Meridian Read online

  The hair on the back of my neck stood up. My ears felt like they needed to pop, and pressure built in my chest as if the air was being sucked out of me. The pain in the pit of my stomach intensified. "No, Celia, no!" I stumbled away, trying to visualize the window, but an irrational part of me wanted to resist—as if I could force her to stay alive by making it harder. Waves of excruciating, piercing pain crashed over me, forcing the breath from my lungs. I couldn't move fast enough. Or get far enough away.

  She was dying. I knew this feeling.

  My left leg gave out completely. Pain radiated through me as I fell into a snowbank. "No, no, no." Tears poured down my cheeks. I could feel her leaving her body.

  I tried to stand, but I couldn't put any weight on my leg. It felt as if the bones poked through the skin. Custos tugged at my jacket and I dragged my leg behind me until I'd hobbled and crawled as far as I could. It didn't matter anymore; in that moment there was nothing left in me to fight. I leaned against a tree and focused on breathing through the scorching pain. My ankle throbbed and I struggled for each breath as I watched the scene unfold around me.

  "Celia? Celia? Where's my baby?" An older woman frantically stumbled through the snow toward Tens, falling to the ground with grief. As she ripped the child from his arms, I turned to the side and vomited blood. I heaved until nothing came up. The pressure eased fractionally, and the pain loosened its grip enough that I could lift my head.

  From a distance. I surveyed the vaguely familiar group before me as a tall, blond man said a prayer and made the sign of the cross over Celia and her mother. He seemed to be some sort of preacher, but his vibe was intimidating and oily. Where his features should have been illuminated by the headlights, there was only the black and empty blankness of a human form. I squinted but couldn't quite catch a glimpse of his face.

  Like someone had flipped a switch, the feeling of Celia's soul pressing into me, through me, disappeared. The pain began to dissipate like fog in the sun. I forced breath back into my lungs. I felt as if I'd been freed from my own inhumane trap.

  My teeth chattered and shivers racked my body. Celia liked Oreos, My Little Ponies, and helping her mom make chocolate chip cookies. I didn't know how I knew this.

  Tens came to check on me as the conversation escalated around us. "Are you okay?"

  I shook my head. "I don't know. My leg is messed up." The pain was slowly rolling off like a storm passing, but the effort had left me weak and ill.

  I heard Celia's mother wail as her father said, "She's gone. Honey, she's gone." He drew his wife up and picked up Celia.

  Tens gently brushed the hair from my face. "I'm going to borrow a snowmobile to get us home. Wait here for a minute, okay?"

  I nodded without opening my eyes.

  “What thing is this that thou hast done?" asked the rich voice of a stranger.

  I opened my eyes to blink up at the most handsome older man I'd ever seen up close. The blond man. A movie star. A Wall Street tycoon. Surely People magazine's Sexiest Man Alive. He oozed confidence, class, and charisma. He had such perfectly symmetrical features that I was spellbound until he continued speaking. “‘Cursed be he that taketh reward to slay an innocent person. And all the people shall say. Amen.'" He didn't take his mercurial eyes off me. Eyes that appeared as black holes. No white shone, just swirling, oily voids. I tried unsuccessfully to make my eyes focus in the odd light.

  "'And God saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually.' We're watching, you know. Waiting."

  Tens drove back into earshot before I had time to piece together this bizarre monologue.

  "Tens, son, I was just introducing myself to Miss Sozu. I'm Reverend Perimo. It's so good to meet you, young lady. Your aunt has told me so much about you." It was as if a full transformation had occurred. "I offered her a ride back to her aunt's, but I think she's delirious from the cold."

  "We're fine, thanks. I borrowed transpo." Tens's voice was smooth and modulated, but tension radiated from every sinew in his body.

  "You sure? She looks like she's got a bum leg there." The reverend's tone never slipped from friendly and concerned. I almost believed I'd hallucinated his odd language.

  "We're good, thanks." Tens helped me stand. I could almost put weight on my leg. I straddled the seat and kept my mouth shut. Wrapping my arms around Tens's waist. I laid my cheek against his back. Custos ran alongside us. I must have dozed, because I don't remember the ride home.

  Auntie met us at the front door, worry etching lines in her face.

  Tens lifted me from the back of the snowmobile. When I registered that he intended to carry me, I cried, "Stop! I can walk." I was a complete sissy around him—that had to change.

  "Sure. Tomorrow." He didn't stop. "You're a weakling, it's not a hardship." I swore he was teasing me, but he didn't crack a smile, so I didn't laugh.

  "Thanks." I wrapped an arm around his neck, trying not to notice how silky straight his hair fell against his neck. Or how nice he smelled. Or how safe I felt with him holding me.

  "My goodness, what happened?" Auntie asked, hovering. "Put her down. Tens, she's not a damsel in distress."

  "She's hurt." He didn't set me down until he reached the couch.

  "Okay, Meridian—what happened?"

  Chapter 12

  It felt like my leg was broken. It felt shredded." I fell back against the pillows and blankets. "I thought I broke it, but now it's getting better."

  "Right." Tens exchanged glances with Auntie. He shoved the couch closer to the fire and wrapped a quilt around me like he was rolling a cigar. I noticed his hands shaking.

  "You're growling like a damn grizzly with a bellyache. Move back." Auntie shooed him away and perched on the edge of the sofa to feel my forehead.

  "I'm feeling better. Really. Must have only been a sprain." I was trying to reassure both of them, but it was also true. Breathing seemed preposterously easy around Auntie. I felt more awake, less fragile, less sick.

  Tens loaded logs on the fire until it blazed and crackled. He paced, putting his hands in his pockets and then pulling them out.

  "Easy, we're trying to warm her up, not roast her for dinner." Auntie pushed him away. "Go get her clean clothes. Now, let's see about that leg." As Tens ran upstairs, she carefully drew my sock off and rolled up my wet pant leg. She glanced up at my face.

  The fire felt so good I could barely force my eyes to stay open. All that fresh air, exertion, and adrenaline about did me in. "Did I sprain it?"

  Auntie gently patted my leg, rubbing the skin with soft, whispered strokes. "Little one, what happened out there? Did you see Celia?"

  My eyes flew open. For a moment I'd been so happy to be back in this house, I'd forgotten what happened out there. "Celia, she ..." My voice broke and a tear spilled down my cheek.

  Auntie nodded, "She died, yes?"

  I confirmed this with a slight nod.

  "Did she have an injury of any kind?" Auntie rubbed my other foot and the tingles of warmth became pinpricks as the blood flowed back,

  I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and nodded. Tens hurried back into the room with my pajamas. My face flamed at the thought of him pawing through my stuff.

  "What's wrong with her ankle?" Tens set my pj's on the coffee table and crossed his arms, keeping a distance.

  Auntie sat back and peered at my eyes. "Nothing."

  I sat up and stared at my ankle, pale and unswollen. Not an hour ago, it felt as if it were the size of a watermelon. "But—"

  "What happened to Celia's leg?" Auntie asked, her expression knowing yet gentle.

  I closed my eyes. "A trap. One of those clawed ones."

  "And you were with her when she died?"

  "Yes." I glanced at Tens.

  He shrugged.

  "Did you picture the window?" Auntie asked.

  "No!" I shouted, pushing Auntie's tender hands away. "She shouldn't have died
. She was a baby. I could have done something. I should have done more. If I'd known first aid or if we'd gotten there faster."

  "Meridian, all your illnesses, your physical maladies, those are the souls tangling in your energy. If you didn't let Celia go—I mean actively picture your window so she could break through easily and painlessly—then her pain must have transferred. If you felt that much of her pain, you should have died. I don't understand how you're still alive." Auntie was puzzled and thinking hard. "I wasn't there—"

  "Do you feel their pain?"

  "Not anymore. But it requires practice. Once you're in control of the window, it never hurts. You feel it, see them pass."

  "So my ankle is fine?" I rotated my foot and it didn't hurt at all.

  Very strange. Then it occurred to me that I always seemed to feel better when Auntie was in the room, "It's you, isn't it?"

  "Me what?"

  "I feel better around you. Or am I imagining that too?"

  "Don't kid yourself. The pain is real. But yes, you probably do feel better around me. I've never really thought about it, but souls would pick me. I'm easier to pass through, so you're not getting bombarded. As soon as you become confident in your ability, your body will get stronger—you might even grow a few feet. I used to be almost five ten, would you believe that? Age shrinks the spine."

  "So there have always been small souls passing through me?"

  "All your symptoms are departing energy punching holes in you, trying to get through. When I'm around, they pick the easiest route: me."

  Talk about a headache. "But—"

  "Once you learn to stay on this side you can have your window open all the time, like me. You'll get to a point where it's painless, easy, second nature. You'll know when a soul is passing on because you'll see their heaven and know a bit of their life, but it'll be like watching a movie preview—simply a moment of their life shared with you."

  "Oh." I was too tired to process all this. The fire danced while Tens hovered.

  Auntie abruptly got to her feet and said, "Want some brownies? I have a hankering." She was already moving out of the room, muttering to herself.

  "Thanks. Chocolate sounds really good."

  I closed my eyes, leaning back into the embrace of the pillows. This was so confusing.

  Tens stood there, still and silent.

  "What?" I asked, keeping my eyes closed.

  "Nothing." He moved closer. Cleared his throat. "Do you want, um, need ... help with your clothes? Or I can ask Auntie to help you instead?" He sounded vulnerable and unsure.

  A blush stole over my face. But exhaustion sapped my limbs, making it nearly impossibly to move. "Please."

  He tenderly peeled back the blanket and gripped the bottom of my shirt and sweater.

  I must have blanched at the intimacy because he said, "I've seen it all before, but I'll close my eyes if you'd rather. Of course, I'm more likely to put my hands in the wrong places with my eyes closed."'

  I cracked an eyelid to see him smiling shyly. I raised my arms so he could tug the clothes over my head.

  He handed me the unbuttoned pajama top and for the first time in my life I wished it was satin or lace—anything more sophisticated and worldly than Sponge-Bob. Sammy had given these pj's to me last Christmas as his idea of a joke, but they were the softest flannel

  I owned. I unsnapped my snowpants and lowered the zipper. Tens moved to my feet. "Lift your hips."

  I did and pushed the nylon down my legs. He carefully and slowly drew the pants off my legs, replacing them with SpongeBob and letting me finish hauling them all the way up. It registered in the girlie part of my heart that he was the first boy to ever see this much of my skin.

  Tens stayed at the end of the couch, his fingers idly running over my ankles as if he needed to reassure himself that I was okay.

  Auntie came hurrying back in. carrying a tray of milk and brownies, and Tens rose from the couch.

  I ate a brownie; it tasted delicious. Auntie settled into a chair by the fire and Tens finished three large brownies before digging around in a basket filled with tools and chunks of wood.

  Maybe I'd watched too much television, but I couldn't help wondering. "Auntie?" I didn't know how to ask this question and wasn't sure I really wanted the answer.

  She sat in her rocker and pulled out her lap-sized quilting frame. "What is it?"

  "Are Fenestras ... Are we witches?"'

  "Goodness Gabriel, no!"

  "Are the Aterthingies?"

  "Aternocti? Not in the traditional sense, no." Auntie held a couple of scraps of cotton together, discarded one and considered another. "They are the DarkNights. Rather than letting souls transition back to the Creator, they ferry the soul to the Destroyer."

  "Hell?" Visions of fire and brimstone flashed through my mind.

  She nodded. "It has many names."'

  "Do the Aternocti want to hurt Fenestras?"

  "Kill us, you mean? Very much so." Auntie's pronouncement was so matter-of-fact, she could have been giving me a cookie recipe. But she squinted into the fire, frowning.

  A horrifying thought rushed into my head. "Do we want to kill them?"

  "No. that's not our job. There are warrior Sangre angels who do that, but if you're lucky you will never meet a Nocti, nor will you meet a Sangre." She shuddered and stared into the fire, forgetting her sewing.

  Even Tens paused and waited.

  "Oh." Visions of Buffy danced in my head I couldn't imagine myself in cute outfits battling demons. That wasn't on my list of things to do before graduating high school. High school—do I get to go back? "What about ghosts?"

  Auntie started stitching again as if a trance had been broken. "They do exist. Usually, their energy is trapped on this plane. They held on to this world rather than moving on."

  "Why?"

  "It depends, but it could be to see their children grow up or to protect loved ones. Sometimes they stay to watch over a place or a house. Maybe they're afraid to go on, which is silly since it's simply a change, not an end."

  "Are they, uh, mean?"' As in. were they trying to kill us too? Because I could swear I was being watched.

  Auntie shook her head and shrugged. "The energy has the persona of that which it lived—remember, energy can change form, but doesn't appear or disappear. So if they were evil in one life, that doesn't change simply because their bodies have gone back to the earth. The longer they're here, the harder it is to get them to move on."

  "Can they use us?"

  "They can be very dangerous. Meridian. Don't start hunting lost souls."

  "Why are they dangerous?"

  "Their energy is no longer tightly packaged. It's much easier to get tangled in them, especially if they have any reason to want you with them. It can be completely accidental, not malicious in the least. Just be careful."

  Lovely, another wrinkle to worry about. "Can anyone see us? I mean, as the light thing rather than just human?" My mind flipped to Senora Portalso calling me luz. Should I mention it? I kept my mouth shut. I didn't know yet whether or not it was okay.

  "There are a few humans who have evolved over time to be able to see us."

  "How?" Maybe Senora Portalso had seen me. I liked the idea of having someone else, an outsider actually know the truth.

  "Not every family of Fenestras gives birth to them. But Fenestra progeny without the power itself still have the ability to sense it and notice it. Think of healers and psychics, people who can see auras or move chi around the body with their hands."

  And here I'd always thought they faked it. My memory flashed back to the state fair last summer and the fortune-teller's booth I'd visited on a lark with Sam. She'd said I'd be going on a long journey and would be introduced to a future of light and dark, life and death. I'd told Sammy she was full of crap. If I ever saw her again I owed her an enormous apology.

  Auntie chuckled to herself. "Enough for tonight. But I have something for you."

  I braced myself. So far
her gifts hadn't been terribly fun. My expression must have shown my reluctance.

  "My journal. Actually it's our journal. Over the centuries, Fenestras from our family have added to, rewritten, and guarded the wisdom we've gained. It won't bite. I promise. I've kept notes over the years, hoping you would come. There isn't enough time to tell you all of it, so you'll need this." She handed me a leather-bound tome with gold edging and a ribbon tie. It was worn and mangled, the oil from many fingers leaving streaks on the pages, marks where the ink had run, and smudges on the cover.

  "Thanks." The darn thing was so heavy I had to use both hands to hold it.

  "It's been many years since my eyes were good enough to read it cover to cover. Perhaps there's a way to fight the Nocti that I don't remember. I will think on it—we should be prepared. Get some sleep." Auntie kissed me on the forehead and then went back to her seat by the fire.

  I stood up and put weight on my foot. It was completely normal, as if I'd never felt pain.

  "I'll walk you up." Tens shadowed me.

  Custos was already snoring on my bed. I laughed.

  Tens peeked over my shoulder and chuckled. "Bed warmer?"

  "Yeah. I guess."

  Custos blinked one eye at us and went back to sleep.

  Tens moved around me and turned the space heater up to high.

  I crawled onto the bed and picked up a framed photograph of my parents and Sam from the nightstand. How my life had changed since I'd snapped that shot with Sam's camera. Not for the first time I wished I'd been in a family photograph. Now at least I knew why I was always the one behind the camera.

  Tens stuffed his hands in his pockets and paused at the doorway, observing me with a brooding expression that made me shiver. He made me feel itchy and hot and unused to my own skin.

  "What?" I broke the silence with a bark.

  "Night." He turned and walked out the door.

  "Wait!" I called.

  He poked his head around the corner. "What?"

  "What did Auntie mean, there isn't enough time?"

  He wouldn't meet my gaze. "You have to learn to let souls pass before..."