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the car with the heater running until the gas gave out, or walk the rest of the way to find Phoenix.
    It was a no-brainer – I pulled out a pair of boots from the trunk, zipped up my jacket and headed across country.
    Anyhow, by the time I reached the shelter of the aspens, the wind had dropped and the snow was easing. Patches of blue appeared in the sky. I told myself this was a sign that I’d done the right thing, never mind Hunter’s orders, and hurried down the hill.
    I was so expecting to see Phoenix, to fall into his arms and act out all the clichés. I was so convinced in my mind that I made it real.
    It’s clear in my head … He’s strong as he wraps his arms around me. I’m melting at the sound of his voice, the grey world is turning bright. I feel his breath on my face.
    The new fall of snow hid the hollows on the hillside, making me stumble. I didn’t care that I didn’t have glovesor a scarf, or that packed snow wedged itself inside my boots. I was happily dreaming out the reunion.
    So I was surprised there was no light on in the house, but then told myself it was still daylight. No footprints in the yard either, but the recent snow accounted for that, and like I said before – maybe the Beautiful Dead don’t make marks in the snow. No smoke from the chimney. I slowed to a walk.
    He’s not here! It hit me like a punch to the belly so that I almost had to lean forward and hug myself to recover. Idiot – he’s not even here!
    When I thought it through it was obvious. There’d been no call from Hunter, no barrier of beating wings up on the ridge. The Beautiful Dead always set up the warning to keep out far-siders, even when they knew it was me. I guess that was just in case I had someone hidden in the trunk of my car – Hunter’s paranoia. Anyway, there were always wings. I stood in the yard and wondered what to do next.
    Then I remembered Summer – at least she was around, probably sitting inside the house doing that patient waiting thing that I’m so lousy at. The second it occurred to me I sprinted for the porch, but when I tried the door I found that it was locked.
    Which left only the barn. That was it – Summer wasbusy with chores, stacking firewood, loading it into a sack to drag fuel into the house or fixing something that had broken.
    I walked to the barn door, listening out for clues. I was straining so hard that maybe I imagined it – not a sound but a presence beyond the door, a sense that the barn wasn’t deserted.
    I reached out my hand for the latch, then hesitated. At that moment a breath of cold wind raked through the recently fallen snow, raised a flurry of icy flakes and blew them against the door.
    How cold was that wind! Sub-zero, and getting up stronger, rattling at the wide door, covering me in frosted white flakes. I had to get inside the barn or freeze to death. So I lifted the latch … and that was the exact moment when the perfect reunion fell apart.
    They were all there – the Beautiful Dead – standing in a circle in the murky light, all facing inwards towards Hunter and a second, grey-haired guy of about the same age, who I’d never seen before. I made out Summer in the rich red woollen jacket she wore the day before, Donna in a long, grey woollen coat, Iceman in a black ski jacket, and Phoenix.
    He had his back to me but he knew I was there.
    ‘Phoenix.’ I had to say his name. Surely when I spokehe would break out of the circle and come to me.
    Hunter raised his head and stared right at me. I felt the cold wind grow stronger, banging the door shut behind me.
    Actually, Phoenix didn’t turn. It was as though he hadn’t heard, though I knew this was wrong – super-hearing is part of their thing, plus the mind-reading ability that would have told him how much I wanted to be in his arms.
    Hunter was doing this to us out of spite, zombie-zapping Phoenix’s willpower, keeping us apart.
    ‘Phoenix!’ I pleaded.
    Hunter stepped out of the circle. He was taller,