Unbroken

  “But it also means we can get in now, right?” Ling asked. “If we ever get through this stupid traffic.”

  “Right,” said Rebecca. The busted-down back door was the only semi-good news of the day, as far as she could see.

  “Permission to speak, Team Leader,” asked Phil, raising his hand. “Please explain the missing cousin.”

  Rebecca sighed.

  “My cousin got wind of this whole locket-under-the-floorboards story the other day. She saw Frank, and got really overexcited. She wants to help him, and thinks I’m just trying to stop her, to keep all the great ghost stuff for myself. I think she went down to the Quarter yesterday to talk to Frank again, and that she’s planning — I don’t know what. Maybe to go to the house right now and look for the locket?”

  “Permission to speak again. What do we think Toby is planning?”

  Just thinking of Toby and his plans made Rebecca’s stomach turn. “All he knows is that I’m looking for a locket.” Rebecca and Anton exchanged looks. “He knows that the one I was wearing last night was a plant. So today he ripped it off my neck and threw it away. He also knows, I guess, that Aurelia is part of the whole locket-search thing.”

  “And we’re driving to Rampart Street because …” This was Anton.

  “Because when I want to find Frank, that’s where I go. And that’s where Aurelia met him, so I think she’ll probably go back there today. I just sent her a text telling her to wait for us on Rampart Street. Whether she will, I don’t know. If she had to walk there, we might even get there first.”

  “I’m keeping my eyes peeled,” Ling said. “It’s easier to make things out now that it’s stopped raining.”

  “So, best-case scenario,” said Phil. “We get there first and intercept her before she runs into a drug dealer or Toby.”

  “Yes,” said Rebecca, her nerves starting to chatter. “And worst case, we’re too late. Toby gets the locket and destroys it or runs off with it, just to spite me. And he hurts Aurelia.” Rebecca’s throat tightened. “Anton, really — you just missed that light! Can’t you get us there any quicker?”

  “This isn’t the Batmobile, you know! I have to, like, drive on the road!”

  “But maybe if we’re not too late, I’ll get to meet one of these ghosts?” asked Phil. “Good ghost, bad ghost? Whatever?”

  “Probably not,” Ling told him. “Ghosts are very picky. They don’t make themselves visible to just anybody.”

  “Man! I’d rather see a ghost than a drug dealer.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing you know judo,” sniffed Ling.

  “Judo’s not so great when the other people have guns. They never told us that in elementary school, but I figured it out for myself.”

  “Could everyone please stop talking?” Rebecca asked. Anton was flying along Rampart Street now, swooping into a U-turn. “This is it! We’re here.”

  Rebecca was out of the car before it came to a complete halt, sloshing through the flooded gutter. The sky looked menacing, brimming with rain. Another downpour was on its way. Aurelia was nowhere to be seen.

  “Frank! Frank!” Rebecca bellowed. Ling was on the sidewalk now as well, striding up and down, shouting Frank’s name. The boys had stayed in the car, probably at Ling’s request. That was good thinking. Rebecca didn’t want to scare Frank off by turning up with strangers.

  But where was Frank? Fat raindrops were falling now, plopping onto Rebecca’s head. With every moment that passed, it was getting later and darker; the house in Tremé would be even more difficult to navigate. Getting in was one thing; finding the locket was another. They needed Frank.

  “He’s always found me before,” she told Ling frantically. “I’ve never had to wait this long when I wanted to see him. But he could be anywhere — down by the river, on Carondelet, somewhere in the Quarter. Over by the cemetery. I just don’t know.”

  “What should we do?” Ling asked her. “Go straight to the house on St. Philip Street and see if Aurelia and Frank are there already?”

  Rebecca walked to the curb, balancing at the very edge and staring up at the derelict town house.

  “I have another idea,” she told Ling. “Delphine! Delphine! Please! I need your help!”

  “Who is Delphine?” Ling asked, puzzled.

  “That ghost girl, remember? She comes out on the top gallery when it’s dark.”

  “How can she help?”

  “She likes Frank.”

  “You mean, likes likes?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know — Delphine!” To Rebecca’s immense relief, a pearly light beamed from the top gallery, transforming its rusted railings into a sparkling jewel box. It was hard to believe no one else could see this, Rebecca thought; in the gloomy, sodden twilight, Delphine’s ghostly light swirled out into the sky like dry ice pouring from a stage.

  “Yes?” Delphine was there, smiling her sweet smile, leaning so far over the railings she looked as though she might tip over.

  “Delphine, I really need your help!” Rebecca shouted up.

  “You can see her?” Ling asked. “Really?”

  “Allo, Rebecca!” Delphine was waving, but Rebecca really needed her to focus. This wasn’t a social call.

  “I have to find Frank!” she shouted, rain hitting her upturned face. Anton and Phil in the car would have had no idea what she was doing or who she was talking to. She’d forgotten to mention there was a third ghost. “I think he may have met up with my cousin, Aurelia, right here on the corner. She’s younger than me — short dark hair, about this tall …”

  “Oh!” Delphine looked dismayed. “You know that girl? The skinny girl with the curls?”

  “Yes! Have you seen her?”

  Delphine nodded slowly.

  “When?”

  “Just five, perhaps ten minutes ago,” Delphine called, stretching over the railings. “But Rebecca — she was not with Frank!”

  “Really?” Rebecca wiped raindrops out of her eyes. Maybe Aurelia got tired of waiting for Frank as well, and just headed off to the house on St. Philip.

  “She was with that other ghost,” said Delphine. “That nasty man, the one I warned you about. Monsieur Mason. I saw them talking together, and then he took her hand and they walked away. That way.”

  Delphine pointed toward Tremé.

  “No,” groaned Rebecca. This was a worst-case scenario she hadn’t considered. The ghost Aurelia was talking with yesterday — it wasn’t Frank. It was Gideon Mason. And maybe he hadn’t been so mean to Aurelia. Maybe he’d been very, very nice. He was working Aurelia; he was working Toby. One way or another, he meant to get to that locket before Rebecca and Frank could.

  “Rebecca, what’s going on?” Anton was standing next to her now, staring up at the town house. “What are you looking at? Who’s Delphine? What’s happened?”

  “OK.” Rebecca was trying to pull herself together. She pushed damp hair out of her face, and stood with Phil, Anton, and Ling in a little huddle on the curb. “I’ve just been talking to another ghost named Delphine.”

  “What do you mean, another ghost?” demanded Anton. “You never mentioned another ghost!”

  “So now there are three ghosts?” Phil asked. “Whoa!”

  “Three who matter to us, anyway. Delphine says she saw Aurelia walking up to Tremé holding the hand of a ghost, but the problem is, the ghost wasn’t Frank. It was Gideon Mason, the murderer. He wants the locket destroyed. He’s been following me this whole week and threatening me….”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Anton demanded.

  “What could you have done?” asked Rebecca, wincing; her neck ached. “Ghosts can only hurt each other, anyway.”

  “So that means he can’t hurt Aurelia, right?” Raindrops dribbled down Ling’s face. This was the second time this week, Rebecca realized, she’d made poor Ling stand out in the rain talking about ghosts.

  “I don’t think so. But he can get her or Toby to find the locket and then maybe destroy it. Throw it
into the river or something — I don’t know. He could be spinning Aurelia some line about how the locket is cursed. Aurelia doesn’t know the whole story. Toby doesn’t, either, but he’ll destroy anything if he thinks I want it.”

  “They’re on their way to the house now?” Anton asked, and Rebecca nodded. “Then let’s go!”

  “Hang on!” Ling grabbed his arm. “Becca, didn’t you just say Aurelia and the ghost were holding hands? Doesn’t that make Aurelia invisible?”

  “It does.” This just got worse and worse.

  “So I won’t be able to see her, and neither will Phil or Anton.”

  “I won’t be able to see her, either,” said Rebecca, “unless Gideon Mason makes himself visible to me. And ghosts can pick and choose when that happens. If Frank was here, two of us could hold his hands, but without him, we won’t be able to see Gideon or Aurelia or anything….”

  “Unless …” said Ling. She turned to face the town house. “Ghost girl! Delphine! Can you hear me?”

  Delphine, arms resting on the railings, gazed down with interest.

  “I can’t see you, but I know you’re there!” Ling bellowed. She was looking up toward the wrong end of the gallery, but Rebecca was sure Delphine could hear her. They could probably hear Ling in Congo Square. “We need your help! Please come down!”

  “Please, Delphine!” Rebecca pleaded. Frank had said Delphine was a friend of Lisette’s, that they’d gone to school together. Delphine must have walked through the streets of Tremé all the time when she was alive, and that meant she could haunt them now. If she chose to come down from the gallery. “For Frank’s sake — please!”

  “Shouldn’t we try to find a guy ghost?” Anton asked. “I don’t want to be rude, but if there’s going to be a ghost fight …”

  “Excuse me,” Ling said, giving him her coolest stare. “Why is this about boy power all of a sudden? Who fought off Toby Sutton today? Rebecca here. All by herself. And she doesn’t even know judo.”

  “It means ‘the gentle art,’” Phil explained.

  “Not to mention that because of your brilliant idea about the fake locket,” Ling said, turning on Anton, “we now have to deal with a psycho arsonist as well as an evil ghost!”

  “Could everyone stop arguing, please!” They were running out of time, Rebecca knew. If they couldn’t find Frank, they needed to persuade Delphine. But when she looked up, the silvery mist of the top gallery had vanished. Delphine was gone.

  “No,” Rebecca groaned. “We scared her away!”

  “Oh, I’m not scared,” said a sweet, soft voice, and Rebecca had to blink away rain to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. Right there, floating rather than standing on the sidewalk, was Delphine, her face as pale as the moon.

  “OK — I’m cold and shivery, and I think I see a girl in a nightgown,” said Phil. “Either I’ve caught pneumonia and I’m hallucinating, or I’m looking at one of your ghosts.”

  “Everyone,” said Rebecca, quaking with excitement. “This is Delphine. She’s going to help us.”

  “For Frank,” Delphine said, looking worried. “Should we not hurry? I have to walk, you know. I cannot haunt one of these new … carriages.”

  She pointed at Anton’s car.

  “Ling, you know the house,” said Anton, staring dumbfounded at Delphine. He’d never seen a ghost before, Rebecca realized. “You and Phil walk — run! — with Delphine. Rebecca and I’ll go on ahead in the car. Maybe what’s-his-name, Frank, is up there.”

  “Nothing like this ever happened to me at home,” said Phil. “I love this town!”

  “Go, go, go!” shouted Anton. Rebecca raced back into the car, watching Phil, Ling, and Delphine dart across Rampart Street. Someone was going to get their hands on Frank’s locket tonight, for better or worse. Rebecca hoped they weren’t too late.

  By now it was dark. a sliver of moon appeared and then disappeared behind moody clouds. Rebecca had never driven into Tremé after dark. There weren’t many people out on the streets now, not in such persistent rain. Light shone through the shutters of many of the houses along St. Philip Street, but the group of three derelict houses, half consumed by vines, looked like three shadowy hillocks.

  She told Anton to park by a vacant lot much farther down the block, just in case Toby wasn’t exactly sure which house he was looking for.

  “We could park outside Lisette’s house,” Anton suggested, but Rebecca was worried Toby might be intent on burning something down. If they parked outside a house, he might not try to break in and search for a locket: He might just douse it with gas and light a match. Rebecca didn’t want Lisette’s house, or any of the houses in Tremé, going up in flames tonight.

  Anton was just worried about his car, she suspected, looking anxiously around as he pulled the flashlight out of the trunk. Thunder rumbled and a dog started barking, startling them both, but at least the rain had eased. Rebecca shivered, chilled beneath her wet clothes, even though the evening was warm.

  The front door swung open at Raf’s grandmother’s house, and Raf emerged, letting the door slam behind him. He was still carrying his trumpet, hurrying down the stairs. When Anton beeped the car locked, Raf looked along the street toward them. For a moment he hesitated, then walked toward them in loping strides.

  “You trying to get rid of that car?” he asked Anton, shaking his head. “It might not be there when you come back for it.”

  “We don’t want to leave it outside anyone’s house,” Rebecca explained. “Remember the guy who almost ran my dad over yesterday? He also likes to burn down houses. Really, he’s a dangerous kid. Violent and unstable. This is what he did to me today.”

  She pulled aside her hoodie so Raf could see the chain burn on her neck. Raf grimaced.

  “What’s his deal?” he asked. “Why’s he hate you so much?”

  “Long story,” said Anton, touching Rebecca’s arm. “We should go — you know.”

  “He’s looking for the same thing we’re looking for,” Rebecca told Raf. “Under the floorboards of that house. It’s a locket.”

  “You guys should keep out of that place.” Raf shook his head again. “You don’t know what is inside.”

  “We have to go,” Rebecca said. Anton was pulling at her now, eager to be gone. “My cousin might be in there. We don’t have a choice.”

  “Good luck,” Raf said, backing away across the street. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Rebecca felt even more unnerved now. Raf was probably right, but what else could they do? Hopefully the others would arrive soon, so they’d have strength in numbers — even if one of that number was a ghost who hadn’t left her gallery for one hundred fifty years.

  Anton whispered that they should get off the street, so they cut up the back of the three tumbledown houses, sneaking along the fence line with the flashlight turned off. A light rain pattered onto the long grass, and Rebecca hunched down, trying to make herself inconspicuous — not that anyone would be able to see much in the dark. She had to let her eyes adjust to the gloom, pausing when they approached the house on the end to take in the busted-in back door.

  Some of the boards had been prized off, leaving a gap large enough to step through. The house sat in darkness, completely quiet. Still, Rebecca hesitated, and when Anton made a move forward she tugged his hand; they both dropped to a crouch.

  “Rebecca,” a voice whispered, and it was all Rebecca could do to stifle a scream.

  “What is it?” hissed Anton. “Did you see something?”

  “Rebecca?” said the voice again. It was Frank, she realized, but he sounded different — tired, almost — and she couldn’t see him at all.

  “Frank,” she whispered. “Where are you?”

  A shaking hand appeared, almost disembodied. Rebecca clutched at Anton to stop herself tumbling headfirst into the grass. Slowly she could see more of Frank: He was struggling to sit up, struggling to open his eyes. He was grimacing with pain.

  “What happen
ed?” she asked him, trying to keep her voice low.

  “Fighting,” Frank gasped. His face looked drawn, sunken-in. “Fighting with … him.”

  “He’s been fighting the other ghost,” she murmured to Anton, who was staring into the grass, unable to see — or hear — Frank at all. “Gideon Mason.”

  “How can ghosts fight?” he whispered back. “They can’t kill each other. They’re already dead.”

  Rebecca had no idea, but there wasn’t time now for Ghost World 101.

  “The girl,” wheezed Frank. “He had the girl with him. Aurelia?”

  Rebecca nodded, her whole body tensing.

  “What happened?” Her mind was racing with possibilities. Where were they now?

  “While we were fighting,” said Frank, “she climbed inside the house. She’s still in there now. So … so is he. He followed her in.”

  Frank sank back into the grass. The thunder was growing closer now, erupting into a roar.

  “Aurelia,” Rebecca told Anton, her heart pounding. She leaned forward, wedging her knees into the damp ground. “Aurelia’s inside. With Gideon Mason.”

  “If he’s holding her hand, we won’t be able to see her, right?” Anton whispered. “What do we do? Wait for Delphine?”

  “Frank,” Rebecca hissed. She didn’t want to lose any more time. “Can you stand up? We need you to come in with us. We need to see Aurelia.”

  “Just give me … give me a few minutes.” Frank sounded spent. Whatever the other ghost had done to him, it must have been bad.

  “Didn’t you say,” Anton asked, so close his face brushed her ear, “that ghosts can only hurt each other?”

  Rebecca nodded. Anton was right. Maybe she could just talk Aurelia out of the house. What could the mean ghost do to them? There were no precipices to fall off of here. She crawled on all fours to the rickety back steps, and peered into the black interior of the house.

  “Aurelia!” she called. “Aurelia, can you hear me?

  There was silence, and then something that sounded like a squeak. Not a rat, Rebecca prayed. Please, not a rat! But perhaps the squeak was Aurelia? She might be terrified of Gideon Mason, Rebecca thought, especially after seeing him fight Frank.