If the American Wakers had information that would even point us in the right direction, I’d be tempted to accept whatever terms they asked. The problem would be trusting them to keep their end. The Clutch had dangled that same cure-carrot in front of Brent our senior year, wanting to control us, not help us.
Despite the similarities of the offer, I decided I had to listen to the American Wakers with an open mind. At least this time I had Vovó’s dream guiding us to attend this meeting. And I was growing desperate.
I’d only met one American Waker: Kalina. Like me, she was a Returned, someone who had changed the outcome of her death and come back to the land of the living. There should have been a kinship between us since we both knew what it was like to cheat death. Sadly, it hadn’t turned out that way.
We had something else in common, though; we’d each returned with powers beyond the normal scope of Waker abilities. Hers involved visions of the future, visions that had warned her and the other American Wakers I would have a hand in destroying Pendrell’s protective barrier. They sent Kalina to warn me not to take down the barrier, never giving me a single clue how to stop the Clutch. But even after Vovó and I almost died trying to prevent it—without any help from them—they still blamed me for all of it.
I didn’t relish the idea of meeting with them. And I really hated that they summoned me like some servant.
But my pride and anger were nothing compared to the lure of their snare. How could I not go if there was the possibility of curing Brent?
Returning to California also meant confronting Crosby. I closed my eyes, hating how inevitable this all felt, like fate had guided me kicking and screaming to this point.
The thought of going back to America frightened me. Luckily, Brent and I hadn’t been slacking. We’d both been training. But even so, Brazil had been an escape, one we’d both needed.
My eyes ran over the painted cement walls of my small room. My nursing diploma and holistic certificate from the São Paulo School of Holistic Medicine and Nursing hung there. The intensive program took only weeklong breaks between semesters, and allowed me to finish both my holistic training and earn my nursing degree simultaneously.
The sight of those dual diplomas still made me grin.
Beside them I’d placed a picture of Brent, Cherie, and me. Two winters ago, after Steve broke up with her, Cherie had flown out to visit and nurse her broken heart. In the picture, she wore a bright smile but the puffiness around her eyes revealed the strain of her break-up. She’d come again at the end of October last year, looking almost healed. I hadn’t heard from her much lately and my final semester of school had kept me too busy to call. At least going home would let me see Cherie again. I really missed her.
Returning to California under these circumstances felt like accepting defeat. In my daydreams, returning to America only happened after finding Brent’s cure. The thought of going back while Brent guzzled his meds with decreasing results made me want to cry, especially after my failure to help Ana. In my fantasies, I’d step out of the plane at LAX a triumphant Waker as wise as Vovó and confident in her abilities with a fully recovered Brent by my side.
That’s not how things were playing out.
Had I improved? Yes. But not enough. My abilities still fell short of where I’d envisioned them when I left the safety of Brazil. Returning this way reeked of failure. The words ‘not good enough’ might as well have been branded with a hot iron onto my heart. My tear ducts threatened to overflow, but I pushed back my despair. I wasn’t giving up or retreating, I had simply decided to follow a new path in my goal to save my boyfriend.
Even though I was sure Vovó already knew my answer, I let out a resigned sigh. “I’ll start making the arrangements for the trip.”
She nodded, but didn’t smile. I think going back to the U.S. was about as appealing to her as it was to me.
“I was going to take some herbs to your great-aunt’s house. Do you want to walk with me to see Brent?”
“I can take it for you. I was planning on visiting him tonight anyway.”
Even though we were both twenty-one, my parents and Vovó refused to allow Brent and I to live under the same roof. Luckily, my great aunt Dalva lived less than a block away and she’d welcomed Brent into her house like a long-lost son.
I folded the obituary and put it back in my pocket. “I’ll let him know what’s happening.”
On the short walk to Dalva’s, I did the meditative breathing I’d learned in my holistic courses. I let the worry, the tension, the pressure, and the fear go with every exhaled breath. It helped me concentrate on the first problem I’d have to face instead of letting them all overwhelm me.
I knocked on Dalva’s door before letting myself in. “Anyone home?”
“In here, Bonita.” Brent’s voice echoed off the stone walls, but I could tell it came from the kitchen.
I found Brent standing in the middle of the kitchen with a push broom, using it to scrub the floor, which was covered in soapy water. He smiled when he saw me, but I knew my answering smile wasn’t as bright as it should’ve been. I couldn’t muster a true grin when I saw how haggard he appeared.
The dark circles under his eyes had grown darker. At first I’d worried it was a sign that the potion was becoming even less effective than ever, but he said he just hadn’t been sleeping well. Bad dreams, he said. It’d been a month since he had a good night’s sleep and it was starting to show.
I came up behind him and slipped my arms around his waist. “Still not sleeping?”
He twisted in my arms to gently press my lips. Even after all this time, his kiss melted my insides like overheated wax. It wasn’t the newness of the kiss that did it now; it was all the love behind it, making it so much better than it used to be. His smile turned mischievous. “Who knows? Maybe I’m dreaming right now. If I am, don’t wake me up. This a good one for once.”
That earned him another kiss. He pulled me flush against him and angled his head so he could deepen the kiss. My pulse surged and my body flushed. I needed to take a breath, but who cared about air when I was kissing Brent?
“I wasn’t done,” I protested when he pulled away. He kissed the tip of my nose and let me go. With a resigned sigh I climbed up onto the kitchen counter and let my legs swing free.
I tried to figure out how best to broach the subject I’d purposefully made off-limits. Nothing brilliant sprung to mind, so I just took a breath and dove in. “Today has been interesting.”
Brent swapped the broom for a long-handled squeegee, and then rinsed away the suds with a bucket of clean water. “Bad interesting or good interesting?”
I crossed my ankles and leaned back. “I’m not sure yet.”
As I explained about Vovó’s dream and the letter of invitation from the American Wakers, he opened the back door and squeegeed the water out onto the patio where a floor drain carried it away. When I finished, he rested on the handle of the squeegee and stared out the open door, his dark hair glinting in the sunlight.
“I guess even six thousand miles isn’t far enough to run away from our problems. They still find us.” He kept his back to me but I could see the slump in his shoulders, the way his head hung. “What do you think we should do?”
“There’s no guarantee the American Wakers will actually help us,” I hedged. “It’s only slightly safer than making a deal with Crosby. We both saw how that turned out.”
Sighing and turning, he set the squeegee against the counter. “What does Vovó think?”
“That we need to go.”
Brent dropped a towel beneath my feet and gave me a knowing look. “Now answer the first question I asked. What do you think?”
“I think we should listen to Vovó. What about you?”
I stepped down onto the towel, and shuffled around, helping to dry off the tile. Brent didn’t answer right away as if he needed time to think. To avoid staring at him while he processed his thoughts, I applied myself to towel surfing around th
e kitchen floor.
After about five minutes Brent finally spoke. “We should go.” He picked up his wet towel. “Actually, the timing is almost perfect. I got an email from my mom last week threatening to cut off my trust fund if I didn’t come home and visit.”
My jaw went slack. “Would she really do that?”
I’m not even sure why I asked; I already knew the answer. Yes, she would. Brent had abandoned his parents’ Ivy League dreams to run off to Brazil with me after graduation. His mom and dad hated me, resentful that I had ‘sunk my claws’ into their son, and then, betrayed him by not working with the Clutch. It didn’t matter that I’d managed to get the medication on my own.
In my humble opinion, they were highly delusional for thinking the Clutch had any redeeming qualities. I’d never understood why Brent’s dad wanted to join them.
Brent chewed on his nail. “She’s not doing very well. The divorce hit her hard, and she still isn’t happy I turned down Yale.”
“And the even more unforgivable fact that you ran off to Brazil with me,” I added.
He didn’t bother denying the point. Brent returned the squeegee to the kitchen pantry and picked up our towels. “It’s not like I haven’t been going to college, but it isn’t the path they wanted for me. They always hoped I’d go into politics. And the divorce is just making Mom even more bitter.”
When we’d first arrived here, Brent’s original plans hadn’t included college. Vovó had been adamant that if he were to live in Dalva’s home, he would have to attend school, so he’d enrolled to keep the peace. It turned out to be a good thing. It gave him something to do, a way to occupy himself when my coursework and my extra studying with Vovó took up most of my days. He had loaded up on classes and graduated in the same time I did with dual Bachelor’s degrees in business and Portuguese. In recent months, he’d started working at the local high school teaching English.
So, yes, my family had made sure Brent went to college, but it wasn’t an American Ivy League school or even a prestigious European university. I’d ruined their family legacy and, on top of that, his mother blamed me for the breakup of her marriage. Like it was my fault her husband had been so bent on joining a secret organization that he was willing to risk his son’s health and destroy his family.
I tried not to speak about his parents. I might not like them, but I didn’t want to further the rift between them either. I tried to be supportive. “Well, good. You’ll go visit your mom and I’ll go visit the Wakers.”
Brent shook his head. “Nice try. We’ll both be going to see the Wakers. If they have answers, I want to be there. Plus, I trust them about as much as I trust Crosby. I’m not letting you walk in there alone.”
I stared into Brent’s eyes and hid my fears behind a grin. Brent looked sleep deprived, but no one meeting him for the first time would guess how closely death hounded him. He still had the same warm, melted-chocolate colored eyes, artistically mussed sable brown hair, devastating smile and strong muscled body I drooled over as a junior in high school. In fact, there had even been weeks over the past few years where I let myself believe he’d been healed completely. The illusion never lasted long though.
In my gut, a nagging sense of doubt had taken up residence, slowly consuming my nerves like a flesh eating bacteria. I never voiced any concerns of failure aloud. Part of me believed that if uttered, my worries would come true. I only prayed that Brent never saw beyond my optimistic veneer. Sometimes the only thing that held my fears at bay was a message I’d received from my brother.
I’d had a special ‘beyond the light of eternity’ visit from my deceased brother Kevin last year, during a Waker ceremony called Ação de Abrir. At the stroke of midnight between October 31st and November 1st, the famous eternal light opens, allowing trapped spirits a second chance to cross over.
Cherie, Vovó, and I had gone to a graveyard near here to witness the event for ourselves. Though she couldn’t see ghosts, Cherie still wanted to be part of the experience. I went out of curiosity, never imagining I’d see Kevin. He appeared, letting us know a cure existed, but the minute ended before he could tell us where to look.
That singular event fueled my belief that a cure existed and my drive to find it. I wouldn’t give up. I would follow every possible lead, even if it meant suffering the American Wakers.
I’d taken the mantle of Brent’s health upon my shoulders and even though it had grown heavy, I refused to put it down. No matter what I was doing or how many other problems occupied my mind, there was a part of my brain constantly on the lookout for clues, for answers, for a new avenue of possibilities to explore. If they did have the information we’d been searching for, I sincerely hoped I could pay the price they’d demand.
Chapter 2
The day before we flew home, Brent and I went to the sacolão market, to pick up fruit for a salad at our farewell family party. I loved going to the green grocers and seeing all the bright colored fruit. On our way out, we stopped at the feira and wandered around the open-air market. We browsed the different wares, enjoying the familiar smells and sounds. I couldn’t help but wonder when we’d be back.
Brent took the bag of fruit from me and nudged me toward the vendor selling churros. My mouth instantly watered. Those fattening cream-filled bites of heaven were a major weakness for me.
Brent’s smile didn’t fade when I scowled at him. “Brent, you’re supposed to keep me from eating them!”
But I took a step toward the vendor.
Brent took my arm and guided me the last few feet to the sweet treats. “We’re leaving tomorrow and you know you can’t find them like this in California.” He gave me his I’m-doing-this-for-you innocent expression. “You’ll regret it if you don’t get one.”
I’d spent the last year trying to wean myself off my addiction to these particular desserts. Recently I’d been very good at monitoring my intake but the smell of deep fried dough, sugar, and cinnamon proved maddeningly enticing. I decided Brent had a point.
“Not to mention you lost weight this semester because you were working so hard. Your dad will notice and blame me.”
I put my hand over my heart. “You’re right. I need to eat this churro to protect you from my dad and his sword collection.”
Brent ruffled my hair. “Exactly. Please help me.”
“If I must.” I kissed his cheek. “The things I do for love.”
With me playing the part of a long-suffering martyr, I ordered two doce de leite filled churros, and two cans of guaraná, my favorite soft drink. Brent paid, and handed me mine.
I bit into the warm pastry and closed my eyes, enjoying the cinnamon-and-sugar dusted treat. The cream in the middle put all other churros to shame. After another bite I moaned in happiness.
“Let’s sit over there,” Brent said, gesturing to an alcove between two stores. “It’s less crowded.”
Brent guided me out of the press of bodies on the busy street and to a vacant bench. I took another bite of my churro and stared into the bag of fruit. Brent wiped his fingers free of the lingering sugar and cinnamon.
“What’s wrong?” Brent asked. He touched between my eyebrows, smoothing over the wrinkle I knew had to have formed there. “I think we have enough fruit for the salad. Your family eats a lot but even they can’t finish off one as big as we have planned.” The corners of my mouth twisted up at his joke.
“It’s just weird that this our last day here and our last family party before leaving for home.”
“Home?” Brent brushed my hair back behind my ear as I fed him the last of my churro. He chewed it while gesturing with a nod toward the busy streets clogged with cars and white taxis and motorcycles. “This feels like home now more than California does.”
“Seriously?” I played with the handles of the fruit bag, my eyes skimming along the scene in front of us before finding his face.
Brent nodded. “Though I’d be lying if said I wasn’t craving real pizza.”
I drew in a
deep breath, inhaling the different scents of São Paulo, the damp air, the richness of the trees and flowers that didn’t grow at my parents’ home; even the smog smelled different than southern California. But beneath all of the scents of the city was the familiar one of Brent, the one that’d been comforting me since high school.
“You’re right. São Paulo does feel like home now.”
Brent leaned forward and pressed his forehead against mine. “It doesn’t matter where we go. Home is wherever you are.”
I stared into his brown eyes and knew exactly what he meant. He wrapped his arms around me and held me and I closed my eyes and just breathed in his musky citrusy scent. Being in his arms was home for me, too.
“So you don’t regret running off with your girlfriend?” I asked with a teasing smile.
“Let’s see. So far I’ve learned another language, finished college, found a grown-up job I love, and learned so much about the Waker world I feel like an honorary member.” Brent leaned in close and the warmth of his breath, which smelled like cinnamon, warmed my neck and tickled my ear as he whispered. “Oh, and I managed to fall even more in love with you than I was in high school. I didn’t think that was possible.” He gently trailed butterfly kisses down my neck.
“Good answer,” I said in a breathy voice while I angled my neck to give him better access.
He gave a low husky chuckle before clearing his throat and sitting back.
I leaned closer and sighed. “It’s like we’ve been on vacation. For, like, a really long time.”
Brent laughed. “Vacations don’t usually require so much studying.”
“Life just feels perfect right now. I’m so happy and I don’t want it to end.”
Brent caught my eye, his expression serious. “Who says it will?”
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