inevitablepub

by Lani Woodland

  The traffic moved surprisingly well and we pulled in front of the hotel in Corona a few minutes early.

  “They meet here?” Brent asked as we all stepped out of the car.

  Vovó clicked the key fob and the lights flashed. “Not usually. They wouldn’t want us to know where their meeting place is.”

  Brent grinned. “Too bad. I was hoping to see their secret lair.”

  “Careful, or you might actually get your wish.” I elbowed him in the gut. “We still don’t know what they want in return for whatever information they have.”

  Brent’s laugh died on his lips. “I know.”

  Vovó smoothed the loose hairs of her bun back. “They’ve been interested in you for a long time now. I’m surprised it took them this long to make contact.”

  “They can’t have you.” I looped my arm through Brent’s. “You’re mine.”

  “That’s right.” Brent rubbed the pearl ring I wore on my right hand, his gift to me at prom our senior year. “In the event of a catfight, don’t forget to get a good grip on the other chick’s hair.”

  “Only you could manage to make it sound like this meeting might turn into something lewd.”

  “Steve could’ve done better.” Brent smiled and raised his eyebrows. “I can really make it lewd if you want. I left out the possibility of mud wrestling or strawberry Jell-O or—”

  I laughed and Brent cut off mid-sentence with a grin. His chuckling eased some of the tension visible on his face. We were still smiling when we walked through the glass doors of the lobby and blinked, trying to adjust to the sudden darkness. When the sunspots cleared from my vision I saw a man in an expensive black suit rise from one of the leather armchairs and stride toward us.

  “Mrs. Silva, Ms. Silva, Mr. Springsteed. I’m Paul Sommerson. The council is pleased you could make it.” He dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Please follow me.”

  My smile fell as we followed our guide. Somehow I ended up in the center of our group. Brent tucked his elbow tight against his body, drawing me even closer. Having him near calmed me even as we walked through a huge set of double doors into a large, noisy conference room. There were at least ten rows of padded chairs with an aisle down the center. After a quick calculation, I realized there were over a hundred chairs in the room. And every one of them one was occupied.

  I hesitated for a second. I thought we’d be dealing with around fifteen women, something like my family. Were all of these women Wakers? And what were the men doing here? They couldn’t all be like Brent, could they?

  In my peripheral vision I noticed Vovó’s eyes widen. Apparently she hadn’t known how large their group was either. Brent whistled quietly and I had to bite my tongue to keep from murmuring in agreement. We were so in over our heads.

  Almost at once the entire room turned to follow us with their eyes, and a hush fell over the group. I dropped my gaze, studying the dark blue and gold carpet, but felt the prickling of eyes watching me and heard my name in the whisperings around us.

  “Quiet!” A voice full of authority ordered. The noise ceased.

  Paul motioned for us to follow him up the center aisle toward a table covered with a maroon cloth. Behind it sat four women, the youngest of them about my age. I tried to read their expressions as they watched us approach. I felt like a defendant being brought before a judge to hear my verdict. If I had to guess, we’d skipped the trial and had been found guilty.

  We stopped behind Paul as he addressed the women.

  “Ilma and Yara Silva and Mr. Brent Springsteed.” He gave a formal bow and then took a seat in the front row.

  “Pretentious much?” Brent muttered to me.

  “More than a little,” I whispered back.

  I stared at the women sitting and waited for them to start. The platinum blonde on the far left looked to be in her early thirties. Opposite, on the far right, sat the one who looked to be my age with curly, dark blonde hair. She wiped her hazel, red-rimmed eyes with a tissue as she sniffled softly. The woman sitting next to her ignored her tears. She was probably closer to forty and wore her auburn hair pulled back in a bun.

  I caught all this in a glance, but it was the oldest woman at the table, one who looked like she hadn’t smiled in a few decades, who held my attention. She had steel-gray hair that curled to her shoulders. She eyed us all carefully, but spent twice as long studying Brent. The acquisitive look in her eyes scared me, and it took all my self-control to keep from stepping in front of him to hide him from her.

  Behind them hung a banner with a four-leaf clover surrounded by sprigs of Pankurem. They had a banner? I didn’t know why, but that made me want to laugh. Did they have a secret handshake, too?

  “It seems you’ve kept more secrets than I realized, Kathryn. Are all the females here Wakers?” Vovó asked.

  The gray-haired woman ignored my grandmother and stared me down.

  “So, you’re the one responsible for so much trouble, abusing your gifts, helping our enemies.” She cast a disapproving glance at Vovó before giving me an especially withering glare. Her unfriendly scowl never ventured toward Brent. “Do you care what chaos your granddaughter’s actions have caused, Ilma?”

  Vovó folded her arms and stared up at Kathryn, her expression calm, but her eyes burning. It was a face I’d seen rarely, but I’d learned young not to get in her way when she looked like that. Kathryn apparently hadn’t, or maybe had forgotten. The longer Vovó stood silently under Kathryn’s scrutiny, the more etched the lines around Kathryn’s frown became.

  “I asked you a question,” Kathryn snapped.

  Vovó tilted her head slightly as though acknowledging the statement, but all she said was, “And I you.”

  They stared at each other for a moment, a steely silence enveloping the room. Finally the auburn haired woman cleared her throat. “Ilma.”

  Vovó acknowledged her. “Lyn.”

  Lyn gave my grandma a weak smile. “They’re not all Wakers. Only about half of them are. The rest are trusted employees.”

  Brent’s eyebrows drew together. “They need employees?”

  I glanced over my shoulder. Why would they need such a large team of people? Was this supposed to be some kind of scare tactic? Maybe they’d wanted us to believe their group was exponentially larger than ours.

  “The trouble you mentioned is from the removal of the barrier, I assume.” Vovó tapped her index fingers against her upper arms. “The barrier would have come down, with or without us, and Yara needed to live. Your seer saw the circumstances and warned my granddaughter, but none of you offered any help. If you’d honestly cared about keeping the barrier in place, you would have done more than stand by and watch as two children faced an organization you haven’t been able to defeat in over half a century.

  “Besides, I lowered the barrier.”

  I smiled at my grandmother’s words. Speaking of their seer, where was Kalina?

  After a quick search, I found her in the second row. Her gray eyes tracked the conversation between Kathryn and Vovó as she twisted a strand of her strawberry blonde hair around her finger. As though she felt my gaze, she met my eyes and pointed toward the front with a swirl of her finger. The message was brief, but it was clear. Turn around and pay attention. I did as instructed.

  Kathryn scrunched up her lips even more. “It’s not our responsibility to clean up every mess visiting Wakers make. The abuse of power—”

  “Enough. We didn’t create this problem. If anything it was Christopher Pendrell, husband of Sophia, an American Waker.”

  Kathryn reeled back. “There would have been no problem if Yara’s great-great grandfather hadn’t brought the Pankurem plant to Pendrell.”

  “Christopher Pendrell’s brother would have brought it over some other way,” Vovó said.

  Vovó had the right of it but I could tell by the set of Kathryn’s mouth she had another accusation to let loose. We were getting side tracked. History didn’t matter.

  I stepped out
in front of Vovó and Brent. “We never abused our gifts. I never helped the Clutch, not even after they threatened Brent’s life.”

  “And we should simply accept your word for that?”

  Elder Waker or not, I wanted to slap the condescending judgment off Kathryn’s face.

  “You should.” Brent placed his hands on my shoulders and pulled me against him. “Yara turned them down flat. Twice. I worked with them but she never did.”

  Behind us protests and whispers started. I didn’t know if the uproar was because Brent had worked with the Clutch, or our claims that I hadn’t.

  “My Waker line has only used our gifts to help the spirits cross over.” Vovó swept her arms wide indicating the whole room. “We haven’t been forcing ghosts to do the work of governments and militaries.”

  My jaw almost dropped. They worked for the government? What branch of the military could they possibly work for? What did they do? The whole concept made me feel dirty. I wiped my hand on my jeans and tried not to shudder.

  “We have only ever used our talents to stop evil,” Kathryn said.

  “Perhaps. But as Matriarca, you are able to command them. How often do they agree to do your bidding and how often do you compel their obedience?”

  All four women drew back as if my grandmother had slapped them. Behind us rose a chorus of gasps. The tension in the room rose so fast goose bumps spread across my skin. I’m not sure how long the silence would have gone on if Brent hadn’t broken it.

  “You said something in your letter about information. That’s the only reason we’re here. Are you going to get to the point or should we just go now?”

  All four sets of eyes darted to him.

  The platinum blonde lady beckoned with her hand and Kalina stepped out of the audience to hand her a scroll.

  “We have found mentions in our records of two others who have suffered the same condition as you, the residue of a spiritual invasion. They both referred us to this scroll.”

  Before we could ask any questions, Kathryn took the scroll and placed it in front of her. “Mr. Springsteed, when you were a boy, you were in a car accident in Europe, were you not?”

  Brent wrinkled his forehead. “What?”

  Kathryn repeated the question, a triumphant look in her eyes that made my breath catch in my throat.

  “Yes,” Brent answered slowly.

  “And you had a bad reaction to the blood transfusion they gave you.” A statement, not a question, but she waited until Brent nodded to continue. “And you then underwent experimental gene therapy.”

  Brent’s jaw clenched. “What’s your point?”

  “Because you are a descendant of the Waker Sophia Pendrell, you were part of an experiment. The blood you were given was donated by a Waker from a separate line.”

  “How could you possibly know whose blood he had?” I demanded.

  “We know.” Kathryn stared at me as if daring me to interrupt again before she turned back toward Brent.

  “There are others like you. Someone was experimenting on boys with Waker heritage, trying to create male Wakers. We believe this is where you get your power, from these experiments to combine two separate Waker lines. The research was done in Europe, but we believe the Clutch was involved. Your ‘accident’ may have been intentional. All of the boys involved also went to Europe with their families that same summer and suffered similar accidents.”

  She let this sink in for a moment, but her eyes never left Brent’s face. I wanted to turn, to see what she saw in his expression, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off her.

  After a minute, she continued. “Eventually the experiment was terminated; most of their test subjects were dying. At the time they thought they’d failed because none of you could see ghosts and only a handful of the subjects survived. It wasn’t until years later that they discovered they’d created something entirely different. You’re all about the same age, and all of you have developed unusual abilities.”

  I didn’t like the path this conversation was taking and I definitely didn’t like the greedy gleam in their eyes as they stared at Brent, like a weapon they could add to their arsenal. “Does this have anything to do with his illness?”

  Kathryn’s eyes cut to mine and her lips tightened. “No, but it has everything to do with his abilities.”

  “I’d heard rumors of the experiments, but didn’t believe it,” Vovó said, casting Brent a worried look. “However interesting his history, that isn’t why we came today.”

  “I couldn’t have said it better myself.” I grabbed Brent’s hand and turned to leave the room. Of course they led us here under false pretenses.

  “Don’t you want to know why you can do what you can do, Mr. Springsteed? Why you see what you see? Don’t you want to know about the others like you?”

  Brent ground to a halt and spun around so fast he jerked me backward a few steps. I didn’t even protest. My mind was already too busy turning over Kathryn’s words. What did she mean by that? What he can see?

  Brent dropped my hand and demanded, “How many are there? Where are they? Are they sick too?”

  She held up her hand. “We will only answer your questions if you will answer ours. Can you see spirits that have crossed over?”

  I started to laugh. Of course Brent couldn’t see ghosts. He would have told me if he could. I expected him to scoff at her but instead he stiffened.

  “They’re real?” His voice was so soft I almost believed I had imagined the words, but then he said in a louder voice. “Yes.”

  The hushed excitement of conversation told me this was the answer they’d expected.

  “You can see ghosts?” I whispered, feeling betrayed.

  His guilty expression didn’t lessen my hurt in the slightest. “Yara—”

  My mouth tightened and so did my grip on his hand. “Later.”

  “Were you afraid you’d been imagining them?” Kathryn now wore a smile. “They’re very real. And that means you have a very special skill. The other boys who had the therapy could see them too. Explain it to him, Rachel.”

  The platinum blonde spoke. “We need someone like you, Brent.” She stood up and walked around the table. “If you join us, we will give you access to the scroll. You’ll have the information you need, and in exchange you’ll lend us your talents.”

  “Just like that?” Brent raised one eyebrow.

  “Just like that.” Her eyes scanned over me, daring me to contradict her. I refused to rise to take the bait.

  Rachel crossed her ankles and tapped the scroll against the table. “Do we have a deal?”

  Brent’s nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. “No.”

  The whispers around us stopped, and judging by the expressions on the faces of the four Waker’s at the table, none of them had expected his answer either.

  “We’re offering you answers to the condition that’s killing you. How can you walk away from that?”

  Brent scoffed. “’Cause I don’t trust you. If you actually cared about whether I live or die, you would’ve sent me that scroll as soon as you found it.” He rocked on his heels and glared down each woman at the table. “You didn’t. You held onto it, waiting to see how things would play out. Now, you’ve run into something you can’t handle and you want someone else to step in and clean up your mess.”

  He paused and watched the council. “Sound about right?”

  Kathryn’s gaze hardened.

  Brent smirked and kept talking. “You want something from me. From us. I’m guessing you don’t think I’ll survive it. Then you’ll never have to give me a thing.”

  The girl on the right let out a heart-wrenching sob and Brent watched her for a second before looking back at Kathryn. But it wasn’t Kathryn who spoke; it was Lyn.

  “Yes, we want something from you. We want you to take down Crosby. Considering your past with him we thought you’d be open to the idea.”

  “And you care about what happens to Crosby why?” I asked.


  Lyn stood. “If he goes on unchecked he will upset the balance of the spirit world. His actions already have.”

  “He isn’t a Waker. How could he have upset the spirit world?” Vovó asked.

  Rachel leaned forward. “When the barrier around Pendrell came down, over sixty years of negative spirit energy that had been contained exploded. Its release damaged the wall between the spirit world and ours.”

  Vovó took my hand in hers and squeezed, but I wasn’t sure I understood. “Can you explain it better than that?”

  Lyn circled behind her chair, gripping the headrest. “Imagine a physical wall separating the two worlds. When the barrier fell it was like an earthquake rocking the ground beneath it. The epicenter was here in Corona, but aftershocks have spread and now ripple through the world. The worst damage is here, though. There are large holes in the wall, making it less stable, flimsier.”

  “What does that mean?” I said placing an arm around a visibly shaken Vovó.

  “We’ve lost Wakers who were helping spirits cross,” Kathryn said. Judging by her accusatory tone she fully blamed us for this problem.

  “Lost them how?” Brent asked, his voice shaky.

  Rachel tapped the scroll against her leg. “Their spirits got sucked into the light with the ghost they were helping. It’s happened twice.”

  Vovó gasped and I turned to face her. “Can that happen?”

  She nodded and ran a worried hand over her face. “There have been stories of such things happening, but I never imagined I’d live to see it.”

  I’d never considered the possibility of being sucked into the light while aiding a ghost. Without our help, the lost spirits might never find peace, but would any Waker be willing to take that risk? To guide spirits over if it might endanger their own life?

  My face must have reflected my emotions because the hardness in Rachel’s eyes softened. “Can you imagine being followed by desperate ghosts you can’t help? You know how angry they can become if you don’t guide them.”