by Lee Nichols
“Emma’s so kick-ass,” Harry said. “Did you see her open that can of exorcist on his ass?”
“I still say she needs a tramp stamp,” Lukas said.
My mother glared at him.
“Maybe a delicate little snake on the inside of her wrist,” Sara suggested.
“Emma would never get a tattoo,” my mother declared.
I almost giggled, remembering my plan to secretly get inked when she and my dad had first disappeared. Hard to believe a tattoo had seemed the riskiest thing I could do at the time.
“How about some fierce piercings?” Natalie asked, licking batter from her spoon.
“Natalie!” her mother said, and they both smiled.
“Did you hear I got suspended?” Harry asked gleefully. “I am persona non grata at Thatcher for the next two weeks.”
“For what?” I asked.
Sara giggled. “They suspect it wasn’t a gas leak, and he dosed the lemonade.”
“But he’s sober!” I said.
He’s still Harry, Coby told me with a grin.
Good point. I looked at Harry and asked, “Did you tell them it wasn’t you?”
Harry drew himself up in mock offense. “I explained I had no idea what had happened. I was just trying to find my chimp.”
“Your chimp?” Bennett asked with a half laugh.
“Despite what you might think, that is not a term of endearment for your girlfriend!” Harry explained, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “Even though she has monkey toes.”
I ignored him as Bennett put his arm around my waist and whispered something sweet into my ear. I half listened to Sara telling a story about Harry’s youthful fascination with Curious George, as Simon related some obscure point about spectral reading to Mr. Stern and my mom. Natalie opened the oven, then looked around for oven mitts, and my dad offered her his ghostly boxing gloves. She put them on and struck a boxing pose, and the smell of brownies and happy conversation filled the air.
And leaning against Bennett, still weak from my wound and exhausted from the fight, the truth sank in all over again. The long battle was finished, and we’d won. Everything that had happened with Neos, from my childhood on, was in the past, and this was the future. These people in this kitchen.
I knew who I was now, and where I was meant to be. Were there still some questions? Sure, a few. But one thing I knew for certain:
I’d come home.
The first day of February was bitingly cold, but the sky was cloudless and picture-book blue. I was feeling stronger, walking with Bennett, Natalie, and Lukas from the museum to Echo Point Cemetery.
“This is a weird day to say good-bye,” I said, looking at the sky. “We should wait for a cold, gray, drizzly day. How long before it rains again?”
“Emma,” Natalie said gently. “This is what Coby wants.”
Bennett clasped my mittened hand, and despite my mood I felt the pleasure of holding his hand without worrying about our power. He’d even put on a little weight since he’d been home—Anatole and Celeste had seen to that. But it wasn’t enough to stop me from feeling sick over what we were about to do.
“You’re not taking something from him,” Bennett told me. “You’re giving him what he wants.”
“Still sucks, though,” Lukas said.
Natalie glared at him. “Lukas, not helping.”
“No, he’s right,” I agreed. “Why should I pretend it doesn’t suck?”
“Because,” Natalie answered, “that’s how you get over the grieving.” I guess she knew something about that. She was still hurting over losing Lukas—and having me and Bennett together couldn’t be making that easier. Even worse, her mother had gone back to the Kingdomers, though Mrs. Stern suspected she’d return to Echo Point soon.
We walked in silence the rest of the way. When we made the final turn, we could see Sara and Harry through the black iron gates, passing a coffee thermos back and forth as Coby messed with them—pulling Harry’s cap down, playing with Sara’s hair, grabbing the thermos and taking a sip of coffee that poured right through him and splashed on the ground—as though he wanted one final playful moment with them before he went. That’s how they all must’ve looked when they were twelve.
We stopped outside the cemetery entrance, giving them some time.
“I can’t do it,” I suddenly said. “I can’t.”
Bennett pulled me close. “You have to let him go, Em.”
I buried my face in his navy wool coat, quietly sobbing. He was right. I’d asked too much of Coby already. In the short time I’d known him, he’d been such a good friend to me, and all I’d done was use him. I owed this to him, no matter how much it hurt.
Bennett kissed the top of my head, and after I pulled myself together, I led him through the gates. Time to help one of my best friends find his peace.
When we got to the gravesite, I saw what Sara was wearing. All black, of course—but under her open coat was a little black dress, more appropriate for a party than a burial.
“I know,” she said, seeing my expression. “I’m freezing.”
“Then why that?” Natalie gestured toward the tiny dress.
“I woke up this morning,” Sara said, “and he’d laid it out for me, on the foot of my bed.”
“Really?” Natalie said. “That doesn’t seem like him.”
“I know. I just thought, well, if he’s got one last request …” Sara’s voice trailed off as she suddenly eyed Harry suspiciously. “Wait a minute. It doesn’t sound like Coby.”
“What?” Harry said, trying to look innocent.
“You snuck into my room last night!”
He laughed. “You’re just lucky I couldn’t find a bikini!” He raised the thermos and toasted the empty space beside him, where he must’ve thought Coby was standing. “One last prank, Coby, for you. Damn, I’m going to miss—” And he suddenly choked up, for once unable to find the words to say.
I turned to Coby. He wasn’t standing beside Harry, he was stretched out on his own grave, still wearing the dark gray suit he’d worn to Homecoming.
Poor Harry, he said.
What are you doing down there? I asked.
He grinned. Practicing.
I couldn’t help smiling at his macabre attitude. And how does it feel?
Cold and hard.
You can always change your mind, I said hopefully.
He stood. No, I’m ready.
Are you sure?
You gave me a gift, Coby said. Being able to say a long good-bye like this—but it’s time. Only, will you touch me again, so they can see me?
You don’t need my help. I remembered the Rake showing himself to Mr. Stern. Just focus, and they’ll see you. Do you want me to say anything to them?
You can tell Sara I like the dress. Otherwise … He shook his head. They know.
He concentrated, and a point of light started in his chest and expanded into a glowing aura. He stepped in front of Harry and Sara, and he was right—he didn’t need words.
“You gorgeous bastard,” Harry said. “I’ll never forget you.”
Sara didn’t say anything, she just began to weep. My heart ached for them. It was like he was dying a second time.
I did something I hadn’t planned. I stepped close to him and stood on my tiptoes and kissed him. A sweet, simple good-bye kiss on the lips that made my mouth tingle from ghostbite.
Then I said, I could’ve loved you, Coby.
Yeah, Emma. He smiled at me. Maybe next lifetime.
I’ll see you then, I said, and dispelled him, turning him to dust.
The wind blew drifts of snow around, and the few dead leaves still clinging to the trees fluttered and shook. Coby’s ashes mingled with it all. But spring would come. Somewhere beneath the cold earth, life bided its time. And maybe Coby and I would see each other again one day.
“He’s gone,” Sara said. “I can feel it. This time for good.”
Natalie hugged her, and she started to so
b. Then Harry shattered the silence with a pained yell, hurling his thermos into the woods. With tears in his eyes, he said, “I want a drink.”
I hugged him fiercely. “It’ll have to be one of my special chais, Harry. Have I made you a dirty one yet?”
“I want mine filthy,” he said.
We trudged back to the museum together, and toasted Coby with dirty vanilla chai lattes.
That evening, I slipped into black leggings and my long gray sweater and went to find the Rake. I took a rapier from Mr. Stern’s study, and expected the Rake to appear in the ballroom the moment I stepped through the doors, but the room remained quiet.
Until Bennett spoke from the doorway. “Do you remember that night we flashed back?”
I turned and smiled. “Only every single detail.”
He crossed toward me, a grin curving his mouth—then he stopped. “Should I get the other blade?”
I looked at the sword in my hand. “I’m waiting for the Rake.”
He raised a brow. “The Rake?”
Oh, right, we’d never talked about him. “He’s a ghost. Your ancestor. The Bennett you’re named after.”
“What?” Bennett laughed in surprise. “Here? When did he show up?”
“Um … a couple days after you brought me here from San Francisco.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“He’s private. And you’re both Bennetts. It’d be like … I don’t know. Traveling back in time and meeting yourself.”
“And you call him ‘the Rake’?”
“Well, he’s all swagger and devilish charm,” I explained.
“In that case, how can you tell us apart?”
I pressed closer to him. “Actually, now that you say that … he’s also incredibly loyal and tough and loved Emma.” I told him the Rake’s story, finishing with, “… and so he killed her, to save her. And he’s never left.”
“I wouldn’t leave, either,” Bennett said. “Wait, that reminds me—everything’s been so crazy, I forgot to give you this.” He reached into his pocket and gave me Emma’s ring. “I grabbed it after you dispelled Neos.”
I ran my finger along the curve of the ring. “It’s weird, but it kind of doesn’t feel like it’s mine anymore.”
Perhaps it is not, the Rake said, materializing near the piano.
Oh! I spun, smiling in happy surprise. There you are!
“Is he here?” Bennett asked.
“Yeah, he just came.”
The Rake swept me with one of his arrogant looks. Why don’t you let me speak to him myself?
He can’t even see you, not anymore. I still wasn’t sure how we were going to deal with this.
Emma, he said, Bennett gave you his power. Including his ability to take power—or grant it.
“Omigod,” I said, realizing.
“What?” Bennett asked. “You know, I never realized how annoying it is when ghostkeepers talk to people you can’t see!”
“Well,” I smiled, “don’t get used to it.”
I took his hand and pushed power into him. There was some resistance, but I felt a trickle of ghostkeeping energy swirl between us, and he said, “Whoa! I can see him. I—I can barely feel the energy, and it’s … different.”
It will take some time, the Rake told him. And you will never be the same as you were.
Holy sh—I can hear you! Bennett said. I can communicate.
You have Emma’s powers—just less so. The Rake considered him closely, his eyes hooded. I heard what happened. That you forced Emma to take your powers.
It was the only way to save her, Bennett said, apparently willing to confide in this previous version of himself. Would you not have done the same?
The Rake smiled suddenly. I think this is what I’ve been waiting for. I loved my Emma, but you—did better. Now I can go. And perhaps even …
Be with her? I asked.
Perhaps, the Rake said. May I have the ring?
I opened my palm, and his ghostly fingers plucked the ring away. He looked at me for a long moment, then Bennett. Then his hand shimmered and glowed, as power from the ring started to spread through him—not quite a dispelling, but close.
I expected some final words from him, but instead he addressed Bennett. I don’t think it’s easy for them to love us. On the other hand …
Then the Rake bowed to me one final time and disappeared forever.
Too much. First Coby, then this. I broke into tears again, and only after he’d comforted me did I ask Bennett, “On the other hand?”
“What?”
“The Rake said it’s not easy for us to love you—which isn’t true, by the way—but on the other hand … what?”
“Ah.” Bennett kissed me until I forgot everything but the shape of his mouth and the taste of his lips. Then he drew back and said, “On the other hand, we love you forever.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am ever grateful to the wonderful Nancy Coffey, Joanna Volpe, and Kathleen Ortiz. My excellent editor, Caroline Abbey, always seemed to know the books better than I did, and my publicists, Deb Shapiro and Kate Lied, have been the best. I also had incredibly supportive writer friends, Melissa Senate and Lisa and Laura Roecker. Thank you, one and all.
Footnotes
a While blazing
b You look beautiful.
A Note on the Author
Lee Nichols is the author of the Haunting Emma trilogy. She was raised in Santa Barbara, California—the setting of her adult novels Tales of a Drama Queen, Hand-Me-Down, and True Lies of a Drama Queen. She attended Hampshire College in Amherst, Massachusetts, where she studied history and psychology. She now lives in Maine and is married to novelist Joel Naftali.
www.leenicholsbooks.com
Copyright © 2011 by Lee Nichols
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Electronic edition published in November 2011
First published in the United States of America in December 2011
by Bloomsbury Books for Young Readers
www.bloomsburyteens.com
For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to
Permissions, Bloomsbury BFYR, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10010
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Nichols, Lee.
Surrender / by Lee Nichols. —1st U.S. ed.
p. cm.
Summary: Ghostkeeper Emma’s mysterious visions are realized when she comes face to face with
Neos, the ancient, repulsive old ghost that has haunted her, torn her family apart, turned her friends
against her, and ruined minds and lives.
ISBN 9781599906874
[1. Ghosts—Fiction. 2. Supernatural—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.N5412Sur 2011 [Fic]—dc22 2011006231
