Homecoming by Amber Benson Page B

outta me,” Lyse groaned as she rested an arm around Eleanora’s frail shoulder, hiccupping back tears. “I looked all around the house, but you weren’t answering me, and then I opened the door, and I thought—”
    â€œYou thought I was dead,” Eleanora finished, with a snort.
    â€œNo, that’s not true,” Lyse said, lying through her teeth.
    â€œI don’t know why everyone wants to put me in my grave before my time,” Eleanora said, sighing. “I’m not dead yet, thank God.”
    Lyse hiccupped up another sob, then sighed.
    â€œI don’t want you to die.”
    She spat the words out, as if saying them fast enough would magically keep Eleanora alive forever.
    â€œBut everybody dies, Bear,” Eleanora said, removing Lyse’s arm from her shoulder. “That’s the price of being alive.”
    â€œWell, I don’t want you to have to pay it.”
    Eleanora laughed.
    â€œI don’t mind, actually,” she said after a few moments of silence. “Death isn’t the end, Bear. I know it for a fact.”
    Lyse stared back at her. They’d never discussed Eleanora’s religious views before, and she was surprised to discover that she’d expected her great-aunt to be an atheist, or at the very least agnostic. Eleanora’s avowal that life went on after death was an odd pill to swallow.
    â€œThere is more in this world than what we can touch, see, hear, taste, and smell, Lyse,” Eleanora continued. “Which is a lovely way of segueing into another topic, one I’ve wanted to discuss with you before but was too cowardly to do so.”
    Lyse’s mouth went dry as a desert, the lack of saliva forcing the smooth muscles in her throat to contract painfully against one another as she tried to swallow. She didn’t know what her great-aunt was going to say to her, but it couldn’t be good.
    â€œDon’t look so scared,” Eleanora said gently. “I promised you earlier that there were things to talk about, and they weren’t bad.”
    Lyse nodded but didn’t trust herself to speak.
    â€œI guess the way to do this is to just rip the Band-Aid off,” Eleanora murmured, looking up at Lyse. She smiled, and Lyse was sure the gesture was meant to convey calm, but it did the opposite. Now Lyse was
sure
something terrible was in the offing.
    â€œDon’t give me those sad eyes,” Eleanora said, looking put upon for the first time since Lyse had gotten home. “You had that same look on your face the first time you asked me to take you to the store to buy maxipads. It’s really not that bad.”
    Lyse didn’t think she’d ever felt terrified
and
mortified at the same time. It was a brand-new experience.
    â€œJust tell me,” Lyse said finally, the words sticking in her dry throat.
    â€œOkay, I’ll just tell you,” Eleanora agreed. “Oh lord, this is gonna sound nuts, but here goes.” She took Lyse’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Lyse, I’m a witch.”
    â€œAre you high?” It was out of her mouth before Lyse could stop herself.
    Eleanora raised one pale silver eyebrow.
    â€œAs a matter of fact, I am.”
    Lyse pushed off the bed, stumbling to her feet, and then she began to pace. Whatever she’d been expecting, it was certainly not this.
    â€œWhat does this mean?” Lyse said, trying to wrap her mind around what Eleanora had just told her. “Are you, like, a Wiccan or something? Do you like to go burn effigies out in the woods, or dance naked under the stars, or do sexual-healing spells, or whatever?”
    Eleanora let out a loud guffaw.
    â€œMy goodness, do you have an imagination—”
    â€œ
I’m
the one with an imagination?” Lyse said, incredulously. “You’re the one who just called herself a witch.”
    Eleanora shrugged and leaned back against the tangle of bedsheets Lyse had