The Aftermath

I was determined nothing in the world could bring me out from my hiding place behind the pillar. I was determined until I heard the old ghost's voice.

“Oh my, oh my!” his shrill voice rang out.

I poked my head out from behind the pillar to watch him kneel next to my brother. I was only seconds away from telling the ghost to get the hell away from him, before the priest sidetracked me by talking to Gerard again.

I could not fathom why. The living could not hear him. Gerard could not hear him.

If I had not been dead already, I would probably have had a heart attack when I heard my brother answer the ghost's question.

I was rooted to the spot, watching my brother interact with the dead spirit in front of him, seeing him and hearing him as clearly as had he really been there. I was willing to bet my afterlife on the fact that Gerard did not realise he was talking to a dead spirit.

Transfixed, I watched in pure awe the short time the conversation lasted. But only until the words got to me. And then, less than a millisecond after, the sensation.

I could feel my brother's heart. I could feel it slowing down.

As the ghost hovered his hand over my brother's eyes, I was already on my feet, running.

“Gerard!” I screamed, getting no reaction from my brother, but making the ghost look up startled.

“Get away from him,” I hissed piercingly at the ghost, “Leave him alone!”

I put so much force into those three words that the church was momentarily bathed in light. As the glow faded, the construction groaned threateningly the priest's ghost long gone. I did not care for either, though, flinging myself down on top of my brother.

His breath was shallow, but his heart was still beating. His skin felt icily cold against mine.

“Don't die, Gerard. Don't die, don't die, don't die,” I chanted.

I pressed my body to his, folding my wings over him and holding him tight. Two things happened in time with the repetition of my chorus. My glow returned strongly again. Gerard's skin started feeling less cold against mine.

“Thank God,” I whispered, brushing the hair away from my brother's forehead only to catch my breath.

It did not feel wet to me anymore. Neither did my clothes. Neither did Gerard.

I tried feeling his skin again, tried to tell if he was cold, but I felt nothing. Gasping, I pushed myself into him again, wrapping him tightly in my wings. I stayed with him, lying as closely wrapped around his still form as I could while sobs tore through my body.