Body & Soul

“That was fun,” I said through gritted teeth, collapsing into the passenger seat of Will's battered Dodge. My heart was pounding way too hard from the adrenaline rush, and pain shot up my leg in uneven bolts of agony.

“Hands in,” Will warned before slamming my door shut and scrambling around the car and into the driver's seat. Once he was inside, he cranked the engine and peeled out of the parking space in reverse. “Are they coming?” His gaze was fixed behind us as he backed out.

“How should I know? Unless they're talking about following us, they could be in the freaking car for all I know.” Which wasn't quite true, but I was feeling a tad irritable because once more I didn't have answers, and did have — hello? — intense pain. God, I'd forgotten how much it could hurt to be alive. And to be scared. Really and truly scared.

I squeezed my hands together to stop them from shaking. There'd been a moment when I wasn't sure, when I thought the spirits might try to stop us, and we would have been screwed. Will's abilities gave spirits physicality around him. They were as real and as capable of violence against him as any living person. I'd seen it happen before. Crowds of the dead pushing and shoving at him to get his attention. It wouldn't take much to turn it into a tug-of-war with Will as the rope.

And me, too, most likely. I shuddered at the idea. We hadn't tested whether ghosts could touch me and vice versa. I'd taken a leave of absence, sort of, from my spirit-guide duties. Since my “transformation,” I'd been doing my best to stay away from disembodied voices, including those belonging to the spirits waiting for Will's help. If it turned out they could touch me — and there was a decent chance that would be the case — I would be utterly defenseless against them, just as Will was. His theory was that it was better to risk only one of us until we figured all of this out. So he was doing his best to manage them without me, relatively unsuccessfully, from what I'd heard.

“You were seeing something, though, I could tell.” He spared me a glance as he shifted into drive, and I crossed my arms over my chest, hiding my hands so he couldn't see the trembling.

“Distortions, like shimmery spots in the air.” I shook my head, and he accelerated toward the exit, the tires spewing gravel behind us. “I don't know. It's—”

The car hit a pothole, jarring my leg, and I sucked a breath in through my teeth.

He slowed down and looked over at me. “Are you okay?”

I shifted in the seat, putting more weight on my right hip, trying to alleviate the pressure on my left leg, which, at the moment, felt like it was going to explode into a thousand pieces. “I'll be fine,” I said, trying to sound like I meant it. “Just go, get us out of here.”

He complied, but I couldn't help but notice that he also took care to avoid the worst of the holes until we reached the smoother pavement of the street. “What you did back there…” He hesitated.

No, no, not getting into this. “I was saving my ass as much as yours,” I pointed out quickly, trying to stop this topic in its tracks.

He shook his head. “No, you weren't.” He sounded almost stunned, which, frankly, stung a bit. “Until you said something, they didn't know you were different, that you were anything other than a regular living person.”

Which meant I'd been dumb, dumb, dumb to stick my neck out. But I couldn't leave him like that, defenseless and trapped, even if it meant risking myself. And that was so unlike what I would have done a few months ago, it unnerved me. I definitely did not want to talk about it.

I forced a shrug. “If they'd started tossing you around or something, somebody would have probably called the cops, and then we'd have to go through that whole is-he-crazy-or-not conversation, not to mention a hospital trip to get you fixed up.” I sighed. “And I don't have the time or patience for that today.”

He made a face. “Can you just let me say thank you?”

“There's nothing to thank me for,” I snapped, growing more and more uncomfortable with the conversation. I… I cared too much about him, and this should not have been happening. It was way too big of a risk for me, leaving myself open to that kind of vulnerability. “You could have done it yourself. Should have done it yourself.”

And short of that, what he probably should have done was find himself a new and fully functioning spirit guide to keep his ass out of a sling.

That was the real trouble. Before, at least, I'd been useful. He'd needed me, maybe even more than I'd needed him. And that was the way I liked it. If somebody needs you more than you need them, you're the one with the power, the control. But now… now he didn't need me at all. If anything, I was a burden, a problem to be solved. I was worse than useless, and that sucked. If I had truly been the person he thoughtI was, the one he was trying to thank, I'd have told him to dump me and find someone who could really help him, keep him safe. That's what I would have done in his position.

But I couldn't make the words come out. Because that would mean I'd be alone. No, not just alone… I'd be without Will. And somehow that was even worse. I'd gotten used to him being here with me, and it was getting harder and harder to imagine my life — in any form — without him. Which was terrifying in an entirely different way. Just thinking about it made me flinch.

Will noticed, of course. “Do you need to go to the hospital?” he asked quietly.

“No.” I stared out the windshield, willing my eyes to stop burning with unshed tears.

He slid his hand across the seat, offering it to me. I looked at him, and he took his gaze off the road for a second to meet mine. My heart thumped triple-time in that moment, at the warmth in his eyes, the question that I wasn't ready to answer.

Hating myself for the weakness — because I knew, on some level, even this was for Lily, the person I looked like instead of the person I was — I took his hand, locking my palm tightly inside his. Holding his hand made me feel more securely tethered to the world, as if I wasn't going to float away and disappear like one of the balloons we used to release on the first day of Sunday school.

“So, why did he run?” I asked, shifting my attention to the side window and changing the topic, trying to pretend that this was not somehow more intimate than the kissing we'd done, that we weren't connected in this simple and yet powerful way that I felt in every cell of my borrowed body. “Malachi, I mean.”

“I don't know.” Was it me, or did Will sound a little unsorted himself?

“Better question: why did you chase him?” This time, I did look over at him.

He hesitated. “I think he recognized me.”

“Really? How?” I was pretty sure Will would have remembered and mentioned meeting Malachi before; dude cut a fairly distinct figure in that stupid cloak of his.

“I think maybe he put it together, connected me with my dad.”

Will did look a lot like his father in the pictures I'd seen, but…

I frowned. “We're talking years ago, though. If they even met. And he'd have to have left a hell of an impression for Malachi to recognize you from your dad and then also to run.” I shook my head. “Which doesn't make sense. The guy's a fake. What would be the point of your dad talking to him at all?”

Will shrugged. “Maybe my dad was hunting down con artists for the Order or something.”

“None of the other fakes were scared of you,” I pointed out. In fact, based on the sheer amount of false-eyelash-batting that had gone on, I was pretty sure Madame Selena might have tried to keep him as her houseboy/love slave if I'd been paying less attention.

“That's exactly why we need to talk to him again.”

“Again?” I turned carefully in my seat to stare at him. “Did you miss the part where the guy is a fraud? Totally of no use to us?”

“Maybe he can tell us what my dad was doing, give us some direction on what to try next,” he argued.

I snorted. “Hello, straws, we are grasping at you.”

He glared at me.

“Look, I know you want to know what your dad was doing, I get it.” I tried to soften my tone. “He was a man of mystery and secrets or whatever. But this, what we're doing? It's supposed to be fixing this, fixing me.” I gestured down at myself, trying not to notice again how much smaller this hand was; though, actually, it was far worse when I caught myself not noticing anymore. Getting used to this was not an option. I grimaced. “And Malachi can't have anything to do with that.”

Will's mouth tightened, and he gave me a look like he wanted to say something, but he just shook his head instead.

“What?” I demanded.

“Nothing.” But then he kept going. “It's just, you act like Lily is some kind of horrible punishment for you.”

I gaped at him and then yanked my hand free of his. “You don't want me in here, either!”

“I don't,” he said immediately. “But do you know how many people would kill to be alive again, eating doughnuts, smelling flowers, talking to people — other living people — and all you care about is what you look like in her body, which, to be honest, has always been more than fine to me.” The words poured out of him like he'd been holding them back for a while.

I sat back, stunned. Will had had a thing for Lily. I'd known that. It was a crush, over as soon as it started and nothing serious, but hearing him talk about it… that was different. “I'm not her,” I said, feeling slapped.

“I know that,” he said in an even tone. “I never said you were.”

And yet, he still somehow managed to imply that whoever or whatever I was — not Lily! — was somehow worse. “Well, which is it, then?” I asked. “Are you offended that I'm sullying your precious Lily with my horrible personality, or that I'm just not grateful enough for the opportunity to do so?”

“Forget it.” He grimaced. “I didn't mean—”

“Oh, no, let's talk about it,” I snapped. “Let's talk about how great it is pretending to be someone I've never met so her family doesn't get upset, let's talk about not recognizing yourself in the mirror, let's talk about not being sure who you are anymore because everyone who looks at you sees someone else.” I blinked back tears, refusing to let them fall.

He opened his mouth to speak, but I charged on. “And hey, before you bring it up, you're right. I did do this to myself. It was an accident, but it's all my fault. I love how I'm villainized for messing up, but Lily, who dumped you as a friend, fooled around with Ben Rogers, and wrapped her car around a tree, well, she's a freaking saint.”

His jaw tightened. “I never said she was—”

“Please, you've done everything but turn in the paperwork. Meanwhile, nothing I do is ever good enough. Have you thought about what those other people — those spirits who would be so grateful for this chance — what they might be doing with this body? What kind of post life adventures they might be taking with your sweet, perfect, never-made-a-mistake Lily?”

He didn't say anything, didn't even try, but I could see, by the color rising in his pale face, I'd scored a direct hit.

“I am doing the best that I can. For you, for me, even for Lily.” I gestured down at myself. “And have you ever even considered what it's like for me on a personal level?” I asked, weary of fighting with him about the late (sort of), great Lily suddenly. “I live with a family that's not mine, watching them care about me and knowing it's not really for me at all. I can't even talk to my family about anything — other than magazine subscriptions or candy fund-raisers or whatever excuse I can come up with to be at their doors as a stranger — without freaking them out. And then there's you…” I shook my head bitterly. “Most girls have to hear about a guy's former crushes. I have to wear yours.”

That shut up him up but, oddly, did little to make me feel better. We spent the last ten minutes of the twenty-minute drive in stony silence, which was fun.

This situation was, quite simply, a nightmare. I wanted to go home, my home, the one that didn't exist anymore. My mom had put our house on the market and moved into a condo a couple of weeks ago, according to the neighbors I'd talked to when no one had answered at home. At my dad's house, I'd turned a polite request to use the bathroom into a chance to look around and found that my old room had been turned into a nursery for my step-Mothra's new spawn, which was a girl, no less. Not that it mattered. It wasn't like I could show up at either place with a claim to belong there, especially looking like this.

More than any of that, though, I wanted my old life back. Even my afterlife had been better than this. At least I'd been me, and the people who could see me knew I was me. Now, at best, I might one day be free, back to spirit form and hoping for the light, but it couldn't go back to the way it was with Will. Not with knowing his true feelings about Lily. Like maybe he'd have rather had her back from the light than me.

Fantastic.

Will passed the Turners' street and pulled around the corner into Sacred Heart, as was our practice. The Turner house backed to an empty lot, and Sacred Heart, a huge cemetery, was across the street from that lot. It was my cemetery, in fact. Living as Lily Turner, I was now closer to my original body than I'd been since I was in it. Irony, right?

In any case, the cemetery groundskeeper's shed was on the outer edge of the property and the perfect place to hide the Dodge from view while Will dropped me off or picked me up. This additional subterfuge was, unfortunately, necessary. Will was still persona non grata around the Turner household — Mrs. Turner still blamed him for what had happened at the hospital. And my first attempt at sneaking out through the front door a few weeks ago had ended in the neighbor tattling on me, and my being forced to come up with a story that involved taking a long walk as part of my physical therapy (lie), and how if there had been a car in the driveway it must have been after I left (BIG lie).

I pulled at the handle and shoved the door open, ready to jump — well, stumble — out as soon as possible.

“Wait,” Will said. “I… I'm sorry, Alona.”

But it was one of those apologies that didn't sound all that apologetic. It was the “I'm sorry if you're upset” bullshit Chris and a couple of other ex-boyfriends had tried at various times on me. Uh-huh. There was a reason why they were exes. Well, reasons beyond my dying and, in Chris's case, his cheating. Though those were good reasons, too.

Will tapped an uneven rhythm on the steering wheel, watching his hands instead of me. “I think we should just agree that we're doing our best to find a solution to this… situation, and we should try not to take the stress of it out on each other.”

“Fine,” I said tonelessly. He could say whatever he wanted. It didn't change the fact that I still was — and always would be — the bad guy. For not being Lily, for not being grateful for the chance to be Lily. Whatever.

He sighed. “I'm going to try to see Malachi again tomorrow. It's safer if you stay here—”

“That's fine. I'm going to see Misty tomorrow.” The words were out of my mouth before I even realized I'd made the decision. But I guess some part of me had been mulling it over since seeing her in Malachi's waiting room. I knew Misty, probably better than anyone. She was not prone to scaring easily or imagining things that weren't there. Heck, when I'd tried to haunt her, she hadn't even noticed. If she thought “Alona” was haunting her, she probably had good reason to, and I wanted to find out what was going on, even if Will didn't. Someone out there was taking advantage of my absence and pretending to be me, and doing it so well that even Misty, the person who'd known me best in my old life, believed it. That was so not going to stand. I wanted to know who was behind it so I could kick ass accordingly.

He looked at me. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

I gave him a tight smile and felt the still-tender skin of my scar stretch painfully with the movement. “Then I guess we're even.”

“How are you going to get there?”

Oh. That would be a small problem. Misty lived on the other side of town, closer to where I used to live. Car privileges weren't exactly up for the asking these days in the Turner household — near-fatal car accidents tend to have that effect — and walking with a bad leg was pretty much out of the question. I shrugged, hoping it looked breezy and unconcerned. “I'll figure it out.”

He sighed and shook his head. “I'll take you.”

“So you can spy on me, make sure I'm taking proper care of Lily?” I demanded. “No thanks.”

“I'm trying to make sure we all stay safe, okay?”

“Fine,” I said immediately. “Then you'll take me to Malachi's with you, if it's about keeping all of us safe.” He'd walked right into that one. Not that I wanted to go — can you say giant waste of time? — but, by God, I was going to hold him to those stupid standards he thought were so fair. He couldn't argue, after today, that he would be safer without me.

He grimaced but said nothing.

That's what I thought. “Good. Pick me up here tomorrow at noon, and we're going to Misty's first.” I levered myself out of the car, using the door as support.

“What are you going to tell the Turners?” He was, unfortunately, correct to ask. Mrs. Turner was the very definition of overprotective. I'd had to wait until she took Tyler out shopping this afternoon to be able to sneak out and meet Will.

“That I've made some new friends with motorcycles and we're going to have an orgy in the park,” I said. It wasn't any of his business how I managed “my” family.

He threw me a dark look.

“Don't worry about it. I'll handle it. Unlike some people, I actually have a spine when it comes to dealing with parents.”

He glared at me, spots of red rising in his cheeks. And okay, maybe implying he was a mama's boy was a bit of a low blow, but it was true. I limped out of the way and started to shut the door.

“Hey,” he called.

I leaned down to see him, expecting retaliation for my slam on how he handled — or didn't — his mom. “Yeah?” I asked warily.

“I know who you are, no matter what you look like,” he said quietly, surprising me.

Maybe. I nodded at him and slammed the door before the tears filling my eyes escaped. But I was beginning to think the real problem might be that who I was was just not good enough. Apparently, it had been one thing when I was the pretty face and the good body, but now, when there was nothing left of me but me, well, that was a different story. And there was no fix — easy or seemingly impossible — for that.