“I had to,” I whispered.
The hardness left her face. She sighed. “I know.”
“But I quit,” I said. “Last week.”
It was as if I hadn’t spoken at all.
“Headaches, yes?” she asked.
I tried to ignore Wyatt’s eyes boring into me and said, “Yes.”
“They’re bad, right? You get them every day? What about flashes — do you see flashes? Like light, but hazy?”
I nodded.
“There are voices? Whispers?”
“Maybe,” I said.
“And it all started when you first tried to make contact, right?” She sighed and sat back, shaking her head. “Who taught you how to do it?”
“A book,” I said. “By Walter … somebody.”
“Sawamura,” she said. “Walter Sawamura. Which book? He’s written dozens.”
I wanted desperately to pretend I didn’t know, but I said, “Contact with the Spirit Realm.”
She nodded, tapping her fingers on the armrests. “That book was published in 1983. Do you know what was published in 1984?”
I shook my head.
“A letter from Walter Sawamura to everyone who’d bought that book, begging them to send their copies back to him. Some things don’t belong in the hands of those who aren’t strong enough to control them. He refunded the money out of his own pocket, because he knew he’d made a huge mistake. He lost thousands of dollars. But a few copies slipped through. And I guess you found one.”
I nodded.
“Listen to me,” Leyta said. “Go home, take that book, and — you have a moldavite ring, I suppose?”
“Yes,” I whispered, thinking of the green-stoned ring in the black suede pouch.
“Put the ring in a ziplock baggie full of salt. Put that bag and the book in a shoe box. Put something made of real silver in the box. Duct-tape it shut and bury it. Twelve inches deep at least. Don’t ever dig it up.”
“Um … okay,” I said. “And that’ll get rid of the ghost?”
Her face fell. “No. But it’ll close the door on the energies and spirit forces that are hitchhiking on your aura. It should take care of most of the headaches, the dizzy spells, the flashes….”
Those were all things I’d brought on myself? I couldn’t believe I hadn’t connected them with my lame, hopeless efforts to contact Dad.
I dropped my head, feeling like the dumbest person on the planet.
“I know it was an accident,” Leyta said, patting my hands gently. “But, honey, every ghost in a ten-mile radius came running every time you called, and one of them finally got its hooks in you. Now it’s on you to figure out why, otherwise you’ll never be free of it. You’ve created a portal and you draw energy to you, like a magnet. You probably feel like you’ve been going crazy. Your aura is like … like a thunderstorm.”
“Excuse me.” Wyatt cleared his throat but managed to keep his voice muted, respectful. “If she’s been doing this for two years, why did a ghost just now, uh … latch on?”
“Because,” Leyta said, staring directly into my eyes, “all that stuff before, those were first dates. This entity, whatever it is, felt connected enough to get you. And now … you’re got.”
“Awesome,” I said gloomily. “How do I get un-got?”
“There are no shortcuts in the flow,” Leyta said, “no clicking your heels three times and poof! This is your journey. You gotta go with it.”
I nodded.
She sat back and clapped her hands lightly on her knees. “That’s it, kids. Show’s over. Can’t be late; my manager’s in a terrible mood today.”
I stood up and reached for my purse. “How much do I owe you?”
“Your money’s no good here,” she said. “Just take care of yourself.”
“Out of curiosity,” Wyatt said, “what does my aura look like?”
“Ha,” Leyta said. “You, I charge for that information.”
She walked us to the door. As soon as Wyatt opened it and stepped outside, Leyta put her hand on my shoulder, leaned forward, and quickly pulled the door closed.
We were alone in her apartment, the two of us.
“May sixteenth,” she said in a rush. “Two years ago. I woke up and Paul was here.”
Paul Cresky? My father?
May sixteenth. I went numb.
“He said to tell you to be good. And that he loves you.” She hesitated. “Was he religious? Because he said to tell you to look for a shepherd.”
I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I shook my head.
“Listen, you’re not going to find your dad, sweetie, and you never were. He’s moved through. He’s good. He doesn’t need to forgive you. You need to forgive you, that’s all.”
I nodded, which was basically the only thing I was capable of doing.
“Anyway, you’d better go,” she added softly. “Your friend probably thinks I’m performing voodoo ceremonies on you. He’s a bit much, but he cares about you. And don’t tell him I told you, but his aura’s green. He’s a healer.”
She opened the door and I stumbled out, crashing into Wyatt a millisecond before I would have fallen down the steps.
“What did she say?” he asked. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, a pathetic lie.
But he was kind enough not to call me on it.
As we walked toward the car, I couldn’t stop thinking about my dad … and then it hit me.
Look for a shepherd …
Could he have meant Wyatt Sheppard?
My mother was in her bedroom, folding laundry, when I knocked on the door.
She looked up at me, a bright smile on her face. “How was studying?”
Oh, right, my cover story — studying at Marnie’s house. “Good,” I said. “Do you have an extra shoe box somewhere?”
“An empty one?”
I sat down on the bed. “If I didn’t want an empty shoe box, I would have asked if you had shoes.”
“Ha-ha, smartypants,” she said. “I’ll go check my closet. Here, make yourself useful.”
She dumped a bunch of socks next to me, and I set to work matching them. It was weird touching anything Jonathan wore, even if it was on his feet.
A few seconds later, Mom came out, holding a pink box out to me. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” I got up to leave.
“Hang on, Wil,” she said. “Do you think you could stay at Marnie’s the last weekend in April?”
“Sure,” I said. “Why? What’s going on?” I’d been sitting with Marnie and the other Hollywood kids every day at lunch, and she was the closest thing I had to a friend, but we still didn’t feel remotely close. Still, I figured she would be cool with me sleeping over at her house.
A sunny smile bloomed on Mom’s lips. “Jonathan and I are going on a little trip to Palm Springs. If you’re not comfortable with my leaving, I don’t have to go, but since we didn’t get a honeymoon …”
“Of course you should go,” I said. “I’m a big girl.”
“Thanks, sweetie. Jonathan had to move a bunch of meetings around to make it work, but he says it’s no big deal.”
“Mom,” I said, rolling the matched socks across the bed to her, “he married you. Stop acting like you’re auditioning for something.”
“Oh, Willa,” she said. “It’s not like that.”
“It kind of seems like it is,” I said, studying the intricate hand-embroidered design on their white bedspread.
“I’m sorry if that’s the impression I’ve given you,” she said quietly. “But I’m very happy. So is Jonathan. And our greatest wish is that you’ll be happy here, too.”
“I’m fine,” I said. Unless you count the fact that I’ve opened a portal to the spirit world, I’m being stalked by a ghost, and my aura is the color of dirty rainwater. Other than that, things are awesome.