Shadow Bound (Wraith) (2 page)

“At her house – in the yard,” I lied. “I don’t know if it was her granddaughter or not. I just assumed.”

Dad pulled the car into our driveway and around to the back of the house. “I’ll be inside in a minute.” I searched for a plausible lie. “I’m going to stretch first. My quads are tight.”

He disappeared into the house and I crept down the driveway until the street was in view. I had to wait a couple minutes, but Ms. Frances finally appeared, slowly making her way up the street and then her front path.

I looked for the girl, but Ms. Frances was alone. I stood and walked closer to the street to see if she had fallen behind. She had not.

“Afternoon dear,” Ms. Frances said, passing me on her way up the steps to her porch.

“Good afternoon,” I replied before scurrying back to the house. I’d never seen a ghost that wasn’t looking for me before. It made me wonder. Was she here for me or something else? Either way, I figured, time would tell.

&

“Clara, remember to clean your brush before you dip it into a new color of paint.”

Ava’s words were kind, but her tone sounded exasperated. She had already told the little girl these same directions a dozen times today. I looked over at the art table and watched the piggy bank she worked on change from pink to a murky brown.

I walked over and nudged Ava out of the way and leaned over the table. “Here, let me see,” I said, taking the brush out of her hand. Six and adorable, Clara couldn’t get a handle on not making a huge mess out of her projects. “Dip your brush in the water, swirl it around and wipe it on the table cloth before putting it back in the paint.” I showed her. “See? Pink!”

Clara ignored me and dipped her pink brush into the yellow and then dragged it over to the green. I sighed and rolled my eyes at Ava, who covered her mouth, laughing.

“Hush,” I whispered, moving to stand next to her by the counter. We watched the group of kids for a while, playing in different centers around the art studio. Without warning, Ava wrapped her arms around my shoulders.

“Did I ever tell you how much I love you for getting me this job?” She nestled her head on my shoulder.

“Yes,” I laughed, pulling the back of her hair. “Every day. Twice a day.”

“It was this or work at my dad’s office. Which would have been horrible. And lonely. And horrible.”

“We’re both lucky my mom found us these jobs. I didn’t really want to spend the summer at their store either.” Since she owned the gallery, my mother was a member of the business association and she found out Pastels Art Studio was hiring teachers for their summer camps. Ava and I pounced on the opportunity.

“You going out with Christian tonight?” I asked, knowing the answer already. Since spring they’ve been inseparable. She even wore a woven leather strap around her wrist at all times – a gift from Christian. It’s not an engagement ring or anything, but for them it meant they were serious.

“You two need to share,” she said, walking over and separating two kids fighting over the same rolling pin at the Play-Doh table. “Yeah,” she said over her shoulder. “I think so. What are you guys doing?”

“Not sure. I was hoping you could give me a ride over to Connor’s house after work. Please?” I asked nicely.

“Sure. Blah, summer school has to totally suck.”

“It does. For him and me both. He’s never around and he has all this class work, and his mom is pretty strict about curfew and stuff.”

“But at least he can graduate on time, right? If he passes everything?”

I nodded. That was the plan. Connor had to pass his summer school classes and keep all his grades up next year and he would graduate with the rest of us. A year behind, but still graduating. His time at the hospital – dealing with his own demons – really screwed up his track.

“Yep, this way he starts off the new year on target,” I said, organizing the paint brushes in their cups. It was almost time to go. “Clara, finish up. I need to take that outside to dry with the rest of the projects.”

Clara made one last swipe with her paint brush, all traces of the original pink gone, and she hopped off her seat and pulled at her smock. Ava unbuttoned it and sent her in the other room. “I’m going to get them to clean up and read a story, okay?” she said.

“Good. I’ll take these out on the porch.” I picked up a tray of piggy banks and walked to the front door. The art studio was in a converted house on the edge of the business district. It had a wide front porch that we used to let projects dry, or for when we worked with toxic materials. I balanced the tray with one hand and pulled the door shut behind me. I breathed in the hot, muggy air. The banks would dry faster if there was a bit of a breeze, but nothing had to go home today. The kids were here for the entire week.

I bent over, placing the tray on the table. When I stood, I let out a loud gasp and threw my hands up. “Holy mother...” I mumbled, trying to gain my composure. “Don’t do that! People really need to stop scaring me.”

“Sorry?” the woman said. She was older than me, but not much. She had dark hair and brown eyes. I noticed she was a little thick around the waist. The edges of her body weren’t quite solid. The slight, cool breeze I had just wished for wafted by. She was definitely dead.

“What do you want?” I asked, cutting to the heart of the matter. I no longer had time for formalities. She wanted something – no, needed something, and apparently, I had to help her. It’s how it worked.

“My baby. She’s gone.”

“Your baby?”

She nodded and looked even younger now. Too young for a baby. “When did you last see her?”

Her hands spread across her belly, flattening out her blue shirt. She looked down. “She was here. Warm and safe.”

“Okay, you lost your baby,” I said. I rubbed my hand over my forehead. I knew what she was saying wasn’t true. Her baby wasn’t lost. It was the other way around. This girl’s baby had lost her mother. “Do you want me to find her?”

“I think so.”

I sighed. I didn’t want to. I wanted to close my eyes and make her disappear, but the supernatural world didn’t work that way. It sure as hell didn’t care what I wanted or what I needed. The faster I handled it, the faster it went away.

“What’s her name?” I asked.

She shook her head. Her forehead knitted in confusion. I sighed. “Okay, what’s your name?”

“Raquel.” She told me her first and last name, but nothing more. She was one of those. The ones that haven’t got a clue about how they got here or where they are going next.

“All right, Raquel, I’ll find her, okay? But, here’s the deal. No hanging around me. Or showing up at my house or here. I’ll let you know when I have information for you.”

She nodded slowly. I wondered if her death had caused some brain injury. Most likely she was just scared.

“Go.” I turned back to the door. When I looked back, she was gone.

“T
hanks for the
ride.” Ava parked her car at the curb outside Connor’s house. Although I had access to my parent’s car, Ava had her own and we had been carpooling to work.

“Bye,” she said. I slammed the door of the SUV and waved as she drove off. I walked up the brick-lined driveway and surveyed Connor’s house. Historic and beautiful. Well landscaped. His mother obviously spent a lot of time making it perfect. She had a framed magazine cover hanging in the living room from an article about their home.

Art camp released for the day at 3 p.m. I liked that it didn’t suck away my whole day, although by the time I was free, it was too hot to do much of anything. Huge, old trees surrounded Connor’s house providing shade and, when I reached the top of his driveway, that’s where I found him, bent over his ancient car, under the wide limbs of a huge oak tree. Regardless of the shade, the back of Connor’s gray T-shirt was drenched in sweat.

The parking pad of the driveway curved behind the house and I dropped my satchel on the back steps. Connor popped his head up for a moment and I noticed tiny ear buds. He sang quietly to himself. I debated whether or not to surprise him and, just as I took steps in his direction, he stood up, hit his head on the underside of the car hood and swore.

“Damn it!”

His hand wrapped around the wrench in his hand so tight the knuckles turned white and, in a flash, he flung the tool across the yard. I jumped when the tool hit with a loud thud against the wooden fence that separated the yards and dropped hard onto the ground. He turned and kicked the side of his car and spun my direction. That’s when he saw me, frozen in my spot.

Connor’s jaw tightened and I could see his teeth grinding against one another. He rubbed his cheek, leaving a black smear of grease across his skin and his blue eyes narrowed, locking with mine.

He looked wild. Dangerous.

He tugged the earphones out, and we stared at one another.

I broke first. “So… what’s going on?”

He shrugged and walked across the driveway and into the yard. He pushed aside some bushes and leaned over. After a minute, he came back up with the wrench in his hand. A million thoughts ran through my mind. Did he see something? Did something happen to his sister, Emma? School? I had nothing to base his anger on.

Rationally, I knew he wasn’t angry at me. I moved toward him and reached for his hand. “Hey, tell me.”

“It’s nothing.” He pulled back a little at my touch. A flinch. Tiny, but there.

“Nothing? I know you hate your car, but…”

His chest moved up and down, slower with each pass, as he gained control of his breathing. “It’s not the stupid car.”

I waited.

“I just…” He paused and threw the wrench in the metal box lying by the side of the car and it landed with a clang against the other tools. Leaning against the side of the car, he rubbed his hands over his face. “I got some bad news today.”

Again, I reached for his hand and this time he let me take it. “What happened?”

He swallowed and made a face. Like something tasted bad. “This friend of mine from the hospital died last night.”

“Oh... wow. I’m sorry. What happened?”

“She killed herself.” He ran a hand through his hair. I tightened the grip on the one I still held.

“Were you close?” I didn’t know much about his time at the hospital, other than the fact he spent more than six months in a mental health facility because of the ghosts. He couldn’t handle the influx and their demands. I could. Mine came one at a time. Connor wasn’t so lucky. Unless he took a daily dose of anti-anxiety and anti-depression medication they came in droves. Although we were open with one another about all of this, we didn’t talk about his hospitalization much, but I knew it bothered him.

“Kind of. She was in my group so we got to know one another whether we wanted to or not.”

“Wow. Connor, I don’t know what to say.” As much as I dealt with death, I felt helpless. My experience was with the already dead. Not the living.

He sighed. “There’s nothing to say, Jane. She was sick and the illness won. She couldn’t beat it.”

I nodded, understanding a little. But, then again, I had been lucky. I had Evan to help me cope with the depression and fear. The next question was obvious and I hated to ask. Hated to, but had to. “Have you… have you seen her?”

His dark blue eyes flicked to mine and he paused. That pause sent a chill through my body like I’ve never had before. “No.”

“Okay, good. That would be really hard.”

“It would suck.”

“Right.”

We were quiet for a minute, until he let go of my hand. He turned toward the car, moving to release the lever for the hood. He lifted the bulky piece of metal overhead and secured it, but gestured for me to move back.

“I don’t want it to drop on you,” he explained.

“I’d rather it not drop on you either.” I reached to touch his head, feeling around for a bump. There was a small raised lump on the crown.

“I’m okay.”

“Are you?” I wasn’t talking about his head.

He didn’t answer, but moved his hand to my hip and squeezed before bending down to kiss me. He tasted like sweat and smelled like grease. I didn’t care. I wanted him to feel better. To feel something other than sadness.