Wren Noble is dead
she was born that way. Vibrant, unlike other dead things, she craves those rare moments when her twin sister allows her to step inside her body and experience the world of the living.
Lark Noble is alive
but often feels she belongs in the muted Shadow Landsthe realm of the dead. Known as the crazy girl who talks to her dead sister, she doesnt exactly fit in with the living, though a recent suicide attempt and time in a psych ward have proved to her shes not ready to join her sister in the afterlife.
Now the guy who saved
Larks life needs her to repay the favor. He and his friends have been marked for death by the malevolent spirit of a vicious and long-dead serial killer, and the twinswho should know better than to mess with the deadmay be their only hope of staying alive.
I stepped into my sister and took over her body for the time being. People called it possession, but I didnt like to use that term in regards to Lark. Thankfully, she was just asleep. I opened my eyesLarks eyes.
Mason looked down at me. He frowned. Youre not her, he whispered.
I managed a small smile, impressed that he could tell the difference between usmost people couldnt. You can let herme, go now. Thanks.
He dropped his arms like I was on fire. I stumbled, but managed to catch myself. Wearing Lark was fairly comfortable, but I wasnt used to having substance in this realm. Limbs were heavy, clumsy. I braced my hand against the roof of Nans car.
This was different from when Lark was awake and I shared her body. Despite the heavy limbs and awkwardness of them, they felt like mine. I was in control, not my sister, and itit was wonderful. And strange. So strange.
Praise for The Girl with the Iron Touch:
A well-calculated blend of paranormal romance and genuinely innovative story.
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Sisters of Blood and Spirit
Kady Cross
www.miraink.co.uk
This book is for Mom, who instilled in me
a love of things that go bump in the night. Thanks, and I miss you.
Its also for my sistersId fight a ghost for each of you!
And last, but not least, this book is for Steve, who supported me
from the very beginning. I couldnt do it without you.
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
Introduction
Praise
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Copyright
Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.
Dante
LARK
The scars on my wrists itched. I curled my fingers and tugged on my cuffs as I rubbed my arms against my jeans. Everyone stared at me as I walked down the hall. Maybe not everyone, but enough to make me lift my chin and straighten my shoulders. I glared back. Most of them looked away. Dont provoke the crazy girl. At Bell Hill, no one had looked at me.
Id thought my second day of high school would be easier than the first, but it was worse. Gossip had spread, and now everyone knew who I was and what Id done.
I scared themit was obvious. Even the ones who smirked at me or made remarks were afraid. They wanted to look tough to their friends. Hey, if making fun of me made them feel strong, then they obviously had their own problems.
Id known some of them for most of my life. New Devon wasnt a very big town, and at one time Id been a popular kid. In day care and elementary school everyone had wanted to play with me and my sister the ghost. I wish I could have seen my own face the first time someone told me I was too old to have an imaginary friend anymore.
Imaginary? The word echoed in my head. People applied terms like overly imaginative when I was still young. Eventually they began to say things like, dissociative, delusional and my personal favorite, troubled. No shit. There had never been a teenager in the history of the world that wasnt troubled by something. It was kind of our thing.
I walked past a small group of girls clustered in front of a section of lockers painted in the school colors of purple and gray. They drew back, as though I was contagious. They didnt say anythingdidnt even giggle. If theyd been mean I would have been more comfortable.
I didnt hang my head. I had nothing to be ashamed of. Maybe Id made a couple of bad choices, but they had been mine.
I wasnt crazy. I might be a freak, but I wasnt crazy, and I never had been. I had proof of that, and other people knew it, toonot many, but enough.
As luck would have it, my locker was just a few down from where the girls stood watching me warily. I stopped and opened it, placing my bag inside so I could take out what I needed for my first class.
Why are we here? my twin sister, Wren, asked. She stood by the locker next to mine, arms crossed over her chest. Her vivid red hair fell over her shoulders in a straight curtain that required absolutely no workno style she wanted ever did, because it was of her making. There werent any hair styling tools in the Shadow Lands.
I didnt respond. Talking out loud to someone no one else could see would make them all think they were right, that I was still crazy. I was supposed to be cured. That was the only way the school would take me back. Although, at that moment, I had to wonder as well what the hell I was doing there.
Oh, right. My parents didnt want me, so Id had no choice but to move in with my grandmother in my old hometown while Mom and Dad had a fresh and shiny new life in Massachusetts. My mother just couldnt deal with the fact that I could see and interact with Wren. Not because she thought I was lying, but because she was mad Wren didnt talk to her.
I wasnt cured. I wasnt crazy, either. But there was just no easy way to explain why Wren was there with meshed been dead since the day we were born. I came out breathing and she...didnt. I think someone made a mistake somewhere along the way, because my hair was stark white and hers was deep, vivid red. I should be the ghost, not her. Godif there was one who even caredknew I liked the dead a lot more than the living most days. Other than our hair and style, we were identical, to the point that if I dyed my hair her color even wed get confused over who was who.
For years my relationship with Wren was seen as cute if not sada little girl playing with her imaginary dead twin. As I got older, my knowing things about how people died because Wren told me made me look weird, guilty even. People would ask me to communicate with their dead relatives, but it was Wren who did all the legwork.
People called me a liar. Called me crazy. Called me a freak. Eventually, I began to believe them. That was when I got desperate and made the scars on my wrists.
I closed my locker and walked down the hall, pushing my way through the crowd of teeming hormones. People stared. Some said things. I ignored them, staring straight ahead. I just wanted to get this day over with. These people didnt matter; I knew who and what I was.
I just didnt know why.
I suppose you have to ignore me while youre here, dont you? My sister sighedrather dramatically I thought. She knew the drill. The time Id spent locked up made her a little...needy. Other than me she didnt have anyone to talk to except an old woman who stuck around to watch over her family and a crazy man from the 1700s who liked to haunt his old house just for the hell of it. Although, I think shed have more friends if she wasnt with me all the time. Unfortunately, the few other nice ghosts wed had contact with had moved on once we did what they asked of us, and hanging out with the scary ones wasnt an option.
Mmm. It was the only response I could make without anyone noticing.
Fine. Im going to the library. Ill find you later. With that, she walked through a wall and was gone. I hated when she did thatmostly because I couldnt.
I followed the swarm, rounding a corner toward what would be my homeroom for the rest of this year. A small group of kids were gathered against the wall just a few feet away. A few guysmostly girls. Seniors. I could tell just by looking at themthey had that faint smug superiority of knowing they had to make it only until June and then they were free, done with the insane asylum that was high school. I might have sneered at them as I walked by if one of the guys hadnt raised his head and looked right at me.
I froze. It was just a second, but I froze like he was a speeding car and I was a raccoon out for an evening stroll on the center line. Mason Ryan was even more gorgeous than he had been the last time Id seen him, a fact for which I resolved then and there to despise him. Gold-streaked brown hair, hazel eyesand lips no guy deserved to have. Black button-down and jeans. He was one of those guys who was so beautiful it hurt to look at him.
But it hurt for other reasons. I needed to avoid him if I couldand not just because his father was chief of police. Mace and I had a secret. Well, not really a secret. A few people in town knew that he had been the one to find me bleeding out on the floor, but knowing and understanding were two different things. Nobody but he and I knew exactly what wed shared, and it would always be there, lingering between us like a breath.
One of the girls with him turned to look at me, as well. She had a nasty-looking scratch on the side of her face that kept her from being model-gorgeous. I barely glanced at her; my attention was solely on Mace. The sight of him made me want to puke, tied my gut up in knots and shoved bile into the back of my throat.
Funny how much sick tasted like shame.
Mace didnt look as though he felt much better. I didnt want to think of the state Id been in that day when hed held me in his arms and begged me not to die on him because hed have to live with that. He straightened away from the wall hed been leaning against, and took a step forwardtoward me. Ohhh, no. Not today. Not ever, if I could help it.
I broke into a sprint, straight into the classroom where I found a seat at the back of the room and dropped into it, trying to keep my heart in my chest. A few heads turned to look at me. Whispers and coy glances exchanged. Let them talk. I didnt care. My heart hammered and my stomach twitched, but I was safe for the time being. As safe as I could be in a small Connecticut town where everyone knew practically everyone else, and even if they didnt they still talked about them.
Lark?
Now what? I looked up, turned my head. Sitting right across from me was a familiar facetanned skin, dark eyes and even darker hair. She smiled at me. I almost smiled back. Almost. Rox.
Roxi Taylor was a month or two younger than me and was always very friendlylike crazy-ass friendly. It would be easy to dismiss her as fake, but she really was just a good, sweet person.
I didnt get it.
People like me, who could see things other people couldnt, didnt get to be ignorant of human nature for longnot when people either wanted to use you or hurt you. Id tried to hate Roxi for years, but it just wouldnt take, and that part of me that distrusted everyone wanted very badly to distrust her, but could never quite manage it, even though I was sure that no one could be that nice all the time. But Roxi had never asked me for anythingever. Never made me feel like there was something wrong with me. I always wondered what was wrong with her that she wanted to be my friend.
She grinnedshed gotten her braces off since the last time Id seen herand threw her arms around me. Its so good to see you!
Shit. I did not want this attention, but it would be a lie if I said it wasnt nice to find someone who was happy to see me, that part of me didnt want to hug her back. It didnt matter that a little voice inside screamed for me not to trust her. I let myself have that moment.
Dykes, someone muttered.
A few laughs followed. Then someone else said, Dont, man. Shes like, the angel of death or something.
I pulled away from Roxi and turned to face our audience. What annoyed me more than the smirks were the few expressions of genuine fear. I mean, sometimes being thought of as scary was a good thing, but having people be scared of you was different, especially when I hadnt given them any reason to be afraid.