She rolled her eyes, but I caught a glimpse of a smile before she looked away. Nice. In spite of everything, I still liked making her smile. It didn't happen all that often.
“Hey.” I sat up straighter behind the wheel, staring at a house down the street on the right. I nudged her shoulder. “That has to be it.” I pointed to the perfectly ordinary two-story red house, my heart beating a little faster.
“It doesn't look like the family home of a criminal mastermind,” Alona said. “Not nearly lair-y enough. And where is the moat?”
“Funny,” I said. But I knew I was right. An all-too familiar battered van sat in the driveway. “He's here.” I nodded toward the vehicle as we approached, and I slowed down.
“No,” Alona said sharply. “Don't stop.”
“What?”
“Do you actually pay attention to any of the movies you watch?” She gave me an exasperated look. “We don't want to spook him.”
“You would be the expert on that,” I muttered.
She stuck her tongue out at me. “Ha-ha. Keep going,” she said.
And much as I didn't like to admit it, she probably had a point. The subtle approach was definitely better with this guy.
I drove past the house, which was dark with no signs of life, and pulled to the curb about four houses down, where the street curved and would partially hide us from view.
“We still have to walk to the front door,” I said, unbuckling my seat belt, “unless you're planning some kind of ninja stealth attack.” I opened the door and got out.
She slid out after me, shaking her head. “Don't be ridiculous. We don't have to sneak up to the house. It was the car that would have attracted attention.” Alona stood and stretched her arms over her head, and I could have sworn I heard her joints pop. “Think about it. You notice when someone pulls into your driveway. But do you pay attention to people out walking around? No,” she answered for me. “Especially not here.” She nodded to the residents walking their dogs, chasing their kids, and watering their lawns.
She was right again. I raised my eyebrows at her in question.
“I spent years hiding my mom from people,” she said with a shrug. “The only ones who ever caught me by surprise were the neighbors when they walked over.”
Once again I felt a twinge of sympathy for her for the life she'd lived before. No wonder she was so concerned about the Turners. They'd actually been concerned about her in return. Well, what they knew of her.
I felt the last of my anger toward her evaporate. Yes, she'd lied about the light, but lying to protect herself was her primary defense mechanism. Should it have surprised me, then, that in a moment of fear and confusion she'd exaggerated to make sure things worked out to her benefit? And she was trying to change, trying to trust. That was huge for her.
She also maybe had a point in that it had been a little naive of me to assume that she'd been given specific instructions. Nothing about the afterlife, or at least my experience with it, worked quite that precisely. The only thing that seemed to have any definitive impact in the in-between place was action. Certain things a spirit did or said to get closure or resolution would bring the light. Being nasty would — eventually, depending on the spirit's strength — make you gone.
So… if the light hadn't wanted Alona to be Ally, perceiving it as a selfish move, maybe she would have disappeared already? She would have just depleted her energy and vanished, leaving Lily's body as it had been before.
Maybe.
Except Erin was currently holding that position, without, as far as I knew, any ill effects. And the light surely couldn't have intended for Erin to do what she did, right?
My head hurt just thinking about it. And somewhere in this whole debate, there had to be an element of that free-will thing, points for making the unselfish choice or something, but was it the selfish or unselfish choice for Alona to be Ally? I didn't know. I couldn't figure out how the system worked. And maybe that was the point. If you aren't sure how it works, it's a lot harder to game it. Okay, maybe. But it made me long for the days when I'd thought it operated as my dad had first told me. Simple. Exact. Which, in retrospect, struck me as the kind of explanation you gave a little kid when you weren't capable of or didn't want to give amore detailed and accurate answer. You know, thunder is just two clouds bumping into each other, and that sort of thing.
“Hello?” Alona waved a hand in front of my face. “What's the plan?”
I slammed my door and put aside the deep philosophical ponderings to consider her question, which was far more relevant to the moment.
If Edmund had actually been able to see ghosts, it might have been easier to send Alona ahead through the walls for the element of surprise. But since he couldn't, I wasn't sure that ringing the doorbell wouldn't be equally effective.
