?
"Do you hate me?"Benedict asked instead
