Everneath. Part 34

About ten minutes into Mrs. Stone's lecture on Walt Whitman's Leaves of Gra.s.s, Jack's phone vibrated in his hand, indicating a new email. He read the screen, and as he did his left foot started tapping.

"What is it?" I whispered.

"Professor Spears. Requesting an immediate phone call. He left his number."

I drew in a deep breath. I couldn't believe he had responded so quickly. This was it. Whatever that bracelet meant, it was important enough to warrant an immediate phone call with the head of the anthropology department at the university. Jack kept his eyes on Mrs. Stone as he typed a response under his desk.

"I told him we'd call at the end of cla.s.s," Jack whispered. "Doesn't Mrs. Stone have her second period free?"

I nodded.

"I want her here for this so she can back us up if we need it."

The minute hand on the wall clock decided to take the long way around, and the rest of cla.s.s dragged. When the bell finally rang, Jack and I sprinted to Mrs. Stone's desk.

"Professor Spears wants to talk," Jack blurted out, his thumb already on the keypad of his phone. "I'm calling him."

Mrs. Stone pulled her eyebrows together and said, "I don't think-" She didn't finish, because Jack had pressed send and it was ringing.

"You talk," Jack said, handing the phone to Mrs. Stone. "Please."

We were silent as we listened to Mrs. Stone's end of the conversation. Jack nearly ripped the desk in half as Mrs. Stone asked about the professor's current research, but then it sounded like Professor Spears cut it short. Mrs. Stone stopped talking and handed the phone to Jack. "He wants to talk to you."

Jack took it. "h.e.l.lo, Professor Spears. Thanks for calling-" Jack looked at me as he listened. "Okay, do you mind if I put you on speaker?"

He put the phone down on the desk between us.

"You were saying?" Jack said.

Professor Spears's voice crackled through the line. "I'm wondering where you got this bracelet. It's a copy, correct?"

"A copy of what?"

"I know of only one like it in existence, and it's in storage at the Smithsonian. The design is not something you'd expect everyday jewelers to replicate." He paused and sounded a little like he was chuckling. "It's just that your picture almost makes it look authentic-or, at the very least, an expensive replica- and I wondered where you got it."

Jack ignored his question. "We thought the symbols had something to do with the five parts of the Egyptian soul. Is that right?"

"Yes, but that's only the beginning of the meaning behind the markings. It's the position of each picture on the bracelet that tells the story. The bracelet refers to an ancient civilization called the Ring of the Dead."

"What does that mean?" Jack interrupted.

"I'm getting to that. Do you see how the sheut, the ren, and the ba are grouped together?"

We were both silent, staring at the picture. "Um..." Jack said.

"The sheut, the shadow figure. The ren, the name. And the ba, the personality. Got it?"

"Yes," I said. I didn't think we had much choice in the matter.

"And in the center, we see the ib, or the heart; it looks like a pot." Jack and I both nodded, even though Professor Spears couldn't see us. "And on the other end is the ka. The life force. The entire picture represents those humans who have discovered the key to eternal life, by giving up their own kas, or life forces, and stealing the kas of others. So the bracelet has to do with the royalty of the Ring of the Dead. The Akh ghosts. Or Everlivings, as some more contemporary studies have deemed them. Of course, these are all fringe theories."

My heart sped up. Everlivings. I couldn't believe there were actually people out there who knew about them. "Keep going, please, Professor Spears," I whispered.

"You see, ancient myth has us believe death can occur only when the ka leaves the body. Akh ghosts replenish their kas constantly, and therefore the ka never leaves their bodies and death cannot touch them."

My mouth opened a bit, and I looked at Jack. Even Mrs. Stone had taken an interest in the conversation. She sat in a desk behind Jack, listening.

"Akh ghosts are sort of a popular legend in anthropology circles." He chuckled softly. "Some of my own colleagues believe Akh ghosts wander the face of the earth today. I think it adds to their zeal for our area of study..."

I stopped listening as Professor Spears told of the quirks of some of his colleagues. I only tuned in again when he said, "Where did you get the replica, by the way? Its likeness to the one stored at the Smithsonian is extraordinary. If possible, I'd love the chance to have a look at it."

"Tourist knockoff," Jack said.

"You're in Park City, are you not? Why would a town focused on a tourist trade of American Indian artifacts have a bracelet with ancient Egyptian roots?"

"Because tourists don't know the difference."

"Maybe," Professor Spears conceded. "But I'd still like to talk to the shop owner. Perhaps he received inspiration from something else in his possession, and maybe he doesn't know what he has. Museum artifacts are found this way all the time. Someone buys a house and finds something in the attic, or buried in the backyard." He paused, waiting for an answer.

I narrowed my eyes at Jack, and he raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

I answered. "I got the bracelet from a friend, so I'll have to ask her."

"One last question, if you have a moment..." Jack said.

"Shoot."

"How do you kill an Akh ghost?"

There was a pause on the phone line. "Uh, are you serious?"

"It's for a paper." Jack sounded so convincing, even I believed him for a second. "Theoretically, how would it happen?"

"Joyce, what kind of a.s.signments are you handing out these days?"

We both looked at Mrs. Stone. She leaned toward the phone as if it were a microphone. "It's extra credit. Trust me, Jack needs it." She winked at Jack.

"Well, as the image shows, the Akh ghost existence is based on a perfect balance, this exact configuration of the five elements. If one of them were to throw the others out of balance ... if the Akh ghost no longer had access, say, to other people's kas. Other people's energy."

I felt my shoulders sag. There was no way we could prevent Cole from Feeding off others.

Jack must've thought the same thing, because he asked, "What about the heart? Why is it separate but in the middle?"

"Because it's not part of the being, but it's nearby."

"Can they live without it?"

I jerked my head at Jack, but he was staring intently at the phone.

The line crackled, as if Dr. Spears had breathed deeply into the receiver. "I guess not. But you must find out where the heart beats first. Hypothetically."

We were all quiet for a moment. Mrs. Stone looked at Jack and he nodded. She leaned forward again and said, "Thank you again, professor."

"Of course, Joyce. And, kids, if you find out where exactly the bracelet comes from, please do let me know."

We hung up the phone. We were going after Cole's heart.

THIRTY-ONE.

NOW.

Jack's car. Thirty-six hours left.

We walked out of the school and straight to Jack's car. He turned on the engine and the heat. I looked back at the school, aware that I probably wouldn't set foot inside it again.

"What do you think, Becks?" Jack said.

I turned away from the building. "Cole always tells me he has a heart, but it's not inside him. I've even listened to his chest. There's nothing there."

"If it's not inside him, it's gotta be near him. We just have to figure out where it is. Professor Spears was right about the life force stuff. We have to a.s.sume he's right about the heart, too, which means it's valuable to Cole. So valuable that he would protect it with everything he has."

"Maybe it's locked away in a vault or something? Like in an urn." I could only imagine a shrunken actual heart, but perhaps I was being too literal.

"But the band moves around so much," Jack countered. "I'd guess it would be in something portable. Not as fragile as an urn."

"Wait," I said. Something portable. Something valuable. Something he protects and keeps with him always. Something as important to him as my own hands were to me. "His guitar." I got excited thinking about it.

"His guitar." Jack repeated the words, as if trying them out.

"He takes it everywhere. And once, when I touched it, he freaked out." I remembered the day in my bedroom when I'd clawed at the strings. "I should've seen it before. He uses music to stir the emotions and circulate the life force of the audience, just before he steals energy. It's like an actual heart; the center of the circulatory system. Pumping the nourishment. I watched him do it. It's his guitar..." I stopped talking. Jack was staring at my arm, his eyes wide.

"What?" I demanded.

"The fingers. I can see them moving."

I looked down at the mark, which was visible beneath the thin cotton of my s.h.i.+rt. It was halfway between my elbow and my wrist. I didn't see it at first, but as I stared, I saw the line creeping.

"Mary said it would speed up," I said.

Jack was quiet for a moment, staring at it. Then his arms were around me and he crushed me into him. "I can't lose you again, Becks."

"You're not going to."

This time, though, I actually believed it might be possible.

Jack drove us to Grounds&Ink. His left leg never stopped bouncing. When we found a booth, he ordered two coffees.

"Make them decaf," I said to the waitress.

Jack nodded. When the server left, he said, "We've got to figure out a way to separate Cole from his guitar." The words spilled out of his mouth and ran together.

"Do you think it's just a matter of getting it away from him?" I asked.

"We find it, steal it, and then smash it."

I laughed a desperate sound. "So all we have to do is find Cole, get close enough to him that we can steal his guitar- without him knowing it-and then smash it. And we have twenty-four hours." I tilted my head back and looked at the ceiling.

"I know how we can get close to him," Jack said quietly.

"How?"

"We give him the one thing he wants." He was staring at his hand as he flicked his ring finger with his thumb.

"Me."

He nodded, still not looking at me. "And then I think I know someone who would love to smash a guitar."

We left the coffee shop and Jack drove me to my house. We had decided to wait until the next morning to go to Cole's place. It was my idea, in case we failed. I couldn't stand the thought of waiting those last few hours for the Tunnels. If our plan didn't work, I wanted the Tunnels to get me that very instant.

Jack pulled over in front of my house. My dad's car was in the driveway. He and Tommy were home from the Silver Lodge.

"Um ... where will you..." I bit my lip.

"I'll be in your room. Don't lock the window." He touched his lips and then touched my hand.

I nodded and got out of the car. My father, Tommy, and I ate a simple dinner that night. French toast. Breakfast for dinner. Just what the mayor needed after a tiring campaign. When I first got to the Everneath, I sometimes pictured what I would say to my dad and Tommy if I had the chance. But imagining the scene was very different from living it.

Tonight I had nothing to say. No wisdom to impart. No tearful good-byes. I had once had the words, but now they fell through me, as if I were a defunct sieve. Just one more ordinary dinner, in our ordinary kitchen, under ordinary circ.u.mstances. As if nothing were different.

I realized then that my Return had been painful. More painful than I ever could have imagined, with birthdays of Tommy's that I'd never get to see, and the inauguration of my dad that I wouldn't be able to attend, and good-byes I'd never be able to say.

But it'd been beautiful, too. The moments I could cling to, like the touch of Tommy's golden hair beneath my fingers, and the sound of my dad's voice as he talked to my mom when he thought no one else was listening.

When we were done, I hurried and did the dishes, and then I hugged Tommy and said good night.

"You never hug," Tommy said.

I kissed the top of his head, scruffed up his hair. If this worked, I would do everything I could to make life normal for my little brother. I headed down the hall to my room, opened the door, and shut it behind me.

Jack was lying on his back on my bed, his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Without a word, I laid down next to him, facing him. He turned to look at me.