Elegy (28 page)

“I know that Serena is part of your plan for me,” I said hurriedly. “And I beg you to reconsider.”

Belial grinned again, but this time I could see a trace of respect in the smile. “You are a clever one, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” I said, bowing my head so that I didn’t seem prideful. “But don’t you think I could be useful too? That I could serve you, far better than Kade or Eli or that thing out there in the hallway? I’ve outsmarted two out of three of them—don’t you think that counts for something?”

Now the murmurs flew so wildly between the demons that they sounded like buzzing bees. After a long, obviously contentious pause—during which Belial conferred with his hive-mind companions—he turned back to me and smirked.

“Perhaps you would be useful, in the position we originally chose for you. But we cannot trust you; just remember what you did to poor Kade.”

My heart wrenched inside my chest, but I kept my face impassive. Earnest.

“Let me prove myself to you,” I offered. “Let me kill someone and then drag their soul here, to you.”

Now,
that
intrigued the demon. He raised one eyebrow, grinning. But then he shook his head with feigned sadness. “How could one soul matter, Amelia? What would some stranger who you pluck off the street prove?”

“What if it wasn’t a stranger?” I countered, barely speaking above a whisper now. “What if I killed my own mother?”

Chapter
THIRTY-FOUR

I
don’t believe that you would do such a thing,” Belial said, sneering down at me. “That you even could.”

But despite the demon’s words, he didn’t look convinced one way or the other. In fact, he seemed to appraise me with a mixture of doubt and . . . maybe respect?

“Make me a wraith,” I suggested. “Just for the killing. That way I won’t have any choice—I’ll have to do what I promised. Then, if I don’t deliver, you can make me stay a wraith.”

“Or destroy you anyway,” another demon hissed from the jury box. I gulped but said nothing. Belial considered these options for a moment and then smiled.

“What have we got to lose?” He laughed, turning slightly to his companions so that they could share his amusement. “This sounds like an interesting night’s entertainment—one we haven’t had in a long time. So shall we agree to it?”

“Wait!” I called, holding up my hand like a child in school. “I do have
one
condition.”

Now, Belial looked
less
entertained. I could tell that he was about to deny whatever I said, so I spilled my request in a rush of words.

“All I ask is that you bring Gabrielle Callioux, Eli Rowland, and the
real
Serena Taylor here, so that if you decide to destroy me, then you destroy them and my mother as well. If I go, they all go.”

Each of the demons balked for a moment and then began to laugh uproariously.

“What an inspired suggestion!” Belial crowed. “How on earth did you come up with it?”

I shrugged as best I could in my groveling position. “If I can’t survive in some form, why should they?”

I could tell from the demons’ subsequent laughs that I’d just spoken a language they understood well: the language of callousness; of selfishness; of cruelty for sport. If I told the demons the truth—that I wanted to spare the people I loved an eternity of torture in this place—then my appeal would surely have been denied. But stating the request as I had, I’d captured their interest further.

After a few more seconds of amused deliberation with his companions, Belial faced me again.

“All right, Amelia Ashley—we will make you a wraith for the sole purpose of killing your own mother and bringing her soul to us here, in this room. Then, when you return, we’ll decide what to do with you.”

Once again, I lowered my gaze to the floor. “Thank you. Thank you for this chance.”

I heard them laughing, mocking my decision. So I spared another glance upward, just in time to see Belial flap his hand at me dismissively.

Abruptly, my ears began to ring. I sat upright and tried to clap my hands over my ears but found that I’d lost control of my arms. They wouldn’t move, no matter how much I ordered them to. Suddenly, I couldn’t move my legs, either. Or my mouth or my eyes or anything else.

I’d lost control of my own body.

That wasn’t to say that I’d stopped moving. On the contrary, some outside force had animated me into standing, turning around, and walking like some wooden soldier into the hallway. Evidently, a mere wave of the demon’s hand had turned
me
into an automaton.

As I crossed into the hall, I could see the old reaper waiting for me with a condescending sneer. His expression shifted into one of astonishment, however, when I stopped just a few inches past him and then rose several feet into the air.

While I hovered there, immobile, a black shadow crawled across one wall of the hallway to envelop me. Although I could tell that it had obscured my entire body, I could see out of the shadow as clearly as if it were glass. Of course, that didn’t mean that I’d regained even an ounce of control. I was still the puppet of whatever force was manipulating my body right now: fully aware of my actions, but unable to stop them.

The shadow held me in the air, floating inertly for a few more seconds. Then, without warning, it rocketed me down the hallway. I flew so fast that I wanted to scream in terror. I even tried, but the sound died in my throat.

I had no idea how fast or far I’d flown when the shadow jerked me to an abrupt stop and then my body shot upward, toward the ceiling. I thought that I would slam into it—the butt of some demonic joke, after all. But just before I crashed into it, the ceiling parted like a storm cloud, allowing me to pass through without harm.

I continued to shoot upward through an utter, impenetrable blackness. I wanted to look down, to see how far below me the hallway was, but I couldn’t; my eyes stayed fixed on some unseen target, high above me.

I didn’t have to wait long to find out where I was headed. Without warning, I burst through the darkness and into a glittering, purplish space that could only be the netherworld. In my peripheral vision, I could just make out the edge of High Bridge, looming to my right.

Of its own volition, my wraith body continued to swoop high into the night sky, shrieking as it did so. I couldn’t help but marvel at the sound that tore out of me—it was so plaintive, so desperate, that I wondered how I’d missed the agonized quality of the wraiths’ shrieks before now.

Finally, my wraith body reached the peak of its ascent and then arced back around to dive. On the surface of the bridge, I could just make out a group of figures: still-glowing Seers and their friends, as well as a handful of luminescent ghosts. I didn’t have to tell the shadow which figure to target; it was already making a sharp beeline for my mother, who looked as though she could hardly stay on her feet any longer.

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

W
hen 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.

Immediately, all three scrambled toward my mother and me like we were the last drop of water in the desert. First, Serena collided with my mother, wrapping her in such a ferocious hug that we had to drop our linked hands. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, since Gaby drew me into a similarly all-encompassing embrace. Eli just fell at my feet, touching the toe of my boot as if he felt that was all he really deserved.

“It’s you,” Gaby breathed, already sniffling back tears. “You
found
me.”

“Shhh, I’m here,” I said loudly. But as we held each other, I spun us around so that her back faced the demons. I ran one hand across her shoulders in a comforting motion. Then,
very
carefully, I used my other hand to pull some Transfer Powder from my pocket and fold a portion of it into Gaby’s palm.

“When I tell you to,” I whispered, “swallow this and then try to do whatever it is that I’m doing, okay?”

She nodded imperceptibly and then released me so that I could crouch down next to Eli. Before I touched him, I glanced back up at my mother. I could see that she was holding a similar conversation with Serena, slipping her the powder as subtly as possible.

Knowing that it was now or never, I gently placed my empty palm on Eli’s shoulder. He flinched under my touch, cowering so badly that he shook. The demons noticed his behavior and laughed, which only made him drop lower to the ground.

“Eli,” I murmured, still touching him, “Eli, look at me. Please.”

When he finally peered up, I was stunned to see that the rims of his eyes were so red, they looked raw. If those eyes were any indication, he’d been crying nonstop for
months
.

“I’m sorry,” he moaned, tearing up once again. “Amelia, I’m so sorry. For you—for everyone I trapped in here.”

Slipping my powder-free hand beneath his elbow, I hefted him upward so that we were both on our knees, facing each other. Now that his body blocked mine from the demons’ view, I cupped his hand and meted out about half the powder I still had in my palm. This meant that I had very little left for myself—just enough for one last gulp.

Eli frowned in obvious confusion, but he took the powder without comment.

“I forgive you,” I said loudly. “I hope you can swallow that forgiveness. Internalize it, you know?”

Understanding dawned on Eli’s face and he rose with me so that we both stood now. I opened my arms, signaling that we should all come together for a kind of group hug. After they’d done so, I hissed, “When I glow—you do it, too.”

Then I stepped forward from the pack and faced the demons.

“Thank you for letting them stand here,” I said, using a far more commanding voice than I had earlier. “Now, have you made a decision about me?”

Belial did not miss my new, insolent tone. He arched one eyebrow questioningly.

“I’ll have to confer with my fellow judges first.”

“No,” I said firmly. “I want to know now.”

In the jury box, the demons began to murmur angrily. Belial peered back at them before turning his black eyes upon me.

“What gives you the right to make a demand of us?” he asked.

“You bargained with me,” I insisted. “My mom’s soul, for my future.”

The demon let out a shrill, skin-crawling laugh, as did his companions. “I said we would
consider
your future. The option of destruction is still very much on the table.”

“That’s not fair!” I shrieked, forcing my voice into a higher octave than it had ever reached.

My glow erupted across my skin—dim at first, but gaining intensity as I grew genuinely angry. I’d expected the demons to double-cross me; in fact, their treachery was integral to my plan. But that didn’t mean I had to
like
it.

Seeing my glow, hearing my shriek, Belial actually winced but he soon recovered, giving me a glare that could have melted titanium.

“
Silence
,” he boomed, seeming to double in size. He suddenly towered over me, casting sinister shadows across the room. “Return to your companions while we confer.”

I started to shudder uncontrollably. Although I’d been trying to fool them earlier, I certainly didn’t need to feign terror now. I hurried to rejoin my mother and my friends, trying to not shiver as I stood closer to them.

“Now. Swallow now,” I hissed. Each of my fellow ghosts ducked down, hiding their heads as they ingested the Transfer Powder I’d given them; I did the same. When we’d finished, I motioned that we should spread out, take one another’s hands, and stand in a unified line: Serena, my mother, me, Gaby, and, lastly, Eli.

Standing there with my small crew, I began to pray to whoever might listen.
Please,
I whispered in my mind,
please give them your holy fire. Just once. And just enough.

When Belial turned back around, wearing a beatific smile, I could see my companions stiffen in anticipation. “Wait,” I whispered when I sensed their restless tension. “Wait.”

Each of these ghosts had suffered, but none of them had ever faced
anything
like this. Still, they couldn’t act without ruining everything. Not yet.

As Belial continued to smile silently, I felt an electric frisson of worry. If the demonic tribunal really did decide to make me a soul reaper or—worse—a wraith, then all was lost; everything I’d had to do to Joshua, my mother, my living friends and my dead ones . . . all of it would be wasted.

But when the rest of the demons stood, too, rising like a real jury, triumph surged within me.

“Amelia Elizabeth Ashley,” Belial pronounced. “We have decided. We have hereby determined that you are too great a threat to be allowed to roam free as a reaper. Moreover, we do not relish the idea of you occupying your own corner of
our
world. So we will grant the request you did not actually make: we will end your soul, as you ended Kade LaLaurie’s. And, as you
did
ask, we will also end the souls of those who stand beside you now.”

“No,” I pleaded, faking my tone but not my tears. “You can’t do this to us—not after I killed my mother for you.”

“That was your mistake,” he taunted softly. “Not ours.”

“H-how?” I stuttered, willing my glow to burn just a watt or two brighter. “How will you end all of us?”

The demons appraised me for a moment, and then their leader grinned. Obviously, Belial had received a clear message from the demonic hive mind—a message that I hoped to God worked in my favor.

“Fire,” he breathed. “Your existence will burn out in the very fire of which you’re so fond.”

I tried not to smile. I also tried not to cry, especially when five purple-hued trees appeared, standing tall behind each of us ghosts. Still gripping tightly to Gaby’s and my mother’s hands, I spun around and saw that a small pile of kindling lay beneath each tree. Five wraiths waited next to the trees, each holding a weirdly blue-flamed torch.

I knew instantly what the trees and torches signified: the demons intended to burn us at the stake, like witches.

“N-no,” I stuttered again, partly in genuine horror. “Please, anything but this.”

“This grows tiresome,” a female demon called out from the jury box. “Let the entertainment begin.”