The Lingering Grace (29 page)

“I’m okay. Will you tell him to text me?”

“Is his phone not on?”

“No, I think he forgot to charge it.”

There was a pause. Then Nora said, “I’ll tell him. But Alice, I’m worried about you. Are you
sure
you don’t need anything?”

“There’s nothing you can do for me. But thanks, Mrs. Waters. I’ll be okay. Bye.”

And before Nora could respond, Alice hung up the phone.

“Satisfied?” Eva asked, shaking her head.

Alice stowed her phone in her pocket. Her palms were clammy, her heart racing, but her mind, for the moment, was clear.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

Alice nearly threw up when Eva stopped in front of a tombstone just two rows away from her aunt’s. She could see the patch of grass where Tony had been lying in her vision, streams of blood coming from his nose, his eyes. It was all she could do not to glance over her shoulder every two seconds to make sure a body hadn’t spontaneously appeared on the ground.

If Eva could feel Alice’s agitation, she was doing a good job of hiding it. She was the picture of focus as she unpacked the shoebox and arranged everything in a line on the ground. The only time her concentration broke was when she glanced up at her sister’s headstone. For a few long seconds, she stared at it blankly with unblinking eyes. Then she looked down and got back to business.

Alice held her phone tightly, willing it to buzz. She didn’t need to check again to know that Tony hadn’t called her, but she checked anyway.

“You’re going to have to turn that off before we start,” Eva said.

“I can’t.”

Eva paused, looking up from her paper. “Alice, you heard what I said. What if that thing rang and startled you? You’d be knocked out of the flow of the spell. It could be catastrophic. You can turn it right back on afterward.”

Afterward.
It seemed a strange concept. In her current state of mind, Alice couldn’t even conceive of an after. She only knew now and how miserable she was.

“Can we wait until I hear back from Tony?” Alice begged. “I just … I need to know he’s safe.”

“Are you
still
worried about the dream you had?” Eva asked. The wind picked up and she pulled at her sleeves. She rolled her eyes in frustration—or desperation—and said, “Alice, you
can’t
trust that. Now, please—the sooner we start, the sooner this will all be over. We’ve come this far. Don’t back out on me.”

“I’m not backing out on you! Eva, do you think I’d be sitting her in a graveyard with you if I didn’t want to help?
I want to help you
, okay? But I’m not going to do you or Penny any good if I’m distracted worrying about Tony.”

Eva’s lips pursed. “Fine. Leave the phone on. But if it rings, we could all get hurt. You know that right?”

Alice couldn’t deny that Eva had a point here, but she didn’t want to let her win. Leaving the phone on, she tossed it over to the next row of tombstones, where it bounced on the grass and came to a halt against a marble headstone. A rebellious tremor made her hand shake; she felt like a swimmer afloat in the ocean—and she had just lost her last tether to land.

“It stays on. But I won’t be looking at it. Are you happy?”

This was a stupid question since Alice had just made both of them unhappy. It was a compromise that satisfied neither party.

Eva frowned but nodded. “I just want everything to go right. For everyone’s sake.”

Alice could only nod. Eva was far more invested in Penny than in than Alice’s (or her own) safety. Extenuating circumstances had stretched this “friendship” nearly to the breaking point.

Eva straightened, pursed her lips, and surveyed her materials. Then, turning to Alice, she said, a little breathlessly, “I’m ready. Are you?”

Alice wasn’t, but knew she never would be.

They knelt side by side at the foot of the newly dug grave, the wind at their faces and the full moon at their backs. With a trembling hand, Eva emptied the first vial of rosewater onto the dirt. She held out a hand, counted to one, and they began.

Wind, carry our voices

Across the divide.

Through the mist

To the land

Beyond shadows.

A strong breeze made Alice’s shirt ripple. Eva, her hair flying in all directions, emptied the next vial onto the ground.

Wanderer, hear our voices.

Remember the wind.

Remember the music.

Remember the smell

Of spring,

And waking,

And follow it home.

Eva grabbed the rosemary and thyme and threw them into the air. The wind—growing more powerful every minute—tossed the tiny leaves upward. Alice expected them to fall back into her face at any second, but they disappeared into the darkness. A strong, earthy scent wafted around her for a few seconds before the wind picked up and carried it away.

Shivers ran down her back; although she heard no footsteps, she could have sworn someone was approaching. Eva elbowed her, and Alice almost screamed. She caught herself, though and remembered what she was supposed to be doing. Her hands were ice cold as she took out the little egg and held it over the grave.

Born from an earth

To an earth.

The minute Eva finished the sentence, Alice gritted her teeth and drove her thumb into the side of the egg, shattering the thin shell. She pulled her finger out, dripping with egg white, and let the golden yolk slip out of the hole and onto the ground.

Life is given

And taken.

Take from those who have.

Give to those who have not.

Golden child revive

The mother’s bones.

As Eva placed the chicken bones in a row in front of the yolk, the hairs on the back of Alice’s neck stood straight up. A force even stronger than the wind pulsed in the palms of her hands and feet, spreading up her limbs. The sensation was electric, as though she were holding her fingers and toes in an electric socket, and it pricked her from the inside out—a series of painful stabs working their way up her body. She hadn’t felt magic like this before. It was wilder and older somehow; when she inhaled, she smelled dust and decay.

Eva picked up the knife at her feet and stretched out her wrist. She held the knife over her head, then brought it down to her wrist. Her hand shook, but she didn’t so much as wince when, with a quick flick, she slit her forearm. A thin trickle of blood dribbled onto the dirt.

Eva sounded out of breath as she continued the spell. Alice stayed silent, waiting for her next entrance and trying not to be sick.

Earth, accept what is,

For what was.

Take what is freely given

And return your

Stolen bounty.

A funnel of wind shot out of the ground and sent the dirt spinning like a mini tornado. It extended up and out, grasping and writhing, snakelike in motion and form. Eva stood and faced the whirling funnel, her jaw set. Alice, who didn’t remember this being part of the plan, tried to pull her back down, but Eva shook her head and tried to pull her hand free. As they struggled, the funnel shot over their heads. Eva froze, watching with wide, surprised eyes as it passed her.

Alice thought she heard a gasp from behind as the funnel sped past her shoulder, sucking her breath away with it. Even though it didn’t touch her, it seemed to pull all the heat out of her, leaving her listless and cold. She struggled to stay upright, letting go of Eva to catch her own balance.

Suddenly, a golden glow worked its way up the funnel and stretched over their heads, lighting the surrounding air as it crept up and up. At last it reached the ground, the funnel still swirling like a glowing, golden rope tethered to the grave.

Alice breathed in; the unnatural chill disappeared. An inexplicable feeling of relief swept over her, as though she had been spared some horrible fate. The glowing funnel was beautiful enough to make her breath catch, but it also sent waves of dread through her. She simultaneously wanted to watch it forever and to run as far away as possible.

But just as the intense relief had faded to a general sense of optimism, she heard the scream.

If a sound could stop a heart, Alice’s would have frozen mid-beat. It was soft for a scream. Soft and low and utterly chilling. It came from behind her, dulled by the wind, but with the sharpness of agony. Waves chased each other up the glowing funnel, which resonated like an enormous just-plucked guitar string.

The cry didn’t stop and it didn’t change. It seemed to stretch forever. Time stretched with it, each moment lengthening to hold the pain. The air went cold.

Eva, still standing, turned around to look for the screamer; her mouth hung open. Alice tore her eyes from the funnel, ripped her hand from the bones, and, marshaling all the strength she could, pulled herself to her feet. The spell tugged at every inch of her skin, sucking strength out of her like marrow from a bone.

Dizzily, she turned around. Eva, still frozen in shock, didn’t try to stop her. If she called after her, Alice didn’t hear it. She ran forward, step after stumbling step, fighting against the wind and against her own exhaustion.

She saw the tombstone. She saw the body. She saw the end of the golden arch, anchored in the man’s chest. Light spilled out of him and was immediately swept up in the funnel.

She didn’t his face, but she didn’t need to.

For a moment, she didn’t move. The entire day had felt so much like a nightmare that she was hardly certain this was happening. But reality set in with a rush and Alice leaped forward.

“
Stop!
” she screamed to Eva as she ran toward Tony. “Stop the spell! It’s killing him!”

“Can’t stop a spell once it’s started. There are
rules!
” Her voice dropped to a murmur that Alice could barely hear. “He shouldn’t be here. This shouldn’t be happening.”

Alice skidded to the ground next to Tony and threw herself over him, trying to protect him from the funnel. The second she did so, the wind dug into her back so forcefully that she would have sworn it was made of flying knives. She screamed in pain as it bored deeper. Her instincts told her to run, but she couldn’t leave Tony unprotected.

The pain only lasted a few seconds, but to Alice it felt like years. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think. Her vision blurred and her body went limp as her strength, her very life, was sucked out of her. She could feel it pouring from her back, year by year, like blood gushing out of a wound. Her body was crushed beneath the pressure of the wind—a pressure that grew steadily stronger until she was certain she would be pressed to death. Warm blood trickled out of her ear and onto her cheek. The roaring in her ears grew louder …

The roaring stopped.

Alice greedily gasped in air. Her body ached, her head spun, as she rolled off Tony and onto the ground. She could have closed her eyes and lapsed into unconsciousness, but in a feat of sheer willpower, she managed to stumble to her knees. Wiping the blood off her face, she flipped Tony over, cradling his head in her lap.

“No,” she cried, her hands shaking. “
No.
”

Trickles of blood crisscrossed his face, stretching from his nostrils to his chin and down his neck. A drop dribbled from the corner of his eye; rivulets from his ears disappeared into his hair.

“Tony!” Half sobbing, she wiped his face with her shirt. “Please, please wake up!”

The vision was real.
She had been a fool to go along with this—a fool from the moment she made that bond with Eva. She wished she could just collapse onto Tony and close her eyes and disappear; this simply couldn’t happen. She couldn’t carry this moment through the rest of her life.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry—so sorry.”

But then, her heart nearly stopped—Tony opened his eyes.

He took heaving breaths, punctuated by fits of coughing. Alice bent over him, tears streaming down her cheeks and dotting his shirt.

“Tony?” she gasped. He struggled to sit up and she held her hand against his back as he leaned over. He put his head on his knees, his whole body shaking with each cough.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, unable to hold back the tears of relief. “You shouldn’t be here. What are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer and she pressed her forehead against the side of his head. Her face was a mess of dirt and tears and blood—hers and his—but she didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was the live, pulsing vein in Tony’s neck and the rise and fall of his shoulders. Everything else faded into a meaningless drone of color and sound.

His hand fumbled its way to her knee as he whispered hoarsely, “Alice.”

“I’m here,” she said, putting her hand on top of his. “I’m ok.”

He nodded and turned to look at her with bloodshot eyes, his skin stained with splotches of blood. He looked like he had wandered off a battlefield, but to Alice his face—even with those awful red eyes—was the most welcome sight in the world.

“I thought I was dying,” he said.

“So did I.”

He blinked a few times; Alice wondered if he was in shock. His expression was still dazed as he asked, “Then how am I still alive?”