A Vial of Life Read online

  My mind made up, I drifted apart from the vessel, and as I sped up my sprint over the waves toward the endless blue, I looked over my shoulder and watched it fade into the distance.

  I lifted myself higher up in the air. Since the sky was clear, I had a bird’s eye view of the ocean and any surrounding land formations that might crop up.

  Judging by the sun, I was racing southwest—or what I hoped was southwest—the entire afternoon before something made me slow and freeze in midair. A sound. A tune? Drifting over the waves came a faint, enchanting melody. I tried to place what instrument it was. It sounded closest to a flute, though this guess was not quite right. The melody was soft and somber, distant yet haunting… breathtakingly beautiful. It spoke of life and promise, like the singing of a nightingale in spring. Even as I listened to it, it filled my heart with unexpected hope. Hope for what exactly, I didn’t know, but the soulful tune so completely possessed my mind that I felt like I could hope for anything.

  Where is it coming from?

  I gazed around the water again, as if expecting to see a Pied Piper floating toward me on a fishing boat. From what I could see from my elevated position in the sky, there was no land for miles, nor any vessels on the waves. And yet the sweet melody continued. I wasn’t sure if I was just imagining it, but it seemed to grow louder, penetrating the atmosphere and engulfing me, as though it was reaching inside me, touching my very soul, and filling me with an unexpected warmth.

  It was coming from the direction I was headed. Southwest.

  I continued on my journey. Spurred on by the exquisite tune, my speed reached levels that I hadn’t even known that I was capable of. I wondered if anybody else could hear it, if they were present. Or was this just a product of my imagination? Was I just so desperate to reach home that I was imagining someone beckoning me back there? But, with the tune still in my ears, I wasn’t capable of thinking much. I just wanted to listen, the cheerful notes lighting my mind up like a drug.

  I couldn’t have known how much time passed, but after what felt like an hour, the melody died as suddenly as it had started. Its absence sent my mood crashing down. The euphoria drained away, and I was left feeling hollow, alone in this world of dark, foaming waters. The sun had set by now. The moonlight trickled through my hands, making them appear paler and almost luminous in its reflection.

  I felt more lonesome than I ever remembered feeling that night as I continued on my journey. But then, as dawn showed its first signs of breaking over the horizon, the melody returned. It called to me again, silently at first, then growing louder, until it grew to a pitch greater than ever before. Once again, the beautiful notes filled my mind and sent a rush of happiness flowing through me. Like an explosion of fireworks in my mind, the sound sent my mood soaring. I gazed out at the sun taking its place in the sky, and although I’d seen such a dawn arriving over the ocean many times before, I had never appreciated its beauty as much as I did that morning.

  The melody grew louder still, until it was positively ringing in my ears, as though I was closer to it somehow.

  I swept my eyes over the waves glistening in the early morning sun. And then I noticed it, far in the distance. A group of five grey ships. Large ships. Naval ships.

  Excitement welled within me. Could it be? I feared that perhaps the hunters’ ships had abandoned their watch outside our island and moved to a different location. But as I scanned the water, my gaze fell upon a familiar rock that served as one of the landmarks for The Shade’s boundary.

  I’m back. I’m back.

  I could hardly believe it. I hurtled forward, racing over the frothing waves past the hunter ships, headed directly for where I knew our boundary was. As I came within what I estimated was twenty feet of it, a chilling doubt entered my mind. What if I can’t enter it? I was able to enter and leave before, having been granted permission by the witches, but without my human body, will the spell keep me out? Or perhaps boundaries don’t work for subtle beings…

  Thankfully, my fear was unfounded. I passed through the boundary and found myself on the other side, enveloped in the darkness of The Shade. As I set my focus on the island’s shore, the melody reached a feverish pitch, so loud that it had lost its soothing quality and become almost uncomfortable to hear. I found myself wishing that I could turn down the volume, or at least cover my ears, but of course, I could do neither.

  As I arrived at the Port, the tune stopped once again. As before, it had only lasted a short while. Perhaps it would disappear for another day, or perhaps now that it had led me back, it wouldn’t play again. Again I found myself wondering whether it was the strange work of some fragment of my own subconscious before I shook the thought aside and focused on whizzing through the woods. River and my family. I needed to find them.

  I wasn’t sure where River might be staying, but I guessed she’d be with the rest of the humans in the Vale—assuming she and her family had decided to stay in The Shade. Though, as a half-blood, I couldn’t imagine River leaving anytime soon. She had to discover a cure first.

  I passed by the Residences first and approached the foot of my parents’ penthouse—my old home. Gazing upward, I almost yelled. Where the treehouse had been was the wreck of a fire. And scattered all around me in the undergrowth was scorched debris.

  What on earth happened? Where are my parents? Where is Rose?

  As I gazed around, all of the other treehouses seemed to have remained intact. Had this been an accident, my parents’ penthouse going up in smoke? But what kind of accident could have caused this? In all my life, we’d never come close to even a single accident involving fire in our treehouse. And how long ago had the fire been? From the looks of it, this destruction had been only recent.

  I set my eyes on my aunt and uncle’s penthouse, wondering if they might be staying with them. Drifting through the front door, I searched all the rooms. The apartment was empty. Fear and confusion gripping me, I headed back to the ground. I knew that my grandfather was supposed to be staying in one of the mountain cabins with his girlfriend. That was the next logical place to visit.

  But on arriving in the clearing at the foot of the Black Heights, once again, I was met with a sight of horror. Another home had been scorched, just like my parents’ had. A cabin on the mountainside. I didn’t know if this was my grandfather’s cabin, since I hadn’t had a chance to visit it during the brief period I’d returned to The Shade from The Oasis. But what was the cause of all these fires? I was about to begin moving up the mountain when voices sounded behind me.

  I whirled around to see Ibrahim standing with… my father. Relief surged through me. I hurried toward them, calling out, “Dad,” as if by my sheer willpower alone, he would somehow be able to hear me.

  He continued speaking with Ibrahim, oblivious to my presence. I set my eyes on the warlock. He was a channeler of magic. Was there any way that he might sense my presence? “Ibrahim!” I bellowed as loud as I could, even as I stood two feet away from him. I stretched out my arms and tried to grab him, but of course my fingers drifted right through his body. He, too, remained oblivious to my presence.

  I fell silent and focused on their words.

  “First thing after the funeral this morning,” my father said, his voice deep and sober, “we will begin the investigation.”

  Panic arrested me again. Funeral? What happened?

  My father’s eyes rested on the wrecked cabin, a deep scowl marring his face. “Whoever is behind this will pay.”

  “What’s going on?” I spoke aloud, even though I knew they couldn’t hear me. “Where’s Mom? Where is Rose? The rest of our family? River? Is everyone okay?”

  There was a span of silence between the two of them as they both stared at the remains of the fire before they turned on their heels and headed back toward the woods. I followed them, hoping that they would lead me toward the rest of my family, where I could verify that they were all right. But then Ibrahim touched my father’s shoulder and they both vanished, leavin
g the trail cold once again. Though not as cold as before. Perhaps Ibrahim had taken my father back to the Sanctuary? I figured that Corrine’s place—particularly the courtyard outside—was usually used as the base for funerals. It made sense to head there.

  I raced back through the woods and reached the courtyard outside Ibrahim and Corrine’s home. I stopped outside their front door and paused for a moment, attempting to steel myself for what I might find on the other side.

  I glided through the door, emerging at the beginning of a long corridor. I heard the crying of an infant, but also that of a woman. I hurried along the hallway toward the source of the noise.

  The baby’s cries were coming from the fifth room on my right. Its door was ajar. I moved inside to find my aunt lying in bed and cradling in her arms a beautiful baby. My new cousin. He or she was wrapped in a blanket, and I couldn’t make out the child’s gender. I moved to the foot of the bed. Vivienne appeared tired and drained, though her eyes were brimming with affection as she cuddled up with her newborn. I wondered how long ago she had given birth. I gazed down at the child’s face, and wished that I could have greeted my cousin.

  Although I wanted to stay in the room longer, even if I couldn’t hold the baby, the crying of the grown woman was eating at my nerves. I left my aunt and cousin alone and returned to the corridor. The sobs sounded like they were coming from Corrine’s treatment room. My anxiety intensified as I approached it, trying to figure out if I recognized the voice.

  I reached the end of the corridor and turned the corner to find myself standing in front of my grandfather, sister, and mother. The three of them sat on a narrow bench against the wall. Aiden’s head was resting in his palms, and his chest and back were shaking silently with… sobs? My sister and mother sat on either side of him, their arms wrapped around his midriff. I didn’t understand the source of my grandfather’s grief, but I felt relieved to have verified that all of my family was okay and had survived the strange fires—assuming that Xavier was somewhere around and in good health too.

  I wanted to stop and just be with my sister, mother and grandfather, even if they couldn’t see or hear me. But I had to keep moving. I had to find out what had happened here. I left them and moved into the treatment room, finally arriving at the source of the woman’s crying.

  Kira, the werewolf, was bent down over a large, teak coffin. Her cheek rested over the wood, her curly blonde hair spilling over the side of the casket. Her body shuddered with sobs. Micah knelt next to her on the floor, his arms around her, trying to offer her comfort.

  “My sister wasn’t ready to go,” she rasped. “She had too much left to live for!”

  Her sister.

  It was Kailyn who died.

  My gaze traveled to Corrine, who sat perched on the edge of the treatment bed. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, and her lips were pursed as she gazed with mournful eyes upon the grieving werewolf. I stayed for several moments longer before leaving the sorrowful scene.

  Who would have killed Kailyn? Was this really not an accident? My father certainly didn’t seem to think so.

  As I arrived back in the corridor, it was to see my father again, standing next to Aiden, my mother and sister. He leaned against the wall, looking down with a pained look on his face at my grandfather, whose face was still covered by his palms.

  We all knew how much heartbreak my grandfather had suffered in the past due to his first love, Camilla Claremont—my grandmother. After she’d died, he’d struggled for years—almost two decades—to let another woman into his life again. For him to lose Kailyn, whom he’d appeared to have truly fallen in love with, was a cruel twist.

  I gazed down at my shattered grandfather. I wasn’t sure how long it would take him to recover from this. Another two decades before he was willing to lay his heart on the line again for someone? What if he never recovered? He was a strong man, one of the strongest I knew, and he’d always been an inspiration for me, but behind his steely exterior was a broken man. When he’d met Kailyn and fallen for her, we’d all hoped that his heart was on its way to healing… but now I wondered if he would ever open up to anyone again.

  I reached out a hand and moved it over his shoulder. I wished with all that I had that he could feel my touch—even just the smallest squeeze of reassurance, of empathy. My mother, father and sister, I wanted to hug them, too. I wanted them to see that I was alive, that I was home. I found myself starving to reconnect. To feel the ground beneath my feet. To stop feeling like I was a wisp of smoke, at risk of dissolving with the slightest gust of wind.

  But hovering my hands over their arms and shoulders was the closest that I could come to contact without my translucent body sinking into theirs.

  I stayed with them in the corridor, standing and suffering my frustration, until Corrine emerged from the treatment room and said in a husky voice, “People are starting to gather outside. We should begin the formalities.”

  My father nodded grimly and exchanged glances with my mother. She stood up, leaving my grandfather sitting with Rose, and they both headed into the room where Kailyn’s coffin waited.

  Glancing again at my sister and grandfather, I hovered a hand beside my sister’s face, motioning to brush my fingers against her cheek, before stepping away and heading for the Sanctuary’s exit. As I arrived back in the courtyard, a large crowd was gathering. Witches milled, conjuring up tables and black gazebos.

  Now that I had learned the extent of the damage that had been done by those strange fires—or at least it seemed that I had, for I hadn’t heard mention of other casualties—I left the courtyard, now desperate to find River. I headed straight for the Vale and began wandering through the streets, trying to figure out which house she could possibly be staying in. I didn’t bother looking at houses that I knew were already occupied—which was most of them. I walked straight to the few houses that, at least to my knowledge, had been vacant. I arrived in the square, passed Anna and Kyle’s house, and took a turn down a narrower street. About halfway down this road, sitting on the doorstep of a three-bedroom townhouse, was River’s younger sister, Lalia.

  She had a coloring book propped up on her lap, and next to her was a lantern, shining light through the darkness. Her round face was scrunched in concentration as she shaded in pictures with fat crayons. She had a glass of what looked like orange juice sitting near her bare feet, along with a half-finished bowl of cereal.

  So they are still here. I felt relieved. Though I hadn’t thought that it was likely River would have returned to New York while still a half-blood, there had been a small doubt at the back of my mind.

  I moved past Lalia through the open doorway. The scraping of a chair came from the kitchen at the back of the house. I headed toward it and entered. Dafne and Jamil sat together at the dining table, quietly munching on breakfast.

  I passed through the rest of the rooms on the ground level before moving upstairs. It was there, on the landing, that I heard her voice. River’s voice. If I’d still had a body, goosebumps would have run along my skin. As it was, the sound of River filled me with emotion. I wanted to rush to her, pull her body flush against me, and press my lips to hers. While I couldn’t do the latter no matter how much I wished for it, I hurried into the room her voice was emanating from.

  There she was, sitting next to a bed where her mother lay wrapped in blankets. River’s graceful form was covered with a bathrobe, tied at her waist. Her dark hair streamed down her shoulders and it was wet, as though she’d just stepped out of the shower. I moved closer, my eyes falling upon her mother. She didn’t look well. Her face appeared more drained than I’d ever seen it, and her neck rested stiffly on the pillows.

  The girl I loved brushed a palm over her mother’s forehead and said, “Corrine said the pain should be gone after tomorrow. She said your spine will be healed. You need to take another dose of her potion now.”

  Her mother nodded. “Thanks, honey.”

  River stood up and moved to the bedside
cabinet. She pulled out a tall, glass bottle filled with a murky brown liquid, and a spoon. Holding out the spoon level in front of her, she filled it to the brim with the potion before guiding it into her mother’s mouth. Nadia swallowed, a grimace settling on her face as she downed it.

  “Augh. I need water.” Nadia reached for a glass half filled with water next to her bed and chugged it down in a few gulps. She took a deep breath. “I’m definitely feeling better than yesterday anyway,” she muttered. “Whatever Corrine put in this disgusting medicine, it’s certainly working.”

  There was a pause as River resumed her seat next to her mother. She drew aside her bathrobe to reveal a slip she wore underneath and began drying her hair with the robe.

  “So, Mom,” she said as she rubbed her scalp, “do you still not believe in mermaids?”

  Nadia coughed out a dry laugh.

  River bundled the robe over her head in a turban and stood up. She leaned over the bed and kissed her mother’s cheek. “I’m going to get dressed.”

  River crossed the room and left through the door. I followed after her as she headed down the corridor. She took a left and entered a room next door to her mother’s. I waited outside. It was bad enough being a ghost, I didn’t need to turn into a creepy stalker as well and watch her undress.

  I waited a few minutes, until I guessed that she would have had time to change out of her slip and put on some clothes. By the time I entered, she was wearing a light gray t-shirt that hugged her curves and a pair of sweatpants. She pulled out a hairdryer and sat in front of her dressing table. She paused and gazed at herself in the mirror. The dryer fell loose in her hands.

  I moved closer to her from behind, staring at her reflection and wishing that mirrors could reflect my form. She breathed out a heavy sigh, her beautiful turquoise eyes traced with sadness. Instead of turning on the dryer, she planted it back in the drawer. Sliding her elbows over the dressing table, she leaned her head against her palms, her fingers reaching into her hair and gripping it, her hands curling into fists. I bent down lower, trying to take in her expression. Her eyes were scrunched up tight, her lips pressed together and trembling slightly, as if she was trying to hold back a sob.