Bitter Blood

“I’m so sorry we couldn’t help you,” Jenna whispered.

“I know.” He included Tyler in that, with a sideways glance, and the younger man flinched. He’d probably hoped to be ignored completely. As Ghost-Angel’s gaze moved past him to brush across Claire, she knew how Tyler felt. There was something really, truly terrifying in that empty gaze. “And you,” Angel said to Claire. “Not your fault. I know you blame yourself.”

Claire shivered. The air in the room was feeling icy cold, as Angel’s spirit drew in energy from the world around him. “I’m sorry we lost you.”

“Angel’s not lost,” Jenna said. “I’ve got him. He can help us.”

“I don’t—” Claire took in a deep breath, and it felt like breathing in winter. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Jenna. You know what Miranda said….”

“Miranda’s not here, and I’m certainly not abandoning our friend.”

“You should,” said a soft voice from the kitchen door, and Claire turned to see Miranda standing there with a mug in her hand that steamed fiercely in the chill. “You need to let him go. The longer he stays here, the hungrier he will be. And after a while he won’t be your friend anymore, Jenna. Just like your sister.”

“Don’t talk about her!”

“You have to let him go,” Miranda said. She walked to the table and set down her mug—the contents smelled like hot chocolate—and took a deep breath. “I can show you how to make him go on to where he needs to be.”

Jenna’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “How do I know you can do that?”

“Because I was there, and I came back. He’s confused and scared. I can take him there if you’ll let me. But I can only do it in the morning.” Miranda looked out the window. It was still dark, but there was a strong glow to the east. “And I can only do it if he wants to go with me. The more you make him want to be here, with you, the harder that is. You have to let go of his hand, right now.”

Jenna frowned, but she pulled her hand away from Angel’s, and he immediately began to lose color and substance, taking on the wispy, foggy character of a ghost just barely together. The change, along with the obvious pain and horror on Angel’s face, was so alarming that Jenna immediately tried to reach out again for him.

Miranda pulled her hand away. “No,” she said. “You can’t. Understand? You just can’t. He’s okay. What he feels…It isn’t pain like you know it. It’s confusion. I’ll take him once the sun comes up. It’ll be okay.”

“Mir?” Claire asked softly. “Is this—is this okay for you to do? Is it dangerous?”

The girl sighed and shrugged, just a little. “It’s hard,” she said. “But I’m not ready to go, so I can come back. Not everybody can. And not every time. You remember, don’t you? That feeling?”

Claire did remember, though she earnestly tried not to…. She’d died here, briefly, in the Glass House, and there had been this sensation, when the house’s protections had collapsed, that had given her the feeling of being sucked up somewhere, thrown into chaos. And maybe that would have turned out all right, but it was genuinely terrifying.

She nodded.

“I can do it,” Miranda said quietly. “I just don’t like it. That’s why they were all following me, before. Because they know I can help. I just…I just don’t want to.”

“Can you talk to them?” Claire asked.

“I can,” Jenna said, and Miranda nodded as well. “I guess we both can.”

“I was thinking…” She really hesitated on this, because it seemed like such a selfish use of what she’d just learned. “I was thinking maybe, if it was possible, you could ask them to find out something for me.”

“What?”

“About Myrnin,” she said. “Jenna, you had a vision of him, before. I think he’s being held somewhere against his will. I need to help him, but I need some idea where to look. Can you help me? Can they help me figure out where it is?” She was trying not to make the desperation in her voice sound obvious, but she probably failed hard in that. “Please?”

“It’s too dangerous for her,” Miranda said, and nodded toward Jenna. “She shouldn’t be trying to talk to any more of them. I will, though. As long as she stops making them excited, I should be able to get out and see them….” She looked toward the window suddenly. “The sun’s coming up. Angel and I have to go now. Sorry.”

Miranda walked to Angel and took his hand, and he seemed to give a sigh of deep relief that he wasn’t alone anymore. They were both fading. Tyler, who had been sitting in silent, dumb amazement the whole time, jumped back from the table, sending his chair flying; Jenna scrambled away, too, as Miranda threw her head back, closed her eyes, and her very real body seemed to just…dissolve, along with Angel’s.

Then they were both gone.

Claire gulped back the instinctive fear, and said, “Mir? You still around?” She got a cold pulse that moved through her, and she understood that to mean yes. “It’s okay. She’s still here; we just can’t see her right now. She’ll get Angel where he needs to go, I guess.”

Tyler looked about to cry. “Who are you people?”

But Jenna wasn’t looking like that at all. She seemed…focused. There was a light dawning in her eyes, and her shoulders went back and squared up. “This is why I was led here,” she said. “This is what I was meant to do. Meet this girl. And help her.”

“Yeah?” Tyler shot back. “What about me, Jenna? What am I supposed to do, exactly? How am I supposed to go back to having a normal life now? Jesus, this was just a job, a stupid job. I never was some true believer, not like you….”

But now he was, clearly. And he didn’t like it. He tugged at his messy hair as if he wanted to pull it all out, then flopped facedown on the table, utterly spent.

“I can never leave here, can I?” His muffled voice floated up, almost as ghostly as Angel’s had been. “Dammit. I had season tickets to the Red Sox. Good seats.”

Claire heard footsteps behind her, and Eve appeared, Doc Martens clunking heavily on the stairs. She paused, yawning. There was something weird about her hair—it was sticking up like a cockatoo’s crest. Probably not on purpose. She still had on an adorable pair of pajama pants, a giant White Stripes concert T-shirt, and she hadn’t put on her makeup yet. “What’d I miss?” she asked.

“You’d better sit down,” Claire said, “and I’d better make coffee.”

* * *

The police finally called after breakfast—breakfast meaning Pop-Tarts and arguments over whether it would be a good idea to knock Jenna and Tyler over the head and lock them in a room until they could decide what to do with them, which was Shane’s idea. Claire half expected the cops to want the two surviving After Death crew members, but no, they wanted Eve down at the station. Just Eve, which was good, because Claire had to head off to class; she was aching to talk to Miranda again, and see if her ghostly connections might be able to find Myrnin, but hanging around the house demanding answers wasn’t going to get her anywhere. And neither would blowing off classes.

“I have a jam session in five minutes at Common Grounds,” Michael said, shifting as he checked his watch. Eve was sitting at her dressing table, applying eyeliner.

“And?” she asked. Claire was fascinated, watching her; she had so much concentration and precision, it was eerie. Claire wasn’t good with eyeliner. It took skill.

“And I need to get moving,” he said. “Are you coming?”

“Sweetie, true beauty can’t be rushed.” Eve switched to mascara. “You go ahead. I’ll be fine.”

“Not on your own,” Michael said. “New rules. None of you walks alone. Not even Shane.”

“Gee, Overprotective Dad, you probably should have told him that before he left this morning.”

“Where was he going?”

“Job interview—he didn’t tell me what it was for, so maybe it was something embarrassing, like flower arranging or male stripping,” Eve said. “Relax; he’s fine. And anyway, I can drive. The Car of the Dead is finally ready to go again.” She meant her custom hearse, which had seen so many repairs and replacements, it was almost a brand-new vehicle again. “Besides, I’m seeing the cops, not hunting for vamps in dark alleys. I’ve got all the vampire I need.” She blew him a kiss.

Michael leaned over and kissed the top of her head—now that her hair was tamed again, not such a dangerous proposition—and said, “Be careful.”