"But first, come with me," Henry said, striding decisively toward the tree line. "Quickly, before we lose daylight. There's something I need to show you."

A brief frown marred Amy's forehead. Curiosity she thought had long perished was slowly taking over the fury she had cultivated so carefully against Henry. The grey, frozen earth beneath her feet seemed to adsorb her pain with each unsure step.

Soon they reached a resplendent white oak straddling what appeared to be the edge of a tiny hill. The tree adamantly refused to shed some of the amber leaves closer to its heavy trunk, in spite of the dispirited winter that had conquered the forest - the worst in a hundred years. The drop uncomfortably reminded Amy of the fall she had suffered many nights ago when she had recklessly chased a dark jacket through a freak storm.

Henry motioned with his bony fingers. "Let's go around. There's a gentler slope on the sides."

With a sharp ding of familiarity, Amy realized it was the same pit. In the darkness, she had fallen straight into an impressive hollow underneath the ancient oak. A half-smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she recollected more of that night. Amy said, "Why have you brought me here?"

"Turn around."

Nestled perfectly at the base of the white oak in the web of its pale, crisscrossing roots, was a weathered statue of an angel with a crown of thorns on her head. Her dusky skin had cracked, making her forlorn expression even more prominent. The angel's majestic afro - somehow carved perfectly into dark bronze - glittered with dirt and snow. Grey, wild, and free - just like Amy remembered it when the woman had been alive.

Unable to tear her eyes away, Amy muttered, "Henry... is that - is that your -"

"This statue was a gift to Selaena, former General of the Psychopomps and Cardinal of the Northwest, after she gave up her immortality to be with the man she loved - my grandfather. She became Selene Wigmore and they ran, searching for a sanctuary from town to town," said Henry, observing Amy's face. "But wherever they went, the statue followed. No matter what she did, it couldn't be destroyed. You can still see that charred spot by its right arm where Mee-maw tried a controlled detonation...

But nothing worked. Finally, she gave up and let it be - dumped the thing at the edge of the forest and covered it up with leaves, soil, and stones." Henry took out a thin votive candle from his jacket and crouched near the statue's feet, placing it on a flat rock before it. With a flick of his lighter, a small flame illuminated the natural alcove. "Come spring it all washes away."

Henry was quiet for a few moments, half of his face in shadow. "Whatever you saw in the gym that day... it changed everything, Amy. Knowing more could put you and those you love in danger. I hope you understand that."

Amy closed her eyes, letting his words seep into her soul. Her life had lost its predictability the second Caleb met her gaze in the school hallway. She no longer yearned for that succor. But now, Henry was offering her the final exit on this highway to hell. Even if her rational, logical, black-and-white world had been destroyed, there was still time to rebuild; restore the comfort of the known.

Her promise to Caleb echoed in Amy's mind and she shrugged off the allure of an easy way out. Taking a deep, readying breath, she fixed her attention on Henry, and demanded, "Don't hold back. Tell me everything."

Henry sat on a large rock near his grandmother's statue. Her large, broken wings seemed to shield his lanky frame. "Virgil came to town a few days after Caleb's death, sensing the presence of an errant soul. At first, it was difficult for him to discern the identity of the dead. No one had died in town, and since it had only been a short while, no one was reported missing. Usually, being guides to the souls of the dead, psychopomps can easily spot them in a crowd. Caleb was different. His aura wasn't as strong as the typical lost soul. It took Virgil almost a week to confirm his target.

At Natasha's party, I saw you with Caleb and it freaked me out. Later that night, Virgil came to my house. At first, he was calm, feigning an air of reason. My parents had no idea about my grandmother's past. You see, Mee-maw didn't know if her abilities as a psychopomp - her sight, mainly - would pass on to her children or not. Thankfully, none of them seemed to possess it and she believed her troubles were over. Twelve grandchildren and none of them supernatural. Grandma was happy."

Henry smiled ruefully. "And then I came along."

After fidgeting with the frayed sleeves of her sweatshirt, and debating if she believed what she was hearing, Amy sat beside Henry. A heavy lump in her throat made it difficult to speak. "You could see... dead people?"

Regarding Amy from the corner of his eye, Henry continued, "I didn't understand it at first. I would cry when strangers came up to me, yelling, trying to touch me but failing as their hands passed right through me. My parents started getting worried. Then one Thanksgiving, Mee-maw figured it out. She brought me here for the first time. Even years later, when I asked her about it, she never told me anything more than she did that day. Mee-maw said that she and I were special. We could see the departed but we were not to make contact. They'd let me be if they didn't know I could see them.

'Just pretend that they don't exist and they'll go away. Promise me that you'll never try to talk to them and that you will never go near them,' she told me. And for a while after that, things were normal. Whenever I'd get curious, she'd shoot me down. 'Go pray to Jesus,' she'd say, the picture of a grand ol' lady from the South. Eventually, I stopped asking."

A dark shadow passed over his twisted face. Henry spoke with regret bleaching his every word, "I wish I hadn't, Amy. I wouldn't have to learn all her secrets from Virgil. At first, he only wanted me to find out more about Caleb's unique condition. It made him an ugly sort of excited - like he could use Caleb somehow. He realized that Anaxan was responsible and that night, Virgil drank like a fish, celebrating something sinister.

'The world is about to go down, boyo,' he said to me. 'And you are going to help me tear it apart.'

... When Gemma let slip that you had gotten her and Robin involved, I told them to stay away. You discovered the problem with Caleb too... his presence was a death call to any living soul around. The weaker the mind, the stronger its effect."

Amy clenched her fist and stood up, apoplectic with rage. "You could've helped us! Instead of telling my best friends to abandon me, you could've told me how to save Caleb -"

"You don't understand, there was no way," cried Henry, grabbing clumps of his hair in his fist. "V hurt me, Amy. Threatened to kill me if my parents tried to alert the police. Told me he'd kill them if I didn't follow his orders. I couldn't help even if I wanted to -"

"Bullshit! You just wanted to save yourself!"

Henry's eyes were a sea of red-hot anger. "You would've done the same."

Hollow laughter shook Amy's frame. "You're right! But Caleb is dead, and he was murdered not once but twice!" She snarled, striding away from him. "I'm done with you."

Henry kicked the dirt and followed her. "I tried to help you! For three days after Caleb's funeral, Virgil tortured me day and night till I agreed to lure Caleb near the church so I could kill him and become a psychopomp."

"Well, you should've! You sold Caleb out. At least you could've done it properly."

"Yeah? I guess I shouldn't have talked Virgil out of killing you too!"

Amy stopped. "What did you say?"

"To leave no loose ends, he was going to hurt you," Henry huffed, his hands clamped over his knees from exhaustion. "I told him I wouldn't kill Caleb if he harmed you. I was never going to murder him either. I knew Virgil was monitoring me, so I waited to tell you or Caleb to run away." Tears fell from his eyes onto the forest floor. "I was too late," Henry gulped throatily. "That is the only thing I'll apologize for."

Amy just stood in front of him, cold and unyielding. Her pain was far greater than Henry's because what she had lost was permanent. However, seeing him suffer for his actions did ease the clotting in her own rotten heart. "Lucky for you, someone was there after all. That woman..." Amy hissed, still unable to utter her name. "She was there to protect you and your precious bloodline."

"I swear I don't know who she was until now. Caleb died because of her -"

"Until now?" Amy interrupted.

"What?"

"Do you know who she is?" If Amy could hunt her down, maybe there was hope...

Henry turned away. "Her name... Daena... it sounded familiar. I looked it up. She's a Zoroastrian psychopomp. First mentioned in accounts from Persia in the eighth century BCE..."

Amy's head reeled. The woman had not seemed a day over twenty. What ghastly Pandora's box had she opened?

Henry was still lecturing in his professor-like voice. Amy shared certain geeky tendencies with him, a thirst for knowledge chief among them. "... Her face appears beautiful to the good, and hideous to the wicked. I don't know how or why she was here but Virgil mentioned something about her being cast out."

"I think I'm going to be sick," Amy moaned, holding onto a tree for support. Caleb had been terrified of Daena's face. That's not even my worst...

"It takes a while to get used to," said Henry. "Imagine finding out your grandmother was quite literally a thousand years old."

Amy groaned, still trying to wrap her head around this new reality. Beings associated with death occurred across all cultures, societies, and civilizations. Angels, demons, ghosts, ferrymen, beasts, and phantoms... What had been chalked up as a very human fear of mortality was in fact, true. Did all entities from myths and legends also exist?

"Woah, wait a minute," Amy said, holding up her palm. "V - is he the Virgil from -"

"Dante's Inferno? Yes, the very same."

Amy threw up.

Henry offered her a handkerchief but did not hesitate to take full advantage of Amy's disarmament. "You have to believe me; I didn't know Daena was going to show up and ruin Virgil's plans. It was a total shock for me too. Caleb had almost gotten away..."

The mention of his name brought Amy's world back into clear focus. The gears shifted, and another, crazier-than-ever plan began taking shape in the corners of her brain. "Henry... am I a psycho - a psychopomp?"

The cheeky, curly-haired Henry she knew appeared briefly out of the misery and pain of their interaction. "Yes, and no."

Amy pinched his arm.

"Ow! Okay, you are not a psychopomp. You need to kill an errant soul to become one. Besides, you could only see Caleb so I don't think it'll even work. Have you ever seen another lost dead person?"

Amy thought about it. There had never been instances like the ones Henry described in her life. But that still didn't explain the most primary of her conundrums. "Why could I see him though? Of all the people possible?"

"I don't know for sure," answered Henry. "Virgil was deeply afraid that the world was on the edge of a change so profound that it messed with the known laws of life and death itself - and it was all because a psychopomp decided to play god with immortality. That's how Xenophiles created Anaxan - with the help of a rogue angel of death."

"Do you know who it was?"

"No. Virgil refused to say his true name; because defying direct orders meant punishment beyond death. He called the psychopomp 'Prometheus' instead."

Like an elephant bothered by flies, Amy shook her head. "Ingenious. That still doesn't fully explain why I could see Caleb..."

Henry's voice rang through the gaps between the trees. "Would it have changed anything?"

It was too much to process. There were two very different answers that clashed inside Amy's mind - one logical and the other totally bizarre. Of course, if she had never seen Caleb the spectre, her life would be utterly different right now! But no matter what, in the end, Amy went with her heart's irrationality: "No, it wouldn't have. Somehow, I think I was meant to help Caleb. ... Does that make me crazy?" She chuckled.

Henry held her shoulder. "I think it makes you brave... and a little crazy."

Amy punched his stomach.

"Ouch! Careful, woman! Still recovering here," said Henry, doubling over.

They laughed and embraced. Henry was a head taller than Amy and his hugs always felt nice in a big brotherly way. As they walked back to the lake arm in arm, dusk was settling in. The sky wasn't the same fiery orange Amy loved the most but still very beautiful in its pale, wispy motley of yuletide colors. A formation of winter birds rose through the thicket.

After a brief internal struggle, Amy asked Henry the question that had bothered her since Daena had plunged her dagger into Caleb's heart, "With every impossible thing you've told me... do you think there's a chance that Caleb's still... around?"

It was Henry's turn to wrestle with the possibilities. "Look... I don't want to give you false hope -"

"There you are!" Gemma called out. Swimming in Henry's baggy hoodie and scrambling toward them from the jetty, she looked like an excited court eunuch hunching after the emperor. "I thought Amy had left you in a bear trap or something."

"I tried," Amy said.

Henry kissed the top of Gemma's head. "Only two people in history have managed to bring someone back from the realm of the psychopomps. And they have roughly four millennia between them."

All Amy heard was that there was a way. "Who?"

"A woman from one of the Hindu epics who fought for her husband's soul and... Nik Seager from Boston who resurrected his girlfriend six months ago."

Gemma sucked in a breath. "And they say romance is dead."

Amy faced the empty pier. Seeing her friends happy and in love only exacerbated the pain in her soul. A long and difficult road lay ahead of her, one taken before by extraordinary people under extraordinary circumstances. There was nothing remotely special about her.

Amy suddenly remembered what she had promised Caleb and her determination solidified. Whether you like it or not, you and I are in this together now.

"I will be the third," declared Amy.

"What?" Gemma said.

"I am going to be the third person to bring someone back from the dead. Do you know how to do it, Henry?"

"Um... no!" Henry gasped. "Amy... I want you to think about this, okay? These creatures are not human. They don't think like us, feel like us!" His voice broke down. "It's too dangerous."

"Take me to Nik Seager then. You owe me that," said Amy.

As she looked at the old fire tower in the distance, Amy's heart had never been surer about anything. It was insane. No reasonable bone in her body condoned her words. Why was she thinking of risking it all for someone who was so far away from her that the universe had already turned on its axis over and over and over again but still... she couldn't just let go?

What her heart bore was more potent than love, wilder than hope, and smoother than a storm. It was a resolve so bright it blinded the gods and when Amy spoke, it was a declaration of war. "I will bring Caleb back. Even if I have to fight every damn immortal who stands in my way."

And thus, with a small voice in an insignificant town in northern Georgia where everybody knew everybody, the end of the world began.

✧

A/N: It may be the end of the world but it isn't the end of Near Touch! I know I said that this was the final installment but for the Wattpad edition of the book, I've decided to put up a bonus chapter! For each and every one of you who have rooted for Caleb and Amy, I couldn't end on a note without them.

The bonus chapter is placed after Caleb's funeral and before the events that transpired in the gym with the psychopomps. I think its title will make you smile.

I would love for you to leave a review but I think I'll put up a distinct section for that along with the many acknowledgments I have at the very end. Please wait for that 🙏🏻!