Page 47 of Avelina

“Any updates from the house?” Ward asked.

I squinted harder at the hazy form of Spirit, as if that would clear my vision.

I’m sorry, Lina, Spirit thought. Seleca burned your house to the ground, then left to go look for Aaron’s family.

A lead weight dropped from my heart into my stomach, and I put my hands over my eyes, taking a deep breath. A hand touched my shoulder, and I looked up to see Ward peering down at me, his brows drawn together.

“She burned the house down,” I said. He winced and then his whole face reddened. He pulled me into a hug. My throat burned as I struggled not to cry. I mostly succeeded. Only one tear escaped. That house had been my home for sixteen years and it had been Ward’s home for almost as long. We would need to grieve for that life, but we didn’t have time right now.

Ward released me from the hug and looked down at me, squeezing one shoulder. “It’ll be okay,” he said. “It’s just a house. Everyone is safe, right?”

I nodded. “For now,” I said. “Although we don’t know where they went. God only knows what they did with the horses.” I peered at Aaron. I’m sure he’d heard me say my house burned down, but he ignored us. I shook my head. I wasn’t sure if I should tell him about the second part of that message right now. I felt heavy from trying to guard everyone’s emotions while suppressing my own. You can only carry the weight of other people’s needs so far before you have to drop it like ballast from an overloaded ship.

“Okay, thank you, Spirit,” I said, trying to move on. “Can you still follow her?”

Yes, I could find that thing anywhere. I just have to follow the smell.

“Is that a metaphor?” I asked.

Not really. She has a spiritual stench. The other spirits avoid her.

“The others?” I asked.

Yes, there are many others who haven’t crossed the death bridge, Spirit thought.

I wanted to ask her more, but afterlife research rated as a low priority just then.

“Thank you, Spirit. Keep me updated,” I said, yawning.

She didn’t say goodbye this time, just disappeared. It was comforting to know that I could call her back anytime. Conjuration was different from the other reservoirs. It didn’t feel like using a fragment at all but more like making a wish. It was no effort whatsoever, like I could do it in my sleep, which I might have to since the jarring weed was still in full effect. I yawned again.

I should send Spirit to go check on Marti and Milo, I thought. They lost the twins. They must be devastated. My friends were all suffering because of me. It was all my fault. The whole thing made me so tired. We were all tired, I knew, but I was drowsy enough that I felt like I could lie right there on the ground. That sounded like such a great idea. Just leave it all behind. I yawned again and closed my eyes.

“Lina,” Aaron said, his voice sounding far away. “Lina, open your eyes.” He held me, but I didn’t know why. Had he hurt me again? “She won’t wake up,” he said, his voice panicked.

But I am awake, I said. I’m right . . . I opened my eyes and looked down at myself in Aaron’s arms. This isn’t right.

Call yourself back, a deep voice said. I glanced up and saw a giant towering over Aaron. He strongly resembled Aaron, actually, except tall and slender like Ward, with pale skin. He had Aaron’s ice-blue eyes, but they were missing something indefinable.

Life, I thought. Huh. I knew I should be surprised, maybe even upset, but I felt too relaxed and calm. I didn’t want to go back to the pain and misery. I wanted to stay here forever.

You have very little time, the man said. You must call yourself back into your body.

That doesn’t even make sense, I thought.

It doesn’t need to make sense, the man retorted. Just do it. A portion of your spirit is still seated inside your body. When you say your own name, that part of you will wrench the rest back in.

I sighed. This was so unfair. I just got here. And this ghost man smelled so good, like jarring weed. I snorted. Jarring weed. Such a weird name for a plant.

Do it now, Lina, said the ghost giant urgently. His voice was even deeper than Aaron’s, and he spoke with absolute authority. His eyes darted all around, then he looked over his shoulder as if we were children about to get caught opening presents before Christmas.

Fine, I said, sticking out my bottom lip. Lina, I said, as if calling a dog. Here, Lina, Lina, Lina. Come back to your body, Lina. I recalled a vintage episode of Sesame Street where Ernie called fish into a boat, and I giggled. I love old television shows. “Here, Lina, Lina, Lina,” I said again in my best Ernie voice.

I heard the ghost giant sigh, and then I felt a gentle tugging as if an invisible cord attached the top of my ghost head to my real head. I accepted the inevitable, said goodbye to my new friend Bert, and pulled myself back in. I was then violently wrenched back into my body. If I had been in my body while that happened, I would have broken my neck.

My eyes flew open, and I sucked a deep breath in, then coughed. I was on the ground. Aaron held my upper body in his lap. It was the ICU all over again, except dirtier. The moons spun in the sky above Aaron’s head, as if they, too, had been worried about me.

I squeezed my eyes shut until the dizziness passed, feeling Aaron’s hot breath on my face. “That was so messed up,” I said. Aaron had a death grip on my hand as if he’d been trying to connect with me. Once I came back to myself, the superficial link reestablished itself of its own accord.

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