Bolting off the bench, fighting off a spurt of dizziness, I spin around.
I’m not alone.
I shiver as Leo grins at me, his eyes glowing.
Thirteen
I BACK UP A STEP. “You’re not supposed to touch me without permission.”
He holds up his palms in a surrender gesture. “Sorry. I just needed a little energy boost.”
Maybe I didn’t repel him because all my defenses were down, or maybe it has something to do with the black mark on his neck. I get the sense that not all the rules of the Prism apply to him. “Are you stalking me?” He was at the graveyard and in Carson’s car. Now here.
“You’re paranoid.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m not right.”
Shrugging, he sits on the bench, stretches his arms along the back and his long legs in front of him. “I’m waiting for someone.”
Is it just coincidence that he’s waiting where I happen to be?
“Where’s Thatcher?” he asks.
Guilt swamps me, along with a sense of disloyalty.
Leo chuckles. “He doesn’t know about your little private excursions, does he? He will not be happy.”
Don’t I know that.
“I have to go.” But I’m suddenly self-conscious about him watching me create a portal.
“What’s the rush? You should stay. It’s always more exciting when Thatcher isn’t around. He is such a total downer since he died.”
I’m taken aback. “You knew him when he was alive?”
“Oh, yeah.” He interlaces his fingers together, makes a double fist. “We were close.”
Before I can ask him what happened, Reena appears down the street. When I turn toward her, she waves. “Hey!”
Behind her are Delia and Norris.
“About time,” Leo says, shoving himself off the bench.
“Sorry. We got caught up in something.” She smiles at me. “So glad you’re here, Callie. You can hang with us.”
“I don’t know. I’ve been gone for a while.”
“Are you feeling tired?”
“No, but—”
“Then play with us.”
A thousand alarm bells go off in my head. I know Thatcher wouldn’t like this, but my curiosity has always overwhelmed my caution. Besides, I know these ghosts.
“I guess I could stay a little while longer.” Not to mention I welcome a distraction from my inability to make any progress with Nick. Maybe hanging around with Reena will teach me something that will help.
“Great. So what’s up?” Reena asks, smiling fully now.
So many things.
“Not much,” I say. “Still dead.”
Norris and Delia laugh enthusiastically. “I like you, Callie,” says Delia. “Just being around you, I feel amazing.”
“Callie’s found what Ponce de León never could,” says Norris, and I’m not sure what he means, but he’s smiling, so it must be good.
“How are things going with your haunting?” prods Reena.
Her face is cheerful, curious. The warm glow in her eyes says that I can trust her, that I can talk to her.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I mean, I’m trying. I just feel kind of . . .”
“Down?” asks Reena.
“Yeah. Something like that.”
She reaches into her pocket for a hair tie and pulls her long black locks into a quick ponytail.
“Why don’t we all go have a little fun?” she suggests. “I can show you how to interact a little more. You want to connect with those you love, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Thatcher has her brainwashed,” Leo sneers.
“No, he doesn’t,” I say in my—and his—defense.
“But he’s trying to convince you to stick with the whole soul-touching thing, right?” He leans toward me. “Who are you gonna believe? Those who completed their hauntings? Or the guy who failed at his?”
Although Thatcher did fail, he must have learned something from his experience or he wouldn’t be a Guide. Leo’s dislike of Thatcher has me not wanting to be anywhere near Leo. I still don’t trust him. “You guys go on, have fun. I really need to get back.”
Reena steps nearer to me. “Look, Callie, where’s the harm in at least learning how to do it? It’s like all the facts you learn for a history exam. They’re not all on the test, but you’re prepared if they are. Everyone’s experience in the Prism is different.” She comes a little closer and lowers her voice, like we’re sharing something she doesn’t want the others to know. “You already know that Thatcher hasn’t told you everything—like the truth about the portals. I’m just saying, knowledge is power. Be prepared. You don’t have to do it if you’re not comfortable with it.”
She’s right. Thatcher did hold out on me. Why shouldn’t I learn what I can and make my own decisions? I nod. “I guess it can’t hurt.”
Leo claps his hands together, his smile big and broad. “Hell, yes. Who feels like a coffee?”
We step into Kudu, a café where people are always hanging out, sitting around and drinking coffee. Some are students, others are townies, but it’s kind of a scene. When we arrive, Leo laughs and says, “Laptop city.”
“Who first?” asks Reena with a gleam in her eye.
Norris points at a redheaded girl in the corner who quickly types like her thoughts can’t keep up with her fingers. We follow as Reena strolls over to the table and stands behind the typing girl.
Reena touches my forearm and a buzz jolts me, tingling its way through me, like ice cracking in the center of a frozen lake sending out jagged fissures toward shore. Cold and sharp. She stares me right in the eye, almost challenging me not to pull back. “To connect, you just have to heighten your energy,” she explains. “That won’t be a problem for you.”
For a tense moment, I could swear I hear a spark of envy in her voice. I almost point out that it’s rude to take energy without asking—wondering if they invited me along because of what I have instead of what I am. Like the girl at school who’s suddenly popular because she got a sports car over the summer. I shake it off. I have energy to spare and they need it. So what? “How does this work?” I ask.
“You remember the feeling of whatever you’re going to interact with,” Reena explains, “so right now, I’m thinking about the light weight of laptop keys under my fingers, the way my nails click a little bit on their surfaces . . .”
She closes her eyes, puts her arms on either side of the girl, and rests her fingers on the keys. The girl is typing out what looks to be a painful history paper, but suddenly the document has a mind of its own—or Reena’s own, I guess. Right in the middle of the page, new words emerge:
I’M WATCHING YOU, RED.
The girl’s mouth falls open as she looks nervously around the coffee shop, like someone could have broken into her document virtually and done this.
Leo and Norris crack up at her bewildered gaze. It is pretty funny. I would be so freaked out. She erases Reena’s typing, then takes a deep breath and starts working again.
“Not a big enough reaction,” says Delia, throwing her golden curls over her shoulder. “Let’s try something more drastic.”
“Like what?” I ask.
They all huddle around me, like we’re calling secret plays on a football field. “Put your hands in the center,” says Reena. I’m wondering if we’re going to do some sort of ghost fight cheer, but when I place my palm on top of the others’, I feel a deep vibration, almost like we’re holding on to a moving car. Tiny sparks are shooting through me, reminding me of a bug zapper that lights up every time a mosquito hits it.
I look up at Reena, and she must see the question in my eyes.