Whispers of the Dead

I

If Amethyst Howard would tell anyone that she thought graveyards at night are peaceful, they would think she was crazy. And if she told them that the ghosts they didn't even believe exist were the most peaceful thing of it all, they would lock her up in a mental asylum. The clock struck midnight when she squinted up at the highest point of the closed gates and sighed.

She could probably just steal a key, or something, but she couldn't risk the sound of the scraping iron. People lived there, after all. So she placed a black boot on the lowest horizontal bar of the fence and hauled herself up. Her backpack bounced against her shoulders while she climbed the gates. The iron was slippery on certain places where the black paint was peeling off and the metal was exposed to the rain.

Amethyst spat out a wet lock of hair that had ended up in her mouth and gripped the top of the fence. Careful not to hurt herself on the iron spikes, she swung a leg over the topside of the railing and looked down. It was too high to jump, despite the thick layer of autumn leaves on the ground. She had tried once, during winter, when there was snow, and had broken her leg.

She'd needed to hide until the gates opened in the morning and then call Hope to pick her up. It had been hell. She could have called an ambulance, but then she would have also been caught and would have risked being punished, or worse, banned from this place. No, she would never jump again. As she did every week, she scanned the trees just inside the gate, looking for a branch she could use to swing down, but found none. As always. Maybe, in a few years, the one closest to the gates would be big enough to use, but now, she would only break her leg again. She gripped the uppermost bar of the fence and put her left leg next to the right one on the other side. At least, she tried to. When her thigh touched the nearest spike, her tights caught on the point and got stuck. She cursed under her breath when she almost lost her balance.

"Are you okay?" a soft voice, coming from underneath her, said.

"I'm... coming..." Amethyst groaned, and ripped the nylon free of the spike. Safely on the ground, she inspected her leg. There was a big hole in her tights, starting from the bottom of her shorts and stretching out to the back of her knees.

"Note to self: never wear tights again while climbing over fences," she muttered.

"You made that note a month ago. And then the month before," the voice sounded again. Amethyst righted herself and glared at the boy leaning against the gates.

"Well, you can't expect me to have bare legs in this weather."

The boy rolled his eyes and shook his head, causing his half-long curls to whip against his jaw.

"You're impossible."

Amethyst smiled at him.

"You shouldn't be that far from your source, Sam."

Samuel shrugged.

"What's the worst thing that could happen?"

"Let's not find out."

Amethyst gripped the shoulder straps of her backpack and started walking down the stone path. She knew Samuel was following her, even though his footsteps didn't make any sound on the leaves.

"You're not going to say happy birthday?" he called after a few minutes.

"Last time I did, you became all sad and stuff." Amethyst looked back over her shoulder, and Sam picked up his pace to walk beside her. He shrugged again.

"Yeah, I guess. But it's nice to have someone who thinks of it. You did, huh?"

He was slouching, his nice blue eyes focused on the ground before his feet. Amethyst smiled softly.