I was less than a hundred feet from her when I had a sudden thought—one that I desperately hoped would work, if only for a few seconds. As I continued to dive, I repeated the same word over and over in my mind, like a prayer.

Possess, possess, possess.

Finally, the shadow collided with my mother’s body, and I spent an endless, terrified moment thinking that I’d crushed her. But when the shadow pulled me into her like a vacuum, I felt light-headed with relief. Within seconds, my vision shifted from staring at her horrified face, to staring out from it at my horrified friends. At Joshua.

I had almost as little control over my mother’s body as I did over my own, especially since the shadow, tricked into this possession, had already started to push me back out of her. Worse, her body felt lethargic and almost unresponsive—very near the peaceful, sleeping death that I would have preferred for her, rather than a forced drowning in the netherworld river. So I focused all my energy on making my mother do one last thing before the end.

“Run,” I gasped with my mother’s captive vocal chords. “Off . . . the bridge. Run.”

Then, before I could warn my friends further, the shadow ripped me out of my mother.

Immediately after I left her body, she doubled over and began gasping for breath. But the shadow had no mercy. It ducked down, wrapping its tendrils underneath her arms and hauling her to her feet.

As it dragged her to the edge of the bridge, I expected her to scream and struggle. But instead, my mother closed her eyes and extinguished her protective glow. When she opened her eyes, she looked directly at the shadow’s face and smiled as if she’d managed to find me beneath all that evil.

“Amelia,” she whispered, her words already slurring, “I know it’s you. And I’m ready.”

I could hear her heart, hammering loudly but sluggishly in her chest, slowing down under the influence of all those sleeping pills. I started to cry, and the shadow made no attempt to stanch my tears; I supposed that was another nasty twist to being a wraith—the darkness controlled your body, but allowed you to feel as miserable as you wanted.

I continued to sob as the shadow-me pulled my mother up onto the railing, tugging her away from the hands of my friends, all of whom had started to scream her name. Even then, my mother surprised me: as the shadow wrapped more tightly around her, she wrapped her arms around it, too.

“I love you, honey,” she whispered. “Now, let’s go.”

And then, without further delay, the two of us plummeted backward off the railing and into the abyss below.

Chapter

THIRTY-FIVE

When I woke, no longer a wraith, I was once again lying on the floor of the menacing hallway. And I had more company.

“Amelia?” my mother croaked, rolling to her side and reaching out to me. I reached out, too, and clasped her ghostly, faintly shining hand in mine. Only one other time had I been so grateful to feel another person’s touch.

“Mom!” I cried, using her hand to drag myself next to her. Lying there on the cold floor of hell, my mother and I pulled each other into a tearful embrace. “I’m so, so sorry,” I sobbed. “That was way more awful that I thought it would be. Did you feel it? Please, please tell me that you didn’t feel the drowning part.”

“Shhh,” she breathed into my hair. “I didn’t feel anything. I was unconscious before we even hit the water. And anyway, as long as I was with you, I knew it would be okay.”

“Oh my God, Mom,” I moaned, “I’m sorry. For everything. I didn’t want this for you, I really didn’t.”

A derisive snort interrupted my apology. “How touching,” the intruder spat.

With no small amount of resentment, I turned away from my mother to face the old reaper. He hunched nearby, watching my mother and me with a combination of hatred and longing. Holding his gaze, I gave my mother a last, fierce hug, and then helped her to rise from the floor. Once we both stood, I gestured between my mother and the reaper.

“Person of No Consequence—meet my mother.”

The reaper snickered, as if my insult pleased him. Still laughing, he gave me a low, sarcastic bow of his head. “Madam, I’ve been asked to escort you and your mother to the masters. It seems that you all have much to discuss.”

A wave of nervous nausea washed over me. I repressed it as best I could, drawing a few deep breaths. Then I threw back my shoulders, took my mother’s hand again, and put on my bravest face.

“We’re ready,” I told him.

He gave me another ironic bow and then began dragging himself in the direction of my room. Seeing this macabre creature move, my mother froze, wide-eyed and frightened. But she soon regained her composure and marched just as bravely as I did down the hallway.

This walk seemed much shorter than it did earlier, probably because I now knew what waited at the end of it: a long-shot chance at redemption, or a lingering, certain demise.

My mother must have sensed my fear because she gave my hand a firm squeeze, just as we paused outside the open door to my room.

“I love you, Amelia,” she whispered again. “No matter what happens next.”

With tears in my eyes, I yanked her back into a hug. Pressed close to her again, I slipped my hand into my pocket and then forced her to take what I offered: a handful of Transfer Powder.

“At the right moment,” I whispered into her ear. “Just like we talked about this morning.”

When she nodded her understanding, I gave her a quick peck on the cheek and, aloud, said, “I love you, too, Mom.”

“And she loves you, and you love her for loving you, and we all love each other,” the old reaper snarled. “Now, quit stalling and go inside.”

As we crossed the threshold of my room, I gave the pathetic, broken creature a final glare. From the corner of my eye, however, I noticed my mother hide her powder-filled hand behind her back. Now that we were as ready as we could be, I took her free hand and we stepped more fully into the room.

As before, my room remained in total darkness until the demons were good and ready to reveal themselves. When the lights finally popped back on, and my eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, it took everything within me not to drop my mother’s hand and run toward the jury box.

Gaby, Serena, and Eli crouched in front of it, looking very much like themselves instead of projections or puppets. Yet I wouldn’t say that any of them looked well, either. Even Serena, who’d been dead for the shortest amount of time, seemed more gaunt and broken. She bore the same bruises and cuts that Gaby and Eli did—fresh wounds that might have been inflicted right before my mother and I arrived.

“As you requested, Amelia,” Belial said grandly, stepping forward to sweep his hand above their heads, as if he’d brought them here as presents for me.

“May I . . . Can they come over here?” I asked haltingly. “To be with me, when you all make your decision about my future?”

“You’re making another demand of us?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head quickly. “Not at all. I’m asking that you show just a little mercy—that you allow me the comfort of my loved ones if you decide to end me.”

After a pause, Belial shrugged, chuckling. “Oh, I don’t see why not. After all, you did perform the task that you promised you would.”

I didn’t like the way he leered at my mother as he said the word “task.” But I couldn’t chastise him for it; not when I was so close to victory. I looked down at the other ghosts—Gaby, Serena, Eli—and, without a word, held my arms open to them.