It is the language of my ancestors.

Of my father.

My hand is cold where it's touching Courtney's back, as if something is crawling from her flesh into mine.

Bring it to us.

I'm not sure what Onawa means at first, but then I remember the dark place with all the spirits moving through it. Slowly I close my hand, keeping the fist pressed against Courtney's back. The cold spreads up my arm like ice, freezing my blood. I know if I open my eyes I will see my skin turning hard and blue.

Bring it to us now.

I concentrate on remembering that dark place where I spoke with Onawa. Then I am suddenly traveling. I am outside of my body again, but I'm not alone.

The River Man is there, in my grasp, struggling against me. He is a slippery shadow, squirming like a snake. He looks at me with black eyes that are somehow even blacker than the shadow that is his body.

"Don't do it, boy," he says in a soft, hissing voice. "Anything you want, I can give it to you. Football. I can make you the best ever. The best of anything. I can make you a king of men."

I never stop moving somehow. I'm not walking. It's more like a fast glide, kind of like flying, but not in a stretched-out Superman way. I don't answer the beast in my hand.

He stretches himself out again, then coils his long, clammy body around my arm until his face is near my ear. "Anything you want, Alan. Anything."

My mind betrays me. I think of Oklahoma, of football, of Aimee sitting in the stands of Memorial Stadium in Norman, cheering for me as I score touchdowns for the Oklahoma Sooners.

"Yesss," the River Man hisses. "Even that. Just say you want me. It will be yours."

Where is Onawa? Why won't she speak to me?

"She's left you. She is afraid, Alan. She made you fight me, but she's afraid to help you. She knows I'm too strong."

I stop moving. I search the darkness, looking for Onawa's glowing green eyes. What kind of spirit guide abandons her charge when he needs her most?

"She is useless. Useless and weak, Alan. Together, though, we are strong. Take me back. Let's go back."

He's pulling at me, dragging me back the way we came, back toward Courtney.

"No!" I manage to pull back. My arm is so cold. The freezing sensation has moved up to my shoulder, spreading across my chest, moving toward my heart. I know if it gets to my heart, the River Man will have me, too. "No." My voice is weak.

The River Man chuckles again. We begin sliding back toward Courtney.

"Onawa ... where are you?" I beg. "Aimee ..."

Suddenly a blast of heat bursts within me. It's like a sun has exploded inside me, burning me in a good way, driving the cold out of my chest.

"I'm here, Alan."

It's Aimee's voice, but she isn't here. Not here in the dark place. She's back in Courtney's bedroom.

She's put her healing hands on my body, adding her strength to mine.

"Great Spirit! I bring you this dark thing that you made for reasons I can't know," I yell into the darkness. "If it is your will, take it away from me and my family and friends and never let it bother this place again."

And there, finally, standing before me with her beautiful glowing eyes, is Onawa, my spirit guide. Her cougar mouth is smiling at me.

You have done well, Spirit Warrior, she says. Give him to me. She opens her mouth, and it's like her head splits apart. Between her teeth is only light, a light so bright it should be blinding, but somehow it isn't.

I reach forward. The River Man is still in my fist, but he's fighting, squirming and screaming and cursing and trying to make promises he can't keep. I push my fist between Onawa's long, sharp teeth, into her throat as far as I can reach, until my shoulder is pressed against her muzzle.

Inside her body I can see the River Man, a thing of writhing shadow, expanding around my arm, confined within Onawa. He glares at me, spitting and cursing, and then I release him and pull my arm free. Onawa closes her mouth.

The Great Spirit is pleased with you, but now the dark spirits will plague you until you go to join your ancestors.

"Who are my ancestors?" I ask. "Who is my father?"

There will come a time for that answer, Spirit Warrior. For now, know that it is not a man's ancestors who define who the man is. It is what he does for himself.

I'm so tired. I feel so weak.

Onawa is still talking. Every man has a destiny, Spirit Warrior-but each man must decide if he will accept it.

I feel like I'm falling. I reach forward and my hand finds Onawa's head. I lean against her. Sag against her, really.

Your body is near death. The dark one's poison was very deep.

"I'm dying?"

Look behind me.

I somehow find the strength to raise my head. I see a light, like the mouth of a tunnel, behind Onawa. "What is it?" I ask.

The next world. It is where spirits go when the flesh dies.

When the flesh ... dies?

We move slowly toward the light.

* 25 *

AIMEE.

All my life I've wanted to save people, to be a hero kind of person. All my life I've wished that I could've stopped my mom from going out to that river, that I could've kept her alive.

But I failed.

The moment I step back into the bedroom and smell the decay, I realize I've failed again. I never should have left him alone to fight. I never should have tried to find gauze to take care of my arm.

"Alan!" I yell his name like that will help, like it is magic or a prayer.

But his name is just a name, and my yelling it doesn't keep him from being collapsed on the bed with the thing that's taken over Courtney. His hand is beneath her back. His other arm is thrown sideways, parallel to her leg. He's breathing, but only just. His mouth twitches. He's fighting him. He's fighting the River Man somehow.

I run to him, to them. The entire house shakes. The floor seems to buck. The walls sway. He's trying to make it fall on us, I think. He's trying to ruin it all.

When I get to the bed, Court's eyes flash open. It is not Court inside them. It's something wicked. It is something that is so evil it could never understand the light.

Court's mouth moves and says one word: "Mine."

Anger surges inside me. "Oh, no way, baby. Not on my watch."

It almost makes me laugh. Not on my watch.

I lunge forward, placing my hands on Alan's broad back. He doesn't move. Something in the hallway crashes to the floor. The studs in the walls creak.

"Alan." I say his name, trying to make it into something magic. But that's not how it works. The something magic is in me. I am so tired, but I will myself to focus. My hands tingle with power. It's the power of light. I whisper the words, "I'm here, Alan."

He doesn't move.

I push the panic away. I force the pain away. Pieces of door are slamming toward us again, whirling around us. One strikes Alan in the shoulder. One hits me in the leg. I keep focused. The light surges. My hands shake with it. It's draining me, draining everything from me, and I don't care. I just want Alan back. I don't want to fail again. Something shifts in the room. Courtney's eyes soften, fluttering closed as if she's exhausted. It still smells rank-like feces and death, but something is gone. Alan stops moving.

He's gone.

I turn him over, check for a heartbeat. Nothing. No pulse. His chest isn't moving.

"Aim?" Court's voice comes from the bed, weak and scared.

"I'm here, Court," I say. I put both hands on Alan's chest. "Stay with me. Please, please, stay with me."

I shove all the power I have toward him. Hopefully it isn't too late. He can't die. He can't. He can't die.

Every single cell of me pushes light to him, begging G.o.d that he doesn't die.

"Please," I plead. "Please ..."

There's nothing. He doesn't move. The lump in my throat widens so that I can't swallow. I refuse to look away. I grab his head. My fingers lace into his hair and I whisper his name.

He gasps and opens his eyes. They are his eyes, just his, n.o.body else's. Blinking hard, he smiles.

"Aimee?" he whispers. He grabs my hair like he's making sure I'm real.

I smile. I'm so weak from saving him that it's hard for me to not fall on top of him, but I don't. My hands are shaking as they move to his face.

"You came back?" I ask, matching his whisper with my own.

"For you." He wets his lips. His voice is hoa.r.s.e, like he's been yelling. "For you."

I lean down. Our lips touch and it is sweet, so sweet.

Courtney croaks in a kind of laryngitis-style voice, "Guys. Could you stop making out and untie me because ... you know ... it's a little on the weird side of kinky, the whole tied-up thing. And ... I ...?"

I laugh and pull away from Alan. I'm tired from bringing Alan back, but just seeing Courtney there rejuvenates me a little. Her face is clear. Her hair's a total mess, but her eyes are Courtney eyes, kind, a little sarcastic, but good.

"Oh," I say, and start working at the knots on her hands. My arm hurts from the movement, but I don't care. "Oh, Court, you're so beautiful."

"Beautiful?" She shakes her head. I free one hand and start working on the other. "Think we should take a pic?"

"And put you in for prom queen?" I get the other hand free and help her sit up. "Yes."

Alan struggles to sit up, too.

"You," I order. "Stay there. You just died."

Court had been working on her foot bindings, but her fingers stop. "Alan died? You died?" Her quivering hand covers her mouth.

Alan nods slowly. The deep, distant gaze of his eyes leaves her face and focuses on me. "Aimee saved me."

That's when it hits me. I did. I saved him. Me.

We are all too messed up and tired to clean anything more than our wounds. We sort of stumble down the stairs and sit together on the couch. I take the middle. Alan's arm rests around my shoulders, but it's almost a dead weight. He's so tired. Court and I are in pretty much the same boat.

We sit there and stare at the TV. It's not even on, but we stare at the black, blank screen like it's some fascinating blockbuster epic.

"We should clean upstairs," Alan says. He runs his free hand across his eyes. "Your mom will go insane when she sees it. My mom, too."

"Clean?" Court snorts. She rests her head against my shoulder. "There are claw marks in the walls. My bed is kindling. I don't suppose either of you can magically poof it all back to normal."

I wiggle my fingers. "No special poof powers."

She groans. "Some kind of healer you are."

We sit.

"Do you think we're in shock?" I finally ask.

Alan nods.

We sit some more.

"Do you think he's really gone?" Court shudders. "Is he gone for good?"

We both wait for Alan to answer. He hauls in a deep breath. His entire chest moves with it. "He's gone."

"And you know this for a fact?" Court prods.

"I know it," he insists.

Our eyes meet. There's so much pain in there, but there's strength, too.

"I'm so sorry." Court's voice is a half sob. "I'm so sorry. I just wanted my dad, you know. I wanted him back so bad. I just wanted ..."

I wrap my arms around her. She crumples into them and cries.