CHAPTER EIGHT

We explain everything. Abilities, spirits, ghosts, the council and the prophecy. I tell him about all that's happened, all I've learnt, even going as far as the Origins, the Anarkk and Avexyr.

It takes hours. By the time Sarah and I finally shut up, the clock on the wall reads midday, and my father looks dizzy and tired. "I think we need to take a break," Sarah says. "Do you mind if I use your bathroom?" she asks my father. He looks at her for a second then nods. "Down the hall, on the left. It's near the back door."

She nods and stands, disappearing down the hall.

"Do you want a minute?" I ask. "To let it all sink in?"

He nods. "Yeah, that would be...uh..." He leaves his sentence unfinished, already lost in his thoughts. His eyes almost look like they did Before, when he spent his days tired and sad, and I can tell the information-dump has taken a toll on him.

I sit in silence, allowing him to think things through. After a moment, he stands, crossing to the window and bracing his hands against the frame as her stares out into the light.

I give him a couple more minutes before speaking. "Look, dad, I'm-" I'm sorry, I want to say, but my words get stuck in my throat. I want to apologise for leaving him, for getting his wife killed and causing his car crash, for impersonating his daughter and forcing him to move from city to city, and then returning weeks later and dumping my messed up life into his lap. The guilt is too great and it swarms uncomfortably inside me, its dark fingers spreading to even the farthest reaches of my body.

"It's okay," he says after a minute, as if he can tell what I was trying to say. "I understand."

I have to hold in a laugh. "You do? I just left you. What possible reason could I have for doing that? I got mum killed and I just left. I don't even know what I was thinking. How could you not hate me for all I've put this family through, all I've done?"

He turns to face me. "I could never hate you, Melissa."

I look down at my hands and shake my head. "What happened to you?" I ask softly. "You've changed."

"For better or for worse?"

I look up and meet his gaze. "Better. Clearly."

His eyes flick momentarily to the fridge, where his post-it notes cover more than half the available surface. "I wouldn't say that."

I frown, but then as I look around again, understanding dawns. When I first walked in, everything appeared bright and organised; the house seemed to be brimming with positivity and warmth. But a closer look reveals the truth: the strict order to every object and piece of furniture; the uncanny cleanliness, as though the entire house has been scrubbed to the bone again and again. Even the post-its look irregular, their positive words suddenly seeming a lot like shouts, like commands.

A look at my father reveals what I didn't notice before, what I mistook for freshness and clarity. His hands are calloused and tinged red. His clothing is too straight, too neat, and so is his hair, every strand combed obsessively into place.

The house no longer looks warm and inviting. It looks severe and uniform.

"About a week after you left, I realised I only had two options-" he says, "live cooped up in this empty house for the rest of my life, or move on - make it a home, make myself a life. But my early attempts at making the place liveable turned obsessive. I arranged and rearranged every object, plucked every stray weed, vacuumed every speck of dust. And I cleaned. I cleaned everything - twice, three times, four times, until my hands throbbed and my eyes were stinging from the chemicals. I can't stop. I only leave the house to do the shopping and then I get right back into ordering, fixing, cleaning. And the worst part is, I can always find something more to do, and then I'll be doing one thing, and I'll think of another, or two, for five, and I'll dash inside and add it to the list, sticking it on the fridge. I don't know how to stop."

My throat constricts, the dark fingers of guilt stabbing at my heart. "I'm so sor-"

"No, don't," he interrupts. "It's not your fault."

"Of course it is. I'm the one who tore apart this family."

He shakes his head. "That's not true. Those people that you mentioned - the Annarks? - they're the ones who did this. They're the ones you should blame, not yourself."

I go to respond, but he beats me to it. "Shouldn't Sarah be back by now? It's been nearly ten minutes."

I'm not so willing to leave the topic behind, but I answer him anyway. "She's probably just taking her time. Then, in a mumble, I add: "Probably just giving us some space."

"Maybe you should check on her," my father - her father, our father - says.

"I'm sure she's fine."

"But if all you said is true, then couldn't she be in danger?"

"Sure, but we haven't seen any sign of danger for weeks," I say, unsure of why he's pushing the topic. Then I see his face and I realise why he really wants me to go check on her: he wants to see her - his real daughter. He wants me to bring her back so they can speak.

I push away the hurt as soon as I feel it. Sarah's his daughter. It's only natural that he want to see her. "I'll be right back," I say, standing, and he nods.

I walk down the hallway, which is dark from a lack of natural light. The bathroom door is open when I reach it, revealing a dark, empty room, and when I turn my head I notice the back door is open too.

I keep going, stepping out into the backyard. And there's Sarah, standing on the back patio, facing the yard. I close the sliding door behind me and when it clicks shut she turns, eyes meeting mine. "Your father was worried about you," I say in explanation as I walk to stand beside her. "You've been gone for over ten minutes."

"Did you really have to go that far?" she asks out of nowhere, ignoring what I just said.

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't have to tell him everything. It was a bit much, don't you think?"

I take a step away from her, my hands up in surrender as I venture further into the yard. "Hey, we did that together. If you had wanted to stop, you could have. Besides, he had to know."

"All at once, though? Couldn't we have eased him into it? That amount of raw information is hard to digest. I mean, it was hard for me, and I only learnt it in small portions over a period of years. I can't even imagine what he must be thinking."

I nod. "I know, but I didn't know how else to do it. We didn't exactly come up with a plan, remember?"

"You're the one who said you were just going to wing it! You should have thought ahead."

"Okay, sure, I should have. Now can we please not start arguing again?"

Sarah looks at me silently for a few moments, her gaze transforming from hardened to soft. "Sorry, I don't know why it keeps happening. We never used to argue."

I just nod, because while she may not know why things have changed between us - or at least may deny that she knows - I do. There's a rift growing between us, and she unknowingly pulled the loose thread, tearing apart the steady seam and leaving behind a gaping hole. And it's only getting worse.

We stand in silence for a moment, the wind rushing around us. Off to my right, I spy a spirit dancing through the trees. I can't even recall the last time I took notice of one - they may as well have just disappeared. Watching it reminds me of that first day, when Caden approached me on the lawn. It was only a month ago, in early April, but it feels as though it's been years.

"That's funny," Sarah says and when my eyes land on her, I get a small shock at her appearance, having temporarily forgotten that we'd swapped. It takes me a second to remind myself of all that's happened and to get my suddenly racing heartbeat under control.

"What is?" I ask, and despite my best efforts, my voice still trembles slightly.

"I shouldn't be able to see spirits anymore. My only connection to the otherworld was through being in the wrong body, but we've swapped back now."

I consider her words. "Maybe you retain that connection," I say. "Maybe it's something you can't lose."

She frowns. "Maybe."

The spirit picks that exact instant to shoot forward, out of the trees. I barely have any time to react - one moment it's on the other side of the yard, the next its flying straight for Sarah.

"Sarah, look out!" I shout, but I'm not fast enough. She looks just in time to see the spirit coming towards her, then it punctures her body and disappears. I watch on, horrified, as it emerges out the other side and shoots off. Spirits are deathly cold - even just standing near one can freeze you to your core - and this one just passed straight through my best friend.

I'm afraid to speak. I'm afraid that my very voice will reveal the ice statue she's surely turned into and shatter her. But I speak anyway, unable to stop myself. "Sarah?" I ask quietly.

She's as pale as a sheet, frozen to the spot, but somehow she turns her head to look at me.

I gasp, stumbling backwards, nearly tripping over my own feet in my fear. Her face is as white as a cloud and her mouth is parted in silent shock. But that's not what terrifies me. What terrifies me are her eyes, which are completely white - no pupil, no colour - just a horrible, misty white, like clouds have parked themselves over her irises.

And her face, which ripples as if there are worms crawling under her skin.

"Sarah," I whisper again, this time out of fear, hoping the sound of my voice will be enough to bring her back.

She cocks her head to one side, a frown appearing between her eyebrows, and then slowly her eyes begin to clear, the white draining away. Beneath, her familiar blue eyes are revealed, rich in emotion - namely confusion. Then her skin regains its colour, pink flowing back into her cheeks, and the skin smooths out and solidifies, no longer rippling.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asks.

I let out a laugh, but it sounds crazed and hysterical. "A spirit just flew straight through you, Sarah. You should have been frozen, but you weren't, and then your eyes went white and your skin was rippling and you were so pale and... You looked like a ghost," I finish in a whisper.

Sarah looks at her hands, and as she does so, they ripple and shift, her skin fading away until it seems as though her hands are made of mist. It pushes up against the invisible boundary of her skin and then breaks free for a moment, spreading out into the air.

A gasp escapes Sarah's lips and then the mist is sucked inwards and her hands return to normal. She stares at them in shock for a moment, clenching and unclenching her fingers.

"What just happened?" she asks breathlessly.

I'm tempted to tell her I don't know, but a whispered voice tells me that I do know. "I think you have an ability," I say.

She shakes her head. "No, no way. That's not me. I would know if I had an ability."

"Then how else do you explain surviving that spirit? It passed right through you. You must have turned yourself - or at least your insides - to mist in order for it to do so without freezing you solid."

She shakes her head again. "No, that can't be possible. Abilities are inherited, Melissa - Maya - whatever. But my parents don't have powers. You would know - you're the one who grew up with them. They're just normal people."

I look at her, frowning, and then a realisation starts to form in my mind. "Sarah, what if - what if your parents aren't just normal people? What if..."

Her eyes widen. "Thomas," she says. And then she's heading quickly for the back door, pulling it open. I follow her, my steps quick as we make our way down the quiet hallway, my heart pounding in my chest.

When we reach the front of the house, Sarah comes to a halt and I stop beside her. The dining room that I'd left him in his empty, and a breeze flutters in through the open front door, ruffling the calendar hanging on the wall.

"He's gone," Sarah says disbelievingly, and I swallow.

Looks like the father and mother I grew up with were keeping a secret of their own.

A/N

Hey everyone!

Sorry for the super late update - I've literally had almost no time for writing lately. Unfortunately, the next chapter will be a while off as well, and probably the one after that. But bear with me. Come December, I should be able to update weekly again :)

Anyway, I hope you liked this update!

- Shaye xx