Ari stared at him. His brown eyes regarded her curiously. "Can't you speak?" he said in a classic Texas drawl.
"Yes, I can!" Ari snapped. "And I live in my house. It isn't yours anymore."
Amusement lifted the corners of his mouth. "I didn't mean to offend. My name is Samael Lowood." He didn't address her statement about the house not being his anymore.
"I'm Ari Jones." She took a step closer. "I know who you are. I heard about your mur...about what happened to you."
"Good," he replied. "I won't have to explain that bit."
Enough talking. Ari closed her eyes and dug her nail into the cut on her finger. Are you real or a hallucination? Fire bloomed in her hand, bright and white-hot. She concentrated on the flames, stoking them until her legs trembled, until every nerve was as charred as her mom's pancakes. And now... Her heart clattered as she opened her eyes.
Sam stood in front of her, his brow furrowed.
Ari's breath whooshed out in relief. A million questions filled her head, questions she should be asking. She opened her mouth, and then snapped it shut again.
Sam cleared his throat. "Is this a bad time?"
"Nope." Ari curled her now-bleeding hand in her sleeve. She wasn't sure why, but something told her she shouldn't ask about Mara. Focus. Focus. Her gaze roamed over Sam. She had thought he looked tall in Mrs. Hartzo's photograph, and she wasn't mistaken. He stood at least three inches taller than her. His pale face contrasted sharply with his dark hair. He wore a crisp white shirt, a scarlet tie, and a black waistcoat with matching pants. A wool frock coat and leather gloves completed his dated look.
"A gentleman always wears his best attire," he said, grinning broadly and bowing. "Even ghost gentlemen." A few locks of hair fell over his eyes as he straightened. "You're not afraid?"
"Am I supposed to be?"
He looked taken aback. "I was under the impression that most people found ghosts unnerving."
"I'm not most people." Ari was glad they stood between the house and the grove of pine trees: no one could see them. No one can see me. Still, she couldn't keep her eyes from darting toward the house, as if she expected to see her mom in lime green scrubs, staring horrifiedly out the window.
"I don't know if you've noticed," Ari continued, "but most people can't see ghosts."
"You're right." Sam hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. "They don't know what they're missing."
"A lifetime of therapy?" Ari wrapped her arms around herself and met Sam's gaze.
In the Lowood family photo, his eyes had been shadowed, like dark and distant storm clouds. Now they were warm and full of mischief. What had shadowed them? Was it his parents? Anna and James had looked like normal people. But then again, her family had looked normal from the outside too.
"You look as if you're speculating something. I can probably guess." He took a moment to smooth his hair into place. "And the answer is no: I did not fall from heaven."
Ari snorted. "You're not even close." She tried to run her fingers through her own hair; it stuck to her skin like icicles. "Look, it's freezing out here. If I don't go in soon, I'm going to catch pneumonia."
"My apologies, I didn't realize..." A wry smile twisted his lips. "I can't feel anything, you see. I am dead to this world."
"It must be nice." As soon as she'd said it, Ari realized what a thoughtless thing it was to say to a ghost.
Sam crossed his arms behind his back. There it was, the look he'd had in the photograph. His eyes darkened and his face became expressionless, like a canvas scrubbed clean.
"I didn't mean it must be nice to be dead," Ari amended. She picked at the stargazer lilies stitched onto her jacket. "I meant it must be nice to not feel things."
"There are times when I wish I could," he replied.
"I'm sorry." The wind took Ari's apology and volleyed it between them, unsure it would be accepted.
Sam's features eased back into a grin. "No harm done. Being a ghost does have its merits. It's taught me two things, at least: patience and how to efficiently spy on people in their baths."
"You'd better not ever spy on me. I'll murder you." Ari gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth.
Sam raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? I was murdered once already. I believe it's a once-in-a-lifetime kind of thing."
Ari's face grew warm. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
"Now there's something I've missed."
"What?"
"Making a lady blush." Sam tugged a silver watch from his coat pocket and twirled the chain around his finger. "As you can imagine, I haven't met with the opportunity in a long while. There's a shocking lack of modesty in the afterlife."
"Oh," was all Ari could manage.
Sam glanced at the watch before tucking it back into his pocket. "I shall return . I have something important I wish to discuss with you."
Ari's teeth began to chatter. "All right. Do you want to m-meet out here?"
"Of course not. I wouldn't want you to catch cold."
Ari imagined her mother overhearing. The house was out of the question. Maybe not, she thought. He did say midnight. Her mom always took a sleeping pill before then. "How about m-my bedroom?"
Sam looked thoughtful. "I suppose, although now that you've invited me I would suggest you dress decently at all times." He tapped one gloved finger against his cheek. "But not in the bath of course."
"You-"
"Now, now. Save the pet names for later." His mouth turned up at the corners, the ghost of a smile. "Until midnight, Miss Jones." His voice whispered on the air, even after he'd faded from sight.
###
A scent like burning matches met Ari's nostrils. It permeated the stifling air. Her first reaction was alarm, but this wasn't her room. It wasn't even her house. Her alarm intensified.
She stood in the middle of a darkened hall. Silence pressed heavily on her ears. A flickering yellow light sliced through the shadows thicketed around her. She took a deep breath and moved toward it. It grew larger and larger until she could see a doorway. Light poured out, revealing columns on either side. The images carved into them resembled a Rodin sculpture: skeletal figures with despairing faces, their mouths open in silent screams. It made her skin crawl to look at them.
A phrase was cut deep into the archway, made up of bending and twisting letters like disfigured spines. She'd never seen anything like it, and yet she knew how to pronounce each word: "Renich tasa uberaca biasa icar." Even stranger, she knew what they meant: The world desires to be deceived; therefore it is.
She walked hesitantly into the room. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, glowing with hundreds of red candles. Their sputtering sounded like incoherent whispers.
She mopped her brow with her sleeve. Heat coiled around her, squeezing her in its grip. She wondered if this was some sort of fever dream, like when she'd had the flu and dreamt she was vandalizing someone's room with Christmas decorations.
A noise like bones snapping made her whirl to the right. As she watched, three shadows rippled and swelled, as if they were drawing breath, and broke away from the wall.
The shadows flitted above her, circling the chandelier like overlarge bats. She caught a glimpse of them as they converged over her head. No. Not bats. They could have passed as human. Their clothes were a colorless sort of gray, torn and stained all over with something scarlet. The bottom halves of their faces were visible. They grinned down at her, showing two rows of razor-sharp teeth that glinted in the candlelight.
With a strangled yelp Ari sat up.
Bastet, still pawing at tangles of sweat soaked hair, slid into Ari's lap. Moonlight filtered through the window, spilling across the floor like molten silver. The only sounds in the room were Ari's labored breath and Bastet's questioning meows.
It had seemed so real, but it was only a dream: a nightmare. She had hoped to leave those behind.
Ari hugged Bastet to her chest and leaned back against the pillows. Over the last few months, she'd been having strange dreams-places she'd never been, odd things she didn't understand. The night before leaving for Texas, she'd dreamed about a pile of broken stone covered in snow and glitter.
What had she been dreaming this time? The harder she tried to remember, the more the dream melted away. She'd never had that problem before.
Bastet squirmed out of Ari's arms and leaped onto the nightstand, as if to draw attention to the clock. It was five minutes to midnight. Ari scooted to the foot of her bed and stared at a crack in the ceiling.
At dinner, she had acted the same as always. The last thing she needed was for her mother to find out she was talking to another "hallucination." It would have been straight to a psychiatrist, and in a small town like this, everybody and their dog would know.
Ari stood and wandered toward the window. The moon glowed silver and cold, a half crescent ringed in wispy clouds. The stars winked down as though they knew a big secret. She liked midnight. It felt like the world had just drifted off to sleep, and only she remained awake.
She gazed upward and remembered one of Old-School's sayings:The moon doesn't fear the dark; she speaks the language of stars.
A sudden blast of wintry air made Ari shiver, and she yanked the curtains closed. Of course her window was drafty.
"Hello."
With a muffled gasp, she spun around and saw Sam standing beside her bed. "Don't sneak up on me like that!" she half-shouted. She glanced at her closed bedroom door. "Can you at least make some noise like a normal person?"
"But I'm not a normal person," he replied.
Ari could've sworn he was holding back a laugh.
"I told you I would be here at midnight." He tugged the silver watch from his pocket and swung it like a pendulum. "See? 12:00 a.m. I pride myself on my punctuality."
"Never mind." Ari crossed her arms. "You said you wanted to discuss something with me."
"In a moment." His boots made no noise as he crossed toward the bookshelf. "Nice selection. Through the Looking-Glass was a favorite of mine."
"Oh?" Ari scowled at his back. "What was your favorite part?"
"The Garden of Live Flowers." Sam turned to face her again, a hint of a smile on his lips. "I'm glad flowers can't really talk. Especially roses. I'd never get a moment's peace." Before Ari could ask what he meant, he tucked his watch back into his pocket and gestured toward the bed. "Why don't you have a seat?"
"You know-" Ari strode toward the bed and plopped down- "you're incredibly annoying."
He grinned and smoothed one hand through his hair. "It's a gift."
Ari glared at him and scratched Bastet's tummy.
"A cat? It's a good thing I don't need to breathe. I'm allergic."
"I might have to reconsider my opinion of you then," Ari replied. "I can't be friends with someone who doesn't like cats."
"I like cats just fine." Sam wrinkled his nose. "It's their fur I can't stand."
Ari dragged Bastet onto her lap. "It doesn't matter. She can't see you anyway." She paused. "Great. Now my cat thinks I'm insane."
"I don't know about that," Sam said. "But I do know she can see me. Cats are attuned to the otherworldly. Why do you think witches keep them around?"
"Hold on. Witches are real too?" Ari shook her head. "Forget I asked. I'm just glad ghosts are a thing." She pointed toward Sam. "Bastet, what do you think of him?"
Bastet jumped down from the bed. She stared at Sam, as if she were sizing him up. After a moment, she narrowed her eyes and hissed.
Sam's expression fell. "I think she's being impulsive."
Ari couldn't help but laugh. "Don't feel bad. She used to hiss at my dad all the time."
"We're straying off topic." Sam smiled slightly. "What I have to discuss with you is far more interesting than an antagonistic cat."
"Do you want to sit down?"
"I would if I could."
Ari frowned. "You can't sit?"
"I can't touch anything in the mortal world," Sam explained. "I'm like air; I would simply slip through it."
Ari bit her lip. "It's not like that for all ghosts though, is it?" It hadn't been that way for Mara. The first time Ari had met her-in a coffee shop crowded with customers-she'd grabbed Ari's latte and taken a sip.
Sam seemed surprised. "Not for the ones who are friends with the wrong crowd." He moved closer and peered at Ari's face. "Why do you ask?"
"No reason." Ari lowered her gaze. Wrong crowd? What was that supposed to mean? Ari could feel Sam's eyes on her, and she lifted her head. "So you can't touch me." A slow blush spread across her cheeks. "I mean...um..."
The tension eased out of Sam's face. "Thinking out loud?" His voice held a hint of amusement. "As I said, I cannot touch anything in the mortal world. That includes people." He shrugged. "It's an unfortunate side effect of being dead."
Ari motioned at the floor. "Then how are you standing there?"
"I'm not." He drifted a few feet into the air, as if he were being lifted on an invisible wire. "I'm floating, as ghosts are wont to do."
"And when we were outside?"
"The same." He moved into a reclining position, crossing his legs and folding his arms behind his head. He appeared to be sitting in an invisible armchair. "I've merely been observing the rules of physics. Besides, I felt it would be bad manners to float so early in the relationship."
Ari watched him drift around her room. "It's like you're flying without wings."
A startled look passed over Sam's face, and then, before Ari was sure she'd seen it, it was gone.
She took a moment to observe him. His dark hair fell smoothly into place. A tiny scar shaped like a sickle stood out on the right side of his mouth. His was a face like a classic work of art, a masterpiece of charm and grace. Her eyes traveled over his mouth. His lips were turned up in amusement, making the scar dimple. She looked away, but it was too late-he had caught her. How long had she been staring?
"Though this conversation is clearly appealing to you," said Sam, grinning widely, "I must steer it in another direction."
Ari feigned innocence, but her burning cheeks gave her away. She busied herself picking cat hair off her pajamas. Her head snapped up as the space beside her desk crackled with yellow-orange light. Goosebumps prickled along her neck. "Why are you doing that?"
"I'm not." Sam floated back down to the floor, his expression grim. "This can't be good."
A final burst of sparks filled the room with the scent of burning matches. In the sparks' place stood a thing about the size of a toddler. Ari jumped to her feet.
"Ari Jonesss," the thing rasped in a sibilant voice. It had scaly gray skin, a head shaped like an overripe tomato, and eyes like bottomless pits. "I have a messsage for you."
"What is that?" Ari grabbed her pillow and held it out in front of her.
"Don't be alarmed." Sam exhaled a long breath. "It's only a Harbinger demon. They're basically hell's mailmen."
"Don't be alarmed?" Ari forced a laugh. "Why does hell have my name and address?"
"They have everyone's-"
"Make it leave!"
"I will go once I have delivered my messsage," the demon said. "I do not want to ssstay here. It isss intolerably cold."
Ari shook her pillow at it. "Then deliver your message and get out of my room."
The demon cleared its throat and folded its claws over its stomach.
"A dramatic pause? Really?" Sam scrubbed one hand over his face. "Out. With. It."
The demon's lips pulled back into a sneer as it looked at Ari. "Find the Nanorian," it said, "and we will return your father."
"My dad..." The pillow dropped at Ari's feet. "What did you do to my dad?"
The demon giggled and shook its head. "Find the Nanorian. Find it, and you will get him back in piecesss." It paused. "Or did they say one piece?" It blew out a loud sigh. "When will I learn: Write the messsage down."
"Stop babbling." Sam stepped toward the demon. "You've said what you needed to say. Now honor the lady's wishes and get out of her room."
"Fine. Fine."
"Wait-" Ari's legs wobbled beneath her, and she grabbed the bedpost to steady herself.
But the demon disappeared in another shower of sparks.
Sam moved toward Ari and held out his hand, as if he'd forgotten he couldn't touch her. "Miss Jones?"
Ari stared at him, her mind whirring between panic and confusion. "What did that thing mean? What's happened to my dad?"
"I don't know, but I know someone who might." Sam drew back and tapped his finger against his lips. "There's no avoiding it now: you must come to the Darklands with me."
"The Darklands?" Ari forced air into her tightening lungs. "That's not another name for hell, is it?"
"Only demons and the damned live in hell." Sam smoothed a wrinkle out of his coat. "The Darklands is where I live, as does my aunt. She can explain everything."
Ari drew another shaky breath and pried her fingers away from the bedpost. She had to admit, she was afraid. But my dad. Something's happened to my dad. No wonder he hadn't called. He was in trouble. And he needs my help.
"I'll do it." She felt like she was Alice, about to climb through an enchanted mirror. Except the mirror didn't lead to some fantastical land; it led to some ominous-sounding land of the dead. "How do we get there?"
"We Soul Travel."
"Come again?" Ari couldn't hide the tremor of anxiety in her voice.
"Your body will be here, and your soul will be there. It's very easy."
"And my body, it'll be okay?"
Sam sighed. "Why is it the living are always more concerned with their bodies rather than their souls? Of course it will be okay. While your body sleeps, I will lead your soul into the Darklands."
Ari sat on her bed and squeezed the cut on her finger. The pain didn't bring relief this time. "I hope I don't regret this." She clenched her hands into fists to hide their shaking.
Sam floated six inches off the ground. "Everything will be fine." He gave her an encouraging smile. "Trust me."
But could she trust him? That seemed like something a rational person would learn before traipsing off to some place called the Darklands. This is like a bad joke: A ghost and a demon walk into a bar... Ari took a deep breath to steady her nerves. "Tell me what to do."
"Lie down." Sam rolled his shoulders, as though he were preparing to push a boulder up a hill.
"Hey. I'm not that heavy."
"I didn't mean..." Sam's eyes skittered away. "Leading a soul into the Darklands isn't an easy task."
"Don't get your tie in a knot." Ari lay down on her bed, her heart beating out of her chest. "I was trying to lighten the mood." Her pendant rose and fell beneath the thin cotton of her shirt.
"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"
"What are you talking about?"
Sam pointed at Ari's chest. "Your Abraxas."
"My what?"
"Curiouser and curiouser." Sam gazed at the pendant. "Who gave that to you?"
"Why do you assume someone gave it to me?"
"Because you don't know what it is." Sam squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Who gave it to you? And if you say your father..."
"My father."
"Of course." Sam paced beside Ari's bed and twirled his silver watch around his finger.
"What's the big deal?" Ari leaned forward on her elbows. "It's malachite. A rock." She pulled the pendant from beneath her shirt. "Well, technically it's a mineral-"
Sam forced a laugh. "That is no rock." "Then what is it?" "An Abraxas is a powerful stone used in heavenly spells and rituals. The Lumic inscription confirms it."
"Lumic inscription?" Ari squinted at the pendant. "It looks like English to me."
Sam stopped short. "You can read it?"
"Of course I can read it!" she said, losing her temper. "It says, 'The stars incline us, they do not bind us.'" She pulled the pendant over her head and shoved it in Sam's face.
Sam looked at Ari the same way her mother had when she'd found out about Mara. "There's a sigil."
"A what?"
Sam tucked his silver watch into his pocket. "Never mind. My aunt will explain that too."
"Then what are we waiting for?" Ari pulled the pendant over her head.
"I admire your tenacity." Sam drifted closer to Ari's ear, yet she felt no warmth of breath-only a cold chill. "Close your eyes and clear your mind."
"That first part I can do," Ari said.
"And the second?"
"Five minutes ago, a demon mailman appeared in my bedroom." Ari glared at Sam through one eye. "Clearing my mind might require a tranquilizer."
"I'm sorry." Sam moved to touch Ari's shoulder. His hand fell to his side instead. "At least try."
Ari squeezed the cut on her finger. "I never said I wouldn't." Pain seared through her, scorching everything in its path. Hollowing her out. Silence shrouded the room.
"Inhale and exhale in time with your heartbeat," Sam murmured.
Ari imagined she could feel each word caressing her cheek. Her heartbeat fluttered in her chest. She counted her breaths. One...two... A door formed out of the darkness. Her face-wide-eyed and pale-reflected in its mirrored surface.
A shadow appeared beside her. Her breath guttered as it brushed her wrist.
Go on.
She reached forward with trembling fingers. The world twisted beneath her, a flurry of falling stars and creeping night. She was somewhere and nowhere.
"Open your eyes, Miss Jones."
She did and sucked in a breath of frigid air.
"Welcome to the Darklands."