Indelible

  I blushed too. “You aren’t crazy.”

  “It was a very . . . intense experience.”

  “I know.” My cheeks felt hot enough to fry an egg on. I studied our entwined fingers. “I didn’t mean to do it. I’m not sure I even understand how it happened. I sort of . . . reached out and touched your soul.”

  “You projected?”

  I shook my head. “It wasn’t projecting. Time was still moving and I was still in my body . . . well, sort of. My hand, I don’t know. I somehow reached down into you. My spirit melted through your skin. I touched you spirit to spirit.”

  “We touch when we project. I don’t understand why this would be any different.” Brent ran a hand through his dark hair. “But it was very different.”

  A cloud moved in front of the sun, making everything seem a tad darker and colder. I snuggled further into the warmth of my jacket, the stone bench growing chilly beneath me.

  Brent’s whistled a few bars of ‘Can’t Stop Dreaming of You.’ “I want you to try it again.”

  “Right now?”

  “Yeah,” he said. The flush from his face was creeping down his neck. “Unless you don’t want to.”

  A puppy dog couldn’t have made a more pleading, irresistible face, but I didn’t really need convincing. “Okay.”

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “Just hold still.” I bit my lip. “I might not be able to do it again. It might have been a fluke.”

  “That’s okay,” Brent said, taking a couple of deep breaths. “This is just in the name of science.”

  I gave him a small grin before closing my eyes and breathing in deeply. My fingers tightened around his. I visualized my spirit’s fingers reaching out of my skin and moving through Brent’s warm body until it found his soul. Brent sighed as our souls touched. His warm essence flowed over me and it felt like sunshine licking my skin.

  I slid closer to him, the warmth intensifying. A golden glow shined behind my eyelids and I peeked between my lashes and gasped. My body hadn’t slid closer to Brent, only my spirit had. I had entered Brent’s body, sharing the space with him. I yanked myself back, coming fully back into my own skin. I felt horrified, knowing I had crossed some sort of line.

  Brent’s eyes popped open and they looked sad, lost. “Yara—”

  “I’m sorry,” I said immediately, sliding away from him. I had just recreated the worst experience in his life. Another spirit had entered his body just like it had last year. “I didn’t realize . . . it must have felt like Thomas all over again.”

  “No.” Brent eased closer to me, and lifted my hand to his lips where he kissed every one of my fingers. “Don’t apologize. It wasn’t like Thomas at all.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Brent grinned. “I swear. It comforted me.” He took a stray piece of my hair and wrapped around his finger. “I’ve needed some comfort in my life recently.”

  “So you really didn’t mind?”

  He shook his head. “You can try it anytime. I enjoyed it.”

  “Me too.” I lifted my hand to his face and pictured my spirit fingers sinking past his skin. They did and I stroked Brent’s spirit lips, running my fingers slowly across them. He shivered and let his eyes slide closed. Even though I was touching Brent’s spirit it didn’t feel foreign, it felt like an extension of myself, as if we were one.

  My fingertips trailed to his cheekbones, over his eyebrows, down the bridge of his nose. My heart beat a slow steady rhythm, a feeling of contentment burning inside me. I hadn’t felt this connected to Brent since we were both ghosts, attached by an invisible string. We had been able to read each other’s minds then. I wondered if I could do it again now. I let my mind stretch out and as easy as flipping a switch, Brent’s thoughts burst into my head.

  His eyes popped open wide as I let my inner dialogue go out to him. We stared into each other’s eyes as the floodgates of our thoughts enveloped us.

  You’re back, he thought. I’ve missed hearing your voice.

  I heard what you were just thinking, I said into his mind. You’re lucky my dad didn’t hear or you’d be looking down the blade of that sword about now.

  Color rose in Brent’s cheeks. You know what they say about eavesdroppers. I continued caressing his face. He relaxed and calmed under my attentions and that feeling of peace spread to me, too. I twined my fingers through his hair, completely lost in the sensation, feeling nothing outside of Brent.

  My fingers grazed the nape of his neck and a shot of cold pulsed through me, like I had fallen through a hole in the ice, completely doused in freezing cold. It hurt. My visions blurred and I released the connection between us. Thick threads of a dark, tar-like substance clung to my soul. Before letting my hands back into my body, I shook them, freeing myself from its grasp. With a flash of insight I realized I could literally feel his illness.

  My limbs and torso trembled and I panted for air. That had been intense. Brent, who had heard every thought until I severed the connection, stared at me, not knowing what to say.

  “You could feel it couldn’t you?” he finally asked. “Whatever’s wrong with me?”

  I nodded, flexing and unflexing my fingers to try and work the icy burning sensation away.

  “Can you?”

  “No. But I know it has to be there.” Brent rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t worry. The doctors did a full work up on me while I was in the hospital. If there’s something wrong, they’ll find it.”

  “Oh,” I said, completely thrown and unsure how to feel. I tucked my shaking hands under my legs. “What do they say? Any idea what’s going on?”

  “I haven’t received the results yet, but I’m sure I’m fine.”

  I wanted to believe him but for some reason I didn’t.

  v

  The next day, after dinner, I decided to finish unpacking. Cherie had a study group so I had jazz playing loudly to fill in the silence. I was reaching for a hanger to put away my black sweater when I froze. Great. Someone on Pendrell had projected. It could be Brent. But I knew he had a video game night planned with Steve. It was most likely DJ and his mysterious organization.

  I immediately projected, irritated that I hadn’t taken the ‘time slip pill’ Vovó had given me. I motioned for the window to open and it only took two of my full-bodied arm waves for it to slide open.

  “Hey,” Brent said already up the fire escape stairs. “So was this you?”

  “Nope. It must be DJ and the people trying to recruit us.”

  Brent rocked back on his heels and grinned. “Want to see if we can find them this time?”

  I grinned right back. “Let’s start with DJ’s room.”

  “I doubt they’re meeting there.”

  “True. It’s not like it’s just him.” I swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous. “Okay. So where should we start looking?”

  “Either the administration building or the new Alumni House.” Brent sounded like this wasn’t a guess.

  “What makes you so sure?”

  He ran his hand under the neckline of his tee shirt. “Well it would make sense. I mean, we know that they gave DJ his scholarship. So they are obviously involved with the school. They sound organized. They hired people to follow us. They probably have some pre-arranged meeting place. So it would have to be someplace that most people wouldn’t have easy access to.” He didn’t sound like these were spontaneous thoughts. It must have been on his mind for awhile. He snapped his fingers. “My money’s on . . . the new Alumni House. The portions that haven’t been remodeled yet would make a good hiding spot.”

  We ambled down toward the alumni building. We walked around a few of our classmates suspended in time. They looked like human statues from a horror movie randomly placed around campus. I imagined their eyes following us on our journey.

  The campus was unnervingly quiet in the dark evening.

  We were halfway to the alumni house, and had turned a corner, when I saw something move from the corner of my
eye. I stopped and Brent turned to see why.

  “Brent,” I whispered quickly, pointing to where a familiar figure maneuvered around the frozen people.

  It was DJ. Brent and I ducked behind a bush and watched.

  “Where’s he going?” I whispered.

  “The Alumni House. I knew it!”

  We followed him, keeping to the shadows made by the moon as DJ walked straight towards the new Alumni House. Before he went in, he turned toward us and waved before disappearing into the building.

  “He knew we were following him,” I whispered, even though no one but Brent was around to hear me. “When did he realize we were following him?”

  Brent’s face looked both focused and angry. “The whole time. He wanted to lead us here.”

  “But why?”

  “Remember we thought they were waiting for something?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I think it finally happened.” Brent grunted. “But it would be nice to know what it was before going in there.”

  He bit his fingernail nervously for a few seconds and then lowered his hand back to his side with a sigh. “Alright,” he said finally. “I guess it had to happen sooner or later. I was hoping for later, but I suppose that was too much to ask.”

  “I’d be happy to just know who they are.”

  Brent scrubbed his face with his hand. “I have a hypothesis about that.”

  “You do? And you didn’t tell me?”

  Brent sighed. “Remember when I told you I needed to talk to my dad?” I nodded. “He didn’t answer my questions, but . . . ”

  “Yes?” My heart was pounding with anticipation. I couldn’t believe he had found out something so big and had kept it from me.

  Instead of answering Brent reached up and touched my necklace. “I’m glad you wear this at all times and I’m sorry,” he said slowly. He stepped back, worry lines creasing around his eyes. “I think this is all my fault. I just didn’t want to say anything until I was sure.”

  “What?” I asked.

  Something moved behind me. I jumped around to find DJ leaning against a tree.

  “Can you hurry it up? We’re waiting.”

  “You want me to go with you now. I thought you told me to run?”

  “I wish you’d listened, but it’s too late now.” His usual flirty smile was gone. He took a long, labored breath and let it out. “You two need to come with me.”

  Brent tucked my hand inside of his. His face remained calm, controlled and focused. I, on the other hand, was a complete mess.

  A door had been propped open on the side of the Alumni House and we went in. DJ led us to a renovated portion I hadn’t seen before. I winced as I saw the mirrors lining the entire length of the hallway. I hesitated, because I knew Cherie’s decorations had never made it here.

  Within a few steps, Sophia was there. I had no idea how she knew I’d be near an unprotected mirror, but she did. Perhaps our one-time link could still draw her to me. I hadn’t seen her since the pool house, months ago. I didn’t know if she had just used that much power and she needed time to recharge, or if Cherie’s treatment of the mirrors and windows had done the trick. All I knew was, it had felt good not to see her.

  Her image was reflected on both sides of the mirrors. I couldn’t suppress my shudder. Sophia’s nails screeched on the glass as she trailed along the mirrors, walking the hall beside us. DJ and Brent both ground to a halt.

  Brent gazed at Sophia with half wonder, half horror. “It stills freaks me out that I can see ghosts when I project.”

  “DJ, Brent let me introduce you to Sophia Pendrell.” I avoided looking at her directly. “Don’t make eye contact with her.”

  “Why? She looks nice,” DJ said, staring at the figure trapped in the glass. Her hair swirled around her as if blown by an invisible fan, her face a mask of innocence. DJ’s face reddened as he met Sophia’s eye.

  I groaned. “Don’t look!”

  “I am nice,” Sophia crooned, her husky voice sounding seductive as it echoed through the hall. DJ watched her, mesmerized.

  He was being whammied.

  I turned to make a comment to Brent but he stared too, his eyes going glassy.

  Great, they were both being whammied. The lady had skills.

  Brent released my hand and scooted closer to her.

  “Hey!” I snapped my fingers in front of Brent’s eyes. When his eyes remained unfocused I smacked him on the back of the head. “Evil ghost! She attacked me, remember?”

  Brent blinked at me. He shook his head and took a deep breath. “Whoa. Sorry, you’re right. I know she’s evil, but . . .”

  “Quit looking at her,” I whispered, jerking his head around so he looked at me. “Close your eyes.”

  “Right.” His eye slid closed. “Sorry.”

  “DJ,” she said in a sweet voice. “Help me, please. She’s trapped me here at this school. Trapped me in this prison.” Talk about twisting the facts.

  DJ stared at her, open mouthed, with a dreamy expression. I slapped his face. He didn’t even blink. Wow.

  “Sophia, let him go,” I warned, stepping in front of DJ.

  Sophia’s smile widened. “DJ.” His name fell from her lips in a sexy caress. “If you come closer, I’ll tell you a secret.”

  He sighed. She cocked one finger at him in a come-hither motion, her smile turning seductive. He almost tripped over his feet to get to her. He slid closer to the beautiful ghost and he pressed his hand against the mirror.

  “You idiot!” I lunged for him, yanking him back as her nails gouged him in the wrist.

  He hissed in pain as spirit fluid oozed from the scrapes. He awoke from his trance and swore at Sophia. “I thought ghosts couldn’t touch people.”

  “You’re not exactly alive at the moment, are you?” I pointed out.

  He touched his face and worked his jaw muscles. “Did you slap me?”

  I tried to keep a straight face. “It was for your own good.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.” He dabbed at the blue liquid on his wrist. “What is this?”

  “I call it spirit fluid. It’s the disembodied version of blood.”

  DJ frowned. “Why did she do this to me? Why did she hurt you earlier?” he asked, gesturing to my where my bruises once lay.

  “She’s an angry ghost. It all started because she thinks Yara stole the key.” Brent crossed his arms and glared at DJ, who swallowed nervously.

  DJ scratched his head. “But you didn’t even steal it from her. I did.”

  As soon as the words left his mouth, Sophia lost all of her charm. Her figure ceased glowing, and she went from innocent and seductive to red-hot angry and murderous. She screamed in fury and pressed her palms against her prison, searching for an exit.

  “Dude, you’re even stupider than I thought you were,” Brent said, smacking DJ on the back of the head.

  I touched DJ on the arm. “Tag. You’re it. Welcome to being number one on Sophia’s Most Hated list.”

  DJ’s face seemed to pale. He grabbed my wrist and walked us down the hallway, her shouts of fury echoing around us.

  “We need to get out of here.” DJ’s breath came in ragged pants and a faint sheen of perspiration glistened around his hairline.

  I grinned at him. “She scared you.”

  “Of course she scared me. She just grabbed me from inside a mirror!”

  “Yeah, she likes to do that.”

  DJ shot me a disbelieving glance, his hand twitching. “How can you be so calm? Don’t you remember what she did in the pool house?”

  I shrugged. “You get used to it.” My voice sounded confident. But truth be told, I wanted out of the mirrored hallway too. “Where are we going?”

  DJ blinked. “Oh, right. This way. They won’t be happy we kept them waiting so long.”

  Once we were out of the mirrored hallway, he let out a sigh of relief and ran his fingers over Sophia’s claw marks. “I can’t believe this is your life.”

  “Mo
st of the time, I can’t either.”

  After that, the three of us walked in silence. DJ led us around another turn, to a hallway that looked familiar.

  “Hey, this is where we have our internship,” Brent whispered.

  We followed him as he turned down another corridor and into a doorway I remembered very well. It was the room I had been locked in. The plastic tarp had been parted and we proceeded to the narrow hallway I had almost ventured down. We passed through another doorway and suddenly the décor was new, luxurious even. My feet sunk into thick carpet and we went up a set of stairs. At the top, the heavy ornate door stood open.

  I gulped as we entered. The room was almost pitch black.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Stand here,” DJ instructed before he turned right and walked to the other side where he stood, eyes down.

  If I hadn’t been projecting, I probably wouldn’t have been able to see a thing despite the dozen or so thick candles set around the large, circular table. About forty chairs were gathered around the table and every one of them was filled. I squinted around the room at the robed figures, but I couldn’t make out a single face behind the darkened hoods.

  What I could see were dozens of hands resting on the table, their owners still enveloped in darkness. The dark wood of the heavily ornamented table was polished to a shine. The air smelled stale, thick with cologne and expensive cigars.

  The hands seemed to be men’s hands. Most were old, some twisted with arthritis, others fat and hairy. Only a few looked young.

  Besides the robes, they all had two things in common: each wore a matching ring, and they could all project. The empty bodies sitting around the table were perfectly still, but behind each one stood its spirit. I could see clearly, on the hand of the man closest to me, the silver ring he wore. It was embossed with an insignia—a large skeleton key clenched in a closed fist.

  “Welcome, Miss Silva and Mr. Springsteed,” a baritone voice called out from the darkness. “Thank you for joining us tonight.”

  “Who are you?” I asked.