Perennial (19 page)

“Told you you’d like it,” he says, smiling.

“Was your hair that long when …?”

“When I died?” he says. “Yeah, but I always wore it tucked into this hat.”

“Why?” I say. “It’s gorgeous hair.”

“Thanks, but this is Beaconsfield,” he says. “It’s not exactly a friendly city to long-haired guys. I’ve lost count of how many jocks have given me dirty looks the past three days.”

“And your eyes,” I say. “They’re the most beautiful color I’ve ever seen. Why did you wear sunglasses all the time?”

“Think about it.”

It takes a few moments, but I finally figure it out.

“The drug,” I say. “Perennial makes your eyes all glossy and bloodshot.”

“Exactly,” William says, inspecting his arms now. “But the dragons worried me most. Even though I never went to Beaconsfield High when I was alive, and it’s been two years since
anybody
has seen me, I knew I had to hide the tattoos. It was too risky to show them.”

“And your parents?” I say. “Where are they?”

“I lied about Eastland but not about China,” he says. “My parents have been working in Shanghai since shortly after I died. They needed to get far away from Beaconsfield.”

“And the truck we took to Oval City?” I raise my eyebrows and rub the back of my sore neck. “The truck that crashed and gave me whiplash. If it wasn’t your grandfather’s, then where did you get it?”

“Right,” William says, rubbing his palms together and shrugging. “I sort of borrowed it from the parking lot of a liquor store.”

“You stole the truck?”

“Borrowed. I returned it after I dropped you off. Damaged, yes, but insurance will take care of that.” William clears his throat. “Look, I’ve done it before, okay? It’s amazing how many drivers still keep their vehicles running when they need to make a quick stop. I look at it as teaching them a lesson.” He pauses. “That’s the first time I ever crashed one, by the way.”

Maybe it’s the stress of the past few days and the enormity of what lies ahead of me over the next thirty-plus hours, but for some reason I find the truck story trivial and funny, so I start laughing. It begins as a giggle, but I soon lose control and break into hysterical laughter. William joins in too, and before I know it I’m back in his arms, the two of us laughing and managing to put aside the harsh realities facing us. I feel wonderful, normal, and innocent for the first time in days, and I decide to preserve the mood for as long as possible.

“Take this off,” I say, grabbing the hat and throwing it onto the porch. “I want to see that incredible hair for as long as possible.” I run a palm across the side of his pale face and through his wavy hair. “Let’s ditch these while we’re at it.” I reach for his sunglasses and toss them onto the baseball cap. “That’s better,” I say, staring into his lustrous eyes. “It should be illegal to cover eyes like yours.”

“Wow,” William says, planting a soft kiss on my lips. “Who’s being aggressive now?”

He pulls me against him and kisses me deeply, William placing his hands on either side of my face as our mouths open. A wonderful heat floods my body. I wrap my hands around his powerful shoulders, enjoying his minty breath and soapy smell.

“I just remembered something funny,” I say, pulling back.

“Funny enough to stop kissing me?” He smiles.

“Just for a second,” I say. “The mint and soapy smells.”

“What are you talking about?”

“When you were kissing me in the last dream, there was a moment where I figured you and Lewis must use the same soap and toothpaste.” I start laughing again. “Now I know they—or, I mean, you—do.” I close my eyes and shake my head. “It’s still hard to believe it’s you.”

His lips are on mine before I can open my eyes, William’s soft, moist tongue exploring my own. We press closer. I feel his strong thighs against me, his fingertips traveling lightly down my spine and settling low on my waist.

“Mmm,” I whisper. “So what else can living ghosts do?”

“Maybe we should go inside and find out.”

“It’s tempting, but I can’t risk my dad coming home.”

“There might be a way around that.” He kisses my neck. “Can I show you something else I think you’ll like?”

“Anything,” I say. “As long as you promise to keep kissing me when you’re done.”

“Deal.” He steps back and takes my hands. “Close your eyes again.”

I smile and close my eyes, but as soon as I do so, I realize my hands are free. Then I hear William say, “Now open them. Fast.”

I open my eyes and look around. William is gone. Vanished. The porch is empty, just his baseball cap and sunglasses lying on the concrete.

“William, where are you?” I say, holding a hand over my mouth to muffle my laughter. “How did you do that?”

“Look across the street, Alix.”

It’s definitely William’s voice, and he sounds like he’s right next to me, but there’s still no William in sight. Scratching my head, I look toward the other side of Maple Grove and spot him on the lawn across the street, William standing there and waving at me with an irresistible grin on his perfect face.

“William!” I whisper. “Can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear.”

The proximity of his voice makes me flinch.

“Get back here before the neighbors see you.”

“Okay,” he says. “Are you looking at me right now?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Cool. Check this out.”

He’s gone again. Poof, William disappearing right in front of my eyes, leaving me staring at the finely manicured lawn.

“Hey, stop it,” I whisper, my head on a swivel as I search for him. “Where are you now?”

His voice: “You know that old belief about ghosts being invisible and able to travel through walls and all that?”

“Yes,” I whisper. “Stop it. Where are you?”

“Well,” he says, laughing. “It’s true!”

“William!” I spin around, looking but knowing I won’t see him until he decides to become visible. “If anybody saw what you just did, you’ll have a lot of explaining to do. Stop showing off and get back here.”

Three loud knocks from the closed front door startle me. I step back off the porch and stare at the door.

“William, are you inside my—?”

“House?” he says. “I might be.”

He delivers three more quick knocks, which are followed by the sound of the deadbolt coming unlocked and then his adorable laughter flooding my ears. I shake my head and groan, but I’m having the time of my life, and William knows it. I open the door and enter an empty foyer and living room.

“Okay, William,” I say, hands on my hips as I look around. “I’m inside. Where are you?”

His voice is in my ear, but he’s nowhere in sight.

“Take a guess.”

I glance toward the kitchen, but then I hear a footstep above me. I look up and smile.

“Are you in my bedroom?”

“No, Alix. I’m in
my
bedroom.” He laughs.

“Good one,” I say, my heart bouncing as I walk toward the staircase. “But technically it’s
my
bedroom now.”

“True,” he says. “How about a compromise?”

I ascend a few steps. “I’m listening.”

“Why don’t we call it
our
bedroom,” he says. “At least until the end of tomorrow.”

“Hmm.” I smile. “I think I like the sound of that.”

I reach the top of the stairs and walk down the hallway.

“It does have a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” he says. “
Our
bedroom. Alix and William’s bedroom.”

I open the bedroom door. William is in my bed, lying on his side and facing me, with a gentle smile on his face. He has no shirt or shoes on, just his pants. He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“Hi,” I say, grinning as I walk toward him. A nervous excitement rockets through me. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Likewise.” He moves over to make room for me. “For the record, this bed is ten times more comfortable than mine ever was.”

I sit beside him and run my palms over his dragons. My heart feels like it might explode.

“Now it’s
twenty
times more comfortable,” he says.

“William?”

“Yes?”

I bring my legs up onto the mattress and lie beside him.

“Do me a favor and don’t disappear for at least the next hour, okay?”

“That sounds promising.” He kisses me softly. “Alix?”

“What?”

“You might want to put the knife on the floor.”

“Shh,” I say. “Stop talking.”

I close my eyes and let William take the lead.

William stays for three hours. We do many things. Not
everything
, but let’s just say that I learn a lot and can’t imagine being that close with anybody else. I manage to set all of my troubles aside for the first two hours and focus my attention on him, amazed with his beauty, gentleness, and uncanny ability to do everything just right. But reality keeps creeping in during the third and final hour, and I struggle with the harsh fact that the ghost I love will vanish forever tomorrow night.

“I have to leave now,” he finally says.

We’re lying on our backs in bed.
Our
bed. A slight sheen of sweat covers our bodies. I prop myself onto my side and let my fingers explore his chest and stomach.

“Why now?” I say. “My dad will probably work late again, and you know how to make a fast getaway even if he does walk in.”

Staring at the ceiling, William says, “We both have deadlines. There are things I have to do. Important things I can’t tell you about.”

“Because they’ll break Vagabond’s rules?”

He doesn’t say anything, so I interpret his silence as a yes.

“Let me ask you a question,” I say. “You crossed over through a Fire portal in Oval City. Do you have to go back through it
before
I figure out how to destroy it?”

“No,” William says, leaning on his elbow and looking at me. “My energy simply disappears. I’ll vanish tomorrow at midnight.” He pauses. “Hopefully I’ll know who murdered me, and my soul will be with Light forever.” I watch his Adam’s apple rise and fall as he swallows. “I’d rather not think about the other possible outcome.”

“Ugh,” I say, knocking the back of my head against my pillow. “Why’d you have to bring that up? Seriously, what if I fail? Let’s talk about that. How am I supposed to keep on living if I fail this test, knowing you’ll basically end up in hell for eternity, Face will win and get away with double murder, and Perennial will continue to ruin lives and gain souls for the Army of Fire?”

“Double murder?” he says. “And what do you mean by Perennial gaining souls for Fire?”

“You don’t know?”

He shakes his head, William giving me a serious look now, so I tell him about my visit with Mary Watkins and my belief that Face murdered Mr. Watkins to avoid getting busted by the Feds. I also tell him about Vagabond’s theory that Face’s ultimate goal with Perennial is to possess as many human souls as possible.

“Unbelievable,” William says, rubbing his temples as if he has a headache. “This is way bigger than I imagined.” He crawls over me, gets out of bed, and slides his shirt on. “Try not to think about where I’ll end up,” he says. “I’m the one who made the deal, not you.”

“Easy for you to say.” I stand and grab his shoulders. “I’m in love with you, William. I always think about you and always will.”

He pulls me close and kisses the top of my head, William saying, “I love you too, Alix. Please don’t doubt yourself. You have incredible gifts. Use them.” He kisses my forehead. “I have to go.”

“I know,” I say, lost in his eyes. “When will I see you next?”

“Are you going to Oval City tonight?”

“No. Tomorrow’s when it will happen. Friday. It’s just something I feel. Why do you ask?”

“Because you’re not going back there without me.”

“But you’re not allowed to help me with—”

“I know the rules,” he says. “It’s okay. I can be with you as long as I don’t help you.” He smiles. “Besides, I really want to borrow another truck. Or maybe a sports car this time.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“I’m scared, William.
Really
scared.”

“I know.” He looks over my shoulder, William thinking hard about something. “Try this. When you’re afraid, imagine your mom and how incredible it’s going to feel to see and talk with her again.”

I stare at him and smile. “Thank you,” I say. “That helps. You’re pretty incredible yourself.”

We share a long kiss that makes me want to get back in bed with him.

Seconds later I feel neither his lips nor the light pressure of his powerful body against my chest and legs. I open my eyes. The bedroom is empty. The only traces of William are the slight smells of soap and mint.

Whoever or whatever created Blade used an ancient form of writing called cuneiform on the shimmering handle. It takes less than two minutes for me to find an image match online via the search phrase “ancient writing.” Scrolling the image results, I see dozens of ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs before coming across several clay tablets full of the familiar golf tee–like symbols.

I learn that cuneiform is one of the world’s earliest writing systems, dating back about five thousand years to Sumer, the first Mesopotamian city-state, in present-day Iraq. Cuneiform means “wedge-shaped,” which is a perfect description of the triangular symbols and their accompanying straight lines. Sumerian scribes wrote on wet clay tablets using a reed stylus, then placed the tablets in the desert sun to dry. The hot, dry climate acted as a great preserver, which is why so many cuneiform tablets have survived. Of course, this knife is made of silver and steel, so there’s no way Blade is anywhere near five thousand years old, but I need to know what the cuneiform means, so I search “Sumerian cuneiform alphabet” and quickly find a translation guide.

There are dozens of symbols on Blade. The alphabet-translation image on the screen isn’t exactly perfect, so it takes time and a lot of squinting to match the lines and triangles with their correct letters. I jot the letters down but get nothing but nonsensical garbage on my first two translation attempts:

1. AMJOTNEIRR

2. AMIVXEERIR

Frustrated, I take a break and rub my eyes.

“Come on,” I say to Blade, which is lying on the desk in front of me. “If you refuse to show up in pictures, at least let me figure out what it says on your handle.”

I stare at the two meaningless strands of letters and begin shifting my gaze between them and Blade. I decide to focus on the letters I’m most confident I translated correctly. There’s no doubt about the first letter,
A
. I definitely nailed that one. The next several are difficult, though, but I feel good about the last letter,
R
.

It’s at that point that my mouth feels like it hits the floor.

“No way,” I say. “There’s no way.”

Heart racing, I look at the second letter. I thought it was
M
on both translations, but now I see that I overlooked one of the horizontal lines. It’s not
M
. It’s
L
.

It doesn’t take long from there. It’s like being on a real-life version of
Wheel of Fortune
.

“Pat, I’d like to solve the puzzle,” I say, smiling at the thought of Mom’s all-time favorite TV show.

Letter three is definitely the
I
and not the
J
I’d guessed in round one.

ALI_ _ _ _ _ _ R

The
O
and
V
I wrote as the fourth letter are similar to each other in cuneiform, but now I notice that the fourth letter on Blade’s handle is actually a cuneiform
X
.

ALIX

I don’t bother looking back at my remaining original written guesses. Using only Blade’s handle and the translation guide, I confirm that the final six symbols match perfectly with “Keener.”

ALIX KEENER

The knife was made for me.

“Unbelievable,” I say, grabbing it and holding it in front of me. “No wonder you’re a perfect fit for my hand. Now I see why Vagabond wanted
me
to decipher the symbols.” Then I have a troubling thought: “But if you were made for me, how did Face ever come into possession of you?”

I don’t have time to think about an answer to that question, because the sound of breaking glass from somewhere on the first floor instantly puts my senses on high alert. I stand and listen, hearing nothing further. Still, I’m not crazy. Something broke below me, and I know I’m in for a fight when Blade begins spinning clockwise on my desk and stops when the handle faces me.

“Here we go again, my friend,” I say, grinding my teeth and preparing for battle. “Here we go again.”

I extend my arm toward Blade. The knife flies three feet under its own power, the handle landing in my hand as softly as a butterfly. I smile, unworried by the fact I’m starting to enjoy demon slaying. Then I saunter out of my bedroom and down the hallway toward the stairs.