Cold Kiss

changes immediately. It’s not joy like it used to be, but at least he doesn’t look ready to strangle me, either.
    “Wren.”
    I swallow back my nerves and walk into the room as Gabriel shuts the door. I’m so not ready for this, not after what just happened with Mom, but it’s not like I have a choice. And I want to know what happened, how he woke up, how Gabriel has kept him calm.
    “You were gone,” Danny says when I’m within arm’s reach, and takes me by the shoulders to pull me against him.
    I’d almost forgotten how cold he is after the warm press of Gabriel’s mouth.
    “I came back,” I whisper against the chilly fabric of his T-shirt. It’s dirty now, smeared with dust and the broken remains of leaves, and I wonder exactly what happened during that long walk from the loft to his house and then to the park.
    “Wren, I was dead.” He’s whispering, too, as if Gabriel shouldn’t hear us, and I venture a glance at him, to make sure he’s still in the room.
    I don’t think anything’s ever hurt more than being afraid of Danny. I’m not sure anything ever will.
    “I know,” I say, and push away just enough to take his hand and lead him to the sofa. “I know.”
    He sits without protest, but he doesn’t let go of my hand, so I wind up beside him, nearly in his lap. He’s all bones, pale and hard, but his eyes are gleaming again, too dark.
    “I’m… I was dead, Wren. I remember.”
    “I know. I’m sorry.” I wince when his fingers tighten around my hand.
    “And now?” He leans closer, and I try not to shiver. “What am I now, Wren? What did you do ?”
    It sounds so much like Gabriel, the day he figured it out. But worse. So much worse. It’s like Danny knows what I did and he can’t make himself admit it.
    Can’t make himself believe that I would bring him back, or give him this awful shadow life.
    I lay my hand on his leg. “Danny, it’s going to be okay.” Wow, there’s the biggest lie I’ve ever told, and it sounds so weak, so ridiculous, even I wouldn’t believe it.
    “Wren, I remember,” he says again, still leaning close. “I … remembered before, but I didn’t know … all I wanted was you, before.”
    And now it’s not enough. It was never going to be enough, of course, and I don’t know why I couldn’t understand that when I chanted the words that would bring him back to me.
    To me, for me, only me. I was so selfish.
    It doesn’t seem possible, but I’m crying again, slow tears that roll down my cheeks and splash onto my shirt. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, because I don’t know what else to say.
    Gabriel speaks instead, and even Danny looks up at the sound of his voice.
    “But you love Wren, right, Danny? You love her more than anything?”
    It sounds cruel, throwing that back at him, but oddly it seems to satisfy Danny. He sits back a little, relaxing, and he nods. “I do. I do love you, Wren.”
    My voice is broken when I whisper, “I love you, too.”
    I want to say more, to reassure him somehow that I’ll fix this, but before I can think of anything that’s not a complete lie, Gabriel comes a little closer.
    “What did you tell me, about the first time you met? That you thought she was weird, but also weirdly pretty?”
    My head snaps up in alarm, but Danny is smiling now, and his gaze is focused on something far away.
    “She was,” he says absently. “She is. Like a little bird, because her hair was like feathers, and then she told me her name and I thought she was kidding.”
    I remember that, and suddenly the moment is so clear it’s like it happened only a second ago. I glance at Gabriel, but he’s concentrating on Danny, leaning forward to encourage him to tell more of the story. When he sees me looking, he adds, “Danny’s been telling me all about you. How you met and where, the things you used to do together. All the reasons he loves you.”
    And I get it then—he’s been focusing on Danny’s best memories, of me anyway, to keep him talking, to keep him calm. To keep him from remembering that he can’t go home, can’t see his mother or his friends, because he was supposed to be dead and buried months ago.
    It’s surreal, the two of them, light and dark, tall and taller, two boys who shouldn’t have anything to say to each other, sitting in the same room and talking about me. For a moment, I close my eyes and press my fingers into them, hard, until streaky light explodes behind my closed lids. My life cannot get any