Betrayal Page 3

  Bennett told the cabdriver to stop at the corner, and we grabbed our bags and stood on the sidewalk in the powdery snow. My senses flared at the sights and sounds, and I almost staggered under the impact of all the spirits lingering along the streets.

  Two male ghosts in navy uniforms passed a flapper from the twenties, who winked gaily at a young ghost who looked like he’d died in some kind of disco accident. The ghosts roamed in packs of two and three, greeting each other and commenting on the snow, and generally acting as though they weren’t dead.

  “Pretty intense, huh?” Bennett said.

  “Wait—is that Elvis?”

  “What would Elvis be doing here?” he scoffed. “That’s just a chubby guy with muttonchops and a white jumpsuit.”

  He led me down the cobblestoned street, past narrow brownstones with ornate wrought-iron fences and with ancient trees growing between the sidewalks.

  “So, is this whole block ghostkeepers?” I said.

  “Yeah, mostly people involved with the Knell.”

  As dusk crept over the rooftops, I watched a ghost boy who looked like Nicholas climb a streetlamp, light a long match, and fiddle with the glass. The lamp lit instantly—but from electricity, not his flame.

  “I don’t get it,” I said. “They’re not like the ghosts in Echo Point.” Or even the ones I remembered from my childhood, before my parents had my ability suppressed. “It’s like they don’t know they’re dead.”

  “Maybe it’s the street,” he said. “Or the Knell, or how many ghostkeepers live here. No one’s really sure why, but they almost forget they’re ghosts.”

  We passed a small private park where a few old spirits played chess at tables under the streetlamps. A younger one moved a rook. He was eccentrically dressed and somehow familiar.

  I stopped and stared. “Is that …?”

  “The actor?” A movie star who’d recently died of an overdose. “Yeah.”

  “Have you asked if it was suicide or an accident?”

  He looked at me. “No.”

  “Oh, right.” Communicating was my thing, not his.

  The block dead-ended at a white stone behemoth of a house, with columns and turrets and arches, and things that might’ve been flying buttresses, for all I knew. It looked like an institution, but there was no sign; instead, ornate iron gates and heavy trees stood guard.

  “What did it used to be?” I asked, expecting Bennett to say it belonged to the first governor of New York or a Rockefeller or, I don’t know, the pope.

  “It’s always been the Knell.”

  We headed toward the gate; then Bennett stopped and gave me a strange look, one I couldn’t decipher.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I should’ve prepared you.” He tilted his head. “I didn’t tell you before, because I didn’t know how, but there’s something inside. You’re not going to like it.”

  “Well, that’s nice and cryptic.” I took a steadying breath. “It doesn’t matter. As long as they help us find Neos and my family.”

  Then the iron gates swung open and the house received us.

  3

  A ghost servant stood beside the door, dressed in what I thought was called livery. Bennett and I handed him our coats and I thanked him, but he didn’t respond.

  “Could he not hear me?” I asked Bennett after the servant drifted away. I was used to ghosts being pleased when I communicated with them.

  “He probably could. I told you, they’re different here.”

  “You mean rude.”

  “I mean different.”

  “Well, it’s pretty different that nobody’s here to meet us. Don’t we have an appointment?”

  “They know we’re here. They’ll send for us when Yoshiro’s ready.”

  So we wandered the halls, waiting for a human to greet us—I mean a living human.

  One thing you could say about ghostkeepers: they liked their artifacts. The inside of the Knell could’ve passed for a museum. Not like Bennett’s house, which resembled a period-piece movie set; this was more like the Met. Ornate furnishings dotted the immaculate marble floor and left plenty of room for bronze sculptures, oil paintings, and antiquities on pedestals. The lighting was low, protecting the art and Oriental rugs, and creating a fittingly spooky ambience.

  I ran a finger along the etching of an ivory box. My skin began to tingle and I quickly pulled my hand away. I sometimes sensed the memories of antiques like these, impressions of the people who once owned them. In the case of my namesake, the first Emma, I actually relived her experience, and I was afraid something like that might happen here.

  And sure enough, I sensed something calling to me from one of the rooms. Not a ghost, but an object tugging at my attention.

  “Um, Emma?” Bennett said. “Where are you going?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I followed my instincts, winding down wood-paneled hallways until I stood in a dark room, almost empty except for a tapestry on one wall and a blue velvet Victorian settee in the middle of the room, inviting you to sit and admire the intricate weaving.

  “This is it, isn’t it?” I said, mesmerized by the tapestry. “The thing you should’ve told me about.”

  “Uh-huh.” Bennett grew still, watching me, gauging my reaction.

  The tapestry reminded me of the famous Lady and the Unicorn tapestries. We’d had a print of one of them in our hallway when I was a child. The colors and patterns were the same. The rich golds and burgundies, dark blue and forest green, the moons, trees, flowers, even the bunnies. A light-haired woman stood in the middle of this one, dressed in a red medieval gown, a sword held protectively across her body.

  But instead of interacting with the animals, she was circled by ghosts in different guises: in human form, wraiths, and what I guessed were ghasts, though I’d never seen one. One of the ghosts was even a serpent, delicately woven into the fabric.

  “Is that Emma?” I asked. Because she looked exactly like her—like me.

  “Yeah, just not the Emma from Echo Point. This tapestry is centuries older than her, probably medieval European.”

  My Emma lived in the late 1700s, which meant that this tapestry was almost five hundred years old. “But—”

  “She’s a mirror image of you,” a woman’s voice said behind us.

  I turned too quickly and caught a glimpse of the woman before the world started tilting. I stumbled, and Bennett took my arm and helped me to the settee. He crouched in front of me, holding my hands in his, his eyes concerned.

  “Take a deep breath,” the woman told me. “You’ve had a shock.”

  “I’ve got it,” Bennett snapped at her. “I’m sorry, Emma. I should’ve told you. But we don’t really know what it is or what it means. And I didn’t want you to … to take it too seriously.”

  I touched his shoulder briefly. “It’s okay. I’m not sure knowing it was here would’ve prepared me, anyway. It’s not every day you discover you’re the reincarnation of Emma the Ghostslayer.”

  “It’s striking, isn’t it?” the woman said to Bennett. “Yoshiro says that Emma is the only ghostkeeper who can stop Neos—which is odd, given she’s so new to her powers. But when you see her resemblance to the lady in the tapestry, all that power, distilled through the ages, leaping from bloodline to bloodline.” She turned to me. “Until finally settling in you. I begin to think Yoshiro’s right.”

  “Who are you?” I asked, eying the woman. She looked about my parents’ age, tall and dark haired with hazel eyes. And vaguely familiar. “Do I know you?”

  She smiled in surprise. “Actually, yes—though we haven’t met since you were a little girl. Or maybe it’s simply innate recognition.”

  “Because we’re both ghostkeepers?”

  “No,” she said, “because we’re family.”

  “I don’t have family,” I told her. “Only my parents and brother. My grandparents died before I was born, my mom’s an only child, and my dad’s not in touch with—”
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br />   “His sister,” she finished.

  “Wait,” I said. “You’re my dad’s sister?”

  Bennett glared at her. “You never told me this.”

  She nodded. “I’m your aunt.”

  “Rachel?” I asked, astonished. She looked a little like my father around the eyes and in the way she smiled.

  Her face glowed with pleasure, and she stepped forward like she wanted to hug me. I would’ve let her, except Bennett was glowering—and I was trying to remember why she and my father weren’t in touch anymore.

  Instead of the hug, she sat beside me and squeezed my arm. “I’m so pleased to finally meet you—again.” She laughed. “The last time I saw you, you were still in diapers.”

  Great. Just how I wanted Bennett picturing me: in princess-themed Pampers. At least he hadn’t kept this from me. The tapestry paled in comparison. Rachel seemed okay and all, but did I really need an unexpected aunt cluttering up my life? I had enough going on with dead friends, ghostly vendettas, and an untouchable boyfriend.

  “Do my parents know you’re in the Knell?” I asked. “Where are they? Does my brother, Max, know about you?”

  “Wait, wait—one question at a time,” she said.

  “I’ve got one,” Bennett said, his face hard. “Do the others know you’re her aunt? I don’t like this, Rachel—springing this on Emma without any warning. She’s been through enough surprises already.”

  “This is a family matter.”

  “It’s a Knell matter,” he said. “Let’s bring this to Yoshiro and William and Gabriel, then we’ll all hear you answer Emma’s questions.”

  “They know. I wanted a moment to speak with her privately,” she said.

  “Emma doesn’t need—”

  I cut him off. “I’m good, Bennett. I want to talk to her. She’s family and the only one who hasn’t run out on me. Well, if you don’t count when I was a baby.” Plus, for all I knew she was the key to Max’s and my parents’ disappearance. “You go ahead; tell them we’ll be there soon.”

  “You sure?”

  I gave him a look. I liked how protective he was, but I needed to do this on my own, and I sensed Rachel wouldn’t talk with him around.

  He smiled wryly, reading my expression. “Okay,” he said. “Back in five minutes.”

  After he left, I turned to Rachel and waited for her to begin, conscious of a vague feeling of disquiet. Maybe due to the tapestry or the proximity of so many ghostkeepers. Or maybe I was just picking up on Rachel’s anxiety.

  She licked her lips and looked from the tapestry back to me. “Your father didn’t take your mother’s powers, Emma. Neos did. They—we were all working for the Knell, the four of us as a team. Nobody dispelled ghasts better than we did.” Her eyes flashed at the memory. “Then your mother and Neos fell in love, and she started losing her powers. When she became a liability, the Knell wanted her out. Neos immersed himself in the old lore, searching for a way to help her regain her abilities, but nothing worked. He even dabbled in Asarum.”

  “What’s that, some kind of satanic rite?”

  “It’s an herb that boosts ghostkeeping powers. Extremely addictive—and dangerous.” She shook her head. “Neos grew more and more distraught and guilty and he started to change. He became … twisted. Obsessed with the old lore, with the powers. Finally, your mother left him and started an affair with my brother.”

  Ick. I held up a hand. “I don’t need the details.”

  “No.” She frowned. “It’s not something I like to think about, either.”

  I waited, but she just sat there staring into space. Finally, I said, “And then?”

  She jerked slightly. “Oh! Well, your father thought that the Knell mistreated Jana—your mother. Tossing her aside when she wasn’t useful anymore.”

  “And you?” I asked.

  “I thought … I thought Jana had been unfair to Neos. He loved her so much, he’d lost his mind trying to save her.” She licked her lips again. “I tried to get Nathan, your father, to break it off with her.”

  My parents were the madly-in-love types, as close as any couple I’d ever seen. It had always been obvious to me and Max that their relationship came first, that we were just a by-product. “He’d never do that,” I said.

  “No,” Rachel agreed. “He accused me of only having the Knell’s interests at heart, of not caring about him or Jana.”

  We sat in silence a moment. “You two haven’t spoken since I was a baby?” I asked.

  “I tried to apologize but … in the end, he was right. After we fought, I lost myself in the Knell.” She smiled tentatively. “Which is why I’m so happy you’re here. You’re like a second chance. I never meant to hurt your parents,” she said, leaning forward intently. “I loved them. I hope you believe that.”

  “Sure,” I said. Like me and Max. We fought sometimes, but we always loved each other. Even if he did totally bail on me when I needed him most. “Did the lady in the tapestry have a brother who looked like Max? I mean, is that normal, for a ghostkeeper to look so much like her ancestors?”

  “She’s my ancestor, too.” Rachel’s gaze grew hard. “I don’t look like her. But then—”

  She stopped as Bennett came back.

  “Yoshiro’s ready for us,” he said.

  I smiled at him, and not only from affection but also from relief. I wasn’t sure how I felt about Rachel. I had to admit, I could use an aunt, since my parents were AWOL. But there was something disconcerting about her, like she wasn’t quite comfortable in her own skin. Maybe she was just worried that I’d hate her like my father had.

  “Are we ready for him?” I asked, standing.

  “He’s quite formidable,” Rachel said. “But don’t let him intimidate you.”

  “As long as he can help me, I don’t care.”

  “If he can’t help,” Bennett said, “nobody can.”

  “Yoshiro’s the heart of the Knell.” Rachel put her hand on my arm, ushering me toward the door. “Well, maybe not the heart—more the brain.”

  “You’re getting a rare audience, meeting him in person,” Bennett said. “I’ve only seen him once. Usually he stays in his archives.”

  But I wasn’t listening; I was staring at Rachel’s hand. My skin felt tingly under her palm, almost like I was touching a ghost, and I jerked away.

  “I’m sorry.” She smiled apologetically as we headed into the hallway. “I don’t know why that happens. I’m a communicator, but sometimes my power gives off static shocks. Or spectral shocks, I suppose.”

  I glanced at Bennett for reassurance, but he seemed preoccupied, like he was marshaling his strength to meet Yoshiro. I wished we could hold hands.

  I nodded vaguely at Rachel, caught between my pleasure at reuniting with a long-lost relative and my sense that she wasn’t quite … normal. Maybe she seemed a little off because she was family. I’d need to get used to the idea.

  So I decided to like her. Finally, a family member who was still willing to talk to me. That had to be a good thing, right?

  As we headed upstairs, Rachel confided about how daunting she found Yoshiro, until we stopped outside a set of elaborately carved wooden double doors. A couple of male ghost servants stood on either side of the door, as though guarding the room. “I don’t mean to frighten you,” she said. “You’ll be fine.”

  “Emma’s not afraid of anything,” Bennett said.

  I took a deep breath, hoping he was right.

  I smiled at one of the ghosts, but he ignored me while the other opened the door. After that, I expected a throne room or something, but Bennett led me into a small chamber, decorated like a library where you’d find Sherlock Holmes solving the case. It was all cherrywood, leather-bound books, and red and gold Oriental rugs with a fire blazing in the ornately carved fireplace.

  Three men sat on leather couches, taking in the heat of the fire. They stood as we entered, and the oldest, an Asian man wearing wire-rim glasses, his long gray hair in a ponytail, ste
pped forward.

  “Emma Vaile,” he said, subjecting me to an unsmiling inspection. “You are not as impressive as I’d imagined.”

  “You must be Yoshiro,” I said, with a fake smile. “I thought you’d be taller.”

  Beside him, the dark-haired younger man coughed, smothering a laugh, then introduced himself as Gabriel. He had a Spanish accent, and the sort of smoldering spark of one of those ugly European guys who’s somehow incredibly attractive.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Emma,” he said. For the record, “Emma” sounded really pretty with a Spanish accent.

  “Welcome to the Knell,” the third man said, a middle-aged black man dressed in intellectual chic. “My name is William. I remember your mother and father fondly.”

  “Thanks. It’s kind of hard to imagine them here.”

  Yoshiro cleared his throat. “Sit.”

  I almost said something snotty about barking and rolling over, but Bennett nudged me toward one of the couches. Everyone sat except Yoshiro, who paced for a minute, then turned suddenly and considered me.

  “Except for your youth, your likeness to the tapestry is exact.”

  “And my hairstyle.” She looked like me dressed up for a Renaissance fair. “It doesn’t mean anything. It’s genetics. Probably happens all the time, except other people don’t have medieval tapestries lying around.”

  “Yoshiro believes it’s more than that,” Gabriel said.

  “Your powers are unprecedented,” William said. “And your resemblance to at least two dead ghostkeepers is also unprecedented. That’s not a coincidence.”

  “Maybe not. But I’m not the first Emma, I’m not that medieval lady. I’m just a—” I looked at Yoshiro. “An unimpressive girl who doesn’t want to battle ghosts and kill wraiths. There’re only three things I want. To find my family. Dispel Neos. And to—” I stopped suddenly, and didn’t know where to look.

  “Yes?” Yoshiro said. “The third thing?”