Fragile Spirits (21 page)

Cinda scrambled to her feet and looked around in horror. Vivienne rolled over onto her side on the stoop of the mausoleum and screamed. Then she writhed as if she were having some kind of seizure.

Eyes huge, Cinda backed away from Vivienne. Race grabbed her by the arm and yanked her several yards away. “Is he out?” he asked.

Cinda just stared at him, uncomprehending.

“Is Smith out of your body?” Race shouted.

Vivienne got on her hands and knees and stared over at me. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

“Yes,” Cinda said. “He’s out.”

“Can I come in?” Race asked.

“Wha . . . I don’t understand.” Cinda swayed on her feet as if she were going to faint.

Race shook her by the shoulders. “Shit, girl. Just say yes!”

“Yes?”

Still standing, Race’s body went still, and Cinda shouted out as he put his soul in her body to keep Smith from possessing her again. At least she was safe now.

Vivienne doubled over and curled into a ball. “No,” she groaned, covering her head with her arms.

I’d never been so helpless in my life. I’d seen videos, I’d read accounts, but nothing could have prepared me for this. She was literally fighting Smith for control of her own body. But I had to wait for her prompt to come in. If I went in too early, she might be the weaker soul and I would evict her instead of Smith, killing her.

Her shaking hands clawed at the bricks of the structure as she pulled her way up the wall to stand, gasping for breath, cheek against the rough surface.

“Fight, Vivienne,” I said, moving closer. “You can do this.”

She charged past me, slamming into Race’s body, which fell over, head clipping the edge of a tombstone.

Her eyes darted around, and in jerky movements, she ran to where Smith had left the knife balanced on top of the tombstone. By the time I realized what she was doing, she had already grabbed it and held it by both hands out in front of her, as if to plunge it into her own chest.

“Smith, no,” I said. “Please, don’t do it. I beg of you.”

In a strange mechanical jerk, Smith turned her head and looked out at me through her eyes, knife still pointed at her chest. “You beg.”

“Yes. I beg. I plead.” I fell to my knees. “I offer you my life for hers. Whatever you want, just . . . not her.”

Her brow furrowed as Smith continued to consider me, knife lowering a little. “No one has ever begged me before. You would let me kill you right now to save her.”

“Right now.”

And I would have, if I’d thought it would really work. He lowered the knife from her chest and approached me where I was still on my knees in the grass. There was no way to enforce this exchange. I’d be dead, and he was the least trustworthy entity on the planet. But at least he had lowered the knife. Now I needed to make him doubt his actions so he would be weakened and she could fight back.

“She cares,” I said. “You know that. You talked to her. She’s special.”

“Yes. I thought she was. But she’s not. She’s just like Rose. She lied!” he shouted. He pointed with the knife to the two Suburbans parked on the road running through the cemetery. “She told me they would not come!”

“What difference does it make? They aren’t approaching, and they won’t until given the signal.”

He appeared confused. “She lied. She knew they would come.”

I shook my head. “She didn’t lie. I dialed them earlier, and they heard that girl screaming. Vivienne didn’t know.”

If I could keep him talking, he would use energy simply by possessing yet another body. Most Malevolents were good only for one, but he had been in three today, plus he’d summoned enough power to kill Lenzi. He had to be losing strength.

“Do you know that in her spare time, she teaches little kids how to read?” I remained in a subservient position on my knees, so he’d feel he still had control. “She does. She also loves history and classical literature.”

He blinked rapidly, then shook his head. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because it’s important.”

He scowled but made no effort to shut me up. I needed to keep him listening and stay calm so he would stick around but not become enraged and hurt Vivienne.

“And the first time I met her, she had hot pink hair. Pink like the color of azaleas. Do you remember what azaleas are?” He looked completely baffled. “They’re flowers that grow on bushes all over the South in the spring.” I slowly rose to my feet, and he didn’t react. “They’re beautiful and vivid, like her.” I walked to within a foot of where he stood in Vivienne’s body. “You know it too. You felt it, didn’t you? She’s special. And she cares about people. She cares about you.”

Tears spilled from Vivienne’s eyes. “Yes,” Smith’s voice whispered.

“Let her go.”

“I can’t. It’s . . . I . . . I can’t.”

Slowly, smoothly, palm up, I reached for the knife in his hand. Vivienne’s fingers loosened on the handle as mine wrapped around it. I pulled the knife away, almost fainting from relief.

Violent trembling started in the hands and moved its way up Vivienne’s arms until she shook all over, then crumpled into the grass.

She whimpered in her own voice, and every muscle in my body tensed as she rose to her knees, gasping for air, face contorted with pain. She bit her lip and reached around to her back pocket as if every inch she moved was excruciating. She pulled a card out of her pocket.

She took a breath and stared down at it. “The Death card,” she said, in her own lovely voice. She was quiet for a while, then she nodded her head. “Yes, Smith. My favorite. Do you remember what it represents?” She nodded again and sat back on her heels, meeting my eyes. “Yes, the transition to the next level of life.”

I couldn’t believe it. She had overpowered Smith, had retaken control of her body.

She held the card back up before her eyes. “It’s a good card for both of us. We both need to transition now. Leave revenge and hate behind.”

She shuddered and closed her eyes. “I can’t let you have my body again.” Another, more violent tremor racked her slender frame. “I said no.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m scared too, but I’ll be here with you the whole time. You won’t be alone.” Her voice was so low I could barely hear her.

Her pale skin glowed blue in the moonlight, making her look like an angel among the tombstones. Another gust of wind blasted from the east, whipping her hair around. Then a funny look crossed her face, and she laughed, startling me.

“Well, not yet, but I’m working on it,” she said. Eyes closed, she appeared to be listening. “Shhhh. Be still,” she said. Then, she opened her eyes and looked directly into mine. “Now, Paul,” she whispered.

“Out,” I commanded my soul, ready to battle Smith and rid her body of him. Since we weren’t touching, it was going to hurt. “In,” I ordered, regretting her groan.

I’d been told that evicting a Malevolent was like lifting a heavy weight made of fire. And it was a perfect comparison. Crushing pressure and searing heat pounded me on all sides when my soul entered Vivienne’s body. I pressed against the foreign soul pushing against me. It was sickening and dark and utterly terrifying.

“It’s over, Smith,” I heard Vivienne say. “Just let go.”

I couldn’t hear Smith, but I felt his response. He wasn’t going without a fight. I resisted a hard blast of energy from him, knowing that it would extinguish my soul to be pushed out.

I had to be strong and fight for Vivienne.

“Come on, Paul,” she said. “I know you can do it.” She stifled a groan as Smith gave another hard shove.

I gathered as much energy as I could scrape together to ram full force into Smith’s soul, and Vivienne screamed. And then I did it again, and again, and again. The burning stopped, and for a moment it felt as though my soul had expanded, but I realized that it had simply stretched to fill the space that Smith had emptied.

I
could see nothing. Vivienne’s eyes were closed.

Open your eyes,
I told her.

“I can’t look,” she whispered, sorrow flooding her body.

Behind us, car doors slammed, and footsteps approached.

Open your eyes, Vivienne. We have to see it. We need to confirm the outcome.

Her eyes cracked open, and standing right in front of her, flickering like a blue hologram, was Nicaragua Smith.

He looked nothing like I’d imagined—nothing like a demon at all. Small in stature, with a full beard, he wore tattered black clothes, and his hands were bound behind his back. He stared at Vivienne for several moments, then he gave her a sad, slight smile and bowed at the waist. She nodded back. As he straightened, a black swirl rose up around him until he was no longer visible. Then, the cloud dissipated, Smith along with it.

“Game over,” she breathed.

Somewhere behind us, Cinda cried out and Race whooped. “Yeah, buddy! That’s how it’s done!” Vivienne turned, and through her eyes, I watched Race shake his backside and dance in a circle. Charles was there with six or so guys in medical clothes.

“Fatalities?” Charles asked.

“Only Smith,” Vivienne answered. Her eyes shot to the mausoleum and concern consumed her body. “But Alden was hurt pretty bad.” She struck out running toward the whitewashed stone structure.

The heavy footsteps of the others racing through the dry grass behind us filled her ears.

Vivienne ducked under the archway of the mausoleum, scanning the room. The candle had burned down to a nub, its flame flickering wildly in the puddle of wax remaining in the candlestick, causing a strobe-light effect. Rachel hunkered in the corner just to the left inside the door. Maddi’s empty body faced straight forward in the middle of the left coffin slab. Tibby appeared to be asleep on the bench in the back, where Smith had left her. And Alden sat on the right coffin slab, his leg elevated and bound with the teal scarf that had been draped over the table earlier.

His eyes searched Vivienne’s face.

He doesn’t know,
I said.

“It’s over,” Vivienne whispered.

“She and Junior kicked Smith’s ass!” Race shouted from outside.

The light from the candle flickered in Alden’s tear-filled eyes. “Thank you.”

Charles ducked in next, followed by two medics. He assessed the room quickly, nodded to Alden, and stuck his head back out the opening, instructing the medics outside to retrieve a wheelchair.

Rachel whimpered, and Maddi’s body gasped to life.

“If you are ambulatory, please wait outside with me,” Charles said.

He stopped in an empty plot close to the mausoleum, and two men escorted Rachel to the cars. I knew they wouldn’t let her just go home. They would debrief her first, then make sure she wouldn’t go to the media or reveal us, possibly by offering her a plush paperwork job at headquarters. Many of the civilian employees at IC headquarters were past resolution witnesses.

“Go take care of Paul,” Charles instructed Vivienne.

While Charles questioned Maddi, Vivienne walked back to my body and placed both hands on my shoulders. “Go ahead,” she said.

I didn’t want to exit, because no one else could hear me when I spoke from inside and I had so many things to say that didn’t bear an audience—so many new things I’d discovered.

Vivienne, I—

“Get moving, Protector 993,” Charles ordered.

Her flush of frustration matched my own. It would have to wait until we were alone.

After my soul was reunited with my body, we rejoined the others. That amazing, warm emotion that I felt from Vivienne when we kissed transmitted from her, flooding my body, making it hard to concentrate on anything else while Charles wrote Race’s account on a sheet of paper fastened to a clipboard.

It was Maddi’s turn next. Cinda sat on a tombstone in a nearby plot, shivering, while Maddi recounted what had happened. When Charles called on Cinda to report, she only shook her head and whispered, “Can’t.”

“Why did you come to the scene when instructed not to do so?” Charles asked.

She shrugged, staring at the grave at her feet.

Charles looked up from his clipboard. “You showed reckless disregard for the mission, and you compromised the lives of multiple people, including a civilian and the family member of a Speaker.”

Cinda didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m . . . I didn’t . . .” She shook her head. “I can’t do this.”

Charles made a note on his clipboard. “I agree.”

Two medics escorted Tibby out of the mausoleum, one on each arm, and led her toward the cars. Vivienne ran after them and caught her up in a huge hug. Tibby grinned. “I’ll see you at home after these two handsome young men get my blood sugar all undiscombobulated.”

Vivienne shook her head and chuckled. “Behave yourself.”

Alden emerged in a wheelchair pushed by a guy in a lab coat next. His eyes shot directly to us as the man rolled him over the rough ground. Then Alden gasped as if he had just reanimated. He did it again and grabbed his chest. The man pushing the wheelchair stopped.

Charles’s phone rang, and he put it to his ear. “Yes, I know,” he said with a smile. His eyes locked on Alden, who looked like he had seen a ghost, which was funny if you really thought about it. “And her Protector knows too. Thank you for the call. Keep me updated on her progress.” He put the phone in his pocket and waited for Alden to catch his breath.

“She’s back,” Alden choked out. “She died, but she’s back.” He thumped his chest. “I feel her!”

“She was never dead. She had a complicated surgery, and she’s recovering now,” Charles explained, walking toward him.

He shook his head in disbelief. “She was
dead.
I felt her die.”

Charles patted his shoulder. “General anesthesia is new to you this cycle. Before this lifetime, I don’t think Rose ever underwent any kind of surgery requiring she be unconscious. I imagine it would feel like she had died.”

Alden looked as though he were going to launch out of the chair. “I have to see her. Now!”

“Treat him at the same facility,” Charles instructed the medics. “Go ahead and take the two patients and the civilian girl.”

Race cleared his throat and fidgeted. Charles smiled. “And Race and Maddi can follow you in the civilian’s car.”

“What about me?” Cinda asked.

Charles sighed. “You’ll ride with me, Paul, and Vivienne in the second vehicle.”

The emotional pulses coming from Vivienne intensified, and it was all I could do to not grab her and kiss her right there. Instead, I took a step away so that the scent of candles and incense weakened. I fought hard to focus on Charles as he spoke. “I’ll interview the two of you after you have had some time to relax, since your reports will take the longest. I have enough to do a preliminary write-up for now. That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook on your own report, Paul.”

“No, sir,” I said.

The moment he turned his back, Vivienne grabbed me and made good on what I’d been wanting to do myself. She wrapped around me like her life depended on it, and stayed that way until Charles cleared his throat. I ended the kiss, but she didn’t release my neck, creating the most awkward situation ever. I met Charles’s eyes.

He lifted a finger at Vivienne. “I do need one thing clarified, though, Speaker 961. Race told me you said something unusual to Smith immediately before Protector 993 entered the Vessel. Do you recall your last words with Smith?”

“Of course I do.”

In the moonlight, I couldn’t make out Charles’s expression clearly, but I could hear the amusement in his voice. “What was it he asked you?”

She turned loose of my neck and grinned. “Oh. He asked me if Paul was in love with me.”

Leaving me dumbstruck, she strode toward the cars while I racked my brain for her response. What had she said? What had she said . . . ?

Turning to look over her shoulder at Charles and me, she winked. “I told him I was working on it.”