When Your Light Goes Dark

Chapter Nine : Constancy

The city on that September morning was gray and shuttered, facing the dawn unimpressed. Anna felt the hollowness of it through the sidewalk as she and her family walked abreast of the cathedral. Mist stuck to her cheeks, and made her glasses useless. She barely noticed.

There was a reason she didn't like to enter the city proper. It wasn't the weather that bothered her, nor the heavy layer of smells unique to every city. Not even the people.

Well--not the live ones.

Anna wiped another beaded layer of mist from her lenses, and barely refrained from yelping when she slid them back on and found herself face-to-face with a ghost that looked like Jackie O. Gritting her teeth, she kept walking, accepting the shower of prickles and chill that raced over her skin. The gaunt visage warped around her, faded anachronism in a pillbox hat. Anna stared straight ahead. She had to force her eyes to fix on the living.

Deceased parishioners wandered or stood listless all around her, scattered across the churchyard and sidewalk like lost children no one else could see.

Anna could almost feel the warmth of her sister beside her, and their mother several steps ahead. It helped her focus. So did knowing that Peter was floating behind her, even if his presence was just as cold as the others.

Unlike them, Peter would look her in the eye.

Another ghost drifted in front of her, and she took it in stride. Some of them weren't so cold, but Anna could definitely do without the sensation of foreign loneliness that swept over her every time she touched one. She had enough aches of her own. Unfortunately, she'd learned long ago that she couldn't avoid the ghosts. People tended to notice when someone danced around empty patches of pavement all the way down a sidewalk. She learned to duck her head, and hurry through. Better a brief chill and dip in her mood than to be noticed.

Thankfully, the entrance to the cathedral was just ahead. The rough stone walls, graceful spires, and enormous, circular stained-glass window stood in solemn monument to all that had passed before it. Anna drew in a deep, grateful breath when they passed through the massive doors to the nave. Living parishioners gathered near both vents and braziers, seeking sanctuary from the pervasive chill. Anna didn't blame them for not wanting to stand outside. The churchyard was choked with spirits, and even those without her gift could feel them.

She'd heard it blamed on the stone, the hard ground, even a lack of tithes--but no one ever thought to blame the cemetery.

A matronly voice hailed her mother, in one of those faux joyous tones that never failed to remind Anna of why she disliked attending church. She watched as Sharon summoned a genuine smile in response, and felt an odd mixture of pity and pride.

Mitsi nudged Anna with a foot. "You wanna find the food?" she murmured.

"Yeah, totally," Anna replied.

She glanced backward once, over her shoulder, when they got to the doorway. Their mother was nodding seriously, while her captor gestured and spoke. It reminded Anna of something she'd seen in a movie. Their mother looked so small in her unadorned pantsuit; a dun sparrow, accosted by a peacock.

"She can take care of herself," Mitsi groused beside her, "you know she can. Come on." One of her hands found Anna's and tugged, reminding Anna that her sister wasn't always a brat.

"I feel bad, though," Anna said, lingering.

"Well, it is your fault we're even here," Mitsi said, "but Mom's been doing the church thing for a minute. She's got this."

As they watched, Sharon politely bowed from the conversation, moving toward the pews. The peacock didn't waste a single breath before pouncing on someone else.