And avoided.

Once again I wanted to give in. I wanted to spill that four-letter word and have it mean something. Not I love your eyes or I love your laugh. But I love you. Just you.

Instead, I started to babble inanely.

“You know what I love? Christmas. I’ve loved Christmas ever since I was little. Well, I think I did, anyway, since I haven’t gotten those memories back yet. But it’s a safe bet that I loved it, right? The tree, the food, the presents—”

Joshua interrupted me by grabbing my arm, encircling my wrist with a ring of fire. The supernatural warmth of his touch, however, couldn’t match the very real fire in his eyes. He looked like a man about to say the most important words of his life, and I suddenly found myself silent, hypnotized. If I had a functioning heart, now would be the time it raced uncontrollably.

Joshua’s lips parted—either to kiss me or confess something to me, I was certain.

But to my surprise, he did neither. He paused for another long second as if deciding between several options and then gave me a crooked grin.

“Want to know what your Christmas present is, Amelia?” he asked.

“My … what?”

“Your Christmas present.”

I struggled to make sense of his words and then, finally, the pieces fell into place. I began to sputter in protest.

“That’s … that’s not fair, Joshua.”

He laughed quietly—obviously pleased with himself. “When did I tell you I’d be fair?” he joked.

I shook my head, undeterred. “Joshua, I can’t even make you a reindeer ornament out of pipe cleaners, for pete’s sake. How am I supposed to buy you a gift?”

“I didn’t buy you one, either,” he reassured me. “I didn’t even get the idea for this present until tonight. But now … well, I think it’s pretty awesome.”

“Oh, great,” I groaned, deflating. “Every time you make up your mind, it’s impossible to talk sense to you.”

His grin widened. “Yup. I become an immovable object.”

“Oh yeah?” I grumbled. “And did you ever think that maybe I’m the unstoppable force?”

His smile softened as he placed his fingers at the curve of my waist. “If anything in this life is unstoppable, it’s you, Amelia. Just ask Eli.”

I tried not to wince at the mention of Eli’s name. It provoked thoughts of other things. Things that I almost but not quite forgot each time I stared into Joshua’s eyes.

I suffered a near unbearable pinch of guilt when I thought about the Christmas present I’d planned for Joshua: abandonment.

Abandonment for his own protection, but abandonment still. Whether on my own or wandering with a pack of ghosts, I had no intention of staying.

“Amelia? Are you really mad about the Christmas thing? ’Cause if you are …”

Joshua’s voice called me back to the present, especially when he trailed off. The uncertainty in his tone reminded me to stay anchored in this moment. I had to maximize my time so that both he and I could remember our last minutes as happy ones—probably a disservice to him but a necessity for me, if I wanted to survive the rest of my eternity without him.

I mustered all my courage and flashed him my brightest smile. “I’m not mad at all. Not one bit. But I do have one requirement, okay?”

Joshua nodded. “Name it.”

I curved up one corner of my mouth and placed one hand on the front of his shirt.

“Let me give you your present tonight,” I said in a low purr.

Delight soon replaced the momentary surprise in Joshua’s eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of stopping you, Amelia.”

“Good,” I answered, almost roughly. Then, without further warning, I pressed my hand on Joshua’s chest. Hard.

The force of my shove knocked him off balance, and he flew back toward the tiny bed, taking me with him. In the fraction of the second that we fell together through the air, I stopped his surprised laughter with a fiery, blissful kiss.

We landed on the bed in a tangle, pulling each other into another kiss as quickly as we could. His fingers in my hair, my arms around his neck: everything felt warm and fantastic and right.

While we kissed, I mostly focused on Joshua. But that quiet, desperate part of my brain continued to pray for three things: that Joshua and I would never have to stop doing this; that when we inevitably did, I would find a way to leave him kindly and safely—at least, safely for him; and finally, that just for tonight I wouldn’t have to disappear from his side.

The next morning came too quickly. Though we hadn’t done much more than kiss, I wanted to spend the rest of the day luxuriating in our time together. But Joshua was all jittery excitement as he jumped out of bed and hurriedly threw on new jeans and a sweater. Too soon, he dragged me down the staircase and into the tiny dining room where most of the Mayhew clan had gathered for breakfast. Even then—surrounded by family, friends, and a mouthwatering feast of fruit, bacon, and breakfast gumbo—he bolted down his meal without taking the time to chat, much less breathe.

While he threw down his napkin and gave his aunt Trish a mumbled thank you, I cast a final glance around the room. Ruth had once again failed to join her family. After last night’s little trick with the dust, I more than suspected that had something to do with my presence. All the more reason to follow Joshua on his mission today and get out of the house from which she’d tried to ban me last night.

Before we left, however, I noticed that another face was strangely missing from the breakfast table: Alex’s.

With the exception of their leader, the entire crew of young Seers had made it to breakfast. Annabel, Drew, and Hayley (who evidently had permission to stay over) all huddled together over steaming cups of chicory coffee, each looking the worse for wear after last night’s partying. Jillian also looked inexplicably tired as she glowered at her plate of fruit. She’d probably paced in her room all night, silently bemoaning her tragic social life.

But Alex must have chosen to stay in bed.

Odd, I thought. He didn’t strike me as the late-to-rise type. Then I reminded myself that I hardly knew most of these people.

And in two days I would no longer know them at all....

The warm grasp of Joshua’s hand in mine stirred me from that thought. After giving Annabel a knowing look (which I assumed meant she knew what my present was), Joshua pulled me gently from the dining room. I followed him through the foyer—a far less menacing place in the daylight—and out onto the sidewalk.

The French Quarter looked quite different in the sun, as well. No longer mysterious and shadowed, the streets were welcoming, their colorful shutters flung open to the day. Despite the bright winter air, green ferns cascaded over the balconies above us, some of their tendrils reaching up toward the sky. And although the Mayhews’ town house was in a somewhat residential area of the Quarter, the sidewalk bustled with camera-wielding tourists and harried residents carrying bags full of last-minute gifts.

Joshua gave my hand a quick squeeze before releasing it so that we could move less conspicuously down the street. From the corner of his mouth, he said, “Your present is a couple blocks away. That okay?”

I just nodded, too absorbed in the sights and sounds of the Quarter to answer. We rounded a corner and crossed onto what looked like a more commercial street. As we walked, I couldn’t help but gape into all the shop windows, which displayed everything from ornate, antique furniture to mannequins in outrageous clothing and wildly colored wigs.

When we crossed another street, I could see a motley group of street musicians about half a block away, setting up some makeshift seats next to an open guitar case on the ground. Only after Joshua and I walked out of view did I hear their music: lush, classical jazz … amazing, when I realized it came from their battered instruments. Listening to the music fade into the distance, I sighed wistfully.