Beautiful Dead 02 - Arizona (23 page)

tilted his head back. In another second I reckon he would have lashed out at me with that massive fist.

But along came Jon Jackson, toting a shotgun. He aimed it straight at me. I stared down that long barrel and calmly thought, So this is what it's like. My last moments, stretching out in slow motion, yel ow grass rustling by the roadside, a plane leaving a white trail in the cornflowerblue sky.

Knowing now what his brother-in-law had done out at Hartmann, Kyle strode between me and Jackson. He grasped the gun and wrenched it from 1s9

his hands, turned it on his brother-in-law and pressed the barrel against

his chest.

Kyle, don't - I don't believe you!' Jackson gasped. But he was scared

- you could see the fear, and smel it like they say you can.

Keppler backed him down the road, the gun at his chest. Hunter kept me and Arizona fixed to the spot.

'Kyle, you saw how Arizona acted - she was like a wild thing. What else could I do?'

It's a terrible thing to hear a guy plead for his life and to feel no sympathy. I so wanted Kyle to pul that trigger, I admit.

You said she drowned.' Kyle wasn't listening to Jackson. He stil held the image of him battering Arizona against the tree, hauling her to the edge of the lake and throwing her in thud and splash.

'It happened - I didn't plan it. We got the boy back into town and dumped him there without anyone seeing us, didn't we? We walked away.

God knows how empty and hopeless it feels to have the lethal steel

pressed to your heart, to have words pouring out of your mouth, knowing that they're a waste of your final breaths.

Kyle's back was turned to Hunter, Arizona and me. We didn't see his face as he squeezed the trigger and the sound brought people to their doors. It stopped the traffic which headed to and from the freeway.

In a way that gunshot ended it. In another way, it didn't.

Personal y, I wil never forget the car-stopping blast from the gun and

the way it echoed up and down Daler Street. It lives on in my mind and

the minds of everyone who heard it.

Jon Jackson staggered. His knees buckled and he fel on his back. Keppler threw the gun aside.

Anyone witnessing it from the outside would say the kil er's next reaction was weird. They saw him bend double as if in pain, rock on his heels and twist in his effort to get away from the scene, though his legs 160

wouldn't carry him and his features froze in an agonized mask. He spun and almost fel on to the dead man, but regained his balance just in time.

Only Arizona, Phoenix and I knew this was Hunter's work. We

watched him wipe his victim's memory clean of the time-trip to Hartmann exactly one year plus seven days ago to the minute.

Now he would never know why he'd shot Jackson. How crazy is that?

The shrinks would describe it as unaccountable rage, perhaps fuel ed by alcohol and a secret grudge against Jackson which Keppler refused to reveal. They might label him psychotic - unable to recognize the

consequences of his actions - and offer him psychiatric treatment while they locked him up.

The sirens sounded. Arizona, Hunter, Phoenix and I stil had our

wings. We hovered above the houses, watching the cops establish a crime scene and drive Keppler away.

Hunter al owed Arizona one last visit to her beloved Raven.

He sent us - her and me - from Daler Street to the Taylors' Mountain Living home so that she could see for herself there was a way forward.

It was me knocking on the door of 2850 North 22 Street, minus my

wings, with an invisible Arizona at my shoulder.

To my surprise, it was Peter Hal who let me into the house. 'How come you're back?' I asked.

'A miracle - Al yson had a change of heart.' With a wry grin, the old man led me across the vast lobby. 'Frank's here too. Plus, the Arizona photographs came out of storage.'

Sure enough, her incredibly photogenic face stared out from brushed silver frames. A large, life-size portrait hung over the stone fireplace.

During her last minutes on earth, my Beautiful Dead friend was breathing fast, treading silently beside me.

'So, wil they stil sel the house and move away?' I asked. 161

Which was when Al yson and Frank emerged from his music room. I'd like to say there was a transformation here too - that they were relaxed and happy, with warm smiles on their faces and a welcoming light in their eyes. But no - they both looked strained, drained, uncertain and mixed up.

Al yson picked up the thread. ' Everything is under discussion,' she

told me. 'The house, our marriage everything.'

At least they were talking. And for me this added up to another miracle.

'The focus has to be on Raven,' Al yson insisted. 'He's been through a

lot. We feel we need to offer him more stability - stick to his routine, surround him by familiar objects.'

'And people,' Frank added. 'My wife tel s me you paid him a visit. He seems to have formed an attachment.'

Al yson managed to smile. 'Quite literal y,' she recal ed. 'Raven grabbed a hold of Darina's jacket and no way could I get him to let go.'

'So we're glad for you to cal by whenever you like.' Frank led the way through to the back of the house and a big expanse of wooded garden, which overlooked a cool, long distance view of Amos Peak.

I spotted Raven sitting in the shade of an aspen tree, his dark-blue jacket zippered tight under his chin. For a second I was anxious as I felt Arizona leave my side and head towards him.

Maybe she reached out and touched his face. I saw him raise his hand

to his cheek and brush something away once, twice, three times.

'Raven, Arizona's friend cal ed by to see you,' Al yson told him.

He blinked and jerkily turned his head in my direction. It took him a while but then he slid me into a memory slot that seemed to make some sense. He got up and walked to me.

'Hey,' I said.

He blinked again. Slowly he put his hand in his pocket, pul ed out a piece of neatly folded paper and handed it to me.

I unfolded it. Look, I wanted to tel Arizona - it's the picture he drew ofyou! I held the drawing in trembling hands.

Boy, did those aspen leaves quiver and shake - Arizona sighing as if her heart would break. But at least she knew that her parents weren't about to lock her brother up and throw away the key.

Then Raven led the way back into the house. He grabbed my hand and

showed me the photographs of his sister restored to the shelves and tables. We stood a long time under the one that hung over the fireplace. It showed something unusual - Arizona smiling. Yes, real y. Her hair was glossy, dark and perfect. She wore a silver choker necklace and big hooped earrings. And she was happy.

'Cool,' I told Raven.

They said his brain couldn't relate to facial expressions but I have an issue with that.

Standing there, gazing up at the portrait with Arizona standing invisible beside him, I say Raven total y knew what that smile meant, that it came from his sister's heart and would be there every time he walked through the lobby and looked up into her amazing, almond-shaped green eyes.

You have your justice and your freedom,' Hunter told Arizona. No one promised it wouldn't taste bitter.'

He had given us a few moments back at Foxton before Arizona left for good.

The Beautiful Dead gathered inside the barn, seeming to need the safety and shelter of the shadowy building.

Eve and Donna stood close by her side. Summer held her hand. Standing with a silent Phoenix I felt sad and heart-sick for her.

Arizona hung her head. 'Back there at Hartmann I saw myself for what I real y was eaten up by jealousy, selfish, stupid ...'

'A human being,' Hunter said without judging, walking out of the 163

barn.

The door closed and I wondered when I would see him again.

'Hunter's right,' Summer said. 'We've al acted that way.'

'I put Raven's life at risk. I was so needy. I hate that.' Don 't! I thought. Don't beat yourself up.

Phoenix read my mind and gestured for the others to leave us alone. 'I won't be far away,' he whispered to me as he too left. Soon the barn was deserted except for me and Arizona. We stood in the cool shadows, me trying to slip in under the barrier of self-hatred that Arizona had built up again.

'I plan to visit Raven again maybe tomorrow,' I told her quietly. 'I'l take some new Warhol pictures for him to look at.' It was the best way I knew to final y set her free.

Slowly she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and said the three simple words that meant everything to me. 'Thank you, Darina.'

'He knows me,' I insisted. 'You saw that he links me with you.'

'You're right,' she agreed. Her time was up. She was slipping away.

'I'l talk to him about you,' I promised. 'I can't be his shadow, like you wanted to be. But I'l keep on tel ing him how you loved him and always wil .

How you were a strong and crazy girl, how I got to understand and admire you in a way I never believed I would.'

Arizona stared deep into my eyes. 'Sorry, Darina. I gave you a hard

time.'

'You did. Now I know why.'

'I never ...' She searched for the right words. 'I never exactly got my balance right when I was alive. I was always, always teetering on the edge of that ledge, ready to fal .'

I nodded, no words necessary on my part. Anyway, she could read my mind.

'You know what that's like,' she noted, as a wind came into the barn 164

and gently opened then shut the door. 'You know it leads you into making desperate choices.'

'Sometimes.'

'I mean Kyle,' she explained.

'But not Phoenix,' I argued, as he walked back in. I smiled at him. 'He happens to be the best choice I made in my whole life.'

'I want to second that,' he told me. And he grasped my hand like he would never let go.

Arizona sighed. 'Lucky you, Darina. And yet you lost him.'

Phoenix kept tight hold of me. It gave me strength. I spoke to him, not Arizona. 'Then I found you again. Out here at Foxton, for twelve months.'

'A whole year,' he promised.

I stared into his pale-blue eyes, shimmering crystal clear like lake water. 'And soon I get to work with you to solve your mystery - to find out why you died.'

Phoenix lifted my hand to his pale, cold cheek. 'You'l set me free,' he sighed. Then he turned to include Arizona. 'Darina and I get to go with you to Hartmann,' he told Arizona.

We stood by the icy shore as the sun went down. Phoenix held my hand while we watched Arizona wade out into the water.

The lake stretched for ever, the trees on the far shore were lost in a grey mist.

She was waist-deep, her fingertips skimming the surface. She half turned to look at us.

Her long hair was black, her angel wings pure white.

'Go!' we whispered.

She turned and looked ahead. Hartmann was vast and silent.

Then the mist drifted in from the far shore. It shrouded Arizona and took her away.

Phoenix and I looked for her in the mist for a long time, listened for

any sound, standing hand in hand, knowing that she was gone from the

far side.

'Let's go,' I told Phoenix at last.

Read on for a sneak peek of Book 3: Summer 165

Who decides what's normal and what's not?

People around here sigh and say, 'No one died in six months, thank God. Maybe the worst is over.'

I say, 'Wait, it's not finished, not by a long way.'

'No one else died. Now we can get our lives back on track.'

'Ride the bus into school, why don't you? Go to work, don't dwel on the past. Fine,' I think, but I keep my cynical mouth shut and put one foot in front of the other along with the rest of El erton.

Normal is grey and narrow. Normal is not daring to look back.

At night I dream in widescreen, high definition technicolour.

Phoenix is there, centre screen, ful of life. He's coming right at me, smiling, reaching out his hand. I take it and his blue grey eyes shining out from under a sweep of dark hair are talking to me, tel ing me he loves me. When he rests his arm around my shoulder, I feel the warm weight of it. Awake, I'm alone. They try to get near me - Laura, Zoey, Logan and the rest. 'Look ahead, Darina. There's so much to live for.' Meaning, you're 166

seventeen years old for chrissake, you only knew Phoenix Rohr for a couple of months. OK so you lost him in a street fight and that was tough but you have your whole life in front of you. Normal, grey stuff.

I push them away. I prefer my multi-colour dreams.

Phoenix and me cross-legged on a rock in the middle of Deer Creek.

Silver flashes on the clear water, blood-red sun over Amos Peak. Phoenix's lips on mine, ful and soft. I run my fingers from the nape of his neck down his spine. His skin is smooth, warm and tanned, there's no angel-wing death mark between his shoulder blades where the knife went in.

It's like we've been together since the day we were born.

Awake again, I'm driving out of town. I'm cold, it's February and the grey voices are winning.

'I fixed up another session with Kim Reiss,' Laura just informed me. 'Please talk to her, Darina. It's bad for you to bottle up your emotions this way.

I'm cold, pushing eighty miles per hour with the top down. The way the wind flaps through my hair reminds me of beating wings. The mountains ahead look black.

What do I say to Kim the Shrink in her primrose-yel ow room? I'm cold, I'm hurting, I haven't seen my Beautiful Dead boyfriend in twelve whole weeks.

Eighty-four days of driving out to Foxton since Arizona stepped into Hartmann Lake, her angel wings spread wide. It was late fal , before Christmas and a blank New Year. I stood next to you, Phoenix, at the lake's edge, while angel-wing Arizona walked up to her waist in the clear green water and a mist came to take her. 'Go,' we said.

You held my hand and your hand was cold as ice.

Foxton is where I'l find you and it won't be a dream. One cold day in the deep snow, when your overlord decides it's time, you'l be there at the barn door, waiting for me. Maybe today.