Page 69 of Until the Stars Fall

“Spirit of the ship,” Zola began, “present and explain yourself. Why are you throwing things, sabotaging our ship, and generally being a pest?”

Nothing happened. Was Zola too rude to it?

The temperature dropped even farther than the endemic interstellar chill, and the hair on my arms stood up as. My exhale fogged in the candlelight.

Mist gathered over the flickering flames, growing thicker and thicker until a man’s silhouette shimmered inside. All the hairs on my body stood at full attention, but I leaned toward it on instinct.

“What is your name?” Zola asked imperiously.

A voice bubbled out of the air as if emanating from deep within the ocean and breaking the surface to escape.

Help. The spirit’s pained voice cut to my soul and slipped down my spine like ice.

But Zola continued, her face placid. “Why do you disturb the peace of this place?”

I don’t want to go. I need...help.

“What help can we give you?” Zola asked, her brows furrowing.

A frigid wind came out of nowhere, pouring from another plane onto this one like a door cracked open in a blizzard. The very air above the table trembled and writhed, and the voice continued.

Gemma...my journal.

“Beck?” I shouted.

An icy wind tore through the room, guttering the candles and overturning an empty stool. All the noise and candles went out.

“Beck!” I called again, but there was no answer. Only silence.

A flame flickered to life, and the haunted faces of the witches around the table reappeared.

Zola relit the rest of the candles. “So. The intangible fuck is Beck. Do you know what he was talking about? Does he keep a journal?”

The engine room. “Yeah, I think he does.”

I ran down the central stairs to the bottom of the ship, pushed through the engine room door, and I didn’t stop until I was moving his cold coffee mug to pick up his journal.

Guilt twinged in my chest over invading his privacy. “Sorry,” I murmured, flipping through the pages, trying to figure out what he wanted me to see without prying into all his secrets.

The book naturally fell open to a folded-over piece of copy paper stuck between the pages, a print-out on astral projection. On the journal page it was stuck into, dates were listed in Beck’s neat, all-caps writing, with check marks and X’s beside them, and some commentary. The first date was a couple of months before liftoff. I scanned down the list until I came to the first checkmark.

10/4. I did it! I astral projected for almost a whole minute. Fucking terrifying. I saw my body, freaked out, slammed back into it. Feels like a hurricane hit me.

Then several more X’s but more and more checkmarks.

11/16. I’m getting bolder. Went to City Park. This one nasty demon thing cursed me out, but the other entities I passed either can’t see me, or I don’t merit their attention. Fine by me—they’re scary AF. I don’t love being in the spirit world so much, but I come back to my body refreshed and calmer than I left it. But idk why I was worried about getting stuck. Going back is a breeze.

The last several entries were since we’d been in space.

12/11. I met HER. I knew she was coming, and I still almost lit the ship on fire when I saw her. She’s amazing. So fucking perfect. So much MORE than I ever dreamed. Note to self: do not fuck this up.

My hand over my mouth, tears streaming, I read on.

12/13. Too terrified to AP in space, but damn I’d love to not be freaked out for a while. But what if I get out of the ship on accident and get lost in space?

12/15. I did it and took a quick trip around B2. I think I scared Eyre in the hallway. My bad.

12/16. Can’t sleep. Space travel sucks. But at least I get to spend all day with Gemma tomorrow. That beautiful woman is keeping me sane. She’s my future. No doubt. She’s my everything. Wish I could tell her.

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