Two Halves Series (54 page)

Screaming like a little girl, Chris ran and didn’t look back. For the first time since assuming my ghostly form, I felt good about it.

I hurried back to the store and found Kirsten humming under her breath as she wiped the coffee off the floor. The cat approached and rubbed against her arm. “Thanks, Snow.” She scratched behind the cat’s ear. He purred.

Wanting to touch her to let her know she wasn’t alone, I placed my on her shoulder. Perhaps she’d sense me. Kirsten turned toward the window and looked through me. I listened to her heartbeat.
Calm. She’ll be all right
.
Now, one more person to take care of.

As I drifted away from Kirsten, she placed Snow on the front counter and began checking the day’s orders.

Care to join me at The Grill?
I heard in my head while floating back toward my house.

Eric?

Were you expecting someone else?

I’m coming!
My ghost whipped around and flew across town. Not wanting to travel by the streets, I let Eric’s presence carry me through buildings, trees, and people, so quickly everything blurred. In seconds, I was sitting at the table with my evil-bender at The Grill, the town’s main restaurant.

“What are you doing here? Did you see the kids? Are they all right?” I asked as my gaze travelled around the empty restaurant. The breakfast crowd had left, and I’d just flown through Mike, the owner, who was preparing for lunch with his staff in the back.

Eric sat at a table set for two. He pulled out a piece of bacon from his sandwich and stuffed it into his mouth.

“Everything is fine at the cabin. You need to calm down, though. You’re vibrating too much.” He spoke low enough not to draw attention from the kitchen.

“Okay.” I tried to breathe slowly to ease my excitement, the way I did when in the flesh. Even though I did not need to inhale, the exercise helped. “Why are you here?” I finally asked in a composed voice.

“I had some business to take care of.”

“Watcher business?”

“Bender business. Just keeping my eye on the evil that lurks.” Eric widened his eyes, then laughed, but part of me knew he wasn’t joking. He was hiding something, and he wouldn’t share the secret with me.

“You don’t feel odd eating by yourself?”

“Years of practice.” He winked as he took another bite of his BLT. “And you’re here.” A piece of lettuce fell out of his mouth. Eric packed it back into his chipmunk cheeks as he chewed.

“I miss that,” I said.

“Eating?”

“Eating, touching, feeling.”

“You still feel, just differently.” Eric cleared his mouth in one enormous swallow and wiped his lips with a napkin. It seemed he didn’t bother to swallow in smaller bites. “Now, tell me—” he sipped on his water “—why would you do something so stupid?” He pointed to my ghostly form.

“Did you talk to my mom?” I leaned in.

“Yeah, yeah. She explained.” Eric sat back in his chair.

“And you still think I’m stupid.”

“Brave.” He placed his hands on the table, tapping his fingers.

My eyebrows rose. “What?”

“You’re brave. I don’t know many humans who’d sacrifice their life the way you seem to do, way too often. It complicates things for me.”

“How?” I cocked my head to the side. The clattering of dishes in the kitchen echoed through the restaurant, but I kept my focus on my evil-bender.

“It’s—”

“Please don’t say complicated.” I rolled my eyes.

“It makes my job a bit more difficult, but that’s the way it usually is with watchers. Your sacrifice means I’ll have to make one as well. I’m bound to you.”

“I don’t really grasp the binding thing yet, but you do that anyway, all the time. Especially for me.” With hesitation I placed my see-through hands on top of his.

“It’s my job, Sarah, it’s who I am. I’m not as virtuous as you think.”

“Watching me is more than a job for you, Eric. You know it. I don’t deserve to have a watcher, and you’ve always protected me. You’ve given me everything others have failed to give.” I moved my fingers as if I were embracing his hands between my own.

“What’s that?”

“Love, respect, trust.”

“Because I’m a watcher.”

“Because you’re you.”

He dropped his shoulders. “You know, we may not be able to get your body back.”

I quelled anxiety. “I can’t think about that.”

“Good. Think positive. Save your essence.” His gaze flew toward the window. “Meet me at the hill tomorrow at sunrise. I’ll try to be alone, but if I’m not, don’t show yourself.”

“Mira?” I asked, pulling back my hands.

“Sugar just likes my sugar in the morning.” The lustful smirk on his face made me think of William who had the same one last night, before I gave my body away.

“You’re all alike.” I melodramatically dropped my head into my hands.

“Hey, I’d rather be a lover than a fighter, but that hasn’t worked out too well for me until recently.” The evil bender stood, squaring his shoulders in a business-like manner. “I’ll see you there?”

I nodded.

Eric left money on the table and went to the bathroom.
Don’t wait for me to come out,
he said in my mind.

A moment later, I heard the wind blow behind the closed door. The trailing of a purple mist escaped through underneath the door, and I imagined it smelled of lilac and lavender.

Great, alone until tomorrow and it’s only noon.
I eyed the clock over the bar. The cat’s tail swung off each second. What seemed worse for me was that, as a ghost, I had no sense of time, nor did it matter. If I closed my eyes, hours could pass in a second. If they remained open, the seconds could become hours.

Soon after Eric left, Pinedale whirled in front of my eyes, and I found my ghost floating away from my home town, all on its own. My senses recognized the direction; I was being undeniably pulled toward Huntsville—my spirit wanted me to go to the prison. I concentrated on the warden until I was zooming through the intervening cities and trees, mountains, and valleys, faster by the second. If the warden returned to the prison, he wouldn’t make it back for another three hours—that is, if he’d left Pinedale right away. Travelling as a ghost was similar to flying through time in a vortex, minus the nausea.

In the city, raindrops the size of beans splattered on impact. Though I didn’t get wet, the storm made the prison look spookier than usual. In the tower, the warden’s office was dark. I drifted higher toward his window; the shut drapes blackened the window, and the lights in the room beyond were also off.
Good.
But before I had a chance to enter and search the office, I glimpsed someone wobbling toward the main entrance so quickly that his mud-covered shoes splashed through puddles, splaying water to the sides. The cuffs of his pants had been soaked from dragging through the water that streamed along the walkway.

I hovered lower.
Can’t be
.

The oversized steel door of the prison entrance opened before the warden touched the handle. He walked toward the main door, and lamps on each side of the path lit before he passed them, then dimmed to their usual brightness.

Who are you?

Instead of going to his office, the warden strolled through the hall that connected the execution quarters to the guards’ desk, mumbling under his breath, leaving a trail of rain water on the concrete floor. I followed above him, trying to eavesdrop, but he seemed to be mumbling in a different language. Every so often I’d catch a word—“brother,” “betray,”—but as the storm got louder, it became difficult to hear and understand the muttered words.

My ghost vibrated, wanting to leave on its own.
Why was I pulled here then?

Thunder sounded outside, but I preferred to face the storm which seemed safer than this facility. The prison held murderers, rapists, and terrorists. It was the harshest in the country, and as much as I despised being inside, the prisoners did not seem as harsh as this man.

The warden stopped. He looked toward the end of the hall, his gaze skimming the ceiling, then, eyes still upward, he turned and examined the corridor behind me, then the other end of the hall. “Who’s here?” he said calmly, searching with his gaze for something I couldn’t see.

I checked to see if anyone else had entered, but no one had, neither corporeal nor ghost.

“Those vampires are trouble. It’s not wise to sign the papers with them,” he grumbled. “Don’t think it’s wise.”

What?
Why?

Supporting his weight on a cane, he shuffled up the stairs to his office. I wanted to follow, but something told me not to. Today wasn’t the right time to deal with the warden, especially as a ghost.

Not wanting to spend the approaching night at the prison or in the pouring rain, I thought about Mrs. G and the hill and allowed my ghost to float north. When the storms passed, I stretched my arms out, drifting through the forest and the glowing sunset. I imagined the last heat of the day encasing me as I arrived in Yellowstone National Park.

Chapter 7

I waited outside the hill through the night, watching nocturnal creatures as if they were still my prey. Most mammals were oblivious to my presence and continued their routine, with the exception of a mountain cat. He stared at the spot where I sat, sniffing, then turned on its hind legs and darted into the darkness. Time blended; I couldn’t gauge whether an hour had passed, or a minute. If it weren’t for the nearing day, I wouldn’t know when night time turned into daytime.

Eric left Mrs. G’s house just before sunrise, when the orange glow lightened the trees from the bottom. As a daily ritual, he followed Mira through the forest in a vortex, helping her search the perimeter for seekers. Mornings at Mrs. G’s, afternoons in the Amazon—every day for the past four years, they’d secured our homes. I followed them for fifteen minutes before daring to come closer than the treetops.

I know you’re here,
Eric said in my mind.

How?

When are you going to understand the meaning of me being your evil-bender?

My evil-bender,
I repeated. The voice of my ghost sounded dreamier than my normal voice.

I’m not yours that way. But if you want to think about it that way, fine. Sugar will be a little jealous . . .

Stop it! You men all think alike.

What do you expect? We’re men! Thoughts are the only thing we get to keep to ourselves. Well, usually. You stole internal peace when you gave your body to the witch.

I got serious.
Eric, the warden from the prison is hiding something. I don’t think—

You stay away from him,
he warned.

Why?

Don’t you have other things to worry about?

Yes,
I answered,
but when I have my body back, I’ll need to confront him.

Prioritize, Sarah, prioritize.

Have you told Mira about me?
I asked.

No, and you’d better keep yourself hidden until I’m alone.

Mira stepped in front of Eric. “You’re distracted.”

I sighed, missing my witty friend.

“Just doing my job, sugar.” He grinned.

“Which job?” Mira placed her hands on her hips and pouted. “You’re hiding something from me.”

See what I mean? Good luck keeping a secret from her.
I laughed.

“Nothing can get by you, can it, sugar.” Eric lifted her chin with his fingers and skimmed her lips with his.

“Nope. I’ve worked with you and the ghosts before. What’s the big deal?” She peeked behind Eric, as if trying to see who he was talking to.

“This one’s a bit difficult. She doesn’t know what’s good for her and makes stupid mistakes that could cost her life.”

I do not!
I screamed into his ear. Eric grimaced.

“Sounds like someone interesting,” Mira scanned the forest.

Ha! I’m interesting.

“Someone who thinks she has nine lives.”

Take it back or I’ll show myself,
I teased.

Stay back, Sarah,
Eric warned.

Take it back,
I whispered into his other ear, flowing my ghost through him.

Stop that!
He wiggled his body like he could feel me.

You don’t like it?
I passed through Eric again.

“Eric, why are you wincing?” Mira asked.

You show yourself, and you’re running the chance Xander will find out the truth. He knows Mira better than anyone,
Eric warned.

Then you’ll just have to keep your sugar busy so Xander doesn’t suspect.
I let my ghost appear.

“What the hell!” Mira jumped back.

“Ta-da!” I swept my arms to the side as if I’d just finished a dance rehearsal and twirled.

“I guess this would be a good time to explain that your best friend switched souls again.” Eric pushed Mira’s chin up to close her gaping mouth.

The sun rose higher. I missed its warmth and the earthy smell of the moss in this forest. The morning fog had almost disappeared, the crisp night air strangling each warm breath.

“Sarah? Why?” She tried poking her finger against my arm.

“I’ll tell you on the way.”

“Where exactly are we going?” Eric crossed his arms.

“You need to take me somewhere where I can safely see my mother.” I flowed through him, just for fun.

“Stop that.” He brushed me off as if I were dust.

“I like this Sarah.” Mira laughed. “It’s like you were born again!”

Eric didn’t agree. Scowling, he twirled his finger to open a vortex. Waves of heat flew toward us, and I didn’t have to feel them to know where we were going as the orange swirls pulled us to the underworld.

* * *

Eric was the first to step out of the vortex. “This is Xela’s old lair.”

We stood in a cave identical to the one Xander had forbidden me to visit. I recognized Mira’s wiggling nose as her effort to find a pocket of fresh air she could stick it in; the air must be stale. A fire burned in the hearth on the side wall. The waves of heat floated languidly toward the root-webbed ceiling; even if I couldn’t feel the warmth, my memory of the underworld’s caves was clear. The intensity reminded me of Aseret’s grand hall.