Of Smoke and Dust 🖋

Chapter Fifteen: the return, the funeral, and the voices in our heads

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Present

June 5th 2021

9:20 AM

The next day, Maia is free of school once more - this time not because she fell apart and hid herself away, an itty-bitty girl who couldn't cope, who wasn't strong enough, but because it is a Saturday.

This doesn't make it any better.

Today should be a day for planning Leonie's revenge. A day for apologizing over and over and over again, until Leonie listens, until she forgives her-

But.

Leonie isn't listening.

And she is on a warpath.

Leonie is raging through the room, even if nobody but Maia can see it. The trinkets on her desk are shaking. There's breeze that seems to come from nowhere. A single picture frame - coincidentally, the picture itself Jules and Maia, arms around each other and beaming smiles on their faces - has been knocked askew.

And then there's Leonie herself, tearing from wall to wall and back again, as if to pound out all of the angry energy she seems to have stored inside her. Maia is curled up near the pillows of her bed, watching with wary, frightened eyes and wishing that Leonie would just stop, because Leonie is supposed to be strong, supposed to be unflappable, and so if she's like this now -

Maia's scared. She shouldn't be, but she is.

(Leonie is all flames and sharp things and edges on which to cut yourself, but she's never lost control like this. Not ever.

And it terrifies Maia)

They can't! Leonie is screaming, voice echoing through Maia's mind and making her head pound. They can't, they shouldn't, how dare they -

"What?" Maia asks her, hoping to sound calm and mortified when the single word shakes. The hair on the back of her neck is standing on end.

(terror and flames and pleasepleaseplease)

The fury on Leonie's face when she finally whips around once more fills Maia with trepidation, a feeling only emphasized when Leonie speaks. They're killing me all over again. Each word is biting and cruel and laced with venom, and even though Maia knows Leonie's ire isn't directed at her (she hopes) it still takes her breath away. They're stealing what is mine.

"Are you leaving?" Maia demands, mouth dropping open in horror, because Leonie can't leave, not now that she's just come back.

Leonie scoffs. Silly Maia. No, I'm not leaving.

Maia's jaw shuts all on its own, and her cheeks flush. How was she so stupid as to forget Leonie's first rule? She'd said it all the way back in fifth grade, when her influence had still been growing.

You're not stupid. Don't act like it.

"I'm sorry." Maia says, appropriately abashed.

What for? You're just being silly, Maia. There is nothing wrong with that.

Maia's cheeks are still red, but that doesn't stop her curiosity. Because if Leonie isn't leaving, then what can anyone still steal from her? She is (dead), after all.

She voices the question aloud, and instantly regrets it when the lone lightbulb flickers dangerously, causing Leonie's ghostly figure to half-fade into the shadows at some points and glow almost eerily at others. In those moments, Leonie terrifies her. Dark eyes. Translucent skin. She is more other to Maia than she's ever been before.