18

B y some small miracle, Miles managed to fall asleep that night. After Gabriel left—Edmund picking him up with an impatient honk of his shiny silver car—Miles had taken the longest, hottest shower of his life, spent hours scribbling down notes on everything they'd learned from the past few days until his brain was mush, then fallen into his bed and passed out.

He was a bit clearer now, more focused. They had a next step: finding the old Hawthorne house and hopefully, Jocelyn's body. It could be the place from Miles's vision. If he could manage to shake this doubt that he was marching Gabriel straight to his own death under the illusion of good intentions and optimism, things would feel like they were looking up.

"Hey." Miles nudged Charlee with his foot. She was curled up on his bed, reading on her tablet, still grumpy with him after the scare yesterday but sticking close. "I was thinking… what if we tried bringing on another premonition? Maybe it'll show me more details and we'll know for sure if this old Hawthorne house is the place Gabriel's death is supposed to go down."

She lowered her screen menacingly. "You aren't serious, right? Did you forget what happened last time?" Her finger jabbed at the floor. "Because I haven't. I thought your brain was melting, you jerk."

He hadn't forgotten, and he wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of reliving it. It was reckless. But if they were going to venture anywhere close to the place where Gabriel might die, he needed to be as prepared as possible.

"Gabriel's going no matter what, he's too stubborn. I just want to have an idea of what we're walking into and if I need to… I dunno, tie him up outside or something so he doesn't get himself killed."

"Pretty sure that's his problem."

"C'mon, knock it off. Another glimpse of the future could mean the difference between life and death. If you don't help me, I'll do it on my own."

"You're a serious asshole, you know that? And if this kills you, you'd better not even think about paying me a ghostly visit because I will banish you straight to hell." She was fuming, but got up, stomping for the door. "I'll go grab some stuff."

"You're the best."

She gave him the finger over her shoulder as she vanished into the hall, making Miles laugh.

While he was waiting, Miles's phone buzzed with a text from Gabriel. Apparently, he wasn't the only one up early.

I was thinking about Florence. About why my great-grandmother might have given me the ring.

It was obvious to Miles. She'd given them the equivalent of a ghost bomb. There was no good way to spin that.

Gabriel sent another text before he could respond.

Perhaps it's so I can get answers from Florence herself. She knows what ritual was done and how it can be undone.

Please tell me you don't actually want to talk to her… She tried to KILL US

He set down his phone as Charlee walked in, her arms loaded with supplies. "Selenite, for clearing away distractions," she said without preamble. "Amethyst for clarity. Azurite and celestite for enhancing psychic abilities." She spread the crystals around him and handed him a corked vial. "Water I charged under the full moon. Add a splash to this"—she handed him a mug of cloudy tea—"and drink it."

"Isn't this a little much?" he complained, but did as she said. The tea was earthy and bitter.

She lit an incense cone, wafting the smoke towards him. It smelled sweet, of honeysuckle and calendula. "If you're going to do this, you're going to do it right."

Under her instruction, he crossed his legs and closed his eyes again, taking slow, calming breaths. He tried to visualize a door in his mind opening, ready and willing to receive premonitions, even if they wanted to fry his brain.

Time passed, though he couldn't say how much. Charlee was silent in his desk chair, occasionally wafting more incense smoke at him. It made him feel warm and a little sleepy, but not—

The nape of his neck tingled, the feeling spreading down his spine like an electrical current. It was an impossible sensation to describe but he knew he was being… watched. The weight of an unfamiliar stare. That prickle of apprehension.

He tried to open the door wider, consciously inhaling and exhaling.

Behind him was a lifted platform, a woman laid out on it. She turned her head and looked at him with eyes that blazed like twin suns, dark with determination and rage. Her face was tear-streaked, her hands curled into claws against the stone.

No, he'd already seen this before. He needed new information, a useful clue.

There was more, a kick of awareness behind his ribcage telling him it was just out of reach. More to see, more he needed to know, more trying to get through but it was blocked, held frozen and hostage and—

Without warning, the door slammed closed in his mind.

"Damn it." He blinked in the brightness of his room.

"No luck?" Charlee asked.

He shook his head. "More of the same. But I could feel something else trying to get through. I don't know if it's me, but there's a barrier holding it back. I can't seem to reach through it."

"You shouldn't be having these visions in the first place. Your mind is probably trying to protect itself."

"Yeah, maybe."

It didn't really matter; he hadn't seen anything useful. Yet another waste of time.

He'd put his phone on silent for the meditation, but Gabriel had texted him again. Aware of Charlee's attention, Miles kept his expression carefully blank as he read it.

We should discuss when we're going to venture out to find the original house. Unless you don't wish to accompany me.

Yeah, as if he would let Gabriel go alone.

He checked the clock—it was only eight thirty in the morning. Plenty of time.

No I definitely do. No solo ventures allowed. Besides you'll need my corpse-finding expertise. My parents won't be home until this afternoon… it might be smart to go before they get back and I'm grounded for wrecking my car

No point in sitting around waiting, either. As uneasy as he was about this, the prospect of doing nothing all day was unbearable.

"Texting your boyfriend?" Charlee asked, though it was less snide than usual.

Miles didn't bother wasting his time correcting her. "Yeah. I might have to run over there—any chance you'll let me take your car?" It was a big ask, especially considering what had happened to his. "Or you could drive me over and drop me off—"

"Nope. No way I'm going to that place. Take my car and know that your life is forfeit if anything happens to it."

On his screen, Gabriel's response popped up, followed quickly by another.

Lovely. You can be my cadaver dog for the day.

I can be ready in half an hour. The gate door will be open.

***

Bram opened the massive front door this time, that giant black cat tucked under his arm. He was in a charcoal sweater, his caramel-colored hair neatly combed to one side. The only thing marring his tidy appearance was a smudge of brown in the corner of his mouth.

"Hello again," he said. "Do you want to come in? Gabriel should be down soon."

He was a good kid, despite his inherited Hawthorne solemnness.

"Sure, thank you."

The door creaked as Bram closed it behind him, his cat watching Miles with shrewd yellow eyes. Its tail twitched, then curled around Bram's arm almost possessively.

"I never asked what your cat's name is."

"Oh!" He hefted the cat up a little higher. "This is Balthazar."

What was with this family and their obsession with weird, old-fashioned names?

"That's a nice name," Miles lied, smiling down at Bram. "I used to have a cat." Technically it had been a family cat, a scrappy old thing that lurked around the house, yowling and scratching at anyone who dared cross him. "His name was Fred."

"That's not a good name for anything."

Unable to stop himself from laughing, Miles replied, "I guess not. I didn't pick it."

As if summoned by the laughter, Gabriel appeared at the top of the stairs. He was in a black peacoat instead of the one he normally wore and had a gray knit scarf knotted around his neck. As he drew closer, Miles noticed faint bruising around the bridge of his nose and right cheekbone. They must've woken up similarly sore and battered this morning.

"Bram," Gabriel said disapprovingly as he came down the stairs, "you've got chocolate on your mouth. I bet there's syrup on your fingers, too."

"I washed my hands!" Bram protested. He got the same little crease between his eyebrows as Gabriel when he frowned.

Gabriel gave a long-suffering sigh. "Go wash up, and make sure Edmund cleaned the kitchen." He gestured at Miles. "And remember—"

"He was never here," Bram finished for him, exasperated. "You've told me a hundred times. I won't say anything. Mother never even knows when I'm lying." A slightly giddy tone colored his voice.

"Don't let it get to your head." Gabriel scratched Balthazar between his ears and the cat kicked up a low rumbling purr. "Cats don't like egomaniacs."

Miles's chest throbbed. It must still be sore from the car crash yesterday.

"Balthazar is an egomaniac." Bram grinned up at his brother, revealing a missing incisor.

"I can't argue with that." Gabriel gestured for Miles to follow him, reaching for the front door, then told Bram, "Don't forget that you're on lookout in case Mother comes home early. You and Balthazar both."

"I'll call you if she does," Bram swore.

Miles waited until he and Gabriel were out on the front steps, the door closed firmly behind them, before asking, "Should we be worried about her coming home early?"

"No. Bram just likes to think he's helping."

Miles noticed all the Band-Aids were gone from his hands. "Your mom didn't question anything yesterday?"

"Well, I can't hide this." Gabriel gestured to his bruised face. "But Edmund helped sneak me in without her seeing, and she left early this morning."

It would be nice if Miles could avoid his parents, too—the inevitable conversation when they got home today loomed over him. He exhaled, his breath hanging in a white cloud. "I don't do well with all of this. Lying, sneaking around, making up stories. It stresses me out."

"Because you're an honest person."

"I guess." Miles shifted, staring down at his shoes. "It doesn't matter, it will be fine. Anxious worrying is kinda my thing. Speaking of which, I couldn't figure out how to lock the gate behind me. Should we make a quick detour?" There'd been no obvious lock, but it felt wrong to leave such an easy way in through the wrought-iron monstrosity.

"No," Gabriel said dismissively. "We rarely lock it."

"Doesn't that kinda contradict the point of having a scary fence in the first place?"

"What would we be afraid of getting in?" He gave Miles a rueful smile that made it impossible to tell if he was serious or not. "The monsters already live here."

Miles wasn't sure what to say to that. Some of the monsters, maybe. But not Gabriel.

Gabriel turned back to the driveway before he could respond. "We should get going."

"Hang on." The bag in Miles's pocket became ten pounds heavier—he hadn't been sure if he was going to give it to Gabriel until now. "I actually—I have something for you."

He pulled out the small pouch and handed it over to a curious Gabriel, who tipped it into his hand. A silver necklace slipped out.

"They're protection charms," Miles explained in a rush, pointing at the pieces strung on the slender chain. He'd picked iron, obsidian, tourmaline, labradorite, and hematite, all hand-engraved with protection sigils. "So you won't get possessed again. And they'll warn you of bad auras, keep negative energy away, things like that. My mom makes them and—well, I know how your family feels about ungifted people, but she does a really good job." He pulled his out from under his shirt with antsy fingers, charms jingling softly as they knocked together. "I have mine on a necklace, so that's how I did yours, but they'll still work if you keep them in your pocket or whatever."

He hadn't been able to bring on another premonition, but he could at least make sure Gabriel had some protection from here on out.

Gabriel studied the charms. "I've heard your mother is quite good at what she does."

"You have?" Other families bought charms and ritual kits from his mom, but he'd always assumed it was for convenience.

"Yes." A knowing look gleamed in Gabriel's eyes. "My mother complains about it often. She's quite peeved by the reputation Sarah has built." He tucked the necklace into his coat pocket.

That information was better than any thank you. It also reminded Miles of a question he'd been meaning to ask. "Do you know why our moms hate each other so much?"

"Specifically?" Gabriel pondered for a moment. "My mother's never said anything. I presume it's more than the Warren name, though. She doesn't speak of your father with quite the same level of vitriol."

"I thought the same thing. The way they keep going at each other feels personal." Another puzzle to piece together, although it wasn't nearly as dire as finding a murderer. It only ate away at him so insistently because he couldn't ask his mom. "Never mind, it doesn't matter. Let's go before it starts raining."

The chill in the air was fierce and biting as Gabriel led them around the house, where the property stretched out towards the edge of a forest. Miles tried not to think about how toasty his old jacket had been as he zipped his thin hoodie up to his chin. He should've choked down his pride and brought the thick knit hat his mom had made for him. It was hideous—mustardy-yellow with a pom-pom on top that bounced jauntily as he walked—but warm.

"Do you know where this place is?" he asked, glad his boots were relatively waterproof as he tromped through the soaked grass.

"The Bone Woods are the only part of the property I've never been to," Gabriel replied, "but I know how to get there. I should warn you—my mother never allowed us to go there because she said it was too dangerous, that the land is rotten. That whatever poisoned the plants could poison us, too."

"Awesome." Just when he thought things couldn't get any creepier around here. Wishful thinking, clearly.

"I'm not concerned—she almost certainly said that to keep us away. There's something there she didn't want us to find."

Hopefully, the body of their murdered ancestor.

A worn path led from the back of the house into dense trees. As they crossed into the forest, the air grew thick with the earthy odor of wet soil and damp leaves. It was quiet, except for their footsteps, the water dripping from the thick canopy of branches, and the occasional bird call. Ahead, Miles could see the glint of water where the trees thinned out.

"Is that a lake?" he asked in disbelief. His brain immediately went to the thought of Gabriel in a small, wooden boat, paddling around the lake in one of those straw hats and suspenders over his white button-up, pulled straight from a romance movie his mom would watch every weekend.

"Only a small one."

"So, you've got a mansion, a lake… anything else?"

"The mausoleum and cemetery, but I've mentioned both of those before."

Ah yes, how could Miles forget about those two very common and essential things?

They emerged at the edge of the lake, the inky water glass-smooth, not even a faint ripple marring the surface. As Gabriel led them around, Miles could make out thick, tangled weeds glistening under the water near the shore.

"So, what's the point of having a mausoleum and a cemetery?" he asked. They weren't on any path now. The forest was thicker, where the feral beasts would be hiding. "Isn't that a bit repetitive?"

"Florence had the mausoleum built at the same time as the house, but it's rather small. The cemetery was added in later for extra space."

Nice and morbid.

"It would be a majorly bad idea to talk to Florence." Miles swatted at a spiderweb trying to cling to him as they reentered the trees. Moss crawled up the trunks, water droplets caught like gleaming pearls in a net. "Even if she has the answers you're looking for, there's no guarantee she'd tell you. Not to mention the attempted murder yesterday."

Gabriel stepped over a fallen log. "I'm aware of the risk. And it shouldn't be attempted until after we've banished Jocelyn and my death has been averted."

That, at least, they could agree on.

They walked for a few minutes, ducking under low-hanging branches and dodging pools of watery muck. The next time Gabriel stopped, they were in front of a low, metal gate held closed by a length of chain and a padlock.

"The Bone Woods are just past here." Gabriel pointed through the trees. "See where the white starts?"

It took Miles a second before he saw—slender tree trunks bleached white, their chalky branches stretched to the sky like skeletal fingers. It was a void in a forest rich with color and life.

They managed to climb over the wobbly gate without falling, though Gabriel needed a hand, landing a little unsteadily in the slick grass. If there had once been a path, it was overgrown and lost to the woods now, but Gabriel led the way, knowing exactly where he was going.

"You were never curious enough to take a peek?" Miles asked. He didn't have enough fingers to count the number of times his parents told him not to touch or mess with something. The second they were out of the room, he'd scurry over and start poking around.

He'd been doomed to be drawn to Gabriel the second his parents told him to stay away from the Hawthornes.

"No." Gabriel's mouth pressed into a tight line as he sidestepped a broken branch. "I learned early on to pick my battles when it came to my mother's rules. This never seemed worth it."

"Your childhood doesn't sound very fun," Miles commented without thinking, then felt terrible. "I just mean, you didn't do much lame kid stuff, you know?"

"What does that entail?"

"I dunno, playing tag in the house until something broke, then you had to try and cover it up. Racing bikes and crashing into a curb. Seeing who could blow the biggest bubble in their cereal milk." Gabriel had stopped, staring at Miles like he was speaking gibberish. "Like I said, it was lame kid stuff, but it was fun."

Gabriel considered his words for a long moment. "We had very different childhoods."

It wasn't difficult to imagine. Gabriel had told him his dad was never around and that left Felicity who, well… An icicle would've been a warmer parent.

Growing up poor, Miles had never really taken an objective look at the privileges he did have. A family that loved him. Parents who tried to be there for him. A house he was welcome in. Memories he cherished.

"Sorry." Miles was an ass for even bringing it up. "That must've been hard. But hey, if you ever want to have a bike race, I know the best street for it."

"I've never ridden a bike before."

Miles tripped over a rock and nearly face-planted. The cawing of a crow overhead sounded like mocking laughter. "What? Never?"

"That's what I said. I've never understood why it's such an important childhood rite of passage. A bike is practically a death machine."

Miles couldn't believe what he was hearing. "No way. It's the greatest feeling ever when you're a kid. Like you're flying." It was unfathomable that Gabriel had missed out on such a big moment. "The next chance we get, I'm showing you how to ride a bike."

"No, you are not."

"C'mon, don't be chicken. I taught both my sisters and they're both pros now."

"I'm not being chicken , I simply don't see the appeal of climbing on a contraption with a high likelihood of injuring me."

That pulled a laugh from Miles. He bumped Gabriel gently with his shoulder. "I wouldn't be a good teacher if I let you fall. It's easy, I promise."

To his surprise, Gabriel gave him a lingering look and said, "Fine. You can teach me, but racing you is where I draw the line."

Miles would gladly take that deal. Gabriel's smiles were rare, but he was willing to bet he'd get one when Gabriel took off down the sidewalk and experienced that magical moment of flying.

Before he could agree, the trees parted and they were at the edge of the Bone Woods.

"What did this to them?" Miles asked as they approached the first ghostly tree. It was pure white, its bark peeling in long strips to show the equally colorless flesh beneath. There were no leaves on the ground here, no plants of any kind aside from the trees. A graveyard. As the wind blew past them, the branches rattled like dry bones.

"I don't know," Gabriel admitted. "Nothing good."

That was an understatement. If the old Hawthorne home was here, could Florence's use of dark and forbidden rituals have done this? Sucked the soul right out of the surrounding forest?

They walked carefully through the Bone Woods, fallen branches cracking and popping beneath their feet, gunshots in the thick silence. Miles couldn't shake the feeling they were being watched, the back of his neck tickling.

"I don't like this," he whispered, keeping as close to Gabriel as he could without tripping him. The first sight of something coming at them through the trees and he was throwing Gabriel over his shoulder and hauling him out of here.

The trees started to thin out, the ground clearing. Beyond them, crouched like a massive slumbering beast, sat the ruins of a house.

It was beyond dilapidated. Miles could see sagging wooden beams where part of the roof had fallen away. What had once been windows were now black, yawning holes, and the ground was littered with chunks of stone, leaving gaping wounds in the house where they'd fallen. The front door was missing entirely.

So. The old Hawthorne home was here after all.

Miles stopped. "I really don't want to go in there."

The wind picked up, those bone branches rubbing together with the screech eerily similar to a violin, all the hairs on Miles's body standing to attention. The only song these trees knew was one of death.

"It does look rather unpleasant." Gabriel wasn't moving, either. "And dangerous."

Oh, Miles had no doubt it was. The roof seemed ready to fall in completely at any moment, the walls a single gentle breeze away from teetering over. And it was strange—all the trees around the house were white and colorless, all the plants long dead and withered away, but the house itself was covered in life. Ivy crawled up the walls and long grass grew on what had once been the porch.

"But," Gabriel continued, "we have to go in. Jocelyn's body could be here." Like he was trying to convince himself.

"It could be. Or it could be buried outside somewhere. Should we just check around here?"

"Don't ask me—you're the cadaver dog, remember?"

They both knew they were going in. Too many potential answers lay beyond that creepy, foreboding doorway. They hadn't come this far to not take the final steps, no matter how badly Miles wanted to walk away.

"Okay," he said. "We go in carefully. First sign of Jocelyn or any other ghost stuff, or ominous creaking like the house is about to collapse, we're out of there. No hesitation. Deal?"

"That seems fair."

Miles examined Gabriel. "I'd feel a lot better if I didn't know that you were wearing one of your stupid shirts under your coat, even though I told you not to." Sure enough, he caught a glimpse of a crisp white collar. "Be real with me—do you have a death wish?"

"No, I don't have a death wish. But if it will get you to stop complaining, here ." He unbuttoned his coat with swift fingers, handing it over to Miles, then his scarf. They smelled like him, crisp and clean. His evil button-up was next, revealing a plain white T-shirt underneath. Seeing Gabriel in a T-shirt was like peering into some wrong, alternate dimension. It was a strange relief when he took his coat and slipped it back on. "There, do you feel better?"

Miles did, even knowing that wasn't how this whole thing worked. "Yes."

Gabriel dropped his button-up to the ground. "Good, because I'm going in. You're welcome to stay out here if you'd prefer."

There was no way he was letting Gabriel venture inside alone.

"Let's get this over with," he muttered.