On Pins and Needles: Sierra Fox, Book 3 (5 page)

I wrung the water from my wet hair and shook off my jacket before unlocking my office. I withdrew the key from the door with my name affixed to the glass and pushed it open. I used to be so proud of my name and title displayed for the world to see, but now it just made me feel hollow. The black dog had changed me, let loose a wild side eager to fiercely protect myself and those I cared about. I would destroy anyone—or anything—who tried to compromise our safety.
 

I wasn’t afraid to fight back and carried my trusty silver dagger with me everywhere, inside my boot. But with the fighting nature, Mauricio the dog had also made me paranoid. And having the close encounter with that car earlier hadn’t helped. At least no one tried to run me over when I crossed the road this time.

After flexing my right hand a few times, I positioned it at my side in case something was waiting in the shadows. I wanted to be ready to duck for my dagger.
 

As soon as I stepped inside, the stuffiness trapped inside my office hit me like a tangible force.
 

I made my way towards the two windows located behind my desk and opened the blinds enough to let in what little light there was in the overcast day. I also propped one of the windows open, deciding to forego the air conditioning. What this place needed right now was some fresh air.
 

Placing my jacket over the back of the chair, I looked around and felt at odds inside the office I’d always seen as a refuge—a place to think and sort through my outstanding cases and personal problems. Just as I dropped my weary body onto my swivel chair, a small knock came at my open door. I thought I’d have more time before my scheduled meeting, but it looked like she was early. I pushed off the desk, rolled my chair back and then headed for the door.

Standing next to it was a young teenage girl about my height. She had long, straight mahogany hair hanging around her like a layered curtain. Her eyes were blue and glistening, her slim body covered in a hooded sweater and black skinny jeans that were both beaded with raindrops. Black boots completed her outfit. Her cheeks looked flushed from the cold outside and a backpack was strapped over her shoulders.

“Hi… Sierra Fox?” she asked in a small and dainty voice.

I nodded, extending my hand. “Hello, Willow Moss.”
 

Her grip was soft and quick. I could see a lot of my mother in her. Well, except for the blue eyes. They had to be from her father’s side.
 

I’d done a few online searches but hadn’t found any details about this girl. She wasn’t listed under any social networking sites, or even mentioned in any school websites.
 

“It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Come in,” I said, motioning her towards the visitor’s chair positioned beside my desk. I took the lead, sat and swiveled around to face her. “So…”

I wasn’t sure how she felt about meeting, but for me it was surreal. All of my life I’d thought of myself as an unwanted only child, but never had a problem with it because of my grandparents. Sure, there’d been times when I’d wished I had a sister to share my secrets with because other kids didn’t understand me, but hearing and seeing their experiences with siblings soon shook that out of me. Not to mention, having a spook as one of your best friends can ease away a lot of loneliness.

Willow pulled the backpack off her shoulders and placed it on her lap after she sat. “Before I forget, I want to prove to you that I am who I say I am.” She unzipped her bag, reached inside and shuffled things around. From this angle I could make out some plastic folders, a laptop and a bunch of clothes randomly shoved inside. “You must get a lot of weirdos trying to pass themselves off as someone they’re not, and I don’t want you to think I’m one of them.”
 

Before I could respond, she yanked out one of the plastic folders and a cylindrical toothbrush case fell onto the desk. Willow quickly shoved it back inside before opening the folder and pulling out a document. “This is my birth certificate.”

I took it from her and checked out the details. Willow Josephine Moss was born in a private hospital in Ashfield on Halloween almost eighteen years ago. I was surprised to see Grandma’s given name as Willow’s middle name. Maybe my cold-hearted mother had cared more about the woman who gave birth to her than she let on.
 

My mother’s new name—Cian Mary Moss—was also printed on the birth certificate, her maiden surname listed below. Willow’s father was listed as Eli John Moss. I took note of that name.
 

The birth certificate appeared genuine, with the correct stamps and signatures. I doubted this kid would go to the trouble of showing me a fake, and appreciated that she’d thought to show me actual evidence before I had to be cruel and ask for it myself.

“Thanks, Willow.” I returned the document and she passed me a photo.
 

“That’s a photo of my parents on their wedding day,” she said.

I winced at my smiling mother’s face while she held onto her latest man, one that would offer her a new life while she disregarded the old one. Did she ever spare a thought for me after she married this guy? I doubted it, since she’d forgotten about me long before her second wedding. She gave up guardianship years before then. I didn’t like my mother any more now that she was dead than I had when she was alive. I was just glad I’d never crossed paths with her spirit.

I slid the photo back. “I think that’s enough evidence.”

“I just want to show you my driver’s license.” She flashed it at me, once again confirming everything she’d shown. “I can’t believe I’ve always had a sister and no one told me about it.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I don’t know what your experience with my—our—mother was, but she wasn’t very vocal with me.” Well, except about how much of a disappointment I was—and how much of a disturbed child I turned out to be. Had she found happiness while raising this girl? Probably. There weren’t too many physical similarities between us, so she wouldn’t have been reminded of me. We didn’t even have the same color eyes, hair, or skin.
 

“Mum was wonderful,” she said with a half-smile. “Of course, I was just a kid when she died and most of what I remember is probably a little rose-colored.”

“So, who told you about me?”

“My dad…”

I waited for her to add something more, since I’d assumed my mother would pretend I didn’t exist. “Oh.”

“He told me about six months ago, but it took a while for it to actually sink in,” she said softly. “He encouraged me to find you.”

Why would a complete stranger do that? After all, I was his dead wife’s daughter and had never even met him. I held my tongue, deciding that was probably a question to ask the source, not Willow. I was starting to get a little suspicious about this Eli Moss’s motivations.

“What took you so long to call me?”

She blushed. “It took a while to get the courage up. I didn’t want to sound like some loony. I wanted to make sure we really were blood relations before making my move.”

After receiving her message, I’d called her back and we’d exchanged awkward small talk before arranging to meet today. I’d thought it best not to invite her to my home, or to get together in a public place where anyone could be watching. That left the office, and I was glad we’d both agreed on this location.

Right now, I wasn’t happy or sad about this news. I was mostly feeling neutral. We might share the same birth mother but we were virtual strangers, and after my exchange with Ebony I was emotionally drained.
 

I sighed. “In your message, you mentioned you were seeing things?”

She nodded and a few strands of hair fell into her eyes. “I’ve seen strange things for years, but it’s started to get a little stranger than usual lately.”

“Do you see ghosts?”

Willow shook her head. “Nope, I’m pretty sure I’m not like you. I’ve read about what you can do, and it’s nothing like what I see or feel.”

“Tell me how it is, then.” As far as I knew, only the eldest granddaughter in each family inherited the spook catcher gene. I’d inherited it directly from my grandmother, but Willow shouldn’t have received any sight. Maybe it got diluted and anyone who had more than one female in the same familial line ended up with a lesser ghostly intuition. I didn’t know, but this was probably my chance to find out. Not to mention that I had no idea what her father’s history was.

“Okay.” Willow shoved the folder back into her backpack before zipping it up. “I see things, like movements out of the corner of my eye…but when I turn to look there’s nothing there. I also sometimes feel an electric zing for no reason, or sudden drops in temperature.”

I nodded. These were all the classic signs of ghostly energy being expelled around a person. A lot of average people could feel these things, but maybe because of our family history she was more sensitive to the impressions.

“Did your mother ever mention that she was part of a spook catcher line?” It felt so much better to allocate my so-called mother to someone else.

Willow shook her head. “I found out when I was doing a project for school last year. We had to trace our family tree, and that’s when I found out Mum had been married before. It’s also when I found out she had another daughter. When I asked my father about it, he told me what little he knew.”

“It doesn’t surprise me that she never told you,” I whispered.

“You didn’t get along with Mum?”

“That’s probably an understatement,” I answered truthfully. “But I don’t want to taint your memory of her. We obviously had very different experiences while growing up, and it looks like she finally got the normal little girl she always wanted.”
 

I should be glad, or even happy, for my mother…but I wasn’t. All I hoped was that she’d treated this girl with more care and respect than she’d ever shown me. I hoped she’d loved and nurtured her instead of pushing her away.

Willow chuckled. “Oh, no, I was far from normal.”

“What do you mean?”

She fiddled with the straps of her backpack. “I died when I was about five.”

I restrained myself from saying what first came to mind, and instead whispered, “Oh my God, that’s awful. I’m so sorry.” What did she mean she’d died, and how had my mother handled it? I couldn’t believe this.

“I died another time, when Mum did.” She cast her eyes downward. “It happened again when my dog died last year. The last time was a few months ago… I have a
condition
that no one has a name for. So yeah, I’m not very normal.”

I stared at this seemingly healthy young girl and for the first time noticed the dark circles under her eyes, and just how thin she was. “I don’t know what to say.” I bit down on my lip, fighting the itch to grab a pen and start writing this down into my grimoire—under my family history. This was bizarre. She’d allegedly died four times already and had somehow—obviously—been revived. How was that possible?

For just a moment, I honed in on my spook catcher skills, hoping to eliminate the fact she could very well be dead right now and not know it. But no, she was very much alive.

“It’s okay. Most people don’t know what to say or how to react.” She looked down at the desk. “All I know is that every time I come back, I feel a little different. A little heavier, if that makes any sense.”

My heart sped up. How had my mother dealt with another anomaly? And what could be wrong with Willow that she kept dying but came back? It explained why she’d reached out to me. Yet I couldn’t help but wonder how her father fit into all of this, and how he even knew about me. How long had he known? I still had a hard time believing my mother actually told him.

“Listen, I don’t want to pry into your business, but does your father know you’re here?”

Willow’s head jerked up unnaturally fast and her blue eyes widened, shining brightly. So bright it almost looked as if shimmering light was filtering from
within
her. “Why?” Her soft voice suddenly had a rough edge.

“I’m curious, what does he think of all this?”

“My father has nothing to do with this.” The long strands of her hair lifted around her like slithering snakes being whipped by a sudden gust of wind.
 

What the hell was going on? My hair sizzled from the electrical charge I associated with poltergeist activity, or phantasms. “Willow, are you okay?”

“Yeah, just dandy,” she replied, and a flash of light exploded behind her, revealing the writhing form of a tall, thin boy with longish brown hair. He weaved around her, his body charged like an electric eel. Yet she didn’t seem to notice him or the sparks.

When another form appeared behind her, this time in the shape of a dog, I jumped out of the chair and took a step back.
 

I raised my right hand. “Okay, Willow, you need to calm down.”

“I am calm. I’ve never felt calmer, because being around you feels different…in a good way.” A rueful smile spread across her plump lips. “You’re exactly what I’ve needed all this time. You can help me.”
 

The monitor between mine and Ebony’s desk flickered on, and so did the overhead lights. A few manila folders flew off the top of the stack and began swirling around, an assortment of pens following close behind.