Pulse

Chapter 4

Cian

"You know, I don't think she likes us much."

    Vinny gave me a sour look, rolling his eyes. "No dip," he said. "She obviously hates us."

    We were trekking down one of San Francisco's steep sidewalks, the daylight bright above us, the condensation from the boba tea in my hand turning my palm moist. Admittedly I was a bit warm. Why on earth I'd chosen to wear a hoodie today, I didn't know, but I was busy holding something, so I couldn't remove it at the moment. Guess I'd just have to sweat. "I wouldn't say she hates us," I corrected him, "she's just guarded."

    People had started to give me strange looks; though I was used to it by now, you know, having a dead brother and all, I still dug around in my pocket for my bluetooth and placed it in my ear. We turned right at the corner, just as Vinny said, "No, she hates us."

    I raised an eyebrow at him. "Vinny, how would you feel if you were her? Your brother just got in an accident, a kid you knew committed suicide, and now you can see ghosts all of a sudden. Who wouldn't be freaked out by that? We'll get her eventually."

    "Cian."

    Vinny's voice had changed. It had gone from his usual, whining small sibling tone to something more grave; for this reason I stopped walking, leaning back against the brick exterior of a building. Vinny hovered in front of me—it wasn't quite standing, I don't think—the sunlight almost making him shimmery. I stuck my milk tea straw in between my teeth so I didn't have to talk first.

    Vinny dropped his gaze. "Why do you care so much, anyway? It's not like you owe this girl anything, anything at all, so why are you even trying to help? Maybe we should just leave her alone."

    "Oh, shut up, Vince."

    "What?"

    "I said shut up. She's a threat. It's more than about her brother. It's about why she can see you."

    Vinny scoffed, crossing his arms. His eyes were narrow when he looked at me. "Let me get this straight," he began. "You don't really care about finding her brother, do you? You just want to get her to trust you. This is all some sort of sick investigation?"

    I averted my eyes, gnawing at my straw. "It's for her benefit."

    "That's pathetic, Cian. Taking advantage of her grief like that," Vinny remarked. He sighed, in a way that allowed to me to validate that he truly was disappointed in me. It hurt a bit more than I cared to admit; all I had wanted since Vinny's death was to make it up to him, and somehow I kept seeming to screw it up, every single time. How many more mistakes before I couldn't mess up anymore, before it was just over?

    I guess it was useless anyway. There was no way to make up for something like death. Once they were gone, they were gone. There was no backspace, no eraser, no reset button, not for something like this.

    "You really are a bastard," finished Vinny, and I just glowered, centering myself away from the wall and starting back down the street. I could feel Vinny following me, even if I wasn't looking at him. His presence was eerie in that way.

    I stopped in a dim alley to cast away my empty cup, then exhaled audibly, my back still to my brother. If he'd breathed any longer, I was positive I'd feel it on the back of my neck, but there was nothing, nothing but the darkness, the sun's flame doused like a candle, nothing but Vinny's words in my head: That's pathetic, Cian.

    "God—" I stopped, then pushed on, the hissing of imaginary fire in my mouth only angering me further. "Goddammit!"

    Vinny's voice had grown small. "C-Cian...?"