Fragile Spirits (11 page)

“Revenge is a byproduct of something else. It’s not what you really want.”

“You’re wrong. But that’s not why I”—she shifted uncomfortably and placed her hand on the back of her neck—“did this.”

Her grandmother opened the door.

“Just talking,” Vivienne said. “Nothing to see here. Move along.”

“Sassy!” Her grandmother chuckled and closed the door.

The room was small and intimate, and with the smell of this girl filling my head and her emotions flowing into me, I was a breath away from losing my mind. I needed to get out before I said or did something stupid and blew it again. “Are you hungry?” I asked. “I know a place that has great 911 enchiladas.”

She grinned. “Starving. Can we bring something back for Grandma? She hasn’t made it to the grocery store yet.”

I offered a hand to help her up. “Would she like to come with us?”

“No.”

“Yes!” her grandma’s voice called from the hallway.

“No,” Vivienne said more emphatically, taking my hand. Her eyes widened, and a jolt of excitement from her soul slammed into me when we touched. She felt it too, whatever this attraction was between us. She didn’t pull her hand away, but just stood and stared.

“You need a chaperone,” her grandma called. At this moment, I tended to agree with her.

“And you need to get a life! Preferably one that’s not mine,” Vivienne said, still holding my hand.

Her grandmother whooped and belly laughed from the hallway. “You get more like your mama every day.” She laughed again and then her laughter faded as she went to the other part of the house.

Vivienne released my hand finally, and my heart started again.

“I like her,” I said, taking a step back, grateful I could speak at all.

“I love her,” Vivienne replied. “There’s no one in the world like her.” She grinned. “And she’s totally nuts. Oh, I know what we should do. Let’s go to the fried chicken drive-through place a few blocks away, and we can drop some off for her and then go hang out somewhere else. That’ll make her happy and get her off my case for a while.”

I was finding it hard to not watch her lips as she talked. I
had
to get out of there. “Sounds like a great plan. Ready to go?”

A funny look came over her face. “Not quite yet.” She unwrapped the towel, and jet-black hair tumbled in a wet mass past her shoulders.

My twinge of disappointment came as a surprise. The pink hair that was so unnatural and shocking at first had grown on me.

She pulled a hairbrush out of a box by the door and ran it through her hair. “The school said that I had to have hair that was a natural color, or I couldn’t go there.” She grinned. “They said I was distracting.” She pitched the brush back in the box. “Now I’ll just have to find other ways to be distracting. Game on!”

I laughed. “No doubt you’ll find a way.”

“I always do.” She snapped on a thick leather wristband with a serpent on it and looped silver serpent earrings through her earlobes.

As we left, her grandma was friendly to me, which was a huge relief. I had no chance of winning Vivienne over without Grandma’s approval—no matter how slight. Grandma might hate the Intercessor Council, but I’d make sure she didn’t hate me. In Vivienne’s words, game on.

W
e dropped drumsticks and mashed potatoes off at the house for Vivienne’s grandmother, and since it was a nice day, we drove to a park with a duck pond nearby.

Even in November, the temperatures in Houston could reach the sixties, like on this day.

Sitting on a park bench with a bucket of chicken between us, anyone looking on would think we were just normal people out enjoying a beautiful afternoon and an early dinner. But we were far from normal.

“Stop it,” Vivienne said under her breath. For a moment I thought she might be talking to me, but then she closed her eyes and whispered, “Not now. Go away.”

No fear flowed from her, only mild agitation, so I took another bite of chicken, glad she was at least communicating with Hindered rather than simply ignoring them.

The tiny park was empty with the exception of a couple on the other side of the pond sitting on top of a picnic table with their backs to us.

Vivienne shook her head. “You thought I’d rejected you. No wonder you told me to leave the house that night. I can’t believe Race or Cinda didn’t fill you in on what went on down in Galveston.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me yourself.”

She took a sip of her drink. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“You succeeded.” I wiped my hands on a napkin and put the remains of my meal in the trash can next to the bench.

Her hair had dried, and strands blew across her face in the evening breeze. The ink black was just as striking as the pink had been and made her skin appear even paler. She broke off a bit of biscuit and pitched it toward several ducks eyeing us from the water. “I should have told you.”

“I should have trusted you.”

She stared up at me. “You don’t know me, and I’d given you nothing to trust.”

That was true. I sat down and leaned back against the wooden slats on the bench. The ducks waddled from the water and waited patiently for Vivienne to share more biscuit. “What made you decide so quickly to bond your soul to mine?”

She pitched some more crumbs to the ducks, who had become emboldened and were only a foot or so away. “Are you unhappy I did it?”

“No. God, no.” On impulse, I reached over to touch her, maybe out of a need to express my sincerity, but stopped myself, dropping my hand in my lap instead. “I just didn’t expect it, especially after having such a rough time with the farmhouse resolution.” A duck with a green head nipped the cuff on my school khakis. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Ah. Yeah, you want to know why I did it.” She broke off another bit of biscuit, and the ducks made muffled quacking sounds, flipping their tails as they shuffled awkwardly on the grass, begging for food like puppies. “It was because of Race.”

I groaned inwardly to know I’d now be indebted to Race for helping me out, even if he didn’t mean to—which I was sure he didn’t.

The white duck closest to her made a screeching sound, and she dropped a piece of biscuit right in front of it. “He explained the risk you’d taken by accepting the blame for my screw-ups. Well, more like he chewed me out for being a selfish bitch while you put your life on the line, risking execution to keep me safe.”

I stared at the ducks squabbling over the bread at her feet. “I was certain it wouldn’t come to that.”

“But it could have.”

“Theoretically.”

“And you covered up for me, knowing you could be discontinued for it.”

I kept my eyes on the ducks, unable to look at her. The intense emotion flowing from her made my body feel warm all over. I was afraid of being overwhelmed and saying something stupid.

She threw the remainder of the biscuit into the pond, and the ducks waddled away after it. “I told you the truth back at the house: I agreed to join the IC for revenge—revenge on the demon who killed my aunt and on the Speaker who stood my mother up. I had it all planned out. With the help of a temporary Protector—hopefully, a really experienced one—I’d dispatch the demon to hell, where he belongs, then I’d hunt down the identity of the Speaker who hurt my mom, and quit the IC once I had spoken with him. No fuss. No mess. No strings attached. Grandma would get a house out of it, and I’d be free to do whatever I wanted after that.”

Still unable to read her intense emotions accurately or meet her eyes, I stared straight ahead at the couple all tangled up together on the table across the pond. “Sounds like you had it all planned out.”

“I did. But I hadn’t counted on you.” She paused for a long time while I stared straight ahead. “Look at me,” she whispered. Once I met her eyes, she continued. “No one other than family has ever done anything like that for me before. I’ve always been the one set up to get caught or take the hit. I’ve always been the target.” Tears filled her eyes but didn’t breach the rims. “You’ve asked me to trust you over and over. I do. It’s why I changed my mind and got the soul brand. I need you to trust
me
now.”

I stared out across the pond again, processing her words and her raw emotions blasting through me. Another layer of her toxic defense had peeled away. Underneath the harsh façade, I’d just discovered she was fiercely loyal. Loyal enough to take a huge, life-altering risk. Multiple lives, actually.

“Dang. They need to go get a room,” she said. I glanced over, and she was watching the couple across the pond.

“Did it hurt?”

“What, the brand? I have no idea. I was out cold. Did yours hurt?”

“I was ten years old. It was done during a Protector induction ceremony. I was asleep under some kind of anesthesia.” I rubbed my neck. “I didn’t even know where it was until it started feeling like a beesting yesterday.” Looking back, I should have known what it was. Charles had been right. I was distracted.

“Yeah. It evidently only hurts in this initial cycle when the souls are joined for the first time. Cinda says when we come back in the next lifetime, it’ll start out like a big mole or birthmark, then it will darken and get sharp edges like it has now when we come into our powers or whatever.”

“May I see it?”

She laughed. “You are acting so nervous. It’s not like you’re asking me to lift my shirt for Mardi Gras beads.”

The image made my breath catch.

She laughed again. “Sure. It’s in the same place as yours. At least that’s what Cinda said.” She leaned forward on the bench and lifted her hair. Just under the hairline, there was something that looked like a striking birthmark, or maybe a henna tattoo. It was in the shape of what appeared to be a bird in flight. It was fragile and beautiful . . . like Vivienne.

No.
I shook my head to clear it. It had to be the soul branding bond making me into a sappy mess like this.
Focus,
I told myself.

“It’s cool, huh? And it stung like crazy when I dyed my hair.”

That explained the irritation I’d felt when I drove up. “It’s very cool.” Cool for so many reasons, most of which I couldn’t even articulate.

“My turn.”

Her excitement made my brain a little fuzzy, so it took me a moment to figure out what she meant. “Oh.” I turned my back to her, still seated on the bench.

Her cool fingertips brushed my neck and I held my breath. I hoped the sensitivity to her would end soon so I could function normally again. “Yours is lower on the neck than mine. I guess that’s so it’s covered by a collar or something.” She moved closer and her breath on my neck gave me chills. “Yeah. That’s cool looking.” Her fingertips skimmed over my skin again. “I love it. Very sexy.”

My exhalation became a choking sound.

She chuckled and moved away. I caught my breath as she gathered up her trash from the bench.

A surge of irritation pulsed from her. She made a growling sound. “Dang it, ghoul. Leave me alone.” She stood, crushed her empty cup and threw her garbage in the can next to me. “This is driving me nuts. I can’t even have a conversation without some dead guy barging in and interrupting. This one’s been doing it since we got here.”

“Why don’t you resolve it? It just wants your attention so you’ll help it out.”

“Do we have time for something like that?”

I almost laughed. “It’s what we do.”

“Can we do it here?”

The couple across the pond were so caught up in each other, they wouldn’t notice us at all. “It depends on what it needs, but probably. Give it a try. Ask what it wants.”

She turned toward me slightly. “Just ask it what it wants? As simple as that?”

“As simple as that.”

After looking around to see if the coast was clear, she cleared her voice. “So, um, ghouly. What is it you need from us . . . me? What do you want?”

She studied her lap and listened. No fear came from her, just nervous excitement, which made my heart beat even faster. This was how it was supposed to work. It was what we were made to do, and I soared at the thought.

“No way, you’ve gotta be kidding me.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Too stupid. Not gonna do it.”

Well, maybe this was
not
how it was supposed to work. “What does it want?” I asked.

“He wants me to give some girl her yo-yo back.” She raked her fingers through her hair, making it look even wilder.

“Why is this a problem for you?”

“Because it’s silly and a waste of time.”

I took her warm, soft hand in mine, and she met my eyes. “Nothing they need is silly. It’s what’s holding their souls here after death. We may not understand why, but it’s very important to them.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t pull her hand away. “What happens if I think it’s too silly, and I refuse?”

I could feel her irritation growing, so I sent some calm her way through our linked hands. “If you refuse, it could become a Malevolent and hurt someone. Two things give them power: lingering a very long time and strong desire. That’s why Malevolents are so powerful. They want something very badly. Badly enough to take your body and shove you out, ending your soul’s hold on life.”

She stared at our hands. “I like the buzzing thing you do when you touch me. Is that a Protector thing?”

“Yes.”

“Keep doing it.”

“Okay.”

She slid her other hand in mine. “You think a yo-yo is keeping that dead kid stuck here?”

“Yes. It’s a kid?”

She nodded.

“Excellent.” Children were notoriously the easiest Hindered to resolve, because their problems were usually simple.

She pulled her hands away, then slid them right back into mine. “That’s really cool. It calms me down.”

I focused on keeping the current flowing to her. “That’s the objective. Why don’t you ask the Hindered?”

Again, no fear. She amazed me. In her place, I’d be terrified. Most new Speakers had a hard time getting used to it. Perhaps the fact she’d heard the voices of the dead since she was a little girl helped. She was also inquisitive and bold. She was going to be a brilliant Speaker.

“Okay, ghouly kid. What’s with the yo-yo?”

She stared at a point just over her right shoulder and then met my eyes, brow furrowed. “Dang. He’s hard to understand. He’s talking fast and has a lisp or something. I don’t understand him at all.” She closed her eyes. “Slow down, kiddo.”

She was quiet for a while, and I kept the calming energy running from me through her. Her hands were so small in mine. She didn’t have the big, creepy rings on today.

“It’s not working,” she said, pulling her hands away. “He’s too hard to understand. He keeps saying ‘Let me, let me.’ And I’ve no clue what he wants.” She fiddled with the metal shapes on her belt.

“He wants to use your body to solve his problem.”

She groaned. “My aunt’s partner used to do that all the time—let the dead guys use his body to do weird stuff. It scared me to watch it.”

I placed my hand over hers at her waist. “It’s by far the most effective way to resolve their problems. Much more direct. I can kick it out of your body anytime you want.”

She stood and took a step away from me. I could feel her anxiety, but still no fear. “I don’t want to lose control like that.” She walked to the edge of the pond.

I joined her at the water’s edge, purposely keeping my voice level and calm. We were so close to performing our job as prescribed by the IC. We needed to do this resolution. “You won’t lose control. It’s not like a possession. You only allow it the power you want it to have.” I touched her shoulder briefly, and she turned toward me. “You’ll be there the whole time, and you can talk to me when you want to. I’ll help and ask questions and take it where it needs to go.” I could tell from the lessening of her anxiety she was considering it. “You can end the soul-share any time you feel you are in danger or compromised. Hindered aren’t evil or out to hurt you. They just want to move on.”

She was still nervous, but not afraid. I felt her decision before she voiced it.

Purposefully, she strode to the bench and sat, ready for work. “Okay, ghost kid. Hop on in and do what you need to do.” Despite her casual words, she sat as rigid as a board.

“Just relax,” I said, lowering next to her on the bench, “and give him control of your body.”

“Come on, kid. Do it.” She took in a sharp breath through her teeth and shuddered. “Crap, that hurts,” she muttered. Almost immediately, her posture changed. She scooted to the edge of the bench and looked over at me. “Who are you?” a boy’s voice said from her mouth.

“I’m Paul. What’s your name?”

“Jathon. Jathon Lynch. Hey! Leth go chath the duckth!”

At that, Vivienne jumped up and raced to the edge of the pond flailing her arms, causing the ducks to freak out and scatter in all directions, squawking madly. I couldn’t help but laugh at Vivienne, in her badass Goth clothes, acting like a little kid chasing ducks along the edge of the water. The couple on the picnic table across the pond had come up for air to watch the bizarre scene. The girl got to her feet, straightened her shirt, and grabbed her purse. The guy stood too, and they headed to the parking area. Good. They were leaving.

Vivienne darted toward the white duck, giggling maniacally, and I laughed out loud. She stopped abruptly and put her hands on her hips. “You’d better not be laughing at me,” she said in her own voice.