Well, this was going to feel really stupid. But what did I have to lose? Squaring my shoulders, I looked my reflection in the eyes.
“Who are you?”
My reflection stared back at me. Then each of us looked down at the camera hanging around the other’s neck. Without thinking, I flipped it on and held it up. Now I was watching my reflection through the viewfinder do the same to me.
Only my reflection wasn’t alone anymore.
I stared, transfixed, at the dim shape next to me. It was her: the girl from the waterfall, the girl from the video. My eyes flickered back and forth between the screen and the mirror itself. I could only see her through my camera, and she was nothing more than a faint outline, but she was there. She was definitely there.
“Ana?” I whispered.
Slowly, she shook her head.
Not Ana.
Not.
Ana.
That buzzing noise filled my ears again, like a swarm of bees in my head that drowned out everything but the sound of my heart slamming against my ribs. While I should have been surprised, I wasn’t. I hadn’t been concentrating on Ana when Oscar and I were trying to contact her. And why would she say I want out of her own grave, when she was at rest next to her mother, who’d sacrificed so much for her? Sam and Roland had both pointed out that that didn’t make sense. Even Jamie admitted it was the one part of his and Oscar’s theory that didn’t work. But if this girl wasn’t Ana, then . . .
“Kat?”
Gasping, I nearly dropped my camera. Hailey stood in the doorway, staring at me with wide eyes.
“Hey!” My voice came out extra squeaky. “I was just, uh, taking pictures! Of, um . . .” I glanced nervously at my reflection, which was alone. “This mirror.”
“Oh.” Hailey twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “Your dad was looking for you; I think they’re almost ready to start. I told him I saw you come back here.” She paused. “Are you okay? I thought maybe you were crying or something.”
“I’m not crying,” I said in surprise. “Why?”
“Well . . .” Hailey drew a deep breath, and I braced myself for a ramble. “You and Oscar just had a fight in the lobby, obviously, and now he’s acting all weird and you’re hiding back here. I just thought maybe the fight was about Jamie? Because he likes you and he told Oscar the other night? And Oscar seemed fine with it, but I don’t know, then you guys were all yelling at each other in the lobby, and—”
“Hailey,” I interjected. “That’s not why we were fighting at all, I promise.”
“Oh.” She gave me a shrewd look. “So this isn’t one of those stupid love-triangle situations? Where you’re, like, all torn between two boys or whatever? Because I hate when that happens in movies and stuff.”
Despite everything, I couldn’t help giggling. “No. I like your brother.”
Closing her eyes, Hailey tilted her head back and whispered: “Ew.” Then, shaking herself, she smiled at me. “Okay! So what happened with Oscar?”
“He was being a jerk, that’s what. Nothing new.” I felt a flash of guilt for saying it, but I was still too hurt to care.
“You guys argue a lot,” Hailey said thoughtfully. “Usually about little stuff, though. I’ve never seen you look that mad at each other.”
“Yeah.” I adjusted my camera strap, glancing in the mirror one more time before heading to the door. “Maybe we’re just not cut out to be friends.”
Her eyes widened. “Don’t say that!”
I shrugged, my stomach twisting again. “Why not?”
“Because . . .” Hailey scrunched her nose. “Well, because you guys are like me and Jamie.”
“Ha.” I walked past her out of the sacristy, and she hurried to keep up at my side. “Trust me, Hailey. It’s not like that at all.”
“Okay, well . . .” Hailey grabbed my arm, stopping me before we reached the pews. Her bright blue eyes were very serious. “When someone annoys you so much you want to scream, but you love him anyway because you can’t help it? That’s what it’s like having a brother. Just so you know.”
With that, she headed to the back of the church, leaving me feeling more guilty and frustrated than ever. I could see Oscar waiting by the entrance to the courtyard talking to Mi Jin. The rest of the cast was listening to Professor Guzmán prattle away excitedly near the altar. Inés and a few other students stood not far from them, and I couldn’t help noticing the way Inés kept shooting glares in Guzmán’s direction. Dad waved at me before slinging a cable coil over his shoulder.
“Ready to head down there, Kat?”
“Coming.” Adjusting my camera strap one more time, I took a deep breath. Time to get this fake séance over with.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
UGLY LITTLE LIARS
THE catacombs had been warm when we entered, but after a few minutes crammed with over a dozen people, the air was hot and stifling. The atmosphere was tense, too. Guzmán’s students sat around the table, whispering among themselves, while Inés glowered silently. Jess was filming Guzmán, who stood in front of one of the skull circles, talking cheerfully and holding up the fake journal. I started heading over to where Dad was talking to Lidia, but Mi Jin stopped me.
“Stand over there next to Oscar,” she said distractedly, adjusting the mic on top of her camera. “We don’t have enough footage of you two for this episode so far. I’m supposed to get some before we start.” She glanced up when I groaned. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I stalked over to where Oscar was leaning against the wall, Mi Jin right behind me. Her camera’s red light flickered on, and every muscle in my body tensed.
“So, guys,” Mi Jin said brightly. “On the latest Graveyard Slot video, you tried contacting Brunilda, but ended up getting what looked like it might be the same message you got back in Salvador. A few minutes ago, Oscar filled me in on a pretty interesting theory.”
I closed my eyes. He’d already done it. Of course he had. The traitor.
“Yeah, I think Ana Arias followed us,” Oscar said shortly. He wasn’t using his usual cheesy reporter voice; he sounded angry. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. Right, Kat?”
He stared at me pointedly. I focused on a spot above Mi Jin’s head, fists clenched at my sides. “Actually, no,” I said. “It’s not.”
Mi Jin smiled encouragingly. “Then why do you think you got the same message?”
“Because we faked it.”
Her eyebrow ring shot up, the smile vanishing from her face. “What?”
“Yeah, we faked it.” I turned to face Oscar, whose mouth was open. “Right?”
The red light went off. “Did you really?” Mi Jin asked softly, lowering her camera. Her disappointed expression was almost enough to make me tell the truth.
“No!” Oscar sputtered, still staring at me. “What are you doing? You said you saw Ana at the waterfall, and—”
I shrugged. “I lied. I made it all up, just like Guzmán did. Guess it’ll fit with the theme of this episode, huh?” With that, I walked over to where Roland leaned against the wall, watching everyone at the table. A few seconds later, Oscar appeared at my side.
“Why did you do that?” he said in a loud whisper. “They won’t use it on the show!”
I smiled humorlessly. “Aw, what a shame.”
Oscar’s eyes were bugging out. “Kat, did you just—are you seriously pretending you made up all that stuff about Ana just so you won’t be on TV for a few extra minutes?”
“I’m not pretending,” I said to my feet. “It was all a lie.”
Roland was looking at us curiously. “Ana?”
“Yup.” My voice rose a little. “I lied about seeing her. Sorry.”
I kept my eyes fixed on the floor, willing them to start the séance so I wouldn’t have to answer any more questions. I was a terrible lia
r, but it didn’t matter. No one could prove I hadn’t lied, and now they wouldn’t use any of the Ana stuff on TV. Take that, Oscar.
“Everyone, thank you so much for being here,” Guzmán said grandly, spreading his arms in a welcoming gesture. The hum of chatter died down. Jess and Mi Jin were slowly circling the table, their cameras trained on the professor. He seemed relaxed and happy, totally oblivious to the tense expressions and shifty glances going on around him. “The last year has been extraordinary, to say the least. When my students and I first gathered together down here to contact Brunilda, I never dreamed we’d get the results we have since received. Tonight, you will see—and record—proof that paranormal activity is real.”
I didn’t dare make eye contact with anyone else. I almost felt sorry for Professor Guzmán, who clearly had no idea the whole cast was onto his lies.
“We typically begin our séances with a reading from Brunilda’s journal,” Guzmán went on. “Ms. Bettencourt, seeing as the experience of possession is something you have in common with Brunilda, I was wondering if you might do the honors?”
He handed her a sheet of paper, which Lidia accepted with a tight smile. Jess knelt at her side for a close-up, while Mi Jin continued prowling the small room, filming everyone’s reactions as Lidia read.
“Today when I dipped my fingers into the holy water, it burned like acid. But though it felt as if my skin were melting off the bone, my hand was unblemished.”
I did my best to ignore Mi Jin’s camera and focus on my own. Who was the ghost I kept seeing through the viewfinder? I had to make her reveal her identity.
“My fellow sisters were watching, so I gritted my teeth and touched the water again, then anointed my face as they had done, thinking perhaps this would drive away the evil taking residence inside me.”
Maybe I should just dunk my camera in holy water, I thought wryly. A nagging sensation started in the back of my mind, like I’d forgotten something important. Something about water. The waterfall? No, the pool, the first time I’d seen the ghost. I tried to focus, picturing everything about that moment. The way she’d looked at me, waved at me. I couldn’t see a single feature, but somehow I’d just known she was a girl.
“Throughout the service, I struggled not to scream or cry from the pain, certain that by the end my grinning skull would be exposed.”
And then I’d dropped my camera in the water.
“Then everyone would see me for what I truly am now. They would see the monster.”
The buzzing noise returned full force, and I squeezed my eyes closed, willing it to stop. A few seconds later I could barely make out Lidia’s words.
“But a peek in the mirror revealed my looks had not changed. I wish I could say the same for my soul.”
For a split second, the world went silent. My head felt like it was gripped in a vise, the pressure so intense I couldn’t even scream. Then it released, and I gasped for air, leaning heavily against the bones. There was a shout and a crash, but my vision was too blurred to see what was going on.
The room was loud now, everyone talking at once, chairs scraping back. When I blinked and squinted, I half expected to see them all crowded around me. But when things came back into focus, I saw they were all surrounding Mi Jin, who had dropped her camera. Jess was still filming as Lidia helped Mi Jin inspect her equipment for damage.
“It just . . . it was like someone knocked it out of my hands,” Mi Jin was saying, her voice shaking a little.
Guzmán smiled. “Brunilda is with us,” he said. “Back to your seats, please.” His students sat quickly, their expressions ranging from excited to nervous. Dad eyed Guzmán with suspicion as he returned to his chair.
A light pulsation on my chest caught my attention, and I looked down to see my Elapse turning off and on, lens extending and retracting over and over. I pressed the power button a few times, but it wouldn’t stop. Oscar watched me, but didn’t say anything.
“It’s rolling,” Mi Jin said, the red light on her camera blinking back on. I gripped my Elapse, worried that the light mechanical whirring would disrupt the séance. But no one seemed to notice.
“Brunilda Cano . . .” Guzmán’s voice was soft, almost hypnotic. His students all wore intense expressions of concentration, except for Inés, whose face was growing steadily redder. “Welcome back. We’d like to talk to you about your exorcism.”
The room was still. I stared down into my camera lens, watching it open and close like a blinking eye, catching my reflection every other second. Who are you?
A sliver of an idea crept into my mind, like that first thin line of brightness on the horizon at sunrise, but it slid out of sight before I could fully grasp it. Guzmán was still talking, his words nothing more than a drone. Because it was here. I could feel it. The monster, whatever it was, the one I’d sensed at the willow tree. It was in this room.
Someone cried out in shock. I watched in a detached sort of way as the table, the entire table, rose up off the ground an inch, two inches. For a few seconds, everyone froze. Then the table fell with a heavy thud, and chaos erupted.
Inés shot to her feet, rapidly screaming at Guzmán in Spanish. The other students looked shocked at first, though it wasn’t long before understanding dawned on their faces as they listened to her rant. Turning to Lidia, Inés clenched her fists at her side. “Show him the journal,” she pleaded. “Please.”
Lidia exchanged a glance with Dad before slowly pulling the journal from her bag and holding it up for the others to see. “We got this from a shop in Plaza Dorrego,” she explained, flipping through the blank pages for Jess’s camera. “Identical to yours. And we have proof that the woman you claim is Brunilda in that photo is actually Sister María Carmen Romero.”
“There are no records of a nun by the name of Brunilda Cano at this church,” Dad added somberly. “Would you care to explain, Professor?”
The room fell absolutely silent. It was as if we were all collectively holding our breaths, staring at Guzmán and waiting. He clasped his hands, exhaled slowly, and smiled.
“Yes. I created Brunilda Cano. She never existed.”
Inés sat down heavily in her chair, glowering. But two of his other students began yelling like she had, while a third stomped out of the room. Jess and Mi Jin were doing their best to capture all the reactions; Lidia and Dad looked disappointed but unsurprised, and Guzmán seemed weirdly calm, even pleased. Sam was running his hands under the table, brow knitted. He turned in our direction with a questioning look. I glanced up and saw Roland was smiling.
“What?” Oscar asked. “Why are you so happy?”
“Because Guzmán’s experiment worked. It’s brilliant.”
“What? He made her up. She doesn’t exist.”
“He made her up,” Roland agreed. “But she exists.”
Oscar looked as bewildered as I felt. “That doesn’t make sense.”
Sticking his hands in his pockets, Roland surveyed the unfolding chaos as Guzmán attempted to calm his angry students. “The table levitated,” he said, apparently enjoying himself now. “A force knocked Mi Jin’s camera from her hands. The temperature dropped. Brunilda might be fake, but the paranormal activity? That was real.”
I couldn’t process what he was saying. Oscar kept asking questions, but all the talking and yelling blurred into a dull noise. Someone was looking at me. Someone standing on the staircase. I turned slowly and saw the shape of her in the shadows. She beckoned for me to follow and I did, slipping out before anyone could see, my camera still pulsing on-off, on-off against my chest.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE OTHER DAUGHTER . . . NOW IN 3-D!
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Thread: The Kat Sinclair Files
Kbold04 [new member]
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Strike three, buddy. You’r
e out.
SHE stuck to the side of the church, creeping against the stained glass–covered wall like a shadow. I followed her at a crouch. Guzmán’s student, the one who had walked out in anger moments before I did, was talking to Abril and Thiago—describing all the drama downstairs, I assumed. Abril was translating everything he said for Jamie and Hailey, who must have been waiting in the church for us to finish filming. None of them saw us, two girls slipping behind the columns, around the last pew, and out the doors.
It was harder to see her outside now that the sun had set. But that didn’t matter, because I knew where she was going. My camera continued whirring on and off as I hurried into the park and down the dirt path, occasionally tripping over a root in my haste. I’d lost sight of her completely—until the willow tree came into view.
She stood across the clearing, and I slowed to a halt. Slowly lifting her arm, she waved at me, just as she had back at the waterfall. Then she vanished.
I broke into a run, camera thumping against my chest. The thin, delicate hanging leaves grazed the top of my head as I circled the willow, slipping over the smooth gray rocks piled around the roots. I had to see her face. I had to know who she was.
Finally, I stopped, hands on my knees as I struggled to catch my breath. Something on the bark caught my eye. A message, crudely carved into the trunk.
I GOT OUT
My camera was still turning on and off, so I pulled my phone out of my pocket and snapped a picture. Stepping closer, I touched the letters one at a time, tracing them, feeling each deep, angry scratch. A sliver of wood slit the tip of my finger, and I winced. The Elapse fell silent as the lens retracted and the power light turned off. The world tilted. I leaned my head against the tree and closed my eyes briefly.
“What are you doing?”
Gasping, I spun around to find Oscar standing a few feet away. His gaze moved from my bleeding finger to the trunk, and his eyes widened.
“Is that . . .” He stepped closer. “Did you do that?”
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