The third one dropped to the floor. It crept over Jonathan’s head, leaving a moist trail on his hair and skin. He struggled, threw his hands up to pull the phantom off of him, but it was too strong. A moment later his nose and mouth were covered. He beat at it, tore at it with his fingernails, but the phantom was already lifting him off the floor.
Through the film of the shadowy body, Jonathan watched his own hands flail as he rose off of the carpet. The picture of Kirsty, a rectangular blur, flapped in the air, still held firmly between his fingers. His chest heaved for breath, but the ghost’s form filled his nose, his mouth. His pulse thundered like drums in his ears. His heart beat like a speeding train, trying to break through his ribs. Up and up. The phantom lifted him from the floor and dragged him to the ceiling. Another of the Reapers wrapped around his legs.
Together the two monsters carried him around the room. They beat him against the ceiling, then dropped to the floor, skimming over the carpet.
Jonathan’s head grew light. His body began to hitch violently as his lungs struggled to draw breath. White flashes appeared in his vision, playing against the dark field covering his eyes.
In a final attempt to save his own life, Jonathan threw out his hand, reached for anything he could get his fingers on. He was helpless in midair. If he could get on his feet, get some control of any kind…
He felt wood scrape over his chest and arms. He was being lifted by his feet, dangling upside down. He desperately reached out, and the edge of the desk slid into his palm. He held on with all of his might.
The phantoms continued to climb, and a searing agony flared at Jonathan’s shoulder. It felt like his arm would rip out of the socket. But he held on.
Through the shade of the Reaper’s body, he saw the goblet on the desk’s surface. More lights flashed before his eyes, and his torso clenched miserably. He needed air. Needed it right now.
A low ringing filled his ears. His eyes stung from the secretions on the surface of the ghost, but he could see the goblet. He saw his face looking up at him from it.
Jonathan reached down. He dropped Kirsty’s picture in the cup. With his fingers freed of it, he yanked his picture from the foul liquid. He flung it to the floor, and suddenly the grip on his feet was gone and he was falling.
The cowl lifted from his mouth, his nose, his eyes. Jonathan gasped, taking in gulps of sweet air, filling his desperate lungs with oxygen as his mind spun out of control like a broken carnival ride. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, expecting to see the Reapers regrouping above him, but they didn’t appear.
From the far corner of the room, Kirsty began to scream.
But it only lasted for a few seconds before she fell silent.
Jonathan looked in her direction.
The Reapers covered her. They did not lift her from the carpet, the mistake they’d made with Jonathan. No. They covered her like a filmy cocoon, pinning her to the wall. Her face was a mask of terror. Mouth wide. Eyes pushed closed. Unmoving. Shaded darkly by the bodies of her phantoms.
17
Jonathan sat at Perky’s staring at the empty chair on the other side of the table. He stirred his coffee absently, looked out the window at the sun-drenched day. People walked along the mall, holding bags of clothes and electronics and toys and kitchenware. They all seemed so happy, so content with their places in the world.
Jonathan wondered what that felt like. Maybe one day he’d know.
“So, dude,” David said, dropping his butt into the empty chair. He set his cup of coffee on the table and leaned forward. “You want to run all of this by me again?”
“What’s left to tell?” Jonathan asked. “Kirsty was “Yeah. Duh. Got that part of the story. Kirsty was freak salad. That’s all LAC—loud and clear. I just can’t quite deal with all of this yet.”
“You and me both,” Jonathan said.
“I just don’t know how to feel,” David said. “It’s like, I really liked her. Right? Then she turns out to be totally not what I thought, but I miss who I thought she was. It’s like missing a mask or something. Totally weird.”
“WITE,” Jonathan said.
“Huh?”
“Weird in the extreme,” he explained.
David smiled halfheartedly. He looked out the window and then turned from the glass.
“Man,” David said. He shook his head and peered into his coffee cup. When he gazed up, he looked supremely serious. “I’m really sorry about everything that happened. I mean, everything with Kirsty. I was acting like a total tool.”
“It wasn’t your fault. She manipulated us both.”
Jonathan left it at that. What he knew—and what he didn’t want David to know—was that Kirsty only used David to get closer to Jonathan. She knew he wasn’t interested in her, not at first. But by turning Jonathan against David, making him think his friend was a killer, they would come together against him. And that’s what happened…at least for a while. Kirsty wanted Jonathan isolated, alone. She could have just killed David, but that wouldn’t have brought her any closer to Jonathan. If anything, it would have driven him farther away. No. She needed David as a scapegoat, needed to use him and hurt him. She probably would have killed him if Jonathan hadn’t stopped her.
Another good reason for Jonathan to feel nothing but relief that she was gone.
“So, what happens now?” David asked.
“Now?” Jonathan asked. “What do you mean?”
“Well, are you all magical like she thought or what?”
Jonathan laughed and lifted his coffee for a sip. He let the liquid sit on his tongue and shook his head. “No. I’m not all magical. The only reason those things went after her instead of me is because I dropped her picture in the goblet when I was trying to take mine out. She worked the magic. I just got lucky.”
“Damn,” David said. “But like, have you tried anything? Like a spell? I mean, did you find her stash of sorceress gear? Did she have books wrapped in human skin?”
“I only found one book,” Jonathan said. “It was her diary. Weird-ass stuff.”
“Like what?”
“She called herself Adrian. It was a name she liked. She hated being called Kirsty. She was going through this great transformation, and when she finished she was going to emerge as Adrian. It was like a slam against her father, because he hated the name. Adrian was his sister’s name, and she was a full-on whack job.”
“But didn’t she already kill her father?”
“Like you said, freak salad.”
“Did you keep it?”
“The diary?” Jonathan asked. “Hell no. I mean, it connected her to the murders. She had these entries with the names of everyone that died. You’ve seen the news. The cops know she was involved. They may not believe she actually had ghosts killing people, but they know she was responsible.”
“They haven’t talked to you at all?”
“Yeah, they did,” Jonathan said. “But it was just to see if I was alive. They found my name in her diary and my picture at her house, but I think they’re done with me. No one saw me at her place except you. They probably have my fingerprints, but what are they going to check them against?”
“So it’s over?”
“Yeah, David. It’s over.”
Life could go on. And it seemed to be getting better. Emma was out of the hospital now. Jonathan called her, totally surprising himself with the gesture. It was nice to hear her sounding so awake and happy. She didn’t remember a thing about what happened to her in the library stairwell, and Jonathan figured that was for the best. Emma didn’t sound particularly upset at all. She called herself a klutz and laughed. They chatted for over an hour. Before hanging up, she promised to buy him that coffee next Monday after school.