Early to Death, Early to Rise - Kim Harrison [15]
“What will you lose by trying?” Nakita coaxed. “Barnabas should know what happened. For all his insufferable know-it-all attitude, he’s part of our…team.”
She had said that last word like it tasted bad, and a slight smile brightened my mood. She was trying. “Okay,” I said agreeably, “but if I can’t reach him, we’ll find him by air.”
She nodded, and I felt a quiver of anticipation. It would be great if I could do this. My amulet was the same deep, glittery black that it had been since I claimed it, but Barnabas’s had shifted down the spectrum. Nakita was right: It just might be possible.
Excited, I turned to the tall cornfields, then the empty road—listening to the sound of the wind. Either nothing would happen, or I’d make it work. It wasn’t as if I didn’t know the theory inside and out after countless nights on my roof trying. Stopping, I sat right down on the edge of the road, shifting until the pebbles didn’t grind into my ankles.
Nakita understandably stared at me.
“I’m not good at it,” I explained, embarrassed. “I need to sit down.” Closing my eyes, I took three slow breaths—my way of inducing a feeling of calm. My shoulders eased, and I exhaled.
In my mind’s eye, I tried to imagine my aura. It wasn’t really my aura, since I was dead, but the amulet’s resonance acted the same way. Because I had the dark timekeeper amulet, my aura or resonance was a violet so dark as to be off the visible spectrum and basically black. Eyes shut, I reached up to hold the glittery black stone cradled in a silver wire and looped around my neck with a simple cord. As long as I had it within twenty feet of me, I had the illusion of a body. If I got too far from it, black wings would sense me and swarm to eat my soul—twenty measly feet between me and utter death. It looked a lot like a reaper amulet, but it was more powerful and yet—as Nakita had said—more flexible. Claiming it from my predecessor hadn’t blown my soul to dust like my trying to claim a reaper’s amulet would have. Most people didn’t even see it unless I pointed it out. I could take it off, but I was reluctant to do so.
The silver wires cradling the stone were warm, but the stone was warmer, as if holding the heat of the sun. All I had to do, in theory, was imagine my thoughts taking on the same color or wavelength as my aura so it could slip free of me. Then I had to hold my thoughts as I shifted the color to match Barnabas’s aura so my thoughts could slip through his aura and he could hear it. His resonance was green now. It shouldn’t be as hard as trying to shift all the way up the spectrum. Maybe I could do it. Maybe.
I brought Barnabas to mind, his smile, his dark humor, his odd way of looking at the world, the age behind his brown eyes, and how they flashed silver when he touched the divine. Barnabas, I thought, shifting my thoughts as “violet” as I could to get them past my aura. Nakita and I are kind of stuck here on the road.
A thrill lit through me as I felt my thoughts wing out from me to bounce against the inside of the sphere of air that surrounded the earth. But then, my entire thought seemed to explode in a bright light. Shocked, I opened my eyes and blinked.
“I felt them leave you,” Nakita said, smiling. “But they scattered when they diffracted against the sun. You need to modify your thoughts to his aura before they bounce off the atmosphere, not after.”
She felt it, I thought, stifling a quiver of anticipation. Barnabas had never said that when we practiced. I shifted awkwardly on the pavement to disguise my shiver, thinking this would look stupid to anyone driving by. Not that we’d seen anyone on the road yet. This was the closest I’d ever gotten to making this work. Nakita had been able to teach me how to bend light around my amulet to hide it, too. Maybe Nakita, for all her awkward inabilities among people, was the better teacher. And wouldn’t Barnabas be happy about that?
“Let me try again,” I whispered, closing my eyes and calming my thoughts to get them past my aura resonance, and then thinking with a precise narrowness,