inevitablepub

by Lani Woodland

  “That is a small taste of what I can do.” Crosby traced his finger down the side of my face. “Tell me where it is.”

  I was glad I didn’t have his answer. In that moment, I would have told him anything to make it stop, confess anything to avoid more of that pain.

  Could I go through that again, could I even survive it? With a sob, I mentally squared my shoulders. I couldn’t surrender. If I did, he’d go after my friends.

  My friends! What he had he done with them? Were they being tortured too? Is this what grandma had gone through? My poor vovó. She had survived, probably fighting him every step of the way. I would do no less.

  He swooped in again, rifling around in my brain like it was an old card catalog, shuffling through information, sifting through memories, tossing aside what he didn’t want.

  Random images popped in my head starting out as wisps of smoke before fully forming. He sorted through my life, watching the scenes emerge before moving on. People, places, and events, some I’d long since forgotten, were examined and discarded. I tensed, squirming against my restraints. Fissures of pain threaded through my head, like shrapnel behind my eyes.

  I wasn’t strong enough. This was going to kill me if I couldn’t fight back. Something blocked me from pulling the moisture in the air or from calling the wind to my aid. Maybe it was from the injection they’d given me, or maybe it was Crosby in my brain, but I felt cut off from everything and everyone but him. Flashing scenes still flipped through my head. I couldn’t handle this. Each image hurt. My mind felt fractured, cracked, broken into unrecognizable pieces, like my mind would melt and leak out my ears. Words were getting harder to remember, the people in my memories no longer had names, I didn’t even know who I was . . .

  Cool hands stroked my cheek. Their gentleness brought me back from the brink.

  “Hello, Cupcake,” the familiar tone of DJ’s voice drifted through my ear. He stood to the side of Crosby, his fingers carefully touching me. DJ. A lifeline, reminding me who I was. He had to get away or Crosby would hurt him. I mouthed the word ‘run’.

  DJ shook his head. “I’m not running. I’m here to rescue you. I had a feeling you could use my help.”

  He squinted his eyes, forcing himself between Crosby and me.

  The veil of pain, the intrusion, all of it faded away.

  “That’s it. Stare into my eyes,” DJ said in a soothing voice.

  As my agony lifted, DJ shuddered and winced. Somehow he was taking my pain, like how we’d shared energy.

  His fingers slid through my skin to my spirit beneath. “I would’ve been here sooner, but I needed to call in the cavalry. You gave us all a good scare.”

  His words seemed far away, like I was hearing them through water. Behind DJ, I could see Crosby seething as he pulled back from me, his face twisted with anger.

  “What’s happening? Why can’t I access her thoughts anymore?”

  My eyes stayed on DJ. I opened my mouth to ask him something, but he shook his head. “Don’t say anything. He doesn’t know I’m here. No one else here can see or hear me.”

  Crosby focused on me again and DJ flinched, sucking in a labored breath that turned into a gasp.

  In a shaky voice he explained, “I can only do this because of our bond.”

  I glanced around at the other spirits in the room, the ones controlled by Clarke. DJ laughed, but it was a sound tinged with agony. “I’m not like those compelled ghosts. Being tied to you, I’m more than a normal spirit, and can make it so only you can see and hear me. Your grandma explained it to me one day. When I chose to be bound to you, to fully trust you, well, it turns out it comes with some privileges. A few you already knew about and now you know another one.”

  Sweat broke out on his upper lip, something I didn’t know spirits could do. His limbs and arms shook.

  “This is a true spirit bond.” He rested his forehead against mine, staring into my eyes, a completely different experience than when Crosby had done it. He was breathing life into me instead of sucking it out. “This is how it’s supposed to be. Not like this poor imitation Crosby and those other Wakers have dreamed up.”

  Crosby wormed into my brain again, but I felt no pain.

  DJ jolted as if electrocuted, his body leaning more heavily against mine.

  “Yeah, okay, that stung.”

  My eyes pleaded with him, begging him to not let himself get hurt.

  “That’s sweet of you, but I’m already dead, remember? I’m trying to keep you from joining me.” He clenched his jaw. “Now, on three, imagine pushing him out of your head. One, two, three . . .”

  Concentrating, I pictured a shield around my brain, an expanding sphere that shoved back Crosby’s tentacles, hammering them back like a battering ram.

  Crosby screamed and stomped his foot like a toddler denied a piece of candy. He loosened his tie and spun to the left.

  “Clarke, explain to me how she locked me out.”

  DJ grinned at me. “We did it. We can fist bump later.”

  A woman, maybe in her thirties, came up beside him. It had to be his Waker, Clarke. Her forehead crinkled and she shook her head. “I’m not sure. Her mind should be yours to control.”

  “And yet it’s not.” He ground his teeth. “Make it happen.”

  “Let him access the information he needs,” she ordered. There was a power to her command, a weight that made them more than words and they hit me like a physical blow, pressing me firmly against the chair. But then their strength vanished, rolling off me like water.

  Crosby tried again to slither into my head, but we shoved him out again.

  “It didn’t work! She’s still blocking me.”

  “Let him in,” Clarke demanded.

  “No,” I said through gritted teeth.

  She walked over to me and slapped me across the face. The hands holding me let go and my chin fell to my chest, my cheek burning and my eyes tearing. DJ almost snarled at her, but lifted my chin and kept his eyes locked on mine, refusing to break the connection we had, the one thing saving me.

  “How are you doing this?” She put a hand on each of the arms of the chair, her long brown hair touching my skin.

  “Don’t say a word!” DJ warned. “Just concentrate on me.”

  I bit my tongue and kept staring at DJ. He winked at me. “Good girl.”

  She slapped me again. I closed my eyes as my head snapped to the side and then brought my eyes back to stare at my friend’s. Blood coated my taste buds.

  “I’m a Matriarca. Submit.” Clarke’s brown eyes narrowed when I didn’t comply.

  She studied me as DJ shifted his position. Her eyes lit up in triumph and she smirked.

  “She has a spirit attached to her. It’s helping her.” Clarke locked her attention on where DJ was standing and took a deep breath. “Spirit, release her.”

  DJ snorted. “No thanks. Help is coming, Yara. Just keep hanging on.”

  “There’s a ghost there, but it isn’t obeying me.” Clarke put her hands on her curvy hips. “I’m stronger than she is. She’s a mere girl, not fit to take my place. The spirit should be obeying me.”

  “A ghost?” Crosby asked. “Who?”

  “I can’t tell; they’re fused.” Clarke thrust her hand in the air where DJ was squatting, her hand passing through him.

  He smiled and sighed. “The cavalry’s here.”

  The door exploded open. A gust of wind burst into the room, so strong it almost tipped my chair over.

  “Yara!” Brent’s voice roared.

  “She’s over here. The one tied to the chair,” DJ deadpanned.

  He stepped back, breaking our connection, and all my fatigue returned, the world swinging wildly back into a disjointed blur of sights and sounds.

  Blasts of air tangled my hair. Brent’s gentle hand lifted my chin, brushing my cheek with a thumb, his brown eyes washing over me for a moment before he turned his attention to Crosby’s men.

  The windows exploded, one after
the other, a cascading eruption of flying glass shooting across the room. Screams and grunts punctuated the air. Still tied to the chair, I panted in the calm eye of the storm while the battle raged around me.

  My eyes struggled to focus, catching only glimpses of the ferocious struggle. Crosby fleeing. Brent and DJ hurling everything from fists to burning furniture at the remaining bodyguards. Faith shouting orders and throwing ghost-be-gone to push past the swarm of compelled ghosts protecting Clarke. Janette covering her back. Smoke pouring from a burning ficus in the corner.

  Someone stopped by my chair, hands fumbling to untie me. I collapsed into a pair of arms. Kalina, a part of me recognized. She slipped her arm around my waist and DJ reappeared at my other side, pulling my arm around his shoulders.

  The overhead sprinklers gushed, the cool water helping to revive me. I forced one foot in front of the other, resting my weight on Kalina and DJ. The two guided me through the chaos and out the door. After what felt like a million stairs, we reached the door; the sunlight blinded me.

  They guided me to a dark SUV and Kalina lifted me into the back seat. She closed my door and was gone. I lay across the bench, my head resting on DJ’s ghostly lap. His cool fingers rubbed across my forehead, soothing me.

  The driver’s side door opened and Brent appeared. Blood trickled from his nose. I didn’t know if it was his illness or from the fight. Maybe both. He took a deep breath and smiled. “You’re alive.”

  “If you want to keep her that way, we need to get out of here,” DJ said, snapping his fingers.

  Brent climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “Kalina already took off in the decoy SUV.” Brent angled the rear view mirror towards me as we pulled out of the parking garage. “Is she okay?”

  “Yeah. She’s worn out, but her mind’s intact. He didn’t erase anything. And I don’t think he pulled any information out of her.”

  “You were able to help? It really worked?”

  DJ snorted. “Of course it did. It was my idea.” DJ drummed his fingers against his thigh, his face lacking its usual smug expression. “If I’d been there even a second later, well, it wouldn’t have been pretty.”

  I wanted to say thank you, but I couldn’t speak. My throat was too dry and my body too exhausted. Without DJ, though, I wouldn’t have lasted much longer. I grabbed his hand and squeezed, trying to tell him without words.

  He patted my hand and smiled down at me, but he looked as tired as I felt. “You’re welcome.”

  I swallowed and drew a little energy from DJ. Just enough to talk. There were things I had to know. “What happened after they grabbed me? Did Cherie and Steve get away? Where are they?”

  DJ looked out the window and Brent’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.

  “What happened?” My heart leaped up to my tonsils and I pushed myself up, drawing more energy from DJ.

  “They’re fine, but Cherie broke her arm and Steve broke his leg. They’ll be released in a few hours.”

  “You have to take me to see them.” Cherie’s bravery, spunk, and take-no-prisoners attitude made her seem practically invincible, but she wasn’t. She’d been caught in the crossfire of my fight. Steve too. Because of me.

  “It isn’t safe, Yara,” DJ said. “It’s the first place Crosby will look.”

  “For once, he’s right,” Brent said. “I’m not putting you in any more danger.”

  “But it’s my fault they’re there. I mean, I know Crosby is responsible, but being my friend is what put them at risk. I have to see them.”

  “You aren’t family; they won’t let you in.” Brent turned off his blinker before switching lanes.

  “Then I’ll project and walk in. Please, Brent.”

  He immediately shook his head. “No, the best thing you can do for them is stay away. They’re safer there if you aren’t with them. Besides, you’re always saying how many spirits there at hospitals. It’d be too easy for Clarke to turn them against you.”

  I couldn’t argue with his logic. “I hate it when you’re right.”

  “I know.” He gave me a half-hearted grin. “Don’t worry. When they’re released, they’re both staying at your house. And your sister’s coming. Even my mom agreed your house was the safest place right now. We’re circling the wagons.”

  “Good thinking.”

  Brent rubbed his knee as he drove.

  “They must have known about Neal’s weak knee,” Brent complained. “One of the guards kicked me right where Neal hurt his.”

  I met Brent’s eyes in the rear view mirror, quirking one eyebrow. “And they used that against you?”

  “Yeah, I have his peanut allergy. Why shouldn’t I have his physical problems too? Lucky for me my leg didn’t give out. I think one of the other curse victims had a bad shoulder because mine gets sore for no reason sometimes.” He rolled his left shoulder, a grim smile stretching across his face. “At least I took down all three of the guards, even if temporarily.”

  I rested my head against the window. We were on a freeway I didn’t recognize, zooming past strip malls and lines of palm trees. DJ wore a troubled expression.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, touching his wrinkled forehead.

  He blinked a few times and then smiled. “I remember how I died.”

  I took his hand in mine. “I’m sorry. Was it horrible?”

  “It wasn’t great.” He squeezed my hand, but shook his head. “But my memory returning is a good thing. A very good thing. I remember why they killed me, and why they went after everyone who could help you. And I also know why he was meeting in a bus terminal.”

  I turned in my seat, intent on DJ. “You do? Why?”

  “I stole the journals. They found me at the bus terminal, and they must think I left them in a locker there.” He smiled. “But I didn’t. I’d already hidden them.”

  “Where did you leave them?”

  “At Pendrell.”

  “You left them at Pendrell?” Brent asked. “Why?”

  “I figured it’s the last place he’d look. I buried them near a tree by the pool house that Yara almost demolished.”

  He gave me a grin. “I knew how you’d feel about the journals being there. It always comes back to Pendrell.”

  I bit my lip, considering. “Did you get a chance to read them?”

  He shook his head. “No. I stole them, ran, and hid them. His goons caught up with me before I could go back.”

  “I don’t understand why he wasn’t able to steal the memory from your mind. I could feel him sifting through mine.”

  “His goons . . . ” DJ’s eyes darkened. “They questioned me and finished me off before he had a chance.”

  I couldn’t repress my shudder. “I’m sorry.”

  He dipped his head and looked away. “Thank you.”

  “I wish I could help in some way.”

  “You will. You’re gonna make him pay.”

  I wanted to retrieve the journals right then, but Brent worried I was being watched, and that it would be better if he went with DJ, who quickly agreed. They also pointed out that I would be worthless in a fight right then, unable to have anyone’s back, especially since I could barely sit up on my own. After dropping me off at home, they immediately headed out to Pendrell.

  Sometimes I longed for the days when they didn’t get along so well.

  Kalina, Faith and Janette were all at my house by the time Brent and DJ returned.

  Brent handed me a dirt encrusted plastic bag heavily crisscrossed with duct tape. Hacking it open with a pair of scissors, I found two journals inside. “Only two?” I asked DJ.

  He shrugged. “Those were all I could grab.”

  Faith immediately started studying the journals, frowning when she finished flipping through them both.

  “These don’t have anything important in them. Why does he want them?” Faith asked.

  DJ gave us a grin. “Because he has no idea what’s in them. I stole them from Pendrell the night of the
fire before he could read them. All he knows is that he’s missing two. I buried them right away. Turns out it was a good idea”

  A knock at the front door was quickly followed by an excited squeal from my grandma. “Dalva, Janae. What are you doing here?”

  Had I heard that right? My great-aunt and cousin were here? Before I could check, they joined us in the living room, the clack of their wheeled suitcases following behind them. They were both dressed for comfort in yoga pants and hoodies, Dalva’s hair loose around her shoulders and Janae’s in a sloppy ponytail.

  Janae yawned before waving. “Surprise.”

  “Not that it’s not great to see you.” I slid to the edge of the couch. “But what are you doing here?”

  “Brent called us and let us know everything that’s been going on. We thought you might need our help.”

  Dalva led grandma to the kitchen.

  Janae dropped beside Kalina and asked, “So, anything new and interesting happen in your life since I saw you last?”

  The wry tone of her voice made my lips twitch into a smile. Despite the weight of the world crushing me, I laughed. I laughed until I cried and my stomach muscles cramped. And it felt good. With everyone’s help, she was soon caught up on everything that had happened.

  About an hour later, Cherie and Steve hobbled their way into the living room. Cherie had a temporary cast wrapped around her arm and Steve awkwardly navigated the room on crutches. Cherie also sported a gash on her forehead and black eye. Steve’s nose was covered in gauze and his bottom lip had swelled to twice its normal size.

  Cherie grunted as I hugged her tight. “If you don’t want to break another bone, you need to loosen your grip, Yara.”

  I tightened my embrace.

  Her voice was thick with emotion and she hugged me back just as hard. “It’s good to see you too. I was so worried when they drove away with you.”

  Cherie cleared her throat and settled onto the couch. Despite having one arm in a cast, Cherie was thumbing through the apps on her phone.

  “There’s a ghost here.” She smiled at me. “Best ninety nine cents ever.”

  Faith and Kalina shared an amused look. Janae snorted. “There are two.”