by Marta Szemik
“Did you talk to my mom?” I leaned in.
“Yeah, yeah. She explained.” Eric sat back in his chair.
“And you still think I’m stupid.”
“Brave.” He placed his hands on the table, tapping his fingers.
My eyebrows rose. “What?”
“You’re brave. I don’t know many humans who’d sacrifice their life the way you seem to do, way too often. It complicates things for me.”
“How?” I cocked my head to the side. The clattering of dishes in the kitchen echoed through the restaurant, but I kept my focus on my evil-bender.
“It’s—”
“Please don’t say complicated.” I rolled my eyes.
“It makes my job a bit more difficult, but that’s the way it usually is with watchers. Your sacrifice means I’ll have to make one as well. I’m bound to you.”
“I don’t really grasp the binding thing yet, but you do that anyway, all the time. Especially for me.” With hesitation I placed my see-through hands on top of his.
“It’s my job, Sarah, it’s who I am. I’m not as virtuous as you think.”
“Watching me is more than a job for you, Eric. You know it. I don’t deserve to have a watcher, and you’ve always protected me. You’ve given me everything others have failed to give.” I moved my fingers as if I were embracing his hands between my own.
“What’s that?”
“Love, respect, trust.”
“Because I’m a watcher.”
“Because you’re you.”
He dropped his shoulders. “You know, we may not be able to get your body back.”
I quelled anxiety. “I can’t think about that.”
“Good. Think positive. Save your essence.” His gaze flew toward the window. “Meet me at the hill tomorrow at sunrise. I’ll try to be alone, but if I’m not, don’t show yourself.”
“Mira?” I asked, pulling back my hands.
“Sugar just likes my sugar in the morning.” The lustful smirk on his face made me think of William who had the same one last night, before I gave my body away.
“You’re all alike.” I melodramatically dropped my head into my hands.
“Hey, I’d rather be a lover than a fighter, but that hasn’t worked out too well for me until recently.” The evil bender stood, squaring his shoulders in a business-like manner. “I’ll see you there?”
I nodded.
Eric left money on the table and went to the bathroom. Don’t wait for me to come out, he said in my mind.
A moment later, I heard the wind blow behind the closed door. The trailings of a purple mist escaped through underneath the door, and I imagined it smelled of lilac and lavender.
Great, alone until tomorrow and it’s only noon. I eyed the clock over the bar. The cat’s tail swung off each second. What seemed worse for me was that, as a ghost, I had no sense of time, nor did it matter. If I closed my eyes, hours could pass in a second. If they remained open, the seconds could become hours.
Soon after Eric left, Pinedale whirled in front of my eyes, and I found my ghost floating away from my home town, all on its own. My senses recognized the direction; I was being undeniably pulled toward Huntsville—my spirit wanted me to go to the prison. I concentrated on the warden until I was zooming through the intervening cities and trees, mountains, and valleys, faster by the second. If the warden returned to the prison, he wouldn’t make it back for another three hours—that is, if he’d left Pinedale right away. Travelling as a ghost was similar to flying through time in a vortex, minus the nausea.
In the city, raindrops the size of beans splattered on impact. Though I didn’t get wet, the storm made the prison look spookier than usual. In the tower, the warden’s office was dark. I drifted higher toward his window; the shut drapes blackened the window, and the lights in the room beyond were also off. Good. But before I had a chance to enter and search the office, I glimpsed someone wobbling toward the main entrance so quickly that his mud-covered shoes splashed through puddles, splaying water to the sides. The cuffs of his pants had been soaked from dragging through the water that streamed along the walkway.
I hovered lower. Can’t be.
The oversized steel door of the prison entrance opened before the warden touched the handle. He walked toward the main door, and lamps on each side of the path lit before he passed them, then dimmed to their usual brightness.
Who are you?
Instead of going to his office, the warden strolled through the hall that connected the execution quarters to the guards’ desk, mumbling under his breath, leaving a trail of rain water on the concrete floor. I followed above him, trying to eavesdrop, but he seemed to be mumbling in a different language. Every so often I’d catch a word—“brother,” “betray,”—but as the storm got louder, it became difficult to hear and understand the muttered words.
My ghost vibrated, wanting to leave on its own. Why was I pulled here then?
Thunder sounded outside, but I preferred to face the storm which seemed safer than this facility. The prison held murderers, rapists, and terrorists. It was the harshest in the country, and as much as I despised being inside, the prisoners did not seem as harsh as this man.
The warden stopped. He looked toward the end of the hall, his gaze skimming the ceiling, then, eyes still upward, he turned and examined the corridor behind me, then the other end of the hall. “Who’s here?” he said calmly, searching with his gaze for something I couldn’t see.
I checked to see if anyone else had entered, but no one had, neither corporeal nor ghost.
“Those vampires are trouble. It’s not wise to sign the papers with them,” he grumbled. “Don’t think it’s wise.”
What? Why?
Supporting his weight on a cane, he shuffled up the stairs to his office. I wanted to follow, but something told me not to. Today wasn’t the right time to deal with the warden, especially as a ghost.
Not wanting to spend the approaching night at the prison or in the pouring rain, I thought about Mrs. G and the hill and allowed my ghost to float north. When the storms passed, I stretched my arms out, drifting through the forest and the glowing sunset. I imagined the last heat of the day encasing me as I arrived in Yellowstone National Park.
Chapter 7
I waited outside the hill through the night, watching nocturnal creatures as if they were still my prey. Most mammals were oblivious to my presence and continued their routine, with the exception of a mountain cat. He stared at the spot where I sat, sniffing, then turned on its hind legs and darted into the darkness. Time blended; I couldn’t gauge whether an hour had passed, or a minute. If it weren’t for the nearing day, I wouldn’t know when nighttime turned into daytime.
Eric left Mrs. G’s house just before sunrise, when the orange glow lightened the trees from the bottom. As a daily ritual, he followed Mira through the forest in a vortex, helping her search the perimeter for seekers. Mornings at Mrs. G’s, afternoons in the Amazon—every day for the past four years, they’d secured our homes. I followed them for fifteen minutes before daring to come closer than the treetops.
I know you’re here, Eric said in my mind.
How?
When are you going to understand the meaning of me being your evil-bender?
My evil-bender, I repeated. The voice of my ghost sounded dreamier than my normal voice.
I’m not yours that way. But if you want to think about it that way, fine. Sugar will be a little jealous . . .
Stop it! You men all think alike.
What do you expect? We’re men! Thoughts are the only thing we get to keep to ourselves. Well, usually. You stole internal peace when you gave your body to the witch.
I got serious. Eric, the warden from the prison is hiding something. I don’t think—
You stay away from him, he warned.
Why?
Don’t you have other things to worry about?
Yes, I answered, but when I have my body back, I’ll need to confront him.
Prioritize, Sarah, prioritize.
Have you told Mira about me? I asked.
No, and you’d better keep yourself hidden until I’m alone.
Mira stepped in front of Eric. “You’re distracted.”
I sighed, missing my witty friend.
“Just doing my job, sugar.” He grinned.
“Which job?” Mira placed her hands on her hips and pouted. “You’re hiding something from me.”
See what I mean? Good luck keeping a secret from her. I laughed.
“Nothing can get by you, can it, sugar.” Eric lifted her chin with his fingers and skimmed her lips with his.
“Nope. I’ve worked with you and the ghosts before. What’s the big deal?” She peeked behind Eric, as if trying to see who he was talking to.
“This one’s a bit difficult. She doesn’t know what’s good for her and makes stupid mistakes that could cost her life.”
I do not! I screamed into his ear. Eric grimaced.
“Sounds like someone interesting,” Mira scanned the forest.
Ha! I’m interesting.
“Someone who thinks she has nine lives.”
Take it back or I’ll show myself, I teased.
Stay back, Sarah, Eric warned.
Take it back, I whispered into his other ear, flowing my ghost through him.
Stop that! He wiggled his body like he could feel me.
You don’t like it? I passed through Eric again.
“Eric, why are you wincing?” Mira asked.
You show yourself, and you’re running the chance Xander will find out the truth. He knows Mira better than anyone, Eric warned.
Then you’ll just have to keep your sugar busy so Xander doesn’t suspect. I let my ghost appear.
“What the hell!” Mira jumped back.
“Ta-da!” I swept my arms to the side as if I’d just finished a dance rehearsal and twirled.
“I guess this would be a good time to explain that your best friend switched souls again.” Eric pushed Mira’s chin up to close her gaping mouth.
The sun rose higher. I missed its warmth and the earthy smell of the moss in this forest. The morning fog had almost disappeared, the crisp night air strangling each warm breath.
“Sarah? Why?” She tried poking her finger against my arm.
“I’ll tell you on the way.”
“Where exactly are we going?” Eric crossed his arms.
“You need to take me somewhere where I can safely see my mother.” I flowed through him, just for fun.
“Stop that.” He brushed me off as if I were dust.
“I like this Sarah.” Mira laughed. “It’s like you were born again!”
Eric didn’t agree. Scowling, he twirled his finger to open a vortex. Waves of heat flew toward us, and I didn’t have to feel them to know where we were going as the orange swirls pulled us to the underworld.
* * *
Eric was the first to step out of the vortex. “This is Xela’s old lair.”
We stood in a cave identical to the one Xander had forbidden me to visit. I recognized Mira’s wiggling nose as her effort to find a pocket of fresh air she could stick it in; the air must be stale. A fire burned in the hearth on the side wall. The waves of heat floated languidly toward the root-webbed ceiling; even if I couldn’t feel the warmth, my memory of the underworld’s caves was clear. The intensity reminded me of Aseret’s grand hall.
“Who’s tending to this?” I asked, pointing to the hearth.
“No one needs to keep a fire going in the underworld.” Eric explained.
“Right.” I hovered over to the mantle with its collection of Xela’s jars and pointed to a blob of green mush bobbing in what looked like water. “This one looks like snot.”
“It probably is.” Mira grimaced.
“Can you two be serious for a moment?” Eric motioned for us to come closer.
“How is this place safe?” I asked. “We’re in the underworld.”
“Miranda wouldn’t think to look here.”
“But Xela escaped. This is the first place she’ll look.” I tried to lean on the wooden table but fell through.
Mira contained a laugh. “Yup, you’re definitely reborn.”
“It’s a habit.”
“Leave it to me to confuse Miranda,” Eric said. “I’ll keep you invisible in this lair. When you need to see your mother, come here. She’s expecting you to come to the lair and will be checking when you need her.”
Eric held out his hand and out popped a blue sphere. The sparks sizzled, then calmed as he stared at the ball of blue fire, bending its shape with his mind. The sphere composed its sparks until it almost purred, then transformed into a holographic display of the underworld.
“What else have you got up those sleeves?” Mira asked.
“More than you know, sugar. More than you know.” He pointed to the sphere. “The orange dots you see belong to dead bodies waiting to reunite with their spirits.”
“Waiting? I thought that’s what you did—reunite them,” I said.
“For the past year, we’ve pretended they cannot reunite. Aseret thinks we’ve lost our touch.” He turned the sphere, revealing more orange dots.
“Why?”
“We have a few hundred locations left, and that can be cleared up in a day or so. With the children’s help, it should take a few hours.” He leaned against the table with both arms.
“You can’t expect them to do this!” My ghost vibrated.
“Do you trust me?” Eric asked.
My best friend was no longer smiling. Mira’s expression became serious.
“I do,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I am. I shouldn’t have spoken that way.” He wiped the sweat off his forehead. Mira must have shifted her internal temperature as no beads appeared on her face.
“You have every right to.” I shook my head.
“They’re your children. I understand your concerns, but believe me, they can handle this.” Eric paused. “The problem is Miranda’s body.”
A few loose pebbles fell from the earthen ceiling.
“Why?”
“Spirits come to me at free will to be reunited with their bodies. Someone like Miranda obviously wants her identity secret. I am the last person Miranda wanted to know about her.” Again he paused. “Because I was the one to bind her, and I would do it again.”
“My bender.” Mira hung on his arm, beaming with pride.
“How do I help?” I asked.
“In the next twenty-four hours, find her body. Your mother will help you.”
“And if I can’t?”
“Let Miranda find you and then trick her into showing you where it is.” Eric took Mira’s hand. “We need to go. I’ll leave the plans with you.” He placed the blue holograph on the table. The light hovered inches above the surface. “The orange body markers will disappear as I finish. Our family is the only one who can see it.”
Eric and Mira began to fade, their outlines blending into the background before disappearing through the vortex.
It felt like seconds passed, but perhaps it’s been hours. Either way I’d feel the same.
“Sarah?” I heard my mom’s voice before her ghost appeared.
“Mom.” I hugged her like I never had before. Holding my mom as if she were real still seemed like a dream—one I’d had for decades, and now, I had her. I didn’t know for how long, but she was with me.
“You know, Sarah, if everything goes well, I will no longer see you.” She’d read my mind.
I nodded. “I know.” Part of me wished I could remain a ghost, just to have her at my side. Now that I had children of my own, I knew how difficult it must have been for her not to see me grow up.
“But I will be watching over you.” She found my gaze, holding onto my shoulders.
“Does Father know?”
“No.” My mom shook her head.
“You need to show him,” I said.
“It’s not a priority
right now, and I’m afraid I may not have time.” Turning, my mom floated away, staring into the fire.
“But all these years, you could have shown yourself to him.” I followed to stand right behind her.
“And hurt him?” Her ghost turned, and she took my face into her palms. “Sarah, I let him dream of me. That should be enough. Reminding him of what happened would torture your father.”
“What about reuniting you with your body?” I asked.
“Eric already has it,” she said. “I’m allowed to stay here for a while longer.”
“So, how do we find Miranda’s body?” I asked.
“One place I haven’t searched is Aseret’s dungeons. The mazes here shift.” She pointed to a point near the center of the sphere, then looked up at me. “I’ve been told you know where the dungeons are.”
“If you take me to the grand hall, I’ll remember the way.” Aseret had imprisoned me and my family in one of his magically protected cells. He’d allowed our escape so we would trust Xela—or at the time, Miranda—who posed as a witch named Alex, using Xela’s body.
“Miranda’s ghost has been spotted here.” She touched the map as a maze shifted again. “I have a feeling that’s where she’s hiding.”
“Let’s go, then.” I pulled on my mother’s ghostly hand.
She halted before we flew through the wall. “Make yourself invisible, Sarah.”
“Right.” I shut my eyes. It was the only way I knew to become invisible.
Stifling a chuckle, my mother pulled me through the rock. We flew into the soil and earthen walls, then through empty corridors toward the center of the underworld, the grand hall.
At first, we passed a seeker or two in the passages; some were training, others frozen like statues with glowing orange eyes, waiting for their next order from Aseret. As we neared the hall, their numbers multiplied. I thought I’d seen many seekers, but their population here had grown. The closer we came to the hall, the more numerous and rowdy they became. Fights broke out, the zombie-like creatures screeching and yelping in their high-pitched tones while pouncing on one another, reaching with their twig-like fingers to slit the skin of an opponent with their nails. One swing, and a seeker died.
