from the living world?
“For a living person to enter the spirit world would be like falling into a deep, deep sleep,” Lady Savant went on.
Pram wondered if Clarence’s ghost would come to her. She worried he wouldn’t be able to find her, speeding down that non-road, miles from anywhere they knew.
“As a living person who can see spirits, you can develop the strength to peer into the spirit world. You enter a trance and leave your body behind.”
Pram didn’t want to listen to anything Lady Savant said; she despised this woman who had destroyed the only friends she had in the world. But she could see what was being described, as though she was being given directions down a road she’d forgotten she once traveled. She felt herself drifting away from the words, and away from the car, until she could no longer feel the weight of her bones.
She could see the souls drifting on either side of her, curled up, asleep. Each one of them was a world of its own design. In their sleep the souls twitched or smiled or cried without sound.
Pram forgot the traveling caravan. She forgot Lady Savant’s voice. She drifted into the spirit world without feet to carry her, or hands to touch, or skin to hold her together. But she could find no one she recognized. The faces were blurry, and some of the bodies were turned away from her. She saw notches in spines, and jutting shoulder blades, and she tasted smoke and water and fear.
Felix?
she called.
Lily?
Clarence?
To call his name left an aching in her bodiless soul. He did not belong here. Not for years and years.
No one heard her, and all the spirits were strangers.
Pram felt herself flying backward. She fell into her body again with a force that rattled her bones. The caravan had stopped, and through smeared vision Pram could see Lady Savant sitting over her, feeling her neck for a pulse.
“Did we kill her?” the man with the thick arms said. His voice was far away. He sounded afraid, which was odd, Pram thought. He had no trouble killing Clarence. Why should her life matter?
“Of course not,” Lady Savant said. “She’s a strong thing. I could tell the moment I saw her. She has a defiant chin.”
“She doesn’t look too good.”
“Just drive.”
Pram stared at the caravan’s ceiling. The leaves and sunlight put on a shadow show for her.
“What did you see?” Lady Savant asked.
Pram wouldn’t tell her. She would never tell her anything again.
The sky turned cloudy; fat drops of rain hit the roof of the caravan, each one like a body falling down. Pram watched lightning draw a hard line into the horizon.
For the dozenth time, Lady Savant touched Pram’s forehead and tsked. “Perhaps I’ve pushed you too far too soon.”
Pram wondered how her aunts were getting on, and if they’d phoned the police by now.
She thought of Clarence’s father, and the sadness she could feel in him when he rearranged his wife’s things that day she and Clarence hid under the daybed.
Lady Savant prattled on about what a prodigy Pram was, and how prosperous they’d be, and how strong she would be when she was older, and Pram began to realize that Lady Savant was not going to help her find her father. That had only been a lie to lure her away from home. She would kill an innocent boy just to keep a girl who could talk to ghosts, as though she were a pet.
Pram closed her eyes. She tried to return to the spirit world just to have a moment’s reprieve from this horrid caravan.
Instead, she entered a dream that was not a dream. She was skating across a frozen pond, and she brought her hands to her face to smell the cold wool of her mittens. Her hair was long and red and braided. A woman called to her from somewhere beyond the pond’s edge. She tried to hear the name, but before she could, everything turned black and dreamless.
CHAPTER
17
W hen she awoke, Pram saw ribbons of black cast iron over her head and around her like bony fingers. The ground tilted under her when
“For a living person to enter the spirit world would be like falling into a deep, deep sleep,” Lady Savant went on.
Pram wondered if Clarence’s ghost would come to her. She worried he wouldn’t be able to find her, speeding down that non-road, miles from anywhere they knew.
“As a living person who can see spirits, you can develop the strength to peer into the spirit world. You enter a trance and leave your body behind.”
Pram didn’t want to listen to anything Lady Savant said; she despised this woman who had destroyed the only friends she had in the world. But she could see what was being described, as though she was being given directions down a road she’d forgotten she once traveled. She felt herself drifting away from the words, and away from the car, until she could no longer feel the weight of her bones.
She could see the souls drifting on either side of her, curled up, asleep. Each one of them was a world of its own design. In their sleep the souls twitched or smiled or cried without sound.
Pram forgot the traveling caravan. She forgot Lady Savant’s voice. She drifted into the spirit world without feet to carry her, or hands to touch, or skin to hold her together. But she could find no one she recognized. The faces were blurry, and some of the bodies were turned away from her. She saw notches in spines, and jutting shoulder blades, and she tasted smoke and water and fear.
Felix?
she called.
Lily?
Clarence?
To call his name left an aching in her bodiless soul. He did not belong here. Not for years and years.
No one heard her, and all the spirits were strangers.
Pram felt herself flying backward. She fell into her body again with a force that rattled her bones. The caravan had stopped, and through smeared vision Pram could see Lady Savant sitting over her, feeling her neck for a pulse.
“Did we kill her?” the man with the thick arms said. His voice was far away. He sounded afraid, which was odd, Pram thought. He had no trouble killing Clarence. Why should her life matter?
“Of course not,” Lady Savant said. “She’s a strong thing. I could tell the moment I saw her. She has a defiant chin.”
“She doesn’t look too good.”
“Just drive.”
Pram stared at the caravan’s ceiling. The leaves and sunlight put on a shadow show for her.
“What did you see?” Lady Savant asked.
Pram wouldn’t tell her. She would never tell her anything again.
The sky turned cloudy; fat drops of rain hit the roof of the caravan, each one like a body falling down. Pram watched lightning draw a hard line into the horizon.
For the dozenth time, Lady Savant touched Pram’s forehead and tsked. “Perhaps I’ve pushed you too far too soon.”
Pram wondered how her aunts were getting on, and if they’d phoned the police by now.
She thought of Clarence’s father, and the sadness she could feel in him when he rearranged his wife’s things that day she and Clarence hid under the daybed.
Lady Savant prattled on about what a prodigy Pram was, and how prosperous they’d be, and how strong she would be when she was older, and Pram began to realize that Lady Savant was not going to help her find her father. That had only been a lie to lure her away from home. She would kill an innocent boy just to keep a girl who could talk to ghosts, as though she were a pet.
Pram closed her eyes. She tried to return to the spirit world just to have a moment’s reprieve from this horrid caravan.
Instead, she entered a dream that was not a dream. She was skating across a frozen pond, and she brought her hands to her face to smell the cold wool of her mittens. Her hair was long and red and braided. A woman called to her from somewhere beyond the pond’s edge. She tried to hear the name, but before she could, everything turned black and dreamless.
CHAPTER
17
W hen she awoke, Pram saw ribbons of black cast iron over her head and around her like bony fingers. The ground tilted under her when
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