Her mouth fell open. Brent nudged me toward the exit and hurried me out the front door, letting it slam shut behind us.
“Can you give me a ride to Steve’s?” he asked, his voice rough.
“Of course.” I slid my arm around his waist as we walked down the front steps. “Are you okay?”
“No.” He shook his head and hugged me closer. “I’m sorry. You were right. I never should have made you come.”
“She’s your mother. We had to try.” For once, I hated being right. I looked back at the house and saw Katie watching from the window. “Are you sure you made the right choice?”
“Yes.” He didn’t hesitate. Taking my shoulders, he turned me to face him. “It’s not even a question, Yara. You’re always the right choice.”
The next morning Cherie stopped by wearing a grin I recognized.
“You found something.” I waved her inside and hurried her to the living room, where I’d been crushing sprigs of lavender for Vovó, with the pestle I still held. I muted the TV and gave Cherie my full attention. “Tell me!”
“To be fair, Steve found it. His computer classes have been very helpful. He used his new and improved hacking skills to track down Farnsworth.” She clasped her hands together and bounced on her toes.
I dropped the pestle, which clunked onto the coffee table. “Where is he?”
“He’s in a retirement community here in Corona. But that’s not the interesting part. What stood out to me is who’s paying the bills.”
“Who?”
“Ted Modesto.” She waved her fingers in a ta-da motion.
Her excited expression morphed into impatience when I stared at her with a blank face and asked, “Who?”
“What would you do without me?” She hung her head and sighed. “Doesn’t the name mean anything to you?”
“Should it?”
Cherie rolled her eyes. “Wow. We remember totally different things.” She moved to the couch and pulled me down beside her. “Don’t you remember Sophia heard Crosby talking about ‘Modesto’ and ‘drought’? She thought it had something to do with the cure.”
“Vovó and I figured she meant Modesto, California.” It was one of the things we never checked up on because we were in Brazil. “That’s why we’re planning a road trip up there this weekend.”
“But Modesto could mean lots of things. It could be an acronym, it could be the city, or it could be this guy who is spending a lot of money to keep Farnsworth away from Pendrell. Don’t you wonder why Farnsworth was removed from Pendrell right when Crosby was on the move again?”
The thought had crossed my mind. “It’s pretty odd timing.”
Cherie waited like she expected more, but I didn’t have anything else. Finally she groaned. “How are you my best friend? You have a complete lack of imagination.”
I pointed to my eyes. “I see dead people.”
Cherie giggled. “That’s right. I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”
“Hi, we’re here to visit one of your . . .” Cherie fumbled for the politically correct word. “Residents. Headmaster, I mean Mr. Farnsworth.”
The lady behind the desk wore a Valencia Vista shirt and a pair of thick purple-framed glasses. “Can’t bring yourself to say his first name?”
“The man was our Headmaster.” Cherie shook her head. “He has no first name.”
I held up our plate of cookies. “We brought him some treats.”
“He’ll love that.” She pulled something up on her computer. I glanced around the lobby. This may have been a senior living home but it looked like an upscale hotel. There were several sitting areas made up of comfortable but expensive looking furniture, a grand piano, thick carpeting and a winding staircase with a wooden handrail and decorative wrought iron balusters.
“He’s in room two-twelve.” The receptionist said. She gave us instructions on how to find his room while we signed in.
We took the elevator to the second floor and turned right down the hall until we came to his apartment. Cherie knocked and we waited a few minutes until our former Headmaster opened the door.
“Hello. Can I help you?”
“Yep,” Cherie said. “We came by to visit our favorite Headmaster.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled and invited us in. It had only been three years but he’d aged a lot. It wasn’t the way he moved, but the extra wrinkles on his face and the added whiteness to his hair and beard. We walked past the neat kitchen and into his small, tidy living room. He sat down in a worn leather armchair and Cherie and I sat on his plaid couch. I placed the cookies on the coffee table.
“You were students at Pendrell?” he asked, reclining back into his chair.
Cherie and I glanced at each other for a fraction of a second before I answered. “Yes. I’m surprised you could forget us.”
“I’m afraid my memory has really gone downhill in the last few years.” His eyes were kind but devoid of any recognition. “I’ve forgotten so much.”
“Oh.”
“Well, that’s good, because we were both trouble makers.” Cherie twisted the heel of her shoe in the thick carpet. “Yara was responsible for breaking all the windows in the pool house.”
“You broke all the pool house windows?” He sat up straight before clapping his hands together and laughing. “It’s probably best I don’t remember you.”
I propped my elbow on the arm of the couch considering the best way to proceed since he’d forgotten me. I decided being direct might be the best choice. “Well, you may have forgotten us but I’m sure you remember the Clutch and we have a few questions.”
“The clutch? Of a car? I’m afraid I’ve never been very good with cars.” He crossed his ankle over his knee. “Not like my father. He was a mechanic.”
“No, not the clutch of a—” Cherie started.
I cut her off with a firm shake of my head. He obviously had some form of Alzheimer’s. I didn’t want to press him for information he no longer remembered. I’d seen a few cases helping Vovó in Brazil. Nothing she did eased the emotional pain of that debilitating disease.
Smiling, I said, “I didn’t know your father was a mechanic.”
“Oh, yes.”
I let my mind wander while Farnsworth talked about his father’s shop. It made me sad to see how much he’d already forgotten. I didn’t know much about what he was suffering, but I knew it would only get worse with time.
We didn’t learn anything from the visit, but I was glad we’d stopped to see him.
The next day, while Brent hung out with Steve, Cherie sifted through the newspaper and searched the web for Crosby’s upcoming appearances, while I tried to find information on Grady.
Cherie twisted her back until it popped. “There should be some fundraiser or something, but there isn’t.”
“It’s like he knows we’re looking for him.”
“Grady did see you here in California flipping through political magazines.” She met my gaze over the top of her laptop. “Crosby might be lying low.”
My eyes drifted toward the high school yearbook from Pendrell I’d found. “Poor Grady.”
“Did you find out anything?”
“He loved rap music, baseball, and slam poetry.”
Cherie raised an eyebrow. “Does that help?”
“Well the yearbook included a poem he wrote, so that’s good. I’m going to add his favorite song to my playlist.”
Cherie laughed. “Ah, rap. It will go so well with all that crooner jazz in your music library.”
“Not my usual taste, that’s for sure.”
“You needed to broaden your musical selections anyway,” DJ said.
I jumped at the sound of his voice. “I hate that you can just pop in like that. We need to get you a cowbell to wear around your neck.”
Sun streamed in through the large windows, and though he stood beside me, there was only my shadow on the kitchen cabinets. Sometimes only the little things reminded me he wa
s dead. I could see him, touch him, and talk with him, but that didn’t mean he was alive.
“Ghost?” Cherie didn’t glance up from her computer.
“Yep,” I said, shaking off my morbid thoughts. “DJ.”
She perked up. “Where?”
I pointed to where he stood. “Over there.”
“Hey, DJ.” She waved. “I’m sorry you died.”
Her words sounded trite but she meant what she said. DJ fidgeted and cleared his throat. “It’s weird that she has no problem talking to someone she can’t see.”
DJ moved toward Cherie and studied the computer screen over her shoulder.
“She’s very open minded,” I explained. “I said you’re there, so she believes me.”
“Yep,” she said. “And I never threw rocks at her for saying her grandma could see spirits.”
“That was in second grade. I’ve already apologized.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You people sure know how to hold a grudge.”
I chuckled and went back to reading up on Grady.
“Yara, your friend’s here,” my mom said as she came into the kitchen.
My smile died as soon as I looked up and saw someone I never expected to see in my house. “Kalina.”
Cherie’s head snapped toward our visitor so fast I was surprised she didn’t give herself whiplash. My best friend had never met the girl who basically ambushed and threatened me at prom.
“Hello, Yara. Cherie.” Kalina’s eyes paused on DJ. “Ghost.”
“There’s a ghost here?” My mom asked. She reached to her spice rack for the powder I had stashed there for ghostly emergencies. “Friendly or not?”
“Friendly.” I glanced at DJ. He stood totally still, his eyes closed. “Do you know DJ?”
Kalina shook her head. “No, but I’ve seen him in the visions of you at Pendrell. He’s the one who stole the notebooks from you, right?”
DJ muttered something about rocks and hard places under his breath.
“Well, yeah, but he also gave us the information that took down the Clutch. Crosby killed him.”
My mom gasped. “DJ is the ghost? The boy who drove you to the E.R. when you got your concussion senior year?”
“Yep.”
DJ still had his eyes closed, a frown on his face.
My mom put down her protective mixture, her face pale. “He died? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“We just didn’t want to worry you, Mom.”
“I’m already worried, Yara! I always am. You were gone for three years doing who knows what and you only come home to face a man who’s killing people.” She took out a pot and slammed it onto the burner.
I crossed the kitchen and put my arms around her.
“I’m sorry.” I patted her on the back. “I’m going to figure out a way to make all of this right.”
“That shouldn’t be your job.” She took a shaky breath. “I should be the one protecting you.”
“And you do, Mom.”
Cherie cleared her throat, reminding us we weren’t alone. “What brings you here, Kalina?” Her voice had an edge to it I didn’t hear very often.
My mom rolled her shoulders and stepped back. “I’m sorry. All this talk of ghosts—”
“Kalina knows all about ghosts.” I rubbed my mom’s arm. “She’s a Waker, with the American council.”
“Oh.” My mom started to smile and then must have remembered our conversations about the council because the grin morphed into a frown. “Do I need to call your grandmother?”
“There’s no need.” Kalina shifted from foot to foot, spinning the material covered bracelet at her wrist. “I’m not here as a representative. I only want to talk to Yara.”
Kalina seemed agitated, her gray eyes almost pleading. She wasn’t acting like the confident, collected girl I’d met years ago. Something had her spooked.
“Okay,” I said.
Kalina gave me a wan smile. “Thank you.”
“Mom, I’ll let you know if I need Vovó.” I motioned for Kalina to follow me upstairs.
Cherie trailed us into my room. DJ appeared as we entered. He stood with his back toward me, staring out the window. I closed the door before rounding on Kalina.
“What are you doing here?”
“You’re taking too long.” She shuffled her feet, transferring her balance from one foot to the other, her fingers still spinning her battered bracelet. “I thought you wanted to save Brent’s life.”
“You don’t deserve to even say his name. How dare you come here and tell me I’m not working fast enough?” I folded my arms to resist the urge to punch her. “You want me to come in and solve problems your entire council ignored for years and now you’re blackmailing us with a cure that might not even exist. You’re as bad as the Clutch.”
“We aren’t blackmailing you.” She leaned back onto my desk. “We’re giving you the proper motivation.”
Cherie clutched a throw pillow from my bed to her chest. “No. You’re sitting back letting Yara and Vovó take all the risks.”
“Why are you even here, Cherie? This has nothing to do with you.” Kalina snapped. “Yara made this mess.”
“The barrier would’ve come down with or without my blood and you know it.” I gave her a level stare, daring her to disagree with me. “I’m sick of being blamed.”
“Yes, but it would have taken months longer.” Kalina gestured wildly. “We would have had more time to prepare.”
“If a few decades weren’t enough to help you get rid of the Clutch, I doubt a few months would’ve done much good.”
Kalina opened her mouth to respond, but stopped when Cherie walked between us, took the lighter off the nightstand, and lit my three-wicked peace and calming candle. Cherie noticed my bemused expression and shrugged. “What? Every little bit can help. And you two need to stop arguing.”
Cherie’s cell phone rang. “It’s Steve. I better take this.” She seemed to think better of it. “Will you two be okay if I leave you alone?”
Kalina snorted. “I’m not going to hurt her.”
“I wasn’t worried about you.” Cherie’s lips twisted in a smile. “My best friend has a legendary temper.”
“I promise to play nice. Besides, DJ’s here; he can restrain us if need be, since he can touch us both.”
Cherie seemed to debate my sincerity, but finally glanced at each of us, nodded, and slipped out of the room.
I took a deep breath of the candle-perfumed air and found it did help a bit. “Why are you here?”
“I told you, you were—”
“Something’s changed. You seem nervous.”
She stilled. “Nothing’s happened. I just needed an update and . . .” her voice trailed off.
“I don’t trust you. I’m not even sure if the scroll you have could help Brent. It might be a recipe for homemade salsa for all I know. I need you to show it to me.”
Kalina slipped her bracelet off and on. “Why would I do that? You’d probably take the information and then run back to Brazil.”
“You guys have spent all this time spying on me and you still know nothing about me, do you?” For once, she looked a little ashamed. “I wouldn’t do that. What Crosby’s doing isn’t my fault, but I’m going to do what I can to stop him.”
I expected an outburst, but Kalina smiled. “I knew you’d to say that.”
What? It took me a second to realize how. “Right. Your visions.”
“Not only that. It fits what I know of you.”
I glanced at DJ, but he was still focused on the window. “Won’t Kathryn be upset that you came here?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She looked me in the eye. “Kathryn doesn’t own me.” Bitterness laced her words.
I raised my eyebrow in surprise. “Don’t care for your head Matriarca?”
She clenched her jaw and spoke through gritted teeth. “She compels me.”
I shook my head, sure I must have heard her wrong. “She what?”
; “I’m a Returned. She can compel me to do what she wants. We’re closer to the spirit world so she can order us around, like ghosts and those who can project. She’s the one who made me warn you away at your prom.”
“But, you can’t compel a Waker,” I said slowly.
“You can if she’s a Returned,” she said in a small voice.
It felt like someone had turned my blood to ice. “Vovó said she couldn’t compel me.”
“Either she didn’t know, or she lied.” Kalina’s face was emotionless but her hands kept fingering her bracelet. “Keep your distance from Kathryn. Your grandma being with you at that meeting was the only reason Kathryn didn’t try to compel you as well.”
My knees felt weak and a wave of nausea rippled through me. Something inside me believed her.
“Could she do that?” DJ asked. He still faced the window, but was apparently paying attention. “Could any Matriarca compel Yara?”
Kalina brushed her strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder. “Yes. And she doesn’t have to be your Matriarca to do it.” Her defeated expression seemed to mirror the dread I felt. “I tried fighting it, but Kathryn threatened to mark me.”
“I don’t know what that means.” I put my hand to my head. “I’m not sure I want to.”
Kalina sighed and with shaking hands folded her arms. “When a Waker is marked, it robs them of all of their abilities.”
“I didn’t even know that was possible.” I shuddered. Vovó had never mentioned anything like that to me.
“She’s done it to others” Kalina’s eyes were full of misery. “It was awful.”
I flinched and my stomach rolled. “How horrible.”
“I’m not surprised you’re grandma never told you about it. She seems very different from my Matriarca. To Kathryn, I’m nothing more than her foot soldier.” Kalina smiled, a grim expression that held more defiance than humor. “Which is why she shouldn’t be surprised that I brought you this.”
She unzipped her hoodie and withdrew a scroll.
I gasped, my eyes almost popping out of their sockets. I inched closer to her. “Is that . . .?”
DJ spun around, his eyes wide. His mouth opened and then snapped shut, only a strangled groan escaping. His nostrils flared, his hands clenched and unclenched. Our eyes met for a brief second, the color in his seemed wrong. And then he vanished.
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