For a moment, Ling’s courage wavered. She looked to Henry. “Can’t we save her?”
“We are saving her,” he reminded her.
Wai-Mae glowed, a star brightening before death. Bright rays fractured her body, a violent birth, an inevitable collapse. And then there was an explosion of white light, shooting out across the dreamscape. Henry and Ling shielded each other and shut their eyes against its brilliance.
In the graveyard of Trinity Church, Memphis and Evie dug at the muddy earth to make a shallow grave. She swiped a filthy, wet arm across her equally sopping brow.
“Where are they?” she called over the rain.
“I’m sure they’ll be here any second,” Memphis answered, but he sounded nervous. “Best thing we can do is to keep digging.”
“I was afraid you’d say that,” Evie groused.
“Memphis!” Theta came tearing around the corner of New York’s oldest church with Sam right behind her.
Memphis leaped up and embraced her. “I was so worried about you.”
“We ran into a little trouble with a fella who wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Sam said.
“One of those things had you cornered?” Memphis said.
Theta nodded.
“How’d you get away?” Memphis reached for Theta’s hands and she cried out. Memphis saw the weeping flesh there. “Theta! How’d you get these burns?”
“I-I…”
“It was a steam pipe,” Sam said with a quick glance at Theta. “Let’s just get these bones into hallowed ground and give ’em a proper burial.”
Sam, Evie, and Memphis dug furiously until they’d managed a decent hole.
“Good enough, you think, Memphis?” Sam asked.
“I say it’s good enough,” Evie insisted.
“Then here goes nothing,” Sam said, rocking back on his heels and breathing heavily.
Memphis and Theta lowered Wai-Mae’s skull and remaining bones into the shallow grave, then Memphis packed the dirt over it with hands made cold by the wet and the chill in the air.
“I don’t know about Chinese rituals. But it seems as if we oughta say a prayer of some kind,” Memphis said.
“What kinda prayer do you say to get rid of a ghost?” Theta asked.
“I surely don’t know. But I expect a prayer of any kind is better than none.”
All of them bowed their heads except for Sam.
“Sam?” Evie nudged him with an elbow.
“Trust me: If God exists, he’ll know I’m faking it.”
Memphis kneeled in the mud. He placed one hand on the grave. “Be at peace, restless spirit,” he whispered. He felt the tiniest jolt, a fraction of connection, and then it was gone.
“Is that it? Did we do it?” Theta asked.
Sam shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I’m not the ghost expert. Is anything trying to kill us?”
Under the shadow of Trinity Church’s great gothic spire, they huddled together in the rain, listening for the hungry wraiths and hearing nothing but the drops and the sudden comfort of the city’s horns and irritable shouts and constant hum of noise.