I shook my head at him and laughed. "Cut some slices off, Em. Don't chew on the entire block of cheese." Taking care of him was like having a toddler.
"Does he understand what we've been talking about?" whispered Lily to me.
I shook my head no. "At first he did, but now he's totally blocked on it," I whispered back. "And spirit blind!"
"You're kidding." Lily stared at me. "He can't see ghosts?"
"Nope. Totally unaware of the spirit world. He acts just like a normal mortal—but a sweet one." I leaned in the door and smiled at Emmett. He grinned back, that adorable sunshine smile.
"He knows he gave you the Ring of Esperance, right?" whispered Lily.
I held out my left hand, where the huge black stone flashed on my ring finger. "He only knows he gave me a ring. He thinks it was because I'm his sweetheart." I giggled, then whispered, "Although . . . he won't kiss me."
Lily gave me a sour look. "Right. I see what we have here. Total infatuation."
"No-o-o . . . not necessarily," I said, blushing.
Lily shut the kitchen door and addressed me firmly. "Heather, you can't keep him here. He has to return, fight Bellum, and really win this time. Whatever he's doing here, it isn't real. He can't be your sweetheart or whatever he calls it."
"But this is such a big step for him!" I protested. "He hasn't been alive since 1900. He was terrified to come back. And now look at him, enjoying his cheese!"
I opened the kitchen door again. We watched Emmett chew away at the large block, tearing at the plastic with his teeth when it got in the way.
"Yes," said Lily. "It's a repulsive sight, all right." She shut the door.
"Why can't he continue to live here with us?" I hissed. "He's safe here."
Lily raised a prim finger. "Number one. He has no identity. I realize he's got a body that's alive—if he doesn't destroy himself in one of his frequent accidents—but who is he? Number two. He has no parents. Number three. No past. Number four. He doesn't go to school. How long can he survive like this? I'm afraid it can only be temporary, Heather." Lily shook her head sadly.
"So, what are you saying? He's just hiding out?" I said. "You're jealous!"
"Why would I be jealous?" She peered at me over those glasses, so superior.
"You know what I'm referring to." I turned my back on her. I hadn't forgotten that time she flirted with Emmett in the Lexiverse.
"For once, I have no idea," said Lily.
"You . . . made eyes at Emmett in the Lexiverse," I said. "And you sparked spectricity. You were trying to get his attention!"
Lily burst out laughing. "I'm not going to dignify that with a response. It's patently ridiculous. The spectricity was some kind of fluke. As for your behavior—I've read about this in my psychology books. The infatuated often become irrationally jealous. It's textbook."
I wanted to scream. I knew for a fact that Lily had manifested funny powers since the Lexiverse. Nothing drastic—a vision here, some spectricity there—but what if she got stronger, better at it? Better than me? What if Emmett found her interesting?
"I'm not jealous! I just want you to stay away from Emmett!" I hissed.
Lily shrugged away my outburst and I seethed, balling my hands into fists. The worst part of it—Lily was probably right.
Emmett opened the door and shuffled over to us, a faraway look in his eyes. "Hello, you two. Remember, you're friends?" He drew Lily's and my hands together. "I can't stand to see you two not getting along. You're my two favorite girls on the whole planet."
As a mortal, he'd revealed himself to be calm, under spoken, and a peacemaker. He made a lot of strange, global comments, but his spacey, dreamy demeanor covered it up nicely. He pushed his new glasses up his nose and managed to poke himself in the eye with his own finger. "Ouch!" he said cheerfully.
"Emmett! You promised to be more careful!" I said. I took his hand and held it, before he could do any more damage to himself.
Peaceful and pleasantly goofy as Emmett appeared, he had the worst predilection for hurting himself. Between the way he handled knives—usually by the wrong end—and the way he tried to float where gravity wouldn't permit it, I feared I'd lose him at least four times a day.
When he'd first arrived, he'd had trouble reading and he'd complained, "My eyeballs are not screwed in quite right." Then he'd attempted to remove one of his eyeballs to inspect it and given himself a nasty cut on the cornea. At the hospital, we discovered his need for glasses. After that, I lectured him repeatedly on the improper removal of his own body parts, until he understood the dangers involved. At least, I hoped he did.
"It's a safeguard," said Lily.
She nodded at Emmett, who had returned to the fridge and slammed the door on his fingers. "Ow," he said pleasantly.
Lily whispered, "He's accident-prone to ensure he returns to the spirit world. He'll fall down the stairs or knife himself while getting his cheese and go winging back."
"Shut up!" I wished Lily would wipe that smug look off her face. I couldn't bear to think of losing Emmett now. "He didn't come here just to hurt me!"
Lily's brown eyes saddened. "I'm sure he'd like to stay. But the laws of the worlds probably won't allow it. He's got a higher purpose."
"It's only because of the crux Bellum put on him! He doesn't want to leave!" I'd slammed out of the kitchen then, and wandered the Vic's back hallways alone. Creaking along the narrow, dark passageways, I told myself again and again. Emmett didn't become mortal just to leave me. He wants to be with me. He calls us sweethearts.
But my chest ached with a fear I couldn't quite release into tears. Emmett might want to be with me, but if Lily was right—and she so often was—the laws of the worlds would separate us regardless. Him to the spirit world and me to the mortal, whether we wanted it that way or not.
***
And here it was a week later, and Emmett by now trying to throw himself out of windows. So regularly mortal that he couldn't see ghosts and scoffed at the idea of the paranormal. I didn't dare show him any of my "talents" that impressed him when he'd been a spirit. That meant no spectricity in front of Emmett. No levitation. Certainly no teleportation. If I held a séance, it had to be in secret. We even kept the bat-Chi's away from him. The Ring of Esperance stayed on my finger and kept my spectricity under control. But without his teaching, my destiny as a medium seemed to be on hold.
How long could I hide it from him, what I was? And how long could I hide what he was?
I knew then I had to tell him. All of it. Before he slid out another window. I sat up straight, took his hands in mine, and looked into the bottomless deep of his black eyes.
"Do you remember a place called Dead Town?" I asked him, making my voice gentle.
He shook his head, but smiled. "The name has a pleasant ring. It rivals the one on your finger."
I clapped my hand over the ring, because it felt warm. Buzzy. Like a Smartphone that had been working too hard. "Yes, the ring. It can show us things. Do you want to see?" I held it up before his eyes, where the black jewel spangled crazily in the light. His eyes dazzled in return.
"It's so flickery. Like it's got fire inside. How did it get like that?" he asked.
"I think this ring has something it wants to tell us," I said. I didn't really know myself, but I had a hunch. "It can show you the place you're supposed to be."
I touched the glittering ring and a gauzy apparition appeared above it, projected out of the stone. It took the shape of a tree, with a full crown above and thick roots below. When I looked closer, I saw it was actually a map—a map of the spirit world! The All had gifted my ring with the ability to navigate to any location in the afterlife.
"Amazing! How does it do that?" Emmett lifted his hand to the image, gaping in awe when his hand passed through.
"It was blessed by the All," I said, not sure how to explain that one.
"It's got to have some kind of tiny camera or magic lantern in there . . . let me see. Didn't you say I got this o
ut of a gumball machine?" He reached for my ring and tried to wiggle it off my finger.
"Yeah . . . I might have fibbed just a little," I said. I gulped. Had I told him that? His questions were so hard to answer sometimes.
Maybe you didn't want him to know the truth, said a rather nasty voice in my head.
Okay, maybe. If he knew too much—if he saw my spectricity or found out who he really was—he'd leave. He'd have to go back and I'd lose him to the spirit world.
Emmett was still fiddling with my ring, but I made a fist and stopped him from removing it.
"Sweetheart, don't worry. I won't break it," he said. "I gave it to you, remember?"
"I do." The memory flashed through my mind. Emmett as a wafting, transparent spirit kneeled before me, proffering the ring. All around us, the insubstantial forms of the spirit world wisped by. He'd gazed up at me, sincere and willing to wait all day. "I would be so honored, Aether, if you'd be my protégée," he'd said, promising me it would control my spectricity at last.
I hadn't taken it then. I'd needed a little more convincing. But eventually—in a spirit world coffee haunt where the waitress levitated the cups to our table—I'd finally agreed. I took the ring, I received its protection, and one thing more: for the rest of my life, Emmett and I would share a bond. I became Emmett's mortal protégée.
Except the ghost boy who'd made me his mortal protégée was now a mortal himself.
Emmett eyed the ring I was holding onto so tightly and flicked at it. It glowed and buzzed in response.
"I have got to see how it does that!" he said.
"Don't try to take it off," I warned. When Emmett had been a spirit, removing the ring from my person had unleashed his vengeance incarnation—an ugly skeletal death form that attacked with balls of flame. I didn't want any part of that. Of course, Emmett was mortal now. Maybe it would be okay. But a spiritualist can never be too sure just what might happen. I certainly did not want to chance it.
"If you leave it alone, I'll explain," I said. I took a deep breath. I didn't know how I'd explain or where to start. But, All help me, I was going to try, when—
Emmett twisted the black jewel of the Ring of Esperance. It made a deep and ominous tolling sound that echoed endlessly, like a gong. Or a death knell.
I looked into Emmett's puzzled eyes. And I heard another sound. The whirling, the murmuring, the turning around and around. A portal. It was descending over our heads. As the whirring surrounded us, I panicked. I flung myself at Emmett, held on tight, and wrapped myself close to him. Then the portal spun us both upward, head over heels, squeezing each other in the flux for dear mortal life.
Chapter Two
If the Council Approves
Emmett and I washed up on the shores of the spirit world, everything drab, indistinct, and my head spinning terribly. I gulped to keep from vomiting. Next to me, a retching sound. I dragged myself from the portal's edge across dry, gray grass and touched Emmett's doubled-up form. He was curled in the fetal position, his head tucked down and a splatter of vomit on the ground before him. He groaned when I patted his back.
I cleared away the black, lacy material that clung all over him—the caul of his new entry to the spirit world. And now, he would see ghosts. No mortal that visited the afterlife returned without that ability.
But would he remember this place?
Since we'd accidentally traveled here, I might as well make the best of it. I'd show him around a little. We'd get past his disbelief pretty quickly that way. Then we'd return via the same portal we came up and no harm done. I didn't see any reason to worry the Paranormals. I'd have us home before dinnertime. They likely wouldn't even know we'd been gone.
I cradled Emmett's head in my lap and helped him wipe his mouth. "Are you okay, Em?" I asked.
"I think so." His voice croaked, but he pulled himself up and leaned on my shoulder, shaking. "You're so strong, Heather. That awful spinning. Where are we?"
"This is the portal field outside Dead Town," I said. "We're . . . well, this is the spirit world." I gestured weakly at the flat, hole-filled field, the surrounding wispy trees on the horizon, the bland, murky sky.
He gazed around in confusion. "Spirit world? No, this looks like a field near the Portales Espirituales cemetery."
"It's the spirit world, Emmett," I said. "Trust me."
He tried to stand and wobbled, so I held him upright. "How did we get here?" he asked in awe.
"I think the Ring of Esperance summoned a portal. I didn't mean to bring you here, but now that you've seen it . . . Emmett, we need to talk."
He looked at me with wide eyes. "We're not breaking up, are we?"
I laughed. "No, you're still my sweetheart," I said, hugging him. I towed him through the portal-riddled field, careful of the holes. "Don't fall. Any one of these could reincarnate you into a new life. Except that one." I pointed to a large hole with smooth edges. "That one goes to the Underwood. You definitely don't want to fall down there."
"What's down there?" Emmett's black eyes flickered curiously. For a second, he reminded me of the capricious spirit he'd once been.
"I don't . . . actually know. I think it's like Hell or something," I said. "Definitely bad. Let's move on." I tugged him toward the line of trees that ringed the field, wishing I knew more. I was a pretty bad spirit escort, since I wasn't a spirit and all I knew came from offhand comments Emmett made during my first visit here.
Emmett shivered. "It feels so dead here. The air is still. Everything's musty and cold."
"Yeah, it's got that Dead Town feel," I agreed. I liked it, though. Call me a strange girl, but I felt at home in the spirit world.
I stopped at the edge of the Disenchanted Wood. The last time Emmett had taken me in there, we'd been attacked by demonic creatures called Feeders and I'd almost gotten my head swallowed by a slough tree.
Emmett started to walk right in.
"Stop!" I said.
"What? I like walking in the woods," he said.
I clasped his hand and drew him back.
"I've got a better idea," I said. "I'll show you where you come from. Maybe it will help you to remember. Hold my hand tight."
He did, grinning at me in that sunny way that made my face heat up and my heart thump. I extended the Ring of Esperance. As soon as the spirit world map came up, Emmett yelled with alarm.
"Oh no! Not that again!" he said.
I ignored him and said, "All's Hold. All's Hold. All's Hold." Then I turned the black stone on the ring. With a solemn knell, we lifted up into the air, Emmett clutching for my arm, his teeth gritted in anticipation of a wild ride.
But this time, the ride was smooth, a languid turning through space. We wound our way through the expanse of the spirit world. I could see it pass beneath us, foggy and indistinct, the woods and gray hills, then the dark, winding streets of the walled city that was Dead Town. We cruised high above it all in some kind of shifted state and I guessed it was an internal portal, one that traveled through the spirit world instead of between two worlds.
But I didn't really know. Did spirits normally travel this way, or did my ring make this possible? So many questions. The old Emmett, in his spirit form, would have had answers. With Emmett as a mortal, I'd lost my spirit guide, the master spirit who was to teach and direct me as I progressed in my medium skills. It had seemed a much less serious problem back at the Vic. Now that we were actually in the spirit world, I had to face how little I really knew. Emmett's teachings hadn't always been that clear—sure, he lectured a lot, but so much of it had been confusing, disorganized, or just plain weird. But he'd known nearly everything. If only he were here. Even as I clung to mortal Emmett's flesh-and-blood hand, I missed the spirit he had been.
We passed directly through the thick stone wall of All's Hold, the imposing castle that towered over the center of Dead Town. Emmett yelled again, and then we were on the other side and hanging in space, over a deep, dark well that went endlessly down.
Then the
portal dropped us and we were falling, tumbling downward, into the blackness.
I spit bolts of spectricity in my alarm, then remembered what those could do. I concentrated to gather the blue fire and space it out, so it covered my entire body and I levitated on the power. I put on a bit of afterburn and sped toward Emmett's kicking, tumbling form, latching onto his spatted foot. Then we hovered, me clutching his boot in my hand, him hanging upside down. Presently, he said in a voice shaking with fright, "Don't . . . you think . . . we should get to those stairs?"
He pointed at a curling spiral staircase that wound around a middle pillar, off to the side of the void where we floated. I recognized it immediately.
"Oh, of course," I said. "We're in the infinite stairwell of the void. That is the infinite stairway. We're right on track." I blasted spectricity against the wall behind us. The momentum glided us over to the stairway, where Emmett grabbed the rail and clung there, eyes closed, breathing heavily. I slid over the rail and began walking downward.
"Come on." I had to haul him inside, he was shaking so. "You used to like this stairway a lot. Made me walk up and down it for hours once."
"I'm terribly sorry. I hope you'll forgive me one day, if we make it out of here alive," he said.
I started to giggle and he smiled, so I hugged him. He was still quivering, so I held him for a good five minutes in ecto-time, relishing his lightning scent. Was it just me or did he smell even more of the air after a high mountain storm, now that we were in Dead Town?
"Don't be frightened," I said. "I've come to Dead Town before as a mortal and I escaped unharmed."
"That may be," he said. "But you have to admit, Heather, you're an exceptional person."
I couldn't disagree with him there. I led him down instead, hoping I'd know the right time to start moving back upward. Down, down, into the infinite dark, step by step we crept, our way lit by my blue glow.
An idea was forming in my mind. I had hopes of finding someone—actually, many someones—who could advise me. The first time I came here, Emmett had insisted on presenting me before the spirit council. Could they help us now? If they'd wanted to know about me, a mortal with extra-strong spiritual powers, they'd certainly want to know about Emmett's transformation. He'd been one of Dead Town's oldest, most respected spirits—and now he was a fifteen-year-old mortal without a clue.
Spirits Page 2
