Afterlife (32 page)

Balthazar didn’t turn on the lights when we entered his dorm
room. That was probably so he could have some privacy while he undressed; of
course, I looked away regardless. The moonlight was at work again, though, so I
could see his shadow against the wall as he slipped off his shirt and unbuckled
his belt.

And he’s not Patrice’s “type “?I thought
.
!just
don’t get that.

When I heard the covers on his bed rustle, I returned to
watching him, hovering just above his bed. Balthazar lay on his side, and he
appeared to be one of those lucky people who only had to close his eyes before
sleep began. Within a few short minutes, I could sense that he was dreaming.

Although I felt awkward about doing it — almost as though I
were cheating on Lucas just by sharing this with anybody else — I stretched
myself thin and dove downward, into the very center of Balthazar’s sleeping
mind — And found myself in the forest, again at nighttime.

At first I thought these were the woods near Evernight, but
then I realized that wasn’t right. Most of the trees here were taller, and some
of them were hugely thick — ancient, perhaps. In
the
distance, I could hear a few people talking, and some other sound: horses’
hooves. As I peered through the inky night, I realized that the people were
riding in an old — fashioned wagon along a dirt road, and the clothes they wore
were unfamiliar, with large hats and long cloaks. It reminded me somewhat of
the scene I’d glimpsed in Christopher’s memories of his life, but I sensed this
was longer ago.

“You made it,” Balthazar said.

I turned to see him standing next to me, wearing the same
kind of clothes; because he was closer, I could see that he wore trousers that
only came to his knees, with high boots that flared out slightly at the top.
His coat was belted, his cloak trimmed with fur. His hat — well, despite
everything, I had to smile. “You look like the star of the Thanksgiving
pageant.”

Til have you know, this was colonial high fashion in the
year 1640.” Balthazar readjusted his hat so that it sat at a slightly more
rakish angle.
s
More serious now, I said, “Is this
what you dream about? Your life?”

“Sometimes.” Balthazar pointed toward a distant light — the
glow of an oil lamp in the window of a small cottage. “Let’s see what we can
see.”

I walked with him through the woods until we reached the
clearing for the cabin. It was more primitive than I would have imagined,
though when I thought about it, this made sense; Balthazar had probably helped
his father build this house with their hands and whatever few tools they’d
possessed. Smoke curled up from a slightly crooked stone chimney, and the
single window was covered with some kind of waxy paper, rather than glass. A
shaggy dog slept next to the chimney, his back to the warmth. Balthazar smiled and
leaned down to pet him. “Hello, Fido.”

Fido didn’t stir. Maybe he couldn’t feel the touch, in
dreams.

Then, from inside, I heard a woman’s voice, sharp and angry.
“Your disobedience tasks us, Charity. “

“I’m ever so sorry, Mother.” Charity’s voice rang out,
clear, strong, and not sorry. “But I’m afraid I have to disobey you even more.”

I’d known this moment was coming from the time Balthazar had
first asked me to come into his dream, but that didn’t make it easier to face.
To judge by the dread in Balthazar’s eyes, he felt the same way.

Balthazar walked to the front door and pulled it open. There
I could see Charity, standing in a long, dark dress with a white apron, and a
small white cotton bonnet on her head. Her face was younger than I rememb — ered
— this was her a couple years before death, when she was only a child. In front
of her sat two people who were clearly Charity’s and Balthazar’s parents,
dressed in the same stark fashion as their children, their faces stern and
unamused.

Charity grinned, a too — adult expression on a face rounded
with baby fat. She tugged her bonnet from her head, exposing her fair curls. “I’m
not going to cover my head any longer. In fact, I don’t think I’ll cover any of
my body, ifl don’t want to.”

“The devil has gotten into you, my girl,” boomed their
father. He looked like an older, heavier version of Balthazar — but harder,
somehow.

Unpleasant. There was no love in him as he scolded his
daughter, only disapproval.

“That’s right!” Charity laughed out loud, glorying in
disobeying her stern parents. “Do you want to see what the devil can make me do
?
” To Balthazar, I whispered, “Was she always like this?”

“I used to think it was just rebellion,” he said. “But,
yeah. Charity was always looking for trouble, from the beginning.”

At that moment, Charity noticed us. Her face instantly
shifted from gleeful triumph to confusion. “What are you doing here? What is
she doing here?”

“Let me at her,” I whispered. After what she’d done to
Lucas, I felt like I could rip her apart.

“No,” Balthazar said, stepping between us. “She can hurt you
here. But for me, this is just a dream. She doesn’t have any power over me.”

just
like she’s attacked Lucas — he’s
attacking her.

Balthazar leaped forward, tackling Charity and sending them
both sprawling to the ground. Although their parents protested, neither
Balthazar nor Charity paid them any heed; they were dream phantoms only. This
fight was for real. She backhanded him savagely.
but
Balthazar managed to twist one of her arms behind her and thrust her toward the
fireplace. When her face was only a few inches from the flames, she started to
scream. “Stop it! Stop it! Balthazar, you’re hurting me
!
”

“And I hate it.” His voice shook. “You know that I do.”

“It wasn’t enough to kill me
!
” She
twisted violently in his grasp, trying to claw at him with her free arm, but
she couldn’t quite reach. The scene, terrible enough as it was, looked even
worse when I realized how childish and helpless Charity seemed. “Now you want
to torture me
?
”

“I want to leave you alone. Just like you want to leave me
alone. But you have to let Lucas go.”

Charity laughed, though her gold curls began to smolder. “He’s
mine. All mine. You loved her better than me, and she loved him better than
you. But she ‘ll never have him the way that I do.”

“You’re going to let Lucas go,” Balthazar repeated. “Or else
. ..
every
single night you
go into his dreams to torture him? I’ll come into your dreams and do the same
thing back to you.”

“You don’t have the right! Not after what you did to me
!
”

“If I could go back in time and kill myself rather than
turning you, I’d do it.” Balthazar was shaking now, either with the effort of
holding the 207 struggling Charity close to the fire or from pure emotion. “But
I’ve let guilt control me for too long. You’re a menace, Charity. You hunt, and
you kill, and I should have stopped you a long time ago.”

“By killing me
?
” Charity’s voice
had changed; real pain had slipped in. “Again?”

Balthazar didn’t answer. “You’re going to let Lucas go. You’re
going to stop invading his dreams forever. If you ever break your word — ever —
I promise you, I’ll know, and You’ll be sorry.”

Charity tried again to claw at him, but without the same
strength. I could smell burning hair. “It hurts. Balthazar, it’s hot.”

“You’re going to let Lucas go.” Balthazar never flinched,
but I saw the dampness shining in his eyes. Despite everything, he wanted to
protect his little sister — and despite that, he was willing to do this, for
Lucas and for me.

After a long moment, she whimpered, almost too quietly to
hear, “Okay.”

“Swear it.”

“I swear! Now stop
!
Just stop
!
”

Balthazar pulled Charity away from the fire and shoved her
toward the far corner. Soot had blackened her apron and her cheeks, where I
could see the outlines of tears. “This is for her, isn’t it?” She pointed at
me, her hand shaking. Her face was so terribly young. “Did you pick another
girl to save because you can’t save me
?
”

“I can’t save you,” he repeated dully. “But I love you,
Charity.”

She threw the fireplace brush at him and started to cry.
That was probably Charity’s version of “I love you, too.”

As she wept brokenly beside the fireplace, Balthazar rose and
walked out, past the now — mute, reactionless forms of his parents. I followed
him, saying nothing at first. He paused by the dog for a few more seconds,
watching it sleep.

When I dared to speak again, I said, “You didn’t have to do
that.”

“Yeah. I did.” Balthazar pulled his fur — trimmed cloak more
tightly around hims·elf. “Charity wouldn’t have stopped any other way.”

“Will she keep her word?”

“Yes. Strangely enough, when she actually makes a promise,
she keeps it.”

We began walking farther away from the house into the woods.
The air smelled so fresh and clean — there would have been no po
!Jution
yet, no 208 engines, no smog. “I know that was hard
for you,” I said. “To violate the bond in that way. To hurt her.” Balthazar
winced, but he said, “I did what I had to do. Maybe Lucas can find some peace
now.”

“Do you think so
?
”

“Maybe,” he said again, and I knew that Balthazar had seen
the same desperation in Lucas that I had.

Then he lifted his head, looking toward the distance, and a
small smile flickered upon his face. I followed his gaze toward another cottage
in the very far distance. “What’s that?”

“That’s where Jane lived.” It was the ·only time he’d ever
openly acknowledged his long — lost love to me. I’d never learned what had gone
wrong for them, but I knew that his passion for her had endured the four
hundred years from then until now.

Greatly daring. I said, “Do you want to go see her? I could
leave.”

“She would only be a dream.” Balthazar looked down at me
sadly. “I’m done with dreams.”

We took hands for a moment, the briefest of touches. Then I
willed myself up and out, toward waking.

When I appeared again in the dorm room, Balthazar remained
asleep. Now, though, he wasn’t dreaming; he just rested. I brushed a hand
against his dark curls in gratitude.

 The next day, a cold hush had fallen over the school.
Winter’s first hard frost had silvered the trees and the ground, but after last
night.
that
seemed less like nature taking its course
and more as though the wraiths had claimed the entire world for their own. The
vampire students, mostly petrified of the wraiths, kept to their rooms; even
the human students — usually calmer about these things, given that they came
from haunted homes — seemed disquieted by the possessions. A few kids had
already dropped out; we might not have to work too hard to get the rest of the
humans to leave. As I zipped around the school.
free
at last to move around without fear. I saw almost no one in the hallways and
heard no talking or laughter. Frozen, I thought. Frozen in place.

Mrs. Bethany remained in her carriage house. Once or twice I
saw her silhouetted against her windows. Although I doubted she was scared of
the wraiths.
or
of anything.
she
had apparently decided to remain in a structure that was completely safe from
ghostly invasion.

Had she discovered that her traps were missing yet
?
If so, she gave no sign. In the meantime.
her
absence from the school building gave us a brief window
to meet without worrying about being observed.

Everyone gathered in my parents’ apartments. Vic sprawled on
the sofa, a slight fuzz on his cheeks from where he’d failed to shave. Next to
him, Ranulf and Patrice drank cups of the coffee my mother had made for us.
Lucas took the chair at the farthest end of the room, like he thought my
parents might chuck him out at any second, but Mom brought him coffee, too. I
stayed near him, and Maxie dared to materialize right at the doorway, where
everybody could see her.

“Next weekend will be our best chance,” Mom said as she set
the coffeepot down. “Mrs. Bethany sometimes takes advantage of Riverton trips
to leave the school for a couple of days. We can encourage that.”

Vic brightened. “Yeah, and with the rest of the humans in
town on the Friday trip, less chance of us getting found out, right? Oh, man, I
just called people humans.”

“Actually, no,” Dad said. “The vampire students throw their
biggest parties of the year when the humans are gone. Which is he
!J
on the chaperones, but more to the point, makes it hard
for us to get something done. But if we wait until the next night, that
Saturday — a week from today Mrs. Bethany won ‘ t have returned yet, and we’ll
have freedom to work.”

Lucas and I shared a look. He said, “We were going to talk
to some former Black Cross friends of ours in Riverton.”

“Black Cross,” Mom muttered, in the same tone of voice she
used when she swore.

“It’s Raquel, Mom,” I said. “And Dana, who helped us get
away when we were nearly caught last year. They’re our friends, plus they’re
fighters, and they have a little experience in capturing wraiths. We should
make them a part of this. They could help, both with the wraiths and with
getting you and Dad and Lucas away afterward.”

Mom and Dad clearly weren’t sure what to think, but they
nodded. I turned to Maxie. “Okay, when the wraiths are freed, they’re going
to .
. .

freak
out.”

“You got it,” Maxie said. “We’re talking about fireworks,
like the fourth of July. Energy and light and frost going in every direction.
Bianca will 21o have to guide them where they need to go, whether that’s back
to their original homes or on to the next realm, whatever. Away from here — that’s
the main thing. I’11 help if I can.”