Page 81 of Ghosts of the Dead

Mars steps back, giving me the space I asked for. I almost wish he wouldn’t. Almost wish he’d stay so I could scream at someone besides myself.

Instead of retreating further, I walk toward him. His eyebrows lift when I step close and wind my arm around him to reach into his back pocket. A smirk forms on his lips and his eyes darken with interest.

“Not the time,” I snap, though his reaction almost pulls a smile out of me anyway.

Dammit. Not helping, Mars.

The smirk vanishes when I pull the scrap of fabric with the mysterious symbol and strange stitching from his pocket instead of grabbing his ass. Which is a shame, because it’s a plump ass. Very grabbable.

I sink to my knees right there, and smooth out the fabric on the ground to stare at it until my eyes burn.

“Autumn,” he starts.

“I need to figure this out,” I say, not looking up. I hear him sigh, then walk away to murmur something to someone, but I don’t pay attention.

There has to be something I’m missing. Some clue. Some way forward that doesn’t involve sitting on my hands waiting for Lucy to appear.

I take a deep breath and force myself to calm down. Getting angry won’t help Summer. I look down at the nameI’ve etched into the dirt. Names from the board in the bunker. At least, the ones I remembered reading, and now some have been brushed away when I stomped around in frustration. I don’t know any of those names except for one. Still, someone needs to remember them, even if the world forgets.

The soft crunch of boots pulls me back. Caspian appears from the shadows with his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. His gray t-shirt is wrinkled from sleep, the fabric still bearing tiny holes from the rocks that punctured it during the tunnel collapse.

His platinum blond hair is still a mess from the night before, but it’s the softness in his eyes that catches my attention.

Caspian crouches down beside me without a word and lays a small wooden board between us. I blink at the familiar piece in surprise. “You kept it?”

He nods once, looking down at the names. “I shoved it into my pocket before following you to the tunnel. Figured maybe you’d want it again.” He smiles at me. “I wanted to have it, in case you were ready to see it again. Seems like you are.”

My throat tightens. It’s the board from the bunker. The one with all the names carved into it, including the message about my sister.

I want to thank him, to tell him how much this means, but the words get stuck, so instead, I brush my fingers over the rough wood, tracing the edges of each letter.

“G.L.” The sound of speaking those two letters out loud scrapes across my mind like nails on stone. Unlike every other name, this one is only initials. As though the identity is meant to remain hidden from those not meant to know about it. “It might not be a person.”

Caspian tilts his head and watches me.

“What if it’s a place? A location, company, something.”Hope claws at my ribs, a fierce, painful thing. I hate how quickly it rises, how easily it replaces the despair, because when it inevitably crashes, the fall will only be that much harder.

“You might be on to something,” Caspian says. He reaches out and his fingers brush against mine where they rest on the board. The touch is gentle.

“I need to be doing something. I can’t sit here waiting for someone who might never show up. To sit here doing nothing other than waiting for someone else to decide my fate. I need to keep moving forward, keep searching, even if it feels like chasing ghosts.”

Caspian nods with understanding in his pale blue eyes. “Then let’s figure it out.”

He settles beside me and grabs two sticks before handing me one, and together we cut into the dirt with all the acronym possibilities we can come up with. Nothing fits. None of them feel right. But at least my hands are moving, and for now, that’s enough.

A soft gruntpulls my attention back to the clearing where Mars and Jace are sparring. We’re all outside of the old laundromat I was supposed to meet Lucy in, but now it’s become our newest temporary shelter.

Mars’s unbuttoned flannel shirt flaps open with each movement, revealing the bruises from his fight with Jace still fading on his chest while trying to gain new ones.

Jace’s black long-sleeved shirt clings to his muscular frame with sweat, the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. They’re both barefoot, kicking up dust around them while they circle each other. It’s not a serious fight this time. It’s only meant to be enough to bleed off the tension. A way to keep their bodies moving and their skills sharp ratherthan disappearing into the depths of their minds like I have many times.

Luna darts between them with her tail wagging furiously as she barks and spins around. She seems to think this is some elaborate game designed for her entertainment. When Mars dodges a swing from Jace, Luna jumps and nips playfully at his ankle, making him stumble sideways with a curse that turns into reluctant laughter.

“Call off your dog, purple,” Mars shouts at me, but there’s no real heat to it.

“She’s not my dog,” I call back, though we all know that’s a lie by now.

Jace tries to maintain his serious demeanor, but I catch the brief smile that crosses his face when Luna abandons Mars to circle him instead. Her eyes are bright with canine joy. Mars extends a hand to keep her at bay, but she ducks under it and weaves between his legs, nearly toppling him.

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