They've spoken to the school on the phone and found out I wasn't there, so now they're arguing about searching for me more in the woods or trying to figure out a way back into Hell. None of them can quite agree about what's going on.
My heart hurts for them, but I can't do anything to show them that I'm here. I need to figure out my own way back to my body. Maybe the best way to do that is to get in touch with my spirit magic and figure out how to take my ghostly feet off the ground. Getting away from the black pit of darkness that is my murder scene seems like the best way to start out, so I venture further into the woods, my mind wandering.
As I leave the boundaries of the cabin I start to sense her.
Lizzy.
Like a presence in the air or a scent that teases at my nose for a moment or two. She's here, but only a little. Just the barest edge of a trail. My heart skips a beat, and I find myself wondering if the Heretic dumped her body nearby. He was bringing it downstream to do terrible things—to take her remains and perform some sort of ceremony with them—but maybe he didn't go far.
If I can find her, I can say last rites over her body. I can finally lay her spirit at rest. Maybe that will be enough to send her to the Spirit Realm, where Mom will be able to find her, and they can go to the Great Beyond together.
It won't be enough to make up for what they've suffered through. The Heretic still needs to pay. But it will set my heart at ease to know that Mom and Lizzy are together again. Maybe then I can let them go.
Closing my eyes, I orient myself towards the sense I get of her on the wind. Fresh summer apples cut beneath a hot sun, blooming peonies crushed underfoot, and sharp herbal tea all remind me of my little sister. She was a witch through and through, a stubborn and impatient one still coming into her own power, but a witch nonetheless.
If she'd gotten to grow up she would've been extraordinary.
My heart quickens at the thought of finding her finally. As heartbreaking as it'll be to see her body, to look at the truth of her death, it's something I need. I've run from what happened here for so long—literally and figuratively. The truth is, I was never going to be able to put it behind me. Not until I've put it in front of me.
I rush towards the feeling of my sister on the wind.
And feel my feet lift off the ground the faster I run.
Soon I'm zooming through the woods, my spirit passing through trees, branches, bushes, every obstacle. The world blurs around me. I don't need breath or energy—I just go, so fast that soon I'm flying, my toes barely touching down.
This is what it's like to travel as a spirit. I thought I wasn't able to do it. The truth was, I needed a destination in mind. I had to want to get somewhere.
After several long moments of racing through the woods, incorporeal and barely aware of my surroundings, I skid to a stop. There's a definite presence near me, one I know instantly is my sister.
"Lizzy." My voice is a gasp in the air. Orienting myself, I take note of my surroundings. I'm in some kind of small rural town, a sign for the highway in one direction, pit stops and cafes in the other. She's straight ahead of me, out of sight but very much there. "I'm coming for you. You're going to get to rest, finally. I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner."
Running past a corner store and a few small houses, I turn a corner and find her resting place: a red brick church with a dingy faded sign out front declaring a Bible verse for all who pass by. There's a cross at the steeple and untended land out back. Something like horror goes through me as I realize he must have brought her here to do his ceremony. The land behind the church is heavy with the sense of her; he must have buried her somewhere under ground. That realization sits heavy inside me, like I swallowed a toad and it's kicking around in my stomach.
We're witches, and this is hallowed ground, but this is