“Sophia. She touched the wall and said no one would find it.”
He suddenly looked pale. He turned back toward the wall, pushing the compartment open and closed, then open again, the squeaking of its hinges the only sound on the third floor.
Finally DJ turned back toward us. “You can’t be serious. You couldn’t have seen her ghost.”
I gritted my teeth. I’d had enough of non-believers tonight. “You’ve caught me. I made up the whole thing. I knew where the compartment was and I lured you up here so I could perform a party trick.”
DJ’s eyebrows pulled together. “So, Yara . . . you really can see ghosts.”
I felt another prickling of memories I couldn’t quite grasp. But something else he said jumped out at me. “How do you know my name? I never told it to you.”
DJ opened his mouth, I assumed to deny it, but I didn’t give him the chance.
“I knew you seemed familiar. How do I know you?”
“Why wouldn’t I know your name? I searched you out, didn’t I?” he countered.
I crossed my arms and took a step closer to Brent, making sure that we had clear access to the stairs in case we needed to bolt. “Cut the crap. Who are you? How do you know about me?”
He gave me an enigmatic smile. “Everyone knows about you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
The smile dropped and he looked over my shoulder toward the stairs and the party below. “Look, Yara, I need your help,” DJ said, his voice losing confidence as he leveled with me. “We all do.”
“We?” I asked pointedly. “Who’s ‘we’? What type of help?”
He opened his mouth to say something but all that came out was a grunt. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “I’m not allowed to tell you.”
Brent guffawed. “Of course you’re not.”
“I can’t,” DJ said, his mouth set in a firm line. “They already have me. And the two of you are next.”
“Next?” I asked. “Okay, now you’re trying to freak me out.” He reached out to me but I took a step back. “I don’t want to get involved in whatever game you’re playing.”
His hand hung in the air for a second before dropping to his side. “It’s not a game. And it doesn’t matter what you want. You’re already involved.”
A feeling of dread shimmied down my spine. “No, I’m not,” I said with a firm shake of the head. “And neither is Brent.”
DJ reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out an envelope. “I happened to come across this. It begs to differ.” A series of questions were on the edge of my tongue but he shoved the envelope at me. “Just look at it.”
Brent grabbed the envelope and quickly tore it open. A stack of glossy photos spilled out into his hand, but the light was too dim to make them out so he walked closer to the stairs, stopping under one of the sconces. He squinted at the pictures in his hand briefly before his jaw clenched.
“What is it?” I asked warily, walking toward him, DJ hard on my heels.
Brent pulled a few from the stack and thrust them at me. They were all photos of us.
In the first, I was walking through an outdoor market, rubbing my arms against the cold humidity of the Brazilian winter. The next one had Brent at the beach on his lifeguard tower. The stack held a dozen others: me delivering herbs with Vovó, Brent and Steve picking up fast food, on and on. We hadn’t posed for any of them, and we certainly hadn’t been aware they were being taken. I held up one of Brent and me taken the day before I left for Brazil, staring at it as though I could force it to explain how it had been taken.
“There’s something written on the back,” Brent said. He grabbed the photo and flipped it over. This was crazy. Things like this only happened in spy movies. I brought the picture closer and scanned the red-ink scrawl.
They know who you are. They know what you can do. They want to own you.
The blood drained from my face and I felt woozy. Brent gently pulled me into his embrace as he turned the picture back over and studied the shot. It all seemed so sinister.
“Who are these people?” I demanded, turning to look back at DJ, but he was nowhere in sight. “Where did he go?”
“No idea. Probably down the stairs.” Brent frowned and shoved the pictures back into the envelope. “It has to be a joke. A cruel, sick one.” He stuffed the envelope into his pocket. “We don’t want to leave these lying around, though. Let’s go.”
“Wait,” I said, my gaze cutting towards the secret compartment.
Brent’s eyes followed mine and he raised an eyebrow, a small smile on his face. “I thought you wanted the day off.”
“Yeah, but this is what I’ve been training for. If I’m going to help this ghost, I have to see what she’s protecting.”
Brent held my hand tightly as we walked back to the compartment. My fingers pressed the knot and the catch sprang loose. Brent eagerly leaned forward, peering into the dark recess, and then frowned.
“What?” I asked, suddenly worried. “What’s in there?”
“Nothing,” he said, stepping aside and gesturing for me to take a look.
“What?” I took his spot. “I swear, there was something in there earlier.”
“Well, whatever it was is gone now.”
As soon as he said that, I knew what had happened. “DJ. He must have pocketed it when he was playing with the latch. He can’t have gotten far. We have to find him,” I said, taking Brent’s hand and pulling him towards the stairs. We’d only gone two steps when my skin broke out in goose pimples from a sudden drop in the temperature. Sophia materialized at the edge of the stairs, her eyes sparking with anger and her hands clenched in fists. She stalked toward us, each step dropping the temperature even further. I stopped so fast that Brent slammed into my back.
“What’s wrong?”
“Sophia is blocking our path and she does not look happy.” I felt ashamed by how afraid I was, but the fury in her eyes dissolved all thoughts about my ability to help her.
“So? She’s a ghost. They can’t touch the living, right?”
“Uh-huh.” I still didn’t move.
“And you’re wearing your necklace, right?” Brent whispered.
“Yes.” I patted the flower pendant for reassurance.
“Then let’s go.”
He had a point. As long as I wore the Pankurem necklace, a ghost couldn’t touch me. Encased in its amber beads was a plant called Pankurem, which acted as a spirit— and body—guard. Not only did it protect the wearer—or the person who had ingested some—from a ghost that might want to harm them, but protected the body of whoever could project from having their body snatched while soulless. Sophia, no matter how terrifying she seemed, was just a single specter. I knew he was right, that she shouldn’t be able to touch me, but it was hard to walk toward a ghost who looked like she wanted to fillet me alive.
I took a deep breath before taking a step forward. I just had to remind myself I wasn’t supposed to be afraid of ghosts.
“Where is it?” she hissed, her fear and fury slamming against me. I backtracked into Brent, crushing his toes under my heels. “You took it!”
“Back up, back up, back up,” I whispered to Brent. He listened and we started slinking further into the depths of the third floor. I turned toward Sophia. “I didn’t take it.”
Her hands flew to her face, her eyes widened impossibly, and a heartbreaking wail burst from her.
“It’s gone!” she wailed. “All these years! It’s gone!”
Her red curls straightened, standing on end like she’d put her finger in a light socket. Her scream cut off and she grew to twice her size, her pale skin flaming red. She seemed to morph before my eyes from a proper, if angry, socialite, to fury-fueled psychopath. The heat of her anger washed over me like scalding water.
Brent’s hand tightened on my arms as we distanced ourselves from the stairs. My eyes never left Sophia. I knew she needed help, but it was hard to think of helping her when I
was afraid she was going to kill me.
“This is your fault,” Sophia screamed.
She surged forward, her face contorted with rage. Despite my confidence in my necklace’s protection, I recoiled against Brent as she reached for me. I didn’t flinch as her nails drew near, expecting them to slide right through me. But not only did her fingers connect with me, they melted through my skin, closing around my spirit’s wrist. I gasped as pain lanced through my wrist and radiated up my arm. For a split second she paused, like she too was surprised, but then her eyes glinted with something horrible.
“Do you know what you’ve done?” she shrieked at me, her voice crashing against my eardrums. The ghost’s deranged howls filled my ears as her glowing red eyes made my insides shudder. “You led them here.”
I blinked in confusion at her hand on my wrist. She shouldn’t have been able to touch me. She shouldn’t have been able to hurt me. But she did, on both accounts. Terror washed through me as she yanked hard on my wrist. My spirit rattled inside my body, my ghostly head smacking against my physical skull.
“Yara!” Brent cried, as Sophia yanked me out of his arms and onto the floor with a painful thud. I winced as the skin underneath her fingers began to freeze from the inside out with a cold so intense it burned. I tried desperately to free my arm, but she only tightened her grip, driving the cold deeper.
Brent crouched down beside me and gaped at the purpling marks appearing on my wrist.
“Brent, she’s hurting me,” I said between chattering teeth. Sophia’s fingers wrapped more securely around my wrist.
“Tell me how to get rid of her,” Brent said in a hushed voice, his eyes frantic. He couldn’t see her, and he needed my help. I could handle this. I had to handle this. Vovó wasn’t here. I steeled my nerves, pushing away the pain and burning ache of her cold fingers, and tried to grasp at any of the lessons Vovó had taught me, but I came up blank. I hadn’t been trained for this.
I gritted my teeth. “I don’t know. But she won’t let go.”
Brent’s eyes slid closed, and when they reopened, the panicked look was gone, replaced by a quiet intensity. He stood fluidly and his brown eyes zeroed in on where he knew Sophia must be. With a flick of his wrist, he swirled his fingers in an arc, sending a blast of air tunneling down the hall.
The wind hit her and batted her around, but she didn’t vanish or turn into smoke like Thomas had last year. Brent’s brute force and elemental manipulation might not be enough. Sophia turned toward him, her harsh eyes focusing on Brent as he conjured the storm.
He brought his hands together and pushed one hand palm out toward us, hitting us with another strong gust of air, its strength building to a roar. Wind zoomed past me, ripping the bobby pins from my hair. Sophia’s gauzy dress whipped around her and my hair stung my eyes, obscuring my vision.
The coppery taste of blood blanketed my tongue as my teeth sunk into my bottom lip, biting back a scream of pain. My arm burned as if it had been plunged into a frozen river and I could no longer feel my fingers. Her touch stole the heat from my body, and my brain began to go numb.
The wind suddenly died and I tossed my hair out of my eyes, immediately seeking Brent. He cupped his hands together, like he was holding a ball, collecting the elements for a stronger attack. He pointed one finger at Sophia and the flood of air hit her right in the chest. She lost her footing and took a steadying step to the side, releasing me. Warmth licked through me like a vapor of smoke and I cradled my arm to my chest, limping forward toward Brent.
Brent lowered his hands to reach for me, and the storm immediately ceased. “Where did she go?”
My outstretched fingers were inches from him when Sophia grabbed me from behind, seizing my hair and yanking it hard, ripping a fistful of strands from the scalp.
“Ow!” I yelped when she jerked me back toward her.
Several locks of hair that had torn loose floated to the floor, the dark strands reflecting glimmers of light in their fall. Brent’s eyes darkened, turning almost black as he tracked their descent. He raised his hands and the corridor was instantly in motion again. The windows and mirrors vibrated and the paintings banged against the walls. Sophia glared at Brent, her tawny eyes freezing over. She pulled me closer to her with another fierce tug on my hair. Her other hand slid around my waist and I was trapped in her iron embrace.
“Tell him to stop,” she growled from between clenched teeth.
“No.” I trembled all over, but I pushed away my fright, trying to awaken my inner Vovó, knowing she’d know what to do. “I can help you,” I finally managed.
She laughed. “I’m not the one who needs help!” She pulled me closer, using me as a shield from Brent’s attack. Her cold breath spread across my face.
Brent couldn’t see her, but with my neck twisted at such an unnatural angle, he could tell where she stood. He stretched out his fingers with a determined look and launched a bolt of air so forceful that Sophia and I both staggered back. Her grip loosened enough that I was able to break away, and fall to the floor. Sophia lunged at me but stopped suddenly in mid-air, like she had hit a wall. She hung there for a split second before being thrown backwards like a bungee jumper at the end of a cord. She jetted toward me again, but bounced off once more. She raged and snarled like a rabid dog as she came at me a third time. This time the wall wavered a bit and I felt a current of air blow in my face. Brent let out a strained grunt and his upraised arms shook as if he struggled with a heavy weight. Finally I understood what kept her away. Brent. He had created an air-shield around me.
Sophia eyed Brent and I shivered; she had figured it out too. She inhaled deeply, like a vacuum stealing oxygen from the room.
“Brent—” I started to warn, but I couldn’t finish. I coughed; my lungs burned from lack of air. Brent’s face turned red in his struggle to hold the force of his storm and breathe at the same time. Then Sophia’s inhalation stopped. She twisted her mouth in a cruel smile right before she exhaled an icy blast of air straight at Brent.
He staggered as if fighting his way through a wind tunnel. His hair and clothes whipped behind him, and he stumbled backward, slamming against the wall with a groan. Held prisoner by her torrent of air, he struggled to raise his arms against the onslaught, trying to defend himself. He gasped against the air that forced its way down his throat and into his lungs.
I pounded against the shield that separated me from Brent and Sophia, the air rippling against my palms, but Brent’s wall held firm.
“Brent, let me help you!” I screamed, pushing against the barrier.
“No.” Brent’s face twisted in concentration.
I fell onto my side and the beads of my necklace dug into my collarbone. It had failed me for the first time ever, but maybe it could still help Brent. I reached to undo the clasp when Sophia began to flicker like a fluorescent bulb about to burn out. Her stream of air sputtered as her shoulders slumped and her arms dropped to her sides. She sagged against the wall breathing heavily. The feral fury in her eyes faded while her flickering image grew lighter and lighter until it disappeared in a puff of colored smoke that swirled away.
Brent bent over, panting for breath. His hands rested on his knees and his hair fell into his overly bright eyes. The hall, which had roared with gale-force winds only seconds before, now settled into a peaceful calm. My labored breathing came out in loud wheezes. I stared at Brent, my hands pressed against the invisible wall he still held. My wrist burned even worse than before, the sudden warmth of the room making the cold seem deeper, but I tried to ignore it.
“She’s gone,” I called out, my voice sounding too loud in the hall.
Brent let the barrier down and I forced myself to my feet, stumbling toward him. His warm arms engulfed me, his body heat raising mine. I breathed in his scent, savoring the comfort he offered, needing his warmth. I twisted my neck so I could see him. A smear of red from his bloodied nose stood out against his paler-than-normal skin.
“Brent. You’re
bleeding.”
He brought his fingers to his nose and grimaced as they came back bloody. He wiped them on his already red-spattered shirt.
“I’m fine. What about you? Are you alright?” he asked, his eyes wandering over me, looking for any sign of damage.
“My wrist and head hurt.” I ran my fingers through my hair and several strands came loose and fluttered to the floor. “I think I have a bald spot.”
He sucked in his breath, squeezing me tighter. “You’re like ice.”
“I know.” I felt like I had taken a dip in liquid nitrogen. My wrist still throbbed and I lifted up the sleeve of my suit jacket to find a near-black, hand-shaped bruise that circled my wrist, each of Sophia’s finger perfectly outlined on my skin.
Brent did a double take when he saw it. “The ghost did this?” I nodded numbly. “I didn’t know ghosts were capable of that.”
“Neither did I.” I groaned. It was only my first day back and I was already in over my head. I needed Vovó, but I wouldn’t be able to talk to her until she landed tomorrow. She would know why the ghost had been able to touch me.
I shivered as I remembered the way Sophia’s hand had reached through my body and grabbed my spirit. I felt sick— tainted— to think of another soul sharing my body, even briefly. I wondered if this was what Brent had felt like last year when he had been inhabited by more than thirty souls.
The bells of a nearby church chimed and I counted each gong. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. With each one my pulse calmed and the terror faded, but I still quivered in Brent’s arms.
“So, did your grandma give you any advice for handling a ghost like Sophia?”
“No. I’ve never heard about anything like this.”
He kissed the top of my head. “You’d think she might have mentioned the dangers once or twice, especially considering what happened with Thomas.”
I chewed my lip nervously and winced; I’d forgotten biting into it. “She doesn’t usually have any trouble with ghosts.”
“Never?”
“Not that I’ve seen,” I said. “I still have a lot to learn about being a Waker.”