Chapter 3

"Wren," Dad called softly through the storage-room door. "I brought you a meat pie. Eat something so you won't be hungry."

I floated over and crouched in front of him. His eyes were red, the lines around them deeper than the year before. Gray had appeared at his temples. He was only forty, but he looked ten years older.

"Dad, I'm right here," I said. "I'm dead. Please open the door and look at me."

"Wren?"

He called my name again.

I reached out to touch his face, but my fingers went through him.

After waiting without an answer, he sighed in disappointment. "Still sulking."

He pushed the meat pie through the gap beneath the door. "Stay quiet in there. Stop making trouble. Once your sister gets through tonight, I promise I'll make it up to you."

He did not open the door.

I watched him walk away and whispered, "You don't have to, Dad. You'll never get the chance."

The basement hallway fell silent again.

Not long afterward, Mom stepped out of Celia's room and gently closed the door. She stood in the hall for a long time, staring toward the basement as if struggling with herself. Finally, she came downstairs and crouched where Dad had been.

"Wren," she said softly. "Please don't blame me. I know you've suffered, but your sister has only a few hours left. Let her have this one last night in peace. All right?"

I floated in front of her and saw the moisture in her eyes. She wiped it away quickly, as though unwilling to admit she might be grieving for me too.

"When this is over, I'll make your favorite honey-glazed ribs. A whole platter, all for you. I'll buy you a new dress too, not one your sister wore first. You always wanted the one with the bow, didn't you?"

Her voice grew quieter.

"When spring comes, we'll travel outside the territory. I'll take you to an amusement park. You can ride the Ferris wheel and the roller coasters. You said everyone in your class had been except you."

Her tears finally fell onto the cold tile.

"I promise you all of it. So please, just for tonight, stop making trouble."

I reached out to wipe away her tears. My fingers passed through her cheek.

Mom waited, but the room remained silent. Grief slowly hardened into irritation on her face.

"How can that child be so inconsiderate?" She stood so suddenly that she stumbled. "We've raised her all these years, and she can't even give her sister one final night."

Her voice shook with tears as she turned and walked away.

She never considered that I was not refusing to answer.

I could no longer answer at all.

Only a few hours remained before dawn. Mom began arranging decorations for Celia's First Moon Rite. Silver ribbons, moon-shaped candles, and white winter flowers soon filled the living room.

Then the doorbell rang.

Grandma Maeve stood outside with a heavy paper bag and a strained smile on her aged face.

"Mom, why are you here?" Mom stepped aside to let her in.

"I came to see Celia." Grandma set the bag on the table and took out several apples and Celia's favorite pastries. "The curse reaches its deadline tonight. I should be here with her."

"She's resting. I'll wake her."

"No. Let her sleep."

Grandma sat down and slowly surveyed the room. She saw the First Moon decorations. She also saw that only three places had been set at the table.

Her brows drew together.

"Where is Wren?"