Indelible (4 page)

“Yara!” Brent cried, as Sophia yanked me out of his arms and onto the floor with a painful thud. I winced as the skin underneath her fingers began to freeze from the inside out with a cold so intense it burned. I tried desperately to free my arm, but she only tightened her grip, driving the cold deeper.

Brent crouched down beside me and gaped at the purpling marks appearing on my wrist.

“Brent, she’s hurting me,” I said between chattering teeth. Sophia’s fingers wrapped more securely around my wrist.

“Tell me how to get rid of her,” Brent said in a hushed voice, his eyes frantic. He couldn’t see her, and he needed my help. I could handle this. I had to handle this. Vovó wasn’t here. I steeled my nerves, pushing away the pain and burning ache of her cold fingers, and tried to grasp at any of the lessons Vovó had taught me, but I came up blank. I hadn’t been trained for this.

I gritted my teeth. “I don’t know. But she won’t let go.”

Brent’s eyes slid closed, and when they reopened, the panicked look was gone, replaced by a quiet intensity. He stood fluidly and his brown eyes zeroed in on where he knew Sophia must be. With a flick of his wrist, he swirled his fingers in an arc, sending a blast of air tunneling down the hall.

The wind hit her and batted her around, but she didn’t vanish or turn into smoke like Thomas had last year. Brent’s brute force and elemental manipulation might not be enough. Sophia turned toward him, her harsh eyes focusing on Brent as he conjured the storm.

He brought his hands together and pushed one hand palm out toward us, hitting us with another strong gust of air, its strength building to a roar. Wind zoomed past me, ripping the bobby pins from my hair. Sophia’s gauzy dress whipped around her and my hair stung my eyes, obscuring my vision.

The coppery taste of blood blanketed my tongue as my teeth sunk into my bottom lip, biting back a scream of pain. My arm burned as if it had been plunged into a frozen river and I could no longer feel my fingers. Her touch stole the heat from my body, and my brain began to go numb.

The wind suddenly died and I tossed my hair out of my eyes, immediately seeking Brent. He cupped his hands together, like he was holding a ball, collecting the elements for a stronger attack. He pointed one finger at Sophia and the flood of air hit her right in the chest. She lost her footing and took a steadying step to the side, releasing me. Warmth licked through me like a vapor of smoke and I cradled my arm to my chest, limping forward toward Brent.

Brent lowered his hands to reach for me, and the storm immediately ceased. “Where did she go?”

My outstretched fingers were inches from him when Sophia grabbed me from behind, seizing my hair and yanking it hard, ripping a fistful of strands from the scalp.

“Ow!” I yelped when she jerked me back toward her.

Several locks of hair that had torn loose floated to the floor, the dark strands reflecting glimmers of light in their fall. Brent’s eyes darkened, turning almost black as he tracked their descent. He raised his hands and the corridor was instantly in motion again. The windows and mirrors vibrated and the paintings banged against the walls. Sophia glared at Brent, her tawny eyes freezing over. She pulled me closer to her with another fierce tug on my hair. Her other hand slid around my waist and I was trapped in her iron embrace.

“Tell him to stop,” she growled from between clenched teeth.

“No.” I trembled all over, but I pushed away my fright, trying to awaken my inner Vovó, knowing she’d know what to do. “I can help you,” I finally managed.

She laughed. “I’m not the one who needs help!” She pulled me closer, using me as a shield from Brent’s attack. Her cold breath spread across my face.

Brent couldn’t see her, but with my neck twisted at such an unnatural angle, he could tell where she stood. He stretched out his fingers with a determined look and launched a bolt of air so forceful that Sophia and I both staggered back. Her grip loosened enough that I was able to break away, and fall to the floor. Sophia lunged at me but stopped suddenly in mid-air, like she had hit a wall. She hung there for a split second before being thrown backwards like a bungee jumper at the end of a cord. She jetted toward me again, but bounced off once more. She raged and snarled like a rabid dog as she came at me a third time. This time the wall wavered a bit and I felt a current of air blow in my face. Brent let out a strained grunt and his upraised arms shook as if he struggled with a heavy weight. Finally I understood what kept her away. Brent. He had created an air-shield around me.

Sophia eyed Brent and I shivered; she had figured it out too. She inhaled deeply, like a vacuum stealing oxygen from the room.

“Brent—” I started to warn, but I couldn’t finish. I coughed; my lungs burned from lack of air. Brent’s face turned red in his struggle to hold the force of his storm and breathe at the same time. Then Sophia’s inhalation stopped. She twisted her mouth in a cruel smile right before she exhaled an icy blast of air straight at Brent.

He staggered as if fighting his way through a wind tunnel. His hair and clothes whipped behind him, and he stumbled backward, slamming against the wall with a groan. Held prisoner by her torrent of air, he struggled to raise his arms against the onslaught, trying to defend himself. He gasped against the air that forced its way down his throat and into his lungs.

I pounded against the shield that separated me from Brent and Sophia, the air rippling against my palms, but Brent’s wall held firm.

“Brent, let me help you!” I screamed, pushing against the barrier.

“No.” Brent’s face twisted in concentration.

I fell onto my side and the beads of my necklace dug into my collarbone. It had failed me for the first time ever, but maybe it could still help Brent. I reached to undo the clasp when Sophia began to flicker like a fluorescent bulb about to burn out. Her stream of air sputtered as her shoulders slumped and her arms dropped to her sides. She sagged against the wall breathing heavily. The feral fury in her eyes faded while her flickering image grew lighter and lighter until it disappeared in a puff of colored smoke that swirled away.

Brent bent over, panting for breath. His hands rested on his knees and his hair fell into his overly bright eyes. The hall, which had roared with gale-force winds only seconds before, now settled into a peaceful calm. My labored breathing came out in loud wheezes. I stared at Brent, my hands pressed against the invisible wall he still held. My wrist burned even worse than before, the sudden warmth of the room making the cold seem deeper, but I tried to ignore it.

“She’s gone,” I called out, my voice sounding too loud in the hall.

Brent let the barrier down and I forced myself to my feet, stumbling toward him. His warm arms engulfed me, his body heat raising mine. I breathed in his scent, savoring the comfort he offered, needing his warmth. I twisted my neck so I could see him. A smear of red from his bloodied nose stood out against his paler-than-normal skin.

“Brent. You’re bleeding.”

He brought his fingers to his nose and grimaced as they came back bloody. He wiped them on his already red-spattered shirt.

“I’m fine. What about you? Are you alright?” he asked, his eyes wandering over me, looking for any sign of damage.

“My wrist and head hurt.” I ran my fingers through my hair and several strands came loose and fluttered to the floor. “I think I have a bald spot.”

He sucked in his breath, squeezing me tighter. “You’re like ice.”

“I know.” I felt like I had taken a dip in liquid nitrogen. My wrist still throbbed and I lifted up the sleeve of my suit jacket to find a near-black, hand-shaped bruise that circled my wrist, each of Sophia’s finger perfectly outlined on my skin.

Brent did a double take when he saw it. “The ghost did this?” I nodded numbly. “I didn’t know ghosts were capable of that.”

“Neither did I.” I groaned. It was only my first day back and I was already in over my head. I needed Vovó, but I wouldn’t be able to talk to her until she landed tomorrow. She would know why the ghost had been able to touch me.

I shivered as I remembered the way Sophia’s hand had reached through my body and grabbed my spirit. I felt sick— tainted— to think of another soul sharing my body, even briefly. I wondered if this was what Brent had felt like last year when he had been inhabited by more than thirty souls.

The bells of a nearby church chimed and I counted each gong. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. With each one my pulse calmed and the terror faded, but I still quivered in Brent’s arms.

“So, did your grandma give you any advice for handling a ghost like Sophia?”

“No. I’ve never heard about anything like this.”

He kissed the top of my head. “You’d think she might have mentioned the dangers once or twice, especially considering what happened with Thomas.”

I chewed my lip nervously and winced; I’d forgotten biting into it. “She doesn’t usually have any trouble with ghosts.”

“Never?”

“Not that I’ve seen,” I said. “I still have a lot to learn about being a Waker.”

“She should have prepared you, Yara. This wasn’t your fault.”

I nodded even though I didn’t agree. I knew I could have studied harder this summer. Still, I couldn’t help thinking that this didn’t bode well for my senior year.

Chapter Three

Brent adjusted his tie and messed up the lapels of his suit coat to hide the blood. He ran his fingers through his hair until it returned to its normal, artfully-messed style and then used a clean part of his shirt sleeve, one that would be hidden under his coat, to clean up the rest of his blood. I found a mirror, blotted away the blood on my lip and smoothed down my wind-tossed hair. We deemed ourselves presentable and turned back toward the stairs only to find two rather large men blocking our path.

“Is everything okay up here?” One of the big men asked. They both wore serious expressions and dark suits. If I had to guess, I would say they were security. They studied Brent and me and looked around the silent hallway. “We thought we heard something.”

“Oh, that was the air-conditioning vent. It made a horrible sound,” Brent said.

The two men exchanged an unreadable look before one of them turned back toward us. “Students are not supposed to be up here.”

“Sorry.” I grabbed Brent’s arm, slipped past the two beefy men and led him down the stairs. When we reached the first floor I said, “Let’s find Steve and Cherie and get out of here.”

Brent nodded and we went into the backyard to look for them. A tapping on the microphone had us all looking toward the platform at the far end of the event tent as Headmaster Farnsworth took the stage. Like cattle being corralled into a pen, the crowd pressed forward. Brent and I had no choice but to go with the flow or be trampled in the process. My adrenaline had worn off and my body began to shake. Brent noticed. He grabbed two glasses of sparkling cider and pushed one of them into my hands.

Our headmaster smiled out at the audience, and began a long-winded speech about the importance of the internship program, thanking all of the people who had planned the event. I didn’t care what he had to say. All that mattered to me was leaving the house before Sophia came back.

The headmaster’s voice droned on in the background, “I’m pleased to turn the stage over to Bryan Pendrell, our Board President and CEO, and the sole living descendant of our school’s founder.”

That got my attention. I’d never seen Bryan Pendrell except for his picture on the school website. Everyone clapped while Mr. Pendrell stepped up to the microphone. He appeared to be in his mid thirties with wavy, dark brown hair, a smile far too white to be natural and dark eyes. He dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief and then clutched the sides of the podium.

“Um, thank you ah, for coming tonight. We’re glad we uh, had such a great turn out.” He cleared his throat again as he leaned closer to the mike and I cringed at the static feedback.

“Wow, he never would have passed Mr. Cooper’s public speaking class,” Brent commented. “This is painful to listen to. He even makes your public speaking skills look good.”

I almost choked on my apple cider. Brent laughed as he took my glass from my hand.

“Jerk,” I said between coughs, patting my chest. Brent winked when he handed me back my drink.

A scattering of polite applause erupted around the tent and I tuned back in to Mr. Pendrell’s speech. He had paused to dab sweat from his forehead and glanced off to his left as though searching for someone. “When Dr. Marks, uh, our assistant headmaster left us last year, we were um, saddened, but we were ahh, lucky enough to have lured uh, enticed Mr. Jamie Crosby to fill that position . . .”

“Wow. They got Crosby to come back? The man is a legend.” Brent took a drink, his eyes now glued to the stage.

“ . . . to take the vacated position. As most of you know he um, lobbied for the, p . . . pa . . . passage of the new um, education proposition that you will all vote on um, during the next election, and had even ah, deferred, his own campaign to help out his alma mater. We—”

In an act of mercy for all involved, Mr. Crosby cut off the rest of the introduction. “Thank you Bryan.” He patted the CEO on the shoulder and took control of the mike. He gave us all a big smile. “I’m grateful to be back at Pendrell Academy. This school shaped me into the man that I am, the man my father wanted me to be. I won’t take too much time up here. I’m not a very good speaker and I don’t want you get any ideas with the tomato appetizers I saw being carried around. I never looked good in red.” He laughed a little, the rest of the crowd chuckling along with him. His little joke fell flat to me. The man was polished and comfortable in front of a crowd, and I didn’t buy the humble, self-deprecating act.

“I’m happy to be able to work with the seniors this year and head up the Alumni Internships. We have a talented group of students here. I hope that through the year those talents grow and flourish.”

More applause. Mr. Crosby waited until it died down before he spoke again, going on to the importance of the internship program. When he was done, Mr. Crosby bestowed on us a toothy smile, one that could charm a snake. The man had a great career ahead of him in Washington. At the end, Crosby and Pendrell shook hands for the cameras, and then exchanged a look that seemed to communicate a mutual feeling of loathing.