This is Your Afterlife (11 page)

“Yes,” I say reluctantly. “Like I said, it can be dangerous. I've never performed one before. I'm not about to start now.”

“What about my brother? Don't you care?” He steps closer, near enough for me to feel his hot, angry breath on my chilled skin.

“You know I do,” I say indignantly, but I'm struck by the tears hiding in his eyelashes.

“We've gotta keep looking for him, keep fighting for him, keep...” Dan breaks down. He sinks to the rocks, lands hard onto his knees and sobs his heart out.

In a flash, I crouch beside him, cradling him. He's tall and lean, but in my arms he feels like a scared little kid. Damn these Hawkins brothers. Who knew they could be so vulnerable? My heart aches for both of them.

“I'll find Jimmy, Dan.” I don't know how, but I will. “Right now, your mom and dad need
you.
They've just lost one son. They don't want to worry about another.”

Dan settles and extricates himself from me. “You're right.”

“I'm always right.”

He leans over and splashes water over his face. “I really didn't mean to lose it like that.”

Tentatively, I place a hand on his trembling shoulder. “It's okay. I'll cut you a break.”

“Thanks,” he says, but he still looks more sheepish than grateful that I'm giving him a pass. He pats my hand and I take that as a sign to let go.

Standing up, I say, “Why don't I drive you home. I'll come back later and look for him.”

His jaw clenches. “No. I say we go to my house and do a séance. Just you and me.”

“Dan...”

“Keira,” he counters in a firm voice. “It's the easiest, fastest way, right?”

“I don't know about
easiest.
”

“I'm happy with fastest.”

He really doesn't understand what he's asking of me.

Eyes flashing, he says, “If you don't help me, then I'll do it myself! We are going to find him and then we're going to give him peace by finding out how he died, no matter what it takes.”

“Including a séance.”

“You'll do it?” Dan's voice is so full of hope, I can't bear to say no. If the séance doesn't work, then at least we can say we tried.

“All right,” I agree with obvious distaste. “First thing we need to do is find the nearest Catholic church.”

He eyes me skeptically. “But I'm Anglican. Not that I've been to church in a while.”

“I don't care if you're Buddhist, Muslim or an atheist.” I wave him off. “Evil spirits are what I'm worried about. And to counteract them, we need a whole lot of holy water.”

Cars line the entire meandering street outside the Hawkins house. Dan instructs me to pull into the driveway. A procession of solemn people head into the house carrying platters of food and no doubt casseroles, that staple for the grief-stricken. After Grandie passed, we had enough casseroles given to us by friends and neighbors to feed the whole Bay Area for six months. Mom and I took it all gratefully.

Now I feel rude for going into the house with hands as empty as my heart.

“Wow,” Dan says, not making a move from my passenger seat. “Mom didn't mention all these people.”

“Last thing you want to do right now is entertain, right?”

He nods. “Come on, let's sneak in through the side gate.”

Dan ducks his head as we lope across the grass. No one takes any notice, least of all Aimee Barton whose loud wails attract the attention of the other mourners.

“Why? Why did it have to be my Jimmy? Why?” she moans. In the distance, dogs bark in response.

Dan grips my hand and squeezes hard. Sometimes the worst thing about losing someone is dealing with other people's expressions of grief. Especially when you're trying so hard to keep it together.

We steal into the shadows and stick close to a hedge planted along the fence line. Dan uses a key to unlock a tall side gate and ushers me through. The house is lit up brilliantly. All anyone needs to do is throw a casual glance out the immense plate-glass windows and they'll see us.

Mrs. Hawkins sits numbly on a long cream-colored couch. She strokes a white terrier while listening to someone trying to give comforting words. Her expression blank, she stares at the floor. Mr. Hawkins is nowhere in sight. Near the couch, Mara hands out drinks and snacks. Nice of her to help the family.

“Hurry,” Dan whispers. We come to a redwood-framed window, one of the few that isn't blazing with light. Working his key along the edge of the frame, he flicks it wide open. Problem is the window's five feet off the ground.

I look around for a backyard shed. “Got a ladder?”

“Step right up.” He stoops and laces his hands together to form a stirrup. His grip is warm, comforting. Yet...confusingly, it sends a shiver of pleasure all the way up my leg. I'm about to conduct a séance and all I can think about is how good Dan's hand feels on me.

“Something tells me this isn't the first time you've snuck girls into your room,” I joke, but my stomach twinges at the thought of Dan with another girl.

“There haven't been any other girls. No one special, anyway.”

Our gazes lock. Just for a split second. But it's enough to make me feel like
I'm
the special one.

In one swift motion, he hoists me and I scramble through the window, landing heavily on a polished timber floor. I check my bag to make sure the holy water bottle is intact.

“You okay, Keira?”

“Yeah.” I lean on the sill. “But how are
you
gonna get—”

“Move aside.” He grins up at me. Before I know it, he's up and over the sill and standing inches from me.

“Th...that was close,” I say, wondering why I'm feeling flustered. I step back. My foot connects with a skateboard. “Whoa!”

Dan grabs me by the waist and saves us from crashing through a wall. He drags me to his chest and holds me there for a moment. Our hearts seem to thrash in time. In the darkness, it's impossible to see his expression. But I can feel it. The bruising intensity. Memories of the closet encounter bounce around my head. I want to run away.

I want to stay.

A glass shatters somewhere, followed by a yelp of “I'm so sorry!”

Dan's hands drop from my waist. He clears his throat and turns on a bedside lamp. “So where do you want to do this?”

My mouth feels drier than Death Valley. Of course, the only water I have immediate access to has a greater purpose than quenching thirst. I glance around Dan's bedroom, avoiding his gaze. There isn't a lack of space in here, that's for sure. He could easily rent it out to a dance school and still have room for the easel facing the wall of windows. Fitness equipment lies abandoned around a yoga mat. A rumpled queen-sized bed stands alongside a mural of the Milky Way. That's what Jimmy was talking about that night when he said he saw stars.

The mural was a reminder that he hadn't made it to heaven.

That's something I need to fix. I straighten my spine and head for his desk. “Can I use this paper?”

“Sure.” He moves aside books and a laptop. “So...I take it you know what to do from here?”

“Not really.” I rip a sheet of paper in two, then write “Yes” and “No” on them. A red plastic pencil sharpener will stand in as a planchette for my improvised Ouija board. “Damn. I wonder if I should use my tarot cards. I left them at home.”

“Should we go and get them?” The impatience in his voice tells me he'd rather forget about driving ten minutes to my house so we can get on with “calling” Jimmy.

“No, I'll manage. When Jimmy showed up the first time, I didn't need the cards. He just arrived.” I motion for him to sit on the other side of the desk and splash holy water all over the room. In my head I pray frantically. “We need to surround ourselves with white light. Imagine a pure, white protective bubble. This is going to stop evil spirits from entering our space.”

Dan stares at me like I've got a few screws loose. “Okay...”

“Just close your eyes. Paint that white bubble over this desk, yourself, the whole room.”

After a moment of concentrated silence, he murmurs. “I'm doing the whole house, just give me a minute.”

I smile. “Great idea.”

A tentative knock at the door sounds like machine-gun fire. Our eyelids fly open at the same time.

“Dan?” a soft voice calls. “Are you in there?”

“That's Mara,” he whispers.

Mara's voice becomes louder. “Can I come in?”

Dan throws me a questioning look. “What do you think?”

I'm reluctant to bring another person into our communal white bubble, particularly someone who's going to be the next Barbara Walters
.
What if she decides to run a feature? God, I can see the headline now:
Keira Nolan Sees Dead People.
Then again, she might take pity on me like she did with Jimmy's article.

“She and Jimmy have a naked history together.” I smirk, thinking of Jimmy wearing nothing but a hat and a smile.

“Dan?” Mara says uncertainly. I've never known her to sound so unsure of herself. Mara could be audacious. She tried to trap Mayor Watts in a “Gotcha!” moment, claiming she had footage of him smoking pot and partying hard. He didn't deny it, but smoothly flicked her claims away, saying she was a “precocious high school kid.” I guess he didn't get that parents read the
Bugle,
too. His re-election campaign went south and he lost office.

I stare at the door, weighing the pros and cons of letting her enter. “Maybe her being here will encourage Jimmy to come back from wherever he is.”

“She'll be cool. You'll see.” Dan opens the door a crack. “Mara. Come on in.”

Mara slips in, her face ghostly pale. Dan locks the door behind her. “Oh... I didn't know you had, um, company. Hi, Keira.” She smiles thinly and eyes the makeshift Ouija board. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” we reply.

Dan exchanges a glance with me. Unspoken words pass.

Mara folds her arms. “No, you don't sound suspicious at all.”

“I just wanted to say goodbye to my brother,” Dan offers. I detect the tiniest of cracks in his voice. He's trying hard to keep it together. “Keira's going to...contact him.”

“You're doing a séance?” Mara's back stiffens. She looks even more distraught. “I don't think it's a good idea.”

“That's what I told him,” I can't help saying.

“See, Dan?” Mara says with obvious panic. Her eyes glimmer with tears.

“We've got holy water. We've got a protective bubble. We're set.” Dan's jaw twitches. “I
have
to do this. Do you want to join in?”

Mara's expression looks torn. She fixes an intense stare on me. “Is it for real? Do you know what you're doing?”

“I know...enough,” I answer. “I don't know if it'll work.”

There's no need to tell Mara about my new ability to see ghosts. Or rather,
a
ghost. Singular. Nor do I want to alarm her about the possibilities of entities and underworld demons crashing Dan's room. What I really need is some other method of bringing Jimmy home, one that doesn't require a cast of thousands.

“If you don't want to be a part of this, you can leave,” I say.

Her mouth opens, then shuts abruptly. “Of course I'll join. I never got to say a proper goodbye to Jimmy, either.”

A mascara-stained tear makes its way down Mara's high cheekbones. Feeling ashamed about trying to deny her a final farewell, re-arrange random items on Dan's desk.

Dan gives up his chair for Mara and then parks himself on an exercise ball.

“Wait. We need candles,” I say.

“There are white tea lights in the powder room. I'll go get them,” Mara says. Minutes later, she returns. Remarkably, the two jasmine-scented candles are still lit.

“How did you carry them all this way like that?” Dan asks.

A weird pang of jealousy strikes me. I could do that, too. It's not like she crossed the Kalahari with a leaky bucket of water balanced on her head.

She places the candles on the desk before me and shrugs modestly. “Just a talent I have. Keira, will these do?”

“They're perfect.” The strong fragrance burns into my nose. I splash around more holy water. This time I make the sign of the cross over each of us. No demon is getting through this spiritual barrier. I'm totally making my own ritual as I go along, doing whatever feels natural and right. This is Halverston, California. Elevation 6,162 feet. As close to heaven as you can get in the whole county. Demons don't belong here.

Dan and Mara watch me solemnly. I sense apprehension climbing in Mara. Having seen
Beetlejuice
innumerable times, I can't blame her for feeling edgy. I move my hands rapidly so they can't see how much I'm trembling. I'm doing this for Dan and Jimmy. I force myself to stay calm, positive. Dark forces tend to feed on nervous energy, that's what Grandie taught me.

“Let's begin,” I intone.

“Do we join hands?” Mara asks.

“No, first we're each going to very lightly touch the planchette with one index finger.”

“The sharpener,” Dan clarifies for her.

“For the purposes of the séance, it's a planchette and the entire desk is a Ouija board. Now, imagine yourself in a bubble of white light. Close your eyes, Mara.”

She obeys.

My voice bends into a soothing, gentle tone. “Picture that white bubble hugging you. Good. Now let it expand and fill the whole room.”

We're so close together I can hear their breathing. Dan is already in a zen state, no doubt managing to extend his bubble all the way to Kathmandu. Mara's still tense. Me, I'm trying not to hyperventilate. Beneath our fingertips, the planchette remains still.

Jimmy. Focus on Jimmy.