Betrayal (8 page)

“No?” I groped in the oddly warm earth up to my elbow, and suppressed a shiver. I found nothing. Damn. This is where the ghast had come from; shouldn't the dagger be here?

Simon kept scolding me, but I ignored him, too busy concentrating to explain what I was doing. I closed my eyes, opening myself to all the spirits resting fitfully in their graves. This didn't feel like the cemetery where Coby was buried; it felt fragile and dangerous, like ice that was cracking underfoot. I probed the darkness, feeling the restless ache of uneasy ghosts, searching for some sign of the earlier Emma. I'd lived her memories often enough that I'd know when she'd touched something.

I sent tendrils of energy through the playground, and felt an answering warmth. The resonance of Emma's soul.

My eyes flashed open. “It's there.”

“What is?” Lukas asked.

“You were right about the sandbox,” I told him. Good thing, too, because I hadn't brought a shovel.

I found a plastic bucket in the sand and used it to dig. After I'd made a mound of sand, I tossed the bucket aside and reached down with my hand. I groped in the damp earth until my fingers touched something hard and smooth. Felt like … bone. Ick. I suppressed a shiver and kept digging.

Finally I found it, the cold touch of metal. I got a grip and yanked, and pulled the dagger from the earth. It was a long double-edged knife with a hand-forged steel blade and unembellished hilt, except for some intricacy carved into the silver pommel.

“What is that?” Simon demanded.

“Jeez,” Lukas said. “The kids play rough around here.”

“I'll explain later,” I said, tucking it into my coat. “Let's go home.”

We shed our coats in the foyer of the museum. Celeste materialized when we came in, and Lukas compelled her to hang our stuff in the hall closet—which bugged me. It's not like she wouldn't have done it anyway, and it was presumptuous of him to come in and start ordering the ghosts around.

I frowned, but didn't say anything. If he was on the team the Knell had organized, I should try to get along with him. My goal was to catch Neos, and if a team would help with that, I'd let personality conflicts slide.

We went into the dining room, where Anatole had set out chicken sandwiches with the crusts cut off and tea in a silver urn. I laid the dagger on the long mahogany table, crossed to the massive fireplace, and downed a cup of chamomile, feeling the heat of the liquid glide through my body.

I helped myself to a second cup and a sandwich and went to stare at the dagger beside Simon.

“Why did you take this?” he asked. His glasses were slightly steamed from the heat of his tea, and he appeared older than he had at first. Probably in his late twenties. He had small gray eyes and wispy pale-colored hair, not quite blond or brown.

“Where are you from?” I asked, ignoring his question.

“Cambridge. Well, at least recently. I was born in Coventry.”

“So, England?”

“Yes, England.” To my surprise, he smiled. “I forget there's a Cambridge here.”

“And you?” I asked, turning to Lukas, where he was making Natalie giggle by the fire. He was undeniably hot, with a swimmer's build, dark hair, and slightly Asian eyes.

“Boston, born and bred.” He crossed his arms. “So you're the famous Emma Vaile.”

“She's more notorious,” Natalie said. “Even though she completely dropped the ball tonight.”

“Um,” I said, hanging my head. “Sorry?”

“What do you mean, she dropped the ball?” Lukas said. “She took down that big ugly pretty well.”

“After like ten minutes. She could hardly handle those two weenie ghasts.”

“Natalie,” Simon said. “Many ghostkeepers cannot handle a single ghast.”

“I know; I'm one of them! Why do you think I hang with Emma?” She shot me a quick grin. “You guys have barely seen her in action. That should've been a cakewalk. She's not like any other ghostkeeper. She messed up tonight, that's all. Ask her.”

I nodded. “She's right. I just—couldn't concentrate.”

“We all have off days,” Simon said. “Now, back to this knife. How did you know it was there? Why did you want it?”

“What is this?” Lukas asked. “The English Inquisition?”

“No.” Simon frowned. “It's a guardian questioning his ward about a lethal weapon.”

“Wait, are you in charge of us?” Natalie asked.

Simon set down his tea. “Sadly, yes.”

“You're only like ten years older than we are,” Lukas said.

Simon sighed. “It's not as though I wanted this job. When William phoned, I didn't precisely jump at the chance to be the guardian of three wayward teenagers.”

I turned to Natalie. “Did he just call us wayward?”

She eyed Lukas. “He clearly meant Lukas.”

Lukas shot her a cocky smile that looked like the definition of
wayward
.

“Nevertheless,” Simon continued, “I am in charge of you, and this team.” But he must've decided he wouldn't get anything further from me, because he simply said, “It's late, and you all have school tomorrow. Time for bed.”

“You should show Lukas one of the empty rooms,” I told Natalie.

“That's all right,” he said. “I already compelled the maid to get our rooms ready.”

“Well, make sure you lock your door,” Natalie said, “before you face the wrath of Emma.”

He frowned. “What did I do?”

“Compelled the house ghosts instead of politely …” Her voice faded as they stepped into the hall.

I slunk after them, but Simon stopped me. “Emma, a word.”

I sighed. So close to making my escape.

“Tell me more about the dagger,” Simon said. We both stared at it, lying innocently on the dining room table. “How did you know it was there?”

I glanced into my empty teacup to avoid Simon's gaze. “Edmund, a ghost at school, told me.” I sensed he'd see through the lie, but just because he was my guardian didn't mean I had to give up all my secrets.

“And who did it belong to?”

“It was Emma's. She was the one who lived—”

He nodded. “The Knell briefed me.”

“Well, there was a group of men who hated her. They used this to bait a trap.”

“The one you sprang tonight.” He lifted the dagger and turned it over in his hands. “Do you know what this is?”

“Um. A knife? Is that a trick question?”

“Do you know how to use it?”

I felt my right hand clench. “Try me.”

He almost smiled. “I rather think I won't. But this isn't merely a dagger.” He pushed it across the table to me. “I'm almost certain that Emma imbued this with her power.”

“But I didn't notice anything when I picked it up.”

“Try it again.”

I took the dagger by the hilt. It was well balanced, with a razor-sharp edge despite being buried for hundreds of years. Didn't feel like anything special. I shook my head at Simon, but he told me to give it more time. So I closed my eyes and probed further, accustoming myself to the weight of it in my hand and the fine dents in the silver pommel. I ran my thumb over the guard, and that's when I experienced that familiar spinning, like being on a merry-go-round, with that great whooshing sound.

When I opened my eyes, I stood in a cornfield, under a night sky filled with an impossible number of stars. My heart raced and my breath came fast. It was one of Emma's memories, but I experienced it as though it were happening to me right now.

Her heavy skirts whirled around my ankles, her white linen blouse stuck to my back with sweat. Not a great sensation, but it paled in comparison to
her
terror that
I
was experiencing. In my right hand I gripped the hilt of her dagger.

Behind me, a big bearded man stalked through the rows of corn. I saw his face in the starlight and recognized the features, even though I'd only ever seen him distorted by death and the Beyond. He was the black ghast. Only still alive.

He disappeared into the swaying corn and taunted me in a low, malicious whisper. I spun, feeling Emma's terror and her iron determination. Hunching low, I slipped toward the distant light of a farmhouse.

The man's voice grew fainter as I ran faster. Then he burst from a row in front of me, a cudgel in his hand. As the other Emma, I didn't hesitate. Instead of turning and running, as he clearly expected, I lunged at him. The dagger caught him in the stomach. I pulled my arm back and stabbed him in the chest, blind with fear and fury and loathing.

Inside her body, feeling what she felt, I wanted her to stop. But I couldn't control the memory. Couldn't stop my arm from slashing, not until I heard footsteps behind me. Another man. I fled, leaving the knife behind me, caught in the big man's chest.

The rows of corn whipped past in a blur—spinning, spinning until with a
whoosh,
the dining room reappeared around me.

And I found myself sobbing in Simon's arms on the floor.

“It's okay,” he said. “You're here, you're safe.”

“She stabbed that man. That ghast. She stabbed him over and over. And I felt like it was me, that I did it.” Tears streamed down my cheeks. “He wasn't a ghost—he was alive, and she killed him. I think—I think she lost control. What if I—”

“I'll help you with that,” Simon said. “With control.”

“I can't use the dagger.” I shivered. “Every time I touch it, I'll remember.”

“You'll learn to control that, too. To decide how much you want to remember, and when. I don't know half as much as Yoshiro, but I know enough to help. Why do you think William called me?” He nodded toward the door. “It wasn't to keep those two in line; it was to help you.”

I stared at the dagger that I'd dropped onto the floor. I was drawn to it, in a way that frightened me. And I didn't know if it was the lingering memories of Emma's, or my own desires.

Simon helped me to my feet. “You should get some sleep.” He waited until I was at the door before saying, “Oh, and Emma?”

“Yes?”

“The ghost Edmund didn't tell you about that dagger. I'd prefer if you didn't lie to me.”

I nodded briefly, went upstairs, and locked myself in my room. I stared at my homework but thought about the memory of killing the man in the cornfields.

I wasn't just seeing and talking to ghosts anymore. The wraiths at the Knell, the ghasts at the playground. It was all life and death. When had things changed? I used to argue with Bennett about dispelling ghosts, yet I was the one doing most of the killing these days. I pictured the Emma in the tapestry at the Knell. She hadn't looked afraid. She looked as though she liked slaying ghosts. And now I knew my Emma had turned into someone who could kill a man, not just a ghost. I worried that it was going to take that kind of fierce darkness to finish Neos, and that it wasn't a place I wanted to be.

8

I kept my head down during school the next day, and things seemed slightly better. Like I'd moved from a living hell to mere purgatory. Either Natalie's speech had succeeded, or I was getting major points for introducing a new cute guy to school. Anyway, there were fewer frowns and more nods than the day before. Even from some of the girls, who tended to be less forgiving than boys.

Kylee caught me just inside the front hall and offered to pair up with me for fencing. Kylee was ninety pounds soaking wet, and could barely lift her own backpack, yet still could kick my ass at fencing. She was good at following the intricate rules. I was good at killing wraiths, not executing perfect coupés.

“I noticed you and Sara are kind of …” She tilted her head, waiting for me to finish.

“Yeah,” I said, unwilling to go into details. Everyone knew Sara and Coby were best friends. How hard was it to figure out why we'd stopped talking to each other?

“Anyway,” she said, “I promise to go easy on you.”

“Thanks,” I said, heading off to Latin. I knew there was a reason I'd always been nice to her, despite the butt-kickings.

Natalie was across the room leaning on Harry's desk, seemingly flirting with him. The traitor. I went and sat next to Lukas, who sprawled at a desk that he made look miniature. He was even taller than I'd realized.

“I think I'm in love,” Lukas said.

“With who? You've only been here like ten minutes.”

“Okay, so it's lust.”

I glanced at him in alarm. “Not with Natalie.”

He sat up straighter. “What? She's hot. Though I'd have to be a fool to fall for another ghostkeeper.”

I grunted.

“Oh, sorry. Forgot about you and Bennett.”

Natalie sauntered over to join us. “Did you tell him about Bennett?” I asked.

“It's no secret, Emma,” she said. “You're like a legend in the ghostkeeping world. Word gets around.”

Great. My heartbreak the subject of Knell gossip. Just what I needed.

“What were you doing talking to Harry?” I asked.

“Intel,” she said. “Trying to figure out how to end this feud between you.”

“And?” I asked, hoping for some inspiration.

“And he smelled like booze.”

“Already?” I glanced at him and he glared back at me.

“That's not good,” Lukas said in Latin. The dead language came easily to him. He was a ghostkeeper. We bring the dead to life.

Lukas sat with me and Natalie for lunch. He swaggered in, looking edgy and sexy in his uniform. I swear I heard girls sigh as he passed their tables. Harry and Sara were conspicuously absent, which was a relief. Though I wondered if Harry was off drinking and if Sara had joined him, just like she used to down espressos with him.

I still needed to talk to them about Coby. Add that to my list of impossible things I needed to accomplish.

Lukas seemed oblivious to the effect he had as he dug into his lunch. I noticed Anatole had packed Lukas what he must've considered a “man's meal.” While Natalie and I were given fruit salad and whole-grain rolls, Lukas had a thick ham sandwich and potato chips. Then I wondered if he'd compelled Anatole to make that.

I was about to ask when he said, “Wow. Who's
she
?”

We looked up and saw Britta. She was in my Trig and Western Civ classes, and we hated each other. Though, I had to admit, she was pretty, with long tawny hair and peachy skin. She was one of those girls who's curvy yet minuscule at the same time. And no, that's not why I hated her.

Lukas smiled, and Britta flashed her fangs at him.

“You're new, right?” she cooed. “I think you're sitting at the wrong table.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm. Because mine is over
there
.” She gave him a coy look. “And I'd love to show you
everything
.”

Lukas nodded slowly, like he was considering, and I held my breath. Britta was easy and hot, and he was a guy. But he just took another bite of his sandwich. “Nah, I'm good.”

Britta's face flushed, and she turned on her heel and marched back to her table.

“Why didn't you go with her?” Natalie asked. “She's cute. Chock full of nuts, but cute.”

“We've got girls like that in Boston,” he said. “Fake as her nails.”

I hadn't been sure about Lukas, because of the whole compelling-the-house-ghosts thing, but at least he was a good judge of character. It was a relief to think I might have another friend around here.

After school, the three of us met at the gate and walked back to the museum together. Lukas amused us with stories of life at his old school in Boston, two hundred years old and packed with resident ghosts. Lukas had been the only ghostkeeper, but he couldn't summon, so he had to wait for them to appear on their own. When they did, he'd compel them to play pranks on teachers and kids who bugged him. The students and faculty had started saying the place was haunted when the Knell finally contacted him.

As we walked down the long gravel drive through the stand of maple trees, I begged Lukas not to start that game at Thatcher. I had enough problems.

“Actually,” Natalie said thoughtfully, “he won't have to wait for them. I'll summon them, then he'll compel them.”

“Natalie!”

“What? It's funny.”

The two of them spent the rest of the walk home plotting pranks, as I loftily ignored them.

When we opened the front door, Simon stood in the foyer, waiting for us.

“There is a snack waiting in the kitchen,” he said.

“I'm not hungry,” Natalie said. “I'm going for a run.”

She started up the stairs, but Simon's voice stopped her in her tracks. “Natalie, you may change your clothes, then you will join Emma and Lukas for sustenance in the kitchen.”

Sustenance? Who uses words like sustenance?

“Then you will all meet me in the ballroom,” Simon continued. “Yes, we dispelled a handful of ghasts, but next we face wraiths. And then Neos. He's killed six ghostkeepers already—I'd prefer if none of you were number seven.”

Natalie glanced at me, as though waiting for a protest.

I shrugged. “We could use the practice.”

She turned to Lukas. He said, “I could eat again.”

Natalie rolled her eyes. “I already know how to summon. What is there for me to practice?”

“Returning them,” Simon said.

“You mean dispelling them?” Lukas asked. “She can't do that; she's a summoner.”

“Dispellers send spirits to their mortal form, dead in the ground. However, summoners can learn to return ghosts they've summoned back into the Beyond.”

“What?” Natalie said. “No, we can't.”

“You can if you're taught properly.”

“Why didn't anyone ever tell me that?” Natalie asked, hand on one hip.

“Because you never met me before. It's an old art, and rarely used, as we always team a dispeller with a summoner. But it's possible.”

“Where'd you learn this stuff?” I asked.

“From Yoshiro,” he said. “And far too many dusty books. Now go change; your snack's waiting in the kitchen.”

We headed upstairs, and Natalie said, “Do you think he's all talk?”

“I don't know. Maybe it sounds believable because of his accent. We'll find out soon enough.”

I shucked my uniform and sank into gray yoga pants and a black tank top. If Simon's drills were anything like Martha's, I knew I'd be sweating, but in the meantime I tossed on a red cashmere hoodie that belonged to my mom. I hadn't taken it to the cleaners and it still smelled a little of her perfume. Maybe my mom and I didn't have the best relationship, but I still missed her. With each passing day, I began to worry that something really terrible had happened to her and my dad and Max. The longer I didn't hear from them, the more I thought I never would. They were all ghostkeepers. If they were dead, they were dead. No ghosts lingering in the Beyond.

When I met Natalie in the hall, she was dressed in her running gear. “You're not—”

She shrugged. “It's comfortable. Besides, this can't take all afternoon.”

We met Lukas in the kitchen. He'd changed into jeans and a white T-shirt and sat happily sipping soup from a little Chinese bowl.

I looked closer and saw brown rice. I peered at Anatole.
Is that … miso?

Do not even say that word! Mi-so.
His mustache bristled.
This is not soup; this is an offense against God and man.

But … where are the cakes and cookies? The berries and homemade lemonade?
There was a solarium off the kitchen, like a fancy greenhouse where Anatole grew orange and lemon trees.

Don't look to me, chéri. It is that horrible pale fellow, Simon. This was hiz doing.

But how did he ask you?

He pointed to a note, sitting on the kitchen counter. There were detailed instructions about how long to cook the rice and prepare the miso.

You can read?
I asked.

Anatole scoffed.
But of course. And in any case,
we
can oftentimes understand
you
. It iz just the living who cannot understand the dead. Unless you are a communicator, that iz to say. Then you ask the insulting questions
—
if I can read!

I'm sorry. It's just I've read in old books that servants
—

I am no servant!
His French accent was even thicker than usual, which meant I'd really upset him.
Pah
.
You are young. But have a talk with zat … horrible fellow. Hiz cooking iz not for me.

I nodded, chastised, and sipped my miso. It was surprisingly tasty.

Fifteen minutes later, we all shuffled into the ballroom, where Simon was waiting. He wore a gray tracksuit and a whistle around his neck.

“Let's begin,” he said.

“Sure, Coach,” Lukas said. “Should we run laps?”

Natalie clapped. “Yeah, we've gotta get ready for the Big Game.”

Simon blew his whistle. “Lukas, shut up. Natalie, summon a ghost from the harbor.”

“What?” she said. “I can't, that's way too far.”

“That's the first lesson—the rules are changing. Nobody has more than one ability, right? We all learned that. Except Emma has
all
the abilities. Possession is impossible, right? Not any more. Nobody's seen a wraith in centuries—but Neos is creating an army of them, right now. We're living through some big, scary changes. You don't know what's possible. You don't know the extent of your powers.”

“And you do?” Natalie asked.

“Not always,” he said. “But I know that the old rules don't apply. And I've spent enough time reading myths and legends to push you in the right direction. Close your eyes, Natalie. Concentrate. Picture the harbor. Imagine you're there, smell the air, feel the breeze. Then open yourself to the lingering spirits …”

His voice turned to an almost hypnotic drone as he murmured to her, guiding her through an unseen maze of spectral powers. He worked with her for several minutes, while Lukas and I lounged on the floor and gossiped about school.

“So, is Thatcher anything like your old school?” I asked.

“Nah.” Lukas glanced toward the ceiling, thinking about it. “I never thought I'd say this, but I sort of miss the thugs.”

“I know, right? The scariest thing about Thatcher is the uniforms.”

“What do you think you're doing?” Simon towered over us.

“Uh, waiting for Natalie to summon a ghost?” Lukas said.

“You think her lesson doesn't apply to you? That these techniques won't help you become a better compeller? She's broadening her mind, and you're chatting like magpies. She's your teammate; give her a little respect. And
you
”—he turned his full disgust on me—“I expected better. You can summon; you need to master
all
these lessons.”