“Would a distraction help? We could stream a movie.”
I stand. “I want to go back to the cemetery.”
Maeve shakes her head. “I don't think that's a good idea, El. Everything is still so fresh for you. I don't think they've even cleaned up the grave yet.”
I grab my coat and stick my arms into the sleeves. “I want to go. I want to wait for the fairies.”
“The fairies?” Maeve follows me to the door, looking morose in her long black skirt and sweater. A giggle escapes me and it turns into a completely inappropriate laugh.
“Why are you laughing?”
“I just realized you wore your normal, everyday clothes today. You look totally and completely at home.” I gesture toward her outfit as I walk toward the door at the back of the house.
“El? Come on. The sun's going down. It's getting cold out there.” She holds out a hand to me.
I sigh. “Grams believed she saw fairies in thecemetery. She believed they'd come for her when she died. I want to see for myself. I need to see for myself. I need to know she's okay.”
“You don't actually believe there are fairies in your backyard, do you?”
I whirl and glare at her. “My best friend is a witch, and a shade became my greatest advocate. So, yes, I believe my grandmother was telling the truth about this.”
I turn the knob and stride toward the cemetery. Tonight is going to be frigid. Already the cold bites at the tip of my nose and blows right through my coat, seeming to sink into my bones. Maeve's moto boots thump the grass behind me, but she doesn't say a word. And when I arrive at the heap of fresh dirt that is my grandmother's grave, my friend stands in silent vigil to my left, hands folded in front of her.
The sun has set, and darkness grips us in its icy fist. I watch the woods beyond the graves, hopeful for a sign. It doesn't have to be fairies. Anything to let me know she’s okay.
“Your family raises the dead.” I don’t bother turning to face Maeve. It’s too dark to see her anyway.
“My family animates the dead. The bodies of the dead. No souls are in there when we do.”
“Right.”
“I can't contact her, El. I'm not a medium or a necromancer. I'm sorry.”
“But you know people who are?”
“Yes, but I don't recommend using them. Nothing good ever comes from disturbing a soul's rest.”
I nod. I can see the wisdom in that. “But, I mean, you know for sure that there are souls, then. If there weren't, there would be nothing for them to talk to.”
“Of course there are souls. Your grandmother has a soul,and she's in a good place, just like you said.” Maeve's voice is sure and edged in anger at my doubt.
“You're right. I know you're right.”
The wind blows, and I hear her teeth chatter. “Can we go in? Maybe we can watch from a window?”
I’m about to agree to that plan when I notice two small lights bouncing behind the trees to my right. Excitement lifts my spirits. “Look, here they come.”
35
Collision
ELOISE
The lights grow closer until they’re right in front of us, and that's when we both realize what we are actually seeing. The growl of a distant engine meets my ears, and the lights pass behind the trees bordering the graveyard, disappearing to my left.
“I think that was....” Maeve hesitates. “From the house, I bet?—”
“It was a truck driving down the access road between us and the Anderson place,” I say softly, my voice shaky with my trembling and hollow from my disappointment. “Grams wasn't seeing fairies. She saw cars. Someone must be staying in the old farmhouse again.”
