I should've known something was wrong when her crying never stopped.

I guess I should've known something was wrong when it did a few hours later, and silence ensued. When the last bits of sunlight retracted their bright fingers from the sky, freeing me to move, Quinn was nowhere to be seen.

"Quinn?"

I stared at the little mound on her grave. Jason planted something under the earth, and it wasn't flowers. It radiated with pretty energy and glinted a little, half-hidden by dirt. Perhaps it was a personal item.

Why didn't we notice it before?

"Quinn, Jason left something here for you. Where are you?"

Watchers moved, grinding granite filling the night air. I stood, staring at the grave that used to be Quinn's favorite place to stay. Now it was empty, save for her decayed remains.

Dirge ran to my side, tail wagging, a stick in his mouth. His granite hackles rose when he sensed my energy. With a low whine, he dropped the stick.

"Not now, boy. We have to find Quinn."

"Five minutes into the night and you already lost your charge?" Angelica mused beside me. "Not to mention you broke the rules and spoke in daylight. You are lucky Maria didn't hear you."

My head dropped an inch.

She stretched her wings. Rock-like particles poured from her frame in a cascade of gritty dust. She shook herself out. Jessie York, her charge, pulled herself up from her casket and gazed up at me with amused, steel eyes.

"Such a rebel, right? I was too. It was the death of me," she said, showcasing a grin full of broken, yellow teeth. Angelica nodded in agreement. "And that's why it's taking me so long to cross over—I'm still bitter about my death. Your spirit, Quinn, is obviously put out about somethin'. I saw 'er go to the west gate—but minutes before the sun went down. You might want to go get 'er."

"Thanks, Jessie."

"Try to be more careful," Angelica soothed. She put her hands on my face. Even though her hands were calming, it did nothing compared to Jason's warm, electric touch. The thought made me shiver. "Promise?"

I bit my granite lip. I appreciated her kindness but secretly loathed her perfections. Quinn wasn't even my first charge—and yet, to Angelica, I knew nothing.

"Promise."

I held her hand in mine. When I was about to turn, a scream pierced the air, causing ravens to flee from the shadowy haven of the willow trees.

From the way my stone heart clenched like a fist, I knew, by instinct, that my charge was in danger. I ran toward her screams, passing other Watchers. Growls reached my ears, stirring doom deep within my soul.

Reapers.

Dirge gained and was beside me, lunging over gravestones.

"Quinn!" I shouted.

By the corner of the graveyard near our oldest willow tree, Quinn hopped over the rock gate enclosing the cemetery. Her mouth hung open and her eyes were as big as the moon.

Reapers caught up to her, taking her down as they jumped over the border. Their greasy, slick fur was raised. Their eyes glowed ruby, the color of violence and blood.

They pinned her to the ground, shaking her with their jaws. Other Reapers howled at the moon, almost as if they were cheering on the chaos. Grabbing the nearest thick tree branch, I snapped it off. I hopped over a puddle and swung, making contact with a Reaper's body.

It whined, flying against the rock fence with a sickening crack.

I looked around me wildly. I was alone, save Quinn and the Reapers. Where was everybody? Why weren't they helping me?

That was fine. I can handle this myself.

Finding the aged power within myself, I called it to my fingertips, raising my hands. A bright, iridescent ball of light permeated the surrounding air, zeroing in on the creatures. When the light met their skin, it sizzled and popped. They howled, backing toward the forest. I pushed the white boundary out further with my mind, chasing them with it.

Panicked, they jumped over the boundary, disappearing into the night—all except for one that was too injured to make the leap.

Hopping over Quinn's shaking form, I reached out, got a good grip on its leathery skin, and snapped its neck. I placed my hands in its slimy mouth and pulled, ripping its black head off its body. Muscle and veins threaded between my hands like puppet strings.

A few seconds later, the Reaper's body turned to ashes, floating toward the sky. I dropped the head. When it hit the earth, it dissolved. Over the gate, and through the thick, dark woods, a cloaked figure stood, head cocked to the side, watching me curiously.

How long had it been there?

The figure stepped into the dim light of the moon. A clean, white skull, partly concealed by a black satin hood, sported deep sockets where eyes should be. Every part of me froze. Every noise around me faded—like the world was fading, and all that was left was me and this figure.

We stared at one another.

It wasn't just a spirit, like the ghosts that roamed Willow Hills. By the way power crawled across the fog at my feet, licking up my legs and abdomen like hungry tongues of fire, I knew, right then, that this being was the governor of all departed things.

"Death," I managed to hiss.

"Keep your charge inside the cemetery, Watcher," an emotionless voice rasped. The voice was in my head, not in the world around me. I shuddered. "Or I shall snap your soul like brittle bone and feast on your essence."

Death vanished in swirls of ebony smoke. Quinn looked back and forth between me and the spot where Death appeared, her arms outstretched in confusion.

"Did you see him, too?"

I nodded, too enraged to speak.

"Yeah, so, he's been chasing me."

I jerked my chin up, balling my hands into fists so hard that my fingers chipped on one another. She didn't understand the danger she brought to us. Her voice was aloof. Yeah, so, he's been chasing me.

She'd gone out there, unprotected, without my guidance! And somehow, someway, she survived. I opened my mouth, to ask how she managed, but Watchers and spirits approached. Instead, I let my concern get the best of me.

My voice was gravelly. "Are you okay?"

Her wide eyes stared at me numbly. She was in shock, maybe. Good for her. "I think so?"

The Watchers of Willow Hills crowded in a circle around us, murmuring to each other. Glowing soldiers from a war long past pointed their guns at the trees, eyes ever scanning. Dust and ash from Reapers swirled around us in a tiny tornado.

Maria approached and knelt in front of Quinn. Her concrete birds landed from flight on her shoulders, gazing at me with accusation. The birds' cold, hard eyes burned into me.

Quinn was losing substance. Her ghostly form wasn't as bright as it should've been. The Reapers must have drained her. After Maria looked her over, she turned to the crowd.

"Everybody, please. Gretta handled this. Make your way back to the center of the cemetery. This is over and done."

"Handled it myself, you mean." I knelt to wipe my hands on the dewy, glittering grass. When I got most of the blood off, I glared at Quinn. She glared right back. It wasn't like I expected anything else.

Maria's voice was laced with acid. "Your charge. Your duty."

"You have helped others," I accused.

"Reapers never jump the fence. We would have intervened if—"

"If I had died?"

Her porcelain brow creased. The group of spirits and Watchers dispersed.

"Keep your charge safe. Though she is new, she must know the rules. It looks bad on you to let danger come to her."

I nodded, bowing my head a little, feeling like my insides were filled with rocks—maybe they were. I had let danger come to my charge. How could Maria ever trust me to succeed now?

"Please do not let this become a problem." She reached out to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. "She seems to be fine, but weak."

"This was my fault. I'm sorry."

"Sorry does not mend a vanished spirit."

A sigh escaped my lips.

She shook her head. "I must go to my charge. The Watchers and spirits will be by the pond tonight. It's a full moon and the reflection on the water will be exquisite. I will not let your mistake ruin it for them."

"I'm sorry, Maria—"

"I forbid you to go after tonight's lapse in judgment. Take this time to meditate on what you did wrong."

Guilt made it hard to think of something to say. Tonight should've been one of my favorite nights—the full moon's shining. When it glinted off the water, it gave the spirits and Watchers energy. And with energy, spirits could cross over.

My charge mucked it all up!

I narrowed my eyes at Quinn. She reciprocated the action—of course she did—but stayed quiet.

"Safe watching, please," Maria whispered. "I don't want to deal with anything like this from you again."

When Maria left, I clenched my hands into fists. After long moments of glowering at Quinn, she picked herself off the ground and folded her arms stubbornly. Her form was regaining color and thickness. I would have been amazed if I wasn't so angry.

Her eyes darted to the fence and back to me three times before she spoke. "I guess you're pretty pissed off."

I frowned. Pissed off?

She sighed. "It means angry. Troubled. That sort of thing."

Troubled indeed. I would have loved to see the moon's silver light on the pond. I'd almost forgotten that it was tonight! Where was my mind?

Everything gushed out of me. "What were you doing, Quinn? Don't you know it's not safe to roam without me? Why would you walk too close to the fence?"

"I wasn't walking too close to the fence. I was trying to leave. They were going to let you die! They didn't even help you fight them off!"

"You would've been the one that killed me in the end!"

"Stop being melodramatic."

Anger boiled inside of me like a vat of acid, toxic and deadly. Dirge growled by my feet at my sudden mood shift. Dark, puffy clouds sailed in front of the moon, dampening the light glinting on the gravestones.

An oddly peaceful night for such a horrible thing to happen.

I shook my head. "No matter where you go, or how far you travel, the Reapers will find you when the sun goes down. It's too dangerous to leave."

Her walls fell. Her emotions hit me like a tidal wave: fear, anger, sadness, and spoiled anticipation. They were enough to make me feel them like they were my own. She shifted from foot to foot, almost as if she didn't want to respond.

Even though her walls were down, something festered at the edges of her aura like a sore. She was hiding something, a bigger reason as to why she wanted to leave. She isn't telling me everything.

Her bluish lips turned down at the sides. "I can't stay here, Gretta."

"Why not?"

"You heard what Jason said. He thinks my death was his fault. But it wasn't his fault. I'll never be able to cross over until he knows this!"

"And what, exactly, do you plan to do if you were to escape? Talk to him? You are a spirit. You can't make contact. Only the old spirits can do that, like Jessie York. She will probably cross within the next week, speaking of which..."

She approached me. Dirge snapped at her, but I put my leg out and moved him back a few paces. Quinn's eyes glittered with frustration, a fire in a wooded forest. How vibrant she was when angry.

I wonder if Jason looks like that when upset as well...

"Oh, we are just so proud of Jessie freaking York, aren't we? The good little spirit with the good little Watcher. Haven't you noticed that's not us? Jason is going to waste away, wallowing in his unjustified guilt. That's worse than actually dying!"

I bit back my anger at her words. Not because she was wrong, but because she was right. We would never be perfect like Jessie and Angelica, but that didn't matter right now.

Jason would be okay—he would accept the past one way or another. He had to. That's how grief worked. A sigh escaped my lips, coming from the boughs of my chest. Something, like a nagging worry, told me that perhaps that wasn't the case.

Maybe the bond between twin siblings was stronger than average. Regardless, I was made to understand and heal souls. Did she not think me up to the task?

That's worse than actually dying.

Her words cut into me like razors. Allen, the boy who took a piece of my heart with him, smiled behind my eyelids. His face turned into Jason's. And when it did, his eyes were full of crushing pain.

"You don't know that," I whispered, almost as if I were trying to convince myself. "You don't know that he will waste away. He could be happy... in time. Time is a bandage. It doesn't get rid of the injury, but it aids."

She ran a hand over her bald head. "I know my brother. I know that without me crossing over, I can't meet him on the other side. When he passes, he could be stuck here, too, thinking it was his fault. In this... hell."

I stared at her, trying to comprehend.

"It is my fault. My death. I pushed him away before it happened."

My jaw tensed. "You can't take it out on yourself. Brothers and sisters fight, Quinn."

"But not like we did."

"I don't understand."

"You don't know the entire story. I'm... different. And you wouldn't understand — you're a hunk of stone. How can you feel the way I feel?"

I flinched. "I just want to help."

"You aren't getting anything from me. Stop trying."

Stop trying. I wasn't even trying. I just wanted her to confide in me—to tell me more about the problems she had with Jason.

The moon that was hidden before by dark clouds was now shining. Drat. The congregation was going to start. And here I was, arguing with my charge, forbidden from taking part in the one thing I actually enjoyed about this place.

"Why does he think your death was his fault? How did you die, Quinn?"

There was a long pause.

"I don't want to talk about it."

I tasted her mind. She was thinking about her death. The impression of her thoughts was one of rushing darkness and brilliant flashes of electricity—lightning? Panic. Crushing weight. Shattering glass. Impossible to breathe. Alarms—like sirens—blared in the background over the howling wind.

"What was that?"

Before she spoke, she regained her aura, slammed down her walls, and the impression vanished.

"It's not what you think. I didn't do it on purpose. I just don't want to talk about it."

The greatest gift a spirit could give to their Watcher was the knowledge of their death. It was the ultimate symbol of trust.

Quinn obviously didn't trust me yet.

"Don't you care about my brother at all, though? I saw you sneaking a look at him when he came to visit."

Ah, of course she caught that.

Did I care? The memory of his warm, electric fingers on my skin made me shiver. I would give anything to feel that again. For the tiniest moment, with his touch, I felt alive.

I might've been a hunk of stone that couldn't feel, but I felt him.

A sense of longing came over me, but I wasn't sure if it was Quinn projecting her feelings. She was a strong enough spirit to influence the emotions of those around her. The stirrings inside of me could be her feelings and nothing more.

"It's not my place to care," I decided. The words sounded like lies. I changed the conversation before I gave too much away. "He left you a gift on your grave, by the way. I forgot to tell you."

Her eyes lit up a shade, her mood turning around so fast it left me reeling. "He did?"

I nodded.

Without saying another word, she ghosted past me toward her grave. I followed her, eyes scanning the darkness for Reapers. From somewhere nearby, an owl hooted. My mood was too sour to enjoy the quiet beauty of nature. I almost wanted a Reaper to cross over the fence, so I could take a swing at it.

As she knelt over her grave, she tried to dig up the gift, but her hands went right through the dirt. Sighing, she hunched her shoulders.

"Sometimes I forget I'm dead. A little help?"

I knelt, fingers prodding the loose earth. Something hard and delicate touched my fingers. I grabbed it and held it up, shaking it free of soil. It glinted in the soft light of the moon.

"My necklace." She sighed. "He brought me my necklace."

The pink crystal dangling from the chain glowed with energy. Despite the night, a smile came to my lips. Dirge plopped down in the grass by my feet, watching us in silence.

"It's your spirit object. See how it glows?"

Quinn blinked. "Spirit object?"

"Some spirits have one. It's glowing with your energy, so I would be willing to bet it's yours. You know spirits can haunt or possess certain objects, right?"

She nodded. "I've seen late-night specials about haunted dolls. They're kept behind a glass case sealed with salt. Creepy stuff."

I held it out in front of her. "Give it a try."

"Give what a try?"

"Try possessing the necklace."

When she reached for it, her spirit took on a misty form. She swirled in the air for a bit, then descended on the trinket. Like a sponge, it soaked her up. It glowed brightly from the chain, twinkling like a magnificent star.

Quinn's voice came quieter, pulling me out of my reverie. "Am I doing this right?"

I nodded, watching the vibrant hues churn in the necklace, pearly colors of blue, pink, and green. Oddly enchanting. It was amazing that she was able to achieve such a feat, especially after a Reaper attack.

"You are connected to it so strongly. It's so pretty. Where did you get it?"

"My brother got it from the county fair."

"It's beautiful. Can I put it on?"

Sometimes, when I didn't have much to think about, I played with the idea of being a real girl in my head. A young girl, who could wear different clothes and style my hair as I wished. My creator carved me out to be sixteen—and because of that, my mind was forever young.

She hesitated before answering. "Whatever, I guess you can put it on."

Dirge came to me, rubbing against my leg, itching for attention. I lifted the necklace, sliding it over my head, the crystal settling at the hollow of my throat. I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face. It felt like it belonged there.

Until the necklace started to burn.