Shadowed Summer (12 page)

I
filled Daddy’s thermos and tried to shove him out the door. My heart beat faster and faster. Though Daddy’d never said it was against the rules to have friends over while he was gone, I figured I’d be better off if I didn’t give him the chance.

He kept dawdling and I didn’t know why until he stopped at the door and asked, “Are you going to be all right alone?”

“Yes, Daddy, God!” I snatched his lunch off the counter and held it out at arm’s length. “As soon as you leave, I’ll lock up.”

“I mean that. One call from Rennie Delancie in my lifetime is more than I need.”

Disappointment stuck in my throat. I’d been so happy thinking Daddy’d just known to come home and save me; it hurt to find out he hadn’t. I guess I should have known better. Daddy didn’t believe in that sort of thing.

I shooed him toward the walk. “If you’re late, it’s not my fault.”

Pointing as he jogged down the steps, he called back, “I mean it! Lock that door!”

And I did, for the whole ten minutes it took Collette and Ben to show up.

“He didn’t bring the board,” Collette said, brushing past me. It was still winter in her world; she didn’t even bother with a hello.

Ben followed, arguing with the back of Collette’s head. “It’s not my fault! Shea told her I had it and she took it back!”

“You shoulda hidden it,” she snapped. “You shoulda left it at my house.”

“I didn’t want to leave it at your house!”

“And see where that got us?”

Leaning against the door to close it, I wanted to slide to the floor and mope. Nonna’s witchboard was the finest thing about Ben Duvall, and now it was gone. I twisted the lock until it caught, barely looking up at them. “So what are we gonna do?”

“Nothing, now,” Collette said, black and dire.

“You got some candles?” Ben hunched down in his Saints jersey, hands stuck in his pockets. “We could have a séance if you got candles.”

Collette snorted.

“What?” Ben glared at her. “You got a better idea?”

“You don’t listen to my good ideas.”

Before things got really ugly, I said, “We’ve got storm candles, lots of ’em.” I started for the kitchen, tugging one of Collette’s curls. “Help me carry some drinks?”

“I’m not thirsty,” she said, then winced when I yanked her curl hard.

“We might be later.” Narrowing my eyes, I stared at her until she got up to follow me.

In the kitchen, I pulled glasses out of the cabinets while Collette got the ice. Glancing to make sure Ben hadn’t moved any, I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Collette, you know I was only joking.”

“I know
you
were.” She set the ice bucket down hard, scattering flecks and chips all over the counter. She’d been coming to my house long enough to know which drawer had the washrags in it, and she grabbed one to clean up her mess. “It’s not just you.”

Rooting through the drawers, I asked carefully, “What did he do?”

“I don’t even know how to explain it,” she said. After scooping the ice chips into the sink, she tried filling the glasses again, more slowly this time. “Half the time, he’s all over me, and half the time, I don’t even know why I’m there. I don’t get him at all.”

“He’s probably wound up about his mama,” I said.

Collette flattened her hands on the counter. “He could talk to me about that, but he don’t. He’d talk to
you,
I bet.”

“Uh-uh,” I said automatically, but my stomach sank. He probably would have, if I’d let him.

I didn’t know how to give Collette advice about stuff like this. Since she was mad, I figured I couldn’t do wrong by appealing to her temperament. “He’s gonna be sorry he messed with you.”

“I know. I don’t care.” Collette sighed, then said, “He’s got a lazy eye, anyway.”

Not that I’d ever seen, but I kept that to myself. I dug out the thick yellow emergency candles, then shifted deep in the drawer to find the matches. “He smells like cabbage, too.”

“I can do better.” Tumbling ice into the last glass, she looked at me and added grudgingly, “So can you.”

She meant it, but she still looked wounded. Patting her hand, reassuring her one more time, I said, “I’m not looking, so it don’t matter.”

And with Elijah looking for me, that was the truth.

When we straggled back to the living room, Ben had cleared the coffee table so we could sit around it. He kept his eyes down, and I was careful to put his soda on the coaster instead of in his hands.

“All right, now what?” Collette lit a row of short candles as I arranged and rearranged.

Still on my feet, I turned off the lights, then hovered by the doorway. Upstairs, the hall light still burned, so we had candles and a faded orange glow to keep us from falling all over each other in the dark. “The AC’s awful loud; y’all want me to turn it down?”

“It’s fine,” Ben said.

“I’m cold,” Collette said.

I pushed it to seventy-five and flopped down at the head of the table, with Collette on one side and Ben on the other. We were as far away from each other as we could get while still sitting together. The amber glow from the candles filled our triangle.

“We’re supposed to hold hands,” Ben said, offering his, palms up.

Glancing at Collette, I asked, “How come?”

Ben sighed. “The Web page said.”

Caught between knowing everything and shunning Ben, Collette twitched, then grabbed Ben’s hand. “Same reason everybody does the witchboard together—it’s so you don’t get possessed.”

“There you go,” Ben said, relieved, and I joined the circle.

Collette’s palm was still cool and damp from pouring sodas; Ben’s was hot and sweaty, and he took it back twice to rub on the knee of his pants before we got started.

Clearing his throat, Ben stared at the candles but talked to me. “Elijah’s your ghost, so I guess you’d better call him up. Just ask him to come down or something.”

Inside my belly, my nerves tangled to a knot. It seemed kinda stupid to call down a ghost testy enough to trash my bedroom—but like I had when we played the witchboard, I just went along. It was easier that way.

I breathed through my nose, exhaling slow as I let my eyes drift closed. Ice tinkled in our glasses like chimes, and the steady hum of the air conditioner became a regular, electric heartbeat. “We’re trying to talk to you, Elijah. Are you there?”

A busy silence answered. I could hear ordinary house sounds from about everywhere, but no word from the other side.

Gooseflesh prickled my arms, winding me up tight in anticipation. His voice had been clear in the cemetery; I was afraid that I would—and that I wouldn’t—hear him again, right there in my living room.

Collette squeezed my hand and whispered, “Ask again.”

I licked my dry lips. “Elijah, if you’re there, answer me.”

Something thumped above us, a rolling kind of sound, like somebody falling out of bed. My throat went desert dry, because we all three looked up at the same time. I wasn’t the only one who heard it.

Hushed, I tried again. “Elijah, ’s’at you?”

The hair on my arms stood up when the ceiling rumbled again. I felt like I was breathing through water, and I know I squeezed Collette’s hand too hard, because she gasped. I couldn’t help it, though. Those sounds were coming from my bedroom.

“Elijah, do you have a message for us?” Collette asked quickly, as if somebody might stop her if she didn’t rush it all out.

The living room filled with the sound of marbles skimming across hardwood. Rattles and jumps and bumps went on and on—an answer, but not real specific.

Eyes wide, Ben spoke to the ceiling. “If that’s you, Elijah, knock once for yes and twice for no.”

Startled, Collette squeaked at two sharp raps, right up close.

“Elijah Landry, is that you?” I asked.

One knock.

“That’s yes,” Collette said. Her voice came out thin, broken with an uneven breath. Collette—the brave one, the one who’d wanted to pierce the veil between the living and the dead in the first place—all the color had gone out of her face. Her lips had turned hazy gray, and that scared me. I wanted to cry.

“We ought to stop,” I said.

Collette shook her head. “No. Keep going.”

Agreeing with her, the ceiling thundered again, this time with heavy footsteps. Suddenly, I couldn’t stop shivering; it had turned cold, so cold my bones ached. Any minute, I expected to see my breath frost up. “Do you have a message for us, Elijah?”

Two knocks. No.

Scared or not, Collette wasn’t about to let foolishness ruin the moment. Sounding like our English teacher, she pronounced her question with perfect diction, demanding a real answer this time. “We’re trying to help you, Elijah. Do you have a message for us?”

He rapped twice, then twice more, then just pounded away, slamming my bedroom door open and closed. Then everything stopped.

Looking around slowly, I chewed my bottom lip, wondering if we’d driven him off forever.

“Guess that’s that,” I said, and blew out the candle closest to me.

First, I heard the scream. It came so sharp and high, it broke my skin open and made me bleed ice cold. Dripping wet, my cheek burned. I touched it, and my fingers came back stained watery dark. I tasted salt and metal; the pressure in the room changed.

Collette picked something up from a pile of ice cubes and broken glass on the table. She turned it over, a smooth, gray stone dripping with pop, not blood. All at once, Collette croaked, then bolted for the bathroom.

I touched the spot on my burning cheek again, smearing the wet across my face as I tipped my head back to look at the ceiling. There wasn’t anywhere for that rock to have come from, to crash down into Collette’s glass like that.

Breathing fast, Ben slid closer to me. “Iris, you’re bleeding.”

“I know,” I said. I put my hand on his shoulder and stood. Down the hall, I could hear Collette crying in the bathroom. “Go check on her; I’ll be fine.”

His hand strayed close to my face. “Iris, I—”

“Just go on, all right?” I brushed him away and turned, unsteady on my feet. I headed to the kitchen for a Band-Aid. I had no idea what waited for me upstairs, but downstairs I had glass, blood, and a broken best friend.

Elijah was a wild thing, and a mean one, and I’d had enough.

chapter nine

A
fter Ben and I checked upstairs to make sure there were no surprises waiting for me, I made him promise to walk Collette all the way home. I managed to get them to leave through the back door. I had a funny feeling somebody was watching the house.

I locked the door, tugging the knob twice to make sure it stuck, and then headed into the living room to finish cleaning up Elijah’s mess. I caught a glimpse of myself, pale and blood-smeared, in the window.

It was hard to keep my hands from the nick on my cheek once I saw it. It wasn’t much bigger than a beauty mark, but it felt like a gouge, gaping down to the bone. I made myself shrug it off; I turned and started sweeping shattered glass into a grocery bag.

I’d only seen Collette that sick when cherries were in season. That, and my sunburn, and having the police to my house—it was all Elijah’s fault. My temper grew the longer I scrubbed at the pop stains in the carpet.