When Felix jerked Kasper outside the body, something came loose. Oscar grunted – a chest-deep, involuntary noise of shock. His soul split open as it was torn away from his body. There was a sudden explosion of golden energy.
Harriet couldn’t help herself. She gulped down Oscar’s spirit. It swelled inside her, burning along her veins faster than she could control. There was more than she’d anticipated – far more than the weak remnants of life she’d absorbed from the Shells.
She tried to pull away, but the torrent was too strong. The energy came faster and faster, and she couldn’t make it stop. Then she didn’t want it to stop, and relaxed in ecstasy, letting it gush into her in an endless stream of delicious life.
Oscar screamed.
Kasper screamed.
Felix wailed.
Harriet moaned. She could feel the tender skin on the pads of her fingers splitting open from the pressure of absorbing so much energy.
Finally, the flow of energy slowed to a trickle. Oscar collapsed to the ground, completely limp. A white fire burned inside Harriet, so strong that she didn’t know if it was killing her, or the only thing keeping her alive. She’d thought that she had overdosed on energy before, but this was something new. Her brain was rewriting itself, blowing out the nerves and replacing them anew. She wasn’t just Harriet any more – she was a god.
Harriet looked down and smiled.
FELIX
Felix knew the second that Oscar died, because Kasper went limp in Felix’s arms, gasping for breath as the urge to possess left him.
“Is he…?” Felix asked.
Harriet looked like she was laughing. He wanted to rip her heart right out of her chest.
“Yes,” Kasper said. “He’s dead. I’m so – I’m so sorry.”
Belatedly, Felix released him. Tears dripped from his jaw. He rubbed them away absently.
He’d always braced himself for his brother’s death. The year that Oscar didn’t turn up, when Felix would know that he’d lost his brother for good. He’d never expected to watch the life sucked from Oscar’s body. He’d had the power to stop it happening, but he was too weak.
He sobbed, closing his eyes against it all. He couldn’t process what had happened. He didn’t want this to be real. He didn’t want to have to deal with this. He couldn’t.
His twin was old, but not old enough. Felix had wanted to see what that hair looked like when it was grey, what that face looked like covered in wrinkles.
He dropped to his knees, wishing desperately that he could touch him, and feel the last traces of warmth leach from his skin.
Kasper laid a hand on his shoulder. And then gasped.
Oscar’s ghost was hovering above the corpse, looking around in confusion. He saw Felix and broke into an enormous smile.
Oscar stepped forward. “Felix,” he said, arms outstretched to hug him.
Felix jolted forward into the embrace. They touched for the first time in over twenty-five years. Then Oscar trembled and disintegrated into nothing.
Felix’s heart broke in two.
Chapter 17
RIMA
Two days after Oscar Anekwe’s death, Leah sat bolt upright and shouted, “She’s going to kill Oscar!”
She was glowing with the energy released throughout the room when Oscar died. The death had released too much energy for Harriet to take it all, and Leah had absorbed the rest.
Even though it had brought her back from the edge of disintegration, Leah hadn’t woken up. Rima had been terrified. She’d worried that they’d just pushed Leah too far, and something inside her had broken, even when she wasn’t a Shell any more.
“Oh, Leah,” Rima said, beyond exhausted. “You’re too late. Far too late.”
As Claudia cooed up at her mother, Leah closed her eyes, pained. “Where is Felix?”
Rima winced. “We don’t know. He disappeared after Oscar disintegrated.”
The day before, more police had come to check the building. Presumably Oscar’s family had reported him missing. They’d taken away the corpse, commenting on how much of a safety risk the abandoned building was becoming.
Rima couldn’t believe that Oscar was gone. There was something so tragic about him actually dying here, but not getting to become a ghost or see his brother. Especially after he’d loyally come back year after year to grieve for Felix.
Oscar had been so nice to her, when they were alive. He’d once found Rima struggling with some calculations for an assignment about painkiller dosages. He had been studying maths, so he’d explained it to her, drawing out diagrams and making sure she understood it all. It took hours. Afterwards, they ordered pizza and watched The X-Files together.
A few days before Rima’s death, she had taught him how to boil an egg in the kitchenette on the second floor after she’d found him trying to boil one in the kettle. They chatted as the eggs bobbled around in an actual saucepan, and then carried on talking over soft-boiled eggs and crumpet soldiers.
Harriet had no idea what she’d destroyed.
“How are you feeling?” Rima asked.
“I’ll be all right.” Leah rested her head on Rima’s shoulder and absorbed three rat spirits Rima had caught for her. She glowed a little brighter as she inhaled each one. “I’ve been a Shell before. If Claudia didn’t hurt anyone, then it was all worth it.”
Rima had been trying hard not to think about the baby. Claudia had gone to sleep for the first time since Leah had passed out, curled up serenely against her chest.
“Where’s Harriet?” Leah asked.
Rima stared out at the sunset, glowing pink and yellow behind the campus buildings. No one had seen Harriet since the fight, but there were rumours. Rumours were all Rima had to go on, now that Felix was missing, and Kasper was overwhelmed with guilt for attacking Oscar.
“She’s on the fifth floor. We think. Oscar’s energy was a lot to absorb. She’s probably still recovering from it.”
Leah nodded. “OK. So … how are we going to get rid of her?”
“I have an idea. But we should probably find Felix first.”
Leah was a bit shaky standing up, but seemed mostly unaffected by her extended sleep.
“Leah, how old are you?” Rima asked, as they began searching the building for Felix and Kasper. She had never seen anyone pass out after using their power like that – not even the oldest ghosts. She clearly couldn’t handle accessing her power at all any more.
Leah tucked Claudia onto her hip and sighed. “My full name is Aeliana Flavius.”
Rima repeated “Aeliana” under her breath reverently. Leah so rarely spoke about herself that the knowledge was something to treasure.
“It’s Roman,” she added.
Rima blinked. “Roman?”
“It’s Roman, because I’m Roman.”
Rima’s jaw dropped. “Roman. Roman? Like, from Rome?”
“Roman, as in I’m nearly two thousand years old. Around that, anyway. I’m not exactly sure when I was born. I try not to think about it. I didn’t exactly have a pleasant time, when I was alive.”
Absurdly, the first thing that came to Rima’s mind was: “But you speak English. Not Latin.”
Leah smiled. “You pick these things up. Facillimum est.”