inevitablepub

by Lani Woodland

  Dad grinned. “Impressive.”

  I sank into the chair next to Brent. “We’d be lucky if they just wanted that. You should have seen them; they eyed Brent like a lab experiment.”

  My dad folded his hands across his stomach. “Really?”

  Brent explained to my dad about the rest of the meeting with the American Wakers. While they talked, I let my eyes wander around the kitchen. My parents had repainted the tan walls white and replaced the dark granite countertop with a lighter slab, but it felt the same; safe and filled with love. My fingers traced the old wooden table, pock marked from use.

  The conversation stopped and I made myself pay attention.

  Dad rested his chin on his chest for a moment before glancing at Vovó. “I can see why you’ve always tried to avoid the council before.”

  “Me too,” I said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they were trying to start a whole new race of male Wakers or whatever they would call them.” I didn’t bother to hide my shudder. “Or maybe cut Brent open and see what makes him tick.”

  My father ruffled my hair. “Don’t be so dramatic, Queridinha.”

  “She may be right.” Vovó twisted her locket’s chain around her fingers. “After all, they invited him to join them.”

  I winced. Vovó giving credence to my worries only made them grow.

  She patted my hand. “I wish I could ease your mind, but that wouldn’t solve the problem. We need to look at this with a clear head and be very honest in what we find.”

  Vovó took off her glasses and wiped them against her shirt. “Can you remember anything from your first meeting with Kalina that might be helpful?”

  I thought back to prom and my breath hitched. “The first time I met Kalina she mentioned Brent.” I turned toward Brent. “They must have been watching you for years.”

  “Come on. You’re both freaking out over nothing.” Brent put his hand on my knee under the table. “Things like that don’t happen outside of science fiction movies, right?”

  To most people in the world that would be true, but in this house his argument didn’t hold water. Three of the people in this room could see spirits, Brent could control the elements, Vovó had earth magic, and I could manipulate water. All of those things sounded like something straight out of a science fiction movie, but they were all true. Was a group of power hungry, gun-for-hire Wakers wanting to experiment on Brent any more of a stretch? I shivered at the obvious answer.

  No, it wasn’t.

  My dad cleared his throat. “You said there were four Matriarca Wakers there tonight? I always thought you said Kathryn was their leader.”

  Vovó slipped her glass back on. “Kathryn is the direct descendent of one of the three original Wakers. She can trace her lineage back through the Azevedo family. The three others are the leaders of their own lines, but they are branches off the original one. Since Kathryn’s is most direct, she is the Matriarca over all of them, every Azevedo family.”

  “But we have lots of different families in Brazil,” I said. “We don’t have anything like that there.”

  My dad chuckled. “No? The Sousa line, your grandma’s maiden name, is one of the originals. Haven’t you noticed how most Wakers in Brazil seek your grandma’s help? They are all offshoots from the Sousa family. Most of the Wakers in Brazil are, except for those from the Dias line, like my dad’s side of the family. His mom was a Dias and they have their own grand-dame of Matriarcas. My grandma was their head Matriarca before she died.”

  It was odd to think that my Grandpa Silva had been raised by a Waker and had also married one. He’d been well trained for a life full of spirits. My dad had been raised on Waker stories from his mom and his grandma. But he’d married a woman without any Waker abilities.

  “So, you’re the Kathryn for Brazil?” Brent asked.

  Vovó frowned. “She is too greedy to deserve her position. I lead over the Sousa line, but not the Dias.”

  Brent whistled. “Still, you’re the head honcho of not just your immediate family but all of the distant relatives. It’s pretty impressive. And with Yara’s great-grandma being from the other line . . . she has some powerful genes.”

  Yeah, but what I needed was the ability, not just the potential.

  My mom came down then and ended any further conversation. In theory, she supported my Waker heritage, but the reality of it scared her. She’d been supportive of my time in Brazil so I could learn to defend myself, but my drowning and Sophia’s attacks had left her understandably nervous. She’d already lost one child. Dad would tell her about the new threats in his own gentle way later.

  For the rest of the evening, we carefully avoided the subject of Crosby, as well as the American Wakers—or council, as my dad dubbed them—but the mounting list of problems and enemies kept me from truly enjoying the evening with my parents.

  After helping my mom with the dishes, I looked for Brent and found him studying the sword collection my dad kept in a series of locked glass display cabinets. They were beautiful and dangerous. My favorite was a samurai-style Katana sword, but my dad’s was the plastic light saber my brother Kevin had given him.

  “He’s added a few new ones,” Brent said.

  “Yeah. Melanie started dating someone new.”

  Brent smirked at me. “Glad it’s not me this time.”

  I bit back a smile. “Well, it could be if you don’t behave yourself.”

  Brent’s hands circled my waist and drew me close to him. His lips brushed against mine. Once. Twice. The third time they lingered and the kiss changed. My lips parted and—

  “Have you seen the key to my sword cabinet?” my dad asked loudly from the doorway.

  Brent sprang away from me, his face flushed, and his eyes unfocused. “No need for that, Leonardo.”

  “That little display would suggest you need a reminder.” My dad gave Brent a level stare. “I trust things like that did not happen while in Brazil.”

  Brent managed to blanch and blush at the same time. “O-o-of course not.”

  My dad’s eyes narrowed.

  I decided I needed to jump into the fray. “Dad, I’m not in high school anymore.”

  He turned his eyes on me. “Graduation did not change the rules. He will continue to treat you with the proper respect or I will make good on my threat.”

  Brent gulped and my dad laughed.

  When it was time to go to bed, my mother insisted Brent spend the night with us instead of driving to his mom’s house.

  “I’m just afraid your jet lag will catch up to you on the road and you’ll fall asleep at the wheel,” she said.

  “You can take Melanie’s old room,” my dad told him. The room in the house that was furthest from my own. Brent and I shared an amused smile before he followed my mom down the hall.

  I walked into my own room and absorbed the memories that washed over me. It had been cleaned since I’d moved to Brazil, but everything else was the same. A thick blue and green comforter covered my twin bed. Sky blue walls and white furniture were saved from being drab by the splashes of green and dark blue of my bedding and knickknacks. A few posters of my favorite musicians lined the back of my closet door. This room didn’t quite belong to me anymore, but to the teenager I’d once been.

  I hadn’t stayed here consistently since my junior year of high school, before I enrolled at Pendrell. Back then my biggest worry had been the possibility of my Waker genes developing. Strange. Now, I couldn’t imagine my life without being a Waker anymore, and didn’t want to. It was a part of me now, an intrinsic part.

  As I changed into my pajamas and lay down in my old bed, I tried reconciling what I knew about the American council with what Vovó had taught me about being a Waker. The rules they followed seemed so different from the ones my family adhered to. The thought of using ghosts as slave labor left a sour taste in my mouth. They might not have bodies anymore but each spectral being had value. They’d been alive once with their own dreams and families and people they
loved. How could someone justify using them by force? And how did any part of being a Waker involve working for the government?

  With morals as corrupt as that, it wouldn’t surprise me if the scroll they tempted Brent with contained nothing more than random herbal recipes or their shopping list. It seemed way too convenient that they had managed to find it when all of Vovó’s searching had turned up nothing.

  The council seemed to know a lot about Brent’s abilities, but that didn’t mean they knew anything about curing his illness. Like Brent had said, I trusted them about as much as I trusted the Clutch.

  No matter how uneasy I felt about the council, I couldn’t regret agreeing to help Brent take down Crosby. I’d already planned on it after DJ’s appearance. I wanted justice for all those Crosby had hurt. He would pay for what he’d done to Brent, to me, to Amy, to DJ, and probably to others I’d never met and who’s names I’d never know. Crosby had to be stopped. Before he killed anyone else.

  Somehow it didn’t surprise me that DJ chose that moment to appear, sitting in the chair near my bed.

  “Hey, Cupcake.”

  I gave him a sad smile and sat up, trying hard not to cry. I had a lot of questions for him, but the one I asked first was, “How did you die? Did you suffer?”

  He shrugged. “Dunno. It’s all fuzzy. I just remember seeing Crosby.”

  “Do you know where you’re buried?”

  “No. I know there hasn’t been a funeral, though. My dad doesn’t even know I’m dead yet.”

  I cringed at the emotionless, straightforward way he talked about his own death. Like it didn’t matter. “Why are you still here? Didn’t you see the light?” I pulled my pillow onto my lap. “I would’ve thought you wanted to see your mom and Amy.”

  He scoffed. “Oh, I saw it. And then I ran as hard as I could the other direction.”

  “Why?” His answer surprised me. I knew how much he loved his sister and mom.

  “I’d just been murdered, Yara.” His eyebrows raised and pulled together as though he couldn’t understand why I didn’t get it. “My sister had just been murdered. I want revenge. Or at least justice. Preferably revenge.”

  I frowned. “Revenge is not a reason to stay out of the light DJ. It’s the worst reason to avoid it.”

  DJ gave me a level stare.

  How did he not understand this? “You need to cross over. Don’t you remember what happened to Sophia? Sticking around after your death will just warp you into something inhuman.”

  “Okay.”

  I threw my hands up in frustration but then clasped them together. “I know what I’m talking about. Please listen to me.”

  “I hear you.” He jumped to his feet. “But I can’t leave it like this. I wouldn’t be able to settle there knowing I left such a mess behind me.”

  “You don’t know that. Maybe all this anger and rage will be taken away. Maybe you’ll find peace in the light and none of this will matter.”

  DJ hung his head. “How could this possibly not matter? It should always matter.”

  Despite knowing it would probably hurt, I reached out and placed my hand over his. The icy feel of his spirit burned my skin and I concentrated very hard to keep from wincing. He finally smiled at me. “I miss being touched. One of those things you don’t think matters until it’s gone.”

  The loneliness of his words made me want to hug him and so I did. The quick contact made me shiver. When I pulled back I looked into his green eyes. “Move on, DJ. We’ll get him. He’s got a lot to pay for and we won’t let him get away.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. But you need me. He’s after you and Brent. You guys know the truth about him and you know about the journals. He won’t stop until you’re dead and you’d be stupid not to accept any help you can get. Even the dead kind.”

  “The journals.” I sat up straight and pulled my throw-blanket around me to ward off the chill still coursing through me from touching DJ. “Do you know what’s in them?”

  DJ shook his head. “I never got a chance to read them.”

  “Any guess?”

  “Not a clue.” The corners of his mouth drooped and his green eyes lost some of their fiery determination. He sighed and sat back down. “Please be careful.”

  “I will.” I took a deep breath, working up the courage to ask him my next question. “How did Amy die?”

  “The police said it was a random carjacking. I might have believed it if I hadn’t seen the Clutch’s ring they left on Amy’s finger as a message to me. I tried to talk to the police. That Roberts guy who worked with you senior year seemed to believe me, but he never got back to me.”

  He drummed his fingers against his leg. “Crosby wanted to punish me, to warn me off. He knew I was the one who sent the cops the flash drive with the info that put the rest of the Clutch in prison. I think he suspected I’d been stalking his campaign trail and making it… well, more eventful than he wanted. He tried to scare me off, but obviously he doesn’t know me very well.”

  “Yeah, but you died.”

  He shook his head, but he looked a little guilty. “If I wasn’t dead, I wouldn’t have known he was after you guys again.”

  “DJ—”

  “I’m not saying I like it. Dying wasn’t exactly in my game plan, but I might be better off.”

  “You aren’t better off dead,” I snapped. “Don’t ever say that. Crosby wasn’t worth your life.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.” DJ shoved his hands in pockets. “You really think his plans stop at being a senator? We may not know what’s in the journals but we do know he’s willing to kill to protect them. I can go places you can’t. And I’m willing to do things you’re not.”

  Like always, he vanished before I could press him for more information. I was left to toss and turn for hours as I tried to find an answer. It took a long time to realize I didn’t even know what question I was supposed to ask.

  Chapter 5

  “Your parents never were gardeners.” Vovó tsked as she crouched down at the edge of her garden.

  I glanced back at the neat and robust rows of herbs and flowers. It looked beautiful to me. I squatted down next to her and ran my hands along the fertile soil. “It feels healthy.”

  “Sim, but they have let it grow wild.”

  Brent took the pair of shears she handed him. “What do you think the council meant when they told me to take down Crosby? Get him arrested?”

  “That has to be the plan.” I unearthed a weed growing between the flowers. “It’s not like we’re out to murder the guy.”

  Vovó tunneled her shovel into the ground. “We won’t know how to stop him until we find out what exactly he is capable of.”

  “He’s capable of murder,” Brent said cutting off a long branch. “And seems to have no moral compass whatsoever. Will turning him over to the police be enough?”

  “It has to be. We aren’t vigilantes.” Vovó dug the shovel back into the ground. “In order to do this, we will need to learn his abilities, his strengths, and his weaknesses. We need to study him. The same way we would a ghost we wished to help.”

  “We don’t even know where to find him.” I threw another weed into the pile. “I don’t get why they think we’ll have any better luck than they did. With or without Brent’s abilities, pretty much any Waker except me has a chance of getting close to Crosby. He knows what I look like and he’s already trying to kill me. I’m the worst spy they could pick.”

  “The council blames us for his rise to power.” Vovó set her shovel down and rested her hands on her knees. “They ignored the Clutch while it was trapped inside Pendrell, but we fought them. We know their strengths and weaknesses.”

  “We found weaknesses? I don’t remember that.” I shook my head. “And he’s had those journals for years. We don’t know anything anymore.”

  Vovó patted the dirt around a tiny basil plant. “We know he’s full of pride and hungry for power.”

  “Yeah, but so is Kathryn.” Bren
t cut into another long branch. “I still don’t trust her or the council. They’re holding something back.”

  Vovó nodded. “Of course they are, but Crosby is the immediate concern. The council at least has not tried to murder Yara.”

  “That was a bad move on Crosby’s part.” Brent thrashed a bush with the shears. “But how are we going to get him?”

  Vovó wiped the dirt from her hands. “What do you think, Yara?”

  Another test. I continued weeding as I thought through what we knew. I couldn’t think of anything. We didn’t know enough.

  “We need more information, like what he’s been up to since we left.”

  Brent gave me a look that asked, “How?”

  I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “He’s running for office, so that means there should be a ton of articles, video, and interviews online. Political gossip, even.”

  “Cherie and Steve have been here.” Brent bent and picked up the fallen branches. “They probably have more information off the top of their heads than we’d have after hours of digging.”

  Vovó stood and stretched. “Call Cherie and ask for her help.”

  I squinted up at Vovó whose back was to the sun. “Her finals are this week. As soon as they’re over I’ll call.”

  Brent sighed. “I have to go see my mom today.”

  I tried to hide my displeasure and push past my own petty feelings. She might deserve my unkind thoughts but she was still his mom. I gave him a strained smile that I hoped looked supportive. “Want me to come?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s the best idea. She’s still kinda ticked about Brazil. I’d spend more time defending you than talking to her.”

  “And you think if I’m not there she’ll hate me less?”

  He laughed without any humor. “No, but at least you won’t have to hear it.”

  “True enough.” Relief flooded through me. Maybe I could avoid her for the whole time we were here. That thought brought a tune to my lip and I hummed the rest of the time I worked in the garden.