Page 40 of Phoenix Academy: Mayhem

Like a presence in the air or a scent that teases at my nose for a moment or two. She's here, but only a little. Just the barest edge of a trail. My heart skips a beat, and I find myself wondering if the Heretic dumped her body nearby. He was bringing it downstream to do terrible things—to take her remains and perform some sort of ceremony with them—but maybe he didn't go far.

If I can find her, I can say last rites over her body. I can finally lay her spirit at rest. Maybe that will be enough to send her to the Spirit Realm, where Mom will be able to find her, and they can go to the Great Beyond together.

It won't be enough to make up for what they've suffered through. The Heretic still needs to pay. But it will set my heart at ease to know that Mom and Lizzy are together again. Maybe then I can let them go.

Closing my eyes, I orient myself towards the sense I get of her on the wind. Fresh summer apples cut beneath a hot sun, blooming peonies crushed underfoot, and sharp herbal tea all remind me of my little sister. She was a witch through and through, a stubborn and impatient one still coming into her own power, but a witch nonetheless.

If she'd gotten to grow up she would've been extraordinary.

My heart quickens at the thought of finding her finally. As heartbreaking as it'll be to see her body, to look at the truth of her death, it's something I need. I've run from what happened here for so long—literally and figuratively. The truth is, I was never going to be able to put it behind me. Not until I've put it in front of me.

I rush towards the feeling of my sister on the wind.

And feel my feet lift off the ground the faster I run.

Soon I'm zooming through the woods, my spirit passing through trees, branches, bushes, every obstacle. The world blurs around me. I don't need breath or energy—I just go, so fast that soon I'm flying, my toes barely touching down.

This is what it's like to travel as a spirit. I thought I wasn't able to do it. The truth was, I needed a destination in mind. I had to want to get somewhere.

After several long moments of racing through the woods, incorporeal and barely aware of my surroundings, I skid to a stop. There's a definite presence near me, one I know instantly is my sister.

"Lizzy." My voice is a gasp in the air. Orienting myself, I take note of my surroundings. I'm in some kind of small rural town, a sign for the highway in one direction, pit stops and cafes in the other. She's straight ahead of me, out of sight but very much there. "I'm coming for you. You're going to get to rest, finally. I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner."

Running past a corner store and a few small houses, I turn a corner and find her resting place: a red brick church with a dingy faded sign out front declaring a Bible verse for all who pass by. There's a cross at the steeple and untended land out back. Something like horror goes through me as I realize he must have brought her here to do his ceremony. The land behind the church is heavy with the sense of her; he must have buried her somewhere under ground. That realization sits heavy inside me, like I swallowed a toad and it's kicking around in my stomach.

We're witches, and this is hallowed ground, but this is not what we do with our dead. It's a perversion of our practices. We've been burned, drowned, and buried for too long. Our bodies are meant to be given over to the land—to be laid on the ground and have our sisters and mothers and aunts call to the wilderness until every inch of our remains is covered with creeping vines and blooming roses. We become one with the earth, not rotted refuse beneath it.

I walk cautiously towards the wild acreage behind the church. If I'm lucky, he will have buried her in a shallow grave, and my ghostly fingers will be able to dig her up. Somehow I doubt that will happen, though. At least I'll be able to say prayers over her body. When I'm done, roses will bloom and water will run clear near her resting place.

Lizzy. Little Elizabeth Wolfe, who I teased and rolled my eyes at. Who rolled her eyes back at me and stuck her tongue out. My sister and my closest friend. Taken from me forever.

Taking a deep breath, I walk directly towards her presence.

And stop in shock when I see her.

Not buried beneath the ground, but standing on it. Not in spirit form, but body and soul—whole and very much alive. My mind whirls, and I have to stare for several moment to understand what I'm seeing.

Pale blonde hair. A skinny body, with long limbs stretched by growth. That birthmark on her right calf in the shape of a crescent moon. She's facing away from me, but I would know my sister anywhere.

Rushing towards her, I cry out, "Lizzy! Goddess, I can't believe it's really you—"

She turns to face me.

She hears my voice, even in spirit form.

But the face that looks at me isn't one that I recognize. I stop in horror, words of love and reunion strangled in my throat.

Her eyes are near-white and terrifying, the iris barely visible, her pupil a tiny speck in a circle of cloudy grey. The hair around her face is white and colorless, devoid of life and dried out.

What's really different is her expression. Gone are the laughing lips, the dancing eyes, the joy and life. My little sister's face is missing everything I ever saw on it. Her lips are twisted in a sneer, and a harsh, jagged scar runs across his eyebrow, lifting it like she's constantly judging those around her.

"You." Her voice is full of hate. I take a stumbling step back, hearing the Heretic in her tone and panicking. "You shouldn't be here!"

She screeches like a banshee and lunges for me.

I windmill back, terror filling me even in my spirit form.

Grey-white fire leaps from her fingers.

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