“Yeah,” Brent said, checking his watch. “But that was like three hours ago.”
DJ looked out the window. “Maybe she ran into some ghost that needed help.”
But what ghost would take three hours to cross over?
I picked up my phone and dialed her number. It went straight to voicemail. An edge of worry gnawed at me. She always answered her phone.
“I might be paranoid, but DJ, can you go try to track her down?”
DJ nodded. “Of course. I’ll find her. I promise.”
He vanished and I tried to ignore the chill that whispered across my skin.
Chapter 12
“Have you heard anything yet?” Brent asked for the fifteenth time. I checked my screen. Dropping my phone in my lap, I shook my head.
“Trying not to worry only makes it worse. She wouldn’t just disappear like this.”
Brent pulled me closer, both of us jerking around when we heard the back door open. I couldn’t completely hide my disappointment when Cherie and Steve walked into the room.
“You’ll never believe what I found!” Cherie held out her phone to me. The display reminded me of a radar screen from an old movie, concentric green lines on a black background with a spinning dial lighting up a red blip as it swept past.
“What is it?” I asked.
“A ghost app,” Cherie said, her free hand doing jazz fingers.
Brent and I exchanged amused looks.
“It lets me know if there are spirits present.” Cherie studied the screen and then pointed across the room. “There’s a ghost there.”
I looked to the empty corner. “Sorry, Ree. There isn’t.”
“Aw, man,” Steve said. “You know she’s feeling sorry for you when she pulls out the childhood nickname.”
Cherie dropped her phone and leaned back in her chair, letting out a weary sigh. “I guess that was a waste of ninety-nine cents.”
Steve squeezed into the chair beside her and patted her shoulder. “I’m being very supportive and not saying ‘I told you so’ right now.”
She glared at him. I peeked over at Brent, expecting to see him laughing, but instead he had paled, staring where Cherie had pointed.
“What is it?”
He looked toward me, his eyes wide. “There is a ghost there.”
I checked again. “No, there isn’t.”
He ran his hand across his eyes. “Okay, not a ghost then, but a spirit.”
Cherie sat up. “There is? And Yara can’t see it?”
“He’s already crossed over.” Brent got to his feet, his eyes still staring at the spirit I couldn’t see.
Cherie picked up her phone with renewed interest, cradling it to her chest. “Do you know him?”
“Christopher Pendrell.”
My eyes flew to the empty space again. I had almost forgotten that this was something Brent could do, seeing spirits that had gone into the light.
“What’s he saying?” I asked before remembering Brent couldn’t hear the ghosts he saw. “What’s he doing?”
Brent stared at the not quite empty corner, his eyebrows knitting together. Irritation rattled inside me. Ghosts were the thing I had been trained to deal with and having to rely on a third party bugged me. I suddenly had a lot more empathy for Cherie’s plight, wanting to see ghosts and not being able to.
“He’s mouthing something to me and moving his hand like he’s writing.”
“Writing… writing…” Cherie mumbled.
Steve snapped his fingers. “His journals.”
“He’s nodding.” Brent sounded surprised.
I tucked my legs beneath me, leaning forward on the couch and watched Brent instead of the corner. “Can he tell us where they are?”
“He’s shaking his head no.”
I licked my lips considering my next question. “Crosby has them, right?”
“He’s saying no.”
“And Crosby wants them back?” Steve asked.
“He’s really nodding now.” Brent folded his hands behind his back. “And he’s sniffing his hand.”
“Why?” I asked
Brent scowled at me. “I don’t know.”
“Is it a mineral?” Cherie asked at the same time Steve asked, “Is it a vegetable?”
“What?” My attention left my boyfriend’s face and studied my best friend and her fiancé.
She shrugged. “It feels like we’re playing twenty questions. It seemed like a good question to start with.”
Steve put his arm around Cherie. “We’re reigning champs in my fraternity house. We’re even better at charades.”
“That would be great, but we can’t really see what he’s doing,” I said.
“Brent can.” Steve turned toward Brent. “If you copy the actions Christopher’s doing, we can guess.”
“Then Christopher can tell us if we’re right or wrong.” Cherie gathered her hair in her hand and brought it over her shoulder.
Even with all the non-normal in my life, it still seemed strange to play charades with a spirit who had crossed over.
Brent focused on the corner for a while then turned to us and lifted his hands, wiggling his fingers while lowering them to his waist.
I covered my mouth to hide my laugh and tried to concentrate. “Rain?”
Brent snuck a glance over his shoulder. “Yep.” He did his wiggling rain fingers to his waist again, then brought his hands out smooth.
“Dirt? Ground?” Steve asked.
Brent checked again. “Yep.” Then he brought his hands up and spread them wide.
“Plants?” Cherie guessed.
“He’s nodding,” Brent informed us. “Okay so now he is doing the same moves, but shaking his head no.”
“No rain, no—”
“Drought?” I cut in. “Maybe it has to do with the drought. Is it the drought in Brazil?”
“Definite yes,” Brent said. “Now he’s doing this again.”
He mimed the plant motion.
“Is it something about the plants in the drought?” I asked.
“Yes. He’s holding up one finger.”
“So, there’s one plant we’re looking for.” Cherie said.
“Is it the mango tomato?” I asked sarcastically.
Cherie threw her pillow at me. “Is it a plant that was destroyed because of the drought?”
Brent ran his finger through his hair. “Huh. He’s making a so-so sort of motion. And now he’s pointing to himself.”
“He’s connected to the plant?” Steve stroked his jaw.
“Pankurem!” Cherie said, dancing in her seat.
“That can’t be it, it wasn’t destroyed.” I reclined back on the couch. “Remember he brought it to Pendrell and gave it to his sons.”
“Whoa.” Brent laughed. He didn’t like that, Yara, based on the look on his face.”
“Sorry, Christopher.”
“I think you’re forgiven.” Brent smirked at me. “Christopher gave you a graceful head nod.” Brent bit on his nails.
“Is it Pankurem, Christopher?” I asked.
“He’s nodding and yet doing a so-so motion. Any ideas what that means?”
We all stared at each other blank faced. Brent gave his attention back to Christopher.
“I think we’re going to have to move on from whatever that word is. But you said you’re connected to the plant?” Brent stared at the corner again. “You had it? You wanted it? Okay . . . he wanted this plant.”
“Why?” I asked, pulling the throw pillow Cherie had tossed at me onto my lap.
“He’s folded his arms and rocking them side to side.”
“Like a baby?” Steve asked.
“Yeah.” Brent tapped his finger against his lips. “You wanted it for your sons?” Brent dropped his hand to his waist. “Now it looks like he’s motioning me forward.”
“Or urging you to continue the thought.” Cherie drew her knees to her chest. “Did it have to do with his sons?”
Brent je
rked his head up and down, his eyebrows pulled together as he watched. “He’s pretending to cough and then take a deep breath.”
“His sons were pretty sick at the end,” Cherie said. “Maybe he thought it would make them better?”
“He’s nodding again and still urging us forward. Oh, now he’s pointing at me.”
“Did it have to do with Lee?” I asked.
“No. He’s shaking his head, but he’s still pointing at me.”
“Okay, so what do we know about you, Brent?” Steve gave Brent a shrewd once over. “You can project.”
Brent nodded. “He’s urging us onward.”
My heart jumped and sunk at the same time.
“You’re sick,” I said, my voice hoarse.
Brent jerked back. “Okay, that was a huge yes.”
Cherie bit her lip, considering. “Because you had your body taken over.”
“Again a yes.” Brent’s voice was quiet
“Remember what Janette said?” I asked. “That we didn’t know everything the Pendrell boys had done? Maybe . . . maybe his sons were starting to take over people’s bodies like Thomas did.”
“Yep, he’s nodding.” Brent gnawed again on his nails.
“Maybe that’s how Thomas got the idea,” Cherie said in a quiet voice.
Steve rubbed his face with his hands. “So Christopher wanted to cure the people whose bodies they’d possessed?”
“Yes.” Brent’s eyes were wide as he stared at Christopher. “Whatever Crosby is looking for in the journals talks about some Pankurem-like plant . . . that got destroyed in the Brazilian drought . . . and that could cure the victims of Pendrell’s sons. People—” Brent’s eyes went wide and he spun toward me. “People who were sick like me.”
The room went dead silent.
Had Crosby been chasing the same cure we were after?
My hands and legs shook as adrenaline rushed through me. “We need to do more research on the drought. We need to find out if there is a list of plants that were destroyed.”
“We could ask Modesto for help,” Cherie said with a grin.
I threw the pillow back at her, suddenly lightheaded with giddiness. “Sure, I have another hour to spare hearing about his newest mango tomato sprout. We read through his paper on the drought. Do you remember any details? Anything about specific plants?”
Cherie blinked at me like she wasn’t sure I was serious and shook her head.
“Do you think Modesto can help us?” Brent asked Christopher. “He’s saying yes.”
“Great. Do you think we can actually get him to talk about something else beside his tomatoes?” I asked Cherie.
“I doubt it,” she said, “but he does have Christopher’s seal of approval.” Cherie rolled her eyes. “Maybe we could ask Christopher if there’s someone else who can help.” She glanced at her phone and frowned. “Oh, he’s gone, right?”
“He’s gone,” Brent confirmed.
Cherie stared at her phone for a second before a wide, glowing grin spread across her face. She held her phone close to her chest and laughed.
“That was the best ninety-nine cents I’ve ever spent!”
I totally agreed.
Brent shifted closer, slipping his hand into mine. I could feel his emotions, a riot of conflicting anxieties and hopes. Still, we had another lead, something we wouldn’t have had without Cherie’s new toy.
The smile on my face crumbled when DJ appeared. The troubled look in his green eyes told me that whatever he’d found wasn’t good. I shot to my feet and stepped closer. “What happened?”
“Who is it?” Cherie asked, jumping to her feet. I ignored her, all of my attention locked on DJ.
“The police picked Vovó up. She’s okay, but she’s in the hospital, Yara.”
DJ stared at me and I searched his eyes for any sign that this might be a cruel joke or a lie. I found nothing.
“I have to go.” I turned to my friends. “DJ says Vovó’s in the hospital.”
DJ placed a steadying hand on my shoulder. “I think Crosby got to her. She seems a little confused.”
It felt like someone had drained the oxygen from the room and gravel was churning in my stomach. Crosby had hurt Vovó. Brent put his arm around me. It was the only thing that kept me on my feet.
“Come on,” he said leading me toward the door. “I’ll drive.”
I’d just spotted my parents in the hallway outside Vovó’s hospital room when my cell phone rang. It’s happy jingle sounded wrong for the moment. My mom had her phone pressed to her ear, but hung up when she saw me. “Yara. I was just calling you,” she said and my own cell phone went silent.
“How did you know, Bonita?” Dad’s eyes were red, but otherwise he seemed okay.
“I sent DJ looking for her. He told me to come here.” I hugged my dad, pressing my face into his chest. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“It’s all right.” Dad rubbed my back. “It’ll be okay. I’ll go in with you.”
My grandma lay in a hospital gown in the bed, looking smaller and older than I had ever seen her. New wrinkles etched the corners of her eyes and mouth, and the silver in her hair had bleached into a pale white.
I expected to find her weak, but when she noticed me, she gave me a wide grin, full of energy.
I stepped closer. “Are you okay?”
She pushed her glasses up her nose. “Sim, they think I didn’t drink enough water and got too much sun. I’ll be out of here soon.”
I sat on the edge of her bed and clutched her hand. “I was so worried. I’m glad you’re okay.”
My free hand grasped the green malachite bead in my coat pocket. A quick glance around her room showed a surprising absence of spirits. Did she have a bead too? Knowing my grandma, she’d more likely been getting rehydrated and crossing spirits over at the same time. She could rock the multi-tasking thing.
“Hey Vovó, did you already clear out all the ghosts? Or do you have your bead? I thought they’d be swarming you.”
Vovó’s mouth opened and genuine surprise flitted across her face. “Ghosts? You think the hospital is haunted?”
I remember DJ saying she’d been confused, probably because of the heatstroke. She must have had a pretty severe case. I gently stroked her hand, which clutched the edge of the hospital blanket. “Vovó, of course it’s haunted; all hospitals are.”
Her face paled. “Really? How do you know?”
“Because I can see them,” I said slowly. A feeling on unease sparked in my gut.
Her eyes widened and she drew her head back. “You can see ghosts? Are you playing a joke on your grandma?”
I swallowed hard. “Do you know what a Waker is, or an Acordera?”
Her hand clutching the sheet started to shake and a trickle of sweat trailed down her forehead. “No.”
The air rushed out of my lungs. I felt like I had been teetering along the edge of the Grand Canyon and Vovó’s words had just pushed me over. I was free falling.
Crosby had stolen Vovó. I knew her body was still here, but an essential part of herself was missing, something as vital to her as a limb. Would she sometimes feel the phantom pains of what he’d ripped from her?
Vovó studied me, over the edge of her glasses. “You don’t look well, Querida.”
I patted her arm and forced a smile. “I’m fine. You’re right. I was only teasing.”
She wagged a finger at me. “You shouldn’t tease an old lady, especially not when she’s in the hospital.”
Tears built behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I gathered her in my arms and held her tight. She still smelled the same: sweet, almost musty like orchids.
The familiar scent and safety of her embrace broke the dam on the tears I’d built. A single tear rolled down each cheek, moistening the fabric of her cheap cotton gown.
How was I supposed to cure Brent and defeat Crosby without my grandma? What would I do if she never remembered being a Waker? With the back of my hand I wipe
d away my tears before she noticed. Trying to gauge how much of her memory she’d lost, I made gentle inquiries until a nurse came in to check on her.
My feet clomped heavily on the walk back to the waiting room, no doubt weighed down by my heart. According to my mom, the doctors felt like Vovó had been lucky and was completely recovered. But no matter what they said, Vovó wasn’t okay.
The glass doors slid open and shut, catching the rays of morning sun. The TV droned, the smell of stale coffee wafted through, mingling in the air with the agitation of those awaiting news of their loved ones.
Cherie and Brent jumped up from their plastic chairs when I emerged. My dismay must have show because Brent instantly put his arms around me. “What’s wrong? Is she not stable?”
I closed my eyes. “Physically she’s fine. The doctors can’t seem to find anything wrong with her.”
“That’s good, right?” Brent asked.
“Crosby got to her.” I stared at a water stain on the ceiling, not wanting to see their faces when I told them about this. “She’s forgotten what a Waker is.”
The magazine Cherie had been reading fluttered to the ground. “What about her knowledge of herbs, the Waker history?”
“Gone.”
“What are we going to do?” Cherie asked, sounding more hopeless than I’d ever heard my bubbly friend.
I sank into the nearest chair, my legs refusing to support me. “I have no idea. Absolutely no idea.”
“We could talk to the American Wakers,” Brent suggested. He stood behind me, rubbing my shoulders.
“They want you for a lab rat; remember? Or maybe a stud for procreating a super genetic Waker baby.”
“I’m only offering my stud services to you.”
Despite the circumstances I smiled. “I don’t trust Kathryn.”
“What about Kalina or Faith?” Cherie asked, sitting across from me. “They seemed willing to help.”
“I’m not sure about them either,” I said.
“So where does that leave us?” Cherie asked, leaning forward in her chair.
“Trying to save the world alone. Again,” Brent said with a huff of laughter.
Cherie rubbed her hand across her forehead. “It feels like high school all over again.”
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