Indelible (28 page)

DJ had me cradled to his chest, his forehead wrinkled in concern. He jiggled me a bit. “Cupcake, you need to stay awake. You’re scaring me.”

I smiled weakly up at him from what felt like a long way away.

“Yara?” he said, worry infusing his words. “Yara, say something!”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” I croaked out. Then I promptly vomited on his shoes and passed out again.

Chapter Fourteen

My eyelids felt like they’d been super-glued shut as I struggled to open them. The world was too bright and I had to flutter them against the harshness of the light until they adjusted and I could open them fully.

I lay in the hospital, in a bed, surrounded by a blue curtain. I sat up and my stomach rolled. A bucket was thrust under my face just in time to catch the vomit that involuntarily erupted from my stomach.

I groaned in general distress.

“You look like crap, Cupcake,” DJ said by way of greeting. He was the one holding the bucket.

I started to flop back onto the bed but he took my shoulder with his free hand and helped me recline slowly. “You got about a dozen stitches on your scalp and you have a concussion. You need to be careful.” He set down the vomit bucket.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He settled back into his chair. “You seem a lot more alert this time.”

“This time?”

“You’ve been conscious off and on since you got here.

“Oh.” I didn’t remember that at all.

“They let you in to see me?” My throat burned. “Water, please.”

DJ poured some water out of a plastic pitcher on the table beside my bed and handed it to me. “I told them I was your brother.”

“Thanks.” I knew I had a snappy comeback in me somewhere but I couldn’t think straight. I was saved from having to come up with one by the entrance of my mom and Vovó, who rushed in, each claiming a hand. Mom had been crying. Her mascara was dribbling down her cheeks.

“You’re okay,” mom whispered, her complexion ashen.

“Yes, DJ found me.”

“Thank you for calling us, DJ.” Mom gave him an adoring look. “We are so glad you let us know she was here.”

“You called my mom?”

“I got the number out of your phone. I know you wanted me to leave you in Cherie’s care but I couldn’t do that. I was too worried.” He stood. “Cherie doesn’t even know yet. I brought you straight here.”

“Thank you for taking care of her.” Mom reached out her free hand and patted him on the shoulder in a maternal way.

His chest puffed out. I was grateful for his help but I felt the need to make my mom aware he wasn’t some knight on a white horse. “You’ve met him before, Mom. Remember Doogie, from elementary school?”

Her face went blank. I could almost see her trying to place the familiar name. Suddenly she smiled. “You were Yara’s first boyfriend, her first crush.” She gave him an indulgent smile and then her look darkened; her indulgent smile vanished. “You’re the one who threw the rock at her.”

Her expression appeared torn, like she couldn’t decide if her gratitude for his help today outweighed the tears he caused years ago. Finally she gave him a smile, though not as bright as it had been moments before. “Well, that was a long time ago. We’re indebted to you. Thank you.”

Vovó glared at him.

DJ rocked back on his heels. “I am very sorry about that. I already apologized to Yara. I’d like to do the same to you. I’m sorry.” He swung his eyes to Vovó. “I’m sorry for ever doubting you or your granddaughter’s abilities. She is amazing.”

Vovó’s glare evaporated. A proud smile replaced it. “She is. You are wise to see it. Thank you for your help.”

Wow. He really played to the judges when he decided to be charming. My opinion of him might have increased at the way he had worked Vovó.

“I’m glad I could help.” His cheeks turned pink. “I’d better go.” He gave me one last smile before he left.

“I was so worried when he called and said you had an accident,” mom said, digging some tissue out of her bag.

“It wasn’t an accident. It was Sophia.”

Mom’s face paled even further. “That ghost? She did this to you?” Her eyes narrowed at my grandma. “Ilma, this can’t go on.”

“I agree.” Vovó sat down on the end of my bed. “Cherie and I have both been doing research and we think we know how we can help Sophia.”

“Really?” I asked. If it didn’t hurt so much to move, I would have clapped my hands together.

“There will be no more ghosts!” Mom said rounding on Vovó. “At least not until she’s taken more time to train with you. Do you hear me?” She hadn’t raised her voice but there was enough steel in there to give me the chills.

“Brooke,” my grandma said, “she can’t run from this. Ghosts are always going to be part of her life. I’ll be there with her when we help Sophia. She won’t be alone. This will be the best way to train her.”

“But this one—” Mom began sniffling.

“Is confused. She needs help.”

“But—”

“I’m here. I can help guide her through it.” Vovó walked to my mom and put an arm around her shoulder. “I’ll keep her safe. Please trust me.”

“I do,” my mother’s words were muffled in my grandma’s shoulder. “It wasn’t like this with Melanie.”

“Melanie and Yara are different.”

Mom nodded. “So I’m learning.”

“You are lucky this challenge has come to Yara and not Melanie.” Vovó rubbed mom’s back in small circles. “Yara is much stronger.” Vovó caught my gaping mouth. “Not a word to your sister.”

I pretended to zip up and lock my mouth and throw away the key.

“Why not just do it yourself?” mom asked stepping back from Vovó and sitting in the chair beside my bed.

My grandma sighed and something in her changed in that moment. My spry, life-filled grandma looked older than I had ever seen her. There were wrinkles I hadn’t noticed and her face had lost some of its rosy glow. “Because I’m not always going to be here and she has to know she is strong enough without me.”

“What?” Mom and I asked at the same time.

Vovó reached out and patted my hand. “Don’t worry, Querida, my time won’t be up for a long while.”

A knock came from the door. Holly poked her head in. “I know you wanted to be near your boyfriend, but isn’t this a little extreme?”

I laughed, having forgotten that Brent and I were in the same hospital. Maybe I could see him while I was here.

Holly small-talked with us as she checked and recorded my vitals. “Now that you’re coherent I’ll see what I can do about getting you out of here.”

v

Mom and vovó went to check me out and pick up my pain prescription. I changed into the clean clothes they had brought for me.

I sat on the end of my bed staring at the wall. Machines whirred, doctors and nurses walked by, and conversations carried in from the halls, when the noise abruptly stopped. I couldn’t move. Out of the corner of my eye I spied a nurse frozen in the act of walking past my room, examining a chart. Someone had projected.

Brent.

My spirit pulled free of my body. I hadn’t even made it to the door when he stepped in front of me. He was still in his hospital gown. He looked pale, but his eyes were bright.

“What are you doing here?”

“Mild concussion.” I angled my head so he could see my stitches. “And more than a dozen stitches.”

“Are you okay?” Brent asked. His eyes swept over me.

“I’ve been better.” I spun my hospital ID bracelet around my wrist. “How are you?”

“Fine.”

“How did you know I was here?”

“Steve called. He didn’t know how you were though.” He examined his fingernail and brought it to his lips. “You’re really okay?”

“Yeah.” We stared at each other.

I took a step toward him.

He took one toward me.

There was still an arm’s length between us.

“What would I have done if you weren’t okay?” he asked in a soft voice. He reached out toward me and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers then trailing softly down my cheek. I lost the ability to breathe. My skin felt alive where he touched me. I turned my head into his palm, my feet and body closing the distance between us. When his hand got to my chin he dropped it to his side. He took a deep breath and stepped back. “What happened to you?”

I missed his warmth.

“It’s a long story that doesn’t really matter.” I clasped my fingers together. “What does matter is that I think I know what’s wrong with you.”

“Really?” His attention focused on me.

“Well, it’s more of a working theory. It’s a pretty big leap.”

“Lay it on me.”

“Okay, first I have a question: Was Neal the one in your family allergic to peanuts?”

“Yes.”

“Was he color blind?”

Brent blinked. “Yeah. How did you know that?”

“It supports my theory.” I rubbed my fingers across my lips. “You know who loved eggs with blueberry syrup?”

Brent shook his head.

“Phil Lawson.”

“Huh.” Brent’s fingernails were instantly near his mouth.

“He also had epilepsy.”

“I think maybe all the spirits Thomas held captive in your body did affect you. Maybe they left a portion of themselves inside you, like a fingerprint on a window. It seems you’ve taken on their cravings and their weaknesses. The color blindness, the eggs, the seizures.”

I watched as he considered, and I saw the moment he got it. “Yara, you’re a genius!”

He threw his head back and laughed. The sound drenched me in longing. I loved his laugh. I missed it. I missed
him
. A lock of his dark, messy hair hung in his eyes. I wanted to brush it away.

“We’ve figured it out.” Then his smiled disintegrated. Brent cursed softly and slumped his shoulders, pinching the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath. “But we still don’t know how to fix it.”

I had overcome my temper a lot in the last year but I couldn’t help but shove his shoulder. He caught my hand against his shoulder. His fingers closed around mine. A sigh escaped my lips. My heart fluttered back in my body. It felt so good to touch him. I was too nervous to look up, too worried that it might not mean as much to him. He brought my fingers to his lips and kissed them before releasing them.

My hand went to my forehead and my mind searched for what I had been about to tell him. Finally, I remembered. “Brent we’re going to figure out how to make you healthy.”

“Again with the optimism.” Brent gave me a half a smile.

“Again with the pessimism.” I stared at his lips, wanting them to smile, for real, wanting to feel them against mine. I forced myself to look away.

“Let’s say this is true. Neal and Phil weren’t the only ones inside me. Thomas was there too.” He sat down on the chair in my room. Brent held his hands out and stared at them, like he had never seen them before. “And he had—” Brent suddenly stiffened before his chin fell to his chest. “Thomas had cancer. He was dying of it when he started the curse.”

He wrapped his arms around himself. His brown eyes darkened and his eyebrows pulled together. “What if it goes beyond medical stuff. I mean, somehow I know about the constellations when I’ve never studied them. I started to like the same foods that Phil did. What if it goes beyond that? He was a murderer. What if I become a murderer like Thomas?”

I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the idea, but the terror on his face stopped me. He was serious. He was worried.

“Brent, no.” I wanted to stroke my fingers along his face to ease the fear painted there. “I know you and that isn’t possible.”

“I want to believe that.” He shook his head. Brent held out his hand and examined it again.

I sat down on a rolling stool and concentrated on it moving until it rolled near Brent’s chair. I stopped it before my knees could bump his. Only a few inches separated us. I wanted to adjust my knee so it would brush his, but those inches seemed like miles. So I forced my legs still and stared at the gap.

“Are there any Waker legends about this sort of thing?”

“I’m not sure, but I’ll start looking.”

“Will you ask your grandma?” He brought his hands together like he was begging. “Please, Yara. Will you ask her?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Thank you.” Some of the tension left his face and his posture relaxed.

“I wanted to find the other victims’ medical history, so we could see what else is looming, you know, but that didn’t work out so well.” I told him about my snooping and how it had led to the fight with Sophia.

“I guess that proves you’re theory right. Why else would they have put the note in all the files?”

“Exactly. Don’t worry; we’ll find out their medical histories some other way.” I took a deep breath before broaching a possibly explosive topic. “Have the Clutch helped you yet?”

Brent shook his head. “Not yet. I have to earn the information.”

“You don’t need them anymore. We know what’s wrong. We can figure out the rest.”

“I do need them.” He held my gaze. “They have a cure, Yara.”

“How do you know?” I asked. “What makes you want to trust them?”

“They let me try a mouthful. It eased the pain, it made me normal, healthy. It wasn’t enough to cure me but it was enough to make me believe them.”

“You’ve been working for them all this time. How much longer until it’s yours?”

Brent’s brown eyes flickered with a strong emotion I couldn’t name. “I failed at the task they gave me. I had the seizure in the middle of it. I was lucky my spirit got sent back to my body when it started. I think I will lose some ground with them after that.”

Brent fidgeted in his chair, looking past me. “Remember before when we were wondering why it took the Clutch so long to recruit us? We wondered what they were waiting for? I think they knew how sick I was going to get and they waited until I was desperate enough to say yes.” He looked miserable, like a wounded animal. I couldn’t see him like that and not offer what help I could.

I scooted closer and rested my hand on top of his. My knee brushed his and he let out a strangled breath. His fingers curled around mine and his brown eyes stared at our hands, a small smile on his lips.

“Thank you.” He wet his lips. “I wasn’t sure you’d ever touch me again.”