Alexandra Adornetto - Lament

From the New York Times bestselling author of the Halo trilogy comes a beautiful and powerful new novel.

Alex is more real than anyone Ive ever known. And him being dead...really doesnt change a thing.

After the loss of her mother, Chloe Kennedy again starts seeing the ghosts that haunted her as a child. Spending time at her grandmothers country estate in England is Chloes chance to get away from her grief and the spirits that trouble her. Until she meets a mysterious stranger...

Alexander Reade is 157 years dead, with secrets darker than the lake surrounding Grange Hall and a lifelike presence that draws Chloe more strongly than any ghost before. But the bond between them awakens the vengeful spirit of Alexanders past love, Isobel. And she will stop at nothing to destroy anyone who threatens to take him from her.

To stop Isobel, Chloe must push her developing abilities to their most dangerous limits, even if it means losing Alex forever...and giving the hungry dead a chance to claim her for their own.

For the ghosts of my childhood.
Without you, I might have grown up normal.

Contents

THE UNQUIET GRAVE

The wind doth blow today, my love,

And a few small drops of rain;

I never had but one true-love,

In cold grave she was lain.

Ill do as much for my true-love

As any young man may;

Ill sit and mourn all at her grave

For a twelvemonth and a day.

The twelvemonth and a day being up,

The dead began to speak:

Oh who sits weeping on my grave,

And will not let me sleep?

Tis I, my love, sits on your grave,

And will not let you sleep;

For I crave one kiss of your clay-cold lips,

And that is all I seek.

You crave one kiss of my clay-cold lips,

But my breath smells earthy strong;

If you have one kiss of my clay-cold lips,

Your time will not be long.

Tis down in yonder garden green,

Love, where we used to walk,

The finest flower that ere was seen

Is withered to a stalk.

The stalk is withered dry, my love,

So will our hearts decay;

So make yourself content, my love,

Till God calls you away.

ANONYMOUS

CHAPTER ONE

I sensed the ghost before I saw her. Something in the air changed, just a fraction. I picked up a dull vibration, like the humming of bees or the crackle of leaves tossed around by the wind. At first I mistook her for one of the mourners, until I looked properly. Then, my palms grew slick and I wondered if anyone else could hear my pounding heart. The flurry of emotions that stirred in my chest was too conflicted to let me settle on just one. The ghost had crappy timing, showing up on the day of my mothers funeral. But then again, the ghosts Id known had never been big on tact; they were far too self-centered.

When I was a kid, I saw them everywhere. They intruded into my life on a daily basis. It was my mom who taught me how to block them out. Now, funnily enough, the woman who protected me from the dead had gone to join them. Dont be afraid, Chloe, I remembered her telling me. Just stand your ground and tell them to leave you alone. To my surprise, it worked. They went away and until that afternoon I hadnt laid eyes on one since. Deep down Id always known theyd come back, but why today?

I was sitting in the front row between Grandma Fee and my kid brother, Rory, watching the shiny mahogany casket being lowered into the ground. I wanted to cry, but there were no tears left. My eyes were already raw and burning. Grandma Fee gripped my hand, the only sign of emotion she allowed herself to show in public. Dont get me wrong; she wasnt unfeeling. She was just British. Her fine-featured face, still beautiful despite its lines, was set in stone. Rory looked small and sad, hunched over with his knees squeezed together. Swamped by an oversize suit, he looked younger than his twelve years. His eyes were pink rimmed and his nose was running, perhaps a combination of grief along with his plethora of allergies. I was tempted to reach out and push back the coffee-colored curls falling over his eyes, but I didnt trust myself to move even an inch. I was holding my breath and tensing every muscle into a coil. If I let go, even for just a second, I was scared Id break into a thousand pieces. I was sort of like Humpty Dumpty. I might have been put back together, but nothing was in the right place. I would never be whole again.

The funeral service was almost over, and the reverend was sweating beneath his heavy black vestments. I watched a bead of sweat swell at his temple and meander down to disappear behind his left ear. Out of the corner of my eye I sneaked a look at my dad. Over six feet tall and lanky, he sat at an awkward angle, spilling out of his chair like he wasnt sure how to arrange his limbs. Id never seen him look so lost. His broad hands gripped his knees so tightly, the knuckles had turned white. And every intake of breath was an effort, like he had to keep reminding himself to breathe. It made me wonder how he was going to get through the rest of the day.

But right now I had a bigger problem on my hands. The ghost stood not more than twenty feet away from me. At first I refused to acknowledge her, throwing only a cursory glance in her direction, hoping my indifference might drive her away. I held myself ramrod straight and fixed my eyes on the newly dug cavity in the ground waiting like a hungry mouth. It was strange to think that from now on this spot would hold the physical remains of my mother. The thought made me slightly dizzy, and my throat constricted to the point where I wanted to gasp for air. I found myself thinking about the casket rotting away until it finally collapsed in on itself, granting access to whatever parasites lived in the damp earth. My whole body started to tremble, and I quickly averted my eyes. Those kinds of morbid thoughts werent going to help anyone. I needed to stay strong for Rory and Dad. If I didnt, who would take care of them?

Only when the casket was in place did my father let out a soft, shuddering breath. His face was an open book, proclaiming his loss. But who could blame him? My parents had always believed their relationship was strong enough to weather any storm, except death, I guessed.

As the reverends voice droned on, hollow and comfortless, I watched the gray clouds gather overhead. I let my eyes flicker to where the ghost stood. From across the well-worn path that separated us, she kept her own silent vigil. It was so brazen, the way she stood there in broad daylight even though we both knew she wasnt alive. She was in the original part of the cemetery, where most of the railings were rusted and eroded, half-buried in the earth. Around her, cracked headstones sat crookedly like bad teeth.

The woman clearly didnt belong to my world. She was dressed in black from head to toe, including the ruched bonnet framing her sallow face. Beneath it, her hair was parted severely in the center and wound in a bun so tight, the veins in her temple throbbed. The bunch of wildflowers she clutched was already beginning to wilt, as if everything in her presence quickly lost the will to live.

I didnt need a second look to know that this was not a happy ghost. Then again, the ones left behind to haunt the earth rarely are. You could always tell from the look in their eyes that they were restless and troubled. Maybe their lives ended tragically, maybe they had unfinished business or maybe they were just never able to let go. As a child, I assumed everyone could see them. It was years before I realized I was alone in my abilities. I would sometimes wonder, Why me? Who singled me out and decided Id be up to the task? These were not questions anyone could answer, so I simply learned to live with my little quirk, hoping that one day everything would finally make sense. I was still waiting for that day to come.