Deception

by Lee Nichols

  And I flew at him with the branch, freed from the weight and sluggishness of my mortal form, I swirled around him feinting and jabbing. He parried with his knife, but not quickly enough.

  I stabbed him in the chest, but the voice that cried out wasn’t Neos’s but Coby’s. I froze. Was I going to win this fight over Coby’s dead body?

  I couldn’t.

  I faltered, and Neos attacked. He knocked my branch aside and backhanded me across the face. My body was still that of a ghost, but not to Neos. He could still hurt me while wearing Coby’s body. I sprawled to the ground, my vision blurred.

  “Now you die,” he said.

  You’ll never learn my secret, I told him.

  “Instead, I’ll take your death.”

  He twirled his knife in his right hand, scattering droplets of rain, then grabbed my arm to lift me into his thrust.

  And he screamed in pain. Welts rose on his hands where he’d grabbed me—vicious frostbite. Neos was so powerful that ghosts burned him even more than they did me. He’d become a human ghostkeeper in Coby’s body and I’d become a ghost. Maybe I could burn his spirit from Coby. The ache would be so great, he’d have to leave. Coby would probably end up scarred, but alive.

  I grabbed his arms and pressed myself into him—he bellowed in pain and fury, but remained firmly entrenched inside Coby. He hit me hard, in the ribs and kidneys, but I clung to him, hugged him tighter.

  I shrieked with the effort and pain. How much longer? I was weakening. Though he was weakening, too. We fell to the ground, me still clutching him, he still trying to beat me off.

  Then I felt his blade cutting into my chest, closer and closer to my throat. I didn’t have the strength to resist. Between the torture and the fight, I’d reached my end. I had to get away. I couldn’t let him have my powers or he’d be indestructible.

  With a tug of will, I wrenched the blade from my chest and threw my spectral body into the air. I hovered over Neos, as he nestled in Coby’s body in a heap below. He looked depleted and spent—still I knew I couldn’t finish him.

  I will kill more of you, he said, his voice weak but clear. And I will grow stronger.

  Like a coward, I fled.

  29

  I didn’t fly away—I disappeared.

  I felt a longing for safety, for warmth. For Bennett. And I felt myself shift, and found Bennett in his bedroom in the attic, poring through an overstuffed notebook.

  Bennett, I said.

  He didn’t hear me—he couldn’t communicate with ghosts—but he must’ve felt me. He glanced up from his notebook and his face lost all color, his eyes were wide with shock and grief.

  “Emma!” he cried. “No. No.”

  He stood and reached a hand toward me, touched the blood that dripped from my chest wound. He pulled back as it burned him. “How could this happen? I don’t understand.”

  I removed the ring. “I’m alive.”

  “Oh God.” He wrapped me in his arms. “Emma, I—”

  Dripping with pond water, my ghost gown torn and bloodied, my heart still thundering with fear, I kissed him. He stroked my neck and back, as if reassuring himself I was real, and I clung to him until my knees gave way from exhaustion and relief.

  He laid me gently on the bed, and I was smiling and crying at the same time. “I’m sorry,” I said, though I didn’t know what for. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I thought you were dead.”

  “I almost was.” I showed him the ring. “This belonged to the first Emma—it turns me into a ghost.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  I slid the ring back on, watching Bennett marvel at my spectral form. He moved to touch me, but I pulled the ring off before he could, not wanting to burn him more.

  “You’re impossible,” he said, and before I could respond, he kissed me again.

  Then I told him everything.

  He dialed 911, as I changed from the tattered ghost dress into a pair of Bennett’s black long johns and a gray wool sweater. Then we raced downstairs and scrambled into his Land Rover and went back to Redd’s Pond.

  I prayed Coby was okay. He’d taken a lot of punishment from me, let alone Neos. But he was healthy and strong and deserved to live. I hoped that I’d left Neos too weak to take revenge.

  I shifted in my seat. “I shouldn’t have left him.”

  “Emma, there was nothing you could do.”

  “I could’ve fought harder.”

  “Nobody else—nobody—could’ve even gotten away alive. And you kept the ring from him.”

  But was it enough? I bit my lip and remained silent on the drive through town. As we turned onto the road to the pond, the rain turned into a downpour, diffusing the blue and red lights flashing through the woods.

  “They’re already here,” I said. “The cops.”

  “Let me do the talking,” Bennett told me, as we parked.

  “What will you tell them?”

  His face was grim. “I don’t know yet.”

  The path was dark and muddy, and I felt the same touch of fear as when I’d realized Neos had possessed Coby. I grabbed Bennett’s hand and held tight.

  “You’re safe now, Emma,” he said.

  I nodded, unsure, and followed him closer. I expected yellow police tape blocking the scene, but we made it to the water’s edge without being stopped.

  A flurry of activity. Police cars, an ambulance—even a fire engine, despite the rain. And then I looked closer at the men in hip-boots wading in the shallow edge of the pond.

  “Oh, no,” I said, tearing away from Bennett. “No.”

  They were dragging Coby’s lifeless body from the water.

  I darted through the men and threw myself at him. “Coby, no, I’m so sorry—”

  “Miss!” The cops dragged me off him. “Who are you?”

  “His friend. Oh, God, I should never have—”

  Bennett appeared at my elbow. “Emma, I’ll explain.”

  “What does it matter?” I started bawling. “He’s dead.”

  “Give her a sedative,” one of the cops muttered to an EMT. “Teenage girls …”

  The EMT fed me some pill and I pretended to be calm so she’d leave me alone. I never should have left him. Maybe if I’d given Neos the ring, he’d still be alive. I was the one who should be dead, not Coby—sweet, gorgeous, trusting Coby.

  “Emma, there was nothing you could do,” Bennett said, putting an arm around me. “It’s not your fault.”

  He shepherded me toward the car, my feet slipping in the mud, tears streaming down my face. Halfway there, we met Sara rushing toward the pond with Coby’s mom and dad right behind her.

  “His parents got a call at Harry’s,” she started.

  Then she saw my face, and hers crumpled. She groped blindly for support, then fell to her knees, making keening noise of heartbreak and grief.

  “You promised you wouldn’t hurt him,” she finally whispered to me.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”

  “You’ll never be sorry enough,” she said.

  And she was right. Because being sorry wouldn’t bring him back.

  30

  The Knell provided me with an attorney, who made me memorize the story for police questioning:

  On our way to the cocktail party at Harry’s house, I’d noticed Coby acting strangely. Not at all himself. He was worried about the game—what everyone would think of him if he lost. When he pulled into Redd’s Pond, I’d left the car and run back to the museum, where Bennett phoned the police. Because I was worried Coby was going to hurt himself. Kill himself.

  So ending his life wasn’t enough; I also lied about his death.

  The downpour had wiped away all evidence of the fight and though the story seemed a little vague to me, the Knell exerted pressure behind the scenes, and the cops closed the file.

  Suicide. At least no one had seen the knife wound in my chest. I couldn’t bear for anyone to think Coby had hurt me.

/>   Gossip at school said that Coby had killed himself because I’d broken up with him—I wondered if Harry was fueling it. I actually had a kid ask why I couldn’t have waited until after Homecoming to dump him. Didn’t I know I’d ruined everything?

  So I went from being the most popular girl to the school leper. In the days after Coby died, Harry and Sara didn’t wait for me at the school gates. In fact, they didn’t talk to me at all. I couldn’t figure out how to approach them, how to explain what had happened. To tell them that I cared for Coby, too. I hadn’t known him forever, as they had, but I mourned him all the same.

  I longed for the comfort of our friendship, to share the happy memories and the grief. But I couldn’t blame them for turning away, for hating me.

  I would’ve done the same.

  One night, a few days after Coby’s death, I found Bennett in the solarium. He hadn’t been around, even though he’d been staying at the museum with me and Natalie. I missed him and couldn’t take his disappearing act anymore, so after finishing dinner with Natalie, I’d gone to look for him. He stood at one of the windows, staring out at the pitch-black sky.

  He watched my reflection in the window as I approached, and his brow furrowed with an expression I couldn’t decipher. Then he turned to me. “Did you love him?”

  I shook my head. “Not like that.”

  “Like what then? Did you …”

  I didn’t want to talk about it. What if I had loved him? He’d still be dead and I’d still be responsible. “What does it matter?”

  “No, I just—God! I’ve screwed everything up, Emma.”

  “What have you done? Everything’s my fault.”

  He shook his head. “I mean between you and me.”

  “Is there a you and me?”

  He gave me a look of such intensity that my breath caught. “All I know is that I’m in love with you,” he said, almost angrily. “That the sight of you, the scent of you, the sound of your voice—I can’t help myself, I can’t stop it, I can’t think of anything else. You’ve made me completely useless.”

  “Oh!”

  “Every time we’re together, we fight and you—”

  “And I’ve loved you from the moment I met you. You walked in that door with Max and—I knew.”

  Bennett finally gave me the look I’d been dreaming of. The one that said, I could kiss you right now, and live with you and you alone, forever. And I returned it full force.

  Then he spun away from me. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said.

  “Like what? Like I want you to take me upstairs and—”

  He groaned. “Please!”

  “What? Don’t you want me?”

  “Just—just give me a minute.” He took a deep breath, struggling to control himself. I stepped behind him and touched his shoulder. His muscles felt bunched and tense beneath my palm.

  And Natalie strolled into the solarium, chewing on one of Anatole’s almond cookies. Martha had been right. I’d opened up to Natalie and she’d become a real friend to me.

  “Have you told her yet?” she asked Bennett.

  “Natalie, get out of here,” he said.

  “What?” I said to Bennett. “What is there to tell?”

  “Oops.” She backed toward the door. “Forget I was here.” And she tiptoed away.

  “What is she talking about?”

  “Emma, ghostkeepers can’t be together,” he said in a strangled voice.

  I laughed. “Is that some ridiculous Knell rule? Ignore them.”

  Bennett turned to me. “I can’t.”

  “You’re not serious,” I said.

  “When two ghostkeepers are together—the more they touch—one of them loses their powers.”

  “What?”

  “Until they have nothing left at all.”

  “So they can’t date or marry or—” I stopped. “What about my parents?”

  “Your mom lost her powers to your father. That’s what happens to the weaker partner, and your mom’s abilities were never strong. That’s why she needed the amulet to focus them.”

  “But didn’t she know what she’d lose?”

  He nodded. “She knew.”

  “She loved him very much,” I said, thinking also of the original Bennett, who’d sacrificed his powers to be with the first Emma. That’s why he’d become a ghost. He hadn’t been a ghostkeeper when he died.

  “And wanted a family.” Bennett looked for a moment toward the garden. “I can’t imagine how she must’ve felt, unable to protect you from Neos once she lost her power.”

  I nodded slowly. They really had tried to protect me. That’s why they’d sent me to the poof, and—and maybe why they’d disappeared, too. Were they still watching out for me?

  “I don’t care,” I finally said. “I’ll give up my powers to be with you.”

  Bennett laughed. “Emma, you’re already the strongest ghostkeeper I’ve ever seen. You won’t lose anything.”

  “Oh.”

  Of course Bennett wasn’t willing to sacrifice his powers to be with me—this was his whole world, born a ghostkeeper, working for the Knell. Could I ask him to lose everything for me? Never. Except shouldn’t he be willing to give up everything for love? Isn’t that what love was?

  I was afraid to ask, but I didn’t want to start keeping secrets again. So I said, “And, um, I don’t suppose you …”

  “I would, Emma.” He took me in his arms and kissed me like I’d never been kissed before and maybe never would be again. “I totally would.”

  I sighed into his neck. “But?”

  “That first murder in San Francisco?” he said. “That was my sister. That’s why I’ve been so busy investigating. I can’t stop now. Not until I find Neos.”

  A few days later, Bennett was waiting for me outside the front gates of Thatcher. Coby’s funeral was set for Saturday and school had turned into a living hell. It was a relief to see a friendly face. Bennett wore a navy wool coat, ripped jeans, and teal blue knit scarf. I wanted to hug him. Kiss him. Slide my fingers under the scarf to touch his skin and never let go.

  Instead, I said, “Hi.”

  “Hi, yourself.” He smiled, happy to see me. We were always happy to see each other these days, even if we both kept our hands in our pockets.

  We headed down the street, side by side, not touching.

  “Nothing’s ever going to be normal again, is it?” I said.

  “Not normal, no.” He laid a hand on the small of my back. “But one day, you and I …”

  I shivered. Still, as much as I longed to feel Bennett’s arms around me, and his skin next to mine, I wasn’t sure I could let him give up his powers. He’d not only stop dispelling, he’d stop seeing ghosts entirely. Part of him would be missing forever.

  Still, that little dilemma could wait. First we needed to find Neos and stop him for good.

  “Any word from the Knell?” I asked.

  “There’s no trace of him yet.”

  “I think it’s time I met them.”

  “Good,” he said. “Because you’ve got an appointment on Saturday.”

  I stopped walking. “When did that happen?”

  “Today. I couldn’t put them off any longer.”

  “The meeting’s here?”

  “In New York. We’ll take the train.”

  “Wow.” This was unexpected. “Um. You’re going with me?”

  He grinned. “Of course.”

  I started walking again. “That’s okay then.”

  We stopped in the village for a couple of red-eye chais, then when we got home, Bennett stepped into the kitchen while I leafed through the mail. Mixed in with the catalogs and bills, there was a thin manila envelope addressed to me.

  I ripped open the envelope, and found a single photo.

  Of Bennett, at Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco, which made me think Max must have taken it.

  Scrawled across the bottom: Don’t trust him.

  The dot over the i was missin
g. It was my mother’s handwriting.

  I flipped over the envelope again. There was no return address and it hadn’t been postmarked. Did that mean she was in Echo Point? Were Max and my dad here, too?

  “What’s wrong?” Bennett asked, coming into the foyer.

  I crumpled the photo, the words echoing in my head: Don’t trust him.

  “Nothing,” I said. “How’s that chai?”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thanks to my spectacular agents, Nancy Coffey and Joanna Stampfel-Volpe; my fabulous editor, Caroline Abbey; and all the other wonderful people at Bloomsbury, especially Raina Putter, Nicole Gastonguay, and Deb Shapiro.

  Lee Nichols was raised in Santa Barbara, California—the setting of her adult novels Tales of a Drama Queen, Hand-Me-Down, and True Lies of a Drama Queen. She attended Hampshire College in Amherst, Massachusetts, where she studied history and psychology. She now lives in Maine and is married to novelist Joel N. Ross. Deception is her first novel for young adults.

  www.leenicholsbooks.com

  Deception is just the ghostly beginning.

  Read on for a sneak peek at the next

  Haunting Emma book:

  BetRayal

  As I reached the gates of the cemetery, a flurry of snow suddenly filtered through the gray day and little white puff balls floated from the sky. I smiled at the clouds, tears filling my eyes, remembering Martha, who’d told me my first snow would be magical.

  I caught a snowflake on my tongue, then stepped into the graveyard. Time for more magic. Time to raise the dead.

  Here’s the thing about ghostkeepers. When we die, we die. There’s no coming back like other people: we’re cremated or buried and that’s the end.

  But people like Coby could be summoned. Or at least, their ghosts could.

  I surveyed the empty cemetery, the snow dusting granite tombstones, then wove through the monuments to stand at Coby’s grave. I bowed my head and looked at the coffin, scattered with dirt and flowers, but didn’t toss in my own handful of dirt, because to me he’d soon no longer be dead. I licked my lips, suddenly nervous. What if he hated me? What if he wasn’t the same? Or worse, what if he didn’t want to come back?