The Eighth Gate

29 | Lighthouse Point

When Noah got back to Mary’s place, he expected she’d already be asleep, knocked out by her pills and by the exhaustion she kept complaining about over not having slept much the night before.

Instead he was greeted by an empty, neatly made bed with a torn notebook page lying on top of it. He recognized her girly, slightly slanted handwriting immediately.

Noah,

Went over to Tam’s; she wanted to talk things through. Sorry I couldn’t wait for you. You know how impatient I am.

- Mary

“I can’t believe her,” Noah told Avery, groaning. His ghostly eyes instantly darted to the space between Mary’s bed and her night table, where she kept all her demon-fighting weapons and supplies. The space was thankfully empty. “At least she had the cautiousness to take all the stuff. Come on; let’s go meet up with her.”

As Noah slipped back into the lit streets, he couldn’t help but feel a prick of doubt stir in the back of his mind. Doubt and fear. It was around eight in the evening—the sky’s color was almost completely faded, a wash of darkness bleeding into it; cars were out and about as people drove home after a long day of work in the nearest big city—and some small part of Noah couldn’t find it likely that Tam would want to meet with Mary at such an inconvenient time. Not to mention that, considering Noah had left Mary around five when she went downstairs to eat dinner, he doubted she’d  be reckless enough to stay out too late into the night. Especially when she was probably doing this behind her parents’ backs and she was already in deep trouble as it was due to what had happened the night before.

Noah tried his best to contain his worry, to not let it fester and consume his mind. He tended to do that when matters concerned Mary. Avery was gesturing for them to go up, pointing a finger eagerly at the star-speckled sky. He cracked a grin and grabbed her tiny hand, unable to resist the thrill of flying like a bird, like a plane, like a superhero.

This was how the pair travelled around Cullis Port. And in Noah’s—and undoubtedly Avery’s—opinion, it was the right way. The only way.

“Ready?” he asked her. Avery nodded fervently. Then he shot up like a rocket, flying up so high that they touched the clouds. Below them, Cullis Port was a mass of sparkling Christmas lights and a maze of snaking roads and houses and bare, spindly treetops. Clumps of melting snow glittered from rooftops, chimneys coughed out puffs of smoke, windows glowed with the yellow hue of being warm on a cold winter evening. And south of it all was the disturbed ocean, its waves licking at Cullis Port like a hungry child attacking a lollipop; the navy blue sea would come and go with the tide, battering against Cullis Port’s side like it was slowly eating it away with all that tireless eroding and chipping.

In Noah’s opinion, this was the only good thing about being a dead ghost. This breathtaking view, this dizzying thrill was like a shot of adrenaline to his numbed body and soul. It was invigorating; it made him feel as close to being alive as he thought he could ever get again. It had felt this way when he had kissed Mary—and even being in her presence sometimes jolted him with that sense of aliveness, but not as extreme. This little stolen moment right here, just like the moment he spent with Mary’s lips solid on his, was pure bliss.

 Avery, the little thrill seeker, spread her arms like a bird and pretended to fly. Noah mimicked her, and together they flew over to Tam’s house in a matter of minutes, landing gracefully on her front lawn.

There was only one issue that quickly became apparent once they went inside. The house was empty, save for Tam’s father who was in his own little world in the basement. Noah checked everywhere, even the closets, the toilets. But Mary and Tam were nowhere to be found.