Deception (26 page)

This is ze one,
Celeste said.

She carried the dress to the window so we could examine it in the light. A satin gown, formal without being fussy, and the color reminded me of, well … ghosts. In the shadows the fabric looked gray, but in the light a shimmer of blue appeared.

I love it,
I said.

Celeste held it against my skin.
Perfect,
she said.
Try it on.

I took off my jeans and T-shirt and stood before her.

No brassiere,
she said.

I hoped Bennett didn’t show up. I kept my back to Celeste as she slipped the dress over my shoulders, and I shivered as the satin touched my skin. The neckline was high and the back open to the waist, and the skirt grazed the floor. For once, I guess it was good I didn’t really need a bra.

As I smoothed the skirt, there was a slight
whoosh
as I flashed on memories from Bennett’s great-great-grandmother. But they didn’t overwhelm me. They were like snapshots of her dancing and dining in this dress. She had been happy.

I turned and found Celeste with a finger pressed to her mouth, gazing thoughtfully at me.

What? That bad?
The fabric felt exquisite and the color for some reason satisfied me. Like even though I could only admit it to a few, I was letting the world know what I saw.

Turn,
Celeste said briskly.

I turned. There was no mirror, so I was relying on her judgment.

Again,
she said.
Oui
.
Very good. Take it off.

I slipped from the gown and she sailed from the attic before I finished dressing, trailing satin behind her.

Celeste?
I called after her.

I will find you in your room, mademoiselle, late afternoon
.
You will have showered.

Great, now I was getting hygiene advice from a nineteenth-century French ghost. But I just said,
Right. See you then.

I spent the afternoon with Anatole in the kitchen, first listening to his philosophy on cheese soufflé, then watching him make gingerbread dough, which Nicholas and I rolled out, cut into little men, baked, and decorated. In a fit of panic over Bennett and Coby, I bit the heads off a couple.

At four, fresh from the shower, I slipped the original Emma’s gold band onto my now-empty chain from my mother, then found Celeste in my bedroom. She’d set up a dressing table with a mirror, and motioned for me to sit.

First ze makeup,
she said, gesturing to the MAC and Chanel spread before her.

Is this Bennett’s mom’s makeup?
I asked.

Oui
.
Your own supply is …
pfft.

Thinking of my lip balm and mascara, I couldn’t really argue. She faced me away from the mirror so I couldn’t see what she was doing and promised to keep it simple.

Hair,
she said, when she’d finished powder-puffing my face.

If I’d had my watch, I would’ve been checking the time obsessively. First, Coby was picking me up for a pre-Homecoming cocktail party at Harry’s, then the game started at 7:00. I was looking forward to cheering in the tiers while wearing my gown, an ancient Thatcher tradition, then we’d head to the catered ball at the Echo Point Country Club after the game. These private schoolers really knew how to do it up. At my old school we shuffled to a DJ in the school gym. We were lucky if we got streamers.

I twitched in my seat as Celeste fiddled with my hair. Whatever she was doing involved a surplus of pins and braids. What was I going to do if she made me look like some nineteenth-century lass missing her bustle? And how exactly would I tell her? She might be dead, but she still had feelings.

Celeste made a small hum and smiled.
Finis. But do not look. Let us put the dress on you first.

When she took the dress from the wardrobe, I almost didn’t recognize it. The stormy blue color I loved was the same, but she’d lowered the neckline, nipped in the waist, and trimmed the arms so they revealed more shoulder. As I slipped into the dress and my new black satin peep-toes, I wondered how I’d explain to Bennett’s family what I’d done to their heirloom. Then I forgot all about it as Celeste turned me toward the mirror. The effect was magical.

Boysenberry lipstick, heavy mascara, and the faintest of blush. The dress was perfectly suited to my figure. You couldn’t even tell that I’d eaten half a soufflé and maimed a bunch of gingerbread men. She’d transformed my blond strands into something totally current to go with the retro dress.

I turned to hug her, then remembered she’d burn my skin, which wouldn’t really help my look.
Thank you, thank you! Now I won’t feel like the Wal-Mart special at Barneys.

I have no idea what that means, but I’m glad you are happy.

I’m not just happy, I’m thrilled.
I gave a little spin. I wished my mother could see me.
I wish Martha was here.

Oui
.
She would say you are a beautiful angel.

She’d tell me all about her own school dances. I bet she
—
I stopped, hearing footsteps downstairs in the front hall.
He’s early!

I galloped to the top of the grand stairway, then remembered the gown and slowed. Halfway down, I saw
him
. Bennett. Watching me, one hand on the banister
—
simply standing there, as I walked down the stairs, my gown trailing after me. I paused and met his gaze. Neither of us smiled, neither of us spoke. Then I descended to where he waited, and he took my hand. I thought he was going to kiss the back of it.

Instead, his eyes never leaving mine, he kissed my palm.

Heat rose in my face. I’d never felt anything so intimate, and for a moment I didn’t care about anything
—
nothing but standing here right now with Bennett. The doorbell rang, and I looked over his shoulder. “That’s him.”

Bennett nodded and disappeared down the hallway. I stood irresolute. There was so much left unsaid.

The doorbell rang again and I remembered Coby. This was his night, the high school quarterback’s big game. I couldn’t disappoint him
—
he deserved better than that. I opened the door and he smiled, looking spectacular in his dark gray slim-fitting suit.

“You look amazing,” he told me.

“Thank you.”

“I brought you something.” With a charmingly shy expression, Coby held out a box. “You don’t have to wear it. Sara said you’re not really a corsage kind of girl.”

Nestled inside was a thin bracelet of tiny white flowers sewn to black satin ribbon. “I love it,” I said, and held it out so he could tie it to my wrist.

“I wasn’t sure what color your dress was, so I got black and white.” He squinted at me. “What color is that, exactly?”

“The color of ghosts,” I said faintly.

He smiled. “That’s what I like about you. No other girl will be wearing the color of ghosts tonight.”

“No,” I said. “No, they won’t.”

We headed outside, into the cool air. For a moment, my entire body tingled with the incipient presence of a ghost, as if the veil had parted fully and the Beyond encroached on our world. The feeling was so strong that I stumbled a little, and Coby steadied me with a steely hand on my elbow.

I longed to go back inside, to the safety of Bennett’s arms, but I couldn’t disappoint Coby.

I touched Emma’s gold ring for luck. I still wondered whether or not I should have given Bennett the amulet. It had been safe around my neck. Was I responsible for Neos getting it? Had my newfound powers somehow summoned him? Were all those deaths my fault?

So many questions I couldn’t answer.

But they’d have to wait. I followed Coby to the car. Tonight I just needed to pretend everything was normal and go to the high school dance with the cutest boy in school.

Not such a bad fate.

28

Coby helped me into the passenger seat like a true gentleman
—
or a guy afraid his date would tumble off her heels again.

“I don’t wear heels that much,” I told him.

He started his dad’s Lexus.

“Or gowns.” I tried not to think about Bennett’s look when I’d descended the staircase.

Coby concentrated on driving, and a silence fell. Not one of the comfortable ones.

“Maybe we should go to that tailgate party instead of Harry’s,” I finally said.

Coby didn’t answer, watching the road. I examined his face in the light of the dashboard. Did he regret asking me? Maybe it was my dress
—
he wasn’t into vintage. Or his parents were going to be at Harry’s, and he was worried about me meeting them.

Or maybe he knew I was in love with someone else.

I vowed to be an exemplary date. He was the high school quarterback and my friend. For God’s sake, he deserved a satisfactory Homecoming. Then I noticed he wasn’t driving in the direction I expected him to. “We are going to Harry’s, right?”

Coby didn’t answer. He just kept driving.

“On the Neck, I mean.”

He turned right, away from the Neck, as a faint drizzle started to fall from gray clouds.

“Coby,” I said, a little sharper. “Where are we going?”

“A surprise,” he said, his voice tight, like he was nervous.

“Oh, good,” I said, trying to feel the school spirit. “I hope it’s not a parade, though
—
I hate parades. I mean, I don’t
hate
them. But it is raining and
—
”

He pulled into a parking lot. “Here.”

“Here where?” I asked, trying to see under the rapidly darkening sky.

He stepped out and made his way around to my side of the car.

I cracked my door. “Maybe I’ll just stay here. My shoes
—
”

Coby wrenched the door open and dragged me from the car.

“Ow!” I said, stumbling in the mud. “What is up with you?”

He dragged me through the squishy parking lot and my satin peep-toes were immediately ruined, not to mention the hem of my ghost dress.

“Coby, what’s wrong? Where are we?”

He grunted and pulled me along toward a black mass of water, and I realized where we were. Redd’s Pond.

Martha told me kids skated here when the water froze over, which sounded romantic, like a winter wonderland. Tonight the water smelled of pond scum mingling with mildewed earth, and the water looked sluggish and black. And I felt a tingle of
wrongness.
A wraith.

No. Worse.

Neos.

I tried digging my heels in the ground, but my heels were satin and the ground was wet and slick. I stumbled along in Coby’s painful grip. “Coby, listen to me. We have to get out of here. There’s something out here, that shouldn’t be
—
” I realized that telling him ghost stories wouldn’t change his mind, so I made a play for his sense of chivalry. “I’m scared, Coby. Take me home.”

“Home,” he whispered, as the tingle in my spine grew even stronger. There was something totally wrong with him.

I punched him in the arm. “Coby! What are you
on
?”

He pulled me closer to the pond, where the grim wooden contraption
—
the ducking chair
—
loomed in the gray drizzle. The feel of wraiths pricked my skin and the stench of evil clogged the air.

“Coby, I’m serious,” I told him. “We have to leave!”

“Not going anywhere.”

Coby was a football player in perfect condition, eighty pounds heavier and a foot taller than me
—
yet I knew I could get away. The Rake hadn’t taught me to waltz, after all. My only problem was I didn’t know if I could get away without crippling Coby. Whatever was going on, he didn’t deserve
that
.

“Coby,” I said, my voice calm. “We need to leave
now
.”

“You’re going nowhere,” he said, a little stronger.

So I stopped resisting, and let him drag me while I dug inside myself and channeled my ghostkeeping ability. I reached into the night, trying to find the source of the wrongness.

It only took a moment
—
and I recoiled.

Neos stood next to me.

Wearing Coby’s skin.

Looking at Coby with his beautiful eyes and his quick smile
—
but sensing the roiling evil inside
—
I felt myself sway for a moment, overwhelmed. How could I not have known? I’d been so distracted by my feelings for Bennett, I’d ignored what had been sitting beside me.

Then I punched him in the throat.

But I didn’t follow through hard enough to crush his windpipe
—
I couldn’t endanger Coby like that. Not that he was in much danger. Neos laughed inside of him and socked me in the stomach with inhuman strength.

I folded over, breathless and in pain, as he whispered in my ear, “Do your worst. Hurt your friend
—
kill him. I’ll throw him aside like a used suit. Maybe I’ll wear
you
 next.”

“I’m going to kill you,” I gasped.

“I’m already dead.”

I forgot my training, everything Martha had taught me. And freaked. I pounded his chest, screaming. “Get out! Get out of him.”

“Well, I
do
owe you.” He inhaled deeply, nostrils quivering. “If not for you, I’d never have learned how to step through the veil into a living body.”

He dragged me along the water’s edge, and I didn’t put up a fight. I needed to focus. I felt his arm digging into my skin, the bushes scratching my legs, and wet mud worming into my shoes. Summoning the sparks inside, I
shoved
power at him and felt all my force swallowed by his darkness.

“Maybe this,” he said, “will motivate you.” With his free hand, he pulled out the silver blade that he’d cut me with as a child. The blade that had killed Martha. “She begged when she died. She begged for you to help her.”

The world flashed red and the power inside of me burned brighter with fury, condensing and tightening to a single point. My body erupted with the might of all my hatred. But it was compelling power I shot at him, afraid that if I tried to dispel him, I’d hurt Coby. It was still a tremendous force
—
one aimed at driving him away.

He stumbled and his grip on my arm tightened until his fingernails punctured my skin. I poured everything into him, wrapped him with bands of light and skewered him with javelins, but something protected him. Some force deflected all my attacks.

Spent, I slumped in exhaustion.

Neos looked down at me in triumph. “You are too weak.”

When he spoke, something glinted on his tongue. My mother’s jade amulet, her talisman, embedded somehow in his mouth. Her focus animated Coby and protected Neos.

A sound I didn’t recognize came from my throat, full of anguish and horror. My body went lax and my mind blank, as Neos dragged me onto the platform of the ducking chair. The chains had been shattered and the mechanism was free. Part of me believed that if I went along with him, I wouldn’t get hurt.

That part of me was very wrong.

He strapped me to the heavy wooden chair, the stiff leather biting into my wrists. Neos pulled on a rope and the chair swayed and I rose into the air. I screamed as the beam overhead swung me toward the center of Redd’s Pond.

My fear overwhelmed me. More than fear. Panic, terror, a mindless horror
—
I realized my own fear was magnified by sitting in the chair. I felt the memories of other women who’d been strapped here, I flashed on the leering faces of their accusers. I couldn’t separate their terror from my own.

Until the chair fell into the icy pond.

The shock spiked through me. I couldn’t think, couldn’t see. The water was pitch-black, and the skirt of my beautiful ghostly dress ballooned around me. I blinked frantically in the murk, my hands clenching and my lungs burning. I kicked, trying to find solid ground, to push myself upward, but my peep-toe shoes only sank into the pond slime.

Finally, the chair rose and broke the surface. My body shuddered and my teeth chattered uncontrollably. I couldn’t decide which was worse
—
the freezing water or the chill night air. “Wh-wh-what do y-you
—
”

“What do I want?” Neos said, his voice strong, as though he’d learned to control Coby’s body perfectly now. “Power.”

“F-from me?” I asked, to keep him talking, to keep him from drowning me.

“Look at me. A ghost, mastering the flesh of the living.” He smiled horribly, no trace of Coby left in his expression. “Have they told you that possession is a myth? That no ghost can possess the living? Well, they were right
—
until me.”

I trembled in the rain and wind of the growing storm.

“I’ve taken physical form, but you … You took spectral form. You turned into a ghost. How did you do it?”

The ring! I felt it, dangling on my necklace, but strapped to the chair, I couldn’t reach it.

“Tell me how, and I’ll kill you quickly instead of agonizingly slow.”

There was no truth in him. He’d kill me like all the rest of the ghostkeepers. I’d writhe in agony as he carved designs into my skin.

“No,” I croaked.

Neos let the rope slide through his fingers and I dropped until my feet grazed the water.

“Please,” I begged. “N-not again.”

“Answer me.”

“I c-can’t.”

He grinned, forcing Coby’s lips into a foreign, cruel expression. “I’ll give you time to think about your decision.”

And he let the rope slide between his fingers.

The shock was worse this time, the cold slamming into me. But now I knew what I needed: the ring. My skin numb, desperately needing to breathe, I strained against the leather straps. They’d tightened in the water and I’d weakened. I was helpless as the darkness closed in.

Just as I thought I would pass out, he pulled me up and swung the chair toward him. My body convulsed, but I needed to buy time, so forced myself to speak. “Why did you k-kill them?”

“I already told you. Power.”

“But h-how?”

“I was born a ghostkeeper, little Emma,” he said scornfully. “And a good one
—
one of the best. But not like
you
. I’ve never seen one like you, turning into a ghost
—
”

“Liar.” I slumped listlessly in the chair. “You weren’t a ghostkeeper. Dead ghostkeepers can’t be summoned.”

“I wasn’t summoned, I never fully left. I killed myself
—
they said I’d linger forever, always fading but never gone. Until insanity overtook me, enfeebled me. But look at me now, I
—
”