Unconscious on a hovering cot, Trey is surrounded by odds and ends of wires and tubes. They appear to be some sort of monitoring system, checking his vital signs. A thick metal band clamps his brow and wraps around the circumference of his head. The band has readouts made of flashing lights.
I eliminate the space between us, if not the time, by crawling in bed beside him, cuddling my phantom form up to his real one. “I’m here,” I say the words, but I don’t know if he can hear me. Maybe they’re just thoughts.
From around the corner comes the thump of running feet. Astrid skitters into the room with a startled expression on her face. She reaches out and grasps the back of a chair to steady her tall frame. She bends a bit at the waist, trying to catch her breath. She clearly ran up the stairs outside to get here. Tossing her long black hair back over her shoulder, she straightens and glances behind her as Raspin tumbles into view. His large form fills the doorway. He sweeps the bangs of his copper-colored hair away from his face as he watches Astrid.
Giffen taps Raspin on the shoulder, getting his attention so that he can squeeze by his friend and enter the room. Giffen looks around in confusion and says, “I thought I felt—”
“Shh!” Astrid shushes him. She looks away from her two companions. “Kricket,” she whispers breathlessly, and as she says my name, it’s as if the sound emanates from within me even as she speaks. Her blue eyes—so like our mother’s—scan the room. Giffen watches her. He isn’t breathing heavily at all, even though I know he must’ve run up a ton of stairs to be here.
Astrid takes tentative steps to the middle of the room. “Kricket,” she says again as she turns in a circle. It’s a vibration in my mind—a thought. Her special talent of communicating nonverbally works even without my body being present.
Raspin extends his hand to Astrid protectively. “Astrid—”
“Hush!” she admonishes him with her finger to her lips. “She’s here! I know it.”
“How do you know?” Raspin asks while moving closer to Astrid. He peers warily into the dark corners of the room.
Astrid raises her hand and turns around again slowly, holding it out in front of her. She stops turning when she faces me again. She takes a step in my direction. “I feel her.”
From behind her, Giffen says, “I feel her too.”
I ignore them. “Trey,” I try to speak to him. I see him breathing, but his normally vibrant skin is pale and drawn.
Astrid’s head snaps in our direction. “It is you! I knew I felt you!” She turns to Raspin and says, “It’s her! She’s here!” Raspin’s tall Frankenstein-like frame inches closer to Astrid. He hovers indecisively, as if I pose a threat to her in my astral state. He clearly can’t hear me. Scratching his long, copper-colored head, he adopts a vacant stare, trying to puzzle out why he can’t see or hear me.
Astrid nears Trey and me. “He’s responding well,” she says gently. “He woke for a few moments earlier. He asked for you.”
“He did?” I hate the way that sounds—weak.
“Yes,” Astrid says, nodding.
“What’s wrong with him?” I demand.
“His brain swelled. We were able to decrease the inflammation, though.”
Fear infects me. “Will he be okay?”
“Yes,” she says.
“Does he know I’m . . . gone?”
“That you’ve been handed over to the Alameeda?”
“Yes.”
“That was never supposed to happen!” The words tumble out of her in a rush. “When I figured out what they did—”
“Does he know?”
She raises her hand in a helpless gesture toward Trey. “No. We haven’t told him yet. There hasn’t been time. He only just woke up and it was brief—I’m so sorry, Kricket! I didn’t—”
“Don’t! Don’t talk to me! Just go away. Leave us alone!” I warn.
Astrid flinches. She wrings her hands and glances at Giffen. His jaw ticks. Giffen growls. “Where is she?” he asks Astrid.
Astrid gestures lamely to where Trey is lying with me curled up to his side. “Over there by him.”
Giffen frowns. “How long has she been here?”
Astrid shrugs, the frown lines on her face deepen. “I don’t know. How long have you been here, Kricket?” Astrid asks. I ignore her question, mulishly trying everything I can to keep her out of my mind. “She won’t talk to me!” The forlorn twist of her lips causes Giffen to scowl.
Giffen raises his hands in my direction. He uses his power of telekinesis to connect to me in the most intimate of ways, infiltrating my spirit. Energy as thick as muddy water swirls within me. Giffen’s power spreads through me like a fever. It’s as if I’ve swallowed the light of the sun. His essence mingles with mine, and the sensation is nothing less than euphoric. I hate him for it. I shimmer and become a golden silhouette of billowing stardust and light—apparently visible to them, if Astrid’s gasp is any indication.
Giffen walks forward until he stands just next to me. Crouching down by my side, he murmurs, “Kricket, you can’t stay here. You have to go back.” He can definitely see me.
I’m not leaving! I think. I don’t need the ability to speak with him. He’s a part of me now. He’s interfering with my time with Trey. I have so little left.
“If you stay much longer, your body that you left behind will die.”
I know he’s right. The pull to leave is so strong.
“Your body needs whatever this is—” he waves his hand in my direction “—to survive.”
“Why do you care?” I snarl.
“You’re my—” he hesitates “—you’re frightening your sister.” His response is as lame as he is.
Even without a body, my response sounds like a snort. “I don’t care.”
“You’re no good to us dead! We need information, and you’re the only one in a position to provide it. You’re the only one who can get close to them. Stop being a selfish child!”
I want to lash out at him—hurt him. I want his heart to ache like mine does. “I’m not helping you.”
“Then help yourself! You should learn when to go! Your gift will kill you!”
“Good!” I retort.
“Your life is failing.” He pushes more of his own life force into me, strengthening the silhouette of me that is beginning to fade. “You have to go back! Now!”
“I’m never going back,” I reply. I look away from him. The shiny, gold stardust of my hair runs in shimmering waves over Trey’s chest as I rest my cheek against him.
“Then you’ll die!” Giffen roars as he swipes his hand across the side table, knocking vials of liquid and scattering them across the floor with a loud racket.
“You’re going to have to find another way in with the Alameeda. I’m done.”
“Why? What’s wrong? What’s going on there?”
“You know,” I accuse him.
“If I knew, I wouldn’t ask.”
“Please go back, Kricket,” Astrid pleads.
I stab her with my golden stardust stare. “He’s going to make me sleep with him.”