Surrender (21 page)

“Good,” he said seriously. “I need to talk to you.”

He scooped up his pack, followed me into the kitchen, and sat in the breakfast nook, watching me make us chai.

Anatole and Celeste were conspicuously absent, and I wasn't sure if I'd subconsciously compelled them to disappear, wanting the time alone with Bennett, or if they'd just recoiled from his Asarum-tinged power.

I remembered the first time we'd been in the kitchen together, after Bennett had dumped me alone in the museum with only the ghosts for company. Which in his mind was fine, because he thought I knew I was a ghostkeeper. I remembered how relieved I'd been when he'd reappeared a few mornings later, scowling at my minuscule, slutty uniform. And how pleased I'd been to know that he was secretly attracted.

What I didn't know was that it would all turn into
this
, this driving need to love him. Was it destiny? Or just that I only made sense in his arms, and he only made sense in mine? I loved my other guy friends—Coby and Harry and Lukas—but only Bennett made me feel like
this
.

I boiled the loose tea in a pan on the stove, and the smell of ginger and cinnamon permeated the room. I poured milk into two cups and used the steamer on the espresso machine to froth it. He smiled at me, and his smile made me a little dizzy—and I burned my finger on the steamer.

“Ow!”

Bennett jumped up from the nook and kissed my finger, then led me to the sink. I leaned against him, my back to his front, as he ran my hand under cold water. I could
smell the chai, both familiar and foreign, and felt the heat of his body behind mine, the chill of the water on my fingers, as I melted into him.

I lifted my lips to his and we kissed like that until the tea almost boiled over on the stove and my fingers turned to ice. I poured the steeped tea into the frothy milk and added huge dollops of honey. I handed Bennett one of the mugs, and we sat together at the table, stirring our chais. We sat there for an hour, and he drank the whole cup of tea, which made me infinitely happy. But eventually I took his stained hand and asked, “Are you strong enough yet?”

He didn't answer for a moment, mourning the return to reality, I thought. Then he said, “To kill Neos? I'll never be strong enough to kill Neos, no matter how much Asarum I take.”

“Then stop!”

He tucked my hair behind my ear. “Are
you
strong enough to dispel him?”

“I don't know, I—yes? No.” I shook my head. “I've never really beat him, you know. I've never dispelled him, and this time—”

“Yes?”

“This time is the last.” And I blurted the thing I'd been scared of, and had shared with nobody else. “What if he possesses me? What if I'm not strong enough to stop him? I don't even have my dagger.”

To my surprise, he hardly reacted. “Emma, why can't you understand? I'm doing this because I won't let that happen.”

It helped, having him say that. Helped me feel less scared. But it also made me wonder. I leaned against him as I asked, “Bennett, has it occurred to you that I'm not worth it? You're only twenty. There's got to be another girl out there who'd make you happy. And you wouldn't have to do this to yourself.”

“There are only two things in my life that I'm sure of,” he said. “One of them is you.”

I was almost too afraid to ask. “What's the other?”

He gave me a look I couldn't decipher. “That what I'm doing is necessary.”

“What? What's necessary? Is this—is this the secret Simon thinks you have? Tell me what you're planning.”

He kissed me lightly. “I'm going back to the Knell. But when the time comes, I'll be here with you. It's going to be okay, Emma.”

After he left, I thought about that final kiss. It didn't feel like he had a secret. It felt like he'd been saying good-bye.

I can't decide
, Coby said.
Did he leave you happy or sad?
He was staring out my bedroom window at the front drive, and must have seen Bennett drive away.

A little of both
, I admitted. Not wanting to discuss it, I said,
Did you manage to get closer to Neos? Learn anything new?

The Beyond is weird. I can't get used to it
. He gave me a look.
I'm glad I don't have to
.

Reminding me that he expected me to dispel him when this was all over.
Well, did you learn anything about his ashes? Or about Rachel? Did you see her?

No, but they're together. At least, there are whispers of her—I can't tell if she's really
with
him, or just along for the ride. You know how ghostkeepers get when they linger
.

Not really
.

Crazy. Jumbled and confused, like a tangle of wires. But she wasn't lying, his ashes are definitely at Thatcher
.

I sighed. This wasn't helping.
You don't know where?

No
, he admitted.
He wants to possess you, but he's afraid
to attack you openly. He's got some plan with your ring and his ashes; they're like … symbols
.

Talismans
, I said.
That's what they called my mother's amulet
.

Yeah. The ring will give him power, and I'm not sure, but I think he needs his ashes to possess you. You're Emma Vaile, he can't take you the normal way
.

Ashes
…., I said, lost in thought.

What?
Coby drifted closer.

I almost told him about the vision with Neos and Bennett, but instead said,
It just reminds me of this dream I had in San Francisco before I had any idea I was a ghostkeeper. Of a smoky man made of snakes, inside my house; he was … The snakes were rising from my dad's collection of funeral urns
.

Your dad collects funeral urns?

I almost laughed at his expression.
He's an antiquities-dealing ghostkeeper. But that's not the worst part. When I brushed my teeth the next morning, there were ashes in my mouth
.

Like dead people's ashes?
he asked.
That's just gross
.

No kidding. I still don't understand how they got there. I just hope the dream wasn't prophetic
.

Do you get those?
Coby asked.
Prophetic dreams?

I thought about my vision in the Thatcher playing field, of Neos standing triumphant while Bennett drained my power. What was Bennett planning?
I hope not
.

I woke early, feeling antsy, and tossed and turned for a while. As I lay there thinking about ashes and dreams and
Bennett, I heard the faint hint of music. Sounded like a Bach cello piece, one of my dad's favorites. I got out of bed and followed the music down the hall, half hoping that my dad was surprising me with a visit.

The sound came from the open door of Mrs. Stern's office, and I stepped in, still wearing my flannel pj's. Mrs. Stern sat behind her desk, typing on her laptop. She was beautiful and imperious, wearing all black, her dark hair slicked back into its sleek ponytail. The thought of her checking her Facebook feed almost made me smile.

“Are you all right, Emma?”

“I heard the music and thought it was maybe my dad.” I tried to give her a reassuring smile. “I'm fine.”

She looked at me more closely. “Are you sure?”

“I—I don't know what to do, I—” Then I was crying, ugly gulping sobs that I expected would make her regret she'd ever asked the question.

Except she just said, “Oh, dear. Come here.”

I went to her and she enveloped me in a hug. She led me to the yellow couch under the window and cradled me until I finally got the tears under control and settled into that weird hiccupping breathy noise you make when you're a little kid.

She handed me a tissue. “Do you want to tell me what's happened?”

I shook my head, then told her anyway. It helped to unload about my feelings for Bennett—even if it was a little weird telling his mother. And I explained I would never get over my guilt in Coby's death and that he wanted
me to dispel him, and about being haunted—literally—by my dead aunt and the man who tried to kill me. “And all the kids at school. How am I supposed to keep them safe?”

“I don't know,” she said, after a moment. “That all … sucks.”

Enough that I wanted to stuff my face with comfort food. She caught me eyeing the breakfast tray on the coffee table. A white coffee cup held the remains of frothy milk and espresso, and there was one half-eaten croissant and another whole one.

“Are you hungry?” Mrs. Stern asked, offering me the plate.

“A little.” I grabbed the croissant and took a perfect, flaky-buttery bite. “Oh, my God.”

She smiled. “I know. Anatole gives me two, because he knows I love them.”

“I'm sorry,” I said around a mouthful. “I stole your second one.”

“It's better this way.” She ran a hand over her flat stomach.

Raised voices sounded in the hall; Natalie and Lukas were arguing over the bathroom. “It takes me five minutes to shower,” Lukas grumbled. “You can't let me go in first?”

“Why should I?” Natalie said. “I was here first.”

“Because you take forty minutes to get each strand of hair perfect, then you stare at yourself in the mirror for an hour.”

“At least I don't spend that long over the three-course breakfast Anatole makes me special every morning.”

“Why don't we just shower together?” Lukas snapped. “That's what you
used
to like.”

“Shut! Up!” Natalie said, venomously.

I looked at Mrs. Stern. “And I thought all the fake politeness was bad. Should I go talk to them?”

“No,” she said, standing. “I think that's my job.”

She crossed to the door and leaned her head out. “Natalie, I just bought a shampoo that I'm not sure about. I'd love your opinion. Would you mind showering in our bathroom?”

Silence from the hallway.

“It's Aveda,” Mrs. Stern tempted her.

“That would be wonderful,” Natalie said politely, and I watched her sashay past the office door on her way to their bathroom.

“Thanks, Mrs. S,” Lukas called out before slamming the bathroom door.

I stood, shoving another bite of croissant in my mouth. “I should get ready for school.”

“Wait,” Mrs. Stern said. “Sit down.” She sat next to me and twisted her wedding ring in a circle around her finger. “I haven't been fair to you, Emma. It took me a long time to admit you weren't responsible for Olivia's death. And Bennett … well, I'd hoped your feelings for each other would fade, but they haven't, and I see now that they won't. His father and I made some unpopular choices ourselves.”

“Mr. Stern's parents didn't want him losing his ghostkeeping powers?”

“Nobody wanted him to lose his powers,” she said.

“Do you ever think you chose wrong?” I swallowed. “Does he?”

“I …” She glanced away, then turned back and clasped my hands. “You'll never get over the guilt. But you'll never get over the love, either.”

I walked to school with Natalie. She didn't want to wait for Lukas to finish breakfast, so we'd started off together. It was snowing again, a light flurry that wasn't supposed to amount to much. I buttoned my coat and draped myself in the faux-fur hood. I liked how peaceful it felt. The snow seemed to muffle the ambient noise of the world, though not the crunching of the peanut-butter toast Celeste had handed Natalie at the door.

“It's good,” she said around a mouthful. “Want a bite?”

“No, thanks. I already had one of Mrs. Stern's croissants.”

She raised an eyebrow, and I told her about our conversation. “What did she mean, ‘You'll never get over the love'? Why couldn't she just have said, ‘Yeah, it's worth it'? Instead she leaves me totally confused about whether I want to feel guilty my whole life for stealing his powers or be miserable if I leave him, because I'll never stop loving him.”