Lightbringer

paramedics—including one or two she’d previously met while shadowing her mom at work—had already looked her over, so surely she must be imagining the pain. The fire blooming inside.

“I think,” she said out loud, “that this is what going crazy feels like.”

“Da, that is entirely possible,” a gentle voice said and Wendy nodded, squeezing the bottle so the plastic crackled under her fingertips and the water sloshed against the sides. “But I think it is unlikely.”

A figure knelt down beside her, hunkering so that his hands dangled between his knees. Unlike the others, his voice was kind but not sympathetic, very matter-of-fact, and he had a slight accent—not easily placed, unimportant just then, though years later Wendy realized it had been Russian.

He touched her wrist and his fingers were pleasantly cool. “Were you in the wreck?”

“Yeah,” she said. Her attention wavered a moment, and she looked at his hand on her wrist. There was something not quite right about his gentle fingers, or about that moment altogether. Wendy tried but she couldn’t wrap her calm, yet muddled, mind around the puzzle; couldn’t figure out just what was different about this boy.

She looked up finally, taking in his scarred face, his serene eyes. He was older than Wendy but not by much, only a teenager. When he smiled, quiet and amused, it slowly dawned on her that she could sort of see through him. Oh, that’s what’s weird. He’s a ghost.

Wendy was relieved to have pinpointed the oddity so quickly.

“I’m Winifred,” she said because, despite his translucence, it seemed the polite thing to do. “But everyone calls me Wendy.”

“Piotr,” he replied, smiling gravely, and offered his hand. Wendy took it and marveled at how, when she concentrated, his skin darkened and became solid, firmer in her grasp. Thin steam rose from between their hands, curling into nothing only moments later. At first Piotr didn’t seem to notice, but when he did, he frowned. “That is odd,” he said. “Doesn’t hurt, it’s just strange.”

Bluntly she asked, “Are you dead?”

“Do I look dead?” Unoffended, he released her hand and stood up, patting himself on the chest and arms. There were faint rustling sounds where he patted but, away from her touch, he’d faded back to his initial translucent state.

Wendy nodded and Piotr chuckled. “Well, I suppose I must be dead, then.”

She frowned. “But I’m not dead.” Tentatively Wendy rapped the window of the police car. It felt real. “Am I?”

“I can see you,” Piotr said as he looked around the scene of the accident. “And it seems that they can see you. So I don’t know, curly-haired girl.” He reached out and gently brushed away the copper-colored curl hanging in her eyes. “Maybe da, maybe net, but my best guess is net. Doesn’t look like you’re dead to me.”

Wendy couldn’t help but smile. “Your accent’s funny.”

Piotr pressed one hand flat against his chest in mock offense. “My accent is funny? What about yours, malen’kaya printsessa?”

“What?”

“Little princess,” he translated. “It is a very nice thing.”

“Are you gonna take me away?” Her voice trembled.

“What?” He seemed horrified at the suggestion. “Curly, no, no, net. I’d never do that.” Piotr knelt at her feet again and took her hands, gently rubbing her knuckles to soothe her. Again, where they touched, thin steam rose and drifted away. This time he didn’t seem to notice.

“It is…it is just my job, you understand? To make sure you aren’t lost, that’s all. Sometimes, after accidents like this, children are shocked and scared and they can become…confused. Sometimes they wander off and are never found. I stop that.”

“But only if I’d died?”

“Only if you’d died.” He squeezed her hands one last time and stepped back. “You’re a nice kid, Curly. Stay here and they’ll take you where you need to go.”

“Are you an angel?”

Piotr laughed and his fingers brushed his twisted scar. “Net, sorry to disappoint. I’m just a boy. But if I see one I’ll certainly let them know you’re on the lookout.”

“That’s okay.” Wendy hesitated and then, shyly, “Will I see you again?” She couldn’t help the waver in her voice, but so far Piotr was the only one who seemed to care more about her than about cleaning up the mess on the highway.

“Oh Curly, I hope not. Believe it or not, so do you.” He glanced around at the chaos and sighed. “It’s not strange that you’re seeing me now, da? I promise. It happens every now and then. The shock of an accident like this one, it can open up the mind. It’ll go away. Just tell yourself you dreamed it. And don’t whisper to adults about me.” He grimaced. “That never ends well.”

“They’d think I was nuts,” Wendy said. She understood about adults. “Or in shock.”

“Crazy as a cuckoo, Curly.” Piotr began walking away, fading rapidly into the mist, calling over his shoulder, “It’s our little secret.” He turned on his heel and waved when he reached the end of the clearing. “Dasvidania, malen’kaya printsessa!”

That had happened four years ago, and while Wendy never forgot Piotr’s face, she never saw him again. Until tonight.

A quiet trill from her bedside table drew Wendy away from her desk to snatch at her cell phone. She had a message.

IKssBoiz&Grls: U in yet, Crouching-Ninja-Hidden-Badass?

Eddie had waited up for her. Smirking, Wendy flopped on the bed to reply.

EgonSpengler: Nah. I’z in ur roomz, haunting ur butt.

IKssBoiz&Grls: Neat! What m I wearing?

EgonSpengler: Ur birfday suit. :P

IKssBoiz&Grls: Lucky guess. 4 real tho, how’d it go?

EgonSpengler: : - (

IKssBoiz&Grls: Aww. Nuthin?

IKssBoiz&Grls: Helllooo?

EgonSpengler: Sry. No sign of her. I had 2 reap 2 nosies tho & 2 others got away…

IKssBoiz&Grls: & what else?

EgonSpengler: Y u think there’s more?

IKssBoiz&Grls: Cuz I’ve known u 4evr.

IKssBoiz&Grls: Sloths msg faster than u right now.

IKssBoiz&Grls: Ur stalling.

EgonSpengler: Fine. K, it’s 2 weird. I saw teens.

IKssBoiz&Grls: & that’s weird, y?

EgonSpengler: Been doin this 4 yrs & like 2nd teen EVAR.

IKssBoiz&Grls: 4 real?

EgonSpengler: Yah. 2 of ’em. B & G. Far away tho.

IKssBoiz&Grls: Maybe they croaked 2gether. Romantic!

EgonSpengler: Right, cuz I’d wanna be 16 4evr. X-(

IKssBoiz&Grls: Live fast, die young, look hot 4 burial.

EgonSpengler: Sicko. Not funny.

IKssBoiz&Grls: U let ur job color ur outlook. B happy!

The upstairs floorboards creaked and Wendy heard a rough cough from down the hall. Sliding off her bed, she hurried to her desk and pulled her Algebra book toward her.

EgonSpengler: Dad’s up. C u l8r. xox

IKssBoiz&Grls: Pick u up @ 7. Bai!

Floorboards squeaked and there was a soft tap at her bedroom door. The door creaked slowly open. “Hey