Authors: Tara Hudson
Elegy (22 page)
“But, Mom—”
“No ‘but,’ Amelia,” she interrupted again, sounding an awful lot like the woman who’d berated me into surviving years of math homework. “I’ve already made up my mind. Best-case scenario: I’ll be dancing with your father by Sunday morning. Worst-case scenario: I spend eternity in the same place that you do. Either way . . . I win.”
I brushed furiously at the tears that had abruptly returned to the corners of my eyes. What could I say to that?
Thank you
didn’t seem like enough, so I merely sobbed, “I love you, Mom. I’m sorry for all the times we fought when I was, you know, alive.”
She laughed softly, looking away from me and staring thoughtfully at the trees. “Honey, I lost those memories a long time ago. Now, all I see is your dad’s smile when we danced; all I hear is your laughter.
Those
are things I held on to.”
Somehow, her words only made me cry harder. But this time, my mother didn’t cry. She didn’t look at me, either. She just kept her gaze trained on the tree line and gave a decisive nod.
“I love you, too, Amelia. And I’ll see you tonight.”
Knowing that was my dismissal, I pressed myself up from my chair, climbed down from the porch, and hurriedly made my way across her lawn. Just before I crossed onto the road in front of her house, though, I thought I heard her call out to me one last time.
I swallowed hard but didn’t turn around—just kept walking steadily until, if I
did
turn around, I wouldn’t be able to see the house. Mostly because I just couldn’t bring myself to take that long, last look at the woman I loved most in the world, sitting near the place where she’d raised me.
I
dreaded my next errand almost more than my first, probably because of
where
I had to conduct it. I probably could have tried to do this someplace different—a field of daisies perhaps, just for some symmetry. But in the end, I didn’t know of any location more supernaturally charged than here, on the riverbank beneath High Bridge.
I paced the bank uncomfortably, avoiding any eye contact with the structure behind me. I’d seen it enough times to know that it still looked menacing in the daylight; and I’d seen it enough times in the past two weeks to know that I’d get my fill of it that night. Instead of looking back, I stared at the mud below me, watching as it squished around the ruined edges of my ballet flats.
“Are you there?” I called softly, with my eyes still trained on the ground. “You said to call if I needed you. And I really need you right now.”
Nothing answered but a few springtime crickets and the rushing water of the river. I supposed I wasn’t all that surprised by the lack of response; her instructions for calling
had
been pretty specific. So I stopped pacing, closed my eyes, and raised my head.
“Melissa!” I shouted into the air. “Melissa, I need to speak to you. Please.”
At first, nothing else happened. Then I heard a soft, whooshing breeze, which brought with it a pleasantly floral scent.
It smelled like heaven.
I opened my eyes, relieved. But I was surprised to find that I was still standing on the riverbank, and it was still empty. No prairie, no Melissa—just that soft, sweet-smelling breeze.
“What’s going on?” I whispered, a little afraid of the answer. Was this the light, responding to my call? Or was this the dark, screwing with my mind—breaking down my willpower, before they broke me completely that night?
As if in reply, the breeze blew stronger around me, filling the air with that lovely scent. It was gorgeous, intoxicating, but it was also maddening. Especially when unaccompanied by an explanation.
I straightened my spine, cast a single glance back at High Bridge to make sure nothing waited there to surprise me, and then turned back toward the riverbank.
“Answer me,” I demanded. “I called you. Now answer.”
Amelia.
The breeze called my name, soft but distinct. After another heartbeat, a faint, translucent form took shape in front of me. Although she was colorless and sheer, I could tell that the form was Melissa.
“Nice of you to come,” I said drily.
It’s not easy
, Melissa replied in that breeze-like whisper,
to appear to you on this plain. I prefer the meadow.
I couldn’t help but snort. “Sorry I didn’t have time to pass out so I could talk to you.”
When Melissa remained silent, I took that as my cue to speak again.
“So I called you,” I began awkwardly, “to give you an answer. Sort of.”
Melissa stirred.
You’ve decided to join us, after all?
“Yes. And no. Not exactly.”
Even though she was sheer, I could still see the outline of Melissa’s frown.
I don’t understand
, she said, obviously prompting me to clarify.
Here was my chance, then. Everyone’s fate hinged on what I asked right now, and what Melissa answered. I stood taller—as tall as I possibly could—and stared directly into what I assumed were her eyes.
“I want to repeat what I asked you the other night: I want you to let me try to save the living people I love, before I join you. And I want you to allow everyone that I save in the netherworld, and even in hell, to join me in heaven too.”
Melissa began to whisper a protest, but I cut her off. “Please, just listen to my full request before you deny it. Please?”
Melissa paused and, after another moment’s hesitation, nodded. So, like I had done for my mother earlier that morning, I told Melissa about each part of my plan. I described my first line of defense, which included the young Seers and their newly acquired glows, as well as my second, darker plot, which included my mother, Felix’s gun, and as much Transfer Powder as I could steal from Annabel’s jar before that night’s attack. And also like I had done that morning, I admitted each thing that could—and probably would—go wrong.
Melissa listened just as patiently as my mother had, nodding occasionally without interrupting me. But unlike my mother, Melissa refused to give me a straight answer once I’d finished.
An interesting plan
, Melissa whispered.
I look forward to seeing how it plays out.
“‘How it plays out’? What is
that
supposed to mean?”
Melissa didn’t really react to my shrill tone. Instead, she shrugged and then whispered,
It means that we’ll be watching to see what you can accomplish tonight. Particularly with regard to this bridge and the hell gate.
“You’re . . . you’re going to ‘watch’?” I gasped. “Without telling me whether or not you’ll take the people I try to save? Including myself?”
Melissa tilted her head to the side but said nothing. I saw her gesture for what it was, though. This was her wordless way of telling me that the light intended to adopt the “wait and see” approach to my loved ones. To
me
.
I sputtered, at a loss for what to say next. But I wasn’t stunned or even cowed by Melissa’s lack of an answer—I was
furious
. I felt so angry, so indignant, that I thought I would ignite right there on the riverbank. I was fairly certain that if I opened my mouth to speak, I might literally choke on my words.
But as quickly as my anger built, it disappeared, as though something had simply drained it out of me. Where I’d previously felt fire, I now felt only a cold sense of numbness.
Of resignation.
I dropped my gaze from Melissa, back to the riverbank below me, and nodded. “All right,” I said softly. “You’ll watch.”
My desolation must have finally affected Melissa, because the breeze suddenly sounded like a sympathetic sigh. I thought, for a desperate second, that she might actually answer me—at least give me the courtesy of a no. But when the breeze sighed again, it sounded different, like the kind of noise someone makes when they know that the person they are looking at is dying.
I glanced up and saw that Melissa had vanished. Left me with nothing but an empty riverbank and a fading breeze that sounded an awful lot like,
Good luck
.
Of course, that might have just been a trick of the wind.
I
made it back to the Mayhews’ gazebo just in time to smell something delicious wafting out the open windows of the kitchen. Despite everything I’d been through that morning, the thought of lunch still set my mouth to watering.
My knock on the back door was quickly answered by Jeremiah, who looked a little cheerier than he had that morning. “Amelia, hi,” he greeted me, holding open the door for me. “Are you joining us for lunch, too?”
“I didn’t mean to intrude, Mr. Mayhew. I just . . . um . . . forgot that I left my shoes up in Jillian’s room. My mom will string me up if I don’t get her nice black heels back to her.” I blushed furiously as I followed him inside, feeling more than a little guilty about the lie.
Jeremiah didn’t seem to notice the deception. He nodded distractedly, moving through the back hallway toward the kitchen.
“Understood,” he said. “Rebecca wants to string Jillian up on a daily basis. But just so you know, you really are welcome to join us for lunch; I’m already feeding half the family anyway.”
He wasn’t wrong: inside the kitchen, Joshua and Jillian were once again sitting at the table, digging into a huge, intoxicating-looking bowl of their father’s crawfish étoufée. As were Annabel, Hayley, Drew, and Felix; apparently, they’d finished with their keg-fetching errand and were now starving. I didn’t see Rebecca anywhere—she’d probably already gone to her warehouse, to organize flowers for prom.
“I think I will join them,” I told Jeremiah, eyeing the étoufée lustfully. He gave me a distracted wave as he turned his attention to a stack of papers on what I’d come to think of as the business end of the kitchen island.
“No problem.” Then he looked briefly up at me. “Are you going with them tonight? To prom?”
I tried very hard not to look surprised. This was our cover story, then: that the young Mayhews and their dates would attend prom, instead of a diabolical dogfight. In a way, it was perfect. Jeremiah and Rebecca would be too distracted by the endless corsage orders to demand group photos from us before “prom.” They also wouldn’t be too surprised when their kids stayed out late tonight. I just hoped that the young Seers had thought to tell their older family members that we’d be putting on our formal wear in some other location; otherwise, someone might get suspicious that we were going to prom in jeans and hoodies.
“Of course,” I finally replied, flashing Jeremiah my most convincing smile. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Then, head down, I hurried to the table. All the seats were taken, but Felix—still trying to make up for the other night, I think—gave me his so that I now faced Joshua. He smiled warmly at me, but the expression was just a shade too brittle, as though Joshua had already started counting the minutes that we had left together. Which, like me, I’m sure he had.
Unaware of our little drama, Felix shifted to one side, waiting until Jeremiah seemed otherwise occupied to lean close to the table.
“Maybe we should all spend the rest of the afternoon preparing?” he whispered. “For prom and the . . . bonfire afterward? And maybe we could do that near ‘our’ fire pit?”
Judging by everyone else’s nods, they also knew what Felix meant—that we should go discuss tonight’s game plan. Then, after recruiting at prom this evening, we should go back to Robber’s Cave and start doing our Transfer Powder spells. I didn’t
disagree
, but I wasn’t necessarily ready to leave the Mayhews’ house. Not when I only had maybe an hour or two left to spend with Joshua, alone.
“Why don’t you guys go on ahead?” I suggested. “Joshua and I will be . . . at the cabins soon.”
Annabel shot me a mildly insulting look. “Um . . . Amelia?” she prompted, in a condescending tone. “You’re sort of a . . . crucial part of this whole ‘prom and bonfire’ experience.”
To my credit, I didn’t scowl or even smirk at her. I just shook my head and smiled lightly.
“I know that, Annabel,” I said patiently. “But I need a few minutes to myself. I’m sure you understand.”
Again, Annabel’s glare told me that she didn’t understand, or particularly care. That was just too bad, I supposed; I didn’t have enough time left in this day to waste it arguing with her.
“Go on ahead,” I repeated, and then made a shooing gesture at the rest of them. “You guys go start prepping. Joshua and I will hang out here for a while to help Jeremiah clean up, and then we’ll catch up.”
Looping Jeremiah into this conversation proved a smart move. As soon as he heard his name mentioned, Jeremiah agreed that this plan worked perfectly for him, since his mind was clearly on other things than cleaning his kitchen. Now that Annabel would look childish if she continued to argue, she had no choice but to round up her little coven and go.
Which was exactly what she did, albeit with no small amount of muttered grumbling. Eventually, though, the only people left in the kitchen were me, Joshua, and his dad. Joshua opened his mouth—probably about to ask that we be excused—but he shut it when he caught me eyeing the bowl of étoufée in between us.
“Here you go,” he said, ladling a few spoonfuls onto one of the clean plates stacked near the center of the table. “You look like you might need this first.”
I took the food from him eagerly, and began to dig into it. After a few bites, however, I couldn’t help but pause to glance up and share a wistful smile with him. Joshua and I had played this scene before, in the attic bedroom of Annabel’s home in New Orleans. That had been my first real meal, and chances were good that this would be my last. Somehow, I didn’t think I’d be able to choke down a sandwich tonight when my face-off with the demons was a mere hour away. As far as last meals went, though, this one was spectacular—every bit as delicious as I remembered it.
And for some reason, that reality suddenly washed over me. Before I knew what was happening, I was sobbing silently above my étoufée. Joshua’s eyes widened with alarm and, after checking to make sure that his father hadn’t seen, he pulled the plate away from me.
“Dad,” he said, “do you mind if Amelia and I go upstairs for a while? We’ll leave the door open.”
Still looking at his stack of papers, Jeremiah shrugged. “Fine by me.”
Yet another reason to love dads, I supposed. I breathed a sigh of relief, letting Joshua help me from my chair so that we could walk hand in hand up to his room. Before we crossed through the kitchen archway, however, I threw a final glance over my shoulder at Jeremiah.
Compared to how he’d looked during the last few days, he seemed calmer. Lighter. And I was glad for that: he deserved happiness and safety, just as much as his children did. Watching him now, I realized that although I didn’t know him all that well, I cared about him, too, as well as his wife; I wanted to make sure that Jeremiah and Rebecca were safe too.
Which, of course, meant that I would never see them again. Not after tonight.
Hanging my head, I followed Joshua up the stairs. Once we reached his room, he pushed the door almost shut behind us and then drew me into his arms.
“You okay?” he whispered into my hair, after a long silence. I nodded, sniffing a little.
“Yeah, just really weepy today. For obvious reasons, I guess.” I paused, and then added, “I . . . I visited my mom this morning.”
Once again, Joshua demonstrated why I loved him. Instead of berating me, or feeling hurt that I’d visited her without him, he leaned back and smiled happily at me.
“I’m proud of you for doing that, Amelia. I really am. So . . . how did it go?”
I hesitated again, and then replied, “She’s coming to help. Tonight.”
Now I’d
really
surprised him. He leaned farther back until he held me at arm’s length. He couldn’t think I was joking, but he still studied my face, looking for some clue about why I’d invited her.
“I need her, Joshua,” I told him quietly. “I need her there . . . for support.”
He didn’t look like he believed me, probably because I didn’t sound very believable. But I’d already decided not to give him all the details. So although I didn’t lie, I didn’t tell the full truth, either.
Long ago, Joshua and I had agreed that we would fight the demons together—that I would tell him everything that I could. This part of the plan, however . . . I just couldn’t share with him. Not only would he fail to support it, but he might also
volunteer
for it. And I couldn’t survive everything to come if he did that.
“Okay,” Joshua finally said. “If that’s what you need.”
After a second’s more scrutiny, he pulled me to him again. I tilted my head back, gratefully accepting his kiss—partly because it meant that he’d accepted what little I said about the matter, and partly because I just wanted to kiss him.
Although it began sweetly, the kiss soon shifted into something stronger as it continued. The more passionately Joshua kissed me, the harder my pulse raced and the more my breathing sped. And suddenly—possibly even more than the night before—I wanted to experience that fire. That connection. I wanted him, both literally and figuratively, so that I could keep this moment as a memory—lock it inside my heart, to take with me wherever I went that night.
I thought Joshua would eventually close that door and carry me to the bed. But instead he abruptly ended the kiss.
“We can run,” he said fervently, bringing our clasped hands between us and clenching tightly. “Amelia, let’s just run. We’ll call my family, and tell them to stay away from the bridge, and then we’ll run away—to California, or Wyoming, or . . . hell, we’ll just pick a state with as few rivers as possible and settle there.”
Instead of arguing with him—countering his appeals with all the reasons that they were wrong—I shook my head and smiled sadly.
“We can’t, Joshua. I can’t.”
Almost as soon as I said it, his face fell. He nodded dejectedly, released my hands, and dropped into a seated position on the edge of his bed. I stared at him, feeling just as lost and unsure as he looked. Then I dropped as well, falling to my knees in front of him. I lifted both his hands, turned them over, and placed a kiss in each of his palms.
“If it makes you feel any better,” I whispered, “I don’t want to do this either. But I
have
to. I have to end the fight that started on the night of my eighteenth birthday. If you ask me, this battle has been a long time coming. And the only thing that will keep me going—the only thing that’s ever kept me going—is the fact that I love you. That I
will
love you, for as long as I still exist and even after that, if I can.”
What more could Joshua say? Like I’d just done, he drew my hands to his lips and kissed both of them. Then he bent forward and pressed his lips to mine one more time.