They were such a frequent presence at the Academy, I’d become used to them.
“Hello, miss. Hello, sir.” Quentin was a formal child.
I smiled. “Hello.”
“Um,” said Harvey. “Hi.”
The throng of ghosts drifted closer. A chill surrounded them, like winter fog.
“Can we see your drawing?” whispered a girl with weeds in her hair.
“Oh,” said Harvey hesitantly. “Sure.”
He held up the sketchbook. The ghost children murmured admiringly. Harvey, brightening, showed them several more pictures. One was of me.
“I should like to draw a portrait of Miss Sabrina,” said Quentin.
Harvey dug a packet of fancy art crayons out of his pocket and offered them to Quentin. The ghost’s icy white hands passed through the crayons. Quentin seemed sorrowfully resigned.
A line appeared between Harvey’s brows. “Wait.” He crushed a green crayon in his hand, then held out the smeared mess. “Try it now.”
From Harvey’s hand, Quentin was able to pluck the ghost of a crayon. Quentin’s face suffused with faintly sparkling joy. Harvey began to methodically crush more crayons and pass them out to the ghosts.
There was a shimmer at the back of the crowd. A final girl appeared.
She was the ghost of a little girl no more than six. Black ringlets cascaded around her starving-thin, skull-white face. Her sunken eyes were pools of darkness, jet black from edge to edge. As she shuffled forward, I saw gray slime at the edge of her gown. She looked like a cross between the girl from the well in The Ring and a possessed porcelain doll.
“Lavinia doesn’t talk much,” said Quentin.
“Maybe she’s just shy.” Harvey held the last crushed crayon out to her. Lavinia crept toward the bright color and his kind smile. When she leaned against his knee, Harvey curved a hand over her curly hair. “Me too, sweetheart,” he murmured.
Quentin coughed. “Miss?”
I sidled over to him. Not much worried about a ghost—the worst had definitely already happened—but Quentin appeared concerned.
“Lavinia does talk sometimes. When we try to rest in our graves, our peace is disturbed by her muttering ‘Kill, kill, kill.’ ”
I turned back to Harvey in alarm. Lavinia the nightmare child was sketching—on the wall—a decapitated body floating in a red lake.
“Sometimes drawing things helps get them out of your head, huh,” said Harvey sympathetically. “I draw demons sometimes. Wanna see me draw a demon?”
Her ringlets moved in a tiny nod. It appeared Lavinia would.
“Harvey, could I have a word?”
“’Course, ’Brina.”
He stood, and then glanced down in surprise. The ghost girl reached out a ghastly white hand, no bigger than a doll’s, and caught at his jeans.
“Obey me, mortal. ” Her voice rasped like a dry road and rattled like old bones. Her face rippled as though her skin was liquid, revealing long teeth.
Harvey jerked back, then scrambled to keep from falling down the stairs. I called magic into the hollow of my palm.
Harvey’s head turned. “’Brina, no!”
I chose to hear ’Brina, maybe. I lowered my hand but kept my magic ready.
Through her distorted maw came a little-girl whisper. “I scared you.”
“You surprised me,” Harvey corrected her. “I’m—I’m not a coward. Did you not mean to be scary? Like Marrow. She’s a superhero. Marrow’s startling-looking, but she’s cool. It’s not cool to grab people, though.”
The terrifying mask crumpled. “I want you to stay ,” Lavinia the ghost whispered, plaintive.
Harvey knelt. “Hey, I’ll be right back. Be a good girl. Wait for me.”
He went to me, leaving her staring after him. It was difficult to tell with those chasm-black eyes, but I thought her gaze was wistful.
I drew Harvey down our double staircase. “That Obey me, mortal thing was unsettling!”
He shrugged. “Kids say weird stuff. My neighbor told me so.”
Given half a chance, Harvey would always choose to care for people, to help and protect them. Harvey worried he was a coward, but I knew he was brave.
If he’d found a way not to fear the ghosts, I was glad.
“What did you want to talk about, ’Brina?”
Another topic occurred to me. “This morning at breakfast, when we were talking about Nick …”
Harvey went pale. “I don’t really wanna talk about it!”
“You said he hates you. Harvey, why would you think that?”
Harvey shrugged uncomfortably. “I’m not crazy about him either.”
I stared in astonishment. “You don’t like Nick? I can’t imagine anyone not liking Nick! He’s amazing.”
Harvey’s face worked through a series of twitches I couldn’t interpret.
“Right,” he said eventually. “Well, he’s your boyfriend. Obviously, you like him.”
“Everybody likes him! You like Nick, don’t you?”
My gaze went to Agatha, trying to reach the kitchen door without us noticing. Her plan foiled, she glared at me. Agatha never made eye contact with Harvey. “A lot more than I like you, Sabrina.”
The Academy students went by in a procession. Elspeth gave Harvey a little wave.
“I like Nick,” she contributed. “Very sexy guy.”
“An inspiration to us all,” Melvin agreed.
“Fantastic,” said Harvey. “He’s witch prom king.”
I studied Harvey with growing distress. I’d never considered this before, but Nick being so incredible might be intimidating.
“Is this about him forgetting your name that time? I’m sorry, Harvey, but we had a lot on our minds. Nick knows a ton of people, he’s universally popular—”
“Congratulations to Nick,” Harvey broke in. “For the record, it wasn’t just one time. He gets my name wrong on purpose , because he’s a jackass.”
“Nick would never! He’s always nice.” I paused. “Well, he’s always nice to me.”
“Is he?” Harvey’s voice was unusually sharp. “Is he that guy who’s only nice to the girl he’s into? Gotta love that guy.”
It had never occurred to me that anyone as close to me as Harvey could see Nick so differently. If Harvey actually disliked Nick, did he want Nick back at all?
I sat down hard on the bottom step of the stairs. My aunts were preoccupied. Ambrose was abroad. Nick was in hell. My mortal friends were the only support I had left.
“Oh God.” Harvey knelt, taking my hands in his. “I’m sorry, ’Brina. I saw what Nick did. I know he’s a good guy.”
“He’s the best,” I whispered.
“It’s just … he talks to me as if I’m stupid.”
“He doesn’t think you’re stupid,” I assured Harvey. “Once we get Nick back, you guys will be friends.”
Harvey’s mouth twisted. “It doesn’t matter. He’s not my favorite person in the world, Sabrina, but I understand he’s yours.” Harvey gave our joined hands an encouraging shake, adding conspiratorially: “And we will get him back.”