Indelible (41 page)

Cherie shone the flashlight into the room. It was tiny, like the size of a utility closet. There was a worktable in the middle of the space and the walls were lined with shelves. Old beakers and test tubes covered the worktable. Spider webs hung from wall to wall and a thick layer of dust covered everything. The room was freezing, so cold I could see our breath. Cherie bounced the flashlight around the room and it flickered across a man. I screamed in surprise.

“What?” Cherie asked.

I pointed my own flashlight at the man. A ghost. He looked incredibly familiar. It only took a few seconds for me to recognize him.

“Christopher Pendrell?”

He shielded his eyes from the light like it hurt him. “Do I know you?”

My friends all gaped at me. “Christopher Pendrell?”

I nodded to my friends, but talked to Christopher. “You’re still here? I thought Thomas got rid of you.”

“Thomas trapped me here to stop me from interfering with his plans.” His voice sounded hoarse like it hadn’t been used in decades. “I came to the school after I died to try and stop them.”

“You were hiding the research journals your sons had, right?”

“Yes. How did you know that?”

I briefly recapped how we’d ended up in his secret room.

“My sons told me they were going to sell their journals to the Clutch. I stole them before the race. I didn’t know at the time they were plotting a murder. It’s my fault they ended up that way. I’m the one who made them take that plant. I’m a horrible father. I’m an even worse husband.”

The spirit in front of me looked nothing like the proud lemon-sucking man in the portrait. He was hunched with grief and pain. His blue eyes were full of remorse that had been building for decades. “I was so sorry for how I ruined Sophia’s life, as well as my sons. After I died I wanted to go to Sophia to beg for her forgiveness, to tell her I didn’t know the plant would cause the damage it did, but I was afraid to leave the journals unprotected in case the Clutch found this room. They’d been looking for this room for years. I kept trying to scare them away but it didn’t work. Then I was shut in here, unable to do anything but dwell on my own failure, knowing I had ruined everything I had ever touched.”

“The Clutch still want those journals. We’re trying to stop them.”

He looked at me for a moment like he was trying to discern my integrity and the truth of what I had said.

Finally he nodded and gestured toward a painting on the wall. “Behind there are five journals. You must destroy them.”

I went to the painting and removed it from the wall, revealing five worn, leather-bound journals. I pulled them out one at a time and handed them to Brent. He, in turn, wiped them against his black sweatshirt.

“What will you do with them?” Christopher asked me.

“I’m going to destroy them.

He straightened, and his face looked less drawn. His whole essence changed, like he had just fulfilled his one purpose on the earth.

I knew one other thing that he needed to hear. “Christopher, I’ve seen your wife.”

His jaw went slack. “Does she still hate me?”

He watched me, trying to see beyond the words I was going to say. “No. She wants to see you. She’s missed you.”

He shook his head aggressively. “You’re lying to me.”

The sadness and grief were a perfect counterpoint to Sophia’s. “She wants to see you. She loves you.”

The regal man started to cry. “She was so angry.”

I walked toward him and placed my hand on his arm. “Her anger is gone.”

A flicker of hope lit in his eyes. “It is?”

“Christopher?”

His head shot up, his eager eyes still trailing tears as he looked toward his wife’s voice.

“Sophia?” The sadness that had almost been tangible suddenly morphed into joy so strong my heart was filled with it. “Are you still so angry with me?”

“No. I know you didn’t mean to do it. I know you thought you were helping them and me. I did break up with Evan because of what the drug had done to him, but I never loved him the way I loved you. I forgive you. I guarded the keys all these years to try and make up for my last hurtful words to you. I couldn’t stand that you died thinking I hated you.”

“Can you forgive me?” He asked in a shaking voice. “For everything?”

“Yes.” She took an unsteady breath. “Can you forgive me for the awful things I said?”

“Yes.”

He was across the room in the blink of an eye. Christopher took her in his arms and they started glowing so brightly I had to look away. I heard their murmured words of love as a light appeared. In it I could see a man who looked a lot like Sophia and surprisingly, a little like Brent.

“Mother, Father,” the man called.” I’ve been waiting for you.”

Sophia and Christopher turned toward him as he emerged from the light.

“Lee?” Sophia asked.

“Yes.”

He was no longer the toddler Sophia had given away, but the man he must have grown into before his death. Sophia ran toward him, dragging Christopher with her. With each step she grew brighter. It looked like sunshine leaked from her fingertips, and the curls of her hair. A bright light washed over them as Lee embraced his parents. The light vanished in the blink of an eye.

My heart warmed and chilled at the same time, thinking I had wanted to send Sophia to an awful eternity of darkness because I hadn’t wanted to take the time to really help her. I had almost kept her from that joyous reunion.

But then Sophia and Christopher reappeared.

My heart was still singing over their beautiful reunion but it screeched to a halt at the sight of them. “What are you doing here?”

“We asked for more time so we could help in this fight. We didn’t cross over because we wanted to stop the Clutch.” Christopher drew his wife to his side. “I started this, and I need to help stop it.” They smiled at me before flickering out of sight.

“What happened?” Cherie asked.

I’d been so focused on helping the Pendrells’, I’d almost forgotten my friends were with me.

Brent’s eyebrows were drawn together and he was staring at where the light had been.

I caught his gaze. “Are you okay?”

He pointed to where they had stood. “They were standing there, right? And there were three of them?”

“Yeah,” I confirmed, wondering how he knew.

Before I could ask him another question, Cherie cut in, “So what happened?”

“Later,” Brent mouthed.

I  nodded and related the story as we left the building and climbed down the tree.

As we walked down the grove-lined path that would lead us back to our dorms, my insides still hummed with a sense of contentment I couldn’t describe.

“Yara?” DJ called.

He had fallen behind and I closed the difference between us. He stopped walking while he waited for me. I held the keys out to him while he stared into the tree line. “A deal is a deal. I hope they help Amy.”

DJ looked guilty and hesitated before opening his hand for me to drop the keys into it. “Yara there is something I nee—”

The dark path flooded with light as the lampposts burst to life. People, maybe about twenty, surrounded us, moving in closer until we were enclosed in a tight circle. I spun in place, my eyes sweeping over the crowd. My mouth went dry as I realized I knew two of them by name: Bryan Pendrell and Mr. Crosby.

“Impressive intel, Mr. Stout,” Mr. Crosby praised.

My eyes flashed to DJ whose head dropped at Mr. Crosby’s words. DJ had betrayed us.

“
Et tu
, DJ?” Steve asked, grabbing Brent to hold him back.

I shouldn’t have been surprised, and yet I was. DJ cast me an unreadable look before trotting over like a lap dog to Mr. Crosby and handing him the keys.

“Brent has the journals.” DJ stared at the ground as he said this, but then his head shot up and his eyes bore into Mr. Crosby’s. “Do I get the tapes now?”

Bryan Pendrell laughed. “Now w-w-why would we do th-that?”

Even in the darkness I could see DJ’s face lose its color. “We had a deal that if I—”

“We’ve changed our minds. You sister’s problems have grown since the tape of her drug-addled hit and run. The price has gone up.”

I usually didn’t like to see other people suffer, but DJ had it coming and a part of me was glad he had been double-crossed himself.

Mr. Crosby studied the keys then held them up so the group could see them. “These are worthless now.” He pocketed the keys and his eyes zeroed in on Brent. “Give us the journals now, Mr. Springsteed.”

“Why would we just hand them over?” Brent asked, stepping away from Mr. Crosby and into the chests of two more Clutch members. The men reached from behind and grabbed Brent’s arms, trying to steal the journals. Brent head-butted one of the men while elbowing the other in the stomach, freeing himself. He thrust the stack of journals at Steve, planted his feet, and dropped his hands by his side. He wiggled his fingers, warming them up and preparing them for battle.

“You’ll want to stop now. Don’t forget, you’ll still need more medicine,” Mr. Crosby warned.

Steve ducked as a man lunged at him and Brent maintained his ready stance.

“There is one more thing you should know,” Mr. Crosby said and pulled out a gun.

It was the one from my dream. And it was pointed at Brent, just like in my nightmare. Cold terror sprinted through me, bringing with it visions of Brent’s white shirt covered with blood, his body crumbled on the ground. My feet felt like they’d been cemented to the ground, but the top of me felt like a feather flitting in the wind, unable to stand straight.

Brent’s mouth tightened and his eyes narrowed; he arched one finger and the gun flew from Mr. Crosby’s grasp, jerking him forward in the process. The gun flew to Brent’s hand and Crosby fell to his hand and knees. He stood up, wiping off his knees and dusting off his hands.

Mr. Crosby stared at Brent, but spoke to me. “Now Miss Silva, we still have the matter of the barrier.” He inclined his head toward the groves. “Let’s walk this way.”

Brent raised the gun with a steady hand. “Let’s not.”

“Gentlemen.” Mr. Crosby didn’t so much as flinch.

The men surrounding us parted and a man I didn’t recognize became visible. In one beefy arm he held Vovó, a knife pressed to her throat. His large hand covered her mouth. She didn’t struggle, but stood calm and regal like a noble queen. Cherie grabbed my arm and steadied me.

I panicked enough for both of us, my pulse thudding in my ears. “Why is she here?”

“Insurance,” Mr. Crosby answered.

Brent trained the gun on the man holding my grandma and pulled the hammer back, the click making the hairs on my arm stand up in fright. “Let her go.”

“Are you that good of a shot Mr. Springsteed?” Mr. Crosby asked. “What if you miss?”

Brent’s eyes flickered to me. I shook my head and he lowered the gun, but kept it tight in his hand until one of the Clutch took it from him. Brent’s hands curled into fists as the men took the journals from Steve.

The man holding Vovó took a step back and she followed him. I made my heavy feet follow after them. Cherie still held my elbow, helping keep me steady. I didn’t see the branches, the fallen leaves, even the moonlight; all my eyes could see was the image of that knife against my grandma’s neck. The men followed closely enough behind that I could feel their breath. I didn’t even realize we’d stopped until Brent walked up beside me and put his arm around me. Instinctively my head fell to his shoulder. I noticed a large X marked in white chalk on the ground and four large camping lanterns hanging from the trees.

Mr. Crosby spun around and motioned toward the X on the ground. “This is the edge of campus. The barrier. Please remove it Miss Silva.”

Any thoughts I’d had of saying no vanished the moment I saw Vovó at the mercy of the Clutch. I opened my mouth to speak but no words came. Brent squeezed my shoulder and that somehow loosened my tongue. “I don’t know how. Even if I did I don’t have any of the supplies I would need.”

“W-w-we found this, um, on your g-g-grandmother.” Bryan Pendrell swung Vovó’s satchel with one finger, the one she carried with her when she was going out to help ghosts. “Y-y-you should, uh, be able to d-d-do it.”

My eyes searched Vovó’s. Why would she be on campus with her satchel when she knew Sophia was no longer a ghost in need of help?

“I came here to take down the barrier.”

She didn’t sound scared. But as she spoke the blade moved along her throat and I felt faint. I leaned more heavily into Brent.

“Yara doesn’t know how, but I do,” Vovó said.

“Then d-d-do it,” Bryan said.

“I will need my granddaughter’s help.”

“N-no,” Bryan argued.

“Oh, let her help,” Mr. Crosby said.

“Y-y-you are not the leader. I-I-I am. I own this land and I am the m-m-master!” Bryan stammered, his face flaming.

Mr. Crosby glared at Bryan and ordered, “Let Yara help.”

I was shoved from behind toward my grandma. My legs were like rubber bands as I approached her. Brent moved to follow, but I heard a scuffle behind me and guessed they had moved to block him. I stared at the chin of the man who held Vovó prisoner. “She can’t do it with you holding her.”

With a nod from Crosby, the man dropped his knife. I grabbed Vovó and hugged her tight.

The sound of the gun cocking pierced the night. Mr. Crosby held it. “Begin.”

I stared down the barrel, unable to breathe, think, or move.

Vovó called to me but I couldn’t look away from the gun. She stepped in front of me and shook my shoulders. “Ignore them. It is like any other night. Listen to my voice.” Her orchid perfume swirled around her and her voice calmed the raging panic in my chest. “Take my satchel and follow my orders.”

I took her satchel from Bryan. With a deep breath, I tuned out everything but her voice. I followed her directions to set up a silver candle with green and purple flowers encased in the wax. She dug into her bag and retrieved a bottle of a milky white solution. I lit several red candles and a deep purple one. I’d never seen her use these candles before and I didn’t recognize them by scent either. She poured the mixture over the chalk and spoke the words, “Barrier that kept evil in, with this mixture and the sanctity of the herbs, we ask thee to lower.”