I look at Reena’s face. She’s smiling, and when I look at Leo, I see that he is, too.
“But this is awful,” I say. “This is . . .”
“This is what the Guides do,” says Leo. “They insist that everyone merge.”
“It isn’t fair,” I say, grabbing onto Reena’s arm. “What if Ella doesn’t want to go . . . what if she’s—”
I look up at her again on the podium, and Ella lowers her head for a moment. Her eyes catch mine, and I think I see a shadow cross her face. It’s all I need.
“Stop!” I shout. “Stop the ceremony!”
I drop Reena’s arm, rushing out onto the pathway, and concerned murmurs rise among the ghosts. All eyes turn toward my direction.
“Ella, get down from there!” I yell, hurrying toward her. “You don’t want this!”
“Callie?” Ella calls.
Then Thatcher stumbles into the middle pathway, too—he was up front, close to Ella. I see Sarah and Ryan behind him.
Leo, Reena, Delia, and Norris step out behind me.
“What are you doing here?” Thatcher asks me.
He’s a furious storm ready to be released. It’s obvious that he has a really tight rein on his emotions. I’m not sure I want to be around when he unleashes them. On the other hand, this is wrong. We have to make him see that. For Ella’s sake.
The whole forest has gone silent. Even the mbiras are still.
“We brought her,” says Reena, answering for me. Her eyes are burning gold as she stares at Thatcher and the other Guides. “She has a right to see what you’re doing. What a merging is like.”
Thatcher moves closer, coming toward us as the ghosts at the edge of the path watch, riveted.
“Callie, I don’t know what they’ve told you, but none of it is true,” he says. “Solus is like what you think of as Heaven; it’s a beautiful—”
“Solus is a myth, Thatcher!” shouts Reena, her voice bold now. She’s got the attention of the whole forest. “The Guides are perpetuating a lie—there is no such thing as Solus. The Prism is the only afterlife we’ll ever know. And we’re not leaving just so you and the Guides can continue sending ghosts away and keeping this world—and your connection to Earth—for yourselves.”
I didn’t know that her desire to stay on Earth went this deep—that she thinks Thatcher and the Guides are deceiving everyone. A rumble goes up behind her, and I realize that she has more supporters in the crowd than just the friends we came with.
I’m standing between them—between Reena and Thatcher—and I don’t know which way to turn to move out of the crossfire. My request to come here, to see this ceremony, suddenly feels like a mistake. I just wanted to learn more about this world, but now it’s obvious I’m smack-dab in the middle of a conflict that is much bigger than I knew.
“You think we Guides like it here?” asks Thatcher, his voice strained. “In this transitional space where we guide new ghosts only to see them move on? Where we form no relationships and are reminded constantly that we have loved ones who never got over our deaths?” He looks around now, at the many ghosts watching us. It feels like all of the Prism is listening to this exchange, hanging on every word. There’s a celestial glow in this space and on the faces of everyone gathered here. If you were to stumble upon this scene, it would look almost holy, not like the battle it’s turning into.
“That’s who your Guides are,” says Thatcher, his voice loud and strong. “We’re the ghosts who couldn’t move on, the ones whose haunting hasn’t worked. Oh, we know how to help others, but we’re too broken to help ourselves.”
Looking around at the ghosts, I realize that most of them didn’t know this—they’re blissfully unaware of how things work in the Prism. They appear surprised, curious even, but unconcerned. They’re unencumbered by memories, content to be haunting on the path to Solus. But the people who remember—we can’t be content. We feel too much pain.
In Reena’s face I see the anguish, and suddenly I wonder if more ghosts than just Leo are “troubled.” Maybe we all are.
Is this what returning to your death spot causes?
“You aren’t helping ghosts by forcing them to merge,” says Reena, her volume growing to match Thatcher’s as she addresses the crowd now, too. “If any of you are afraid of this, of Solus, you can come with us.” She motions toward Leo, Delia, Norris. I notice that a few other ghosts have gathered behind her—the crowd is growing. “We’ll show you what you’re forgetting—your lives on Earth. We can share energy; we can remain on Earth with our families and friends. With Callie, we can—”
“Whoooooooosh!” Sarah lets out a noise like the wind rushing through trees as she puts Reena on the ground. The force of her motion swishes by me, and Thatcher catches my arm, keeping me from falling.
Reena jumps to her feet, standing strong and ready. She smiles at me, but it’s not the friendly grin I’m used to. She looks pained.
“Get Callie out of here,” Sarah says to Thatcher. “I’ll handle the poltergeists.”
Poltergeists?
Thatcher holds tight to my arm as I try to pull away. “I’m not going with you,” I say. I need to understand what’s happening. Why do I feel like secrets are being kept from me?
The breath is knocked out of me as Thatcher grabs me around my waist and tugs me through a portal. As we hurtle through the darkness, I’m struggling against him, shouting, but my voice is drowned out by our speed-of-light movement.
We emerge onto what looks like a decked patio, with wooden furniture and leafy plants. A hammock is strung diagonally between the narrow walls. It’s a peaceful place, but I’m not in the mood for tranquillity. “How dare you!” I spit, wrenching myself away from him.
“How dare I?” he shouts, nearly speechless with anger.
I cross my arms over my chest and stare out at the broad-leafed plants.
“You shouldn’t have been there,” says Thatcher, standing toe-to-toe with me. “It was too soon for you to see a merging ceremony. You ruined Ella’s transition with your impulsive actions. You’re not even well into your haunting—you still have to create a real peace with Nick and Carson—you haven’t started with your father yet. I’ve trusted you, I’ve revealed more to you than anyone, and—”
“You’ve trusted me?” I say, cutting off his rant and batting away the arrow of guilt I feel about Ella. “More like you’ve lied to me.”
“I haven’t—” Thatcher starts, but I cut him off again. If he’s going to accuse me of a betrayal, then I’m going to confront him, too.
“The portals lead you where you need to go, Thatcher? Is that how it works?” My voice is shaking now. “Those doors are the only way I have of accessing my life, the people I love, and you withheld that from me. You made me think I couldn’t control my own movements.”
“I was protecting you!” he says, exasperated.
“From what?” I ask.
He clamps his mouth into a tight line and closes his eyes, like he’s putting a lid over what he might say. Finally meeting my gaze, he reaches out and folds his strong hands around my upper arms. A flash of heat pulses through me, not the comforting heat of before. It’s reverberating with his frustration.
“If you haunt on your own, there are so many things that could go wrong,” he says, and his voice falters a little bit. “You don’t know what a failed haunting feels like, and if I’m not there, you might . . .” He stops talking, and I wonder if he can see the truth on my face.
“You’ve already haunted them without me,” he says. He doesn’t sound mad or surprised, really, just . . . sad, defeated.