Lightbringer (17 page)

“I was taught that the Never can't influence the living,” Wendy said. “The whole lot of you are just ghosts.”

The White Lady chuckled. “Just ghosts. That's rich.” She pointed to the swingset. “Do you remember the woman you reaped here? What was she doing when you found her?”

Wendy stiffened. “How did you know about that?”

“Answer the question. What was she doing?”

Shrugging, Wendy glanced at the swingset. “Pushing her granddaughter on the swing.” She stopped. “Wait, that can't be right. She was dead. That can't happen.” Wendy chewed her lower lip and tried to remember more about that day. Surely she'd imagined the old woman pushing the girl. To think otherwise was to start entertaining ideas she wasn't prepared to handle, especially without her mother to answer the questions that were bullying their way to the forefront of Wendy's mind. “Can it?”

“You tell me.” The White Lady sounded as if she were smirking, but the heavy shadow of her cloak hid her face. She gestured back toward the house. “Don't you ever wonder what happened to the mother of that little girl? What sort of mother would leave her child to an abusive stepfather and a sick grandmother? Especially after that grandmother had kicked the bucket?”

“A real mom wouldn't. She'd be back home right away.”

“True! ‘A mother's love endures through all.’ Washington Irving. So, my dear girl, why would a mother have to let someone like you intervene on her child's behalf?”

“She wouldn't. Unless she was kept away or, I don't know, was dead,” Wendy said. Then she frowned, taking in the overgrown yard and rotting home. Pale white lace curtains fluttered in the windows, long white sheers hung behind the shattered patio door. Even the buckets of flowers by the patio stairs, overgrown and wilted, browned in the hot sun, had once been white. “Wait. Are you telling me that
you're
—”

“I'm telling you nothing,” the White Lady interjected smoothly. “All I'm doing is pointing out that you've been taking too much at face value for some time now. Listening to one's mother is all well and good, but at some point you have to learn to think for yourself. I was watching you that day.” She drifted down the stairs past Wendy and, with a slight gesture, sent the rusting swing rattling in an arc. “You were so intent on ripping that ghost to shreds on your momma's orders, you didn't even think to ask the right questions.”

“Oh yeah? What should I have asked, then?” Wendy stiffened and stepped away from the White Lady. She was too close for comfort; a horrid odor of moss and rot permeated the air around her. “Let me guess. I should've made the grandma tell me how she was pushing the little girl?” She sneered. “Right.”

“It would have been a good start.” The White Lady caught the swing in one mottled hand. Her nails were long and yellow and curling, Wendy noted. Her bones peeped through the flesh as she slid into the seat of the swing and gently pushed off, letting the swing creak and groan as it carried her higher and higher. The edges of her hood fluttered in the breeze but didn't push back as she pumped her rotting legs harder, gaining momentum and height.

“Look, did this conversation have a point or something? Because if the only reason we're having this little chat is over something I didn't ask four years ago, well, that ship has sailed. It's not like I can go stomping into the Light, find Grandma, and ask her how she did her fancy magic trick.” Wendy crossed her arms over her chest and waited patiently as the White Lady, at swing's apex, pushed off the seat and floated to the ground. Gravity was on break in this dream; the White Lady hung in the air for a moment too long and reached the high grass several seconds too late.

Despite herself, Wendy smiled. “Nice jump.”

“Thank you.” The White Lady wiped one hand across the hip of her pristine cloak as she passed a rotting barbeque grill. “So messy! Honestly, some people just can't have nice things.”

The White Lady dusted her hands and crossed her arms over her chest. “The point of all this is that I thought that perhaps, after sharing my wisdom with you, you might actually be able to look past the terrible rumors that've been circulating about me and think for yourself for once. Make up your own mind.”

“I'm listening.”

“I thought that, perhaps, we trade instead of fight. A deal.”

“And now I'm leaving.” Wendy turned and began to head back toward the woods.

“Hear me out!”

“Go to hell, lady. I don't deal with the likes of you. We covered this already, remember?”

“Listen to me!” The White Lady darted in between her and the woods. “You're making more of a nuisance of yourself than usual. And I know for a fact that you haven't found your mother yet.”

“You haven't either. If you had, you'd have let me know by now. Rub it in my face, demand something impossible.” Wendy smirked. “Not really trying, are we?”

“Oh, believe me, I'm keeping my eyes peeled. All of them.” The White Lady laughed darkly. “I saw her once or twice. She moves quickly. And she knows the city well.”

“Oh yeah? Where?”

“That is for me to know, my dear, and you to find out. I may not have her in my hardworking but oh-so-delicate hands just yet, but I will. Mark my words, I'm closing in, and when I do you will beg me—beg me!—to have your mother's soul back.”

“Getting bored.” Wendy stepped around the White Lady and headed for the woods. “Good luck with all that. You just let me know if you can catch her, hmm? Until then, where was I? Oh yeah. Go to hell.”

“I may not have your mother's soul,” the White Lady called behind her, “but I sure as hell have Dunn's.”

Wendy froze. Sweat broke out all over her body as she struggled with the urge to turn and dive at the White Lady. Knowing her, she'd vanish and Wendy would end up with a face full of dirt for her troubles.

“You. Bitch. I will
end
you.”

“No, dear, you just wish you could end me.” The White Lady chuckled. “Here's the deal. You walk away from my Walkers and I won't rip the boy to shreds and send those shreds to the Riders in a pretty paper package. How does that sound, hmm?”

“What are you keeping him for anyway, you horrible cow?” Wendy turned around to find the White Lady less than a foot away. The smell of rot was blinding this close up; Wendy's eyes immediately watered. “You aren't feeding the Lost to the Walkers or you would've done it by now. You're keeping him for some reason. Why?”

“That, my dear, is for me to know and you to fret yourself over. Do we have a deal?”

Wendy stiffened. “I can't do that. I can't.” Her fists tightened. “But you better pray to whatever god you believe in that I don't spot your pasty ass on my rounds, lady. You've officially stepped all over my last nerve.”

“Ah, yes, I think I understand now. You're trying to protect the rest of them.” The White Lady chuckled. “I understand. It's a complicated choice. If you give in to me, then you've saved one soul but damned the rest. But if Dunn is sacrificed then you can still run free and attempt to stem the tide, maybe even keep my Walkers away from the other Lost. But it's already too late. My Walkers are numerous and growing by the day. I've already won, you and those pathetic Riders just don't know it yet.”

“I swear—”

“You swear nothing. You understand nothing.” The White Lady waved a hand. “I'm bored of this. This will take time for you to decide. I'm feeling particularly reasonable tonight. You have two weeks. Fourteen whole days, that's how generous I am. Sort out which is more important to you. The boy or,” she laughed, “the Rider.”

“I wish I could kill you twice,” Wendy said through gritted teeth. “And if I ever get to really lay hands on you, you'll regret it. I promise you that. You'll regret it.”

“Hmm. We'll see. I'll see myself out.”

Wendy woke moments later, drenched in sweat and crying angry tears. She didn't know what to do. Should she tell Piotr or should she handle the White Lady alone? And, more importantly, should she sacrifice Dunn?

Wendy flopped back on her pillow, wiping her tears away. She wished her mother were there. Mom would know what to do.

“Mom,” she whispered to the ceiling. “Where are you?”

K
nee-deep in Walker ashes, Wendy pulled in the Light and wrestled down the heat, flickering into view. Lately she'd spent so much time as the Lightbringer that shifting back to her physical form seemed like it was beginning to grow more difficult for her as the nights wore on, not easier. Though Eddie couldn't see the monsters his best friend had battled, he could tell that this fight had been a tough one by the way Wendy trudged back to the car.

“Rough night?” Eddie held out a cup of hot chocolate laced with amaretto, just the way she liked it, and sympathized as she sank into the passenger seat in a heap. Surreptitiously he glanced at the dashboard clock. Fifteen minutes to ten. Her reaping had run over.

“A whole cadre of Walkers was waiting for me. Near a bunch of people, too, and not a one of the Walkers burned! I swear they're totally multiplying,” she complained, taking the first sip and squinching up her nose. “Ugh, cold.”

“Yeah, well your ‘only ten minutes, I
promise
’ reap took forty,” Eddie chastised, finishing the last of his own coffee. He grimaced at the bitter dregs but swallowed them down. Someone around here had to show a good example. “I finished my coffee cold, so quit bitching and drink your cocoa already.”

“Mm, thank you,” she said. “Today sucked.”

“Looks like it.”

“I'm in English class, right? And a ghost walks through the wall and right up to me. How he knew I was there is beyond me but he followed me around all day, begging me to help him get into the Light. But I couldn't, right? Because, hello, I'm at
school
.”

“Ouch. So what'd you do?” Eddie reclined his seat and tilted his head back, enjoying the feeling of the cool evening breeze on his warm cheeks.

“I had to lead him into the girl's bathroom,” Wendy grumbled. “But it was so weird. I sent him into the Light, and right before he went he was crying. Crying and thanking me. Afterward I felt so much better, Eds. The Walkers are monsters, it's important to put them down, but actually helping regular ghosts out again…it's nice. I feel like an ass for quitting in the first place. This was what I'm made to do, right?”

Eddie hesitated. “Yeah. Right.”

“I am so-so-so very tired,” Wendy said, yawing. “On top of everything else, I've had nightmares every night this week. Mom, calling to me, trying to get me to find her, saying that she's trapped, that she's lost.” She rubbed her eyes. “I just want them to stop already.”

“Huh,” Eddie said, glancing at his watch. Part of him wanted to listen to her, hug her, tell her it'd be all right. The other part knew better. He wasn't going to fall for it this time—he'd promised. “You could, uh, try some Nyquil or something.”

“I don't have problems getting to sleep, it's staying asleep.”

He shrugged. “I don't know what to tell you. Maybe pick up a book on dream zen or something? Learn to be one of those dream master guys?”

“Working on it,” she muttered under her breath before taking a deep gulp of her drink. “So, um, Eddie? Have you noticed that my life's been sort of weird lately?”

Eddie grabbed the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. “Yeah. But you're preachin' to the choir there.” Desperately he added, “I told you about landing a date with Gina Biggs, right? Oh, man, that girl is so smoking hot!” He forced his fingers to release the wheel and straightened in his seat. “Forest fire hot.” Eddie chuckled, too loudly.

“Yeah,” Wendy murmured, “you told me before.” She ran her thumb around her lips, wiping away excess chocolate. “But, Gina's hotness aside…”

“You can't ignore how hot she is. It's impossible.”

“Eddie!” Wendy ground her teeth. “Enough about your…whatever she is, okay? Yes, she's sexy. Go you. I'm trying to talk to you here.”

“What? I'm listening.”

“No you're not, you're mooning over Gina Has-a-hot-ass.”

He sighed. “Wendy, just because you're jealous—”

“I'm not jealous! Why would you think I'm jealous?”

“I still love you, sweetie, you know that.” He patted her hand. “It's just, you know, you said that you and me weren't going to work out and a guy can't just sit at home and twiddle his thumbs waiting for you. I mean, I would, but…”

“We weren't going to work out. Aren't. Whatever.” Wendy groaned and buried her face in her hands. “Eddie, this isn't about Gina, okay! Just shut up already and listen to me!”

He settled back in his seat. “Fine, fine, I'm hearing you. No Gina talk. You've got my full attention. Go.”

She sighed. “With me, stuff's been weirder than normal. I mean really, really weird. With the ghost stuff, I mean.”

“Right-right, sure-sure,” Eddie said, waving his hand. “I get ya.”

Wendy took a deep breath, as if steeling herself for a negative reaction. “You know how I've been going out every night lately, right? Well, I—”

The alarm on his phone trilled a warning. Anxious that he might miss his phone date with Gina, Eddie lifted his arm and tapped his watch. “Hell, look at the time. If I don't get home soon my mom's gonna kill me.”

“Oh, okay.” Rubbing a hand over her eyes, Wendy gulped the rest of her drink down. When she finished, she wiped her mouth and belched. “Blame it on me.”

“I have been.” Eddie grimaced, now all nerves. He'd been meaning to bring this up for a few weeks now, but Wendy had been incommunicado, not up to their usual late-night texting chats, and certainly too sleepy and busy to talk with at school.

Twisting the key, Eddie started his car and fervently checked his mirrors, avoiding looking at Wendy while he said what he had to say. “Um, just to get this out there, if you keep up all this long-distance reaping, Mom says she's not going to let me hang out with you anymore. She's starting to talk about how you're a bad influence. Keeping me out to all hours on weeknights and stuff.”

At Wendy's dumbfounded look, Eddie waved his hands in protest. “I tell her she's wrong, of course! But you know what a pain in the butt moms…are.” He winced, and cursed himself for ten times a fool for bringing up his mother in particular, and mothers in general. “Sorry, Wendy. I didn't mean to go there.”

“It's cool.” Wendy shrugged, trying for nonchalance but clearly upset. “Moms are moms. It's not your fault, right?”

“It's not your fault either,” he reminded her, getting up the guts to look her in the face. “What happened to your mother wasn't.”

“Whatever.” Wendy checked the time on the dash and buckled up. “Come on, Eds, let's make tracks. I've got a date with geography and you've gotta get your pretty little butt home before Mommy Dearest goes all Mommy Dearest on you.”

“Wendy—”

“Move it, Jeeves, if you please.” Wendy rifled through her purse and pulled out a five, slapped open the glove compartment, and dropped the money inside. “Here. For the gas.”

Concerned, Eddie tried to catch her eye. “Hey, hey, you don't owe me anything, Wendy. I've never asked you for gas money.”

Wendy kept her face turned away. “Exactly, you've never asked. So after all these years I totally ought to throw at least a little scratch your way. Now vroom-vroom already. The hour groweth late and crap like that.” She sounded casual, but the cup in her grip told a different story; it had gone from a
venti
Styrofoam cup to a sticky ball in her fist.

At least she finished the hot chocolate
, Eddie thought to himself, and shifted the car into reverse. He'd scrub out any stains on Saturday before his Homecoming date with Gina, no problem.

A little worried but willing to let her mood slide, Eddie eyed the empty mall parking lot and started rolling toward home. He had plenty of time to worry about Wendy tomorrow, right? Truth be told, Eddie was glad to be taking her home early; the night was young and he still had a long evening ahead of him to spend flirting with the luscious little artist he intended to woo and win. Even though it killed him to be going out with Gina instead of Wendy, he had to move on. Wendy wasn't the only girl in the world. Still, the guilt niggled at the back of his mind.

With an annoyed grunt, Eddie headed home, the girl beside him weighing heavily on his mind.

When Wendy stomped into her room, she found Piotr waiting. He had a small cardboard shoebox in his hands. A swath of fabric dotted with the familiar acid-eaten holes peeked out at the top.

“You're here early.” Her phone beeped. Wendy glanced down:

IKssBoiz&Grls:
Was I being an ass? U still wanna talk? I'll tell Gina not 2nite.

Wendy hesitated then pressed
ignore.
Eddie would understand. Now wasn't the time.

“I had to see you right away.” Piotr held up the box. “I did not know you would be out, so I decided to wait.” He hesitated. “You were with Eddie, yes? Working?”

“Duh.” Wendy eyed the box. “So this thing sounds big. What's up?”

“Another kidnapping.”

“Who's missing?” she asked, dropping her bag to the floor. Jabber hissed—she'd inadvertently dumped her bag right on top of him. Head held high and tail stiff with disdain, the cat flounced through the bag and under the bed, pausing to swipe at her ankle as he departed.

“One of James' Lost,” Piotr said, setting the box on her desk. “Tommy. This was his jacket.”

Wincing at the thin sting Jabber's claws left, Wendy knelt down to rub her ankle, whistling at the bad news. These past weeks spent listening to Piotr's stories had advantages; she'd peripherally learned all about the other ghosts Piotr surrounded himself with, Lost and Rider alike, to the point where she felt like she could effortlessly list them off. The news struck her harder than she could ever have anticipated. She wondered again about Dunn, if the White Lady had meant her threats. “Tommy? Wasn't he once one of yours?”

Piotr nodded, lips tight. “A few decades ago. He got on better with James than he did with me. They were alive at the same time and James understood Tommy in a way I couldn't. They were friends.”

“Didn't James tell his Lost to stay close?”

Piotr's fist pounded his hip. “Tommy
was
close! He was dutiful, he wasn't like the others, he didn't wander off. Do you see? Elle turned her back for one minute and he was gone. Poof! Just gone.”

“And she couldn't track him?” Wendy lifted the ethereal fabric out of the box and examined it. Jacket, she noted, was too strong a word. It had probably been, in life, little more than a thin and moth-eaten cloak made of heavy linen. Now, with the familiar burn holes dotting the entire length, it appeared less like a garment and more like a slice of Swiss cheese.

“They hid their tracks very well. We found it torn up at the end of his trail.” Piotr punched the wall and, since his concentration was weak, his arm slid through the plaster almost to his elbow, sticking deeply in the wall. He scowled and, with effort, extracted his arm. “They are angling toward the city.”

Wendy sighed, nodded. “Tomorrow's a half day at school. I can take Caltrain up to the city and take a look around. See if I see anything different.”

“
Spaseebo balshoye,”
Piotr said gratefully. “Your aid is appreciated.”

“No problem. It's the least I can do,” Wendy said, folding the cloak and nestling it back in the box. Her phone beeped again.

IKssBoiz&Grls:
Hellloo? U awake? Srry bout Mom. Screw her. I'll still drive u anytime.

This time Wendy set her phone to silent and laid it on the corner of her desk. “Is there anything else you can tell me? Anything at all?”

“Only that there was a crowd.” Piotr sank onto the edge of the bed. “Walkers didn't walk in crowds before. Now they thrive on it.” He buried his face in his hands. “I don't know what to do! We sit like ducks, waiting to get picked off! One this week, two the next! Even gathered together we're not safe.”

The phone flashed as another text came in.

IKssBoiz&Grls:
Wendy? I'm sorry. Please call me. Please?

“Did they take him from Elle's place?” Wendy sat beside Piotr. She started to take his hand and then thought better of it. He seemed untouchable right now and she didn't want to push their boundaries. On the desk the phone flashed again. This time Wendy set it upside down. “Did they go inside?”

Piotr shook his head. “Tommy was fond of the roof. Some clear nights, the old theater will project classic movies on the wall across the wharf.”

“Was he up there alone?”

“Elle went with him but she turned to scout the far corner. When she turned back he was gone. She spotted a shadow moving south and gave chase but a block or two later she found Tommy's cloak. Nothing else. No trace of which way they went from there. Nothing.”

“It's not much, but it's a start,” Wendy said, guilt churning in her gut. She still hadn't told Piotr about the deadline the White Lady had set for her. He had no clue that Dunn might be in even more danger than he suspected. But it made no sense to her—why would the White Lady go to all the trouble of kidnapping the Lost and then do nothing but squirrel them away? Something about the whole mess smelled fishy. She just couldn't pinpoint what.

“Wendy, we can't take much more of this! You must help us,” Piotr cried, grabbing her by the wrist. This time his touch was not just cool but frigid and Wendy, startled by the sharp chill, yanked away. She rubbed her wrist, eyes wide with shock at the pain.