8
I kept my head down during school the next day, and things seemed slightly better. Like I’d moved from a living hell to mere purgatory. Either Natalie’s speech had succeeded, or I was getting major points for introducing a new cute guy to school. Anyway, there were fewer frowns and more nods than the day before. Even from some of the girls, who tended to be less forgiving than boys.
Kylee caught me just inside the front hall and offered to pair up with me for fencing. Kylee was ninety pounds soaking wet, and could barely lift her own backpack, yet still could kick my ass at fencing. She was good at following the intricate rules. I was good at killing wraiths, not executing perfect coupés.
“I noticed you and Sara are kind of …” She tilted her head, waiting for me to finish.
“Yeah,” I said, unwilling to go into details. Everyone knew Sara and Coby were best friends. How hard was it to figure out why we’d stopped talking to each other?
“Anyway,” she said, “I promise to go easy on you.”
“Thanks,” I said, heading off to Latin. I knew there was a reason I’d always been nice to her, despite the butt-kickings.
Natalie was across the room leaning on Harry’s desk, seemingly flirting with him. The traitor. I went and sat next to Lukas, who sprawled at a desk that he made look miniature. He was even taller than I’d realized.
“I think I’m in love,” Lukas said.
“With who? You’ve only been here like ten minutes.”
“Okay, so it’s lust.”
I glanced at him in alarm. “Not with Natalie.”
He sat up straighter. “What? She’s hot. Though I’d have to be a fool to fall for another ghostkeeper.”
I grunted.
“Oh, sorry. Forgot about you and Bennett.”
Natalie sauntered over to join us. “Did you tell him about Bennett?” I asked.
“It’s no secret, Emma,” she said. “You’re like a legend in the ghostkeeping world. Word gets around.”
Great. My heartbreak the subject of Knell gossip. Just what I needed.
“What were you doing talking to Harry?” I asked.
“Intel,” she said. “Trying to figure out how to end this feud between you.”
“And?” I asked, hoping for some inspiration.
“And he smelled like booze.”
“Already?” I glanced at him and he glared back at me.
“That’s not good,” Lukas said in Latin. The dead language came easily to him. He was a ghostkeeper. We bring the dead to life.
Lukas sat with me and Natalie for lunch. He swaggered in, looking edgy and sexy in his uniform. I swear I heard girls sigh as he passed their tables. Harry and Sara were conspicuously absent, which was a relief. Though I wondered if Harry was off drinking and if Sara had joined him, just like she used to down espressos with him.
I still needed to talk to them about Coby. Add that to my list of impossible things I needed to accomplish.
Lukas seemed oblivious to the effect he had as he dug into his lunch. I noticed Anatole had packed Lukas what he must’ve considered a “man’s meal.” While Natalie and I were given fruit salad and whole-grain rolls, Lukas had a thick ham sandwich and potato chips. Then I wondered if he’d compelled Anatole to make that.
I was about to ask when he said, “Wow. Who’s she?”
We looked up and saw Britta. She was in my Trig and Western Civ classes, and we hated each other. Though, I had to admit, she was pretty, with long tawny hair and peachy skin. She was one of those girls who’s curvy yet minuscule at the same time. And no, that’s not why I hated her.
Lukas smiled, and Britta flashed her fangs at him.
“You’re new, right?” she cooed. “I think you’re sitting at the wrong table.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm. Because mine is over there.” She gave him a coy look. “And I’d love to show you everything.”
Lukas nodded slowly, like he was considering, and I held my breath. Britta was easy and hot, and he was a guy. But he just took another bite of his sandwich. “Nah, I’m good.”
Britta’s face flushed, and she turned on her heel and marched back to her table.
“Why didn’t you go with her?” Natalie asked. “She’s cute. Chock full of nuts, but cute.”
“We’ve got girls like that in Boston,” he said. “Fake as her nails.”
I hadn’t been sure about Lukas, because of the whole compelling-the-house-ghosts thing, but at least he was a good judge of character. It was a relief to think I might have another friend around here.
After school, the three of us met at the gate and walked back to the museum together. Lukas amused us with stories of life at his old school in Boston, two hundred years old and packed with resident ghosts. Lukas had been the only ghostkeeper, but he couldn’t summon, so he had to wait for them to appear on their own. When they did, he’d compel them to play pranks on teachers and kids who bugged him. The students and faculty had started saying the place was haunted when the Knell finally contacted him.
As we walked down the long gravel drive through the stand of maple trees, I begged Lukas not to start that game at Thatcher. I had enough problems.
“Actually,” Natalie said thoughtfully, “he won’t have to wait for them. I’ll summon them, then he’ll compel them.”
“Natalie!”
“What? It’s funny.”
The two of them spent the rest of the walk home plotting pranks, as I loftily ignored them.
When we opened the front door, Simon stood in the foyer, waiting for us.
“There is a snack waiting in the kitchen,” he said.
“I’m not hungry,” Natalie said. “I’m going for a run.”
She started up the stairs, but Simon’s voice stopped her in her tracks. “Natalie, you may change your clothes, then you will join Emma and Lukas for sustenance in the kitchen.”
Sustenance? Who uses words like sustenance?
“Then you will all meet me in the ballroom,” Simon continued. “Yes, we dispelled a handful of ghasts, but next we face wraiths. And then Neos. He’s killed six ghostkeepers already—I’d prefer if none of you were number seven.”
Natalie glanced at me, as though waiting for a protest.
I shrugged. “We could use the practice.”
She turned to Lukas. He said, “I could eat again.”
Natalie rolled her eyes. “I already know how to summon. What is there for me to practice?”
“Returning them,” Simon said.
“You mean dispelling them?” Lukas asked. “She can’t do that; she’s a summoner.”
“Dispellers send spirits to their mortal form, dead in the ground. However, summoners can learn to return ghosts they’ve summoned back into the Beyond.”
“What?” Natalie said. “No, we can’t.”
“You can if you’re taught properly.”
“Why didn’t anyone ever tell me that?” Natalie asked, hand on one hip.
“Because you never met me before. It’s an old art, and rarely used, as we always team a dispeller with a summoner. But it’s possible.”
“Where’d you learn this stuff?” I asked.
“From Yoshiro,” he said. “And far too many dusty books. Now go change; your snack’s waiting in the kitchen.”
We headed upstairs, and Natalie said, “Do you think he’s all talk?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it sounds believable because of his accent. We’ll find out soon enough.”
I shucked my uniform and sank into gray yoga pants and a black tank top. If Simon’s drills were anything like Martha’s, I knew I’d be sweating, but in the meantime I tossed on a red cashmere hoodie that belonged to my mom. I hadn’t taken it to the cleaners and it still smelled a little of her perfume. Maybe my mom and I didn’t have the best relationship, but I still missed her. With each passing day, I began to worry that something really terrible had happened to her and my dad and Max. The longer I didn’t hear from them, the more I thought I never would. They were all ghostkeepers. If they were dead, they were dead. No ghosts lingering in the Beyond.
When I met Natalie in the hall, she was dressed in her running gear. “You’re not—”
She shrugged. “It’s comfortable. Besides, this can’t take all afternoon.”
We met Lukas in the kitchen. He’d changed into jeans and a white T-shirt and sat happily sipping soup from a little Chinese bowl.
I looked closer and saw brown rice. I peered at Anatole. Is that … miso?
Do not even say that word! Mi-so. His mustache bristled. This is not soup; this is an offense against God and man.
But … where are the cakes and cookies? The berries and homemade lemonade? There was a solarium off the kitchen, like a fancy greenhouse where Anatole grew orange and lemon trees.
Don’t look to me, chéri. It is that horrible pale fellow, Simon. This was hiz doing.
But how did he ask you?
He pointed to a note, sitting on the kitchen counter. There were detailed instructions about how long to cook the rice and prepare the miso.
You can read? I asked.
Anatole scoffed. But of course. And in any case, we can oftentimes understand you. It iz just the living who cannot understand the dead. Unless you are a communicator, that iz to say. Then you ask the insulting questions—if I can read!
I’m sorry. It’s just I’ve read in old books that servants—
I am no servant! His French accent was even thicker than usual, which meant I’d really upset him. Pah. You are young. But have a talk with zat … horrible fellow. Hiz cooking iz not for me.
I nodded, chastised, and sipped my miso. It was surprisingly tasty.
Fifteen minutes later, we all shuffled into the ballroom, where Simon was waiting. He wore a gray tracksuit and a whistle around his neck.
“Let’s begin,” he said.
“Sure, Coach,” Lukas said. “Should we run laps?”
Natalie clapped. “Yeah, we’ve gotta get ready for the Big Game.”
Simon blew his whistle. “Lukas, shut up. Natalie, summon a ghost from the harbor.”
“What?” she said. “I can’t, that’s way too far.”
“That’s the first lesson—the rules are changing. Nobody has more than one ability, right? We all learned that. Except Emma has all the abilities. Possession is impossible, right? Not any more. Nobody’s seen a wraith in centuries—but Neos is creating an army of them, right now. We’re living through some big, scary changes. You don’t know what’s possible. You don’t know the extent of your powers.”
“And you do?” Natalie asked.
“Not always,” he said. “But I know that the old rules don’t apply. And I’ve spent enough time reading myths and legends to push you in the right direction. Close your eyes, Natalie. Concentrate. Picture the harbor. Imagine you’re there, smell the air, feel the breeze. Then open yourself to the lingering spirits …”
His voice turned to an almost hypnotic drone as he murmured to her, guiding her through an unseen maze of spectral powers. He worked with her for several minutes, while Lukas and I lounged on the floor and gossiped about school.
“So, is Thatcher anything like your old school?” I asked.
“Nah.” Lukas glanced toward the ceiling, thinking about it. “I never thought I’d say this, but I sort of miss the thugs.”
“I know, right? The scariest thing about Thatcher is the uniforms.”
“What do you think you’re doing?” Simon towered over us.
“Uh, waiting for Natalie to summon a ghost?” Lukas said.
“You think her lesson doesn’t apply to you? That these techniques won’t help you become a better compeller? She’s broadening her mind, and you’re chatting like magpies. She’s your teammate; give her a little respect. And you”—he turned his full disgust on me—“I expected better. You can summon; you need to master all these lessons.”
We watched in chastened silence while Natalie summoned ghosts from the harbor, a gnarled old sea dog, then a woman with feathered seventies hair. Then it was my turn. I summoned a zitty teenager, and Lukas and I practiced compelling all three of them—though I insisted on asking permission first. Simon said we could use them to fight wraiths. I wasn’t sure how I felt about using innocent ghosts against wraiths, especially as they weren’t as strong or as flesh-hungry as wraiths, but Simon didn’t have any time for my second thoughts.
He barked at me like a drill sergeant—this wasn’t about me and my dainty concerns, he said, this was about stopping Neos before he rose to his full power in the realm of the living. Simon was brutal. Despite his bony body and horn-rimmed glasses, he drove us mercilessly.
By six o’clock, we were zonked, dining miserably on tofu steaks and grilled vegetables in the dining room. Part of the training regimen. And for the record, Limoges china and antique silver did not make this palatable.
During the next week, we fell into an exhausting routine. School, training, Buddhist monastery food, then school and training again. One evening, I woke in the middle of the night to a tingling in my fingers. I blinked away the scattered memories of a dream: the beautiful woman with short dark hair, wide eyes, and red lipstick, whispering in my ear. Lovely words that made me feel safe.
When the tingling in my hand turned to burning, I came fully awake, and saw a ghost at the edge of my bed, clutching my hand. Not the short-haired woman, but a long-haired Latina girl with a sad face.
Panicked, I pulled away, and the ghost put a finger to her mouth. Shhh. Your brother sent me.
I stopped reaching for the power inside me. Who are you? I asked.
That doesn’t matter. She drifted a little higher. Your brother, Max, compelled me to memorize a message for you.
That’s not even possible, sending ghost messages.
Your brother found a way. There are new ways all the time.
Just like Simon had said, the old rules no longer applied. How do I know this isn’t some ploy of Neos’s?
There is a hostile spirit near, the ghost said. But not me. I am compelled to deliver this message. Then you will not see me again.
What’s wrong with texting? I asked. The phone, e-mail …
A wave of luminescence washed over her. This is the message.
Wait—how did he communicate with you? How’d he find me? How do I find him?
But the ghost wasn’t listening. Instead, she spoke in Max’s voice: I wasn’t involved with the ghostkeeper killings, Em. I hope you believe that. Neither were Mom and Dad. We’re trying to defeat Neos, and we don’t trust the Knell. You need to find Neos’s resting place, where his body is buried. Maybe then you can defeat him. Maybe.
Maybe? What am I supposed to do once I find the—
The ghost message spoke right over me: He’s absorbing power from Mom’s amulet, and once he masters that, he’ll master possession. But we think he needs to perform some final rite. He’s afraid to confront you, though, so he’s trying to weaken you first. We think he summoned a—
She stopped, shimmering in the darkness.
“A what?” I said aloud.
We think he summoned a—
“C’mon! Summoned a what? Are you skipping? You’re not a CD. And what do I do once I find his final resting place?”
—think he summoned— The ghost girl grabbed herself around the throat and started squeezing. —summoned a—
Stop! Stop doing that!
I compelled her to stop, but my powers felt weak and dim, and she kept squeezing until her face grew mottled, her eyes bulged in pain, but I couldn’t save her.
A siren, she gasped, and faded away.
I sat there in bed, my hand covering my mouth like some shocked Victorian lady, my heart pounding. After a while, I leaned back against the headboard and thought for a long time about Rachel and her warning about a siren. What could that mean? Could it be worse than a wraith? Impossible. And the poor ghost Max had sent—was she dead?
Then my stomach growled and I stopped thinking. I pulled on my wool sweater and some socks and padded downstairs into the kitchen, hoping for something other than a crust of millet bread.
I found Anatole putting the finishing touches on an ice cream sundae in a fluted bowl, with Celeste setting one place at the table and Nicholas watching me with a boyish grin. With a slight bow, Anatole handed me the bowl with a silver dessert spoon.
You are a god. I was in heaven from the first spoonful. I bet he made the sauce himself. How did you know I was coming?
Nicholas heard you wake. And how could you not be hungry after that shameful meal theez evening?
You don’t have to do what he says, you know.
Celeste shrugged. Iz our duty.
Lukas must be starving, I said, savoring the vanilla ice cream.
Non, Anatole said. He was here not an hour ago, compelling me to make him a zandwich.
And me to run the shower for him afterward, Celeste said.
He made me trot like a horse in circles around his room, Nicholas grumbled.
He’ll regret that, I fumed. He’s gotten away with way too much.
The ghosts smiled in relief and we chatted for a while. I asked them if they knew what a siren was. Anatole had heard of the Greek myth, but Nicholas thought I was talking about the sound on a fire truck. Not at all helpful.
I finished my sundae, and Celeste sent Nicholas to stoke the fire in my room. As I nestled back under the covers, the fear and confusion of the night had mellowed into something warm. The ghosts were a surrogate family to me, always ready with a kind word and dessert. As bad as things got, I needed to remember all the good things, too. Like the fact that I was too busy to miss Bennett.
Okay, that wasn’t a good thing. That was just a lie. If he were here, we could’ve eaten sundaes in the kitchen together. I thought about the little ice cream stand he’d promised to take me to. Memorial Day seemed awfully far away. I wondered what Bennett’s favorite flavor was. I wanted to know everything about him, like if he always got rum raisin.