“Holy hell,” I gasped, and immediately, Joshua’s glow extinguished. He rushed forward to comfort me, and it took everything I had not to shy away from him. With a slight, reflexive twinge of fear, I allowed him to take my arm carefully into his hand again.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he said, talking fast, as though the speed at which he spoke might heal the pink, hand-shaped welt that had started to form around my wrist. As my burned skin darkened and wrinkled, I shook my head in awe.

It had worked: I’d transferred one of my greatest weapons into another being. And with that, another piece of my plan to destroy the netherworld gateway snapped into place.

Chapter

TWENTY-TWO

Joshua 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.