It wasn’t supposed to be this way, that much I knew-- not on many different levels. First off, spirits weren’t supposed to exist. And second, you weren’t supposed to leave your kid sister at their mercy -- “official” teenager or not -- to run away with your tail between your legs.

“They’re coming.” Her voice was raised over the growing noise in the house. Ava turned and looked up at me, and I saw with a flash of horror that the shadows that had been growing beneath her skin had become clearer. There was an unnatural wind blowing, even inside, and I could have sworn that the shadows’ swirling matched its rhythm. Crash. Fear fell suddenly like a wave on me.

“You have to go now.”

"No. I’m staying here with you." That’s what I was supposed to say, so I said it. But it was at least the tenth time we’d been through this. The wind was getting stronger, tearing the drapes and toppling the furniture, and my protests were getting weaker. Still, she was only thirteen. I was a full three years older, and supposed to be looking out for her while our parents were away.

“No, you’re not.” She said to me with amazing calmness. “I told you, I can talk to them. I can work this out.” She paused, and her silence was full and loud even in the maelstrom. With what, I didn’t know. She put one of those fragile, shadowy hands on my arm, shoved gently.

“It’s my gift, North. Now go.” But I couldn’t. Not yet. I hated the monsters -- spirits, whatever -- that had wrecked our lives more than I ever remembered hating anything before. I was angry and confused and I would have gotten one of those bastards good in the face if I could have. But I couldn’t, and I’ll admit it, I was scared. No, not scared. Terrified. A wooden figurine flew off the mantle and sliced across my temple. Without looking, I knew it had cut deep enough to scar.

Another crash of fear, but I was holding on like a dock in a storm. And Ava, however unfair to her, was shore. I looked at her then, and I couldn’t have told you what plea was on my face, but I didn’t really care. Maybe to tell me to stay. Maybe to forgive me for going. But she just looked back at me, tiny and bold, with her blond hair flying around her shoulders and a steeliness in her face that didn’t belong on someone who still had braces on their teeth.

“Go!” She pushed my shoulder, and I broke. Fear won, and swept me out to sea. I stumbled for the door. Just as I stepped out though, I turned back.

“Ava--” But she had already closed and locked to door. A rumble shook the whole house. A drop of blood leaked into my left eye. I started to run. Behind me, the house groaned and I heard Ava’s indistinct shouts. Bargains. And then the house collapsed around her, on her. But I didn’t stop. Somehow I knew that even if I went back I wouldn’t find her. Ava was gone.
Gone. The word forced a hole through me like a fist. And then, another sentence.

It’s my gift, North. It was her gift that had gotten her killed. I was sure of that.  And I owed it to her to find out why. Crash. Someone’s voice in my head, something I’d read somewhere; Pain is just a message.

Well then, so is fear. I kept running.