Chapter 10
Not ghost, Cass corrected herself. Revenant.
It was obvious from Finch’s expression that she didn’t see him. She was still waiting for a reaction about the room, Cass realized, staring at the other girl’s beaming expression. Now that she had recovered from her initial shock, Cass fought not to glare in the revenant’s direction.
This wasn’t the first time they’d crossed paths—she had caught several glimpses of him since that day. That awful, dark day she didn’t like to think about. But it was always at a distance, and always so fast that she’d wondered if she imagined the dark figure. Standing across the road from her house, walking past the window at the doctor’s office, watching from a street corner as she bought her weed.
Something stopped Cass from revealing the dead guy to Finch. The irony of this wasn’t lost on her, considering Finch would be the first person to actually believe her when she cried ghost. But Cass forced herself to enter the room as if it were empty. It felt like every cell in her body was aware of the revenant’s presence as she set her bags down on a big trunk at the foot of the bed. There was something else on it. Feeling Finch and Dead Guy’s eyes on her, Cass peered down more closely. The items were a pair of dice and a stack of cards.
“The cards are for the Down Through Technique,” Finch explained from the doorway.
Her voice came from a long distance—Cass was still completely focused on Dead Guy. It was the same thing she had experienced in her psychiatrist’s office, while she’d been staring at the bleeding tree. Or at her little brother’s party, when she’d been flying at that dead pervert. Everything else faded in the background, as if Cass had stepped over some kind of invisible divide, and she stood in two places at once. Hoping to ground herself, or pull her mind back to the world of the living, Cass touched the deck of cards.
“What is the Down Through Technique?” she asked. To her ears, she sounded normal.
Finch seemed to buy it. “A test for clairvoyance,” she answered. “You’re supposed to guess the order of a stacked series of target symbols—or the cards, in this case—from top to bottom. Usually it’s an indication that you belong with the Pennyseekers or Timekeepers.”
“Clairvoyance,” Cass repeated, eyebrows raised. What kind of school was this? She should’ve read the welcome packet more closely. Cass pulled away from the cards and added, “What about the dice?”
“For exploring psychokinesis. You try to influence how they fall.”
Cass felt a little more normal now, but she still wasn’t quite ready to face the spirit in the corner. She tossed the dice onto the desk and watched them clatter across its smooth surface. Give me a double, she thought.
The dice landed on a six and a three.
“Guess that answers that question,” Cass remarked.
“You’ll figure it out, don’t you worry. Every voyant does eventually.” Finch’s smile dimmed, but there was nothing different about her voice as she cheerfully added, “Oh, and the first aptitude test is next week—maybe you’ll find out then. If you don’t learn anything at the first one, there are always more.”
“Test?” Cass echoed, her eyebrows raised. “Sounds ominous.”
Finch flapped her hand. “Gosh, no, nothing like that. In order to declare a specialty at Else Bellows, a professor has to witness you, or a student needs a signed affidavit from a legal guardian confirming it. The test is to determine your specialty or see if you’ve developed any secondary abilities. There are five houses on campus, and once you pass the test, you go to live in one of them. In some rare cases, a voyant shows an affinity for multiple specialties, and they have to choose. I’m sure Headmistress Crane explained that part. But Wayside is exactly what it sounds like—an in-between place. Most students discover their focus straightaway, so there aren’t many of us. Some voyants take a bit longer, though.”
Finch’s posture was stiff as she said the last part, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that she was the latter. Cass caught herself wondering how long the other girl had been living at this “in-between place.”
As if Finch knew what she was thinking, she said quickly, “I’ll let you get some rest. Holler if you need anything. Your house keys are in the nightstand, if you decide to step outside for a cigarette, or something like that. We lock the doors at eleven. Sweet dreams, Cass. I’m… I’m really glad you’re here.”
There was a change in Finch’s voice that made Cass forget about the revenant for an instant. She frowned as Finch retreated, but the other girl’s face just emanated kindness. She must’ve imagined it, Cass decided. She wasn’t exactly thinking straight right now. With one last smile, Finch backed out, closing the door as she went.
The second the latch clicked into place, Cass spun toward her dead stalker.
“Get the fuck out of my room,” she snarled.
“No,” the ghost said, sending yet another wave of shock through Cass. His dark eyes stayed on hers, and there was a faint accent in his voice as he added, “We need to talk.”
Silence trembled around them. For the first time, Cass looked at the ghost—really looked at him.
Her shaking body slowed, then went completely still.
If she had to guess, Cass would put the revenant in his early twenties when he’d died. He was average height, but that was the only average thing about him. His angular jaw was covered in a light dusting of stubble, and it curled around the edges of a full, frowning mouth. His soft, serious eyes were brown. There was a small and faint beauty mark beneath the left one, just to the side of his nose. His dark hair brushed against his neck and ears in gentle curls. Beneath the linen shirt he wore, there was the subtle swell of hard muscle.
At some point over the last three seconds, Cass’s mouth had gone dry. She swallowed, hoping this dead stranger didn’t hear the small sound. “If you can talk, why haven’t you said anything until now?” she managed.
The revenant’s frown deepened. “You were grieving. I didn’t want to add to your burden.”
Cass blinked. She struggled to hide how much he’d shaken her. Ghosts weren’t supposed to be sincere, or look at her with such sad eyes, or speak in husky voices like that.
“Well,” she managed, “you’ve clearly attached to me, and according to Finch, that’s my fault for acknowledging your existence. So allow me to remedy our little situation. I’m going to leave this room, and not think about you ever again, and you’ll be gone when I get back. Sound good?”
She gave the revenant a thumbs up and reached back to open the door. But as Cass’s fingers wrapped around the cool knob, they slipped right back off. She hadn’t realized how much her palm was sweating. Cass tried again, and once again, her grip slid off. She swallowed a curse.
The revenant stepped closer, his expression hesitant. Cass froze. She couldn’t seem to look away from his eyes, or even speak. The revenant took another step toward her. Cass kept staring, and in some distant part of her mind, she swore she could smell him now. The scent made her think of a forest, somehow. Cass sensed the revenant move again, then saw his shoulder shift as his hand reached forward.
Panic roared through her.
Cass lurched away at the same moment she realized he’d been going for the doorknob. The back of her wrist brushed against the revenant’s other hand, which had risen to steady her.
Now they both froze, as if they’d been shocked by the same bolt of electricity. Cass was reeling.
He’d been warm. Solid. Like someone fucking alive.
Until now, Cass had thought that only Cal could touch her. So what did this mean? Could all of them do it? Holy shit, if they could touch her, it meant they could hurt her. Could they hurt others, too? Like her family?
Then the revenant spoke again, and all the questions burning through Cass’s head, leaving a scorched trail of terror, dissipated instantly. As if he’d doused a bucket of water over them just with the sound of his voice.
“I haven’t touched another person in…” The revenant trailed off, frowning. The awe in his expression became slow realization, and then he said, his voice soft with disbelief, “Michael. My name is Michael.”
Cass swallowed again. Her thoughts went back to the fact that he could touch her. Knowing the revenant’s name and smelling the soap he’d once used didn’t ease her fear. If anything, this encounter had only made it worse. Until now, she’d assumed the ghosts she saw could only float around and rattle their chains.
She hadn’t really thought they could wrap those chains around her neck and actually kill her.
The revenant—Michael—was still standing there, staring at Cass as if he found her just as unnerving as she found him. His lips parted like he was about to say something. He had said they needed to talk. But Cass’s fight or flight instincts had finally kicked in, and as it usually did these days, flight won.
In a burst of movement, Cass rushed over to the night stand, where she grabbed the keys Finch had mentioned from the drawer. They flashed in the lamplight as Cass dug the welcome packet out of her backpack. Without another word to Michael, Cass crossed the room again and yanked the door shut behind her. It closed harder than she meant it to. Cass winced before she whirled and nearly ran down the hall.
There was one place on campus she knew would be empty.
She hurried through the shadowed house and padded down every staircase, running her hand along the bannisters until she arrived at the looming entryway. Thankfully, she didn’t run into any of her roommates. Cass walked out the front door and hurried along the path, trying not to hunch her shoulders. In her mind’s eye, Cass saw a dim figure in one of the windows, watching her run away.
She didn’t let herself look back to see if the image was accurate.
Cass didn’t slow down until she was halfway across campus and the house was completely out of view. The quiet rang around her as she leaned against a telephone booth and flipped the welcome packet open to find a map. The gentle glow of a nearby streetlight fell over the page. According to the packet, which actually did contain a lot of information that would’ve been helpful earlier, the chapel was at the edge of the Hissing Gardens. Cass pushed off the booth and kept going through the empty courtyards.
She found the garden easily enough, thanks to signs pointing the way. Paths wound through flowers and hedges. Cass passed a fountain, water trickling serenely into the stillness, and an alcove with a bench. The entire way, Cass didn’t see a single soul. She’d started to think she was truly alone out here when she spotted a figure ahead. Cass’s stomach dropped, and she faltered.
It was another student, Cass saw with relief, moving forward again. The girl must’ve heard Cass’s approach, because her head moved slowly to the side. She was beautiful. She wore red lipstick on her rosebud mouth, and her creamy skin was offset by a perfect coif of brown hair and dark, dramatic eyebrows.
As Cass closed the distance between them, the girl turned toward Cass more fully. Her expression was strange.
That was when Cass saw the wound on her chest.
The front of the girl’s dress was soaked in blood, and it was a mass of torn flesh and cotton. As Cass watched, she swayed on her feet, as if she were moments away from collapsing. But her eyes, which were locked on Cass’s, were steady and clear.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” the dead girl whispered.
Cass ran.
Like every other building she’d seen here, the chapel was beautiful.
Cass arrived in a desperate rush of sweat-drenched clothes and hard gasps. Chest heaving, she approached the building’s entrance and stared upward. The walls were made of dark gray stone, the narrow windows arched. Shrubs grew all around its base, and huge potted plants stood on either side of the stairs. The entrance was a pair of wooden doors. Unlike the front gates, there was an inscription over this doorway, and Cass read it as she ascended the steps.
What’s done cannot be undone.
How cheery, Cass thought. She reached the top and pulled one of the heavy doors open. She expected it to creak, but the hinges hardly made a whisper. Cass slipped inside and lifted her gaze, already relaxing at the familiar scent, which was always the same, somehow, in every chapel she visited.
It was something Cass had been doing since she was in middle school—finding chapels. Most of the time, she preferred to be around people. She didn’t like a majority of them, sure, but she liked the noise. The chaos. The feeling of always doing something, going somewhere.
But there were moments or nights that she needed to press pause. Sit in the quiet. Cass didn’t consider herself religious, by any means. Her family was technically Catholic, but the only days they saw the inside of a church was on Easter and Christmas. So it wasn’t God or forgiveness she sought every time she went to a new chapel. Or broke into them, as she’d had to do on a few occasions.
Thankfully, that wasn’t the case tonight.
The room was longer than it looked from the outside. There were two rows of pews and candles burning everywhere, standing on black stands that looked like they were made of iron. The ceiling was high and vaulted, with a long beam running the length of it.
To Cass’s disappointment, the pews weren’t empty.
A guy sat in one toward the middle. As Cass passed, she gave him a quick, sidelong glance. A textbook rested against his knees, the pages splayed open, light filtering through their thin edges. At Cass’s approach, the guy turned his head. There was a small hearing aid tucked against the shell of his ear. Cass saw his eyes start to move toward her, and she quickly looked ahead. Moments later, she slid into a pew near the front. The wood was hard and smooth from years of use.
In an instant, Cass saw this chapel was different from the others, in spite of its comforting scent. There was no railing, no altar, no podium. There were just more candles. Cass thought of all the other students she’d seen and realized this chapel was for everyone, no matter what background or which part of the world they came from.
Cal would’ve liked it here.
Thinking of her brother darkened her mood again. Cass hadn’t brought a book or any paper, so she concentrated on emptying her mind. She fixed her gaze on one of the candles closest to her and watched that spot of brightness flicker and quiver. Every so often, the silence was broken by the soft rustle of a turning page. Minutes passed. Cass and the stranger didn’t say a word to each other, yet somehow, it wasn’t uncomfortable. Cass hugged her knees against her and reveled in the knowledge that, soon, she wouldn’t be so helpless against the revenants.
Eventually she heard the stranger close his book and stand. Cass couldn’t resist glancing over her shoulder. He moved with a grace that made her think of a panther or a wolf. Fur dark as night. Quiet, deadly strength. The duster jacket he wore only added to the effect—it should’ve looked ridiculous, but on him, Cass had to admit it worked. He had thick, black hair that looked like he’d been raking it back with his fingers. It curled against his neck and around his ears. There was almost a blue-black quality to the strands as they caught the light.
The stranger must’ve felt her gaze, because as he reached the end of the pew, he paused. He turned slowly, and Cass got a look at his face. He had a strong jaw, the lines accentuated by a five o’clock shadow. He also had an aristocratic nose and full, solemn lips. Their eyes caught for a second, then two. He finally nodded, and Cass nodded back. Then Duster Guy walked down the center aisle and she faced the front again. The sound of the door closing echoed through the stillness. One of the candles sputtered, but the small flame hung on, then righted itself. It was late. Cass knew she should probably go, too, but she didn’t move. What if she went back to her room and Cal was still gone? Or worse, what if Michael was still there?
It was late by the time she left. Cass crossed campus again, which was now completely empty, and found House Wayside without difficulty. But then she tried the knob and discovered it was locked. Right, the curfew. Remembering the key, Cass dug through her pockets. She searched them again and confirmed they were empty. She must’ve dropped the key in the chapel. “Shit,” Cass muttered.
But this was nothing she hadn’t dealt with before.
She swung away from the door and went around the side of the house. Most of the windows were darkened, which made sense, considering there were more rooms than tenants in House Wayside. Cass tried every one and found them locked. Then she spotted a square of light on the ground, pouring through one of the windows near the back of the house. Cass hurried toward it.
It was Finch’s room. Cass could tell even before she spotted the girl herself, sitting at a desk. It was the pink that gave it away. Pink rug, pink pillows, pink bedspread. There was a papasan chair in the left corner, also pink. The desk Finch worked at was in the other. A cork board hung over her. Cass had one like it in her old dorm, but that was where the similarities ended—instead of ticket stubs, bar tabs, party or Greek life invitations, there were only Post-it Notes. The handwriting on them was neat and feminine. On the other wall, there was a poster of Sean Penn.
Cass reached up and tapped the glass. Finch’s head jerked to the side, and when she saw Cass, her eyes widened. She rushed over to the window and pushed it open.
“Lost my key,” Cass said before Finch could speak, reaching over the windowsill to haul herself through. She rolled and got to her feet in the expert movement of someone who’d snuck through many windows.
Finch watched her with a strange expression. She wore a head brace and the frilliest, pinkest nightgown Cass had ever seen. Finch must’ve showered recently, because her long hair was damp and a floral scent clung to the air.
“Where were you?” Finch asked, speaking with a lisp because of her brace.
Out, Cass started to say. It was her usual response whenever her mom, or her dad, or her brother asked her where she’d been. But then she thought of how she felt every time Cal dodged her own questions.
“Chapel,” Cass answered honestly, striding toward the door.
Understanding filled Finch’s expression. “It was hard for me, too. When I first got here, I felt like I was in another world, and all I wanted was to be back home with my family and my old friends. It gets better, though. You get used to all the strangeness. After a while, it even starts to feel normal.”
Cass had started reaching for the doorknob, but Finch’s response made her pause. Cass faced the other girl again, and this time, she really looked at her. She glanced around the room again, noting how it looked like it had been lived in for a long time. She noted smaller details, too. The neat cork board that only held homework assignments. The utter lack of pictures, other than one framed next to her bed, which she guessed was Finch’s family. There were also brightly-colored sticky notes on the dresser mirror. Today might be the day! one read. Another said, Keep your chin up.
Just as Cass opened her mouth to answer Finch, screaming tore through the stillness.
Both girls startled. Cass recovered first, and she ran for the door and yanked it open. She flew into the hall and stopped short at the sight of so many people gathered. There was a boy on the floor, wearing nothing but a towel, and another boy—he was so built it didn’t seem accurate to call him that—extending a hand toward him. Two girls stood beside them. Cass recognized Tammy, so that meant the other one must’ve been Candice. She was pretty, with carrot-bright hair and a smattering of freckles over her creamy nose.
“…thought it might be a revenant,” the kid on the floor was saying, his voice breaking. He had the boniest shoulders Cass had ever seen, and she could practically count his ribs. His dark skin was riddled with scars. Distantly, Cass wondered if they had something to do with his NDE. But most of her focus was on the fact that a revenant might be in this house.
She wasn’t the only one who didn’t like the idea. Candice was shifting from foot to foot, and Tammy was frowning. “We need to tell Crane, right?” Cass ventured.
“It wasn’t a revenant, though,” the boy said quickly, clutching at his towel as he stood. “I just thought it was.”
Cass darted a glance toward the bathroom door, worried something would come out of the steam. “What was it?”
The boy suddenly became preoccupied. He looked down and said something under his breath, fussing with the knot in his towel. Cass couldn’t hear him, but the tall guy did.
“Dude, are you serious? You woke us up because of a spider?” he mumbled, rubbing his eye.
“I can see your penis,” Tammy said flatly.
The kid looked down again. He made a small, involuntary sound at the same moment Finch appeared. She must’ve taken her head brace off, because there was no sign of it. The boy’s eyes darted toward her, and dismay filled his young face. He covered himself frantically.
“Forget it,” he blurted. “We should all go back to—”
He cut off, making another panicked grab at his towel, which had loosened once more. Another sound left him, this one so high-pitched that it made Cass think of a whistle. As she turned away, and everyone else dispersed, she touched her cheek. Her fingers brushed over a slight indent in her skin, small crescent moons she hadn’t felt in a long time.
For the first time since Cal died, she was smiling.