The Alchemy of Forever (14 page)

The bells are still ringing when Nicole sucks in a deep breath. “I can’t believe you, Kailey,” she hisses. “You are so manipulative.”

I’m taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about!” A flush rises beneath her freckles, and she tosses her hair back angrily. “First you tell me to stay the hell away from your brother—you tell me you couldn’t stand it if one of your friends went out with him, and
then
you practically shove him toward Leyla.”

“Um—” I don’t know what to say, but she keeps going.

“And now you’re toying with Noah, just because you know I like him! You’ve known him for years and you’ve barely given him the time of day—you wouldn’t even talk to him at school. And now that he likes
me
you can’t stand it! You
always
have to be the center of attention, don’t you? But you only want what you can’t have. It’s completely obvious you’re just stringing him along to hurt me.”

I’m stung. I feel like she slapped me in the face. Does Noah really like Nicole?

“You don’t need to say anything, Kailey,” she continues, moving closer to me. “We’re not even friends anymore, if we ever really were. So I don’t care what you have to say. But—” Her eyes flash. “Stay the hell away from Noah. Or else.”

Before I can respond, she turns on her heel and leaves, the bells swinging wildly as the door slams shut.

“Ow, Kailey, careful!” Bryan cries.

“Sorry!” I exclaim, realizing I was driving the point of the eyeliner roughly into his skin. I’ve been distracted ever since Nicole yelled at me in the antiques shop and laid claim on Noah.

“No worries.” He looks at himself in the mirror and grins in delight. “That’s disgusting. I love it.”

I stand back and admire my work. “Gruesome.” Armed with a palette of theatrical makeup and prosthetic pieces, I’ve made a horrific mess of Bryan’s face. His forehead and nose appear to be rotting, and an eyeball springs out from one socket, melting into his cheek. I know Leyla will swoon.

“More blood?” he asks, furrowing his brow.

“I think you’re good.”

“Not even just a little bit more? Here, next to this gash. It looks a little empty.” He cranes his head to get a closer look at the realistic-looking wound in his neck.

I sigh. “Okay, but then you’re done. This is my masterpiece, after all,” I remind him, dribbling fake blood down his neck. He watches with satisfaction as it stains the collar of his shirt.

“I’m lucky to have such a talented artist for a sister,” he says.

“Thanks,” I says softly, feeling a pang. “Have fun at the party. Say hi to everyone for me.”

“I will,” he promises.

We head to the living room, where Mr. and Mrs. Morgan are drinking cider and handing out candy to the miniature witches and pirates and princesses who ring the bell. I give Bryan a thumbs-up as he leaves, but I’m not feeling very festive.

In the backyard the night is cloudless and bright, the moon’s round face peering down unabated and reassuring. But the wind obliges the need for spookiness, stirring the wind chimes into a frenzy and urging the tree branches to claw at the sky.

The garden is strung with fairy lights and a strange, warm wind pushes me toward the redwood tree, dark and looming over the yard like a guardian spirit. I climb up into the tree house that looked so new in the Morgans’ photo album, but now is rotting away. The roof has fallen away, but the base is still strong. I lie on my back and watch the sky, the stars only faint smudges next to the bright, beaming moon.

They say Halloween is a time when the veil over the world of the spirits is thinnest, when ghosts can cross over and whisper in our ears or touch us on the cheek. I want to believe this—and I don’t. After all, I am a ghost myself. But I am also the creator of ghosts, the girl who can unpin your soul from its moorings and set it free to drift. But where do these souls go? I am no closer to knowing.

All the girls whose souls I’ve taken stream through my mind. I never knew most of their names. I picture each life I’ve led like beads strung together on a necklace to make me who I am, the sum of all these jewels. And each shiny bead turned to a puff of smoke, a necklace made of ghosts, one bead for one lost girl.
Where are you now
,
Kailey?
I snuggle into the collar of her peacoat—I can still smell the faint traces of her jasmine perfume. The idea that she’s still here, watching me live her life, fills me with despair. I don’t believe she is, but I whisper anyway: “I’m sorry, Kailey.”

If Cyrus were here, he’d shake his head in disgust. He doesn’t believe in an afterlife—that’s just a fairy tale, he said, these existential questions are a waste of time. He would scorn Kailey’s fantastical drawings, her magical creatures. For him, all magic can be explained by science.

Despite the warm wind that buffets the boards of Kailey’s tree house, I shiver. The life that Cyrus gave me was unlike anything I could have dreamed, back in that torchlit garden. I am sad for that girl. I am sad for Cyrus, too. My bright, blue-eyed alchemist, who wanted nothing more than love and scientific truth. But something snapped in him when he became Incarnate. Something went wrong. The cruelty must have been there all along, but it was amplified by centuries of unchecked power.

I’m lost in my thoughts when I hear a board creak. I’m on my feet instantly, looking around in the darkness. I let out my breath when I see it’s only Noah. “You scared me!” I say, sitting back down on the tree house floor. “You’re way too good at sneaking up on me,” I add.

“I’m sorry—Your mom told me you were out here,” he says, with a rueful smile. “It
is
Halloween, though, so I think I should get a pass.”

“You’re forgiven,” I say, relaxing slightly. He sits down across from me, his hands inside his sweatshirt pockets. The wind kicks up again, encouraging the garden’s chimes to dance fitfully, their silvery peals drifting up toward us. I feel taut, like a violin’s string.

“I thought you’d be at the party,” I say, watching his face, the way the branches cast their moving shadows across his cheeks.

“I was. But it was stupid. I hate costumes,” he says. “Just a bunch of people looking for attention.”

“Was Nicole there?” I ask, biting my lip.

“Yeah.” He looks away.

I take a deep breath. “She likes you, you know.”

“I know.” He fiddles with his shoelaces. “I think I may have accidentally given her the wrong idea. She’s . . . not really my type.”

“What is your type?” The words are out of my mouth before I can take them back.

At this, he looks up slowly, his eyes searching mine. He chuckles softly. “Well, until recently, I wouldn’t say I had one.”

My heart starts to pound. I want him to kiss me. I want his hands to tangle in my hair, to feel his beating human heart against my stolen one. The thought is unbidden, but I can’t say it’s brand new. I also can’t say it doesn’t scare me.

“What does that mean?” I ask quietly, almost in a whisper.

He smiles. “Kailey, it’s pretty obvious.”

“Is it?” I feel my mouth wanting to follow his lead, but I push the smile away.

He hunches his shoulders, digs deeper in his pockets. “We’ve been friends for a long time. Even though you haven’t always been the nicest to me. It’s okay, I don’t care.”

I don’t take my eyes off him. “I don’t believe you.”

“Something’s changed about you. Something . . .” His voice trails off, and he pulls his hands out of his pockets. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he continues. “And I only hope I didn’t just screw up our friendship by telling you that.”

“You didn’t,” I say softly, finally returning his gaze. His eyes lock on mine, and the wind stops for just a few seconds. But sometimes seconds can last a very long time.

And then.

And then he kisses me, and my life slides into focus. Since I am strong, I do not worry about losing control like I did when I was trying to save Kailey. Instead, I close my eyes and picture the wind moving through nighttime flowers, the moon casting beams on his thick-browed turquoise eyes, the ever-present hood that hides his crow-black hair.

I feel his hand move hesitantly to my cheek, and I touch his arm. I may only be a spirit, but my lips are warm against his. The ancient redwood tree sighs contentedly.

I pull back and regard his face. It’s different. I realize that his eyes are usually so sad, that his casual demeanor hides the sadness. But now they’re not. He touches my cheek and says, “We have time,” then lies back to look at the stars. I lie beside him, quietly, smiling in the darkness.

Time.
College, Kailey
, Mrs. Morgan said. Two years away. To an Incarnate, it’s nothing, it’s insignificant. But when you have people who care about you, who you’re excited about, each day becomes significant.

Maybe, just maybe, I can stay here until then.

I wake up the next morning with a smile on my face. I want to stay in bed and think about Noah, but I go out to the kitchen and eat breakfast. Bryan’s not here, and Mrs. Morgan reminds me he has early football practice this morning. That means it will just be Noah and me in the car. Little jeweled butterflies rise in my stomach, and I can’t suppress my smile. “
You’re
in a good mood,” observes Mr. Morgan, amused.

I throw on my usual outfit of jeans and a sweater, but I’m not satisfied. I look boring, not like a girl who was kissed in the Halloween wind. In the back of Kailey’s closet, I find a white crocheted dress that makes me feel like I ought to be making daisy chains in a soft-focus meadow. Better. I even put on lip gloss and mascara. I definitely don’t need blush. I pick up the bottle of Kailey’s jasmine perfume, but decide against it. That belongs to Kailey. I look up at the sound of the doorbell.

“Kailey!” Mrs. Morgan’s voice drifts down the hall. “Noah’s here!” I can hear her mix of confusion and glee—Noah usually just pulls up to the curb and waits for Bryan and me to run out. I peek out the window and see his car, but he’s not in it.
Don’t blush!

I grab Kailey’s leather messenger bag and force myself to walk slowly out to the foyer. Noah’s standing awkwardly next to Mrs. Morgan, holding a cup from Peet’s. Instead of the ever-present hoodie, he’s wearing a corduroy blazer, which highlights his broad shoulders..

“That’s a nice dress, honey,” says Mrs. Morgan. “You should wear it more often.”

“Yeah, you look pretty,” says Noah, and I feel the first tingles of heat on my cheeks. He holds out the cup.

“Th-thanks,” I stammer, accepting the coffee from him and taking a sip.

“Morning, Noah,” booms Mr. Morgan, folding his newspaper under his arm and shaking Noah’s hand.

“We should go,” I say.

Mr. and Mrs. Morgan follow us out the door and stand on the porch watching as we get into the car. Noah opens the passenger side door for me, and I start giggling. “You don’t have to do that,” I tell him.

“Right. You’re one of those independent girls.” He sits in the driver’s seat and turns on the engine.

“Have fun at school!” calls Mr. Morgan, sporting a knowing smile.

“Drive,” I tell Noah urgently, under my breath. “This is seventeen different flavors of awkward!”

We peel away and burst out laughing together. He glances over. “You are so red right now.” This just makes it worse. He pushes play on his iPod, and music fills the car and the silence. I feel wound up and nervous, but in a good way. This is definitely new territory.

We get to school and climb out of the car, and I realize I’m expecting him to run off to class by himself like he usually does. But he’s waiting for me. We walk a few steps when he takes my hand in his. His fingers are warm and dry and strong. At first we’re out of step, but we relax into each other’s pace.

“Good morning, Kailey
and
Noah,” Leyla chirps with obvious delight, taking in the sight of the two of us holding hands.

Noah nods, a big smile on his face. The bell rings, so we don’t stop walking, but I turn around to look at her. Her eyebrows are raised, but she looks happy for me.
Nice,
she mouths silently.

We pass Madison and Chantal, both of them beaming at us. I hear them erupt into discussion as we walk away.

Nicole spots us and glares, shaking her head. But not even her barbed comments or icy looks can penetrate my happiness. Noah isn’t in love with her. He likes me.

We walk into the biology classroom and I stop in my tracks. I feel the blood draining from my face and my heart thudding thickly in my ears. I drop Noah’s hand, feeling a cold sweat break out on my forehead, my chest.

There’s a figure standing at the front of the room, his back to us. A familiar silhouette and platinum hair I’d recognize anywhere. He’s writing something on the whiteboard.

No. It can’t be.

The man turns around, and I feel my veins turn to ice. I am a butterfly, right at the moment it flies into a net. He straightens his tie and brushes off the forearm of his immaculate black suit. “Good morning, class,” he says, with a brilliant smile. “I’m Mr. Shaw, your substitute teacher.”

That smile, those eyes watching all of us, that sweep over me, calculating, watching, missing nothing. A smile I never thought I’d see again.

It’s Cyrus.

Somehow, I make it to my seat. Despite my shock, my hands aren’t shaking as they dutifully unzip my backpack and pull out my notes and textbook.

Cyrus waits patiently for the class to settle down, for papers to stop rustling, before he clasps his hands together and begins to speak. “The lesson plan for today is a discussion of the human brain.” Students are opening their books to the corresponding chapter. Dazed, I thumb through my textbook, but none of the words make sense.