Portals Heather

by Leslie Edens Copeland

  "Do be careful, my little protégée. The after-effects of visions can be disconcerting," he said, smiling down at me.

  Sam raised one eyebrow, but the Llorona really made a fuss. She came down from the ceiling, wailing and flinging her arms around. Emmett stepped back and let me go, and she calmed, floating before us with her ghostly vapors writhing.

  "Ronnie!" Emmett was all smiles. "The mortals wanted to learn to play some of your party games. Specter-Twister, in particular."

  Trenton, Oskar, and Lily waved from the far side of the ball room, where a number of vaporous figures had gathered. Emmett waved back, then gestured at the Llorona to join them. "Show them how it's done. And thank you ever so much for the vision."

  The Llorona garbled at him in a weird gibberish I couldn't understand.

  "No, I don't think they know it's played forty feet off the ground. Mortals!" Emmett rolled his eyes, and they kept rolling and rolling. The Llorona enjoyed this, or at least she wailed a great deal. She swept into the rafters with an armful of large spots and squares that I guessed were the game pieces.

  Passing me, she made a final clawing motion in my direction. I shrank back. Emmett shook his finger at me. "If you're going to spend time with undead spirits, you must get used to the occasional eccentricity," he said.

  "Eccentricity?" I said. "She tried to drown Sam!"

  Sam nodded.

  "Oh, did she?" Emmett rippled in and out. "I imagine she's sorry by now. Terribly impulsive, Ronnie. Say, nice to see you again!" Emmett reached to shake Sam's hand, but Sam glared at him.

  Emmett backed away from Sam, puzzled. He turned to me. "Ronnie had news about the All, yes?"

  "No, actually Sam did," I said.

  Sam squinted at me, cool and silent.

  "When you were a kid," I said. "I saw it. You brought La Llorona a message from the All. She was not to steal any children from a bus crash. I think it was the bus crash that killed Valente. The Llorona didn't speak to the All herself. You did."

  Sam cleared his throat. "I saw a bright light and a voice spoke to me. I went into a projected vision. It's sort of like astral projection. An image of me traveled outside my body."

  "I never knew you could do that," I said, astonished.

  "I can't. After meeting the Llorona, I could never do it again," said Sam, frowning. "I don't know if she knocked it out of me, but after that my visions became disturbing and painful. Things were never the same."

  "Maybe it was that curse," I said. "It certainly put a damper on my life to believe my name was Despair."

  "Ronnie did return your real name, did she not?" said Emmett. "She claimed she had a gift for you."

  "It's not a gift if she took it in the first place," I grumbled.

  "Well, there's no harm done," said Emmett.

  Sam shook his head no. I couldn't agree either! We'd both suffered for thirteen years under the wrong name.

  "Another thing," I said. "Apparently the All invited Ronnie to this party—through Sam. I think that's pretty weird."

  "No, Ronnie loves to party," said Emmett, grinning. "That part makes perfect sense."

  He tried again to greet Sam, this time approaching with arms wide, like a long-lost brother.

  Sam turned his back. "Lay off," he said.

  Emmett's head drooped, and his arms fell to his sides. He shrugged at me, his eyes big and sad, and wafted into a half-visible state.

  I grasped for Emmett's arm and shook him slightly until he manifested better. "Ignore Sam. He's having one of his tantrums," I whispered in Emmett's ear.

  —Heather! Tell your boyfriend he'd better never restrain me again! I don't like being dragged down a portal against my will!

  I stuck my tongue out at Sam.

  —He's not my boyfriend. And you can get mad at me, not Emmett. I'm the one who told him to remove you.

  Emmett looked from me to Sam expectantly. He seemed to sense we were communicating.

  "I wanted to stay and fight," growled Sam in a low voice.

  "Yeah, well, you weren't up to it, Samhain d'Espers," I said. Then my mouth dropped open in surprise. "Our name really has changed!"

  "Yeah. The curse broke," said Sam, still with his back turned. "Next time he tries that, I'm going to lay a spirit flat. I don't care if he's materialized or not."

  "I beg your pardon," said Emmett, bowing his head to Sam.

  Sam glanced at Emmett's worried face. Very slowly, Sam grinned. "You got that?"

  "Absolutely. I am so terribly sorry. If Aether sends me, I must go, and—" Emmett gulped. "Please do not lay me flat, oh Great One."

  Sam's grin widened. "I'll let it go this once."

  "Oh, thank you!" Emmett finally got a hold of Sam's hand. He shook it and shook it. "You are indeed merciful and auspicious is your insight, Great Infallible One."

  I was disgusted. "Emmett, Sam can't do anything to you. Ignore him. He's acting like a jackass."

  Emmett shook his head. "Oh, no, Aether. I have nothing but the utmost respect for your brother. The Great One, Samhain d'Espers! Truly, it is an honor." He bowed low.

  Sam was laughing again.

  —I like him. You should keep this one, Aether.

  —Just because he feeds your egomania. You're a first-class jackass.

  I drew Sam aside "Did you see Valente's death?" I asked. "When the All sent you to the Llorona?"

  Sam shook his head. "I found out how Valente died on Monday morning."

  "When you disappeared?" I said. "Okay, Great One. Spill what you know about Valente."

  "Valente was shot while driving a school bus. He managed to get the children to safety before he collapsed," said Sam. " The city assumed it was an immigrant hate crime. The shooter was never caught and the city lost Valente's body out of the morgue, pending investigation. Then it showed up under the school bus in our junkyard. I saw it."

  "Stolen bones," I said.

  "The reason I had to hide—I saw Bruce and another man digging up the bones. Now I think that man was of the Turned Against. He kills for Bellum. See what I have seen."

  Sam stretched his hand out, index finger extended.

  I backed up. "I've already got a headache. No more visions."

  —Let me show you. See as I have seen. Be as I have been. Sam waited, his finger poised before my forehead.

  I did want to see what happened.

  "Oh, all right," I said. "Do it."

  Sam touched his finger to my forehead.

  Darkness flooded over me and a sound rang out, over and over—a grimy slice, a thumping crunch. A figure took shape—lying on a cot asleep, curly hair askew. The figure was me. The interior of the teardrop trailer shone orange in the early morning light.

  The morning Sam disappeared.

  On and on went the gravelly slicing sound from somewhere outside the trailer. Sam stuffed his sleeping bag into his rucksack. He smoothed my hair from my face. I smiled, but did not wake, even when the pounding crunch grew louder. Sam clasped his forehead and groaned.

  He slung his leather jacket on and lifted his rucksack, then lurched out of the trailer toward the noise. As he came around the trailer, he fell to the ground, convulsing and clutching his head. Poor Sam—he suffered terribly from the most powerful of his visions. He thrashed in the sand, then lay still. The weird, thudding noise had stopped.

  Sam crawled up and lurched toward the school bus. Under the front of the bus, a shallow hole was visible, next to a fresh pile of dirt and two shovels.

  Sam gazed into the hole. A blur of white resolved into grinning teeth in a round skull, a cage of ribs, and squares of vertebrae. These had to be Valente's bones!

  Sam reached down and brushed the bones with his fingers. Then a loud click made him look up. Bruce stood over him, holding him at gunpoint.

  Behind Bruce, a second man. A wide Stetson and sunglasses obscured his face and a black suit covered everything else.

  "Shoot him, Bruce." The man touched his Stetson at Sam, in a good-bye gesture. />
  "Yessir, Mr. Ted Bells." Bruce's tone was flat.

  A deep voice spoke. "Entra en el autobús!" Sam reeled at the power of it.

  I knew that voice. Valente! He was helping Sam, telling him to get in the bus.

  "Stand up slow, boy. Right. Now." Bruce's voice lowered to a deadly tone. He cocked the gun at Sam, took aim.

  "Ahora!" intoned Valente.

  Sam slammed sideways. He crashed through the half-open bus door and clawed up the stairs. He crawled along the bus aisle, staying low. I braced for gunfire but heard only Valente. "Entrar, Samhain. Vaya con Todo."

  Go with the All.

  Sam reached out, then jolted as if a snake had bitten his arm.

  "It's here! The entrance to the spirit world!" he whispered.

  The bus door creaked open and Bruce thumped up the stairwell. The muzzle of his gun appeared pointing down the aisle. Behind it . . . Bruce's cold, blue eyes.

  "Give up, boy. You're cornered," said Bruce.

  Sam inched back and tensed. "What are you doing to do?"

  "I'm about to send you packing," said Bruce. He chuckled. "About to send you packing on a permanent vacation." He took aim, his eye dilating over the barrel. His finger squeezed the trigger.

  Sam leapt into the portal. The view of the bus disintegrated in a whirl. He spun in the confusion of the portal's furls, flung around like a rag doll, until he spilled out on the gray field. He lay covered in filmy black material, the caul of his new entry to the spirit world. His hands tore away at it. Then he groaned and retched violently, doubled up next to the portal.

  —You maybe don't want to see that part.

  Sam's tense, sad face appeared before me again, in the dance hall of the spirit world party.

  "Yuck! No, I don't," I struggled to sit up, but arms held me back. Emmett's face gazed down at me with concern.

  "Lie still a while longer," he whispered. Rubbing my ticklish ears, I leaned back against him. Emmett enfolded me in an embrace, like a comfortable cloak.

  "Bruce helped them hide Valente's body," I said. "Do you think he would have really shot you, Sam?"

  "Maybe. He wasn't right," said Sam. "He acted like he was mesmerized."

  "I saw him that morning. Both he and Shirleen were confused and out of it," I said.

  "They used Bruce to hide the bones," said Sam. "But why dig them up?"

  "I think I know," I said. "Ever since they did, Valente's gotten weaker and weaker. They're making it hard for Valente to protect his haunt. Something or someone is down there."

  "Maybe so," said Sam. He pressed his hands to his forehead. "I get nothing from the junkyard. That itself is strange."

  "We need to go down there," I said.

  Emmett and Sam stared at me.

  "No!" said Emmett. He reached for me, flickering in alarm, his hand passing through my shoulder.

  "I agree with ghost-boy," said Sam. "It's too dangerous. Heather, you have no idea what could be lurking in that junkyard. Besides, Dad is way overdue. We should find him and see what he thinks first."

  "Sure," I said. "You're right." I did want to see Dad.

  I watched them, my brother Sam, the punk-rock seer, and Emmett, the Victorian ghost. Sam ignored me. He'd put ear buds in his ears and was listening to music. Meanwhile, Emmett shoved a glass of ecto-vino into the side of his head. When I stared at him, he turned pink, grinned like a maniac, and wafted like an old sheet on the wind.

  I was glad they were getting along. But I disagreed with them both. Whatever was in the junkyard, slowly torturing Valente, had to be stopped. The All wasn't around to do it anymore. So if they wouldn't go down there, it was up to me.

  ***

  Gray trees and a pock-marked field surrounded me and my mortal friends. Sam, Lily, Trenton, Oskar and I stood before a whirling hole, blue lightning flashing within. Emmett waited to see us off.

  I stepped from the circle of mortals to take Emmett's arm. I squeezed his arm, which I found solid enough. Now he was smiling at me, so affable, so adoring. My heart thumped.

  His smile turned sly. He tried to take my hand and dance me around. "Let's dance once more. I think I could get the Hitchhiking Ghosts to play for us."

  I hugged him instead. Taken by surprise, he stayed material. Again, he felt warm and alive to me, then the feeling faded away. He'd gone transparent, but I could still see the amazement on his face.

  "I felt that," he whispered. He held out a wispy hand to me, but it passed through mine. "Please stay a little longer? I'll be lonely, I think, when you are gone."

  I stepped up to the edge of the glowing, whirling hole. "I'll return soon," I said. "Come on, everybody. This is the portal home."

  "But—but—!" Trenton had reservations.

  "Heather knows what she's doing," said Oskar. "And if not, this is the perfect time to thank you for a lovely party."

  Emmett stretched out his hands toward us, beckoning. "Best time I've had in simply ages. You mortals are loads more fun than these sad sack ancients we have around here."

  "Good bye," I said, waving. I watched him fade, the white tie and tails, the black hair and despondent dark eyes.

  "Summon me soon," he whispered, before he'd disappeared completely. I caught a last glance of his sunny grin.

  "Everybody—jump!" I shouted.

  We took a leap of faith, holding hands, together. Into the portal's furls, spinning colors whipping all around us. I held us near the center, glowing with spectricity. I moved the portal's energy through me, humming in rhythm with its spin, and slowed our descent.

  I heard a sound. Squee-yip! Squee-yip! The bat-Chi's whipped by, barking and squeaking, then one disappeared down a dark hole that opened in the portal's furls. I let go of the Paranormals' hands. Sam, Lily, Trenton, and Oskar disappeared after Elvira into the portal route that would carry them home. But I slid off after Sybil down the dark hole.

  I was going home, but not to the Vic.

  Seconds later, in a storm of sand, I fell to the floor of the school bus. Home again. No place like the haunted junkyard.

  Chapter Seven

  The Ring of Esperance

  I took a shaky walk to the school bus, noting the crushed bumper and crumpled hood where it must have hit the guard rail when Valente stopped the bus—when he died.

  I stepped into the bus and held my arms wide to summon him. "Valente de los Santos. It's Señorita d'Espers. That curse didn't fool you. You knew my name all along, didn't you?"

  Valente manifested over the driver's seat of the bus. He looked pained and tired, the image barely holding together. I held out my hand, and his cold, filmy substance brushed my skin. I shivered.

  "I came to tell you to leave," I said. "Go home, to Cuidad del Muerto. You don't have to stay here for the d'Espers any longer. Sam and I have grown up and we're moving on."

  "Gracias, Señorita Esper," he said, but he didn't move.

  "I believe you can understand me," I said. "Something in you doesn't want to go."

  "El malvado," he said. "Mes huesos."

  "I know they took your bones," I said. "You don't need them anymore. Time to let that go, Valente de los Santos."

  If he returned to the spirit world and gave up his haunt, the portal would close for good.

  Whatever evil presence lurked in this junkyard would be trapped and unable to return to the spirit world. Unless they located another portal, which had to be more than ten miles away. It wouldn't be easy for the spirit to escape.

  "Valente, will you come to the spirit world with me? Close this portal for good?" I said.

  "Sí, for good," he said.

  "Okay. Prepare yourself, and wait for my summons," I said. I hoped he heard me, for he had already wisped away. Only dust motes remained.

  I didn't waste time gathering my belongings. True, my notebook was in the teardrop trailer, but I could get another. Emmett would still respond to my writing.

  Sybil was waiting patiently in the bus stairwell. She hadn't wandered off or flow
n away. There was really nothing to hold us back from leaving.

  I took a last look around the junkyard. In the bright daylight of early morning, it was less foreboding than in the dark of night. In fact, as my eyes traced the familiar piles of metal, wood, and old tires, the place just seemed sad.

  "Let's get out of here," I said to Valente. "Ahora! And that means now."

  Valente gave me a wispy thumbs-up and began to rise. Standing in the middle of his portal, he too took a last long view of the junkyard outside. Then he looked over the bus seats surrounding him, the cracked windows, and the rubberized floor.

  As the portal drew him upward, I could see him clearly as he'd been in life. Valente de los Santos, spiritualist and curandero, in his green bus uniform. His smile was warm and kind. His golden eyes shone bright and a little fierce, determined and fearless, as he gazed into the beyond.

  "Vámonos, Heather d'Espers," he said to me. He reached for my hand.

  I stretched my hand up to meet his. Our fingers almost brushed. I stood on tip-toe to reach him . . .

  I jerked back and fell to the bus floor. Something had pulled my left hand. I turned. Behind me stood Bruce. He held my wrist as he worked the Ring of Esperance off my finger.

  "What are you doing? Let me go!" I shrieked, pulling away. But he had a strong grip on me, twisting my left arm back painfully.

  "Not until I find out where this rock came from!" Bruce shouted. "You've been acting so weird. You were always weird, but lately you've been—uh, just really weird! And now this ring on your finger. You've got a boyfriend, don't you? Who gave you this?"

  He wiggled the Ring of Esperance, trying to pull it off. I gave him my full mesmerizing stare.

  "Don't take it off!" I said.

  He only sneered back at me. Strong emotion—Bruce's favorite, anger. My eyes were doing nothing to him!

  Valente rose higher. "Señorita d'Espers!" he howled, reaching out to me. He'd already gone too far up his portal. I knew he couldn't come back now.

  "Go, Valente," I said. "I'll be fine." Better he should escape and close the portal. The evil presence would still be trapped. Even if I was trapped here with it.