Intrinsical - Lani Woodland [62]
“But why would it capture souls?”
“Obviously for something bad. Power maybe?”
“To what end?”
“I don’t know,” Brent said tersely.
“It said it needed me. What’s so special about me?”
“No idea. I’m sure it has nothing to do with your natural talent, your family lineage, and your ability to see evil ghostly fogs,” he said sarcastically. “Then, to top it all off, your dead friend was trying to warn you and you were starting to listen. No matter why he needs you— I’m sure your attempt to contact me made him act sooner than he planned. You needed to be stopped before you figured it all out.”
I gulped loudly and my mouth went dry as something new occurred to me. “I know Cherie. She’s going to start poking around into my death. Will he go after her, too?”
“Don’t worry Yara, she won’t get far. I tried contacting her first. She has no paranormal radar.” Brent was quite for a beat. “It surprised me. I thought after all the stuff you said she saw that she’d be easy to communicate with. Imagine my surprise when I got through to you instead.”
I felt my cheeks burn in shame. “Cherie didn’t see any of that stuff. It was all me.”
Brent rubbed his temple where his bruise had been, a feeling of hurt in his eyes. “Why did you lie?”
“I was afraid you’d think I was unstable. And I was right.”
“Fair enough,” he said pulling on his gray sweater. “Well, it bothered me that people like her treat my brother’s death like a game.”
“I might be a tad touchy about the word crazy,” I admitted, tucking a curl behind my ear.
“Why?”
“Vovó. Like I said, she can see ghosts. It’s fine in Brazil— people accept it and admire her for it. But when she comes to the States and talks to ghosts in public or wherever, people start using the ‘crazy’ word.”
“Why does she even talk to them when other people are around?” Brent asked rubbing his arm.
“She feels like it’s her duty to help them.”
“And you don’t.”
I chewed my lip in thought; this was getting to the painful parts that I didn’t talk about much. Even Cherie had learned to sort of gloss over the finer points whenever our conversations got too close to this subject.
“I . . . I never felt that way,” I admitted. “Ever since we moved here, my family was called crazy and lots of worse things because of her conversing with thin air. I was hoping I would be lucky and not get the gift. Then I came to Pendrell and started seeing the mist. And when I told you about it and you called me crazy—” The words spewed out of my mouth before I could stop them. “it hurt,” I finished, staring him right in the eye so he would be sure to get the message.
Brent scowled at me for a second before he chuckled. “Yeah, well, so did that book.”He lifted his head watching the clouds stroll across the blue sky. “If it makes you feel better, I believe you now.”
I fought a grin as Brent leaned against a large tree crossing his arms deep in thought.
I was quiet for a moment, watching an elephant shaped cloud traipse across the sky. “Vovó felt I was the great hope for the legacy since my sister looked every bit the blue-eyed, blonde-haired American, and I every bit my Father’s Brazilian daughter with hazel eyes, brown-tinged skin, and dark hair.” I ran a finger through my dark locks. “I was relieved I was allowed to stay in California when my dad was transferred, missing out on years of unwanted lessons in the family legacy. But I ended up here . . . surrounded by ghosts.”
“So you couldn’t hide from who you really are, huh?”
“I guess not.” I bit the inside of my cheek before confessing, “I’m a Waker.”
“What’s a Waker?”
“In Brazil they call it Acordera, but Waker is easier to say. It’s a name for people who can see ghosts. I was just starting to be able to see them . . . the ability gets stronger with age. A Waker, though, does more than just look at spirits; she can communicate with them as well. If I had tried harder, you wouldn’t have had to go to such dramatic lengths to talk to me.” I let my shoulders relax. “If