She smiles at us, and her smile lingers on Lucio.
“Hey! Is this a party? Oooh, nacho cheese–flavored popcorn!”
“Hi, Ash! We’re strategizing about stuff. How was your first ballet class with the Russian lady?” I ask.
“Awesome. We worked on entrechat and pas de poisson jumps. Madame Gergiev says I have ‘great potential.’ Her exact words, I swear. Soooo, a strategy sesh, huh? What can I do to help?” She sidles up to Lucio and playfully slips her hand through his arm.
Lucio stares at her in surprise, then he gracefully extracts himself by bending down and retying his shoelaces. “Nolan and I were just catching Sunshine up on our research,” he replies, all business.
Ashley bristles ever so slightly and gives me a subtle what’s-up-with-him? look. I don’t think she’s used to guys saying no to her.
“Here.” Nolan splays out his notebook for Ashley to see. He points to his notes, which are in small, meticulous cursive. “Sunshine, can we include Ashley in the—”
“—yes,” I reply hastily. “But that’s it, okay? We’re now an inner circle of four. And Ashley, this stuff is top secret. I mean it.”
“You can trust me,” Ashley promises.
She sets down her dance bag and begins to read Nolan’s notes. I peer over her shoulder and read along.
*Aidan asked Lucio and me to research the five locations on the geographical pentagram: Hokkaido, Japan; Rapa Nui (Easter Island); the Chukchi Peninsula in Russia; the Cape York Peninsula in Queensland, Australia; and Ridgemont, Washington. We’ve been looking for common features (like demographics, climate, ecosystems, linguistic origins, forms of government, etc.). So far we have not found anything significant, except that these locations lie on a hypothetical pentagram and that an unexplained luiseach death took place in each of the first four locations, four years apart starting in the year of Sunshine’s birth. Also, the violent crime rates in all four locations spiked in the weeks and months leading up to these luiseach deaths. Strangely, we came across no news stories regarding the luiseach deaths. Who were the victims, and how did they die? We asked Aidan, and he said he didn’t know.
*He also asked us to research demonic spells (especially those related to pentagrams) and possible ways to stop or reverse them. No findings to report yet.
* Side note: While researching demonic spells and pentagrams, we came across an oblique reference to an ancient book containing prophecies, instructions, etc. for demons and dark spirits. Not sure if this book actually existed/exists or if it is apocryphal/legendary in nature.
*Regarding the light spirit Kirsten who turned dark only hours after her death: How did this happen? Are there other spirits like her?
*Also, the Kirsten spirit grabbed Sunshine’s wrist and left a spider-web-like mark on the skin. The mark has grown in size, shrunk in size, changed shape, gotten darker, gotten lighter, and disappeared altogether. It seems to be gone now? The mark was made up of ten short lines. We are searching for information on such a phenomenon.
*Sunshine found a dead bird on her front porch. (See printout of photo on following page.) The bird may or may not be connected to the current situation. We are trying to identify the bird’s class, order, family, genus, and species. Definitely not native to Washington State.
Ashley gazes at Nolan in admiration. “Wow, it’s like we’re in college! I didn’t understand half the words you wrote here! Actually, J-K, I understood most of it. This stuff is super-scary. You guys have been through a lot!”
“Sunshine’s the one who’s been through a lot,” Lucio says, nodding in my direction.
“Absolutely.” Nolan drapes his arm around my shoulder.
Ashley leans her head toward mine. “It’s not fair that you have two hot guys fawning over you and I have zero,” she whispers in my ear.
“Shhhh!” I shush Ashley, hoping Nolan and Lucio didn’t overhear.
Although I do have to admit it’s a little weird being here with the three of them. Nolan likes me… Ashley likes Lucio… Lucio likes me… I like Nolan. We’re like some sort of bizarre love quadrangle.
Someone’s phone beeps with an incoming text. Lucio pulls his cell out of his jeans pocket and peers at the screen. “It’s Aidan. He wants me to head back to Llevar la Luz right away and pick up some important files for him and also take care of some other stuff. We, uh, left in kind of a hurry,” he adds with a sideways glance at me.
I smile apologetically. “Sorry. I had to get home ASAP. I knew Aidan would try to stop me because, well, he has this delusional notion that he knows what’s best for me.”
“He does know what’s best for you, Sunshine,” Lucio says quietly. “Anyway, you don’t need to worry about security because he and Helena are going to watch you in twelve-hour shifts while I’m gone. So you’ll be covered.”
Helena. I haven’t seen her since Saturday night when she gave me the necklace, although I can feel her presence nearby during her shifts. I wonder what she’s been up to? And when is her council arriving in Ridgemont? Has she spoken to them about me yet and convinced them not to execute me?
Ashley’s face lights up. “Hey, I just had a major brainstorm! Maybe the four of us should do a road trip to Llevar la Luz. That way, Sunshine, you can escape from the demon dude and his minions. Besides, I didn’t get a chance to enjoy Mexico during the two seconds I was there to rescue you. I’m talking sandy beaches, fish tacos, mango smoothies, dancing under the stars…”
“Hey, that’s actually a great idea,” Lucio agrees. “You should come with me, Sunshine. No one can step foot inside the compound unless they’re invited by one of us. You’d be totally safe there—or safer than here anyway.”
Nolan raises one eyebrow.
“You should come with me, Sunshine… AND ASHLEY AND NOLAN,” Ashley mutters under her breath.
I squeeze her hand really hard to shut her up. She lets out a tiny yelp.
“Thanks, you guys, but I need to stay here,” I say. “Aidan may think he’s going to nab Dubu singlehandedly, but I want to do my share too. Besides, I have Bastian now, remember? I can’t just leave him here to fend for himself. He has no luiseach skills, and he needs training. Otherwise he’s going to be as helpless and messed up as I used to be.” And still am sometimes, I add silently.
Lucio nods. “Understood.”
“Come on, Ash, let’s introduce these guys to the wonderful world of nacho cheese–flavored popcorn,” I suggest with a grin.
Ashley grins back. “Totes!”
As she passes the bowl around I think about the idea of escaping to Llevar la Luz. There is something so tempting about it, which is ironic because just last week I couldn’t wait to get the heck out of there.
But running away isn’t an option. If I really am Dubu’s target, and if he really wants to find me, then he’ll find me for darned sure.
No matter where I try to hide.
Besides, it’s not just about him and me. If the pentagram spell really is a doomsday spell, then it’s about the end of the world. And I may be the luiseach to stop that because I am the luiseach, the one who is destined to save humanity.
As long as I don’t let myself become the fifth point on the pentagram and trigger the spell to begin with, that is.
Temptation
One of my dark servants has informed me they are on their way to this geographical location. This was not part of the prophecy, which augers neither well nor badly… it is merely an interesting development.
Did my beloved call them here? If so, for what purpose? Is it about the girl? Or have they become aware of the prophecy and are beginning to organize against us?
I have watched her watch the girl every day. I cannot glean if she is protecting the girl or pretending to protect the girl or observing her for some entirely different reason.
Of course, I have found myself longing to come out of hiding and approach my beloved, make myself known to her.
But I must bide my time. I cannot—I must not—do a
nything to jeopardize the unfolding of the glorious prophecy. No matter the temptation.
Soon, though.
Very soon.
CHAPTER 20
Hope
Bastian invites me to his house. Or rather, I invite myself and he reluctantly agrees.
I wanted somewhere very private to speak to him, which meant my house was not a great option. He said his parents would be out for a few hours late Saturday afternoon, so we settled on five P.M., which was fine with me, as I had my training with Aidan earlier. This time from around now through around sunrise tomorrow is technically Helena’s shift—Lucio said that she and Aidan were switching off every twelve hours while he was in Mexico. But I didn’t see her or even sense her presence before I left my house. If I had, I would have canceled my trip to Bastian’s—I can’t lead Helena (or Aidan or anyone else) to him and reveal his secret.
Although this means I’m technically without a luiseach bodyguard on this little excursion. I’ll have to be extra careful.
Bastian said his house was in the middle of nowhere. Following his directions, I drive up the road that winds around Ridge Mountain. I’ve actually never been up here. Along the way I spot a few modest cottages and cabins tucked away in the woods. Otherwise, it’s very secluded and peaceful and nature-y. It really is in the middle of nowhere.
The address he gave me is at the end of the road, near the summit.
An ornate antique mailbox, a long, tree-lined driveway… and here’s the Jansen house.
Whoa. It’s not like the other houses on this road. It’s a mansion.
When Bastian said “mountain retreat,” I thought he meant like a rustic log shack with a couple of rocking chairs out front. But no. This is an elegant Italianate mini-palace with white stucco walls and stained-glass windows. A large, perfectly manicured rose garden occupies much of the front lawn, with an elaborate gold fountain at the center.
I didn’t even know places like this existed in Ridgemont.
I park in the semicircular driveway and step out of the car. The front door opens before I’m halfway there, and I half-expect to see an elderly butler dressed in a tuxedo.
But instead Bastian steps out.
“Sunshine, hello,” he calls out. He’s dressed casually today, in jeans and a light blue cashmere pullover and black leather loafers. He actually looks nice.
“Hi! Your house is really… wow. It’s gorgeous.”
“It was built by my father’s grandfather, Aldo Jansen. Please do come in. Minette, be quiet!” Bastian commands a small white poodle that’s yipping at his heels.
He holds the door open for me, and I enter the front hallway. A crystal chandelier hangs overhead. Beautiful old oil paintings cover the walls—a combination of portraits and landscapes. The soles of my Chuck Taylors squeak against the pearly-white marble floor.
“So when are your parents coming home?” I ask him, glancing around.
“Not for a few hours at least. They’re having dinner in town. Why don’t we sit in the parlor?”
“You have a parlor? That’s so Victorian and awesome!”
“Um, thank you.”
Bastian leads me to the parlor, which truly is Victorian and awesome. We sit down on a red velvet settee. On top of the antique coffee table is a sterling silver tea set. Framed black-and-white photographs line the top of a baby grand piano. Classical music drifts from invisible speakers.
“J. S. Bach. His six suites for solo cello,” Bastian says, gesturing to the air.
“It’s really beautiful. Do you play an instrument?” I ask.
“Yes. My parents had me take piano, violin, and cello lessons from the time I was four and a half. My brother…” He hesitates.
“Oh, you have a brother?”
“Had. I… it is a long story. Sunshine, why did you want to speak to me?”
“Oh yeah. That.”
Minette the poodle trots into the parlor, nails clicking against the polished wood floor, and jumps onto my lap. She circles around three, four, five times, then finds her spot and settles down with a contented sigh.
Like Minette, I’ve been going around and around this in my head—that is, how to talk to Bastian about him probably, definitely being a luiseach and about me probably, definitely becoming his luiseach mentor. In some ways there’s an argument to be made that I should break all this to him slowly and gradually so he doesn’t get spooked and run away, which is exactly what I wanted to do, what I almost would have given my right arm to do, when Aidan made his dramatic entrance into my life and announced matter-of-factly that he was my mentor and asked if I was ready to save humanity.
Bastian could still tell me to go away. That’s what I did with Aidan at first and a bunch of other times too. Not that it’s worked so far.
But hopefully I can convince Bastian. We need more luiseach to help us help humans. If Bastian truly is a luiseach—and at this point I’m almost ten-out-of-ten convinced he is—then he’ll be an invaluable asset. Not to mention proof that my birth wasn’t the doomsday event Helena pronounced it to be.
I pet Minette on the head and then begin.
“The thing we talked about the other day. Have you had a chance to think about it?”
“You mean the loose… Louise… I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten how to pronounce it. I do remember how to spell it, though. L-U-I-S-E-A-C-H.”
“Luiseach,” I articulate slowly. “As in, loo and seech.”
“Yes, luiseach. We have a book about mythical creatures here in our library. I skimmed through it for a reference to these luiseach, but there was none. I found a mythical South American death spirit called a luison, and a mythical Chinese beast that could detect the truth called a luduan, but no luiseach.”
“Yeah, well, the luiseach aren’t mythical. We’re quite real.”
“By ‘we,’ you mean you and the other luiseach? How many of you are there?”
“I’m not sure exactly. Thousands maybe? Or tens of thousands? In any case, I was referring specifically to you and me just now.”
Bastian drops his gaze and wrings his hands in his lap. His right leg begins to shake, and he grabs his knee to stop it. Color floods his cheeks.
“Sunshine, I don’t believe I’m one of these… one of you,” he says, sounding agitated. “There’s nothing supernatural or paranormal about me. Perhaps my parents and the doctors were right: perhaps I do suffer from paranoid delusions. I’m supposed to be taking medications for these delusions, did I tell you? Except I only pretend to swallow them. I flush them down the lavatory instead.”
I gasp. “I’m sorry! That sounds awful.”
“Perhaps I should start taking the medicines again. Perhaps that will make the ghosts go away. I don’t know… I don’t know…”
He groans and buries his head in his hands.
“Oh, Bastian! I’m sorry,” I repeat, although “sorry” sounds so lame. I try to imagine what it would have been like if Mom had checked me into the psychiatric ward at the hospital instead of believing me when I told her I was a guardian angel (sort of) with superpowers (sort of).
The thing is, Mom would never have done that. She’s the best mom ever. She’s her own special kind of guardian angel with her own special kind of superpowers.
Bastian’s parents, however…
Although I suppose most parents, even the most kind, loving, open-minded parents might have reacted the same way?
Still, my heart aches for poor Bastian. He’s obviously in a lot of emotional distress. I have to do something.
A brilliant light-bulb inspiration comes to me.
“Listen, I have an idea,” I announce.
Bastian takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. “What sort of idea?” he asks wearily.
“You’ll see. Give me a sec. Just trust me.”
I lift Minette from my lap and put her down on the settee. Then I stand up and close my eyes.
I need a light spirit to come to me—to us, to Bastian and me.
/> Reaching out my hand to an imaginary horizon, I try to visualize the invisible plane. There’s a mysterious space out there between the realms of the living and the dead. Somewhere in the middle, where the recently deceased hover. A spiritual limbo. If they stay there too long, they’ll become dark spirits forever. But if they manage to cross over, either on their own or with the help of a luiseach, they’ll become one with the eternal light. A place of peace.
There he is. I detect a distant presence, a young man who passed away just this morning. His name was Tomas, and he lived in Vancouver, Canada. He drowned in a sailing accident.
“Sunshine? Why are you… please, what’s happening?” Bastian asks, alarmed.
I shake my head quickly and put my finger to my lips.
I focus intently and attempt to connect with Tomas’s spirit.
It’s okay. Come closer. You can trust us. We’ll help you move to the other side, to a better place.
A cool breeze blows through the room.
Closer, Tomas. You’re almost there.
Another breeze, colder this time. I open my eyes and see Tomas’s spirit standing by the piano. Seaweed and saltwater drench his longish black hair. His eyes are bloodshot, bewildered, and tormented.
Bastian rises to his feet slowly, his face drained of color. “Sunshine?” he whispers. “Do you see him?”
“Yes. Do you?”
“Yes.”
“We’re going to help him cross over.”
“We?”
“Just reach out to him,” I instruct. “Connect with him. Draw him toward you.”
“I don’t understand. Connect with him how? Draw him toward me how?” he asks in a panicked voice.
“Just close your eyes and listen to your instincts. You’ll know what to do.”
“I will?”
“You will.”
“Yes, fine. I’ll try.”
Bastian coughs and clears his throat. He closes his eyes and lifts a trembling hand in the air. His lips move as though he’s silently speaking to Tomas.
The Sacrifice of Sunshine Girl Page 11