Elegy (18 page)

Chapter
TWENTY-TWO

J
oshua couldn’t stop apologizing. Lying tangled with him in his bed that night, I constantly had to reassure him that I wasn’t angry. But even as I helped him with his tie and suit coat the next morning, he kept running his hands lightly over my burn and wincing.

“I hate this.” He motioned once again to the nasty pink welt on my wrist.

“I know you do. But you might stop regretting it, come Saturday night.”

“I don’t think I will,” he said, moving away from me so that he could slip on a pair of shiny, rarely worn dress shoes. “I hurt you. And I . . . I
meant
to.”

I gave him a small, close-lipped smile and checked my reflection in his dresser mirror; I’d done my own makeup this morning, in an attempt to look more put together for his family. Then I pulled on the elbow-length black gloves that Jillian had lent me—now, a necessary addition to my funeral outfit.

“Good,” I told him. “I’m glad you meant to use your new powers. So now you’ll know exactly what to do if one of those wraith minions attacks you.”

“What if an actual demon attacks me?”

Trying not to cringe, I swept some imaginary lint from the hem of my black dress. “As far as I know, the same rules apply to them. But please: stay out of their range, okay?”

“Not happening,” he said, coming over to wrap his arms around my waist. “I’m staying close to you all night.”

When I made a little
humph
sound, he grabbed my unburned hand and placed it on his chest.

“Just like I’m staying close to you for the next two days,” he said quietly.

Two days
, I thought.
Only two days
. All I could do was lay my head on his chest, next to my hand. After a while, I sighed, pressing myself backward to look up at him.

“Time to go downstairs for the family breakfast.”

“I know,” he said, sighing too.

He took my hand from his chest, gave the back of it a tender kiss, and then led me out of his room. Halfway down the staircase, he released my hand so that I could go invisible. I let the current run over my skin just as we hit the bottom of the stairs, wishing for a moment that I didn’t have to keep up the pretense that I hadn’t slept there the night before.

When we entered the kitchen, I was surprised to find that most of Joshua’s extended family—aunts, uncles, and cousins—had already packed into the space and were milling around with mugs of coffee and handfuls of Jeremiah’s breakfast pastries. I scanned the crowd and was relieved to see that Felix hadn’t joined them. I still hadn’t forgiven him for the previous night; I wasn’t even sure if I could.

Although the Mayhews’ kitchen was huge, I couldn’t find a spare corner where I could hide without touching anybody. Finally, I had to separate from Joshua and move toward the back hallway. I settled against the wall, waiting until someone gave the signal that it was time for everyone to leave for the funeral.

Luckily, my wait wasn’t entirely wasted. Farther into the kitchen but close enough to be within eavesdropping range, Annabel and Drew had their heads together in a heated debate.

“I still think we should be there,” Annabel hissed. “To make sure they don’t ask the wrong people.”

“And I still think that’s not going to work,” Drew countered. “That school has only got, like, a hundred people in it. You think they’re not going to notice if a bunch of people show up who don’t go to the school?”

I bristled. Obviously Annabel and Drew were talking about the Wilburton High prom, and whether or not we would pick the “wrong” people to bolster our ranks Saturday. The conversation reminded me, unpleasantly, of Ruth: this type of micromanagement was just her style. Still, Annabel had a point. She and her cohorts were far better trained as Seers than Joshua or Jillian; if anyone could recognize netherworld-opening potential in civilians, it was the young New Orleans Seers.

But that didn’t mean I had to like it.

Without letting myself go visible, I scooted closer to Annabel and whispered, “What, Annabel, you didn’t get enough of prom when you were actually
in
high school?”

I was petty enough to enjoy it when Annabel and Drew jumped a little. Both of them scanned the crowd of their relatives, searching. Finally, Annabel’s gaze landed on me. Or, at least, on a spot close to where I stood.

“Funny,” she said in a flat tone that told me she didn’t think my practical joke was funny at all.

Although she couldn’t see me, I smirked. “Almost as funny as a bunch of twentysomethings crashing a small-town prom because they don’t trust a ghost to recognize supernatural potential.”

“Whatever,” Annabel snapped. “What age should
you
be now? Forty?”

“Girls,” Drew hissed, using both his hands to do the universal, palms-down gesture of “chill out.” Annabel and I both blinked for a moment—I don’t think either of us realized that we’d crossed the boundaries of cattiness, until we blew right past them.

“Sorry, Annabel.” I unfolded my arms out of the defensive position that they’d taken across my chest. “I guess I was just pissed that you questioned Joshua and me.”

“It’s a good plan,” she offered, in a far lighter tone than earlier. “Getting newbies to help us—that’s kind of inspired. Especially since they’ll probably end up being targets anyway. But . . . I still think
we
should meet the possible recruits too. Just to be safe.”

“Okay,” I conceded. “I agree, then. We do like we discussed: lure the non-Seers out of prom for a few minutes, convince them to join us for the fight that night, and then go make our final preparations. Together.”

“What about Hayley?” Drew asked. Then, reluctantly, he added, “And Felix?”

His tone made me wonder whether the decision to threaten Joshua and me with a firearm hadn’t been unanimous after all.

“Do they really need to go, or can it just be you guys? I mean, Felix could just hang back, and prep for the battle. . . .”

Annabel shook her head and gave a dismissive wave. “Let’s deal with your Felix issues later, okay? What I’d really like to know is how Amelia plans to do it. I mean, to convince Joshua and Jillian’s friends that this threat is legit.”

I’d just opened my mouth to answer her, when Jeremiah started to call out above all the chatter.

“Everyone? Everyone, it’s ten thirty. The limos for the family are here.”

He spoke at a professional clip, trying to organize the chaos. But he was clearly trying to keep it together, too—I could see the heavy lines of grief and exhaustion around his eyes and mouth. I resolved to drop the demon talk for the next few hours and focus on what mattered most right now: Ruth Mayhew’s memorial.

As the Mayhew family began to file quietly out of the house, I found Joshua and followed him to the limousine. As I approached the long, black car, however, I could see that too many people were piling inside. After a second’s hesitation, I stopped and watched the limo fill up and then drive off—probably with Joshua thinking that I sat somewhere inside with him. Finally, the last car pulled out of the driveway. I waited a few more minutes, just to be safe, and then I allowed myself to go visible with a heavy sigh.

Realizing that I had no time to waste, I began to trudge down the Mayhews’ driveway. But by the time I’d reached the main road, which would eventually lead me to the highway on which the Mayhews’ cemetery was located, I seriously regretted my choice of shoes. Only a few steps on the asphalt of the main road, and I’d decided to go barefoot like I used to.

I’d just paused to slip off my heels when an unfamiliar car with rental plates pulled over in front of me on the shoulder of the road. With my toes still caught in the top of my left shoe, I stumbled backward slightly. I didn’t know why, but I suddenly had the instinct to run. When the door opened, however, I relaxed a bit: I recognized the man stepping out of the car, although I wasn’t particularly happy to see him.

“Hello, Felix,” I said drily, slipping my left foot back into its shoe. “Stopping by to wing me with your forty-five?”

Felix paused halfway between me and the bumper of his car and slipped his hands into the pockets of his funeral blazer. After a beat, he cleared his throat awkwardly.

“It wasn’t technically
my
forty-five.”

“Oh, well, that makes everything better.”

Felix shook his head, cringing at my tone. “Amelia, I really am sorry about that. I didn’t want to do it, but . . . but . . .”

“But what?” I snapped. “But you thought threatening us with a machete would have been less effective than a semiautomatic?”

Felix’s contrite frown transformed abruptly into a scowl. He jerked his hands from his pockets and threw them into the air angrily.

“God, Amelia, you’re a freaking hypocrite, you know that?”

“I’m . . . I’m a
what
?”

At first, I was too stunned to get angry. That moment didn’t last long, though—only a few more seconds passed before I was fuming. If I could have touched Felix, I would have stormed over and smacked him right in the face.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Felix, but
I’ve
never shot at the person you loved, have I?”

“No, you haven’t,” he said, suddenly calmer. “But you would do just about anything to keep Joshua out of hell, right?”

That wasn’t the response I’d expected.

“Right . . . ?” I answered, unsure where he was taking this.

“So would you kill for him?” Felix asked, leaning forward intently. “Would you
threaten
to kill for him?”

When I didn’t answer right away, Felix pressed me further.

“What about for your mother?” he asked. “Or for your
sister
, if you had one? Would you do anything—and I mean anything—to get them out of hell? Including pointing a gun at the one person who might hold the key to their escape?”

Everything clicked into place in my mind, and I slumped out of my defensive stance.

“Felix,” I breathed, moving toward him slightly. “I know you miss Gaby. And I’m trying—I’m really trying—to figure out a way to save her. But . . . a gun?”

“I know.” He sighed and shook his head. “It was Annabel’s idea. But you have to admit: it did get you to use your powers.”

“You couldn’t have tried a less lethal way?”

Felix lifted one shoulder in a shrug—on him, the movement looked so much like the shrugs Gaby gave me, when she wanted to pretend she didn’t care.

“You’re right,” he said softly. “I shouldn’t have said yes. And I’m sorry.”

Here, in his remorse, was my opportunity to secure another part of my slowly forming plan for Saturday night. But did I dare take it? I considered him for a moment longer, before making up my mind.

“Where did the gun come from, anyway?” I asked him, keeping my tone blasé.

He gave a bitter little laugh. “I found it stashed in a desk drawer in the actress’s apartment in New Orleans, before I left. It’s unregistered, as far as I can tell, so I doubt she’s going to come looking for it. If and when she ever gets out of rehab, that is.”

That’s good
, I thought.
That’s
very
good.

I flashed Felix my sweetest smile. “Can I see it?”

He hesitated, giving me a wary look. Then he reached into his coat and pulled the gun from his belt. I took it from him carefully, marveling at how heavy it really was. I could feel the coldness of the metal through my gloves. Then I glanced back up at him as innocently as I could and made him an offer.

“Let me keep it for you, in my purse. Just until Sunday morning. You know, in case I get attacked between now and then.”

I didn’t look up from the gun, but I could sense Felix’s reluctance. Finally, he said, “Okay. Just be careful with it, all right? And don’t decide to shoot me, either.”

“Of course,” I said, slipping the handgun into my purse. “
I
would never shoot at
you
, Felix. And I promise: I won’t use this unless I have to, to save someone’s life.”

When I made that promise, he relaxed visibly; he even smiled. After a beat, he took a step back and gestured to the car.