CHAPTER 1
LYRA
The dead only whispered.
But sometimes, even the whispers became too much.
The spirits and I were officially in a toxic relationship. All they did was take, calling out when they needed my help and then ghosting me right after. Somehow, they’d even perfected the art of gaslighting me, by making me question my damn sanity. Their relentless pleas pressed against the front of my skull, a sharp pressure that drowned out everything but the incessant pounding in my head.
Mist crept through the forest, blanketing the ground and gradually ascending into the tree line. Densely packed trees gave way to a clearing, and the familiar towering steeple came into view. The flashlight trembled in my hand as I cautiously made my way through the darkness.
The church looked different at night. Eerie. Sinister. The hairs on my arm rose. Every instinct told me to run, but I ignored it. I came here hoping to help the restless souls find peace and maybe find a little of my own.
Rusted hinges screeched as I pushed my way inside. White paint flaked to the ground from the decaying wooden door. I bitdown hard on my bottom lip to keep from screaming as beady eyes scampered away at the unwanted intrusion.
My thoughts spiraled as I imagined every horror movie I’d ever seen. Coming out here alone had been a last-minute decision. Granted, it had been a stupid one, but those goddamn whispers.
“Sorry,” I muttered to anyone with the power to smite me for uttering such a blasphemous word in this sacred place.
I stepped farther into the desecrated hall, holding my breath, scared to make a sound. It felt wrong to disrupt the silence. A shiver slithered down my spine, crawling from the nape of my neck to the small of my back from the bite of the Virginia fall night or the constant state of fear I found myself in. Honestly, it could go either way.
I grimaced as the floorboards whined under the weight of my steps. Each was a distinct note in a frightening ballad. I paused, reluctant to stray too far from the safety of the doorway, and settled into one of the rear pews, and waited.
The yellow hue from the flashlight refracted off the stained-glass window above the pulpit at the front of the church—one of the few things still intact. The light trailed downward to illuminate the ornate stone altar. I clicked off the flashlight as moonlight broke through the clouds and spilled through the windows, pushing the darkness back.
I hunched over, hugging my backpack tight against my chest as I kept watch for any kind of movement.
An earsplitting ding echoed through the church. My heart lurched against my rib cage, threatening to beat right out of my chest. I frantically dug in the pocket of my leggings. My phone shook in my hand as I tapped the new notification scrawled across the screen and read the incoming text message.
Dylan: You up?
Leave it up to the fuck boy of the century to send me into cardiac arrest over a hookup text. I rolled my eyes, shoving the phone into the front of my backpack—but not before silencing it.
If I wasn’t careful, all this nervous energy would deter the spirits and make tonight a complete waste of time. My shoulders sagged as the reality of my situation sunk in. I should be studying or at a party like a normal college student.
Instead, I found myself waiting on the dead.
“Sweetie, the spirits need our help.”My mom’s words crept into the back of my mind, easing the tightness in my chest.
Some people inherited their mother’s smile or temperament. I got my mom’s affinity for the dead. And after her death, nine years ago, the burden of helping the spirits fell to me.
I shot to my feet as something shifted in the corner. My breath danced to life as a beautiful young woman approached the pew. I clasped my hands tightly, willing them to stop trembling. I swayed from foot to foot as the young woman stepped forward. She tucked a loose, dark strand of hair behind her ear, tilted her head to the side, and examined me.
“Wh-who are you?” Her voice came out hoarse.
“My name is Lyra, and I’m here to help,” I spoke in a soft, reassuring tone to keep from spooking her.
“Help me with what?” She moved back a few steps as she spoke.
“To pass beyond the veil.” Her perfectly groomed eyebrows shot up behind wispy bangs as she processed my words.
“Because…” A long moment of silence passed before she continued. “I’m dead?”
I nodded, trying to hide my grimace. “But if you’re here, some part of you must be ready to move on and find peace.” I reached out my hand in offering.
One second, she stood in front of me, and the next, she was gone. Some spirits weren’t ready to accept their situation, and I’d give her the time she needed.
I turned to take a seat but instead came face-to-face with a man. Deep wrinkles lined his forehead, but it was the red, blistering skin on his cheek that drew my attention. The marred skin looked like it had been held across hot coals. He didn’t speak before reaching out for my hand, but instead of peacefully passing through the veil that separated this world from the spirit realm, his grip tightened around my wrist.
