Indelible (14 page)

My hand returned again to my throat, trying to wrench it free but her fingers—my fingers—pressed even tighter. My spirit rattled inside my body, banging against flesh and bone as her ghostly hand sank deeper, going past blood, tissue, and sinew, grasping onto my spirit’s throat.

My body couldn’t take much more. White spots fluttered past my eyes, the world blurring into a drunken kaleidoscope of colors. My lungs were on fire, my mouth parched. The familiar, tingly sensations of projecting rippled through me, and my spirit sprang from my body, ripping Sophia’s fingers from my throat.

I could breathe.

The air tasted sweeter than any chocolate. Sophia still stood over my spiritless body. Her face hardened, her eyes bulged, and her fingers flexed by her side. Again, she stretched out her fingers to my empty body and I grabbed them, gripping them. I threw her hand back and shoved her hard in the shoulders, my physical body jerking up as she stumbled back because it was still attached. She shrieked, her auburn curls straightening, her face flaming red.

“All I want to do is help you,” I said, forcing myself not to retreat, copying what I had seen Vovó do and raising my hands in what I meant to be a peaceful gesture.

“Murderer!” Sophia screamed, her eyes wild with rage.

“No, I’m not,” I said in as calm a voice as I could muster.

“Murderer!” She screamed again. With a roar she leapt toward me, my body dragging behind her as she reached for my throat. Her fingers clenched tight and in defense I raised my hand to her neck.

We held each other there for several seconds, locked in a stalemate as we clenched each other’s throats. The clasp of her necklace bit into my fingers—I re-grasped but it only pushed it in further. She shoved me backward and I lost my grip on her neck. I teetered off balance and my fingers reached, trying to grab hold of any part of her. I caught her locket and it came free. I fell back and landed hard against the desk, holding the locket in my hand. She lunged forward, trying to snatch it from me, but her tether to my body threw her off balance and she stumbled to her knees. I glanced down at the oval pendant. Strands of something poked out from the seams, like dark thread.

My hair! The thing that tied us together.

Without hesitation, I forced open the locket. The hair fluttered in the air for a second before I snatched it in my palm. My numb hand began to tingle back to life, the connection between us no longer existing.

Sophia let out an inhuman howl, grabbing my hand, trying to force it open. I lifted my leg and kicked her in the knee. She fell to the floor, still bellowing her anger. I reattached my body and spirit. Fighting through the body-wracking shivers, I leapt from the bed and grabbed a lighter out of the desk drawer that Cherie used for her scented candles, and lit the hair on fire. I threw it onto the candle plate and watched it burn, the wisps of smoke filling the air with its pungent stench.

“I can get more!” She advanced on me, each step heavy and menacing. I opened the door, flinging myself into the hallway, running into someone.

“Always in a rush,” a voice said. Vovó. Her eyes darted behind me. “Oh, you have company.”

Sophia raged again, slashing her fingers at me.

Vovó frowned. “And she is angry and rude.” She dropped her hand into her bag and pulled out a pinch of something powdery and white, which she threw at Sophia. The ghost hissed like a wet cat and dropped to the floor, crossing her arms to shield her face. Vovó took a deep breath and straightened her sweater vest before entering my room. She pulled me in behind her and we carefully stepped past the crouching Sophia. Vovó closed the door and pulled something different, something blue, from her purse and threw it in Sophia’s face.

“Calm down,” Vovó ordered the ghost. Sophia tried to get up, her hands in front of her face, her long nails arched toward us like claws. Vovó threw another handful at her. “Calm down! We are here to help you.” I was a little in awe. I had been fighting for my life, but Vovó looked as if she was simply shooing a cat out of the yard.

“Murderers!” Sophia screamed. She stood and came toward us but Vovó tossed more of the powder her way. As it hit her, Sophia stumbled backwards and fell into the full-length mirror on the back of the door. She screamed as she tumbled through it and disappeared.

Everything went silent. I stood in the middle of the room, looking around and panting for air, afraid to move. The adrenaline in my system had me primed and ready to continue the fight. I stood sentinel for several seconds, but Sophia didn’t return. My pulse began to slow back to a normal rhythm, and I decided it was safe to stand down.

Vovó was by my side in an instant. She held me at arm’s length for a moment, her eyes widening as she stared at my neck. Her eyes filled with tears. She reached out a hand and carefully touched one finger to my neck. I hadn’t realized how tender it was and even Vovo’s featherweight touch made me wince.

“Oh, Querida.” Her voice shook and she pulled me into a bone-crushing hug.

“That was close,” I said in a rough voice. “But I got my hair back. We’re no longer attached.”

“You did good.” Vovó rubbed my back.

I glowed at her praise and rested my head against her shoulder.

“You didn’t exaggerate. She is very confused and angry. I think it will take both of us to help her find some peace. We’ll have to figure out how to calm her down. But she shouldn’t be able to appear again for a while. She used up a lot of energy just now.”

That, at least, was something. I sighed and glanced over at the mirror where Sophia had disappeared. She was gone and my hand was my own again, but I was still terrified. She would be back. I couldn’t help but shiver.

“Um, Vovó? Would you mind giving me a tour of exactly what’s in your bag? And then leaving me some?”

v

The battle with Sophia had left me exhausted and I fell asleep early that night, happy to be the sole controller of my hand. I slept soundly, not even awakening when Cherie returned late from her cross country meet.

I awoke before Cherie’s alarm clock belted its familiar hard rock song. I stretched luxuriously and stared out the window. It was another perfect California day, with bright sunshine and only a few wispy clouds to mar the otherwise spotless sky.

Cherie rolled over in bed, took one look at me, and rubbed her eyes. Her gaze seemed to snag on my throat. “Oh. My. Stiletto. Heels.”

“What?” My voice sounded raspy, like a chain smoker’s.

Cherie jumped up and grabbed a compact mirror off the dresser and brought it back. I examined my image, trying to see what she was so upset about. “I know I look like crap in the morning. But thanks for pointing it out.”

“I’m not talking about your bed head. I’m talking about that huge bruise on your neck!”

I gasped when I saw the eggplant-purple bruise exactly where Sophia had grabbed me. It was in the shape of a hand, each finger’s impression caught in sickly Technicolor.

“Wow.”

“I should see the other guy, right?” Cherie tried to smile but it didn’t work. She wrung her hands together. “I’m guessing this is from more than a make-out session gone wrong.”

“Hardly a Brent-induced hickey.” I pulled out some make-up and dabbed it over the bruise. It didn’t help at all. In fact, it made it look even worse. “I was visited by Sophia last night.”

Cherie sat up straight. “She attacked you? I thought she had disappeared.”

“She had, but she gathered enough strength to appear again.” I grimaced because it hurt to talk.

“What did she want?”

“Besides to kill me?” I grabbed a wet wipe and rubbed it over my bruise, wincing at the pain that shot through my neck. “I got back my hair, though.” I waved my newly freed hand at Cherie, complete with wiggling jazz-fingers. “My hand is one hundred percent ghost free.”

“That’s something I guess.” Cherie’s eyes followed my hand as I brought it back down. “Did she give you those scratches on your hand too? It looks like you were attacked by a cat.”

I shook my head, not looking at the scratches on my left hand. “Nope, I did that to myself. It’s a long story.”

“Alright, spill it. I want every detail.”

I told Cherie everything, even the parts that made me want to let out a girly scream and wet myself. We were good enough friends that I knew she wouldn’t judge me.

Cherie glared at the mirror on our door for a moment. “So where’s Sophia now?”

“Resting up for the next battle?” I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m pretty sure we haven’t seen the last of her.”

I dressed carefully that day, wrapping one of Cherie’s silk scarves around my throat, trying to hide my damaged neck. On Saturdays we weren’t required to wear our uniforms so I dressed in a soft tee shirt and yoga pants. The scarf didn’t really match, and I didn’t usually accessorize, aside from my necklace, but decided I didn’t care.

Brent sat at our usual breakfast table, making his way through a plateful of the disgusting egg-Tabasco-syrup concoction.

“Really?” Cherie asked sitting down beside him. “Again?”

“I tried to talk him out of it,” Steve said. “He’s a glutton for punishment.”

“Watching you eat that almost made us all sick last time.” Cherie unfolded her napkin and placed it over her lap.

“Then don’t watch. I can’t help it; it just sounded good.” Brent raised an eyebrow at me and waved his fork toward my neck. “Nice scarf.”

I fingered it. “Thanks.” I took a sip of orange juice, deciding I didn’t want to answer the unspoken ‘why are you wearing that?’ hovering in the air. I spent most of the meal averting my eyes while Brent managed to down the entire plate of eggs. My stomach couldn’t have handled it.

“So,” Steve said, “Cherie and I have come up with some epic ideas for a senior prank. One that will have the underclassmen worshipping us.”

“Such as?” Brent asked.

“Not until we’ve finalized the plans.” Steve leaned back in his chair. “I want to make sure it’ll be perfect first.”

“Then why bring it up?” I took a bite of my blueberry muffin.

“To help build the buzz,” Steve said drumming his fingers against the table.

After breakfast, we all walked down the stairs to the commons building’s lobby. It was crowded with students studying and hanging out. Steve and Cherie waved good-bye, and headed to a study group. I plopped down next to Brent on the worn sofa and snuggled into his arms. From where we were sitting, I could catch our reflection in the mirror that hung on the wall. We looked good together, like a matched set. I leaned my head on his shoulder and sighed peacefully. My eyes drifted half closed, studying our image, when Sophia appeared, standing behind us.

I gasped, jerking around to face her, my hand already clutching the sea salt from Vovó that I had stashed in my pocket. But the space behind us was empty.

“Huh?” I said, pulling my hand out of the salt, and wiping the grit from my fingers. Had I imagined her?

“What’s wrong?” Brent asked, twisting to look.

I spun back to the mirror and saw her once again behind me. I wheeled my head around, and she was gone yet again. This time I turned slowly, her reflection in the mirror still staring back at me. It didn’t make sense. One side of her mouth curled into a smile and she gave me a wave. My eyes darted back and forth between her image in the mirror and the empty air.

“Are you watching a ghostly tennis match from the net?” Brent asked. I was too distracted to laugh at his joke. “Yara? What’s going on?”

“Sophia’s here,” I muttered distractedly.

He stood up, ready to fight. “Where?”

I placed my hand on his arm. “She’s here but not here. I can see her in the mirror but not in the room with us.” Was she in the mirror? I stood and stalked closer to the glass, with Brent close behind, while my hand reached back for more salt. As we drew closer, Sophia came forward too, so that she appeared to be standing just over my shoulder.

“She was in my room yesterday, trying to choke me to death and Vovó and I shoved her into the mirror,” I explained in a low voice. “I thought she fell through it, but it looks like she went
into
it.”

“Wow,” Brent said, his eyes wide as he processed that. He put his arm around me and then looked into the mirror again. He fingered the end of my scarf, toying with it. “That seems like something you should have mentioned to me.”

“I know. I was going to wait until we were alone.”

“So what happened?” Brent pressed.

“She tried to strangle me in my sleep.” I crooked my finger into the scarf and pulled it down a little so he could see the bruise on my throat. He gasped, pulling it down further to see just how bad the damage was.

“Holy crap, Yara. How did you get rid of her?”

“I didn’t, really. Vovó was on her way to meet me and arrived just in the nick of time. She was fending her off when suddenly Sophia tripped and fell through the mirror and disappeared.” I studied the image of Sophia in the mirror. She looked like a moving portrait, encased by the mirror’s glimmering frame. The hardness in her eyes and the tightness of her jaw betrayed the façade of serenity masked on her face. “Except it seems like she didn’t vanish after all. I think she’s trapped in the glass.”

“Seriously?” Brent said, moving closer to the mirror and peering inside, like it was a one-way mirror at a police station. Sophia tapped on the glass, and the mirror shook enough that Brent leapt away from it. “I’m half-tempted to project just to see what she looks like.”

Despite the anger simmering in her eyes, she looked absolutely beautiful. Her dress and curls swayed continually in an invisible wind, and her entire spirit radiated with energy as she pushed against her prison, bathing her in an almost heavenly glow. It would have been awe-inspiringly beautiful if it didn’t chill my soul to its core.

I kept my eyes trained on her and reached up, placing my hand over her image in the glass. Sophia looked down at my hand, and then raised her own until we were standing palm to palm, separated by the cool glass.

“She’s beautiful,” I whispered. I stared at our hands, placed palm to palm across the glass. The familiar feeling of sorrow that I associated with Sophia washed over me. I looked up at her, and for one moment I felt sorry for her. She gave me a soft smile.