Arise (38 page)

Inside, the bathroom smelled pleasantly of soap and lavender. I took a deep breath of the scent and felt my muscles relax for the first time in hours. Then I pushed back the shower curtain and groaned. Staring blankly at the bath fixtures, I couldn’t remember which was hot or cold, and they weren’t labeled. I gave up and began spinning the knobs ineptly until the hottest combination of water came pouring out of the faucet. Then I switched it to the shower spout and stepped back as steam began to fill the bathroom.

For a while I just stood in the steam, letting it envelop me. In the small mirror over the sink, I watched as my reflection—dirty face, matted hair, wide green eyes—slowly vanished. Once the wet fog had completely erased my image, I undressed, easing out of the tall boots (still in decent shape, thank goodness) and the skinny-jeans. I took off the white tank last, laying it gently on top of the pile of discarded clothes. Staring down at its careful beading, its delicate fabric, I felt something clench inside me; and I looked away quickly, back to the steaming shower.

I drew aside the curtain and stepped into the tub, where scalding hot water waited. When I moved under the spray, the heat stung my skin and began to redden it almost immediately. Even so, I luxuriated in the water, running my hands across my face and through my hair. Washing away that day, that week.

That decade.

In the roar of the shower, I almost couldn’t hear myself think. If I concentrated hard enough on the pressure of the water—the burn of it—I could nearly block out those agonizing words of fault and grief that my brain had started to whisper to me. I kept my eyes shut tight in the hope that sheer force and blistering hot water could protect me from my own thoughts.

Some time later I pulled back the curtain and prepared to step out of the tub. But even through the fog, I caught the tiniest glimpse of that white tank, cast off and dirty. The thing that had clenched inside me earlier returned in full force, writhing and twisting until I dropped to the floor of the tub, breathless.

There I sat, for God knows how much longer, sobbing uncontrollably in the hot water.

Mourning Gabrielle Callioux.

Mourning my friend.

Chapter

THIRTY-TWO

L
ong after the water turned cold and the steam evaporated, I wrapped myself in one of the spare robes and stepped out of the bathroom, carrying a pile of dirty clothes in one hand and lifting up my overnight bag with the other. I shifted everything to one arm so that I could open a nearby door, where the stairwell to Joshua’s attic bedroom waited.

I’d expected to find the room empty. But after I climbed the stairs and entered the attic, I found Joshua lying on the bed, reading a thick paperback book in the dim glow of the bedside lamp. His eyes caught mine, and he set the book aside.

“Feel better?”

“Sort of,” I said, my voice thick from all the crying.

Judging by the glint of worry in his eyes, Joshua didn’t miss the significance of my tone. But instead of pressing the issue, he gave me an intentionally casual smile.

“You know,” he mused, “it’s still weird to see you wear anything but your dress.”

I glanced down at the robe and then forced a weak smile. “Actually, the dress sort of … disintegrated. I’m sure there are some pieces left, if you want me to hunt them down for you.”

Still smiling, Joshua pushed himself up and gestured for me to join him. After dropping my bag and clothes in the corner, I gathered my robe into one hand and sat on the edge of the bed next to his feet.

Once I’d settled, Joshua’s expression grew serious again. For a second he just studied me, taking in my puffy, red-ringed eyes and my drawn face. Then he turned back to the bedside table and grabbed something I hadn’t noticed before: a plate heaped high with food.

It was love at first sight: tomatoes and peppers and onions, swimming in a thick sauce around crawfish and rice. The rich, tangy scent of the food wafted toward me, and my hand moved of its own accord, reaching automatically for the plate. Joshua laughed at my enthusiasm and hurried to pass me the plate and a spoon.

“My dad’s étouffée, left over from last night. I thought you might need it.”

Lifting a spoonful of the mixture to my mouth, I tried not to moan. “I don’t think I’ve ever needed
anything
so badly.”

Joshua laughed again and settled against the pillows, watching as I attempted to eat like a human instead of gobble directly from the plate.

Once I’d devoured more than half the étouffée, he reached back to his night table for one last item and placed it next to me on the bed. I set aside my plate and took his new offering eagerly, unwrapping the layers of paper towel that surrounded it. When I saw what the towel held, however, I dropped it onto my lap.

There, in the middle of the paper, lay a single powder-coated beignet.

I must have stared down at it for too long, because eventually Joshua cleared his throat.

“Not hungry anymore?” he asked.

My head jerked upward. I thought I’d finished all my crying in the shower, by myself. But to my humiliation, my eyes welled with tears the minute they met Joshua’s.

Immediately, he looked stricken. “Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured gently.

He shifted forward, reaching out to comfort me; but I shied away from his touch. Seeing this reaction, Joshua frowned.

“You don’t want me to touch you anymore, do you?”

“No. Yes. But that’s not the point. It’s just—”

“Are you saying we shouldn’t, because of everything that happened?” he interrupted.

“No,” I repeated, feeling frustrated by my sudden inability to express myself. “That’s not it at all. It’s just that … I can’t … you can’t …”

“I
can’t
touch you anymore?” he finished.

A tear trailed down my cheek, and I wiped it away with the back of my hand. “Bingo,” I said miserably. “You can’t. No living person can. That’s part of what I’ve become. I can do all kinds of things now: eat, sleep, change clothes. I can even touch stuff. Just not living people. It’s like I’ve regressed or something.”

Both of Joshua’s eyebrows rose. “But what about the fire?” he asked. “The sparks, when we touch?”

“No sparks. Not anymore.”

Joshua sank down onto the bed. He raked one hand through his hair and then dropped it to the bedspread, where he traced absent circles with one finger.

After a few quiet seconds of tracing, he looked back up at me and asked, “That’s what happened to you at the St. Louis Number One, isn’t it? That’s why you broke up with me?”

I grimaced. “Yes and no. At the St. Louis, Gaby transformed me without my permission. But I didn’t find that out until after I … until after we …”

I trailed off, unsure of how to finish that statement. When Joshua realized what I meant, hurt flooded his eyes. “So if you didn’t know you were changing, then why
did
you break up with me, Amelia?”

I hung my head, ashamed. “I wanted to keep you safe from what ended up happening anyway.”

“What does that mean, Amelia?”

“It means I failed. I wanted to keep you and Jillian and everyone else I care about safe from the demons. I thought if I stayed away from
you
, then
you’d
stay off the demons’ radar when they eventually came for me.”

Joshua stirred uneasily beside me. “Why did you think they were coming for you in the first place? I thought they’d left you alone since Eli disappeared.”

I sighed heavily and began rubbing my eyelids, mostly to avoid looking up at him. “I didn’t want to tell you at the time because I thought it would just be too risky. But Eli reappeared on the night of the bonfire party. He warned me that the demons had decided to hunt me and that they were willing to hurt my loved ones, if they had to. I wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth until I saw some demons at that club in the Quarter. I’d hoped that Gaby might be able to help me fight them, but after the ritual at the St. Louis, I realized that I was just delaying the inevitable and putting you in more danger in the process. So I … I ended it. And then screwed it all up tonight.”

I was shocked when Joshua responded with a loud laugh. My eyes shot open, and I met his gaze, which was far softer than I’d expected it to be after a confession like that. Smiling again, he shifted closer to me on the bed.

“Amelia Elizabeth Ashley, I say this with affection, but you’re totally crazy.”

I laughed too, although I sounded tenser than Joshua. “Of course I’m crazy. But I’d love to hear
your
reason why.”

Joshua smirked. “You broke up with me because you thought our relationship would put me at risk? Amelia, I’m a ghost-seeing descendant of exorcists who happens to be in love with—what?—the undead? My life blew past normal and safe a
long
time ago.”

If I wasn’t so incredibly flustered, I might have laughed. But instead, I couldn’t focus on anything but one little four-letter word. Through all the fear and guilt and heartache, a real smile spread across my face.

“The proper term is Risen, actually—not undead. But are you? I mean, are you still …?”

Joshua’s own smile lifted higher. “Are you asking if I’m still in love with you? Despite the fact that you broke up with me because you’re being chased by demons and rogue ghosts and evil Seers?”

“Yeah,” I choked, taken aback by his frankness. “I guess I am.”

Joshua unexpectedly ducked his head, once more scrutinizing the bedspread. For far too long he didn’t say anything, and my pulse began to race uncomfortably. It outright stuttered when he looked up at me again.

“Amelia,” he said roughly, “I’m not going to tell you I love you again. Not without something in return.”

Suddenly, the entire world was a heart-stopping midnight blue. Before I even had time to think them, I whispered the four words that I’d been dying to say for the last three months:

“I love you, Joshua.”

The moment those words left my mouth, I felt a huge whoosh of relief. One that made me wonder why I hadn’t said that a long time ago. Joshua’s answering grin told me that he shared my thoughts.

“Now, was that so hard?” he asked.

I grinned back, so widely my cheeks ached. Not that I cared right now. “Yes,” I teased him. “It was brutal. That’s why I waited this long to say it.”

With a low, sexy laugh, Joshua leaned so close I could smell his cologne; could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. Every single one of my nerve endings began to hum happily.

“You know,” he whispered, “this would be the perfect moment to kiss you.”

“If only you could.”

Joshua’s expression shifted from seductive to fervent. “Oh, don’t worry: I’ll find a way. I swear.”

I rolled my eyes playfully and leaned back, putting some space between us before I started to hyperventilate from our closeness.

“Just because I love you,” I cautioned, “doesn’t mean I’m ready to join in another one of your optimistic schemes. Not quite yet.”

He tilted his head to one side. “How about this: the only scheme I want us to join in is the one where we both try to stay away from the demons. Especially since we’re
all
on their radar now.”

I cringed. “Like I said: because I failed to protect you guys.”

“You didn’t fail at anything,” he said. “Even if I don’t agree with it, you tried to do what you thought was right. It just so happens that the Mayhews and their friends tend to mess with your plans on a semiregular basis.”

“And make things better for me,” I amended. “Or at least
you
do. I guess since I’ve officially failed, I can admit that, right?”

“Right.” He laughed. “But you do realize you’re dodging the real issue? You still haven’t told me whether you’ll agree to let me fight the demons with you.”

I shrugged and gave him a skeptical, sidelong glance. “We’ll see. Maybe.”

Joshua looked like he wanted to argue. But after a moment’s consideration, he thought better of it. Without speaking, he reached behind him and grabbed the discarded book from the nightstand. He dropped it beside me, picked up my plate, and eased off the bed.