inevitablepub Read online

  Their eyes were strange, almost glazed, but at the same time their pupils were expanding and contracting erratically, like they couldn’t focus in the dark. Odd. I’d never seen anything like that before. I’d have to ask Vovó about that in the morning.

  They stood still, like they were waiting for me. Not sure how else to proceed I decided to tell them about coming back tomorrow.

  “Hey, guys. If you come—”

  “This won’t take long, Yara,” the ghost behind me said. He stood so close his icy breath touched my neck.

  My mouth went dry and the rest of my sentence died on my lips. I spun. “H-how do you know my name?”

  “They know your name?” Brent shoved his phone into his pocket, and jumped to his feet, instantly on guard.

  I was afraid to take my eyes off the ghost who’d spoken, but the other two drew nearer. My eyes darted between the three of them trying to decide which was the biggest threat. My hand slid into my pocket fumbling for the herb concoction my grandmother had taught me to make. The one that would make the ghosts vanish.

  “Jamie Crosby says, ‘Hi,’” one of the ghosts said in a hollow voice.

  My eyes widened. “C-Crosby?”

  “Crosby?” Brent’s weather ability kicked in with his adrenaline and the wind picked up, ready to follow his instructions.

  Brent astral projected so he could see the ghosts surrounding me. Time stopped, and the world became a perfect, three-dimensional still life. The neighbors froze in their houses and yards around us. If not for the daily ‘time slip’ capsule, I would have frozen too.

  Without warning, all three ghosts lunged. Waker or not, few people would’ve felt so much as a chill as the ghosts passed through them. Not me. Returneds have a strong connection to the afterlife. Spirits could touch me. And hurt me.

  Two of the ghosts grabbed my arms and the other wrapped his hands around my legs. They all pulled in opposite direction and it felt like they were trying to rip the limbs from my body. My head fell back and a scream tore from my throat.

  I flailed my legs, managing to break one free. With a swift kick I struck one in the stomach and sent him staggering backwards. My feet hit the ground. The one I kicked snarled as he leapt, tackling me. I fell from the grasp of the other two and landed under him with a breath-stealing thud.

  Lights flashed inside my eyes as my head bounced on the unforgiving ground. All three dove at me. One grabbed my shoulders, the other my legs, and the third pinned my arms with his knees, his hands clenched around my neck. Their spectral fingers sunk past my bones and tissue until their souls touched my own. They seared into me, burning like fire, and yanked at my spirit, making my soul rattle against its physical shell.

  I tried to scream, but the spirit’s fingers tightened on my throat. They were trying to pull my soul out of my body, but it was held in place by the Pankurem in the pendant I wore and in the bracelets locked around my wrists. Try as they might, they couldn’t rip me from my flesh.

  Though the Pankurem would keep my body from being taken over by a different spirit, it didn’t protect me completely. They might not be able to rip out my soul, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t kill me.

  I bucked, trying to unseat the one that straddled my chest. He didn’t budge. My lungs burned and my panic rose, my pulse spiking. Dimly I heard Brent, felt his wind swirling around me, trying to push the ghosts back, but they clung to me too tightly.

  I had to do something. My mind raced through Vovó’s teaching, through my training, my skills. Even with my hands pressed into the earth, I couldn’t feel the connection, and tears streamed down my face. Tears.

  Water.

  The air was heavy with humidity and I drew it out of the air, forming it into droplets that deluged upon us in cascading sheets of rain. I sharpened the water into powerful jets directed at my three captors, but it simply flew through them. They tightened their grip on my soul and shook with more force. Black and white dots exploded in front of my eyes and my chest rasped.

  Brent focused the wind, sending a blast of air ripping through them, almost lifting them off the ground. None of them even glanced at him; they were singly focused on me.

  “The powder, Yara! Stop the rain!” Brent shouted.

  I reeled in my panic enough to stop the downpour. My lungs were going to burst; my vision started to blur. Brent sent a cloud of the herbal mix into the air where the spirit strangling me sat. The spirit cringed and screamed before he rippled and vanished.

  Oxygen flooded my lungs and I greedily breathed it in. My hands fumbled inside my pocket and grabbed fistfuls of the powder. It clung to my wet palms. With my herb-covered hands, I grabbed at the wrists of the ghost holding my shoulders. The spirit howled in pain as the mixture made contact and reeled away from me, flickering out of sight, still wailing in agony.

  My pulse throbbed in my head and I still panted for air as I shoved my hands into my pockets and grabbed more of the powder to toss at the ghost at my feet. Before it left my hands, he was lifted into the air, roaring when he lost his grip on me. I blinked as I sat up, trying to understand what had happened.

  Another spirit held the third ghost, shaking him and snarling. The new arrival did something with his hands and the third attacker disappeared, leaving the park eerily silent. The only sound came from me, gasping to breathe. My hands still clutched the herbs, ready to throw the concoction at the new spirit, but when he turned to face me, I recognized him.

  My jaw dropped and the fistfuls of powder fell through my limp fingers, spilling onto the grass.

  “Hello, Cupcake,” he greeted.

  “DJ?” My throat burned and my voice croaked. I rubbed my eyes, double-checking my vision. He stood above me with an expression I couldn’t read. Like Brent, DJ could astral project, but I didn’t think he was strong enough to leave his body a continent away. I didn’t think anyone could do that. His body must be close. But why would he come to Brazil?

  My shoulders tensed. Was Crosby in Brazil? Had DJ followed him here to protect me?

  Brent spun around. “DJ? Talk about good timing. What’s up, man?”

  “Is Crosby here?” I asked in halting words.

  “No, he isn’t.” The tension in my upper body eased, but I didn’t like the look on his face. “That isn’t why I came. Did you get my letter?”

  I nodded and dusted the powder from my hands. Something about him was different but I couldn’t understand what. My hand went to my throat and I winced. I was sure a bruise was already blooming there, and on my shoulders and ankles, too.

  “Yeah, I got it.” I knew from experience how trite my words were going to sound, but I needed to say them anyway. “I’m sorry about Amy.”

  The corners of his mouth tightened.

  “I did it.” He tucked his thumbs into the pocket of his jeans and looked away. “I went after Crosby.”

  I studied DJ again and the pieces started to click into place. My hand covered my mouth to force back the sob I could feel gathering. I knew what was coming. I silently pleaded to be wrong.

  “No,” I quietly begged.

  Let him be projecting. Please let him be projecting.

  “Yes.” DJ stared into my eyes like he could hear my thoughts and smiled sadly. “I’m dead, Yara.”

  Chapter 3

  “No!” I gasped, staring at my childhood friend.

  “You’re dead?” Brent repeated.

  “You’ve always had a morbid sense of humor. Please tell me this is a sick joke,” I begged.

  I burrowed my fingers into the grass and let the blades sting my palms. My eyes skirted around the garden that had been a happy place moments before. It looked the same, but now it would be forever tied in my mind to DJ and his death.

  Brent helped me to my feet. I didn’t know if the tremors running through me were from the physical strain of the attack or DJ’s announcement, but I clung to Brent to stay upright.

  “I wish I were.” DJ drummed his fingers against his thigh like he u
sed to in high school. The familiar habit made my heart even heavier.

  He still seemed so alive. Wheat colored hair still hung in his eyes and freckles still dotted his nose but he’d filled out since graduation and the blonde scruff on his face made him seem older. His emerald green eyes now held a sad wisdom that hadn’t been there before.

  “At least I went out fighting for a cause I believed in.”

  The word came out like a croak, but I managed to ask, “Murdered?”

  DJ nodded.

  “Crosby?” Brent asked, sliding his arm around my waist.

  “Yep.” DJ stuck his hands in his back pockets.

  Brent pulled me even closer. “Did Crosby send those ghosts?”

  Ghosts didn’t simply attack because some random person wanted them to, but somehow these had. I shivered.

  “Yeah, he did.” The rasp in my abused throat made my words barely intelligible. “I think he sent them to kill me.”

  Brent tightened his arms around me. DJ’s lips pressed into a hard line.

  This one act of violence had not only left me bruised and beaten, but had shattered the safe cocoon of Brazil. Crosby knew exactly where I was and how to get to me. Even worse, since I was a Returned, he knew a ghost could kill me, a murder that would never be traced back to him.

  The one thing I’d been born to do, to help spirits, had been used as a weapon by my enemy.

  I went numb. I couldn’t even fathom what exactly this could mean.

  Instead of thinking about that, I turned to the mundane. “Thank you for coming to help, DJ.”

  “Uh, yeah. How did you get here, man?” Brent’s eyebrows pulled together as he looked between DJ and me. “I’ve never heard of ghosts traveling to different continents after they . . . you know . . . ”

  “Die?” DJ smirked. “We usually can’t. But I had something on me that belonged to Yara when I died. I got the idea from Sophia. But I didn’t have access to your hair.”

  My hand involuntarily touched the spot on my head where Sophia had ripped free a handful of hair, tying herself to me.

  “I improvised.” He held up his wrist, displaying a faded and frayed friendship bracelet. One I hadn’t seen since second grade.

  “I can’t believe you still have that thing.” My battered throat didn’t let my voice rise above a whisper. “I thought you would have burned it after I gave it back to you.”

  Brent chuckled. “He gave you a friendship bracelet?”

  DJ fingered the bracelet. “You probably don’t believe me, but you were always important to me. That’s why I gave it to you and why I kept it. I found it in a box of stuff from elementary school. Thought I could use it as a tether in case something happened to me. Figured it couldn’t hurt.”

  “I’m glad it did. You came in handy tonight.” Brent scrubbed his free hand up and down his face. “If you had the bracelet with you, it sounds like you were prepared to…”

  “I knew it was a real possibility.” DJ folded his arms across his chest. “That’s why I went in with a plan B.”

  “If you knew you might die, then you shouldn’t have done it, DJ,” I said.

  DJ shrugged.

  Brent rubbed my arm. “What I want to know is how the ghosts found Yara. And how you knew they were after her.”

  DJ stepped closer, his eyes narrow. “The newspapers said there was a string of break-ins in your parents’ neighborhood, Yara. I managed to get a copy of a few of the police reports from your parents’ house. They said the robber came in through your bedroom window and only took an old jewelry box of yours. That’s what tipped me off.”

  The thought of one of Crosby’s lackeys breaking and entering into my parent’s home made me dizzy with worry. They could have been hurt. What was to keep Crosby from doing it again, or worse? Any of my lingering doubts about going back to California instantly vanished. I needed to protect my family.

  I leaned heavily against Brent. “My mom mentioned that when she called last week, but my old jewelry box was filled with junk.”

  “Junk that could get you killed,” DJ said. “That stuff is how those ghosts tracked you. At least they weren’t able to attach themselves to you like Sophia did.”

  “How did you know to check the police reports or even notice the newspaper article in the first place?”

  DJ rocked back and forth on his heels a few times. “I was keeping an eye on your parents. After Crosby killed Amy I started worrying about them.”

  “You did?” I pressed my hand over my heart. “Thank you so much.”

  DJ looked away, his eyes filled with embarrassment. “I can’t stay long. I’ve been trying to find Crosby and figure out his endgame. I’m going to see if I can track those ghosts and gather more intel. I’ll find you again when I know more.”

  DJ stepped forward and took my hand with his icy fingers. A brief smile touched his lips. “I can still touch you.”

  Brent pulled my hand from DJ’s grasp. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

  “Really, man? How can you be jealous of a dead guy?” DJ smirked at Brent, but the expression didn’t last long. In the next instant he stared into my eyes in deadly earnest. “Don’t trust the spirits, Yara. Your family isn’t the only powerful Waker group out there. Just look at what happened tonight.”

  My eyebrows pulled together. “What does that mean?”

  But DJ was already gone.

  “Ugh. It’s senior year all over again. He comes, gives us some cryptic warning, and then disappears. I hate it when he does that,” Brent muttered.

  So did I. It would make for a very bad night’s sleep.

  Don’t trust the spirits.

  DJ’s warning repeated in my mind the next morning when I arrived at the airport. My lack of sleep added to the tension headache building between my eyes. My first instinct was to avoid any ghosts today, but that only worked in theory. Especially when I had to walk through a major airport.

  Airports held a lot of ghosts and this one was no exception. With Vovó and I together the ghosts would be drawn to us like magnets, sensing us in mere seconds. Vovó and I each held green malachite beads in our hands that helped us hide from their senses.

  “We both need it today to keep you safe,” she had said when she handed it to me earlier. I never thought I’d see my vovó use anything that would make the spirits keep their distance from her. My thoughts must have shown on my face because she said, “Your safety is more important than any ghost. I’m not sure we would know which spirits meant you harm before it was too late.”

  Not a comforting thought.

  We sat in a chair waiting for our flight to board. Vovó’s leg bounced up and down. I knew it went against all she stood for to ignore the lost spirits milling around us.

  I rolled the bead along my palm. “Think we’ll surprise my parents when we walk in the door tonight?”

  Vovó chuckled. “Sim.”

  I thought of my parents as we boarded the plane. I couldn’t wait to hug them again. Hoping secrecy would help us slip past Crosby, I hadn’t told them or Cherie about our decision to return to the States. Knowing what he was capable of, we had to be careful to the point of paranoia. Brent worried Crosby might put a watch on our passports. Could he do that? Would he do it? Brent figured if we’d thought about it, then Crosby had probably too. If he had that kind of pull, there wasn’t much we could do to hide on U.S. soil.

  I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep until the slight whine of the wheels unfolding during our descent woke me from a deep, peaceful rest. My skin itched, the sensation spreading across my arms, torso and legs before vanishing as I yawned and stretched.

  Brent bit his lip to hide a smile.

  Self-conscious, I wiped my mouth, checking for drool, but didn’t find any.

  “What?”

  “I’ve just never seen so much static electricity in someone’s hair.” Brent dug through my purse and held my compact so I could see. Wow. It looked like I’d stuck my finger in a socket. I attempted
to smooth it down but it refused to be tamed.

  Watching my efforts, Brent chuckled. “Let’s see if we can make it all stand up.” He ran his fingers through my hair, creating more static.

  “Stop it.” I pushed his hands away. When our fingers touched, a large spark arced between us.

  “Ow!” he said as I said, “Sorry.”

  “That hurt.” Brent sucked on his fingers and gave me big puppy dog eyes.

  “You deserved it.” After a few more failed attempts to manage my flyaways, I gave up and gathered my hair into a ponytail. I folded my arms across my chest and found the hair on my arm standing on end. Weird.

  The sight of the familiar landscape surrounding LAX airport made me smile. After passing through customs, Brent and I waited for our luggage, while Vovó went to call the American Wakers from a pay phone, to let them know we had arrived.

  When we exited through the sliding glass doors, I took a deep breath of the relatively dry California air. In the distance, the silhouette of palm trees and the familiar shape of the L.A. skyline brought back a flood of memories. An unexpected twinge of joy licked through me. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it until then.

  Standing on the sidewalk, I fingered the scarf I used to hide my bruised neck while I sat on the edge of my suitcase. Brent gave my hand a squeeze and leaned down to kiss my cheek. “It feels good to be back.”

  “It seems wrong getting a rental car here, though. My dad should be picking us up.” I grinned remembering the last time I’d been picked up from Brazil. “Or at least you, Cherie, and Steve. That was probably the best taxi service ever.”

  Brent raised his eyebrow and smirked. “Couldn’t tell you. I don’t remember much except kissing you.”

  Our reminiscences were interrupted by the arrival of the rental car shuttle. The driver helped us with our bags and the three of us climbed inside for the short drive to the rental office. Vovó had us wait outside the building while she picked up our vehicle.

  The screech of tires rang in my ears as a bright red convertible slid to a stop in front of us. Vovó grinned at us from behind the wheel. Brent laughed and gave Vovó a thumbs up as he stowed our bags in the trunk and hopped into the backseat behind me. Vovó tore away from the curb and toward the 105 freeway. Brent whistled the ‘Little Old Lady from Pasadena’ in the back seat.