Deception

by Lee Nichols

  “Fine.” She frowned in concentration, and a befuddled old man wearing nothing but long johns appeared beside us. She wrinkled her nose. “Where are all the cute ghosts when you want them?”

  “You didn’t just …”

  She raised one brow. “I did.”

  Thank you, I told the old ghost. Sorry to, um, interrupt. I shooed him back to wherever he came from, poor old guy.

  “Where’d he go?” Natalie asked.

  I executed a flawed but recognizable Gallic shrug. Martha wasn’t the only one who’d been practicing.

  “You got that from Celeste, didn’t you?” she asked.

  She knew Celeste? Did she know Bennett? Who the hell was she? My sharp intake of breath caught the attention of Mr. Z.

  “Is everything all right here, ladies?” he asked.

  “Fine,” Natalie said.

  “I was shocked,” I said, “by her correct usage of the dative case.”

  “Excellent,” he said, and strolled past Harry, who in the nick of time stopped trying to translate MILF into Latin.

  Natalie and I had three classes together, including Fencing. Which was great. Now she and Sara would have some quality time together and become best friends. Both beautiful, both freakishly self-confident and, well, let’s just say I was happy I’d always been nice to Kylee. After Natalie and Sara met, we’d have plenty of time together.

  To delay the inevitable, I tried rushing Sara out of the locker room. But Natalie, of course, didn’t let me. She chatted with me like we were friends, then introduced herself to Sara.

  Despite my worries, they were not a match made in heaven. Sara turned on the frost—that polite rich-girl chill she did so well. I didn’t know why she did it, but I loved her for it.

  Of course, class itself wasn’t great. First, Natalie looked tons better in her fencing costume than I did. Then Coach paired the two “new girls” after the drills, called “Play!” and Natalie kicked my ass.

  I was tempted more than once to ignore the rules, change my grip, and see what I could really do. The Rake had drilled me in switching hands in the middle of a fight and slashing at the femoral artery. Or the eyes. Or wrist.

  But instead, I took an honorable beating. At least the jock boy ghosts hadn’t appeared.

  At lunch, Harry asked Natalie to sit with us, and flirted outrageously, completely infatuated. She called him Harrison, making him her slave forever.

  After lunch, Coby walked me to Advanced Biology. “So what’s the story?”

  “With Harry? Hormones.”

  “With you and Natalie.”

  “Oh. No story really.” Then I realized this was Coby—I trusted him. “We were friends, or at least I thought we were. She encouraged me to have a party—because my parents are gone, you know? Then when the cops came, she told them I was living alone, plus I’m pretty sure she called them in the first place. So I spent the night in a halfway house and ended up here.”

  “So she’s evil.”

  “Incarnate.”

  Coby half smiled. “On the other hand …”

  “If you say she’s hot, I’ll bite you.”

  “ … If it weren’t for her, you’d still be in San Francisco. And I kind of like that you’re here.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  He laughed. “You’re welcome.”

  I liked that he got my awkward randomness. We stopped outside the classroom door and I said, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.” And suddenly, I was looking forward to it.

  I obsessed about Natalie all through fifth and sixth period and then found her waiting at my locker when school was over. Thatcher’s lockers were all housed in lounges; apparently there was a lot of negotiating and jockeying each year for the best spots. You had to be voted in. Thankfully, I’d missed all that and was assigned to the “Lame Lounge” with the other nerds. Though, I did yearn for the club chairs, fireplace, and potted palms.

  Guess who was given a locker next to mine? I would’ve left her there, but I needed my books.

  “Go away,” I said, twirling the combo on my locker.

  “I can’t,” she said. “I need you to forgive me.”

  “Fine.” I grabbed my backpack. “I accept your apology. Now will you go away?”

  “No,” she said. “I want to explain. Will you at least listen?”

  I headed out of the lounge and down the front steps of the school without answering, walking quickly to outpace her.

  She trotted beside me toward the gates. “Please.”

  “Stop following me.”

  “I didn’t want to do it, Emma.”

  I blinked back tears. I couldn’t believe she was here—and a ghostkeeper. As if she’d devoted her life to ruining mine. Kids streamed through the gates and I noticed Harry heading in our direction. If he saw this, he’d turn our argument into gossip about a catfight.

  “C’mon then,” I said.

  We walked a block in silence, before shuffling through a drift of fallen leaves. “Just say it, Natalie. How can you explain what you did?”

  “You never would’ve left San Francisco if we’d just asked,” she said.

  “ ‘We’ who?”

  “The Knell,” she said.

  “The Knell?” I stopped walking. “So you work with Bennett?”

  She bit her lower lip. “He didn’t tell you.”

  “Let me get this straight.” I started walking again, faster this time, my growing anger causing me to pick up speed. “The Knell sent you to pretend to be my friend and then ruin my life so Bennett could drag me to Echo Point.”

  “The friendship part wasn’t pretend.”

  “I’d hate to see what you do to people you don’t like. Why not just tell me who you were and what you wanted?”

  “Hi, we’re ghostkeepers!” she said chirpily. “We see dead people—and so do you! Wanna fly across the country and live in a haunted house with us?” She followed me up the driveway to the museum. “We weren’t sure how much you knew. I kept dropping hints, hoping you’d open up, but you never did. Bennett thought—”

  “That I was only pretending.”

  She nodded. “And your parents … I don’t know. Emma, the Knell’s like the army, and I’m just a private. They give the orders, I salute. Like Fencing class, except nobody yells ‘Play.’ ”

  I refused to smile. “Are you even sixteen? Or are you some kind of ghostkeeper narc, infiltrating my school to get close to me?”

  “I’m sixteen,” she said, and for a moment her confidence faltered. “I just never finish a school year in one place.”

  We climbed the stairs, and I turned to Natalie before opening the door. “Just tell me one thing. Whose idea was that? Knowing I’d be so desperate after a night in a halfway house, I’d go anywhere? You or Bennett?”

  “You’re not going to like the answer,” she said.

  My stomach soured. “It was Bennett.”

  “The Knell—”

  “What about Jared?” I took a breath. “Did Bennett tell you to hook up with him?”

  She frowned. “No. He was cute.”

  I shook my head. Just when I was getting used to living with ghosts, Natalie came back to haunt me.

  “I understand why you’re mad at Bennett,” she said. “But he was only trying to do what’s right.”

  “Then why does it feel so wrong?” I said.

  * And you are a disgusting pig.

  * Because you’re not good at hating.

  19

  The door opened and Martha said, “Are you girls coming inside?”

  “Martha!” Natalie squealed, rushing into her open arms and clinging tight.

  “Sweetheart,” Martha said, stroking Natalie’s hair. “Let me look at you.”

  “I missed you,” Natalie said. “It’s been so long.”

  “I looked after Natalie when her powers emerged,” Martha explained.

  “Better and better,” I mumbled.

  Martha disengaged from Natalie and swept us into
the foyer. I stood there stiffly, watching them get reacquainted. Martha told Natalie how well she looked, Natalie asked Martha if she’d finished making her lists. Natalie looked her age for once, and as happy as I’d ever seen her.

  Until Martha noticed me watching. “You haven’t made up, then?” she asked.

  I shook my head.

  Martha touched Natalie’s cheek. “Then I don’t think you should stay.”

  “But I haven’t seen you in so long.” Natalie looked crestfallen. “I wanted to stay here, with you …”

  “I’m sorry, Natalie, I have to think of Emma now.”

  I stared at her in shock. Had Martha just chosen me over Natalie?

  Natalie nodded, her face resigned. “I’ll ask the Finches if I can stay awhile longer. I’m in their apartment over the garage.”

  “When Emma’s ready, you’ll come back,” Martha told her. “Until then, I think that’s best.”

  Natalie flashed a brittle smile and left, her head high. For a moment, Martha and I stood there silently. Then I threw myself into her arms.

  “Thank you,” I said, and began to weep.

  We sat on the grand staircase, Martha cradling me until the tears stopped flowing.

  “Why?” I asked, wiping my face on my sleeve. “Why did you choose me over Natalie?”

  “Because what they did to you in San Francisco was wrong. And because you need me more.”

  That evening after dinner, I passed Bennett’s dad’s study, then turned back, thinking of the swords on the wall. I needed to sweat, to lose myself in exertion.

  I took down a sword and whipped it back and forth on my way to the ballroom. The moment my hand closed on the hilt, I felt calmer, more focused. At least this was something I could control. I didn’t even have to summon the Rake, he appeared the moment he heard me step into the room.

  He grinned wickedly and pointed his sword at my heart. En garde.

  Oh, yeah? I drew an E in the air.

  What was that?

  An E for Emma, like Z for Zorro.

  Who?

  You’ve got to start watching more DVDs.

  And I lunged at him. I attacked so aggressively that the Rake warned against losing my temper. Of course, he also cocked an eyebrow in approval when I flicked the sword point at his face, then twirled to kick him in the knee. We practiced for an hour. He stopped me every ten minutes or so to correct my stance or show me a new move, but I saw the approval in his eyes. By the time we were finished, I was drenched in sweat. He still looked like a ghost.

  We relaxed together in the white linen chairs at the far end of the room.

  You’ve never told me your name, I said.

  You know my name.

  Bennett. The original Bennett.

  You may call me Stern, he said, humor in his eyes.

  Of course, it suits you, I said. Why are you hiding from everyone but me?

  For a long moment, he looked out the window. Some ghosts haunt a place, and some are drawn to an emotion. I’m pledged to her, and you’re the closest thing. So I am not drawn to the others—only you.

  Because you loved her so much?

  No, Emma, he said, very softly. Because I killed her.

  The terrible truth of his words shone in his eyes.

  But you loved her. How could you? I asked.

  Everyone who knew Emma loved her … with a few exceptions. A group of men in town thought she was too opinionated, too rich, too strong willed. And a witch.

  Goose bumps raised on my arms at his tone. Echo Point was twenty minutes from Salem. They took witchcraft seriously around here, even if she had lived a hundred years later. I remembered the torture device I’d seen at Redd’s Pond.

  He nodded at my expression. Yes. And in truth, she did consort with the dead, didn’t she? More completely than any ghostkeeper since. Still, she was too well loved for their rumors to do much harm.

  So what did they do?

  They hired me. He started to pace, his voice still loud in my mind even when he stood across the room. They found me at a low ebb.

  Hired you for what?

  To seduce her. To ruin her.

  And you agreed?

  A crooked smile. They offered a fortune as a reward. I’d gambled and lost quite a bit.

  You seduced her.

  No. I fell in love. I told her everything—even that I still intended to seduce her. I expected her to send me away, but she’d fallen in love as well. His voice faded, and as he stood staring through the window, he faded away, as well.

  Wait! I want to know … I didn’t summon him back. When he was ready to tell me why he killed her, he would.

  The next morning, I taught Nicholas how to throw the football I’d found in Bennett’s attic. I’d only ventured into his domain to help Martha discover whether it needed cleaning. It’s not like I poked around in his private stuff and didn’t find anything of interest.

  Anyway, Nicholas mastered a wobbly spiral, then started asking about Xbox. I don’t know where he heard about these things. Fortunately, Celeste commandeered him for dusting, so I headed to the kitchen and stuffed my face with fresh éclairs Anatole had made. I really needed to buy him a South Beach Diet cookbook before I turned into a beluga.

  Then Sara phoned. “When are you coming over?” she asked.

  “Um,” I said.

  “You didn’t forget, did you? I want to make sure you’re decent for your date with Coby.”

  Yikes, the Halloween party. I had forgotten, but didn’t want to hurt Sara’s feelings. “I didn’t forget, I just didn’t want to bug you.”

  “No problem. The party’s at eight. I’ll see you at six.”

  Sara lived on the opposite side of the harbor, in a neighborhood called the Neck because it sorta stuck out by itself. Well, and because calling it that distinguished it from the rest of the village. I’d quickly learned at school that if you lived on the Neck, you had even more money than the regular wealthy people in Echo Point. Anyway, it was too far to walk, so Sara came and got me in her BMW.

  She gossiped in her raspy voice the whole way to her house about kids at school and it suddenly made a lot more sense why she and Harry were buds. It was a relief to think about something other than Natalie, ghostkeeping, and Bennett. I still didn’t know what I was going to say next time I saw him.

  She turned into a cobbled drive, and I was surprised to find a cute little cottage—until I realized that was just the garage. Sara lived in a mansion. Her house sprawled atop a rocky bluff, and she occupied her own suite with a bedroom, sitting room, bathroom—and, of course, ocean views.

  Did I mention the walk-in closet? I was in heaven, sorting through racks of designer wonders. Her body was mini, but I’d worn my own vintage Levis that I figured I could dress up and—score!—we wore the same size shoe.

  Only problem was, with all these options, how could I decide?

  Sara stepped past me and pulled out a satin cap-sleeve top in the most gorgeous shade of magenta. “This,” she said. “And … these.” She grabbed a pair of jade green leather sandals with a three-inch heel.

  Oh, I guess that’s how I’d decide.

  I had trouble squeezing into the top, but Sara insisted that was a good thing. And I never would’ve chosen the green shoes, but they worked perfectly.

  Sara examined me. “Earrings.” She handed me a pair of silver hoops. “Now a mask.”

  She scoped the closet for her collection and presented a selection of three: one a muted gold, one canary yellow with feathers, and the third electric blue. She held them to my face, then wrinkled her nose. “They’re all wrong.”

  “I should’ve just gone as the slutty schoolgirl.”

  “But how would they know you were in costume?” She smiled wickedly.

  “Hey!”

  “I’ll do it with makeup. It’ll look cool. Trust me.”

  I had some issues with trust, but I followed her into the bathroom and sat on her sink, while she wetted and blew out my hair
. Then she applied makeup until I couldn’t take it anymore and said, “If you’re painting me like a clown …”

  She swiped her mascara wand twice more. “You can look now.”

  I turned to the mirror and almost didn’t recognize myself. My hair was perfect—it actually looked longer. And wearing a blouse you’d see in the pages of Elle, I finally felt ready for my close-up. Well, maybe for the masquerade issue, with a pale purple eye mask across my temples, accentuated here and there with artistically placed sequins. Amazingly cool.

  The only problem was, it wasn’t me in the mirror. It was someone else. A girl who lived in a huge mansion, dressed for fancy balls, and thought ghosts looked like Casper the Friendly.

  But I didn’t tell Sara that. Instead I said, “Wow. Thanks. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re a lot nicer than you look.”

  Sara smiled. “It’s my secret weapon.”

  The doorbell rang and Sara squealed. “That’s him! He’s going to think you look so hot.”

  I felt a glow of pleasure, imagining Bennett on the other side of the door. Then I remembered that “him” was Coby … and I hated Bennett, anyway.

  I followed Sara to the front door—close on her heels so I wouldn’t get lost. We found Coby charming Sara’s mom, dressed in tight jeans, a ripped T-shirt, black leather cuffs, and silver chains. His eyes were ringed in guyliner.

  “Rock star,” I said. “Very nice.”

  He smiled. “You look …”

  “It was all Sara’s doing!” I interrupted, feeling awkward in high heels and satin, like I’d gone to all this trouble to impress him. Why had I let Sara talk me into this?

  Sara tried to press one of her pastel coats on me, but I grumpily shrugged into my black wool peacoat.

  “You haven’t sufficiently admired my artwork,” Sara said, gesturing to my face.

  “I like the mask,” Coby said. “And the little sparkly things.”

  “Sparkly things.” I loved guys sometimes.

  Sara took a bow. “Thank you.”

  “Do you want a ride?” Coby asked.

  “I’m not dressed yet,” she said. “I’ll be there in a half hour.”