Mom and Dad are on the sofa. He’s got the news on while Mom’s reading her Kindle. Sophia’s standing between them, wearing the same pink nightie she had on down in the basement and flailing like one of those guys from an airport, only she doesn’t have the funny flashlights with the orange batons on them.
“Mom! Dad!” shouts Sophia. “Stop ignoring me! Something’s happened!” She tries to grab Mom’s arm, but her hands go right through without grip.
Mom rubs her wrist. “Did the heat stop working? There’s a draft in here.”
“Feels fine to me,” says Dad.
I walk over. “Soph?”
She peers up at me. “Sarah?”
“Last time I checked.”
My parents both look at me, confused.
Sophia bursts into tears and runs at me. She attempts to jump into a hug, but whiffs right on by like a cold breeze and staggers to a halt a short distance away, still bawling. I turn to face her. “Shh. It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”
“It’s not okay!” wails Sophia. “I’m dead! I’m a ghost! I don’t wanna be dead!”
“You aren’t dead. Something weird is going on.”
“Sarah?” asks Mom. “Who are you talking to?”
I hold a finger up. “Let me get back to you on that.”
Another Sophia emerges from the basement stairs in the kitchen and walks placidly down the hall. The spectral Sophia tries to grab onto herself. Solid Sophia twists in response to being grabbed, like the ghostly hands have somewhat of a grip, though not enough to stop her.
“Sarah! Help!” screams ghost-Sophia.
“What are you doing out of bed?” asks Dad. “Do you know what time it is?”
“Uhh, guys, Sophia’s not home right now.” I step back as she goes by, rounds the banister at the end of the staircase, and goes upstairs.
“Is she sleepwalking?” asks Mom, her voice quivery. “Oh, no. We should make an appointment as soon as possible.”
“Mom.” I gesture at her like I’m trying to stop traffic. “She’s not sleepwalking. She’s astrally projecting or something.”
“What?” asks Mom and Dad at the same time.
“Her ghost is outside her body.”
“Fix it!” screams Sophia. “This is too freaky!”
I run for the stairs, grab the banister post to swing around, then sprint up to the second floor and my sister’s room. Sophia’s lying in bed as if asleep. A cloud of silvery-white light rises up from her chest and coalesces in the middle of the room, taking on the shape of an indistinct adult male.
“What the hell are you doing?” I yell.
The figure faces me for a second, then collapses into a cloud before racing out the window and shooting off across the sky. Ack! It’s probably not a good idea to leave her body soulless for too long. I scoop Sophia up, momentarily alarmed at how little she weighs, and carry her downstairs. Ghost Sophia, evidently too freaked out to move away from the parents, hovers beside them, trying and failing to hug Mom.
She looks up as I thunder down the stairs with her noodly body in my arms.
“What’s going on?” asks Dad, sounding freaked.
I rush over to them, having no better ideas than trying to bring the two Sophia’s together and hope something happens. The instant her foot makes contact with her spirit, the apparition blurs into a smear of light that absorbs into the body. Sophia snaps awake with a heavy gasp, coughs twice, then clamps her arms around me and erupts in a fit of wailing tears. I sit on the couch between the ’rents and hold her as she sobs.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper over and over.
Our parents pat her on the back, hold her hand, and repeat assurances that she’s safe and okay.
“What happened?” asks Dad.
“The people who had Coralie want her back, and they found me. I think they did something that let one of them steal Sophia for a while to search the house.” Unable to contain myself, I laugh. “I can’t believe they didn’t look under my bed. That’s like the first place anyone would check.”
“I don’t wanna be dead,” whimpers Sophia.
“You’re not. Not even close.” I squeeze her. “Someone who is going to soon be in a lot of pain kicked you out of your body and, uhh, borrowed it.”
Sophia blinks. She looks back and forth at the parents, finally aware that they can again see and touch her. The realization calms her more, and she stops crying, though continues shivering.
Mom brushes a hand repetitively over my sister’s hair. “Why her?”
“I don’t know. Coralie said she’s sensitive. Maybe it was easier to get in. Could be because the man who rang the bell this afternoon used magic on her already.”
“What?” asks Sophia.
I explain how he must’ve used that ‘obey me’ thing on her to send her to get me.
“That’s stupid.” She frowns. “I would’ve told you someone was here for you if he asked.”
“Are you okay, sweetie?” asks Mom.
Sophia sniffles, but nods. “That was really scary. I was standing here yelling and you guys didn’t even see me.”
I squeeze her again. “I’m sorry they scared you, Soph. It’s my fault. I helped Coralie escape some not nice people and one of them just… used you to spy on us.”
She ponders this for a moment while wiping tears from her face. “If you bite them real hard, I won’t be sad.”
“Yeah. I’ll bite him hard… or something.” I stare guilt at the floor.
“Sarah, this isn’t your fault.” Dad takes my hand.
I let my head fall back against the sofa. “I know. But it’s not fair to you guys that the ‘weird stuff’ keeps affecting the whole family.”
“We told you we’ll deal with it.” Mom play-punches me in the shoulder. “You just need to make them understand they have far more to lose messing with us than they could possibly gain.”
“Mom?” I blink. “Are you seriously suggesting I go off on a murderous rampage?”
“That’s not what I was implying. We’d appreciate it if you kept the wonton killing to a minimum.”
I give her the side eye. “Are you in shock or teasing me?”
“Will you accept yes as an answer?” A weak smile flickers to life on Mom’s lips.
“Cool. I don’t think I could handle you seriously asking me to do that.”
Sophia folds her arms. “Somewhere out there is an ass that needs kicking.”
The ’rents gasp.
Hearing my little sister in her frilly pink nightie curse is too much on top of everything that just happened. I can’t stop laughing. This is the kid who blushes when I swear. Once I get control of myself, I pull her in for another hug.
“Oh, yeah. There’s definitely an ass out there I need to kick.”
Her face mushed into my shoulder, Sophia mutters, “Sorry for swearing, but extenionating circumstances. I’ve never been outside my body before. It’s okay if you ground me.”
No one bothers to correct her; we’re too busy laughing.
Once we get Sophia back to bed, I explain everything regarding Coralie to the parents.
That done, I head downstairs to plot my next move. Mostly, this involves me daydreaming various scenarios in which I kick down the door of this Brass Tap place and start twisting the heads off anyone in a funny suit. Of course, I have no idea if they’ll be there tonight or if they’ll only show up for the meeting at the appointed time. For that matter, why would they even possess my sister after we made arrangements?
Oh… maybe it’s another lodge. Coralie did mention that they’d broken up into several different groups and probably had some bad blood. I wonder if other parties know she’s been liberated and they want to take her. The male entity that stepped out of Sophia’s body didn’t look like Darren Anderson. Honestly, it barely looked like a human. But I’m mostly sure it wasn’t him.
Argh! Once again, there I go doing something I think is good for someone, and my family winds up in the middle o
f the supernatural crosshairs. Maybe I should shut myself into my room and only go out to feed. If I don’t do anything at all until the littles are grown and out of the nest, maybe then I won’t feel like a completely horrible, reckless big sister.
I seriously need to blow off some steam. Guess there’s Call of Duty, but I’m not in the mood to be cursed out in Russian, German, and Finnish. Always seems like I wind up in a game with Europeans at this hour, and as soon as I start winning, the swearing starts. At least, I’m guessing it’s swearing. Every time I kill someone, the screen goes crazy with foreign language text.
Bleh.
A light knock comes from my door.
“Dad?” I ask, as he’s the only one I can think of who would bother knocking.
“Not exactly,” says Glim.
“Oh!” I run over and open it. “Hi.”
He bows in greeting. “Is this a bad time?”
“No. It’s actually a good time. I need someone to talk to.” I pace in circles while ranting about what happened to Sophia.
Coralie picks that moment to finally make an appearance.
“There you are!” I say. “They attacked Sophia… just like you said they would.”
She tilts her head.
“Well, you said something would happen to her and it wouldn’t be dangerous.” I grab two fistfuls of hair and barely manage not to scream in frustration. “Please tell me that couldn’t possibly have hurt her?”
“Given the circumstances of the moment, no. She was perfectly safe.” Coralie smiles.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Circumstances of the moment?”
Glim’s eyebrows tick up a notch in curiosity.
“It means that someone with the proper equipment might have trapped her spirit and allowed another entity to permanently inhabit her body… at least until the spirit was released. But, that was not their intention.”
“Wait.” I walk up to her. “Those people can just grab someone out of their body and stuff the spirit in a box, stealing them?”
“Not exactly. Someone would have needed to be physically here with a soul trap, and a displaced spirit that belongs to a still living body can kick out any foreign entity with ease.”
“Didn’t look like it.” I shake my head. “Soph tried to grab her body but couldn’t get back in.”
Coralie sighs. “She did not try hard enough. If all she did was grab, it wouldn’t have worked. She would have needed to think about jumping back in. I believe they were only able to take her for so long because she was scared and didn’t realize she could take ownership of her body right back.”
“Oh. Well. That’s not exactly the sort of thing kids learn in school.”
“Maybe it should be?” Glim chuckles. “If I may interrupt. I have some news.”
Coralie and I look at him.
“There are four possible options for her to choose from, two of which aren’t terribly good.”
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s hear ’em.”
“One, and least desirable, we could break into a mausoleum somewhere and place her in state. However, the people who once kept her would likely find her with ease.”
“They will.” Coralie shakes her head. “That is how they found this house. They have several items that I once owned in life. With those things, they can locate my remains wherever I may be.”
“Ugh. So what do we do?” I ask.
“Not quite done yet.” Glim pats me on the arm. “Second option would be I bring her to the Cathedral of Shadows.”
“That sounds kinda scary.” I fidget.
Coralie raises an eyebrow. “What is that?”
“It is a place where we find solace and a sense of community. However, it is only accessible to those like me. It’s also on the other side, so she would be stuck there with only other Shadows to talk to.”
That sounds almost as bad as being trapped at the school, but at least the Shadows won’t force her to do the oracle thing.
“The other two options?” asks Coralie.
“Both Arthur Wolent and Eleanor St. Ives have expressed interest in Coralie’s remains.”
“Oh, forget St. Ives.” I hold up a hand.
“Yes, she would most definitely try to exploit her. Then again, so would Wolent, though in a much friendlier way.” Glim picks at his elongated fingernails. “Either of those two choices would have political ramifications. You could discuss it with them to see what they might offer.”
I shake my head. “No. I can’t. That’s not me. I can’t bargain like I’m trading an object. Coralie is a person. If it’s not the ones who used to have her, I think another group is hunting for her. We don’t have time to just wait for an ideal situation. It’s Coralie’s decision, but I think Wolent would be the best choice. Taking her to the Cathedral of Shadows wouldn’t cause any political issues, but that’s like locking her away forever. I… can’t choose this. It’s up to her.”
Coralie stares into space.
My door opens. Mom sticks her head in, mouth open as if to speak, and stares right at Glim. “Oh. Hi.”
Glim flinches.
Mom blinks. “Where’d he go?”
“Who?” I ask.
“That man who was just here.” She points at where Glim still is. “I heard you talking to someone and got worried. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, Mom. He’s a friend.” I show off my fangs.
She nods and backs out, closing the door.
“Sorry.” Glim scratches at the back of his head. “Reflex. My appearance is a bit much for most people.”
“I understand. My mother’s used to dealing with actual monsters… insurance company lawyers.”
He snickers, still with a note of sadness. I lean against him since I know it makes him feel better.
Coralie snaps out of her trancelike state and nods at me. “I believe asking this Mr. Wolent to watch over my remains would be the best outcome. St. Ives would be… bad. Going with the Shadows sounds quite lonely for me. I have been shut away so long, I would like to be able to see the world.”
Glim relaxes somewhat and puts an arm around me. “We’re not as gloomy as you’d think. Shadows are basically introverts from hell. We hate drawing attention to ourselves in public, but among ourselves, we’re a pretty fun crowd.”
“Okay so…” I scratch my head. “Do I need to talk to Wolent?”
Glim nods. “Yes, but he’s overseas. Should be back on Tuesday.”
“Ugh. What about St. Ives? How much does she know?”
“Only that Coralie is out there somewhere and in need of a secure home.”
I un-lean from Glim and resume pacing. “Two more days? What if something else happens?”
Coralie clasps her hands in front of herself and smiles. “I’m sure it will be fine.”
Great. Okay. I guess I don’t have much choice but taking her word for it. All I can really do is wait—and worry.
19
Another Favor
Monday’s another annoying bright day.
I hide in my room until it’s time for school. Sophia, still a little freaked out from last night, heads down to my room as soon as she’s home from school. I take that opportunity to pass along what Coralie said about how she could’ve taken her body back whenever she wanted to. Sophia’s confidence seems to return at hearing that, but she still wants to be clingy.
Pre-death me probably would’ve become a little frustrated with having her stuck to my side, but now I find it cute. She will eventually—at least I hope so—outgrow that at some point. It will be so weird having this little old woman following me around like an adoring kid sister. She takes clingy to literal heights for the rest of the time I’m home before having to leave for class. I’ve become a vampire pillow.
The sun today is unrelenting. Dad has to give me a ride in, and I’m half tempted to crawl into the trunk. I don’t, instead making do with a hood, sunglasses, and gloves. To avoid being stared at as the weird kid, I leave the gloves in the car a
nd run inside.
English Lit class is awkward due to the first ten or so minutes having entirely too much daylight for my liking. By 7:32 p.m., it’s completely dark out so I can relax. Or at least I could relax if I wasn’t worried about those mystics messing with my family.
Class starts with a discussion of our opinions on the stylistic change in Poe’s work throughout his writing career. Fortunately, we don’t need to read our essays out loud, but Professor Kendall asks us questions. Everything is reasonably normal until this one late-forties white woman randomly accuses Poe of being a racist, citing he chose the raven as a symbol of evil because it’s black.
What is the sound of nineteen heads slamming into nineteen desks at once?
Professor Kendall—who is black—blinks. “That is an interesting and unique theory. Ravens are regarded as harbingers of doom in several cultures. Does anyone have any ideas what Poe’s raven represents?”
A man on the left side of the room around Dad’s age says, “What if he just meant it to be a creepy talking bird? He was writing popular things for the day trying to make a living.”
“Yeah, like a writer describes the walls as being painted blue, it doesn’t have to be an allegory for sorrow. Maybe the room was just blue.” A twenty-something woman in the front row looks around in search of other people agreeing with her. “How much of what we think is symbolism never even crossed the mind of the person who wrote it?”
That discussion carries us past first break and well into the second half. Eventually, Professor Kendall pulls us back on topic. By the time class is over, I’ve got a bunch of homework studying literary terms, as well reading Hamlet.
As soon as I’m free for the night, I dash off into Seattle and grab a cop for a quick snack since I spot him wandering down a dark alley alone with his flashlight out. His blood almost makes me gag since it tastes like cheeseburger—reminds me of my first meal as a vampire: a thermos of Scott’s blood. Still, for expedience sake, I force myself to drink it, erase his memory of the past few minutes, and leave.
While flying home, I risk taking the phone out to call Aurélie.
The Phantom Oracle (Vampire Innocent Book 5) Page 17