“Minutes? Days? Hours?”
I couldn’t leave him out here defenseless. “Get him out of here. He has to survive.”
Modesto gave me stern nod. “Good luck.”
I spun on my heel. DJ and Crosby were locked in battle, grappling with each other. Crosby lifted a wildly flailing DJ into the air.
The gate to the back yard burst open and Kalina and Faith ran through, accompanied by a man who dragged a struggling Clarke with him. I recognized Paul from my meeting with the council. Spirits soared in after them, those being compelled by Clarke swarming to grab at me.
“Protect Yara!” Kalina shouted at her spirits.
Clarke yelled muffled orders to hers around Paul’s hand over her mouth. The battle raged around me as ghosts with flickering, compelled stares fought against the council’s spirits led by Janette. She tackled the first spirit that dove at me.
“Thanks,” I gasped. She gave me a grim nod and swung at the ghost beneath her. My sister, great aunt and cousin ran out from the back door with jars of ghost-be-gone powder.
“Kalina!” Faith yelled, falling to her knees beside Kalina, who lay crumpled on the ground next to an unconscious Paul.
“Yara!” DJ said in a whimper. He clutched his chest where the particles of powder Crosby had just thrown at him still lingered in the air. DJ gave me a frightened glance and vanished.
Crosby spun on me. “It comes down to us.”
“How do you figure?” I asked, motioning around me to the chaos of the backyard where we greatly outnumbered him.
Without a word he stepped from his body and everything went deathly quiet. Everyone froze. I wheeled around. No one else on my side who was still in play could project. He was right. It all came down to us.
Crosby strode toward me, his skin bulging and twisting with the souls of the bodyguards, whose vast power he now controlled. My heart fluttered in my chest, my legs sagged like overcooked noodles.
I couldn’t do this. I wasn’t strong enough. Ghosts joined him and moved toward me, their eyes flickering. Behind them, frozen in time in the upstairs window, Vovó peered into the night.
She’d been scared once too, but she’d embraced her heritage, her role. It was my turn now; I fought for many. Not only for the spirits, but for my family.
An intrinsic part of my being, one that had lain hidden since birth, rose and swelled inside me. Like a seed that had been watered, nurtured, and cultivated, it burst forth into a fully-grown tree.
The feeling that had been missing, the confidence, the sense of being a Matriarca exploded through me, like lightning. I could do this. I was born to do this.
A power that I’d never experienced surged through me. The feeling spread from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes, filling me whole, burning, searing, completing. Like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon to spread its wings, something unfurled in me, rippling free.
The council’s spirits appeared around me and Janette strode beside me, her shoulder bumping mine. I wasn’t alone.
Crosby roared. I could feel him gathering the wind, pulling it together, preparing to blast me. I took a step back, not out of fear, but out of strength, and kicked off my ballet flats, my toes stepping into the grass, feeling the energy of the earth. Crosby smiled, mistaking my retreat.
I reached out with all my senses, connecting with the elements around me: water, earth, air and fire. The plants responded, each leaf and blade of grass humming with barely contained energy. The pond rippled and the air caressed my skin.
The world was on edge, awaiting my command.
Crosby extended both hands and he sent a wave of energy so strong it knocked me onto my butt. It didn’t dissipate once it had hit, but grew, pushing against me. I raised my arms, creating a barrier, but the force grew, cracking the shield I put in front of me.
Foreign thoughts whispered through my mind.
Why am I fighting him? He’s such a nice man.
I shook my head. I knew those thoughts weren’t mine, but tendrils of his mind-control creeping into my brain. I could feel him in there, trying to seize control, to steal my memories, to leave me defenseless. I pushed back with everything I had: water particles from the air, dirt from the ground. They soared through his bodiless being.
My arms started to quake. I cowered, feeling my protective barrier shrinking. How could I defeat a person without a body? He was practically a ghost.
Exactly.
He was a ghost and I was a Matriarca.
“Stop!”
The spirits within him froze; Crosby’s arms paused, his body still as a statue, but the force of his will battled mine.
I could feel my strength growing, expanding. I stood and started toward him, wrestling against the air still assailing me. Crosby fought on, tendrils of his mental power still trying to dig into my skull. I pushed forward, step by step, shortening the distance between us. Crosby’s eyes widened and his lips twisted, defeat in his eyes.
He retreated back to his body, and the battle resumed, deafening screams and shouts over commands being issued by Faith. Crosby turned and ran. With a flick of my wrist, an ivy plant lunged, tripping his retreat.
Crosby sprang up, but I sent earth power into the blades of grass until they lengthened, circling up Crosby’s legs. They tightened around his wrists, his neck, and his ankles, thickening as he struggled against them.
His power flared again, prodding for a weakness in the barrier of my mind. It no longer felt like a hand searching or manipulating. It felt like a mallet bent on destruction. He wanted to extinguish me, to erase me from my own mind. I fought to hold it off, barely keeping the building pressure at bay.
“No!” I shouted. “Stay in your own head.”
Like a slingshot, the mental probes rebounded and his head whipped back.
His hand went to his brow, his eyes unfocused, his expression blank. Then his whole body jolted, his eyes rolling back, his limbs shaking.
I pulled off my necklace and shoved it in his mouth, which gaped open in a silent scream. I slammed his mouth shut and the trapped spirits erupted free, a mass of mist that separated into five distinct beings, the four bodyguards and Brent’s dad.
Crosby’s convulsing stopped and with a panting sigh he went lax, his eyes sliding closed. With blinding brilliance, the golden light appeared, its rays enticing the newly freed souls, welcoming them into its embrace.
Brent’s dad turned toward me. “Tell him I’m sorry. Crosby’s been controlling me for years, even before Brent went to Pendrell. I didn’t know.” His eyes glimmered with unshed tears. “Thank you for taking care of him. Please tell him I love him.”
With that he stepped into the light, disappearing into its radiance.
“Good Job,” Kalina said, coming up behind me. “That light is beautiful, but I’m glad it’s not here for me.”
I spun and threw my arms around her. “I thought you were dead.”
She touched her bleeding forehead. “No, some ghost just sucker punched me. I’m harder to kill than that. Besides, I already died once, and I didn’t care for it.” Kalina glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “Need any help, Faith?”
“No. I’ve got her!”
Faith had Clarke down, hogtied and drawing something on her skin. Clarke bucked like a wild bull, but Faith elbowed her in the face and continued her etching.
I recognized what she was doing; I’d read about it in Vovó’s journals not long ago. The irreversible spell took away a Waker’s powers. Clarke would never be able to see or communicate with the dead again.
Some part of me wanted to recoil, but Clarke deserved it. She’d turned her back on what it meant to be a Waker. Clarke’s spirits, free of compulsion, were moving into the light, but the council’s still hovered around. Standing guard.
Kalina knelt beside Crosby and dropped dandelion dust from her pocket onto Crosby’s face, guiding some over his eyes, into his mouth, speaking the words of the spell that would seal his soul into his body, r
emoving his ability to project.
When she had finished, the council’s spirits turned to the light. One by one, they moved toward it, Janette remaining until the last. Finally she, too, stepped toward it, stopped, and embraced her daughter once last time, each of them whispering their goodbyes. Faith wiped away a tear, but nodded and waved as her mother strode into the brilliant glow.
“Wow, some light. So that’s what all the fuss is about, huh?” Brent’s voice startled me, and I turned. Something about him felt different, off.
“I’m sorry, Yara,” my dad croaked from the back door, a tear lining his cheek.
He strode out, a limp Brent in his arms. Steve and Cherie followed behind him, pale and hollow-eyed, Steve hanging onto Cherie like his life depended on it.
My eyes swung back to my boyfriend, standing beside me. I didn’t understand. I didn’t want to understand.
“Brent?”
He gave me a sad smile.
“No. No.” I shook my head, trying to deny what I was seeing. “But you took the cure.”
Brent wiped the tears from my face. His touch still soothed, but it felt different, cold. “I didn’t get it in time.”
Brent held my gaze but drifted back toward the light.
“Brent—”
I bit down hard on my lip to stop myself from begging him to stay. I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him close, nestling my head against his chest, breathing in his citrusy-musky scent and trying to make this moment last forever.
The light lapped against his back, washing over my hands and arms, promising love and peace, lulling me with eternal joy. Brent pulled back, his fingers trailing down my arms until they clasped my hands, easing away.
“You can’t come, Yara. It’s not your time.”
I shook my head. The light engulfed him and he tried to pull his hands free but I refused to let go. I couldn’t. I was his tether to life, without me he’d be gone.
Through my veil of tears, I saw other shapes inside the light, materializing beside him. My eyes strained against the brightness and two became recognizable. Neal and Kevin.
My heart stopped at the sight of my brother. He grinned and took my hand, gently pulling it off Brent’s. I allowed it, but held on tighter to Brent with the other hand.
Kevin kissed the back of my hand and all of his love rushed through me. I’d never dreamed I’d be lucky enough to have another moment like this with him.
“I love you,” I told him.
Kevin mouthed, “I love you.” He blew me a kiss, and dissolved into the light. I stared after him, surprised at the peace I felt.
Neal took Brent’s free hand. Other people, about thirty or so, shimmered into view behind them. I recognized Phil Lawson, and others looked vaguely familiar. They surrounded Brent, hiding him from view, each one moving to take his hand briefly before stepping away. I still clung to one hand, and brought it to my chest, holding it close to my heart. Free from the light, his fingers looked drab compared to the rest of the arm still bathed in the golden hues.
DJ slid up beside me.
“I hate goodbyes.” DJ kissed my cheek and brushed his lips against the scar he gave me over my left eye. “I’ll miss you, Yara. I always loved you, you know.”
I looked away from Brent, studying my friend’s face. “Where are you going?”
One corner of his lip turned up as he slid his hand between Brent’s and mine. Holding my hand, he pulled Brent forward and somehow they merged, hovering on the cusp of the light.
Like a trick of light, their images flickered back and forth, brown eyes, then green, dark hair and light hair, lanky then muscular; and then they were two again. Though DJ had taken my hand, I now held Brent’s.
DJ winked at me and shoved Brent forward into my arms on the other side of the divide. He had taken Brent’s place.
DJ smiled, an expression brighter and happier than I’d seen on him since his mother’s death. His sister, Amy, stepped up beside him, beautiful again, no longer emaciated by drugs. He embraced her and gave me one final wink before the light disappeared, swallowing them up.
My hands went to Brent’s face, his eyes wide and dazed.
And then he was gone and I fell forward onto the thick lawn.
My cheek rested on the grass, the blades absorbing my tears. What had just happened? Had I imagined Brent coming back out of the light?
“Don’t cry, Bonita,” Brent’s voice said. I flipped myself over, blinking up into the starlit sky. Brent towered over me in his body. Whole. Complete. Alive.
He took my hand and lifted me to my feet, crushing me in a hug. I nuzzled my lips against his neck, relishing in his heat.
“You’re alive.” I couldn’t stop touching him. My fingers moved up and down his arms, across his shoulders and tangled in his hair.
“I’m as surprised as you are.” He caressed my face with the back of his hand. “In the light, they told me the tea cured my body, but only the light could cleanse my soul.”
“How do you feel?”
“Back to my usual perfection.” He winked as he flexed his arms, showing off his biceps. Then he sobered. “I feel better than I have in years. The spirits took back what had been left of them in me. They weren’t at peace either; part of them was missing. I’m just me again. All me.”
He brought his lips to mine and kissed me. My knees went weak as he gently parted my lips, pulling me tight against him. He nibbled his way down my neck, stealing my breath. His hands pressed—a throat being cleared loudly reminded me we weren’t alone. Brent smirked and my cheeks flushed.
“Sorry to interrupt.”
I glared at Kalina from the haven of Brent’s arms.
“We’re all happy Brent’s alive. Honestly. But your neighbors probably called the cops already, so we have to figure out what we’re going to do about him.” Kalina kicked Crosby who lay on his back, still entrapped by long blades of grass. His eyes were open and vacant, and drool ran down his chin.
“What’s wrong with him?” I asked.
Faith bent down, lifted his lids, and examined his eyes. “I’m not as good as my mom was with this stuff, but I’d say his spell backfired. I think instead of erasing your memories he deleted his own. I’m not sure how much of him is left.”
Crosby’s mouth opened and a slow stream of slurred gibberish came out.
“Gotta love Karma. If it’s like what he did to my mom, it’s probably permanent,” Kalina said.
Faith frowned. “I think the same thing happened to Clarke. They must’ve been tied together. She was spouting a lot of nonsense before. I marked her anyway, just in case.”
Paul sat up with a groan and dabbed at the scratch marks on his cheek, before noticing Crosby. “Please tell me he’s dead.”
“Sorry,” Kalina said, extending her hand to help him stand.
“Too bad.”
“So what are we going to do with them?” I asked.
“I can give Clarke to one of our government contacts,” Kalina said, while she and I pulled Clarke to her feet.
“Put Crosby in my car,” Faith said to Brent and my dad who were peeling back strands of grass from Crosby’s legs. “I’ll take him to a hospital. I have no connection to him at all, and I can tell them I found him wandering down the street.”
“What happened?” Vovó asked in a panicked voice. She stood on the edge of the backyard, taking in the devastation. “Why was that man attacking Yara?”
“Let’s go inside and we’ll talk about it,” Dalva said.
“We’ll answer all your questions,” Janae promised, taking Vovó’s hand and leading her inside. Dalva, my mom, and my sister followed.
That should be an interesting conversation.
I wanted to follow them, but I knew she was in good hands. I turned my attention back to cleaning up the mess Crosby had made.
Brent and my dad heaved Crosby to the car, unceremoniously shoving him into the back seat, while Kalina helped me guide Clarke to the other vehicle. We
stood in a circle and looked at each other.
“So now what?”
“There’s no way the other Wakers will be able to say we haven’t earned the right to lead our family lines,” Faith said “Not after this. Kathryn can suck it.”
“My Matriarca skills finally kicked in,” I confessed. “That’s how I got the extra juice to beat Crosby.”
“I knew you had an extra sparkle about you.” Brent put his arm around my neck and kissed my temple. “That extra oomph of power looks fantastic on you.”
I playfully pushed his shoulder. “Shut up.”
But I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face. My dad ruffled my hair as he walked back toward the house. I took a deep breath and glanced around my neighborhood. The teenagers across the street were playing basketball by the light of a streetlamp and a little boy rode by on his scooter, his parents walking behind, hand in hand. It all looked so normal, so completely separate from the epic battle we’d just gone through.
Steve hobbled down the front walk with Cherie beside him, and thumped Brent on the back. Steve wiped at his still wet eyes. “Don’t ever do anything like that again. You had me so worried, I about died with you there, man.”
Brent grinned. “Noted.”
Cherie hugged me tight, her cast digging into my lower back. “Is it really over? Did we really win?”
“We did.” I glanced at Crosby, his head propped against the window and drool running down his chin. This time it was definitely over.
“I shouldn’t sound surprised; I know we’re awesome.” She smoothed a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. “But honestly, there were a few times I was afraid we wouldn’t win this one.”
I nodded. “Me too.”
“I’m so getting all the details tonight.” Cherie peered into the car windows. “It’s hard to believe that man caused so many problems. He looks harmless now.”
“Harmless for how long, though?” Brent asked. “Are we really going to let Clarke and Crosby go and just hope their condition is permanent?”
“We’ll keep an eye on them,” Faith said. “There isn’t much else we can do.”
Faith and Kalina each gave me a hug before climbing into their cars. I stood in Brent’s arms with our two best friends close by.