Surrender (15 page)

“We're here, honey,” my father said, from the speaker.

I wanted to ask Simon about Bennett, but couldn't, not with his parents sitting there. So I just told them what happened. “Then Sara called and told me that Britta seems fine,” I finished. “She stayed with her after Lukas dropped them off.”

“Why didn't you stay, Lukas?” Simon asked. “Sara can't detect spectral activity.”

“I wouldn't let him,” Natalie said. “Have you
seen
Britta?”

Mr. Stern shot her a look. “I'm sure we can all trust each other here.”

“I trust Lukas with my life,” Natalie said. “Just not with Britta's pants.”

“Natalie!” Mrs. Stern said sharply, and Natalie had the grace to look embarrassed.

I glanced at Lukas and saw him slouch in his seat, inspecting his phone with great fascination.

“And the girl,” Simon said, ignoring them. “Britta. She has no memory of the possession?”

“I don't think so. Sara says Britta thinks
I
did something to her. We're not exactly friends,” I admitted.

“If you could overnight an item of clothing she was wearing,” my father said, “I'll read it and try to learn more.”

“How are we supposed to get her out of her clothes?” I asked.

“Not a problem,” Lukas murmured, so only Natalie and I could hear.

Natalie elbowed him, and I spoke before they had a chance to start bickering. “She doesn't remember exactly what happened, but what if she knows, on some level, that I was the target?”

“Which is why your father and I have decided you're not safe there,” my mother said. “We think you should come to New York.” She started listing all the reasons I'd be safer with them, treating me like a twelve-year-old.

To my surprise, Max came to my defense. “Mom—she's fine. They don't call her Emma F. Vaile for nothing.”

“She is not Emma
F
. Vaile; you should know your own sister's middle name,” Mom scolded.

“The ‘F' is for … Frickin'. She's Emma Frickin' Vaile, Mom. She battled Neos to a standstill
twice
, and now you rag on her?”

My parents seemed to realize their hypocrisy and settled down. I was glad Max was on my side.

Then Simon gave us a rundown of his thinking about the theory and practice of possession. “Ghosts possessing the living are dangerous to others—as Harry and Sara can attest—but also to the host. If Emma hadn't dispelled that ghost, the girl at school could've suffered lasting damage.”

“This is so the ‘Charlie's Angels' episode of
Supernatural
,” Natalie whispered to me as Simon droned on the speakerphone. Mrs. Stern gave us the eye from her chair. I tried not
to prove that I was a twelve-year-old by snickering and giggling, and instead pressed my arm against Natalie's to let her know I thought it was funny. It reminded me how much I'd missed her since she'd hooked up with Lukas.

“I still don't understand why he possessed a student at Thatcher,” Mr. Stern said. “Why not just go after Emma himself? And why does he need the ring?”

“We don't know what kind of shape he's in,” Simon said. “He could just be experimenting.”

“Experimenting?” Mrs. Stern asked. “To what end?”

“I presume he's searching for a permanent body for himself,” Simon answered.

“Ew.” Natalie made a face. “Britta crossed with Neos? Now there's a nightmare I hadn't considered.”

“Not Britta,” Simon's voice said over the speaker. “A ghostkeeper. A powerful ghostkeeper. With whom he already shares a connection.”

All eyes in the room turned toward me. I even felt my parents' and Simon's eyes boring into me through the phone.

“Maybe he's just after the ring.” I couldn't bear the thought of Neos possessing me. “He's always wanted it. He hopes it'll have the opposite effect on him, make him mortal. I don't know, maybe he thinks I'm part of that equation. But right now, we need to focus on protecting the kids at Thatcher.”

“And the teachers,” Lukas somewhat reluctantly added.

“We have to focus,” Simon corrected us, “on finding
those ashes, and understanding Neos's plan. We need to learn to anticipate him. I suspect Neos is setting the stage for another confrontation. One designed to guarantee him victory.”

A silence fell. We were stuck
responding
to Neos all the time, trapped on his chessboard like pawns. I was ready for a different game.

“I'm going to use my ring to find the ashes,” I said into the silence. “I'll search as a ghost. I can look between the walls, inside furniture. Nothing will be closed to me. I can even check the original Emma's memories for hiding spots.”

“I'm not sure that's wise,” Simon said.

“Why not?”

Mrs. Stern answered. “Maybe Neos drew your attention to the ring because he
wants
you to flit around Thatcher like a ghost.”

“Precisely,” Simon said. “Wearing the ring makes you a ghost, which might make you vulnerable to him. And why haven't you been able to sense his ashes? You're the strongest reader we have. If he's able to hide
them
from you, what else is he hiding?”

“Well, we have to do
something
,” Natalie said. “We can't rule out everything because maybe that freaking wraith-hole
wants
us to do it.”

Simon coughed—possibly covering a laugh at “freaking wraith-hole.” “That's also a good point. Perhaps Emma
should
search as a ghost … but not alone. The only other
person who can stand against Neos for longer than a handful of seconds is Bennett. God knows he doesn't sleep anyway. I'll send him to watch her back.”

Simon, my parents, and the Sterns spoke for another ten minutes, but it was basically decided. We'd keep searching for the ashes.

After we ended the conference call, I went straight up to my room to call Simon back in private. “Where is he?”

“I don't know, Emma. He … roams.”

“He's not a stray dog, Simon.”

Simon didn't say anything, but somehow he managed to not say anything really emphatically.

“What?” I demanded. “Just tell me.”

“He leaves at night and wanders the city. I honestly don't know if he sleeps anymore. He's mastered the art of seizing other ghostkeepers' power. Asarum opened that door, and he jumped through.”

“Where—who is he taking power from?” I felt sick.

“I don't know. I can't talk to him. I have to say his name three times before he hears. He stinks of power, and the Knell ghosts are terrified of him. He's burning himself out, Emma, he's—”

“Stop! Stop, Simon, please. I get it.”

More gently, he said, “I'm sorry, Emma. I don't know what kind of game you two are playing, I don't know what secrets you have. But I do know you're playing with fire.”

He wouldn't tell me what secrets he meant, and he wouldn't believe that we didn't have any. So I told him about my other problem. “Simon, I lost my dagger.”

“I know,” he said gloomily. “Max is in touch with your parents. Emma, you can do this. And we're doing everything we can to help you. But be careful.”

After we hung up, I called Bennett and left a message, then called him again and left another. Then, lying in bed hours later, I called him a third time. He didn't answer, and he didn't call back.

I wanted to spend the whole next day in bed, waiting for Bennett to call and say he'd guard me while I searched Thatcher in ghostly form. But he didn't call, and his mom—looking as stern as ever, like last night never happened—sent me off to school.

I stumbled through the day, then Harry came home with me to study for a Latin test. He followed me into the kitchen, and I didn't think twice before asking Anatole to brew Harry a pot of strong coffee while I made myself a cup of English Breakfast tea.

“Uh, Emma,” Harry said. “I don't want to alarm you, but the coffee seems to be making itself.”

I laughed. I was so used to living with ghostkeepers, I'd forgotten I had friends who couldn't even see ghosts. “That's Anatole. He's the resident French chef. You'd like him.”

“Oh, yeah?” He grinned. “Got any resident French maids?”

“Actually …”

“Tell me you're kidding! A French maid? Does she wear a little skirt and fishnet stockings?”

“She's a real maid, Harry, not a strip-o-gram.”

Anatole set a ceramic pot full of coffee and a fresh cup in front of Harry on the counter, then, with a twitch of his mustache, began to pour.

You're enjoying this, aren't you?
I said.

Mais oui
, Anatole said with a grin.
It iz not often I get to haunt
.

I tried to imagine it from Harry's perspective. “It must look so weird to you.”

Harry ran his fingers above the coffee pot as though checking for strings, and his hand passed through Anatole. “Not as weird as your monkey toes.”

I sighed and we went into the solarium. The day had been bright and blue, though it got dark at about five, so the sun was already low in the sky, but the room was still warm and full of thriving citrus trees. Anatole really did have a way with them.

We sat next to each other on the blue and white couch, and I was reminded of the last time I'd seen Bennett, how I'd fallen asleep in his lap.

We opened our Latin books and starting gossiping about Sara's “parasophomours” as Harry liked to call them—a mashup of “paramour” and “sophomore.”

“She really should just pick one of them,” Harry said.

“If she were a guy, would you be saying the same thing?” I asked. “There's always a double standard about that stuff.”

“Emma,” he said, laying a hand over his heart. “I am nothing if not a romantic.”

“Then why don't you have a girl? Or a boy?” Maybe that was why he never had a girlfriend.

“Who am I supposed to go out with? Sara's my best friend and still in love with Coby. Natalie's with Lukas. Plus she's
Natalie
; I'm too devoted to my own self to ever have enough for her.”

I giggled. It was true. A narcissist can never have a functioning relationship with another self-absorbed person. “Half the girls in school have crushes on you.”

“Or on my money,” he said. “Maybe I should go for Britta. She's more interesting since she grew horns and a tail.”

“Ugh. I couldn't bear that.”

“Then who, Emma?” He considered me. “Bennett's in New York, and he always makes you cry. You aren't really taken, are you?”

A rough voice came from the direction of the kitchen. “Yes. She's taken.”

Bennett stood in the doorway, looking pale, red-eyed, and furious. His black long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans hung on his emaciated frame. Even after talking to Simon, I still had hoped that he'd cut down on the Asarum, but instead he'd upped his dose.

“Bennett,” I said, cautiously.

“What's going on here?” he demanded.

“What does it look like?” I said, pointing to our Latin texts. “We're studying for a test.”

He casually glared at Harry. “Is that how you play it, Armitage?”

Harry didn't back down. He tilted his head and grinned. “Well, it's not my looks she's after.”

“I'm not after anything.” I jumped up and crossed the room to Bennett. “What is up with you? Harry isn't into me.”

“Yeah, I am,” Harry piped up. “Who wouldn't be? Am I right, Stern?”

“
Harry!
” I said over my shoulder. “Not helping!”

“Your boyfriend's an addict,” he said, dropping his habitual lightness. “Look at him, he's jonesing right now, out of his mind. What's he on?”

“Nothing,” I said. “A stupid Chinese herb. It only affects ghostkeepers. Gives them more power.”

Harry stepped closer to us. “You feeling strong, Bennett? Ready to beat the world?”

“Get out of my face,” Bennett snarled.

“Or what? You're going to hit me?” Harry asked. “You can fool Emma, but you can't fool me. I've been there.”

“Harry, shut up!” I said.

And I realized that's what Harry wanted. He wanted to goad Bennett into hitting him. Harry wasn't strong or athletic, but he was smart and brave. He saw that Bennett was an addict and wanted to show me what that meant.

He was trying to protect me by making Bennett beat him up.

I put my hands on Bennett's chest and shoved him away from Harry, into the kitchen. “Stop this right now,” I told him. “This isn't you.”

“I saw you. You were laughing and—”

“What—I'm not supposed to laugh when you're not here?”

“No.” He rubbed a trembling hand over his eyes. “I don't know what I'm saying. I'm so tired.”

As we stood there, I felt waves of spectral energy coming off him, building and cresting and crashing across the room. I felt the pulling gravity of his need, of his hunger for power, almost like a—almost like a wraith wanting to feed.

“Go upstairs,” I told him. “Wait for me.”

He shook his head like he was trying to shake away confusion. “Don't leave me, I can't—”

“I'll be there,” I said gently. “I'll be there in a minute.”

He pushed through the kitchen door into the hall, and I hoped that he didn't notice Anatole and Celeste flinching from him.

I went back to Harry in the solarium. “I'm sorry about that, but you shouldn't—”

“Don't trust him, Emma. Whatever you think you two have, he's got other needs now.”

“No. He's fine—he'll be fine. It's just an herb, Harry, it's not like—”

“Emma, that was hard-core and you know it.” He
repacked his Latin text and Droid in his cargo bag and slipped it across his body as he rose. “Just watch yourself, okay?”