I pick a yellow dandelion and play with its petals. It always seemed strange to me that these bright yellow dots of sun are considered weeds.
After a few minutes, a plane flies overhead and with its sound comes the sensation I’ve been waiting for. I feel a jolt, a charge, and a rush of energy. Despite the fact that I expected this, fear starts to creep into my skin. The atmosphere feels suddenly cold as ice, like a frost has fallen over me. An August freeze in Charleston? Not likely. Then I hear a rumble, like approaching thunder.
The sky darkens; the sun is hiding behind a fast-approaching storm cloud. Before I can even stand, the heavens open up and a hard rain begins to fall, drenching me and the hallowed ground at my feet. A flash of lightning streaks across the clouds, illuminating the silhouettes of two figures who are striding toward me with purpose and determination.
Reena. Leo.
I look to where the van is parked, down the hill and across the street. My friends should be safe.
This is good. The poltergeists don’t have a body to take, and I can fight them off. I know I can. I practiced at the bookstore—I am capable of a lot in these high-energy spots. As I rise to meet them, I wonder at the fact that not very long ago, I thought these two were my friends. I even considered them more helpful than Thatcher when I was haunting, especially when they showed me how to manipulate energy to touch and control the weather. But it was all wrong—it was the wrong method for the wrong reasons.
I straighten my back and give them a smile that I hope is convincingly confident.
When they get within a few feet of me, I’m surprised at how clearly I can see them. Their bodies look almost as solid as mine—their eyes glow with an energy that surprises and intimidates me.
“I knew this was a vortex,” I say under my breath.
“What was that, Callie?” asks Reena, her shiny black hair dry and full, despite the sheets of harsh rain all around us.
“This spot,” I say. “It’s a vortex.”
Leo laughs. “She’s learned a lot,” he says. Then he turns to me. “Of course, Callie. Our bodies are buried here, aren’t they? The bodies of ghosts like us have powerful energy, even after death.”
“Poltergeists like you, you mean,” I say. “And I doubt there’s much left of your bodies.” Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. “Whatever’s crumbling under the ground there won’t look like your yearbook photo anymore after ten years.”
Reena grins at me, big and broad. It’s a smile that I’ve seen before, but I’d forgotten just how enchanting—and bone-chilling—it is. “I’m not worried about my old body,” she says wickedly. “I’ll have a new one soon enough. Someone young, someone energetic . . . someone like—”
“Don’t you say her name!” I snap at Reena.
“You’re not afraid,” she says, a hint of admiration in her voice. “I’ve always liked that about you. It’s endearing. Stupid, but endearing.”
I snort, letting her insult roll off me like the raindrops, which I know are soaking my skin. I barely feel them. My energy is heightened, my physical body ready. They may be using this vortex for its powers, but I’m using it too. And I’m stronger.
I see two more figures emerging from the rain. A girl with a mass of wild curls, a lanky guy with a long face—Delia and Norris, more poltergeists from the Prism. Souls who can’t let go of what they used to be.
“What a reunion,” says Delia, waving at me. I’d almost think she was being friendly, if it weren’t for the steely glint behind her eyes.
“Together at last,” says Reena in a singsong voice. “Soon we’ll all be able to sit and enjoy the sunshine like Callie was doing a minute ago, basking in the warmth of a late summer day, smelling the grass and the flowers in the air.”
Her eyes move to the dandelion that I realize I’m still holding. “How sweet,” she says. “Planning to leave that on Thatcher’s grave?”
I turn away, not wanting to engage in her taunting. I know she’s baiting me. The question is, what for?
“Eli, isn’t that a pretty flower?” Reena is addressing Leo . . . and I’m confused for a moment.
“It is, Carson,” he says. “So very vibrant and alive.”
And then I know what they’re doing.
“You’ll never take them fully,” I say.
“Of course we will.” Reena’s voice doesn’t contain a hint of doubt.
“Over my dead body.”
Reena shrugs. “If it has to be that way,” she says. “But I’d rather we stay friends. Best friends, even. Right, Cal?”
I feel anger swell within me. My eyes burn with rage.
“So emotional,” says Reena, her dark ponytail swishing to the side to reveal the charred moon on her neck, the one that marks her as a poltergeist who can’t merge with Solus. “Your energy is still strong, but anger makes you weaker.”
I snarl at her, sick of her talking. “You have no idea what I’m capable of,” I say.
Leo laughs, a big hearty guffaw that rivals the rolling thunder. As he does, I see more of them, more poltergeists, marching toward us. The dark marks on their necks move in unison as they climb. I try to count them—one, two, four . . . ten at least. My heartbeat quickens.
“There it is,” says Reena, smiling. “I knew the fear would hit.”
I glare at her. “I’m not afraid.”
“You should be,” she says, gesturing to the ghosts around her. “We have an army of followers, ghosts who don’t believe in Solus. Leo and I will show them how to achieve possession, one body at a time.”
“I’ll fight back. I’ll fight every one of you.”
“We’re not here to fight you, Callie,” she says, her eyes darkening. “We’re here to take you.”
The last thing I see is her hand reaching out toward me, snatching the space between us with the speed of a snake’s strike.
In a swirl of light and color, I lose consciousness. Something inside me latches on, though. It’s like I’ve thrown a rope around a high peak to keep myself tethered to my own body even as I feel my soul spinning into somewhere dark and remote, a cavern in the farthest reaches of the deepest ocean depths. I’m going down, down, down, past the limits of space and time, and I feel more distant from my body than I was when I was nearly dead. But there’s a part of me that knows I’m still holding on.
“She can’t take you this way. . . . Hold fast, Callie.” I can hear a voice, but not with my ears. Something inside my soul echoes, rumbles and shakes, like I’m reading the vibrations on a train track. I’m a cello whose strings are being played perfectly. I hear, I understand, I do.
And suddenly the heavy boulder that was crushing me, the suffocating blanket I was underneath, nearly swallowed by, is thrown off. I’m uncovered, my eyes adjusting to the bright sky, which no longer rages with a storm but is instead cloudless and sunny, as it was in the initial minutes I spent here.
The first thing I see glimmering in the new sunlight is the ring. It’s on Leo’s finger. I lunge for it without thought, grasping its metal in my hand and crying into the sky, “Thatcher!”
In what seems like less than a heartbeat, the Guides arrive.
A tall brunette Guide named Sarah takes Delia; they’re circling each other like they’re in a boxing ring, but it’s energy that they’re using to fight. I see blasts of light fly between them, and I realize that these flashes are coming from all over the hill atop this cemetery. I’m standing in the middle of a giant vortex, and suddenly there’s a hell of a fight going on. Guides and poltergeists, dueling with energy. The Guides outnumber them, I see as I quickly assess the scene. But the poltergeists are wilder, more willing to do anything to win.
Leo shakes me off of his hand and moves in another direction—he still has the ring! I try to see where he’s going but when I turn my head I feel the strain of a monster headache. I attempt a step but my legs feel weighed down and leaden. My eyes take a minute to catch up with my gaze; the scene blurs and then sharpens.
I spot an
older man, a living man, holding an umbrella above his head as he starts to climb the hill toward us, and a poltergeist advances in his direction. They’re not above hurting the living; this I know for sure. But a short, stocky Guide, Ryan, rushes in and diverts the man with his energy—I see a translucent shield emanating from Ryan, causing the man to slowly move away from the vortex, out of the poltergeists’ reach. Then Ryan turns toward the evil ghost and begins to fight.
It feels like I’m standing in the middle of an energy tsunami, being pushed and pulled in every direction.
And then I see him—Thatcher. Leo is locked in battle with him, their energies colliding in a firestorm of darkness and light. I can hardly tell who’s who, and I race to help, my body moving at a pace that starts slow, but picks up quickly.
“No!” says Thatcher when I get closer. He holds Leo at bay for a moment and shouts, “Finish her!”
Reena. I look back to where I was, and I see her lying on the ground, starting to crawl to her knees. She’s weakened after trying to possess me, her energy depleted. I can feel my own life force returning now; the weighed-down feeling has left my legs. I know I’m capable of doing what he’s asked.
“You’re sure?” I say this to Thatcher quietly, and he shouldn’t be able to hear me, not in the midst of this chaos. But he does. And what I’m asking him is this: Does he truly want me to try to destroy the girl Reena once was? His first love, the one who died by his side.
He seems to understand all of this, even in my whisper, and he nods without hesitation.
I lunge at her. She’s barely on her feet when I reach her, but she manages to dart to the side, zigzagging among the headstones as I track her. I am strong and full of energy, but my physical body has to move around objects, over the ground in a way that her soul doesn’t—it holds me back. Reena’s weakened but not weak by a long shot, fast and cunning as she avoids my pursuit, dodging each move I make as if she sees it coming.
But then, as Reena swerves to the right when I reach for her arm, she hesitates. It’s a millisecond, but it’s enough. I make contact, and when I grab her, a deafening crack echoes in the air. I can feel myself using her the way she used me in the Prism, taking her energy and making it my own.
Ryan falls next to me then, thrown down by a blow from poltergeist Norris, and my hold on Reena is broken. She wrangles her arm out of my grasp, and she turns to run, but my reflexes are on point in this moment—and I’m close enough to do what Dylan showed me. My arms flash out at the speed of light, and they jolt through her soul, maiming her energy field. I know it worked—her entire being is rocked.
She looks back at me, shocked, and her face fades slowly in front of me. As she pales, so low on energy, she whispers, “Carson is mine.” And then she flickers, almost invisible.
“Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”
The line from a poem by Dylan Thomas, one my father loves, runs through my mind as I watch her disappear, this girl who has caused me so much pain and fear.
In that instant, Leo lets out a yowl, eerie and earsplitting. It rallies the poltergeists, and they all start fading, exiting through portals and retreating into another dimension.
When they’re gone completely, I look down to see where I’m standing, what made Reena pause when she’d been so artfully avoiding my pursuit.
REENA BELL, BELOVED DAUGHTER AND SISTER.
Her grave.
I look away before any emotion can hit. I didn’t kill Reena Bell. I fought off a poltergeist who was hell-bent on destroying me.
I’m left standing with Thatcher and a band of Guides, tired from the clash but still strong. I can see them in full color, their auras blazing in the sunny skies—their energy visible as it ebbs and flows between their spirits, uniting them.
“I can’t believe we weren’t able to capture them,” Ryan says, shaking his head.
“Their powers were more intact than I thought they’d be,” Sarah replies.
“Yes, but we’ve dealt them a hard blow,” Thatcher reassures them. Then he moves to my side, his eyebrows arching with concern. “Did she hurt you?” he asks.
“No. But I feel . . . violated,” I say. “The possession made me feel completely out of control.” I look up at him. “But a voice . . . it coached me back. It sounded like . . . my mom.”
“That’s your inner strength,” he says. “You may recognize it as your mom, but it’s you, Callie.”
“Did I . . . kill Reena?” I whisper.
“No, not kill,” he says. “But this battle definitely rattled them and depleted their energy reserves. Especially Reena, and that’s key. Without her and Leo brainwashing the others, we can help the rest of them see the light, get them to change.”
He gazes at me with wonder in his eyes. “You were amazing.”
The other Guides gather around me, still glowing from the fight—despite Ryan’s disappointment, it’s clear that they’re counting it as a win.
“Does this mean they’re . . . gone?” I ask, still unsure of what just happened, and a little shaken by Reena’s parting words.
“It won’t be long before they’ll have to come back to the Prism now—I’m sure of it. We’ll sense it the second they reenter, and then they’ll be our problem. They won’t bother anyone on Earth, ever again,” Thatcher says.
The rest of the Guides take this news with sober faces as Thatcher motions to the bottom of the hill. I know they’ll be responsible for the poltergeists once they get back to the Prism. They’ll have to make sure they don’t ever return to Earth to finish off their sick plans. It doesn’t seem fair. There must be a way to banish them for good. But if there were, wouldn’t Thatcher and the Guides already know that?
“Hold out your hand,” says Thatcher. I do, and he drops his grandfather’s ring into my palm. “Here.”
“Just in time.”
“You won’t need it for long,” he says. “They’ll be running scared tonight and now their energy is way down. I could feel it in the way Leo was fighting. My guess is that they’ll have to return to the Prism by tomorrow.”
“Tonight’s their last chance at possession. . . .”
“Right. So get to the bookstore,” says Thatcher. “Call your dad, tell him you’re with Carson, whatever you need to, but stay there with her, and Eli, too. It isn’t safe for you to be anywhere else tonight.”
I smile slightly. It would be easy to do what Thatcher says.
But I don’t think I’m going to.
“Callie . . .” Thatcher’s voice is suspicious. “Call your father.”
“He’s away tonight on business,” I tell Thatcher. “He won’t know I’m not home.”
“Good,” says Thatcher. “My energy needs replenishing. I have to go back to the Prism until my levels are back to normal. . . . Do you understand?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Use the ring to call to me if you see any signs of the poltergeists, but stay at Dixon’s, out of danger.”
“Okay,” I say. I stand there, lingering in this vortex where I can see him and hear him, almost as if he’s alive. If I focused enough energy I could touch his face, just for a second.
“Callie,” he says softly, sadness in his eyes, “go.”
I nod, and I walk slowly down the hill.
When I get to the van, all of my friends are standing outside, practically bursting with emotion.
“Callie, are you okay?” Carson gasps, coming up to me and taking my hand.
“I’m fine,” I tell her, but I watch her eyes run over my body in shock. I look down at myself and I realize that I’m soaked from the rainstorm; my clothes are tattered and covered in mud. I’ve been so inside my head that I haven’t even felt my physical body or taken note of the disastrous shape I’m in.
“Let me get you some clothes,” says Nick, opening up the back doors and bringing out a black hoodie. “This is all I have.”
I duck into the van and take off my wet, dirty T-shirt. Carson follows me and whispers,
“Are you really okay?”
I do a once-over of my body, too, to be sure. I’m filthy, but incredibly unbruised. “I’m fine, don’t worry,” I say, zipping the sweatshirt over my bra.
Then the rest of my friends get back into the van, and they all look at me with the same question in their eyes.
“I fought the poltergeists,” I tell them.
“All we could see was a rainstorm on the hill,” says Dylan, his eyes as wide as saucers.
Then they listen, rapt, as I explain the feeling I had being possessed, the way Reena took me before I struck back. “I used your move,” I tell Dylan. “I don’t think I’ve ever hit anyone so fast.” Then I hold up the ring. “And I got this back.”
Dylan pumps a fist in the air. “Amazing!”
“You’re like a superhero!” screams Carson.
“Guys, this isn’t a video game,” says Nick.
“He’s right,” I say. “There were at least a half dozen Guides fighting, all in hand-to-hand combat with poltergeists who have no conscience.”
“Wow,” says Carson. Dylan’s eyes are blazing with emotion—excitement, fear . . . I can’t tell. Nick just leans over the middle console and gives me a hug. There’s nothing romantic in it, but it’s full of comfort and protection.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help,” he says.
“You are helping. Just by being here,” I whisper, squeezing back tighter.
This embrace, this physical connection, is something Thatcher can’t give me. It’s something I need from Nick, because even if he’s not my love anymore, he’s still one of the people I care about most in the world.
We stay like that for another few seconds, and then I back up into my seat. “We still have work to do. The Guides believe the poltergeists only have one night left before they’ll have to return to the Prism. But I want to banish them for good before morning.”
Dust to Dust Page 19
