Chapter 1 Heidi
HEIDI
Four Months Later
Whichever god is in charge of puking, please don't let me do that in front of all these people.
Coming out tonight has officially been one of my worst ideas.
Well, it was partly Jessica's idea. She threatened to spoil the ending of a book series I'm reading that she recommended forever ago if I didn't dip my toe back into society.
But still. A date, when I'm in this condition? No matter how touch-starved I've been for the last eight months, I should've ignored the horny, extroverted goblin inside my head and said no.
Major and minor emotions swirl around me, wafting off of the dozen or so other people chattering inside this casual Italian restaurant. Nausea curls in my gut, my nervous system thrown into mayhem as it's forced to experience all their feelings all at once.
Impatience. Hunger. Satisfaction. Irritation. Lust, wistfulness, emptiness, excitement, boredom, depression, laughter, interest…
The most vibrant, sharp emotion clouding around me is the anxiety coming from a booth two down from mine. There's a couple there—a blond-haired man and a gorgeous woman, both somewhere in their thirties. His anxiety is laced with adrenaline, hope, fear, and plenty of other minor feelings.
Her anxiety is the polar opposite. It's a cold mix of dread, resignation, and slowly building relief I know all too well.
She's about to break up with him.
He's on pretty much the exact opposite page. I watch as he reaches to nervously check a square lump in one of his pockets for the fourth time.
I grimace, already imagining how this night is going to feel for him. I shouldn't butt in, but…come on. The poor guy could use a little warning, right?
"Your chicken parmigiana," a pleasant but secretly exhausted server says, setting a plate in front of me. He holds up a grater. "Cheese?"
The steaming dish in front of me looks great, but my stomach begins roiling just as a nearby pregnant woman recoils from the scent of the seafood dish her husband ordered. Other feelings are raking over me from all directions.
Before I can manage to formulate even a one-word reply, Jessica's blue-haired head floats up through my table as she pins me with a dead serious stare.
Emphasis on dead, since…well.
That's what my bestie is.
"Whatever happens tonight, do not—I repeat, do not let that grunting, uncultured, hairy-assed plebeian touch you.
Your date just took the biggest shit that was ever shat and didn't wash his fucking hands," she hisses.
"He's now scrolling on his phone in there.
Who goes to the bathroom for this long at the beginning of a first date, anyway? Fucking nasty."
Good thing I already lost my appetite before hearing that, because ew.
A small wave of annoyance crests over me as the server clears his throat. "Was that a yes or a no to the cheese, miss?"
I try to smile apologetically even though the blond man's nervousness is now clogging my throat and making my heart pound uncomfortably.
"Oh—no. Thanks. Sorry about...uh, thanks."
My cheeks turn hot. Gods, I'm so overwhelmed I've started repeating myself.
The ruffled server steps away. I swallow hard, wipe my brow, and try to focus on Jessica, lowering my voice to speak under my breath so no one will think I'm chatting with myself.
"Okay, I did not need to know that. Why couldn't you have left me in ignorant bliss?"
She scoffs and floats to sit in my absent date's chair, blowing semi-translucent blue hair out of her face.
"Bitch, please. Ignorance is never bliss when it comes to dating, and you know it.
What if the date turned around and started going well, huh?
So well that he wound up at your place trying to stick his shit-particle-covered digits right up inside you? "
We both shudder and gag in synchrony.
I notice the pregnant woman eyeing me from her table, concerned curiosity radiating from her. I fix my face and take a steadying breath, trying to think clearly through everyone else's emotions.
It's only thanks to the enchanted necklace I haven't taken off for months that I can see and even hear people from beyond the grave, including Jessica.
It was wildly expensive—the second thing I've ever bought with the dollops of money my older brother has been stubbornly sending me ever since I moved to Koasville, Illinois.
"Maybe I should bounce before the dinner rush gets here," I mutter, stabbing absentmindedly at my pasta. "This is brutal."
Jess nods. "I applaud you getting out finally, chica, but we both knew going into this that this guy's a dead end."
That's true.
There's a good reason I've been keeping my distance from socializing and avoiding physical touch for months, no matter how desperately I've craved it.
Thanks to the liches who did gods know what to me in the Nether, a person will feel everything I'm feeling from the barest touch of my skin, even if they're wearing mytherun.
As someone who's had no choice but to absorb everyone else's emotions for as long as I can remember, that's not something I'm eager to burden anyone else with.
Basically, this date was a test run. An attempt to get back to normal. Even if it didn't get far, at least it got me out of my fuzzy slippers, robe, and messy bun for one night.
I pull my phone out to check the time. "I should at least wait until he gets back to make an excuse for leaving."
"Why? Girl, Mr. UTI Fingers is scrolling on his godsdamned phone, watching glass-blowing tutorials as we speak.
I know he seemed decent for the little bit he was out here, but we're now at minute seventeen of him hanging out in the bathroom.
On. A. Fucking. Date. Even if he has no idea how hard it actually is for you to be out and about right now, he's not entitled to any more of your time.
It's not on you to shelter his feelings, remember? "
Her wording makes me think of my brother's best friend's constant reminders during my childhood. I can practically still hear Ian's gentle scowl and feel him wiping tears off my face after one of my empathic meltdowns.
Forget them. Just 'cause you have to feel whatever they're feeling doesn't mean that's on you. It's never on you, Sunshine. Okay?
It took me a long time to stop feeling responsible for others' emotions. I'm usually much better these days, but it helps that Jessica makes a point of reminding me.
I flag down the server, apologize again for zoning out earlier, and ask for a takeout box.
Five minutes later, I slip out the front doors of the Italian restaurant, taking a deep breath as I try to center myself despite all the strangers' emotions.
Before I walk into the parking lot, I notice the blond-haired, nervous guy pacing out here, talking on his phone.
"Yeah. No, Cressa just slipped into the bathroom, but she'll be back any second," he says to what I'm assuming is his moral support friend or relative. "Gods, I'm so damn nervous. Yeah? Okay. Uh-huh, I'll let you know. 'Kay, here goes. Bye."
He hangs up and moves toward the front door.
"Yoo-hoo? Earth to El," Jessica prompts, waving a see-through hand in front of me.
It's not my business. I know that.
But…
I may not be responsible for this stranger, but no matter who you are, heartbreak hurts. Life is hard enough for everyone. If I can save him the added pain, why shouldn't I?
"Uh oh. I know that face," Jess groans. "El, don't—"
"Excuse me?" I'm already saying, turning back to get the blond-haired man's attention before it's too late.
He pauses outside the restaurant, pocketing his phone as he looks back at me. I can sense his distraction, since he's clearly still fixated on what he's about to do.
"Uh…yeah?"
It's not like I can come right out and say he shouldn't propose.
But that's okay. One thing people don't know about empaths is that we can be particularly good liars. It's a little too easy when I've been able to pick up on the tiniest hints of suspicion wafting off of someone for as long as I can remember.
I offer a friendly smile and slip right into the lies, deciding to use my failed date to this guy's advantage.
"Sorry to ask this, but could you do me a favor?
I'm leaving, and I can't get a hold of my boyfriend in the men's room, but…
" I drop my voice to a whisper. "The thing is, I'm pretty sure he was going to propose to me tonight. "
The relatability gets his attention. "He was?"
I feign laughing uncomfortably. "Yeah. I mean, he doesn't know that I know, you know? But his sister accidentally let it slip the other day when we were out shopping together."
"If you know he's proposing, why the hell are you leaving now?" he demands, confused.
He's already getting emotionally invested, which means he'll keep comparing this to his own situation. I fidget as I remember all the minor emotions I was picking up from his girlfriend, piecing together the most likely reason for her decision.
"I know it's crappy of me to duck out on him like this, but…it's just the wrong time, you know? I've actually been thinking about breaking up with him."
"You're kidding," he scoffs, intrigued. "Why?"
Jessica grins. "Oh, you're good."
A relatively fresh ghost wanders past us, waving absentmindedly at Jess before passing through the wall of the restaurant.
I don’t react because I’m used to seeing other random ghosts now and then—although compared to right after the Upheaval, when there were ghosts everywhere, they’re much less common now.
I’ve never seen Syntyche, but that goddess has clearly been busy catching up on reaping souls.
“My boyfriend is a really nice guy," I tell the blond guy quickly. "We've been together for years, but things have just been stale lately. I think deep down, he can sense we've been drifting apart, and that's why he's suddenly trying to propose, thinking it will somehow fix things," I sigh.
Familiarity blooms in this man's emotions. His hand almost goes for the ring in his pocket again before he frowns at me.
"I feel like you should really be telling him all of this yourself."
"I probably should," I agree, still channeling his girlfriend's emotions.
"I just can't bring myself to do it tonight.
I don't want to fight with him, but I mean—seriously?
He was going to propose to me here, of all places, on a random Tuesday night when we're both tired after work?
That's just a sign of how out of touch he is with our relationship.
I need more from him, you know? More effort.
Would it kill him to take an interest in my day or spring for a little romance?
I'd love to make our relationship work, but if he proposes right now, it'll be the last straw.
Could you just tell him I had to leave for a family emergency or something? "
The man looks through the restaurant window at his girlfriend as she returns to their table. Unsureness and something bordering on realization have washed out all of his previous adrenaline.
"Um…sure, yeah. I can do that. What's your boyfriend's name?"
Oh, crap.
My date's name was…
"Keith," Jessica volunteers.
It's not Keith. I have him saved in my phone as Test Run. My old boss and friend, Stephanie, set this up and told me it probably wouldn't go anywhere, but that he wasn't a serial killer and it would finally get me out of my house.
"It's Ken. Or Kevin," my ghostly bestie goes on. "Kolton?"
This is what I get for using anything but the person's actual name for my contacts.
I recover quickly with a smile. "You know, it might be weird if he walks out of the bathroom and a stranger calls him by his name. But he's about this tall," I hold up a hand for reference, "With brown hair, and he's wearing a navy blue jersey. Oh, and whatever you do, don't shake his hand. Okay?"
"Okay?" the blond man repeats, confused. "Why would I—"
"Thanks!" I chirp before practically skipping to my car with relief.
Crisis averted.
"Gods, you're a hopeless romantic," Jessica sighs from the passenger seat as I pull onto the sunset-bathed highway soon after. "Who's to say that relationship was even worth saving?"
It's about a fifteen-minute drive from this small city back to Koasville, so I set up music to play quietly in the background and flash her a grin.
"Who's to say it wasn't? Besides, even if she breaks up with him tonight, hopefully he'll save some face and have a better idea of how to treat someone else in the future."
She snorts. "Yeah, maybe. Gods, the dating pool is just so fucking dismal. Why do so many men have to suck so bad? If they sucked less, maybe I wouldn't have died single. I hope the dating pool's better in the Beyond."
That tiny reminder almost kills my smile as we listen to the music without talking all the way back to our small town.
It's been eight months since everything happened. The Battle of the Citadel. The end of the Upheaval. My rescue.
Which means it's been just over eight months and three weeks since Jessica died while I was forced to watch helplessly, experiencing every bit of her final pain until it cut off.
I don't know why Syntyche, the goddess of reaping, has left her spirit alone, but I'd be lost without my best friend.
Whether she helps me keep my sanity or is slowly clawing it away from me, I'll never know, but she's who I count on most in the world.
But whenever she mentions passing into the Beyond…
I know she needs to pass on eventually. It's this unspoken thing between us—we both know she's sticking around to keep an eye on me, since no one else really knows my whole story.
Jessica does, though.
In life, Jess was my confidante in everything after we met as awkward middle schoolers.
She's the one who helped me adjust to living among humans and pretending to be one.
We were there for each other through everything—middle school, lazy summers, all of high school, bad hair days, concerts, trips abroad, graduation, starting jobs, every ugly breakup… .
We survived the beginning of the Upheaval together. Jess stuck by my side as I tracked down my parents on the thin hope that they would accept some kind of payment and take Jessica and her suffering younger sister into their safe haven after shadow fiends killed the rest of Jess's family.
Then my parents turned us away, and we were captured by monsters and taken to the citadel.
She didn't survive.
I did.
I know she doesn't blame me for that, but…
As we pull onto the obscure forest road that leads to my house, Jessica sees my face and throws her head back with a groan.
"You're doing it again. Bitch, stop feeling guilty for choices I made or I'll—oh my gods, Mr. Douchenozzle is here."