Kendare Blake - Anna Dressed in Blood

Mom and Thomas come to visit in a steady rotation, and they wheel Carmel in once a day so we can watch Jeopardy! Nobody wants to say that they’re relieved it wasn’t worse, or that we all came out lucky, but I know that’s what they’re thinking. They think that it could have been a lot worse. Maybe so, but I don’t want to hear it. And if it’s true, then they have only one person to thank for it.

Anna kept us alive. She dragged herself and the Obeahman into God only knows where. I keep thinking of things I could have done differently. I try to remember if there was another way it could have gone. But I don’t try too hard, because she sacrificed herself, my beautiful, stupid girl, and I don’t want that to have been for nothing.

There’s a knock at my door. I look over and see Thomas standing in the doorway. I press the button on my Posturepedic to sit up and greet him.

“Hey,” he says, pulling up a chair. “Aren’t you going to eat your Jell-O?”

“I effing hate green Jell-O,” I reply, and push it his way.

“I hate it too. I was just asking.”

I laugh. “Don’t make me hurt my ribs, you dick.” He smiles. I really am glad that he’s all right. Then he clears his throat.

“We’re sorry about her, you know,” he says. “Carmel and I. We kind of liked her, even if she was creepy, and we know that you—” He breaks off and clears his throat again.

I loved her. That’s what he was going to say. That’s what everyone else knew before I did.

“The house was, like, insane,” he says. “Like something out of Poltergeist . Not the first one. The one with the scary old guy.” He keeps on clearing his throat. “Morfran and I went back, after, to see if anything was still there. But there was nothing. Not even her leftover spirits.”

I swallow. I should be glad that they’re free. But that means she’s really gone. The unfairness of it almost chokes me for a second. I finally find a girl I could really be with, maybe the only girl in the world, and I had what? Two months with her? It’s not enough. After everything she went through — everything I went through — we deserve more than that.

Or maybe we don’t. Anyway, life doesn’t work like that. It doesn’t care about fair or unfair. Still, sitting in this hospital bed has given me plenty of time to think. Lately I’ve been thinking about a lot of things. Mostly about doors. Because that’s essentially what Anna did. She opened a door, from here to someplace else. And doors can be made to swing both ways, in my experience.

“What’s so funny?”

I look at Thomas, startled. I realize I’ve started to grin. “Just life,” I say with a shrug. “And death.”

Thomas sighs and tries to smile. “So, I guess you’ll be transferring out soon. Off to do what it is you do. Your mom said something about a Wendigo.”

I chuckle, then wince. Thomas joins in halfheartedly. He’s doing his best not to make me feel guilty for leaving, to make it seem like he doesn’t care one way or the other if I go.

“Where—” he starts, and looks at me carefully, trying to be delicate. “Where do you think she went?”

I look at my friend Thomas, at his sincere, earnest face. “I don’t know,” I say softly. There must be a devilish glint in my eye. “Maybe you and Carmel can help me figure it out.”

It takes a lot to get a story into the world. To thank everyone involved could fill another book. So I’ll limit myself. Much of the credit goes to my agent, Adriann Ranta, and to my editor, Melissa Frain. You have both made Anna Dressed in Blood stronger. No book could ask for better champions. Thanks are also due to Bill and Mary Jarrett, the proprietors of the Country Cozy Bed and Breakfast in Thunder Bay, Ontario, for their hospitality and local knowledge. As usual, thanks to the street team, Susan Murray, Missy Goldsmith, and my brother, Ryan Vander Venter. Thanks to Tybalt, for being a good sport, and to Dylan, for luck.

And of course, thank you to the readers, of all types, everywhere. We need more of you.