Текст книги "Body and Soul"

Автор книги: Стэйси Кейд

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

It didn’t take the ghost from Malachi’s very long to hustle everyone out of my room and the hall, even Evan, who was still sputtering at me in incoherent fury. She just…shooed them like they were nothing more than vaguely annoying pigeons, telling them to come back tomorrow between two and four (even though I had no idea if I would actually behere tomorrow between two and four and felt pretty sure she had no way of knowing that either). Her tone brooked no argument, and her confidence left little room for doubt.

It was almost Alona-esque, actually, and kind of impressive.

Except…it might have been more impressive if I’d done it for myself. Once again, I’d needed someone else to step up and defend me, I realized with a grimace. That idea bothered me more now than it had before, especially with relying on someone other than Alona. It felt like the beginning of a pattern, and I didn’t like that.

“So, I heard you’re in need of a new spirit guide,” the ghost from Malachi’s said, turning her attention back to me, when the last ghost passed through the outside wall. She folded her arms beneath her chest, further amplifying the cleavage peeking out of the unbuttoned top of her white button-down, and gave me a too-bright smile.

“Maybe,” I said cautiously. Getting a new spirit guide would solve several of my problems, but also create a huge new one: Alona would kill me. Though we’d never discussed it, I was fairly certain she would see a new guide as both a replacement and a sign that I was giving up on getting her back in spirit form. Neither one of those things would be good.

“Great,” she said, her Miss America–pageant expression still firmly in place. “My name is Erin, and I’d like to volunteer.”

I fought not to show my surprise. She wantedto be a spirit guide? No one ever wanted to be a spirit guide. It meant giving up a certain amount of freedom and tying yourself to a ghost-talker who might or might not even be able to help you. Alona had done it only under duress. There was definitely something…odd about this girl. Aside from the whole hanging out at Malachi’s and the ability to change her appearance so drastically, which was strange enough. If I had to guess, I would have said she was probably rocking some serious power to be able to do that.

Keeping an eye on her, I moved warily away from the door. Standing against it would only allow her to pin me there, blocking my exit, if she so chose. “Why would you want to—”

“I’ve been dead for five years, and I’m aware of that fact.” She ticked facts off her fingers. “I’m familiar with how this in-between place works, people trust me, I’m very friendly, I, like, love to help people and whatever…”

Jesus, she was rattling this stuff off like it was a job interview.

“How did you change your appearance?” I asked, interrupting her while she went on about being dedicated.

“Oh, that?” Erin shrugged. “It’s not hard. Just have to concentrate.” She closed her eyes and the outline of her spring-break look shimmered into view over her current appearance for a brief moment before disappearing. “See?”

It was…impressive. Even Alona couldn’t do that. Or, if she could, she was unaware of it. Because there was no way that she would have stayed in her gym clothes for all those weeks if she’d had another option. “But what’s the point?”

“Looking professional makes the other ghosts take me more seriously,” she said, sounding as though the answer should have been obvious.

I frowned. That made no sense. “Why do you care if—”

She made an impatient noise. “I’ve got to get the information somehow, don’t I? It’s not like Malachican get it for himself.” Her smirk and the odd emphasis she placed on his name confirmed my suspicion that it was a fake.

“Wait, wait.” Confused, I held up my hand as though that would slow her words down long enough for me to process the meaning behind them. “You work for Malachi? He’s legit?” If so, he could have fooled me. In fact, he did fool Alona and me, both.

Her expression cooled. “I don’t work for anyone. He owes me, and we’ve worked out a mutually beneficial relationship. Until now.”

So Malachi was for real? My brain was spinning trying to keep up. Why would he pretend otherwise? To keep the ghosts at bay, maybe. But then why go into business as a freaking medium? Sensing that my hundred-and-one questions about Malachi would only piss Erin off, I forced myself to stay on topic. “What happened?” I asked.

She stared at me mutely.

Apparently, asking about Malachi’s fakery was not the only way to piss her off. I sighed. “All right. Fine.” No questions related to Malachi at all, apparently. But what kind of job interview was it when I couldn’t ask about her previous employer…or whatever? Not that I had any intention of “hiring” her, so to speak. Also, Alona would kill me twice if she ever heard me implying that a ghost-talker was a spirit guide’s boss.

Erin rolled her eyes and sat on the bed, giving an extra bounce on the mattress, seemingly just to hear the springs creak under her weight. Alona had done stuff like that, too, when she’d first realized my presence would give her physicality. “Look, he’s small-time. Lacks vision. He always has.”

I had absolutely no idea what that meant. Either he was a ghost-talker or he wasn’t. Except there were varying levels of ability—maybe that was what she meant. Might also explain why he needed her to get information and relay it to him, as she’d implied.

“Whenever I want to make things better for us, he’s always dragging his feet. I have to do everything. It’s pathetic.” She heaved an exasperated sigh. “But you?” She grinned up at me, again with a little bit of crazy greed in her eyes. “You’re different. I thought you were the stuff of rumor and suburban legend, the powerful ghost-talker who came out of nowhere.”

Huh. I wondered where she was getting her information. The undead rumor mill moved with frightening speed and terrifying inaccuracy. I was a little scared to think about what she’d heard.

“Imagine what we could accomplish together. All those people we could help, the good that would be done.” She shivered as if in anticipation. “It would be amazing.”

“Uh-huh.” I edged back from her. I had, believe it or not, learned my lesson about mysterious girls—both living and dead—who showed up with offers that sounded too good to be true. It hadn’t worked out very well with Mina Blackwell when she’d tried to recruit me into the Order, and I doubted this would be any different. “I need to think about it.” Which was a lie. She’d freaked me out plenty in less than ten minutes. She was way too eager and interested in something most other ghosts saw as a form of punishment. Something was not right. Any kind of a more permanent arrangement was definitely off the table.

Erin pouted, cocking her head to one side. “What is there to think about? Are you still hung up on your old spirit guide, the one who left you high and dry?” She eased up from the bed, swaying into my personal space. “She’s gone for good, I promise you that.” She tapped a finger against my chest, seeming all too pleased with herself. “And I can be very comforting.”

Holy crap.“Uh…” I scooted away from her, my brain still processing her words. “What do you mean, she’s gone for good? How do you know?” I knew the others thought that, but Erin spoke with such confidence it sent alarm bells ringing in my head.

She backed off a step, looking cagey. “Let’s just say I have my ways.”

“Like?” I persisted.

She drew back, her mouth pinched in anger. “You know, if you can’t appreciate what I’m offering, I’ll just talk to the other one, then.” She spun on her heel and started walking away.

“The other one what?” I asked warily.

“The girl you were with this morning, the one who was talking to the crying chick,” she said over her shoulder with some exasperation, as if I should have known. “She’s a ghost-talker, too, isn’t she?”

“Leave her out of this,” I said immediately, before I had time to realize exactly how panicky and paranoid that sounded. Smooth, I heard Alona say in my head.

Erin turned to face me, eager interest written all over her face. “Something’s different about her, isn’t it? I could see it.” She raised an eyebrow. “Maybe shewould be open to some help.”

“No, you offered it to me first. And I said I’d think about it, okay?” I didn’t want her anywhere near Alona. Whoever (or whatever) Erin was, she was powerful and up to something, and Alona was too vulnerable in her current state.

“You know,” she said with a tight smile, “I don’t actually need your permission.”

Uh-oh.I’d been kind of hoping she wasn’t aware of that fact. “Wait, let’s just—”

She shut her eyes and said in a loud dramatic voice, “I claim you as my ghost-talker.”

Panic lit up my insides. “Stop!” I started toward her, not sure what I could do short of tackling her.

“I am yours and you are mine.” She finished in a hurry before I could reach her.

I winced, waiting for a cold blast of air and the supernatural-feeling shift in the atmosphere, the sense of two pieces fitting together. That’s what had happened when Alona had claimed me.

But…there was nothing.

Huh.

She cracked one eye open to look at me. “I am yours and you are mine,” she repeated slowly.

Still nothing. I started to smile.

She opened both eyes and made a frustrated noise. “What the hell?”

“Maybe it knows that tying yourself to someone who doesn’t want you around and can summon you up on a whim is a bad idea,” I said, giddy with relief. I had no idea what “it” was, other than some kind of otherworldly force that seemed to control these things, and I certainly had no way of knowing if it had any kind of opinion on the matches it made. But something had kept the connection from going through.…

Erin folded her arms across her chest. “Are you threatening me?”

Yes.“No. Just making sure we understand each other,” I said.

She narrowed her eyes. “It’s not like it worked, so you don’t have anything to worry about from me.” She turned away and stalked toward the opposite wall to leave.

I resisted the urge to call after her and ask if she was going to try to track down Alona/Lily, but I’d already done enough damage in that area. Asking now would only make her more likely to do so. Plus, what were the odds that she’d be able to track Alona down?

“You know, you seem to be in a big hurry to help people ‘and whatever,’” I said instead. Not that I was complaining; just really, really suspicious.

She paused halfway through the wall and gave me an over-the-top phony smile. “What can I say? I’m a people person.” Then she vanished.

A people person? Yeah, right.

I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening trying to find anything on Malachi or an Erin who’d died five years ago. She was a loose cannon that I’d rather not have rolling up behind me, catching me unawares.

But I didn’t have any last names, and at least one of the names was fake (Malachi), which didn’t really help in the information-gathering process.

I found Malachi’s Web site again, but it held no new information. The only thing strange I noticed this time around was in the testimonial section. First, that he even had a testimonial section implied that he’d been able to help people, all evidence to the contrary today. Erin certainly seemed to believe he was for real, though, and while she might have been slightly off her rocker, she wasn’t completely crazy. But beyond that, four out of the ten blurbs mentioned receiving a letter from Malachi and a coupon for the initial consultation right when they needed it most. The recipients seemed to take this as a “sign” they should contact him for help with their otherworldly problems.

More like a sign that Malachi had somehow gotten his hands on a mailing list targeted to the vulnerable, like from a cemetery or funeral home, or that he spent his free time scouring obituaries. People who’d recently experienced the death of someone close to them were probably far more likely to buy into what Malachi was selling. What a user.

After a few more fruitless “Malachi” searches—nothing but Bible mentions—I resorted to searching Facebook, thinking I might be able to pick Erin out of the crowd of Erins in Decatur, Illinois, with a photo. But either she hadn’t been on there when she was alive, or her page had been memorialized, which apparently would block it from outside searches.

Great.

Before I could log out, the chat box in the corner popped up with the sound of a suction cup being removed. It flummoxed me for a second. I wasn’t on here all that often, and most of my friends weren’t the chatting type. Then I saw the name and it made sense…sort of.

Lily Turner:Oh, good, you’re here. I can’t figure out her freaking e-mail password.

Oh, Lord.

Will Killian:What are you doing?

Lily Turner:What? No cell, no privacy on house phone, and I don’t have your e-mail. How else was I supposed to reach you? Smoke signals?

This was surreal. It was one thing to have Alona talking tome through Lily in the same room. I could hear the different cadences, see her body language and her expressions, all of which helped make it clear she was Alona, not Lily. But this…this was eerie.

Will Killian:How did you log in?

Lily Turner:Duh. She told her browser to remember her log-in info. Very sloppy, but useful for me.

Will Killian:I’m sure.

Lily Turner:You think I should have logged in under my own name? Like that wouldn’t have caused a stir.

I imagined, for a second, the reaction of however many friends Alona had when they saw her status button go green, and I was grateful suddenly that she’d had the forethought—and wisdom—not to do that. Actually, I couldn’t believe she hadn’tdone that. It must have taken everything she had to resist the temptation.

Lily Turner:Also, you have only seven friends? That’s kind of pathetic.

Will Killian:I don’t measure friendship in kilobytes.

Lily Turner:Yeah, you know who says that? People who have only seven friends.

She sounded alarmingly chipper. More like herself, in a way that I hadn’t heard from her since before the whole Lily debacle had started.

Will Killian:Whatever. Is there a point to this?

Lily Turner:Yes, you can meet me tomorrow at Misty’s house. Noon. I don’t need a ride.

Will Killian:You don’t? Why?

Even I heard the suspicion in those words.

Lily Turner:Don’t worry about it. All part of the plan.

Will Killian:I don’t think scarier words have ever been spoken.

She didn’t respond right away, and I thought she might have logged off or walked away.

Lily Turner:Have you seen my page?

It took me a second to figure out what she meant, and then I still wasn’t sure which “my” she meant.

Will Killian:You mean your Alona page?

Lily Turner:What else?

Of course.

Will Killian:No. Only seven friends, remember?

Will Killian:Wait. How can YOU see it w/out logging on?

Lily Turner:Apparently, Lily sent me a friend request at some point. I must have accepted it.

Probably when Lily had been dating Ben Rogers. That would have been the only time, knowing Lily, that she would have felt confident enough to approach the great and almighty Alona Dare and for her to even have a chance of Alona accepting, not that it had made much of an impression on Alona, obviously.

Will Killian:You don’t even know who your friends are?

Lily Turner:That’s not the point!

Will Killian:What is, then?

Lily Turner:Never mind. Forget it.

Will Killian:Alona…

Lily Turner:It’s a ghost town, ok?

Lily Turner:There’s a bunch of stuff after the funeral, people I didn’t know talking about me in the 3rd person, creeeepy…

Lily Turner:And then a whole slew of mean stuff.

I grimaced, not surprised.

Lily Turner:And then nothing.

Well, that at least explained why she hadn’t logged on as Alona Dare.

Will Killian:I’m sorry.

Lily Turner:Whatever. It’s fine. Should have expected it.

I sat there for a long moment, not sure what to type in response. The Alona I’d first talked to a few months ago would have been devastated, shocked, unable to believe that others would speak poorly of her and then abandon her. This Alona, though…She was different.

Will Killian:Want a few of my seven?

Lily Turner:*snort* No. You need all you have.

That was more like it.

Lily Turner:But thanks.

Lily Turner:And don’t forget. Don’t pick me up. Meet me there. 643 Fairmont.

She logged off before I could respond, and that overwhelming sense of trouble on the horizon suddenly returned. No matter what else happened, how much she changed, Alona was a schemer. She planned and manipulated until the world fell into order, or as close as she could manage it. Why did I think tomorrow was not going to bea good day?

I was bleary-eyed, cranky, and generally not my best when I went to meet Alona at Misty’s at noon.

It had taken me forever to fall asleep the night before. It might have been all the Mountain Dew I had drunk to keep me awake for a few more completely useless Internet searches, or worrying that Erin was going to suddenly show up again, or hoping my mom’s life wasn’t wrecked because of me. But then again, it also could have been that, right as I dozed off, two dead middle-aged brothers—Tim and Bob? Jim and Bill? It was never clear, as they were too busy shouting—strode through the wall into my room, still arguing and wanting me to take sides.

From what I’d gathered, they’d inherited a piece of land from a grandfather, and each had different ideas about what should be done with it. And they’d killed each other over it…about forty years ago.

That alone might not have been enough to do more than piss me off, except they both still had the shotguns they’d used against each other. You die with it, it’s yours even in the afterlife. Would those work against me? No idea. Didn’t particularly want to find out, especially at two in the morning. Well, really, at any time, but in the middle of the night, ghosts with guns take on a certain amount of creepy intensity. It was almost enough to tempt me into finding Erin and having her try again.

I’d tried pointing out to the brothers that they were dead, so it didn’t matter anymore. However, it was the principle of the thing, apparently.

I’d only gotten rid of them—after more than an hour of trying to get them to shut up and listen—by saying that they should have split the land in half evenly. Not that they thought this was a reasonable solution. Dividing it up made it far less valuable, I guess. But my utter stupidity, proven to them by the fact that I’d bothered making this suggestion, gave them something to agree on for the first time in years. I love it when I can help families come together.

I’d finally dozed off after they left…and promptly overslept. So now I was running late to Misty’s, on top of everything else, which didn’t help my mood, either.

The neighborhood was between mine and Alona’s, in location and wealth. Misty’s house—which I missed the first time down the street because they had all these huge hanging flowerpots covering up the number on the porch—was a rambling multilevel house. It had a three-car garage with one of those big turnarounds for the cars. I recognized Misty’s Jeep in the driveway on my second pass and pulled to the curb across the street to park.

There was no sign of Alona, of course. If she’d gone in without me, I was not going to be happy. Correction: I was already not happy. If she’d left me out here to ring the doorbell at Misty Evans’s house, which was not exactly my home turf, on my own, I was going to be pissed.

Gritting my teeth, I started toward the driveway, already trying to think of what I would say when someone answered the door. Misty’s house wasn’t as ritzy as Alona’s, but I didn’t fit in here any better than I did over there. It wasn’t that I particularly cared what Misty or her family thought about me, but I didn’t feel like defending myself against potential stalker accusations if Alona hadn’t bothered to explain that I was coming along. Plus, it was a giant waste of time. I was almost positive Misty wasn’t being haunted; not in the traditional sense, anyway.

About ten feet up the driveway, I caught movement from the corner of my eye. I turned, half expecting Misty’s angry dad or an unwelcome ghostly tagalong. But it wasn’t either of those; it was a girl, who’d obviously been waiting on the edge of the lawn, her presence hidden by the overgrown shrubs on the side of the drive (someone in the Evans family loved plants, evidently).

She smiled almost shyly, tipping her head down so her blond-streaked hair would fall forward over her face. It took me a second to put the pieces together. Not because I didn’t recognize her. That would be dumb. It was more like my brain refused to make the connection between this girl and all the data and images previously stored in the “Lily” file in my brain.

“You’re late,” she said, edging closer, the limp on her left side pretty much the only familiar thing about her.

I couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. The words wouldn’t come, fighting against each other and the shock. Of all the things I’d thought Alona might be planning—and trust me, I ruled out very little when it came to her ambitions– thishadn’t even made the list.

It was Lily…but not. Her hair was blonder and shorter, barely reaching the base of her neck, and it was ragged on the ends but in that way you could tell it was supposed to be. She was wearing makeup—sparkly stuff on her eyes and something that made her scar much less noticeable—and clothes I’d never seen before. Tight dark jeans that stopped at her ankles, and a loose-fitting shirt in a shade between pink and red that brought color into her face. It also had a V in front that dipped low enough to reveal something white and lacey underneath, which made me feel like I should look away. I felt heat rise in my face.

“You like?” she asked, as though asking my opinion on an ice-cream flavor. “It was harder than I thought.” She looked down at herself with a frown, toying with the long, beaded necklace that hung down almost to her waist. “My old look doesn’t work for her. She’s more funky-free, you know? And then there was working with that stupid budget.” She rolled her eyes.

Slowly but surely, the surprise was wearing off, and I could feel my words returning to me. None of them were good. My God, who did she think she was? She hadn’t just crossed the line; she had completely obliterated it. Blood was roaring in my ears.

“We still need to do something about some more color,” Alona continued, seemingly unconcerned with my silence. “I used a little self-tanner. Not the craptastic turn-you-orange stuff, of course. But that’s not enough. It’s still August, so maybe—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” The words burst out of me. So, yeah. Not exactly my best opening argument, but you’ve got to go with what you’ve got.

She stopped, her mouth partially open, but Alona being Alona, she rallied quickly. “Excuse me?” she demanded, narrowing her eyes at me. She managed, somehow, to jam more indignation into those two words than other people would have with a whole speech. It should have been a warning tome, but I was already too far gone.

I grabbed her elbow and tugged her down the driveway, where we would be less noticeable from the house. I couldn’t help noticing she smelled good, like oranges and flowers, and her skin was smooth and soft beneath my hand. These changes in her…No, I did not like this. “Lily is not some doll you can play dress up with when you’re bored,” I hissed. “She’s a real person—”

She threw her head back with a harsh laugh. “Believe me, I’m all too aware of what you think of Lily.” She turned on me and jabbed a finger in my chest. “What you’re forgetting is that, for all intents and purposes, I am Lily right now. If I want to cut myhair or buy more flattering clothes for mybody, then Ican do that.”

I gaped at her.

She smirked. “Remember yesterday? ‘Be grateful for this chance, take advantage of life, Lily’s body is just fine with me’?” She smoothed her hands down her sides, a deliberately seductive motion, and I had to look away. “I decided you were right.” The challenge in her tone was unmistakable.

I felt punched. “So this is some kind of revenge or something?” I asked numbly. “Because I wanted you to treat her with respect?”

Hurt flickered across her face for the first time. “Not everything is about you,” she said, but her words lacked the force of a few moments before.

“She doesn’t even look like Lily anymore,” I said, the break in my voice taking me by surprise. Was it really a bad thing if she didn’t look like Lily anymore? She wasn’tLily.

But what Alona had done wasn’t right, either.

I turned away from her, focusing my attention on a point across the yard until I could get myself under control. My emotions were ricocheting all over the place. I couldn’t land on any one of them for more than a second.

“No, she doesn’t,” Alona said. “She looks better. Ilook better.”

I glared at her over my shoulder.

“No.” She shook her head fiercely. “You don’t get to argue with me about this. You know damned well that if she was here and I was alive, this makeover would have made her day, probably even her year.”

I rubbed my forehead and felt the start of a new headache. “You are impossibly full of yourself.”

She threw her hands up. “What do you want from me? No matter what happens, no matter what we do, the girl you knew, she is gone, okay? Even if we could figure out a way to drag her out of the light—”

I winced.

“Which, trust me, would be about as much fun as it sounds—she wouldn’t be the same person you knew.” She shook her head, her new haircut framing her face until she tucked the strands back behind her ear. “You can’t preserve her as some kind of walking, talking museum exhibit. It’s not fair. To any of us.”

“So thisis your solution?” I said, gesturing at her new appearance. Even I could hear that the disgust in my voice was too much, too over the top, but I couldn’t stop.

Alona flinched but then looked up, a defensive cant to her chin. “Yeah, it is. And you know why that matters? Because for whatever reason and for however long, I am still here.” She stepped closer, staring me down, her dark eyes filled with fury and hurt. “Whether you like it or not, the light sent meback, not her.”

Her words struck like a slap, and I stepped back involuntarily.

“Is everything okay out here?” a female voice called from the house.

Startled, I looked up to see Misty on the front porch, wearing pajama bottoms and an oversized T-shirt with an image of a megaphone on it.

She frowned at us. “What are you guys doing here?”

Next to me, Alona forced a smile and waved. “We just wanted to check in with you after yesterday.”

Misty nodded warily and then tipped her head back toward the door. “Come on in.”

Pointedly avoiding even a glance in my direction, Alona started up the driveway.

I followed. “Just because the light sent you back doesn’t mean you’ve got a free pass to do whatever you want,” I said under my breath.

She ignored me and kept walking.

I should have just shut up. Some small part of me knew that. I was tired, overwhelmed, and more than a little freaked out. It was one thing for her to try to change Lily; I didn’t have to like that. But what was really bothering me was that I did. Lily had always been my friend. But justa friend, not anything more. And watching her walk up the drive a few steps ahead of me, I realized my problem wasn’t simply that Alona had changed the way Lily looked; it was that I liked the way she looked now more. She looked like Lily’s distant, more confident, more attractive cousin.

I felt like a complete shit for thinking that, disloyal to the core; and irrationally, I wanted to punish Alona for it, find some way of making her feel as bad as I did. Which was a stupid, stupid idea, but as unstoppable as a speeding car with burned-out brakes.

“You know, you can’t just use Lily to walk back into your old life. Haven’t you learned anything?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wished I could call them back.

She stopped, her shoulders stiff. Then she turned to face me with that haughty expression I recognized all too well. But what was eerie was how well it fit on this new face. This new version who was both Alona and Lily. A true Ally.

“Bye, Will,” she said with a coolness that reached into my insides. “Let me know if you buck the trend today and find out something that’s actually useful.”

Then she walked away.