inevitablepub

by Lani Woodland

  His words were both beautiful and heart-breaking. Tears blurred my vision. “That’s exactly how I feel about you. You have to understand that I can’t simply replace you, Brent. No one will be able to measure up to you. You’re the man for me. My guy. The other half of my soul.”

  The smile he gave me was like a ray of sunshine on this rainy night.

  “I won’t bring up marriage again. Not now that I understand how you feel. And why. But you need to understand, there isn’t going to be someone else out there for me. Not like you.” I kissed the corner of his mouth. “I’m so glad you love me.”

  “I’ll always love you.”

  I cried openly now, not just from the dim prospects of the future, but from the beauty of his words. People passed by, cars honked and it started to rain again, but none of it fazed me. Brent held me in his arms and I knew someday he wouldn’t be able to anymore. I clung to him and he held me just as tight. In that moment I felt like we were keeping each other afloat, to avoid drowning beneath the trials we were experiencing. He rested his chin on top of my head. I watched the drips of rain sending ripples in a puddle. It felt like heaven cried for us too.

  I snuggled back into Brent’s arms until the tempest of emotions inside me calmed. After taking a deep breath I said, “Okay. I’m ready to go be happy for our friends.”

  He gave me a sad smile and with a gentle hand wiped away my tears. “I am so jealous of them, but I’m happy for them too.”

  I gave him a watery smile. “Same here.”

  As we walked hand in hand back to the table, I vowed to myself that somehow I would get my happily ever after with Brent. Somehow.

  Brent kissed me goodnight on my parents’ front porch and stroked the back of his hand down my cheek. “I’ll text you when I get in. Let me know as soon as you talk to Vovó.”

  “I will.” We exchanged a long hug before I walked inside. I kicked off my heels and decided to change into my PJ’s before talking to Vovó.

  I flipped on the light in my room and bit back a scream when I saw DJ sitting on my bed. Even though I knew this afternoon wasn’t his fault, anger surged in me.

  “What do you want? My grandma is here and—”

  “Please don’t call her.” He swung his legs back and forth, reminding me of the small boy I had once kissed. “I deserve for her to banish me or whatever she did to Thomas. I know I can’t be trusted, but I had to tell you how sorry I am.”

  I opened my mouth to call for help but hesitated when I saw the look on his face. The remorse radiated from it so openly, his eyes shone with regret and guilt. The normal green color had returned to his eyes and I could tell the compulsion didn’t have him in its thrall. Still, not wanting to be stupid, I decided against entering the room. Just to be safe.

  “It’s only me in my head right now; I swear.” He tapped his index finger against his temple. “I’m not on some horrible secret mission from our archenemy.”

  I could still smell the smoke and the scent of the peace and calming candle. Shards of glass from my temper tantrum littered the floor. The remnants of the betrayal accused DJ even as he asked for forgiveness.

  “Did you know?”

  His forehead creased. “Know what?”

  I rested my shoulder against my doorjamb. “Did you know that you were working for Crosby? Did you know he controlled you?”

  “No. Absolutely not.” He shook his head. “Not until it was over.”

  He wrung his hands together. “I tried to fight it; I swear. It was like I was in there screaming at myself to stop. For one moment I heard your voice and I almost got out, but . . .”

  My heart jumped a few beats. “So I did break through?”

  “Yeah. I remember seeing Kalina take out the scroll and then I was in front of Clarke telling her what I’d seen. I can’t remember what she looks like, but that’s Crosby’s Waker. Clarke.” He shuddered and his expression turned bleak. “She told me to destroy it. Ordered the other two to go with me. And you know the rest.”

  I held up my injured hand, letting the bracelets fall away and show the marks he’d left behind. “Yeah, I know the rest.”

  His shoulders slumped. “I did that, didn’t I?”

  I nodded. In the silence, I could almost hear the clenching of my heart seeing him in my room again. He might not have been at fault, not really, but seeing him still hurt. It reminded me of everything that had gone wrong this afternoon and caused a physical pain in my chest.

  “Sorry doesn’t even begin to describe how I’m feeling right now.” DJ jumped from the bed. “I know you shouldn’t trust me. And I know I may have ruined Brent’s chances for getting better, but I want to help. I need to.”

  I sighed. “You told me yourself not to trust the spirits. Now I understand why. They turned you against us and they could do it again.”

  “I know. You’d be stupid to trust me and you aren’t stupid.” He seemed to be studying his shoes. “I, however, am stupid almost at every turn. I knew he had a Waker. I even knew she was strong, but I never suspected they’d put the whammy on me.”

  “You remember my word ‘whammy’, huh?” I smiled despite myself.

  “Yeah.” He gave a slight smile. “I thought Sophia was convincing, but she has nothing on Clarke. It’s bad enough they killed me. Did they really have to take away my free will too?”

  “They knew you could get inside information. And that a betrayal from you would hurt more.”

  “Hurt us both more. You know, if I weren’t already dead I’d want to kill myself right now. I loathe myself for what I did.”

  Watching him chastise himself for something he had no control over helped cool my anger. I could feel his agitation like an almost palpable thing. “I know what you need, DJ.”

  “Yeah, me too; a weird time loop thing like you had so I can undo my death.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “At least you know what it’s like to be dead. You understand.”

  “I do. Sort of. But I wasn’t brainwashed. And I wasn’t alone; I had Brent.”

  DJ groaned and covered his face. “I don’t even want to think about what Brent is going to do if he gets his hands on me.”

  “He isn’t your biggest fan right now.”

  “Can’t blame him.” DJ winced. “That bruise I put on you makes me sick.”

  I stepped closer and held out my hand so he could see the ugly, handprint-shaped purple and black bruise again. “That was all you.”

  “I don’t ever want to do that again.” He walked to the window. “Please help me.”

  I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “Okay, then while you’re in control, we’ve got to cross you over.”

  “I don’t want you to help me cross over.” He crossed his arms and rested against the windowsill.

  “When I said I knew what you needed, that’s what I meant.” I raised my eyebrows. “What exactly did you think I could do for you?”

  He threw his hands up in the air. “You’re the ghost whiz. I assumed there was a spell or something you could use to free me. Or maybe you could undo her control over me and tether me to you instead, like I could be your personal spirit companion or slave or something.”

  “We’re not like Clarke, or the American Wakers.” I stepped into my room and sat on the chair by my bed. “It’s one thing to command a ghost to help the spirit into the light, but to bind one to a person . . . they could lose their free will completely, their ability to choose. The spells that do that go against everything my grandmother has taught me. Even if they didn’t, I’m not sure they could undo Clarke’s hold on you.”

  “I can’t live . . . exist like this anymore.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “I’m determined to break free from Clarke, with you or without you. After that, I plan to fight Crosby.” He shook his head. “But with my lousy luck, some other Waker will capture me. Not all Wakers out there share your ethics about ghost rights. I’d rather serve you out of choice than be forced into servitude by someone else. Please, Yara, I�
��m begging you. You want ghosts to have peace. I’m a ghost and this is the only way I’ll ever have any.”

  The heartache and desperation in his voice swayed me. “Alright. Let’s go talk to Vovó.”

  We found her in the kitchen having a cup of hot chocolate with my dad. Even though my father couldn’t see ghosts he loved being involved in Waker business so he sat in on our conversation, picking up any information he could. He murmured tender words when he saw my bruise and threatened DJ in two languages if he ever hurt me again.

  “How did the others get around my wards?” Vovó asked, folding her napkin in half.

  “I broke one of your jars so the other spirits could get through. It was the one leaning against the back fence.”

  Vovó immediately left the table, going first to her room to collect a new jar and then to the backyard, returning a few minutes later.

  “I have fixed the wards.” Vovó pushed her glasses up her nose and studied DJ. “You are a more powerful spirit than you let on, to have moved the jar.”

  DJ cast his eyes down. “I didn’t know I could do that.”

  “But Crosby did,” Vovó said.

  “Probably.” DJ stuck his hands in his pocket. “I hate what he’s done to me, controlling me, manipulating me. Can you help?”

  I had expected Vovó to go off on ghost rights but after listening to DJ’s story and the details about this afternoon she said, “Binding DJ is a good idea.”

  “How does this not violate everything that you have taught me about the sanctity of the spirit?” I asked.

  She took a sip of her drink before answering. “He volunteered. This is his choice. And right now this other Waker has taken that from him. Besides, it may be important to have a loyal spirit with us.”

  “I don’t trust him,” my dad said. “Having him bound to you makes me uneasy, Mãe. He’d be too close to Yara.”

  “He wouldn’t be bound to me,” Vovó said. “I’m binding him to Yara. With his ability to touch her, he might be able to protect her in ways we can not yet see.”

  “Or betray her, if his past is any indication.” My father and grandmother stared at each other for a long time before my dad finally looked away. “What if he only pretends to be bound to you and he is still linked to your enemies?”

  “I know I am strong enough to break this Clarke’s hold over our DJ.” My grandma reached toward DJ. She wasn’t a Returned like me so she and DJ couldn’t touch, but she patted the air near his face. DJ’s sheepish expression made me smile.

  My father scowled. “Can another Matriarca compel him after he’s bound to Yara?”

  “No,” my grandma said. “Normally, any ghost can be compelled by a Matriarca. But not when they are bound to another Waker.”

  Dad tapped his fist against the table. “If you really think this is a good idea, Mãe, I’ll go along with it, but I still don’t like it. Dying didn’t suddenly make him trustworthy.”

  “I understand why you’re worried,” Vovó said, “but a binding involves a loyalty oath.”

  “If anyone could find a way to weasel out of a loyalty oath, it’d be him.” My father pointed to the scar above my left eye and the bruise on my arm. “He has not earned Yara’s trust.”

  “I’m not even going to try to deny it,” DJ said. “Tell him that. I know I don’t deserve it. I made a lot of mistakes while I was alive and obviously some—even if they weren’t my fault—while I was dead. I want to make this right. I want to help and I don’t want to ever hurt Yara again.”

  I relayed his message to my dad who muttered something about needing a sword that could hurt a ghost. Vovó and I both knew that was my father’s way of relenting.

  “Very well.” Vovó clapped her hands together. “This is a rare occurrence to have a spirit willing to bind itself in service to a Waker. It should prove to be the strongest of bonds.”

  Vovó shepherded DJ and I into her bedroom. The amber throw pillows and shimmery gold bedspread accented the warm yellow walls. A soothing herbal smell lingered in the air, and the wind chime outside her window tinkled in the wind. Bottles of herbal remedies lined the shelves and several plants bloomed on her windowsill.

  Vovó burned a large sage candle that she’d sprinkled with a few other herbs, some of which I didn’t recognize—I made a mental note to ask her about them later. In a glass bowl she crushed nettle leaf, oregano, lemon balm, and calendula flowers before pouring in some distilled water to form a paste. She dipped a pair of scissors into the mixture. While circling DJ, she opened and closed the blades, snipping around him, chanting softly. The air grew heavy and DJ’s hair and clothes rustled as if caught in a storm.

  A deep fissure sliced across his cheek and down his neck, disappearing under his shirt where blue liquid— I called it spirit blood—seeped through the material over his un-beating heart.

  DJ gasped, bending forward.

  The slash on his cheek traveled up his face and made a jagged cut across his forehead. Everywhere the gash spread, the thick blue flowed. DJ screamed. His whole body tensed and he shot up, his arms and legs rigid.

  Vovó’s voice rose higher, louder, firmer until she stabbed the scissors into the burning candle.

  With that the room grew still, so quiet I could almost hear my heart beating.

  A wounded and blue-covered DJ collapsed to his knees, falling forward until he rested on the ground, whimpering.

  “Yara,” Vovó said in her normal voice. “Hurry now. Help him to his knees. You kneel in front of him”

  I dropped to floor and slid my arms under him, ignoring the stickiness of his shirt, and hoisted the unsteady and panting DJ to his knees. He was too weak to keep himself from falling forward so I hugged him to me, his head tucked into the nook of my shoulder.

  “This is a little different because you can touch one another.” She set the scissors down. “But it should make for a good pairing. Take both of his hands in yours, Yara.”

  Grandma lit a new candle and started burning lavender and several other herbs. She poured blue sand into a white bowl, then combined it with yellow sand from another jar. She added herbs, oils and flowers as she began to chant. Her words swirled around me and soon I found myself chanting along with her, speaking the words without understanding them as they formed on my tongue. Against my shoulder I could feel DJ’s lips moving in unison with ours.

  Vovó poured the contents of the bowl over our heads. It rained over us, filling the space between us, falling through my eyelashes, landing on my tongue as I continued to chant.

  A warmth started in my mouth, stretching up inside my skull and traveling down my throat, throughout my body. It spread to my fingers, to my toes. The powder in the air glittered before exploding into bright bursts of light, growing brighter until the whole room was bathed in a white light that made the two of us seem to shine. DJ glowed yellow and his head lifted from my shoulder, kneeling with his own strength. My own fingers sparkled with flecks of blue.

  The internal warmth grew to a fervent heat, almost a burning, and my pulse raced until it felt like something shot from my heart at the exact moment that something entered it. A similar feeling of release and entry echoed in my head.

  The yellow shine of DJ’s light swirled around the blue of mine, and the room flashed in a bright emerald burst. A visible string of verdant light connected my heart to DJ’s and a similar filament linked our minds. Our eyes met, his green ones wide and his gaze penetrating. I couldn’t look away, didn’t want to.

  In that instant, I knew I could trust DJ. That he would always be there for me. The green luminance around us intensified until I had to close my eyes. The air pressed against me, stealing my breath, filling my ears until my body trembled. With a loud pop, the pressure vanished and the incredible light behind my eyes subsided.

  I swayed on my knees, my eyes opening.

  “Wow,” I said falling against DJ.

  Vovó clapped her hands. “Wonderful!”

  “I’ve got you,” DJ
said, helping me to my feet.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  “Better. A little shell-shocked, but better.” He looked it. The wounds that had appeared when Vovó had severed his tie to Clarke were healed.

  “So, I think that worked.” A quick glance confirmed the tether I had seen between us had vanished. I knew it still connected us, but was no longer visible.

  He snorted. “I’d say. You rock, Vovó. That was amazing.”

  “Do feel robbed of your free will?” I asked, only half kidding.

  DJ laughed. “Not at all. I don’t feel trapped anymore. And until your grandma ripped that out of me, I didn’t even realize I could feel Clarke inside me. But being bound to you—or whatever it’s called—feels like . . . freedom.” He fingered his temple. “I know that you would never ask me to do something horrible or force me to do something that was wrong.”

  I smiled at him. “And I know I can always count on you.”

  “You can,” he said, completely serious. I could feel how much he meant it.

  “Perfeito.” While we’d been talking Vovó had almost finished putting away her supplies. “I have never performed one of those before. I hadn’t expected it to be that powerful.”

  Vovó put away the last of her oil bottles. Sweeping up the powder she had poured on us would probably take a long time. I glanced down to see how bad of a mess we had created. The floor was perfectly clean. There wasn’t a speck of sand on the ground.

  “Vovó, not a single drop of that stuff you poured reached the ground.”

  “É mesmo?” She peered over my shoulder and pushed up her glasses. “Interesting.”

  She reached for her pen making notes on a sheet of paper.

  “So, now that I have a spirit companion . . . a DJ. What do I do with him?”

  Vovó clucked her tongue at me. “You probably should have asked before the ceremony.”

  DJ laughed along with her. “Yeah. I thought you were a read-the-fine-print sort of girl.”