Witches of East End - By Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,44

the first level of the underlayer, and it would be easy enough to pull him to the surface.

"That's what I thought." They arrived at the right room, but before Ingrid opened the door, she turned to Joanna. "Thanks, Mother."

Joanna patted her daughter's arm. She would never have agreed to it unless Ingrid had asked, and since Ingrid never asked for anything, as her mother she couldn't refuse. Besides, Emily Foster's story piqued Joanna's sense of injustice. Marriages weren't held together by paperwork, and it angered her to think that a woman could be thrown out of her home simply due to bad luck and horrid in-laws.

Ingrid pushed open the door to find Emily Foster weeping by Lionel's bedside. His body was covered by a sheet, and Ingrid exchanged a startled look with her mother before approaching.

"They pulled the plug while I went home to change my clothes and check on our animals. When I came back the nurse told me his mother signed the consent forms. She knew I wouldn't agree so they did it behind my back. He's gone. He's gone, Ingrid. You're too late," Emily sobbed.

Joanna pulled off the sheet slowly and took the dead man's wrist in her hand. His skin was gray, and his fingernails were white and bloodless, but there was still a hint of color on his forearms. "The body's still warm. They did this when . . . just a few minutes ago?" she asked.

"Just before you arrived," Emily said.

"Emily, this is my mother. She's going to help Lionel."

"I remember," Emily said, blowing her nose. "Hi, Mrs. Beauchamp."

"Close the door," Joanna instructed. "Draw the curtains and take her out of here."

Ingrid did as told and guided Emily out of the room. "What's going to happen? I mean, he's dead, right?" Emily asked, looking at the two witches fearfully.

Ingrid and Joanna exchanged another glance. "Not quite. Even without a machine, the heart keeps beating, it's just undetectable as it's a very, very low pulse," Joanna said, hoping the newly bereaved woman would believe her tiny white lie. But it would be too difficult to tell her the truth: that she was going to bring Lionel back from the dead. He had been gone for only a few minutes, not even an hour, which was well within the allotted time.

When she was alone in the room, Joanna took Lionel's cold hand in hers. She closed her eyes and stepped into the glom, the twilight world of disembodied souls. In the glom was a path, a trail in the sand. Using her wand to light the way, Joanna saw that Lionel had made it only to the second level; he was climbing the mountain toward the gate, and once he crossed the gate it would be much harder to bring him back. For beyond the Kingdom of the Dead lay Hell's frontier.

There was something different about the glom, a sense of malice and despair that she had never felt before. "Lionel! Lionel!" she called. She wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

Lionel Horning turned around. He was bald and severe-looking, dressed in his usual attire of paint-splattered clothing. When he saw her he smiled. "Mrs. Beauchamp, what are you doing here?"

Joanna climbed up next to him so that they were both looking over the view. "Taking you home."

"I'm dead, aren't I?" he asked.

"Only in human terms. Your heart has stopped beating," Joanna said.

"Did I drown? I seem to remember being all wet."

"You did."

"Emily always said that ocean would get the better of me one day."

Joanna analyzed his spirit. There were traces of a silver spiderweb around his soul; she had never seen that before and it worried her. "Would you prefer to stay here?" she asked Lionel.

He looked around. "Not really. What is this place?"

"Think of it as the halfway station. See that gate up there? Once you reach it, it'll be harder to get you to the surface."

"How's Emily?"

"Not good. She's about to get thrown out of your house."

"My parents!" he groaned. "I know I should have forced her to marry me. She's stubborn, you know." He sighed. "I can't leave her."

"Then don't."

He stared at the glimmering path, at the mountain trail that reached toward the silver gate. She knew how hard this decision was. He had been in the underlayer, in the glom, for a week now. He had forgotten about hardship and fear; he was beginning to transition to the spirit world. Perhaps this wasn't such a great idea. Perhaps