Page 95 of Ashes and Lilies
“Bianca!”Miles’s urgent tones reverberated through me as he shook my shoulders. I’d fallen to my knees, and the scratchy grass felt rough under the tops of my feet. I was still struggling to breathe as an ache faded from my chest. I didn’t fight as he pulled me against him.
Anthony was sitting on the ground. His elbow was braced over his knee as he held his head.
“I’m sorry,” the necromancer said, no longer sounding so carefree. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I didn’t expect that.”
“What did you see?” Miles asked him.
“I—” I frowned and touched the front of my neck. “Those were Rosalie’s memories?” I asked Anthony.
“Yes,” he responded.
“You were able to see memories before,” Finn cut in. He pushed his glasses up his nose as he looked past us. “When you first found the ring.”
“If a ghost’s emotions are especially strong, an empath can sometimes capture a glimpse of a memory,” Brayden said, tapping his chin.
“It could be that,” Anthony replied. “I don’t know. We saw Rosalie murdered.” He glanced at me, and the guilt was strong in his expression. “But it wasn’t only seeing; she could feeleverything too. I did my best to block it, but…”
Brayden lowered his hand, looking sharply at me. “Youfelther die?”
“It’s…” I pressed my wrist against my lips as I sought to regain my bearings. “Y-yes.” Brayden and Miles had dark expressions, and even Finn looked mildly disturbed.
My heart was thundering, and my stomach churned with nausea. Her terror had been a tangible thing that I would surelynever forget, and even though Anthony had done something to prevent me from feeling much of the pain of her death, there was no way to erase the numb pressure against my chest and throat.
However, outside of Rosalie’s terror, other emotions were present in that room—guilt, horror, and fear. I grasped at my chest as the echoing emotions radiated through me.
Helplessness and regret.
I shook my head. That wasn’t right. He’d let her die. He didn’t deserve any pity.
“Bianca?” Miles called my name, touching my shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“James…” I whispered. What was this? I shouldn’t feel sorry for him—but I did. Why? My palm was pressed against the ground, and the wind began to shriek as the stones under my fingers trembled. The salt circle began to glow a soft yellow, and, before me, the spectral form of James Cole began to materialize.
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The temperature dropped,and I instinctively reached for Miles—to protect him, of course, as he was the one frightened of spirits—as the ghost’s dark gaze landed on me.
I was supposed to be brave. So why, suddenly, did I feel so very vulnerable?
“What?” James asked.
Beside me, Anthony's expression hardened, the earlier guilt replaced by a steely determination. Brayden and Finn stepped forward.
“Prepare yourselves,” Finn stated, his voice cutting through the tension.
“Wait—” Brayden held out his arm. “We’re not here to fight,” he told the ghost, his voice calm and confident. “We want to help you.”
“Why?” James’s mouth curled back in a snarl, and even though he was dead, there was something inhuman about him. His movements were jerky, and his aura jagged. “Whatcould you possibly do now?” he asked. He looked past Brayden—past Finn—and my skin crawled as our eyes met.
“It’s your fault,” he told me, showing off his sharp teeth. “She’s gone, and it’s all because of you.”
Finn stepped between us, moving his hands in a motion I didn’t recognize, and grabbed my shoulder.
But I ignored his silent warning.
“I—” My tongue felt too large, and my mouth dry. “You—you need to move on,” I told him. “Otherwise, you’re going to get exorcized.”
James’s face twisted, and there was no indication that he understood me. “Why would you send her away?” he asked, bowing his head.
