Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

Anora and the Funeral

Two days after Lily’s death, a memorial is held at Nacoma Knight Academy. A bruised sky emits a constant film of rain. I walk beneath it, uncovered, heels sinking into the earth.

I didn’t go to Chase’s funeral, a fact that wasn’t received well by anyone at my old school. I succeeded only in appearing insensitive. And it fueled the rumors that I had something to do with his death, since I was the last one to see him. Though they found no evidence, the speculation of my involvement circled me, and my mom, like a swarm of bees. I knew my absence from his service would only add to the talk, but I couldn’t bring myself to mourn for the boy who had tried to kill me.

But I mourn for Lily. For the friendship we could have had, for the role I played in her death, though I still don’t understand how it happened. I mourn for her friends, who gather here today, red-eyed and pale.

When I reach the auditorium, my clothes feel like they’re glued to my skin. Though the hall is filled with people, it’s oddly quiet, and the air smells like must, made stronger by wet feet dampening the carpet. Large bouquets of flowers are positioned at each of the auditorium’s two entrances, along with an easel holding a large picture of Lily. I stare at her for a long time, attempting to reconcile the Lily who attacked me two days ago with the one in the picture, but I know they’re not the same.

The one who attacked me was Vera.

I shiver, wondering if something like this can happen again. My coin is still missing, and I don’t know what’s happened to Lily’s soul.

“Hey.” Lennon comes up beside me. Her sudden appearance sets me on edge, but I manage to keep a lock on my instinctual reaction to defend myself. That means keeping the thread at bay.

“Hey,” I say.

“This sucks,” Lennon says. “We were just getting to know her.”

“Yeah.”

We’re quiet for a moment. I glance at Lennon and find she’s searching the crowd of mourners too. After a few moments, she elbows me to get my attention. I’m going to have to talk to her about that habit—it’s getting on my nerves.

“I think that’s the boy Lily was talking to,” she says, nodding to a guy with two long, black braids. He has high cheekbones and bronzed skin. His full lips are set in a tight line. He keeps his body pressed against the wall, hands folded in front of him. He doesn’t look up from the floor. He must feel so out of place among so many people he doesn’t know and a school that shamed his girlfriend for their relationship.

“His name is Jake Harjo,” Lennon says.

I glance at her. “How do you know?”

“There was more information about him on Roundtable this morning.”

On the day of Lily’s memorial? “That’s horrible,” I say.

“I warned you.”

Why is Lennon even checking the app still?

My gaze shifts back to Jake. He hasn’t moved an inch. I want to approach him so he’s not alone, but what will I say? I never spoke to Lily about him and what he meant to her. Plus, the coin I created had something to do with Lily’s death. I would probably just make him more uncomfortable than he already is.

“There’s Shy’s parents,” Lennon says, redirecting my attention toward a redheaded woman and a tall man with blond hair and black-framed glasses. They are a gorgeous pair, and it’s obvious Shy takes after his dad. Speaking of Shy—where is he?

“Maybe he’s not here yet,” Lennon suggests, reading my mind.

I watch Shy’s mom and dad longer than necessary. They interact with several adults, shaking hands, giving hugs, offering and accepting condolences. It makes me feel like an imposter. What am I doing here?

I don’t belong.

At that moment, Mr. Savior’s eyes cut to me, and my breath freezes in my throat. His gaze is unsettling in a way I can’t describe, except to say I think he knows exactly what I’m thinking, and he agrees.

I twist toward Lennon. “I’ll be back.”

I don’t give her a chance to ask where I’m going before heading down the hall, unable to shake the weight of Mr. Savior’s stare. I don’t actually know where I’m going, but when I see a bathroom up ahead, I make a beeline for it.

That is until Thane Treadway comes down the opposite end of the corridor.

I halt, torn between retreating into the bathroom and turning around to find Lennon again.

“I didn’t think you would be here,” Thane says before I can make a decision to move.

Dammit.

“Why wouldn’t I come? Lily and I—” I don’t finish that sentence. What can I say? Lily and I were friends? But I might’ve inadvertently killed her?

Thane takes a few deliberate steps toward me.

“She’s dead because of you,” Thane says harshly. “So don’t say you’re here for her. You’re here because you feel guilty.”

I flinch, because maybe he’s right. Maybe I don’t know the difference between mourning and guilt.

“I didn’t kill her!” I hiss.

“You might not have pulled the trigger, but you gave someone the gun. Isn’t that how you did it? You trapped Vera’s spirit in the coin and then lost it.”

How does Thane know this? When I don’t answer, he laughs under his breath.

“You have no idea how this all works, do you? This will keep happening, you should know. It can be a never-ending cycle. Is that what you want? More funerals to attend?”

I glare at him, nails digging into the skin of my palms. Thane’s eyes fall to my hands, and I jump when he reaches for my arm. “Stop.” His touch is like a shock to my joints, forcing my bones to straighten and relax. It takes me a moment, but I finally ask, “How do you know about the coin?”

“Lily told me some things. And then I did my own research,” he says, and his smile is like blood smeared across his face. “It’s not the first time someone’s gotten ahold of resurrection coins. Why do you think we have curfew?”

We stare at one another, and I feel as I did before in Thane’s presence—trapped. I don’t like being vulnerable.

Still, he’s had suspicions about me for over a week and hasn’t told anyone. What is his deal?

“What else do you know? And what do you want from me?”

He maintains that smudge of a smile.

“Meet me at June’s Café for coffee at three.”

“You can’t tell me now?”

He shakes his head. “It’s best not to talk here, and if you must know, I don’t mind getting under Savior’s skin.”

It’s then I notice he’s not even looking at me. His gaze has traveled over my head. I twist and find Shy standing in the crowd, frozen in place. He’s pale, and his eyes look like glittering diamonds. I’m not sure if they glisten from unshed tears or anger.

I turn back to Thane.

“Getting under his skin?”

“Yeah, I’m guessing he doesn’t want you to be friends with me.”

“Why would he care?” I shoot back.

“Oh, he cares. Maybe not about you in particular, but he cares about what you are.”

Those words hit me hard, like Thane jabbed me in the side with an icepick.

He looks down at me again before pushing past me. “See you at three.”

When I turn back toward Shy, he’s moved away. I shuffle back into the auditorium and sit in the back with Lennon during Lily’s memorial, not wanting to take seats from people who actually knew her well. The memorial consists of a slideshow of pictures, featuring familiar faces—Shy, Natalie, Jacobi, even Thane. There are others too, people I’ve seen in the hallway between classes or at Shy’s lunch table.

Pop music filters through the sound system, setting a surprisingly upbeat tone. I guess it was Lily’s favorite band. It conflicts horribly with the symphony of sniffles and sobs present during decrescendo or transitions between songs.

The last half of the memorial, people stand up and share stories about Lily. Jacobi goes first, then Natalie, and then Shy.

He stands under the spotlight, and it washes the color from his face, leaving behind just his bright blue eyes.

He clears his throat before stepping up to the microphone. “This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” Shy pauses and swallows. He keeps his hands in the pockets of his slacks and looks down at his feet. When he lifts his gaze again, he searches the crowd. I get the feeling he’s looking for me. “Lily believed everyone was worth her time. I don’t think she understood how much it meant to people. Maybe that’s my fault. I never told her. I guess hindsight is twenty-twenty. I’ll spend the rest of my life remembering how lucky I was to have had so much of her time—that she chose to share her smile, her laugh, her love, with us. When you leave here today, consider what you will miss most in the people you love—memorize it—and remember how lucky you are to love and to be loved.”

His challenge is morbid, but I understand. I press my hand against my chest where my poppa’s coin rests. Feeling the familiar pressure is comforting. I close my eyes and inhale, imagining I smell him—mint from the cream he rubbed on his hands, tobacco from the pouch he kept in his pocket for his pipe. I loved him so much, but it hadn’t been enough to keep him here.

My eyes water, and when I open them, Shy’s moving off the stage. He pauses to hug Lily’s father and then sits.

There’s a final prayer given by the headmaster—a strange one that doesn’t mention God or heaven—and then it’s over and everyone files out of the auditorium. I’m hoping to make a quick exit when Lennon stops me.

“Hey, since all the homecoming events are cancelled and everything sucks right now, would you want to hang out sometime this week? We could eat a bunch of ice cream and veg out or whatever? Maybe tomorrow?”

“Uh, sure,” I say. “I’ll ask Mom.”

Lennon smiles. “I’ll text you.”

I slip out of the auditorium and cross campus, heading to wait at Emerson Hall for Mom. I also want to check out the scene where Lily attacked me. A part of me hopes I might find my coin there, which is ridiculous, but I still have to look. Thane’s words echo in my head: This will keep happening…

That’s the last thing I want, so I have to do everything in my power to get my coin back and find the person who did this to Lily.

As I come around the side of Emerson, I stop, finding someone already there.

Shy.

He stands, staring up at the place over the doors where Lily hanged herself and where Vera had hung before that. Now there is nothing—not even the phantom noose. His hands are in his pockets, and while he appears casual, I sense his aggression.

I start to back up, hoping he hasn’t seen me, when I hear my name. I hesitate, too late to pretend I didn’t hear him. I have to get better at this, but it is the way he says my name: breathlessly.

“What are you doing here?”

I pause and turn, explaining, “I’m waiting for my mom.”

“Then why were you leaving?”

“I thought you might want to be alone,” I say.

He shakes his head. “That’s the opposite of what I want.”

“Then why come out here? Don’t you know all those people back at the auditorium?”

“I don’t necessarily want to hear how sorry everyone is,” he says. “Apologies don’t bring people back to life.” He looks back up at the building. “I thought I might find something here. Anything.”

“Any luck?” I ask.

“No.”

I don’t believe him. That’s the difference between him and Thane. Thane tells me everything he’s thinking, even if it hurts me. Shy keeps his cards close to his heart. I can’t decide which I prefer.

Shy stares at me for a long moment. His gaze isn’t searching, just piercing.

“Where did you learn to defend yourself?” he asks, and it’s clear he’s figured out I had an altercation with Lily.

“I didn’t.”

That is the truth. I hadn’t learned how to defend myself. I hadn’t taken any classes.

“You just naturally know how to kick ass?” he asks, quirking one eyebrow.

I hate denying I know how to kick ass, but this girl—the new and improved Anora—isn’t supposed to have those skills, much less need them.

It’s my turn to ask questions. “Where did you learn to defend yourself?”

“I’ve been training since I was twelve,” he says, and I’m surprised by his honesty.

“That seems a little extreme, don’t you think? We’re not going into battle.”

“You might not be.”

Those words make me shiver. I narrow my eyes and look him up and down. “Are you wearing a scythe?”

He smiles. “I’m always wearing a scythe.”

“I can’t imagine where you keep it.”

He lifts his head a little, and his eyes flame. “I’d let you search me, but I don’t want to be on the receiving end of my own blade.”

Just like that, it’s harder to breathe. I’m glad for the weather. The mist lands on my face, cooling my heated skin.

“You weren’t this eager to admit anything when you came to my house,” I point out.

“That was before my best friend died.”

Shy reaches into his pocket, and I go rigid, but he pulls out his cell phone and looks at the screen before pocketing it.

“I have to go.”

He starts past me, but at the last minute, I feel him turn so he faces my back. I know this move: he’ll snake his arm around my neck, pull me to him, and press something sharp into my skin—probably that scythe. Before he can get his arm hooked around me, I grab it and twist to face him, gripping his wrist. Shy smiles—I’ve done exactly what he wanted.

“If you want me to believe you aren’t trained, you’re going to have to stop doing that.”

I let him go with a little push, but he doesn’t budge.

“If you don’t want your nose broken, you’re going to have to stop doing that.”

Shy laughs. How can I find his smile so endearing when there’s so much mistrust between us?

“I’d rather our fights not end in pain.” He takes a step away. “Bye, Lyra.”

The use of my first name steals my breath. He’s done some digging on me. I watch him retreat until I can no longer see him, swallowed by a thick crowd spilling out of the auditorium. The more distance he puts between us, the colder I get. I end up huddled under the awning near the doors of Emerson Hall, shivering, scanning the ground on the off chance I’ll spy my lost coin.

Shy gave me a little of himself, but it didn’t come without a price. I feel as if I’m in a race. First one to discover the other’s secret wins a prize—preferably a normal life and absolutely no involvement in whatever battle Shy hinted at.

* * *

Mom takes me home, and she’s unusually quiet on the drive home. At three, I take off on foot to Main Street, not even bothering to tell Mom I’m leaving since she’s holed up in her room again. I wonder what Shy’s mom will think of her new employee if she has another full-blown episode and can’t get out of bed for a week.

June’s Café is not far from my house—just a walk down the broken sidewalk in my neighborhood and a right turn. The ground beneath my feet is slick with rain, and a light mist coats everything in a haze. Several cars are parked at an angle before old, brick shop fronts. Despite the weather, clusters of people stand outside, including Thane, who leans against the building, one foot drawn up to steady himself. His phone is in one hand, and he is distracted by it; a cigarette is in the other. He hasn’t noticed me yet, and I watch as he brings the cancer stick to his mouth.

“That’s going to kill you.”

Thane looks up at me and flashes a smile. It’s probably the sincerest one he’s ever given me, and it makes his face look warm and friendly, until he blasts smoke out of his nose and mouth.

“I have other vices that’ll kill me first.” He leans away from the wall, putting his phone in his pocket. Taking one last drag from the cigarette, he puts it out against the bricks and flicks it away into the street. Then he opens the door. “After you.”

Given the conversation we had earlier and the reason I’m here, I don’t take his chivalry too seriously. I enter ahead of him and find several teenagers in the shop. Some are doing homework; others attempt to flirt and show off. None of them look familiar.

“Kids from Rayon High School,” Thane explains. “Most of them hate us, think we’re snotty rich kids.”

“Aren’t you?”

He raises a brow. “Are you?”

Fair point.

Thane directs me to the counter. “Order.”

I ask for tea, hoping it will calm my roiling stomach. Thane orders coffee after me and pays. When our drinks are ready, he grabs a handful of sugar packets and cream and carries the cups to a booth near the window. A table of kids from Rayon High stop talking as we pass, and I’m well-enough acquainted with that behavior to guess they’re talking about us.

As Thane sits, he pushes the cup of hot tea toward me. He’s like a viper rising to strike, and his eyes flicker like smothered flames in the night. I don’t reach for the drink; instead, I bring my knees up, hiding my hands in the hollow between my chest and legs.

“For each of my questions you answer, I’ll answer one of yours,” he says, tearing open the first packet of sugar and emptying it into his drink.

“What if I don’t want to answer?”

“You fucked up.” He takes a sip of his coffee, testing, then adds more sugar. “You don’t have a choice.”

“I always have a choice.”

“Right. Except you’re clearly involved in something you don’t understand.”

“How can you be sure I don’t understand?”

He sits forward, stirring his coffee, but at my question, he pauses and looks at me, brows raised. “So you’re saying what happened to Lily was intentional on your part?”

I set my teeth.

Thane sips his coffee, testing, then continues to pour packet after packet of sugar in.

“Didn’t think so.”

I have to remember this can be just as beneficial to me as it is to Thane. Whether or not he has an agenda of his own, at least he’s not lying about why he’s giving me the time of day.

“Fine. What do you want to know?”

His smile curls, triumphant. He sits back in his seat, as if preparing to watch a movie unfold on screen. I’m just glad he’s stopped emptying sugar into his coffee.

“Why did you leave Chicago?”

Easy.“You can only be different for so long before someone notices.”

His eyes darken. He doesn’t like my answer.

“How did you know about the coin?” I ask, and he smirks, shrugging a shoulder.

“It’s not the first time it’s happened.”

“You said that earlier.”

“What’s the matter? You don’t like vague answers?”

“If that’s your next question, then no, I don’t. If this has happened before, then explain.”

He leans forward, elbows on the table. “In the twenties, people started turning up dead unexpectedly, like Lily. Anyone who knew Lily knows she wouldn’t have killed herself. Back then, there were eight cases in total, mostly undetermined deaths, but there were suicides too. The police started to enforce curfew. Turns out a few resurrection coins made it into the wrong hands.”

Who else can make coins? Does this mean I’m not the only one?

He sits back. “Where did you get a resurrection coin?”

“I don’t even know what that is,” I say, though clearly he means the coins I make with my thread.

Thane studies me for a moment. He doesn’t blink. I wonder if he knows how uncomfortable his eyes make me, if he knows the paleness of his skin makes his lips look freshly bitten.

“Resurrection coins give a person the ability to resurrect or exchange a person’s soul. Souls trapped inside can be brought back or swapped out for another soul. The coins are distinct, having an image of a raven on one side and nothing on the back. Symbolism, I think—but the idea is that it’s also a one-way ticket into Spirit. You know, the afterlife? It’s illegal to be in possession of one unless you’re the Eurydice, but one will pop up now and again from out of nowhere and causes havoc for the Order. Case in point,” he says and indicates to me.

The Order.

So my hunters have a name.

He continues, “They’ll want to know where you got the coin too, and how Vera got inside.”

Well. I definitely can’t say I have a whole box full under my bed.

Thane leans over the table again. “You want to know what I think?” he asks.

“No.”

“I think you make them.”

I scoff. “You think I make resurrection coins?”

He nods. “And if I’m right, you had better be prepared, because the Order’s after you, Eurydice.”

I shiver involuntarily. It’s the words he uses—after you, not looking for you. It’s exactly how I’ve felt the last few months, hunted.

“That’s the second time you’ve said that. What’s the Eurydice?” I ask.

“It’s your title,” he says. “The name of the one who can turn souls into coins and offer them safe passage into Spirit.”

“It’s not my title. I’m not the Eurydice,” I counter.

He shrugs. “You say tomato, I say to-mah-to. A resurrection coin means two things: you either got it from the black market, or you created it. So far, you have demonstrated virtually no knowledge of the death-speaker world, so forgive me for coming to the alternate conclusion that you are the Eurydice.”

I uncurl myself from my position in the booth and lean forward, wiping sweaty palms on my jeans. I need to know more about the Eurydice without giving myself away. “You said the Eurydice can turn souls into coins, that she’s supposed to offer safe passage into Spirit. How?”

“She summons the Adamantine Gates and offers the coin to Charon, the gatekeeper.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait,” I say, holding up my hands. This is too much. “Charon? The ferryman from Greek myth?”

“The very one. Except he’s not a ferryman. He’s a gatekeeper. Always has been, always will be.”

A flash from my dream flickers in the back of my mind. A gate. No. It’s not possible. I stare at Thane for what seems like an eternity, waiting for him to say this is all a joke.

“I can’t really blame them for looking for you,” Thane says. “You’ve been gone so long…you’re practically responsible for creating Influence.”

Influence.That was what he called the thing that possessed Sean. Is it also what corrupted my poppa? I can’t be responsible for that.

“I can’t believe I’m the first one to discover the Eurydice,” Thane says, almost to himself.

“What?” I realize Thane’s already made his mind up that I’m the Eurydice. For now, I’m going to let it go in favor of learning more. “How am I responsible for that?”

“You didn’t incarnate for seventy years. Lost souls can’t move into Spirit, so they just stay. You know what their energy is like. It does crazy things to people, and it feeds darklings—monsters—and death-speaker magic. It also spawns new darklings, and all those darklings create Influence.”

“Why didn’t the Eurydice incarnate?”

“Remember how curfew began? With all those murders? Well, it started with the Eurydice’s murder. They say, as punishment, Charon dissolved the gates and prevented the Eurydice from incarnating.”

“But…why would he choose to let her incarnate now?”

Thane shrugs. “Things are pretty bad, Anora. Just turn on the news—plane crashes and riots and natural disasters. It’s all Influence. The more chaos, the more doubt, the stronger Influence gets.”

It feels like Thane just placed the weight of the world on my shoulders. Being responsible for Lily’s death is hard enough, but suddenly I’m also responsible for every bad thing happening in the world?

“Even if you aren’t the Eurydice, you won’t escape the Order. They keep tabs on those who can see and speak to the dead. We fall under their rule, and trust me, they think death-speakers are the scum of the earth. Though, they really only worry about the ones who practice death magic, the occult.”

“But I don’t practice death magic.”

“Soul exchanges are death magic, Anora. Vera’s soul is gone for good now.”

“I didn’t…exchange…anyone’s soul. I lost the coin.”

“So you were in possession of a resurrection coin and lost it. Still illegal. Worse, reckless!”

He’s right.

“What are you? Their bounty hunter?”

Thane laughs. “Trust me, I’m as far from the Order as you can get. I didn’t even know they existed until Lily risked getting into a whole lot of trouble by telling me.”

“Why did she tell you?”

“Because we were friends.”

He watches me for a moment. I note the way he sits, poised on the edge of his seat, hands resting by his legs, rigid. He thinks I’m going to bolt. I wonder what he would do if I went for it in front of all these people? He couldn’t exactly restrain me without drawing a crowd.

“Look, I don’t care if you’re the Eurydice, but you had something to do with Lily’s death, and I want to get to the bottom of it. I can help you,” he says, taking his rigid arms and resting them on the table. He leans so far over, he’s practically lying on the table. He explains, “I can get you an appointment with someone. She might be able to trace Lily’s soul, which means we can find your coin.”

My heart rises into my throat. All I’ve wanted is to find this coin, but I’m immediately suspicious of Thane.

“Why would you help me?”

“You want your coin, and I want to find out who did this to Lily. We need each other to do that. If we can track that coin, we both have what we want.”

“How do I know you won’t turn me over to the Order?”

I don’t know anything about Thane; he could be pulling one over on me.

“Do you want the appointment or not?”

“Who is this person you want me to meet?”

“All you need to know is that she might be able to help. It’s either this or soul exchanges keep happening and more people die, Anora—your call.”

I don’t like the way he says my name, but the mention of more people dying makes my chest hurt. If any more guilt lands on my shoulders, I’ll be crippled.

I might not trust Thane, but he is the only one who’s given me real answers, and it’s likely the more I’m around him, the more I’ll learn about myself, my powers, and Influence.

“Fine. Make the appointment.”

The corners of his mouth turn up. “I’ll be in contact.”

He stands, and I follow.

“Do you have a ride home?”

“I’ll walk.”

“In the rain?”

“Y-yes,” I say as I look toward the window and notice it’s pouring.

Keys jingle in Thane’s hand. “I’ll take you home.”

We leave the coffeehouse, and Thane holds the door open for me.

“Hold up,” he instructs once we are outside under the awning. He moves to take off his jacket for me. “Use it as an umbrella.”

The drive to my house is short, especially since I tell Thane not to drop me off directly in front.

“But it’s still pouring,” he says.

“That’s okay. I like the rain.” He doesn’t look convinced but doesn’t argue. I add, “Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime, especially if it’s raining.”

I start to get out and leave his jacket behind.

“Take it.” He holds it to me. “You can give it to me at school on Friday.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Just do it. I’m already wet. It won’t help me.”

I take the jacket and put it over my head as I get out of the car. “See you Friday.”

I close the door and walk the rest of the way to my house in the pouring rain with Thane’s jacket covering my head, smelling of cigarettes.