In response, Tomas passes through the baby grand piano and coffee table and billows toward us, at first in my direction then Bastian’s.
Bastian’s teeth begin to chatter. He steps back and shakes his head. “I-I don’t think I can do this,” he stammers. “I-I’m getting very cold… like with those g-ghosts at school. I-I can hear my pulse—it’s very fast.”
“That’s normal. Just relax. Now reach out and touch him. Send him kind feelings, compassion. Imagine him stepping into the light,” I say gently.
“B-but—”
“Just try, Bastian. Please.”
He takes a deep, shuddering breath and nods. Then he closes his eyes again and lifts his hand in the air. His lips begin to move.
I watch in wonder as Tomas’s translucent form brushes up against Bastian’s fingertips.
Bastian stumbles backward, then stops and steadies himself.
A moment later they touch—luiseach and light spirit.
Tomas blooms into a radiant ball of light and then flickers, vanishes.
A sense of peace washes over the room.
“Yes! You did it! You helped a spirit cross over!” I shout with a fist pump.
Bastian’s eyes open slowly. His hand is still hovering in the air.
“I did that?” he gasps.
“You sure did!”
He slumps down on the settee, breathing heavily.
“It was so… magical. So ethereal.”
I grin and nod. “Right? Isn’t it amazing? So now do you believe me? Or do you still think you’re suffering from paranoid delusions?”
“I believe you.”
“You’ve passed your luiseach initiation! I mean, not that there’s a luiseach initiation, but… did I mention I’m going to be your mentor?”
“My mentor?”
“Yes. I’m going to train you, teach you everything you need to know about being a luiseach. We’ll start today…” Oh, well. So much for slowly and gradually. I’m just too eager, excited.
Bastian stares at me, totally befuddled.
“First lesson. Telling the difference between light spirits and dark spirits. Pay attention, Bastian, because this is super important…”
As I plunge into my light spirits versus dark spirits lecture, which sounds alarmingly like the one Aidan gave me on the same topic, practically word for word, I feel something I haven’t felt in a long time.
Hope.
Like maybe the luiseach race has a chance after all.
Because I’m not the last of my kind.
CHAPTER 21
The Detour
On my way home from Bastian’s I decide to make a spontaneous detour. At the bottom of Ridge Mountain I take a left instead of a right. Right would have taken me directly downtown and then home. Left takes me home too, but through a different way, along the eastern border of the state park, then onto Route 79, and then onto Pinecone Road, which Ts at Pinecone Drive.
My visit with Bastian was… incredible. Game changing. Life altering. Now I’m definitely beyond just eight-and-a-half-out-of-ten sure he’s a luiseach. I’m absolutely, positively ten-out-of-ten sure. I am not the last luiseach to be born on this planet. That mega-shock wave of energy that my birth released did not entirely doom our race!
And if Bastian exists, that means other luiseach might exist too who are younger than me.
I drive along the edge of the state park, obeying the posted thirty-miles-per-hour speed limit even though I’m the only one on the road. It’s just after six, and strangely the sky is already dark, even though the sun doesn’t usually set until after seven. Ominous black clouds pass across the full moon. Maybe there’s a storm coming?
Now I need to make double, triple, quadruple sure I don’t reveal Bastian’s specialness to Helena and Aidan. Not yet. I want to tell Aidan so much because this is what he’s been working toward for such a long time—the continuation of the luiseach race. The problem is Helena. Because for her, “special” might mean “science experiment fodder.” And/or a death sentence for a luiseach couple, Bastian’s biological parents, whoever and wherever they are. And I can’t let that happen, even if Bastian’s very existence on this planet is my ace in the hole, my definitive, one-hundred-percent, ten-on-a-scale-of-one-to-ten proof that my arrival on this planet sixteen years ago on August 14 didn’t trigger the beginning of the end. My birth obviously triggered something—a number of luiseach women did miscarry that day, and several women even died while in labor, and of course it marked the beginning of the mysterious luiseach deaths in Japan and Easter Island and Australia and Russia, so there are puzzles to be solved there. But… Bastian being here among us means that August 14 wasn’t the final deathblow to the long extinction of our race.
Still, I will have to tell Aidan about Bastian at some point. Just not right away. I’ll have to find the right time when I’m sure Helena won’t be able to do any harm to Bastian or his biological parents.
Where is Helena anyway? I still don’t sense her presence nearby, which is fine for my own Bastian-visiting purposes but a little mysterious. I touch my gold necklace, which is tucked under the fringey purple scarf I bought at an Austin flea market last summer. Does my dear bio-mom think she doesn’t have to watch me so carefully anymore because I’m wearing her mystical protective jewelry? Or does she have other, more important plans tonight? In any case, Aidan would not be happy if he found out she’s blowing off her bodyguard duties, even if it’s just this one time. Not that I’m going to rat her out.
A raccoon or other small animal darts across the road in front of me. I slam on the brakes, and it skitters away into the bushes. Whew.
Route 79 should be just a mile or so up the road. I turn on the radio, and a tear-jerky country-western song comes on. Nope, nope, nope. I continue turning the dial, searching for something more me. Like old, romantic jazz. Or classical… I loved that Bach cello piece Bastian had on at his house.
I land on a local public radio station. I’m about to bypass that too when a news item catches my attention.
“… earlier today a man boarded a bus in downtown Ridgemont and attacked passengers with a machete…”
A machete?
I frown and turn up the volume.
“… three people were rushed to the hospital with serious injuries. The assailant escaped on foot. He’s believed to be armed and dangerous. Witnesses described him as a white male, early twenties, short brown hair, clean shaven, wearing a black suit, white shirt, and black tie. If anyone has any information about his whereabouts…”
I stop the car and shift to “park”—I’m still the only one on the road, except for the raccoons and other critters. I need to process this. Another violent crime in Ridgemont? That’s… how many in one week? Mrs. Ostricher last Saturday, and that girl poisoning her boyfriend, and now this.
A guy in a suit carrying a machete? It sounds surreal, like something out of a bad horror movie.
I tap my hands against the wheel, thinking, thinking.
“In other news, astronomers and astrophysicists worldwide are confounded by the appearance of a second—”
I turn off the radio and pick up my phone. Mom has texted twice:
Are you all right? When will you be home?
And:
Sunshine, please let me know if you’re safe!
I get texts like these from her, like, twelve times a day. Which I don’t mind because actually it’s really nice having a mom who cares and worries and fusses. Especially with everything that’s going on.
I’m totally fine, Mom. I’ll be home soon.
I love you to the moon and back.
I look at my phone and notice my battery is running a bit low. I quickly call Nolan.
He picks up immediately. “Hey!”
His warm, familiar voice makes my heart skip a beat. “Hey. Are you busy?”
“Heading over to the library. It’s just me—Lucio’s not back from Llevar la Luz yet. I miss you. How did it go at Bastian’s?”
“Good. Great. Really great. I’ll fill you in later. Listen, can you add an item to your research list? I want to know if violent crimes are on the rise across the country. And around the world too while you’re at it?”
“No problem.”
“I know Helena mentioned all this before, but… well, I just want to see for myself. The numbers, kinds of crimes, and so forth. Thank you!”
“Sure, of course.”
“Oh, and Nolan?”
“Hmm?”
“I miss you too.”
We say our good-byes and click off. It’s almost pitch-black out, and I realize I need to get a move on if I’m going to stop by Pinecone Drive before heading home for dinner.
Just then I see a movement in the headlights.
Another raccoon?
No, it’s bigger. Way bigger. Maybe a dog?
No, it’s not a dog either. It looks more like a coyote. Or maybe a wolf. Or maybe a mountain lion. Or a regular lion. Yikes.
Whatever it is, it stops in the middle of the road, sniffs the air, and pivots in my direction. It begins creeping slowly toward my car, eyes gleaming, fangs bared.
It does not look friendly.
It probably thinks I’m a predator—or worse, prey. Whatever the case, I need to get the heck out of there.
Shifting to reverse, I back up the car and start to U-turn around.
But behind me is another animal, identical to the first.
No, actually, there are three more of them back there. I seem to be surrounded by four of these not-friendly, huge, lion-like creatures.
Now what?
Whomp!
One of them jumps onto the roof of my car.
Whomp!
Now there are two of them up there. The remaining two slink up to my side windows and peer in, growling and drooling.
Must. Not. Panic.
Helena… Aidan… bodyguards! Where are you guys when I need you?
But I’m on my own here, so I need to do something. Quickly.
The car horn!
I slam my hand against the middle of the steering wheel and press down—hard. The horn blares abruptly, loudly. The two animals at my side windows jump back, startled. At the same moment I shift into drive and gun the accelerator.
As the car jerks forward, the two animals on the roof go flying off, twist in the air, and land in a tall stand of grass by the side of the road. In my rearview mirror I can see them rise to their feet and shake themselves off.
All four animals start running after my car.
This is not good.
I press down on the accelerator and my car goes to thirty… forty… fifty… sixty. My palms are sweaty, and my heart is hammering in my chest. What’s going on? What are these animals, and why are they coming after me? Are they possessed? I didn’t sense plummeting temperatures or any of the other usual signs of demonic presence. Although didn’t Aidan mention something about that the other day? That more and more, demons and dark spirits are able to show up without the usual chill effect? Another sign of the growing darkness, maybe?
I’m not used to Grand Prix speeding down pitch-black country roads being chased by I’m-not-sure-what. I pray I don’t hit anyone or anything or lose control.
Finally. I see the turnoff for Route 79 just ahead. I press down on the accelerator a little more—wah, seventy miles per hour!—and then spot the stop sign half-hidden by a gnarly old pine tree.
I slam on the brakes hard. The tires screech and squeal, and my body is thrust forward as the car comes to a sudden and ungraceful halt.
Breathless, my pulse racing, I glance in the rearview mirror. The taillights of my car cast eerie red pools of illumination on the dirt road.
The animals are long gone.
What were they?
CHAPTER 22
Missing Anna
A few minutes later I pull up in front of Three Pinecone Drive. I’ve managed to calm down, sort of, from the incident by the state park.
Was it an unfortunate encounter with some aggressive forest critters—or something else?
I turn off the engine, find my phone, and text Nolan.
Can you find out what wild animals are indigenous to this area? Especially the state park? And by “wild animals” I mean wolves, coyotes, mountain lions, random nondomesticated cats. Not cute little bunnies or squirrels or chipmunks.
He immediately responds:
Yes. Why? What happened? Are you okay?
I swear, Nolan is totally psychic. Not for the first time I wonder if he’s part luiseach.
I’m fine. I’ll tell you all about it later.
I’ll call you, okay? Around ten?
Will you be up?
Yes, definitely! xoxo
I smile to myself. When did I start adding Xs and Os to my texting vocabulary? Is that what girlfriends do? As I put my phone away I notice the battery’s nearly dead. Argh, I’ll have to charge it when I get home. Aidan is adamant about all of us being able to maintain constant contact with his fancy high-tech phones.
I get out of the car and note that Victoria’s front porch light is on and that the living room lights seem to be on too. Which means that hopefully my old art teacher—and my current English teacher—is home. As I cross the front yard I flash back to when I was here exactly a week ago along with Victoria, Nolan, Helena, Aidan, Mom, Lucio, and Ashley. You could never tell from the neatly trimmed lawn and just-budding spring bulbs that this was the site of a mini-apocalypse that day: the earth splitting open, demons crawling out, complete chaos. An anarchy of evil.
During the past week I’ve seen Victoria in English class every day, squirming uncomfortably in her eighties rocker outfits and Googling “Jane Austen” and whatnot every five minutes. I keep trying to get her alone so I can talk to her, just to catch up and also see how she’s doing… but no go. It’s almost like she’s determined to avoid being Victoria around me. Although I guess it would be kind of a disaster if anyone at the school recognized her as Victoria Wilde, the quiet, eccentric art teacher who tragically “died” on New Year’s.
At the door I lift the old-fashioned brass knocker and knock three times.
The door opens, and Victoria blinks at me in surprise.
“What a strange coincidence! I was just about to ring you. Won’t you come in, dear?”
“Yes, thank you.”
I follow Victoria into her living room. As before, it’s lovely, decorated in peaches and creams. The couch, big and comfy with a pretty flower design, is inviting and warm.
The last time I was in this room Helena was holding Nolan prisoner, and she tried to kill me… but I try not to think about that.
Today Victoria is just Victoria—long, swishy raven hair that’s practically down to her waist, flowing black velvet dress, and lacy black shawl—not platinum-blonde Ms. Warkomski in a hot-pink dress and fishnet tights and Dr. Martens. I missed this Victoria—it’s nice to see her.
“Please sit, won’t you?” she says, gesturing to the flowery couch. “I’ll go and get us some refreshments.”
She disappears into the kitchen and comes back a few minutes later with a tray. Minty, lemony smells waft through the air.
The tray holds a teapot with a delicate rose design, matching teacups and saucers, and a plate of shortbread cookies. Victoria pours tea into the cups.
“This is a special recipe I make out of peppermint and lemon verbena leaves. Both herbs are very calming for the mind and body.”
“Yum. I could use some mind-body calming. Thanks.”
I pick up my teacup and blow on it. Victoria sits down on the couch next to me. Close up, I notice the dark circles under her melancholy brown eyes are darker than ever, worse than mine, even with the beige concealer she caked on. She probably hasn’t slept much lately. Actually I don’t think she’s slept much at all since Anna died. Her husband died that day too (the demon that possessed him took his life), so she’s been pretty much alone in the world since then. Except for our tiny
luiseach tribe of three and a half. Actually four and a half now, with Bastian. And if you count Mom, Ashley, and Nolan, it’s seven and a half.
“Is there a specific reason for your visit, dear, or is this just a social call? Either way I’m very happy to see you,” Victoria says.
“I’m very happy to see you too! I just wanted to say hi and make sure you’re okay. I see you every day in English class, but we haven’t had a chance to talk.”
“Yes, I’m so sorry about that. Your father instructed me to keep an eye on you at school. But I can only do that as my alter ego, Ms. Warkomski, as Victoria Wilde is no longer. As you know, there’s a death certificate for me on file at the Ridgemont county clerk’s office. And I wanted to keep a… what’s that expression? A low profile. I didn’t want people to connect us in any way except as teacher and student.” She adds, “Perhaps I’m being too overly cautious, though.”
“It’s okay, I get it. Why ‘Ms. Warkomski’?”
“One of my best friends growing up was a girl named Susie Warkomski. In 1987 she became the lead singer for a band called the Hell Girls. I think I may have a couple of their cassette tapes around here somewhere.”
Cassette tapes?
I take a sip of my tea and wait for the calm to sink in. “You said before that you were just about to ring me,” I prompt her. I love that word, “ring,” which sounds so old fashioned and British. “Is there something you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Yes, dear.”
Victoria sets her teacup down on a white lace coaster. She gazes across the room at a framed photograph of Anna—not ghost Anna but living, breathing, adorable Anna, laughing and tossing a beach ball in the air while the blue-green ocean shimmers in the background.
“Have you seen her?” Victoria asks me in a voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes! You know, last Saturday. She pulled me out of the demon chasm and saved my life.”
The Sacrifice of Sunshine Girl Page 12
