Alyson Noël - Shimmer

And that’s when I turned. That’s when I spun on my heel, looked him straight in the eye, and said, “As it just so happens, that’s exactly what I’m doing right now.”

He looked at me, his expression a little muddled, chaotic—a result of that hectic word deluge he’d spewed forth.

“I’m exercising my free will. And though I may not be as well versed in the rule book as you, Oh Mighty Guide of Mine, I’m pretty dang sure you lack the authority to keep me from realizing my destiny.”

Then, without waiting for a response, I was gone. Feet pushing hard into the sand, intent on keeping my progress steady and sure, choosing walking over flying since, in my experience anyway, flying in the fog isn’t nearly as much fun as it might seem at first. The poor visibility makes for a pretty blah view.

Bodhi’s voice continuing to haunt me as he hurled words like stubborn, obstinate, headstrong, overly willful, misguided, irrational, impulsive —none of them the least bit flattering, but all of them piercing through the fog and trailing right behind me nonetheless.

And just like before, they bore no lasting effect.

To me, it was just a bunch of bippidy blah blah.

I mean, maybe what he said was true.

Maybe it wasn’t.

It was of no particular interest to me either way.

Because despite what Bodhi claimed about the rules, and the Council, and my own very long list of extremely flawed character traits, there was one thing I knew for absolute sure:

There were no accidents, coincidences, or random events.

The universe just didn’t operate like that.

I’d seen that dog for a reason.

And I was determined to get to the bottom of it.

Although I couldn’t say for sure how far I had walked—due to the intensity of the mist I could neither see behind me nor in front of me—I did know that I’d walked far enough for Bodhi’s voice to completely fade into nothing.

Walked for so long I could no longer hear Buttercup’s panting breath or excited barks.

Aside from the constant lull and sway of the sea lapping the shoreline, and the familiar, almost-plaintive cry of the seagulls soaring overhead, I couldn’t hear much of anything.

Couldn’t see anything.

Couldn’t hear anything.

Which probably explains why I was so surprised when I stumbled upon it.

And I do mean stumbled .

I’d been so intent on merging my energy with the sand, the sea, the sky, and all the rest of my surroundings, so focused on merging my vibration with that of the physical world, that one moment I was just strolling along, more or less minding my own business, and the next I’d toppled right over, headfirst.

Yep, even in my ghostly form I could still get tripped up.

Even though it probably seems as though I should’ve just slipped right through it, the thing is, in the end, it all came down to energy. In order to make contact with something more solid, in order to experience the earth plane in the same way I used to, I had to draw upon its energy. And my being so focused on drawing upon the energy of just about everything around me … well, let’s just say that’s pretty much what did me in.

I screwed up my face, pushed my long blond bangs out of my eyes, and glared at the offending piece just before me.

Expecting to find some kind of jagged, water-carved beach rock, only to see that it wasn’t a rock at all—or at least not the kind I’d assumed.

Somewhere along the way, the beach had managed to transition from a misty shroud of white sand and turquoise waters into a desolate, seemingly forgotten, fog-free, patchy-grass graveyard without my even noticing.

A seriously decrepit, seriously old graveyard.

The kind with crumbling tombstones, sunken graves, and creepy-looking trees with cruel, leafless branches that hovered in such a way they looked as though they’d pluck you right off the ground and into their clutches.

The kind of graveyard you see in scary movies.

Only this was no movie, this was the real thing.

I squinted at the tombstone that’d tripped me, searching for a name, a date, something that might mean something to me or provide a clue of some kind. It was so old and crumbly, all I could make out was the vague outline of what might’ve been an angel’s wing, but could’ve just as easily been something else entirely, along with a partial name and date that’d been etched away by the cruel hand of time.

I looked all around, seeing there were more—lots and lots of them. Some similar, some not, some with elaborate markings and angels and crosses and things, some not much more than a sad little stump.

And just as I remembered what Bodhi had said about the Phantom Dog’s penchant for guarding graves and tombs and such, I saw it.

Not the dog.

Not—well, not anything substantial enough for me to really put a label on.

Let’s just say it was more of a shimmer.

A soft, pink-gold shimmer.

And I watched, mesmerized, pretty much spellbound really, as it twirled and danced and flitted and jumped. Bouncing lightly from the head of each grave, gracefully leaping from tree to tree, until it finally landed before me. Hovering in place as I scrambled to my feet and watched in amazement as that glowing ball of energy slowly stretched, and curved, and transformed itself into a pair of eyes, a nose, a mouth, and teeth—

Transformed itself into— me !

It was all there.

All of my features present and accounted for.

Lanky blond hair: Check.

Bright blue eyes: Yep.

Semi-stubby nose: Roger that.

Completely flat chest: Um, unfortunately, yes.

Fussy, overly frilly dress, with way too many sparkles and bows: Wha — ?

I was speechless.

Really and truly speechless.

My eyes darting all around, searching for Bodhi and Buttercup, wondering if they were somehow behind it, determined to freak me out, creep me out, and teach me a lesson about making up my own assignments.

But when I turned back to her, er, me, er, it, I started to get really annoyed by the dress. I mean, seriously, one frivolous accent would’ve been more than enough, but to add frills and lace and ruffles and bows and buttons that actually sparkled and shone, well, it clearly amounted to complete and total overkill.

Besides, anyone who knew me knew I wouldn’t be caught dead (literally!) wearing a dress like that. So that meant either Bodhi was seriously determined to get back at me for ignoring his rules, or someone else, someone who obviously didn’t know me at all, had made the mistake of seriously underestimating me.

“Sorry.” She smiled, instantly transforming my features into ones that belonged to someone else, someone who was totally unrecognizable to me.

The hair became brown and curled instead of blond and limp, the eyes a deep hazel instead of bright blue, the nose long and elegant as opposed to, well, the way mine was built, and a chest that bloomed into something a little more substantial than the pathetically flat version I was stuck with.

A chest that bloomed in a way mine never would.

But for some strange reason, she chose to keep the dress, which, had it been me, would’ve been the very first thing I would’ve ditched.

“It’s always good for a scare though. Which I guess is why it’s just too good to resist.” She laughed in a way that lit up her face, the sound of it light and melodic and, well, tinkly even. Though her gaze stayed the same, heavy and observing. “It’s naughty of me, I know, but sometimes…” She gazed all around, and I mean all around. Her head spinning in quick circles, her neck creasing and twisting in the most grotesque way as she wrapped her slim arms tightly around her impossibly tiny waist. “Well, sometimes I just can’t help myself.” She looked at me again, her head having rotated all the way back until it snapped into place. “But, seeing as you’re dead like me, I’ll play fair. I’ll stop with the games. Oh, and please excuse my lack of manners. My name’s Rebecca, by the way.” She smiled and dipped deep down into what I immediately recognized as some old-school, ladylike curtsy. Bowing her head before me, and revealing an array of even more ribbons and bows that meandered their way down her back.