Radiance Read online

Refusing to divulge anything more than he already had.

  And when I gave up on the questions and decided to offer my assistance instead (anything to make it to London by daybreak I figured), he just shook his head and said, “This one’s all mine. It’s absolutely imperative I do it on my own.”

  Great.My face dropped into a frown as I snuck a quick peek at the grandfather clock in the hall, knowing that if this task, whatever it may be, took anywhere near as long as mine did, I wouldn’t get to London ’til nightfall, if then.

  “Listen.” I smiled, knowing my motivations weren’t exactly pure, were far too self-serving to ever be mistaken for altruistic, but still continuing on when I said, “I’m a trainee,right? And it’s your job to — well — train me,correct?”

  He nodded in his usual, noncommittal way, head bobbing forward ever so slightly but just enough for me to translate it as a yes, if only to make things easier and get it moving along.

  Slinking around to his side and watching as he continued to chew on that same dented-up straw when I said, “So, with that in mind, what better way to train me, than to allow me to watch the master — meaning you — at work? What better way for me to learn something new than to watch, firsthand, how it’s done?

  And maybe — just maybe — get a little hands-on experience as well? But only if permission to do so is granted by you, of course,” I added quickly, seeing the way his mouth sort of slammed down at the sides when I got to that last part. “So? Tell me, what do you say? Surely your guide can’t fault you for that — for letting me watch you do your thing and complete your task?”

  Bodhi looked at me, clearly weighing the pros and cons in his mind. Then, squinting down the long hall, he sighed and said, “Fine. But just remember, you asked for it.”

  18

  He led us down the hall, far away from the blue room where I’d completed my task, and down the stairs, across a large foyer, and up another set of stairs, which led to yet another long hall, a smaller set of stairs, and a very narrow corridor with a tiny door at the very end that would require most people to stoop down low to get through, but not us, and onto still more stairs, until, at last, we were entering one of those turrets. One of those pointy tower-like things known to all the best castles that I’d always wanted to see the inside of.

  But just as I started to rush the door, eager to manifest some seriously long, blond hair so I could have my long-awaited, much anticipated,Rapunzelesque moment, Bodhi stretched his arm across, barring me from going any farther when he said, “You sure about this?”

  Please.It was all I could do not to roll my eyes in his face. Here I’d just faced down three glowing radiant brothers with red orbs for eyes and deep, dark, cavernous mouths, and he wanted to know if I could handle it? I mean, seriously, it was almost insulting. Just how bad could this possibly be?

  “Because there’s no shame in being scared,” he said, studying me carefully, still chewing on that dumb straw, really working it into submission. “No shame at all. It’s perfectly natural and I won’t judge you if you decide to turn back while you still can. You’ve already proven yourself. You went in and succeeded where many before you have failed. You know, you’re pretty amazing, Riley Bloom. You’re the best Soul Catcher I’ve ever seen and it’s only your first day out! But this is my task, not yours. And trust me, there’s a reason for that.”

  I couldn’t help it. For someone with a tendency to seek out all the compliments I could ever possibly get, the truth was, I wasn’t always so great at receiving them. And just after he said all of that my eyes started to burn as a lump took over my throat, and it was all I could do to nod and look away. I was so humbled and embarrassed by his praise.

  “Okay,” I said, my voice hoarse, nearly a whisper. “But at least let me try,please. I’m eager to learn as much as I can.”

  He looked at me, his eyes searching my face before he nodded in consent. And the second he opened the door I heard it.

  In fact, all of us heard it.

  Including Buttercup.

  This low, awful, moaning/wailing type sound.

  The sound of despair.

  The sound of someone so lost in their grieving, they could no longer function, no longer do anything but emit a noise that rang of nothing but death.

  It was continuous. Unceasing. Going on and on and on in a way that felt like forever.

  In a way that definitely gave me the creeps.

  Bodhi looked at me and I at him, our gaze holding for a moment before he slipped right in front of me and climbed the set of steep narrow steps, as Buttercup and I trudged up behind him.

  And when we got to the top, I saw her. Though I have to admit it actually took me a moment to really focus and zoom in to just exactly where the noise was coming from. Because even though it probably sounds weird, it was like she was so old, so gray, so faded, and so washed out, she practically blended right into those old, gray, faded, and washed-out walls.

  Like she’d been in that room for so long, she’d started to resemble it.

  To become a part of it.

  Like a solid piece of heavy old furniture that’s never been moved from its place.

  I slunk back, clinging to the farthest wall as Bodhi approached her. Knowing that if I’d still been alive I’d be holding my breath in absolute horror, terrified to think of what might come next.

  But, as it was, I was frozen in place. The bundle of energy that normally comprised the new, dead, ghostly version of me had come to a screeching halt as I hovered in place, with Buttercup crouched down beside me.

  But no matter how close Bodhi crept, the woman remained totally and completely oblivious of his presence, unaware that we’d even entered the room.

  She stood there, pressed up against the wall in a way so close, so seamless, it was like she was part of it. Appearing small and trim, her back curved as her narrow shoulders hunched forward, rising occasionally when a spasm of fresh tears overtook her, then dropping back again, falling well below the usual place. Her long cotton dress clinging to her in a series of unflattering, soaking wet clumps, everything about her so bland, so lackluster, so nondescript, the only thing that stood out, the only thing of any color was her hair. It was long, wavy, and dark, swept up into a careless bun that was barely held together by two pearl-tipped pins.

  The three of us watched as she continued to stand there, peering out of a small, square window, grieving over something none of us could fathom, much less see.

  Listening as the wailing continued, refusing to let up for even a second. It just went on and on and on, the sound of it so heartbreaking, so disconcerting, so disturbing, so discombobulating, even Buttercup sank all the way down to his belly, rested his chin flat against the old stone floor, and placed a paw over each ear in a desperate attempt to avoid it.

  And honestly, the second I saw that, I came this close to doing the same. Stopped only by Bodhi glancing over his shoulder, checking to see how we were doing, and not wanting him to know how completely freaked out and disturbed I was, I just waved my hand in the air, fluttering my fingers in a way that meant for him to not mind us, to just continue his business. Knowing that the sooner he got down to it, the sooner we could clear out of this small, stone, practically airless prison of sorts.

  Only a handful of seconds in her presence and my Rapunzel fantasy was over, not to mention my previous fascination with castles and turrets and anything else of the sort. It was awful, small, dark, dingy, and damp and completely claustrophobic even for those of us that no longer breathed, and I couldn’t even begin to see why anyone would choose to spend even a portion of their afterlife in such a horrible place, much less camp out here for hundreds of years.

  The reasoning of some ghosts was beyond me.

  Some of them just didn’t make the slightest bit of sense.

  Bodhi spoke to her, calling to her softly, quietly, and though I couldn’t exactly make out the words, it was clear he was trying to steal her attention, gain her trust, and convince he
r to turn around and face him. He even went so far as to remove those ridiculous glasses he wears, and place them in his inside pocket. Though I wasn’t sure if it was so he could better see her, or so she could better see him — if she ever decided to turn around, that is.

  Still, even though he looked a gazillion times better without them, the act alone pretty much amounting to one giant step away from total geekdom and one baby step toward, well, the opposite of geekdom — in the end, it’s not like it made the slightest bit of difference, or at least not to her anyway.

  She remained right there in place, rooted to her post. Still crying, still staring out the small, square window.

  Oblivious.

  Uninterested.

  So lost in her grief, she had no idea she had company.

  And watching her carrying on like that, well, I couldn’t help but wonder if she ever got tired of it.

  If she ever just stopped for a few minutes, and took a little break to at least wipe her eyes or blow her nose before she started up again.

  Only to find out that she did.

  And that the wailing would soon be replaced with something much worse.

  19

  She turned.

  Turned and looked straight at us.

  Or at least it seemed that way at first.

  But right before I started to turn away, right before I shrank back in horror, tempted to grab hold of Buttercup and vamanos ourselves right out of there, never to return, I noticed that she wasn’t really seeing us.

  It was more like she was facing in our general direction, but her focus was inward, unable to see anything around her but the images she played over and over again in her head.

  And when my gaze unwittingly, accidentally met hers — that was all I could see too.

  I slumped down to the ground, whimpering, sniveling, feeling as though my plug had been pulled, as though my wick had been snuffed, and my bulb just burnt out. Sapped of all my energy as my arms instinctively circled around me, trying to protect myself against her pain, her fear, her loss, her complete and total agony — but it was no use. All I wanted to do was scream out, to join her in her chorus of grief, to wail, and moan, and pine, and cry in my own horrible, endless, unceasing way. But my throat was too lumpy, too hot, and it wouldn’t allow anything to work its way in, much less find its way out.

  And even though Bodhi was trying to shield me, raising his arms to block her from sight — it was too late.

  Too late to look away.

  Too late to do anything but continue to stare until I was completely immersed in her world.

  Only Buttercup was smart enough to place his paws over his eyes and block her from view.

  My gaze moved over her, noticing how even for a ghost, she was so unbelievably pale that the dark wisps of hair that’d broken free of her bun sprang against her face like a silhouette of tree branches caught in an unexpected blizzard of blinding white snow. While her dress, plain and high-necked, was made from a fabric that had clearly started out as black, but after centuries of being washed in an endless deluge of large, salty tears had weakened and faded until it was bleached the same color as the room.

  Though the constant flow of grief had wreaked far more havoc on her face than the fabric — corroding it into a series of deep, craggy crevices where her cheekbones once rose, while forging bottomless valleys and gorges where her nose, lips, and chin should’ve been. Reminding me in a strange, sick way of a trip my family once took to the Grand Canyon, where my father explained to Ever and me how the rise and fall of the water, its incessant sway and lull, had the power to hone and carve and completely obliterate parts of the rock like a finely honed chisel.

  The only part of her face that was even remotely recognizable was the space where her eyes should’ve been.

  Years of unceasing tears had washed them away until there was nothing left but two matching, deep, dark, and bottomless pools filled with murky black waters that sucked me right in, until I was swirling and spinning, pulled deeper and deeper — like water rushing down a drain, rainfall spilling into a gutter, I was falling, flailing, and there was no way to stop it.

  No way to claw my way back.

  No way to spare myself from her limitless grief.

  I was drowning.

  Fighting to keep my head above the dark, murky pool of tumultuous, oily, swirling black waters that violently churned all around me. Coughing and blinking and trying my best to tilt my head back and just float, reminding myself to relax, to stay calm, that panicking would just make it worse. Calling upon everything I’d ever learned in every swimming lesson and junior lifeguard class I’d ever taken. Desperate to keep the water from flooding my lungs, even though deep down inside, I knew they didn’t exactly exist anymore.

  But it was too late.

  Despite my attempts, despite my legs continuing to kick, despite my hands grasping and clawing, I couldn’t overcome her. I was being pulled under. And for someone who just a few moments earlier didn’t even breathe, I somehow knew that my very existence, not to mention my sanity, required me to hold on, to hang in there, to embrace the breath that now bubbled my cheeks, and to not let it go, no matter what became of me.

  And just when I was sure I couldn’t hold on any longer, a hand came out of nowhere, plunging straight toward me from somewhere above, as a voice called out to me.

  A voice I immediately recognized as Bodhi’s.

  My fingers stretched toward his, as my legs furiously kicked, desperate to propel myself upward, vaguely aware of his fingers circling my wrist, and giving it a nice, firm tug that yanked me above the water, up to where there was oxygen, and air, and room still to breathe.

  I gasped and sputtered, blinking that thick, oily water from my eyes, only to see Bodhi floating before me, his lips moving frantically as he said, “You have to stop looking.Now! Turn toward the wall and she’ll have no choice but to release you — it’s the only way! Do it, Riley, do it now!Please. ”

  But I didn’t.

  I didn’t turn toward the wall.

  And if you asked me why, well, at the time, I wouldn’t have had an answer.

  I guess some things are just automatic.

  Instinctive.

  Some things you just do, despite the fact that your entire being is shouting against it.

  Some things just don’t make any sense, until later.

  Much later.

  And this, as I would soon learn, was one of those things.

  20

  Bodhi was furious. Truly furious. Eyes narrowed and glaring at me as he shouted: “Dang it, Riley, I’m your guide, which means you have to do what I say!”

  Which was soon followed by: “This is exactly why I didn’t want to bring you here. This is my task, not yours. I’m the only one who can take care of this. So, for the last time,please, I’m begging you,turn away!”

  But even after all that, I still didn’t stop looking. I just stayed right there in place, floating, struggling to keep my head above water as the seas finally calmed down all around me, glad my dog had the good sense to sit this one out too.

  “What’s this about?” I asked, my voice sounding small, scared, and needy in a way that embarrassed me and aggravated him. “And where exactly are we right now? I don’t get it.”

  Bodhi looked at me, his hair damp and clinging to his cheeks, having lost his jacket in the current, and I couldn’t help but hope that the nerd glasses had gone along with it.

  “We’re in her world now,” he said, voice resigned like a sigh, clearly sick of arguing with me. “And it happens to be a dangerous one. One that is no place for children, and certainly no place for the faint of heart. So please, if you refuse to do what I ask, if you refuse to turn away and save yourself, then at the very least stay quiet. The water should stay calm now. Calm enough for me to leave you here on your own. But I’m warning you, Riley, no matter what happens next, no matter what you see or hear,do not head toward the rock. No matter how dire it may seem, you are much
safer here. So please, just do what I say and stay put. Do not get involved no matter how bad things get. Okay? Can you do that for me?”

  I nodded. Unsure if I could really follow through and keep a promise like that, especially if things really did get as bad as he seemed to think they would. Not to mention if the waters went all crazy and churning and scary again, then the rock would be the first place I’d head. But knowing he needed me to agree in order to get on with his task, I nodded my assurance, even though I wasn’t sure if I could actually live up to my promise.

  I watched as he floated away, cutting through the current as easily as a fish, before climbing onto what appeared to be a small, lonely island somewhere out in the distance, and what further squinting revealed to be a large, jagged rock jutting out from the sea.

  And that’s when I saw it.

  And I’m pretty sure that’s the same moment he saw it too.

  The second he climbed up and secured himself there, we both watched, from our own separate vantage points, the exact cause of the ghost lady’s anguish for the last several hundred years.

  She was a murderer.

  A child killer.

  Or at least that’s what everyone said.

  Falsely accused of what was pretty much the worst crime a person could ever commit — that of killing her very own children.

  Her three beloved sons, whom I immediately recognized as the golden-haired Radiant Boys I’d just crossed over a few moments earlier.

  Only thing was — she was innocent. She’d done nothing of the sort.

  She was merely a poor widowed mother left to take care of her sons on her own, forced to find work right here at the castle, and just naive and innocent enough to trust the wrong person to look after her boys while she was gone.

  A stable hand who promised to take them on a so-called fishing trip where instead of baiting a line, he drowned all three of them. Cleaning up nicely and planting just enough evidence to make it appear as though she’d done it — only to vanish nearly as soon as he’d come, never to be seen or heard from again.