Part 23 (1/2)

Dr. Newhaus continued lecturing about how the Undead cope with death, but I was no longer paying attention. How had I known the word Wanderl.u.s.t? How had I known any of the answers I'd been blurting out in my cla.s.ses all semester? I was still lost in my thoughts when the bell rang.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Noah gazing at me as Clementine whispered something to him. Throwing my books in my bag, I gave him a quick glance, and left.

I ran across the courtyard, back to my room, and I slammed the door.

All semester I had been wondering where the information in my head was coming from. Where the visions were coming from. Could it be from Wanderl.u.s.t?

Pacing across the rug, I thought back to what Dr. Newhaus had said in cla.s.s: when the Undead takes a human's soul, there were two kinds of possible transfers -information and extended memories. It seemed I had a little of both.

Hadn't I exchanged souls with Dante last spring?

When we kissed, hadn't I relived his memories of when we first met in science cla.s.s, of when we first kissed in the Latin cla.s.sroom, of when we were called into Headmistress Von Laark's office for the last time?

Hadn't I also relived events that I'd never actually experienced before? His sister getting pneumonia. Flying in an airplane with his family. Cras.h.i.+ng into the water. Dante drowning.

Like a burst of cold air, the truth wrapped itself around me. I leaned against my bedpost in shock. When we exchanged souls last spring, I had absorbed some of Dante's memories. I had been reliving Dante's past and unknowingly absorbing information he had once learned. That was how I knew what Wanderl.u.s.t was, how I knew about the ile des Soeurs, how I knew that canaries were used in coal mines. Because Dante knew all of those things.

I don't know how long I stood there going over everything in my head. If I had absorbed Dante's memories, did that mean that my visions belonged to him, too?

Dr. Newhaus had said that Wanderl.u.s.t was about absorbing memories, but my visions weren't Dante's memories. I was seeing them long after our kiss, and it seemed like they were happening now, not in the past. Then again, we were soul mates; everything worked differently with us.

”My sis-” I'd said to the nurse in my vision of the hospital, just before I'd corrected myself to say brother. Dante had had a sister. And the cemetery. Dante had been there right after my vision; he'd known exactly where the Monitor section on the map was, and he'd noticed the headstone just before I tripped over it.

I thought back to the night before my birthday, when I had my first vision. Had Dante chased Miss LaBarge through the waters of Lake Erie? ”You?” she'd said. Could she have been talking about Dante? In the vision, I'd had long hair. Dante did, too. Was it possible that he'd taken her shovel and then killed her?

Unable to control myself, I began to tremble. No. Maybe I was seeing him in my visions, but he couldn't have killed anyone. I had to believe that he would never hurt anyone. He'd told me himself that he wouldn't, that he wouldn't hurt me....Except he had. I was hurt now. And Miss LaBarge was dead. What explanation could he possibly have?

Outside, the day faded to night, and tiny snowflakes floated in through the open window on a cool, swirling breeze. Standing up, I lowered the pane and went to splash my face with water. But when I turned the k.n.o.b of the bathroom door, it was locked again.

”Go away,” Clementine yelled from inside, though this time her voice was different. There were no girls in the background whispering or giggling.

She blew her nose. Quietly, I pressed my ear to the door, only to hear the soft sound of her crying.

”I can hear you,” she yelled suddenly. ”Go away.”

Stunned, I fell back. And without thinking, I slipped on my coat and scarf, getting ready to leave. I didn't care where.

When I opened the door from my bedroom to the hall, Noah was right in front of me, his arm raised as if he were about to knock.

”Noah,” I said, jumping. ”What are you doing here?”

He looked red and fl.u.s.tered, his brow gathered into a tiny wrinkle. When he saw me, his face softened. ”I just wanted to see you.”

I scratched my head, confused. Behind me I could hear Clementine turn the faucet on in the bathroom.

”You seem upset. Are you leaving?” he asked, betraying a hint of panic as he surveyed my coat and scarf.

”I-I'm fine,” I said, unable to think coherently enough to form a proper response. ”I'm just going for a walk.”

”Can I come?”

I glanced at Clementine's door. The last thing I needed was for Clementine to find out that Noah was here, talking to me. ”Okay.”

”Okay.”

We walked in silence, both lost in our own thoughts as the traffic lights changed soundlessly in front of us. As we waited on the curb for a car to pa.s.s, Noah turned to me. ”I broke up with Clementine for good.”

His words took a moment to sink in. ”I'm so sorry.” I didn't know what else to say.

”Thanks.”

He didn't offer anything more, and I didn't ask.

The city was different at night. Without any destination we meandered down the streets, past s.e.x shops and head shops, tattoo parlors and peep shows. The windows of the storefronts were smudged and cracked and glowing neon.

As we pa.s.sed under the awning of an all-night cafe, I stopped. Through the gla.s.s I spotted someone wearing a tan suit coat that looked incredibly familiar.

”That's Dr. Newhaus,” I said.

Our psychology professor was sitting alone at a table, staring down at a plate of food, deep in thought.

It was a smoky French bistro, the kind that served cheap wine. A television was on, tuned to a hockey game. There were barely any people inside, save for two older men smoking cigars, and a group of college boys heckling a waitress.

”I wonder why he's out so late alone,” I murmured, watching him pick at his food.

”Do you know about him?” Noah asked from over my shoulder.

”Know what?”

”He was one of the best Monitors in his cla.s.s. My father told me he was fearless; always the first to volunteer, and later the first one on the trail of an Undead. They used to be friends a long time ago.

”Eventually he got married and had a son. Apparently I was friends with the kid when we were both younger, though I can't remember any of it.”

”You don't see him anymore?”

Noah shook his head. ”He died when he was ten. Fell out of a tree in their front yard.”

I raised my hand to my mouth.

”In his grief, Dr. Newhaus decided that instead of burying him, he would wait until his son reanimated. That's when he and my father started drifting apart.”

”What do you mean?”

”Dr. Newhaus decided to homeschool his son. The rumors are that his wife wanted to bury the boy, but Dr. Newhaus couldn't bear it. Supposedly that was what eventually destroyed their family-not the death itself, but Dr. Newhaus's inability to cope with it.”

”What do you mean, it destroyed their family?”

Inside the restaurant, a haggard waitress carrying a tray was standing behind Dr. Newhaus, speaking to him, but the professor was lost in his thoughts and didn't seem to hear her. Only after she touched his arm did he turn around.

”His wife divorced him, leaving him to care for his Undead son alone.” Noah shrugged. ”You know how it ends. Folly after folly, and eventually he had to bury him. Bury his own son. Can you imagine?”