Arise. Tara Hudson

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      Is that really what I have to do? I asked myself. Leave all the reminders of my old life, like this town and my childhood home? Leave the people I love?

      Like my mother. Like Joshua.

      “No,” I moaned quietly, fighting my newest wave of nausea.

      How could I do it? How could I actually desert them?

      And how could I not, if it meant keeping them safe? My protective glow, my poltergeist powers had vanished. If I stayed, if I tried to fight the netherworld creatures again, I would surely lose. The only defense I could provide them would be to stay as far away as possible.

      But still: leaving? I couldn’t even imagine it. Not really.

      It was one thing to wonder whether I might one day have to leave Joshua. To anticipate some dark day, at some indeterminate time in the future, when I couldn’t see him anymore. It was quite another thing to think that day might come tomorrow.

      I tried to imagine it: a voluntary return to my old existence. Indistinguishable days and nights spent wandering in unfamiliar places. Never laughing with Joshua, never seeing his face. I tried to picture his midnight blue–colored eyes when I told him I had to leave and never come back. Doing so just made me nauseated all over again.

      I forced myself to straighten up and breathe slowly. After a few even, methodical breaths I could think more clearly. More rationally.

      What if I didn’t have to do it tomorrow? I could go with the Mayhew family to New Orleans, get myself and them far away from the bridge. No matter what Eli said, that would gain me at least a few days to figure out where to go next.

      And give me time to figure out what to say to Joshua. What words to craft that would break his heart, and keep him safe.

      I’d just brushed that thought aside to deal with it later when another one took its place

      My mother.

      My stomach clenched again when I thought of her, alone and unprotected, living so close to the bridge. How long after I’d gone would the dark spirits find her?

      She had to leave too, obviously. At least for a while. But I had no idea how to make that happen. I could hardly tell her myself, and I doubted she would listen to Joshua—an eighteen-year-old stranger—if I asked him to warn her.

      Near tears, I marched up the wooden steps to the Mayhews’ back porch and began to pace, stomping noiselessly across the floorboards. Around me, fat snowflakes fell, undisturbed by my movements. As I continued to pace, I batted uselessly at them. There had to be another solution for my mother; there just had to be.

      Suddenly I remembered something Eli said on the bridge: although powerful, the demons weren’t omniscient. They didn’t know everything about me. In fact, they may not know anything about me, not yet. So maybe they didn’t know my mother existed. Maybe Eli was right—by leaving this town and the people I cared about, I could keep them safe. Without my presence to give away their identities, my mother, Joshua—everyone—would stay anonymous, hidden from the dark spirits.

      And all it would take was a gigantic sacrifice on my part.

      I shook my head forcefully. I didn’t have time to feel sorry for myself; I needed to spend every second I had left either enjoying my last moments with Joshua or planning how to end them.

      Most of all, I couldn’t let Joshua know what I intended to do. He would stay away from High Bridge on his own after I’d gone, so I had no worries there. But if he knew that I planned to leave—or where I planned to go—he might try to stop me, or follow me.

      “God forbid,” I murmured, even though my brain knew this was the only way. The right way.

      “God forbid what?”

      The sound of Joshua’s voice, nervous and unsure, drifted toward me.

      I looked up and found him leaning against the frame of the back door and silhouetted by the hallway light. Through the darkness, I could only see a few of his features: a crease of worry between his eyebrows, a strained twist at the corner of his full lips. God, I loved that face. I didn’t want to think how much I’d miss it.

      He was obviously still worried about what had happened tonight between him and Kaylen. Despite everything, a tiny laugh passed my lips. In a matter of hours my problem with Kaylen had gone from mountainous to fly sized. Insignificant, compared to everything else.

      “What’s so funny?” Joshua asked quietly.

      Knowing that Joshua could see me clearly, I forced a smile.

      “Actually,” I said in an offhanded tone, “I was laughing at myself.”

      “You were?”

      I widened my smile until it ached. “Absolutely. Just laughing about how much I overreacted earlier. How was the rest of the party?”

      “Overreacted?” he said, ignoring my question. “About Kaylen? Hardly. You have every right to be mad that she kissed me. It was totally—”

      “Not your fault,” I finished, swiping my arms across each other in the “safe” signal.

      In the dark, I saw him shake his head. “But I’ve known Kaylen for years. I should have guessed what she was up to.”

      I laughed lightly. “I expect certain things from you, but the ability to read Kaylen’s twisted little mind isn’t one of them.”

      “Are you … sure, Amelia? You don’t want to scream at me for an hour or two?”

      I pushed my lips out into a fake pout. “Wow, Joshua. I may be a little jealous, but I’m not crazy.”

      I could hear the smile in his words when he replied, “Huh. Well, in my experience, jealous sometimes equals crazy.”

      “Oh, does it?” I teased. “In your vast experience?”

      “Hey,” he protested, pushing himself away from the doorway and walking toward me. He came close and hesitated, just a moment, before pulling me into his arms. When I melted against him, he gave a low laugh. “Don’t knock all seven of those dates I had last year. They taught me a lot about the female mind.”

      “More than you’ve learned in the past three months?” I said, nuzzling into his chest, wishing desperately that I could feel his warmth right now. Just a little physical sensation to help me keep up the happy charade, to prevent me from revealing to him how I really felt inside: scared, defeated, sad.

      Lucky for me, Joshua couldn’t read my thoughts. His hand moved to my back and started to trace circles there. Slowly, the places where his fingertips touched began to burn.

      “I hope you know,” he whispered, “that there’s only one girl I want to kiss. And she’s never smelled like stale beer.”

      “Not in the past decade anyway,” I whispered back, smiling weakly. When I burrowed closer to him, Joshua laid his chin on top of my head.

      “You have no idea how relieved I am. I seriously thought we were going to have a huge fight tonight.”

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