Читать книгу Sisters of Blood and Spirit - Kady Cross - Страница 9

WREN

Sometimes I watched Lark sleep, just to make certain nothing happened to her. She didn’t know that I did it or she wouldn’t have closed her eyes. She said I “creeped” her out when I did things like that. What else was I supposed to do? I didn’t sleep—I didn’t need to. I had tried to once, but I got bored. As a child I’d figured out—with Lark’s help—how to pass through books so that I could actually read them. Thankfully our grandmother had a fabulous library—not as good as the one in the Shadow Lands, but it was more than adequate.

When we were little, Lark asked me if I lived in Heaven. I told her I didn’t know. I still didn’t. It was an untruth that the dead had all the answers. We just had different questions.

The truth of where I “lived” was that it was big and peaceful and muted. No bright colors—except for my hair—no loud noises, no strong smells. Certainly nothing like the wave of deliciousness that greeted me when I phased through the door of our grandmother’s kitchen. My sense of smell wasn’t that developed, but spending time in this world had helped strengthen it, and what I smelled was good.

“Oh,” I said. “What is that?”

“Peanut butter cookies,” Lark told me. “Best smell in the world.”

“Can I have one?” I sounded so pathetic, and I was. We both knew the only way I’d ever taste that delicious scent was if Lark let me in, and I’d already violated her space once today.

My sister smiled, indulging me like she always did. She had such a big heart, especially where I was concerned. “Sure.” I forgave her for asking what I’d done to that boy in her class. It wasn’t as though she didn’t have reason to ask, especially after what I’d done to that orderly in the hospital our parents had put Lark in. I scared him so bad they took him away sobbing. He never came back, but I visited him from time to time.

“I didn’t hurt him,” I insisted, needing her to know the truth. I didn’t have to tell her who or what I was talking about. She knew. Lark just nodded. She didn’t like to talk to me in front of other people anymore. I understood why, but it still hurt sometimes. Other times it made me angry. People got hurt when I got angry, so I tried to stay calm.

“Hello, girls,” Nan greeted us. “Hug.”

She was five feet tall and slim with a head of thick hair dyed a color almost as bright as mine. According to Lark she didn’t look like a grandmother, but Charlotte Noble felt like one.

Lark hesitated—she always did. It was my fault, this distrust she had of people, even those who should have her complete faith. Just by being, I’d made her life so much harder than it should have been. She didn’t like to hug, and I wished I could hug everyone I met. When we first came here, Lark let me in so I could feel our grandmother’s arms around me. Today, I simply moved through the tiny woman, letting her sweet warmth sift through me.

To my delight, Nan smiled. “Wren, you’re like walking through a patch of sunshine, dear. Lark, just come hug me and get it over with, girl. I won’t bite you.”

I watched, anxious as the two most important women in my existence embraced. Was it my imagination, or did Lark relax a little? True to her word, Nan didn’t bite. I’d been nervous for a moment.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a flicker of something in the next room—just a passing shadow flickering in the afternoon sunlight. Was there someone else in the house? I moved slowly into the room, hoping to catch our visitor, but there was nothing, not even a trace of spectral energy. That was disappointing. It would have been nice to meet another ghost—a friendly one.

In the Shadow Lands I had form and substance, but in the living world I was nothing more than a projection. It was annoying. In the Shadow Lands I could eat a cookie—if they existed there. The dead didn’t need to eat. We didn’t get our strength from food.

We got it from the living. Humans left a trail of life energy like slugs left slime. Maybe not the best analogy, but it was almost like they exhaled a little bit with every breath. We drifted along sucking that up. Sometimes a ghost would get greedy and siphon from a person. Heightened emotion meant more life force. Ghosts particularly liked the taste of fear. That was why so many hauntings were terrible things.

Fear tasted like my grandmother’s cookies smelled.

I looked around one more time, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe I had spent too much time in this world and my eyes had started to play tricks on me, or maybe I was becoming as suspicious as Lark.

I wished she had talked to Mace earlier. We—I—owed him so much for saving her life. When I saw her lying on the floor, and what she had done, I panicked. I couldn’t help her except to hold her wrists and try to stop the bleeding. I needed help, and I cried out to anyone who could hear me.

Kevin McCrae had heard me. Some people were more attuned to the frequency of the dead than others. In the human world they were called mediums. Where I came from, they were called “doors.” Kevin was a door I could open, and I didn’t even knock first. He hadn’t even known who I was when I tore into his mind like a madwoman, begging for his help. He didn’t live close to us, but his friend Mace did. Kevin called Mace and asked him to check on Lark, then Mace called 911.

Kevin and I kept in contact after that night. Not a lot, but some. He was the only person other than my sister to have ever known I was in the same room, and he was the person I’d run to when Lark wasn’t there.

He was the reason I wanted to go to the coffee shop that night. Lark knew it, of course. But my sister didn’t know all of it.

Oh, and I wanted to know what Roxi was hiding. There had been sincerity in her invitation, but there had been something else, as well. It was easy enough to assume that the secret was something she thought might convince Lark not to go if she revealed it straightaway. That made me suspicious.

“Anything exciting happen today?” Nan asked as she used a spatula to move the warm cookies from baking sheet to plate.

Lark and I exchanged glances. She knew.

“That lovely Principal Grant called today.” I didn’t believe lovely was the word she really wanted to use. “Told me you’d gotten called to the office because you’d scared a young man badly enough that he wet his pants and had to go home.”

Lark glared at me. I shrugged. “I’m not sorry I did it.”

“I didn’t do a thing to him,” Lark said.

“I didn’t think you did.” Suddenly, our grandmother looked right at me. “You owe your sister an apology, young lady.”

My jaw dropped. I knew she couldn’t see me, but this thing of ours seemed to come from her side of the family, because she was definitely sensitive to the Shadow Lands.

“She does?” Lark asked, speaking for both of us.

Nan nodded. “I know you didn’t hurt that boy, and that your sister’s intentions were good, but you got the trouble for it. You’ll always get the trouble for it. Wrenleigh, you need to think of these things before you act. I know you want to protect Lark, but now you’ve made things difficult for her, so you need to apologize for that.”

There was no way she’d have known if I apologized or not. I could have broken every window in this house. I could have made her sorry she’d tried bossing me around. Neither of those things were going to happen. I was chastised. She was right.

“I’m sorry,” I said to Lark. “I didn’t think. He hurt you and I just wanted to hurt him back.”

My sister nodded. “I know. It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t, was it? I knew Lark had forgiven me—she always did—but her life would have been easier if I hadn’t always been doing things she needed to forgive me for.

Nan smiled. “That’s a good girl.” She held the plate of cookies out to Lark. “Take one for your sister, too.”

Lark plucked two cookies off the cooling plate, gathered up her school books and announced that she was going to do some studying before dinner.

“Liar,” I accused.

Lark ignored me. “Nan, is it okay if I go out later? Roxi Taylor invited me to open-mike night at ’Nother Cup.”

There was no denying how much this pleased Nan—her face lit up. “Of course it’s all right! Do you want to take the car?”

Horror filled me. “No!”

But my sister smiled. “That would be great, thanks.” Because a white-haired girl driving a purple car wouldn’t stand out at all. God, it was a good thing I was invisible to most humans because I’d wish I was if I had to drive in that car. Fortunately, I didn’t have to depend on human modes of transportation.

As we climbed the stairs to our room, I thought I saw something again—a flash of black in my peripheral vision. I whipped my head around, but there was nothing.

“You okay?” Lark asked. “You’re not mad at Nan?”

She sounded a little...afraid. “No! Of course not. I thought I saw something.”

“I didn’t see anything.”

Of course she hadn’t. She could see a lot of things, but she still had the limited eyesight of a living person; they were notoriously shortsighted. “Probably nothing.”

“You know, if you want to go to the coffee shop tonight, I don’t mind if you go without me.”

I looked at her, lips twisting. “And miss seeing the reaction to you driving a grape jelly bean? I don’t think so. Besides, you promised Roxi you would go.”

“Yeah, I know.” She stared straight ahead as she climbed the rest of the stairs. “It would be rude of me to bail on her.”

I didn’t add that it would also be stupid for her to stay home and try to send me away. I wasn’t bound to Lark, I could come and go as I pleased, and tonight it would please me to be there with my sister to make certain no one tried to hurt her. If anyone gave her a hard time—even if it was Kevin—I’d risk Nan’s wrath and make certain they regretted it for a very, very long time.

LARK

So. Many. Hipsters.

I walked into ’Nother Cup expecting to be punched in the face by a wave of pretention, and I wasn’t disappointed; it almost dropped me on my butt.

I wasn’t proud to admit that I’d changed my clothes before leaving the house. I wore a black-and-white sleeveless dress with a Peter Pan collar and a pair of chunky black-and-white-striped Mary Janes. I’d pinned my hair—as white as my collar—into a messy updo and smeared on some black liner and red gloss. The Addams Family meets Mad Men.

“Stop fidgeting,” my sister commanded with a scowl as I straightened my dress. She was wearing something romantic and flowy, with her brilliant hair in curls. She looked gorgeous—and no one could see it.

“No one says fidget anymore,” I muttered, turning my head so no one else could hear.

Wren pointed across the fairly crowded shop to a low table surrounded by plush leather sofas and paisley chairs. “There’s Roxi. Do you see Kevin? I’m going to see if I can spot him.” She took off before I could answer, slipping in and out of people like they were wisps of smoke.

Only, she was the wisp. I needed to remember that. She was as real and solid to me as anyone here, but only to me.

I ordered a chai latte—which took forever—and made my way through the throng toward the stage area. I was practically on top of the table when I saw who else was there.

I knew I should have stayed home.

“Lark!” Roxi jumped up and hugged me. “You guys, this is Lark. Lark, this is Gage, Ben, Sarah and Mace.”

Okay, so I didn’t really know Gage, but I recognized him from school. Looking at Mace still made me want to puke. Sarah seemed friendly enough. The one who really got me, though, was Ben, the guy I’d seen in the principal’s office earlier. Maybe I could ask him what his sister had meant about letting him wait a little longer. And where he’d gotten that black eye.

And why when he looked at me I felt he knew me. Really knew me.

I gave them all a halfhearted wave. “Hey.” The only empty chair was the one near Roxi. Unfortunately, it was also next to Mace. He wore a white shirt over a black T-shirt with dark jeans and boots. Great, we were coordinated. I think he noticed, too. His mouth lifted a teeny bit on one side. It was a pretty lame-ass smile.

Sarah—the girl I’d seen with Mace earlier at school, smiled across him at me. She should really have a bandage on that scratch. She must have been new to school. I didn’t recognize her from before I went to Bell Hill, where they’d loaded me with pills and therapy. Thank God they hadn’t tried an exorcism. “Hi,” she called over the noise of the crowd. “I love your shoes.”

She seemed sincere, and my biggest vanity was my fashion sense. I smiled. “Thanks.” I had gotten them at Goodwill and painted them with leather paint to freshen them up. It had been a real bitch taping off the stripes, but worth it.

Wren plopped herself down in my chair, phasing through my right leg so that we were literally joined at the hip. “Kevin’s about to perform,” she squealed.

I didn’t reply, of course, but I put my hand on my leg and patted so she’d feel it. I didn’t want to encourage the crush—it wasn’t like anything could have come out of it when he couldn’t even see her.

A short bald man stepped up onto the stage and up to the mike. “Thank you all for coming to open-mike night here at ’Nother Cup. Our first performer is Kevin McCrae.”

Thunderous applause met this announcement, along with several hoots and whistles. Mace was one of the loudest, which surprised me. I watched him as he shouted out his support, a grin on his face.

Mace turned that grin on Sarah, who whistled, then Mace’s gaze met mine. I watched, helpless, as the joy melted from his face. Superfabulous for my ego, that was.

Did he remember how I’d looked that night? All decked out in a white cami and pj pants, my arms sliced open and blood in my hair? Did he remember that I’d looked him in the eye and begged him to let me die? Of course he did. He’d begged me not to die on him. Finding someone in the middle of suicide wasn’t something a person forgot. He’d told the police that he thought he’d heard something. As my next-door neighbor he’d decided to check in on me, knowing my parents weren’t home. He found me on the floor of my bathroom, my wrists cut. He called 911 and tried to stop the bleeding with towels.

But Kevin had been the reason he’d found me. Kevin was a medium, and Wren had made contact. I didn’t feel guilty because he knew about me. I felt guilty because he knew how badly I’d upset Wren.

Mace opened his mouth to speak—what the hell could he possibly have to say?—but a chord from Kevin’s guitar stopped him, thank God. I jerked my attention toward the stage, because my sister was squealing like a freaking idiot.

Kevin McCrae was a freshman in college. He was tall and well built, with longish curly dark hair, incredible blue eyes and glasses. I thought he looked a little too much like “thoughtful-sensitive man,” but if Wren liked the look of him, who was I to judge? After all, I was trying really hard not to stare at Ben.

He did a couple of covers—Beatles tunes and something by Nirvana. He played well and had a fabulous voice. I hated to admit it, but I enjoyed his set—until his last song.

“This is a song I wrote,” he said in his low, slightly raspy voice. “It’s for Wrenleigh.”

I swear to God my heart freaking stopped. I tried so hard not to glance at my sister, but it was hard when she was right there—part of me. I could feel her nervous energy fluttering inside me. There were very few people in the town, let alone this room, who would have known Wren’s full name. You would have to go to her grave to see it.

Kevin McCrae had written a song about my sister? Just how well did they know each other? How well could they know each other? I forced myself to listen to the lyrics. Something about hearing ghosts for so long, but then one so beautiful he was in awe of her came to him.

Barf.

And then Kevin looked right at me as he sang, “Did you think of how much it would hurt her when you cut to the bone? I felt her pain calling out to me like it was my own.”

He might as well have gotten off the stage, walked up to me and smashed his guitar over my head. I couldn’t believe it. I just sat there, shocked and frozen like an idiot, my face burning.

Screw that. I tried to stand up, but Wren held me to the chair. She’d known. She’d known about the damn song. She’d known he was going to sing it. Everyone at this table knew what he was singing about.

I never thought my sister would sit and watch me be humiliated, the past shoved in my face one more time.

“Get out of me,” I whispered.

“Lark,” she pleaded. “Just listen to the song, please.”

Wren was preternaturally strong, but I wasn’t without my own talents. If she had a little extra power where the living was concerned, then I had a little more influence over the dead—or at least more experience. I gathered up all the hurt and anger inside me and pushed it at her. It must have surprised her, because she let go easily, lifting out of me to hover a few feet above the table. Show off. I’d have been sprawled on the floor if she shoved that hard at me.

I jumped to my feet and ran, elbowing my way through the audience.

“Watch it, cow,” a girl dressed all in white snarled.

I could snarl, too. “Get out of my way.”

She smirked. “Say please.”

What was this, a CW show? This kind of drama just didn’t happen in real life, did it? I took the plastic top off my cup and dumped what was left of my latte down the front of her. She gasped. Actually, it was more of a roar, but I’d already shoved her aside and kept moving. I didn’t stop when I stepped out into the warm September night but made a beeline straight for my borrowed purple Bug. Nan had been so excited at the prospect of me making friends. God, she was even more naive than I was.

I pressed the button to unlock the car and climbed in, tossing my purse onto the passenger seat. For a moment, I sat there, forehead against the steering wheel. How could I have been so stupid? Hadn’t I learned anything? God, I was so deficient. I was going to have to switch schools because I was too young to drop out. I could probably have gotten into one a town or two over. Maybe. My past would have caught up with me sooner or later, it always did, but for a little while I could have hidden.

I started the car and lifted my head. I’d just slipped the gear into Drive when someone stepped in front of the bumper. The headlights made them look ghoulish, but even ghoulish, Mace was gorgeous.

I put down the window and stuck my head out. “Get out of the way.”

“Give us a minute, will you?” he asked. “We just want to talk to you.”

Roxi appeared by the window. “Please, Lark. I can explain. It was my idea.”

“Explain this.” I flipped her the bird. Then, to Mace, “Move, Ryan.”

Roxi’s hand grabbed my shoulder. Her grip was tight, desperate. “Please.”

I ignored her as I revved the engine, trying to scare Mace. He knew I wasn’t going to run him over, though. Jerk. The others stood there with him, clustered in the headlights with anxious expressions on their faces—not what I’d expect of people wanting to mess with me. And my sister was finally there, just on the edge where I could barely see her. I wasn’t in any danger from these people or she would have been full-on Amityville right now.

Unless she was in on it.

And that really was crazy. A genuine insane thought.

I turned off the car and stepped out, holding the door open between me and them like a shield. “What’s going on?”

Kevin had joined our group, too. He looked at me like I was something he’d just scraped off the bottom of his shoe. I didn’t even know the guy. What was his damage?

Roxi stepped forward, hands held out in front of her, imploringly. “Lark, no one meant to hurt you tonight. I’m sorry if you feel like you’ve been ambushed.”

I raised a brow. “You mean I haven’t been?”

“I told you to be straight with her,” Ben growled. He was all frowny and serious, not quite so pretty, but even more hot. He turned to me. “We asked you here to talk to you.”

I glanced at Roxi. “Not to be my friend, then.” Shouldn’t have said that. Made me sound whiny and pathetic.

She looked like I’d slapped her. “I meant what I said.”

I wanted to believe that, I really did.

“This is stupid,” the darker guy—Gage—said. I remembered him from elementary school. His last name was Moreno. “You guys watch too much TV. She can’t help us, because there’s nothing going on.”

Help them? With what?

I turned my attention back to Ben, but my gaze caught on Sarah instead. “You should get that scratch looked at,” I told her. “It looks infected.”

It was as though I was a hunter with a semiautomatic and they were a herd of deer. They all froze, staring at me.

Sarah’s hand went to her face. “Really?”

“Yeah. You should at least put a bandage on it. Some Neosporin.”

Gage stepped forward, rolling up his sleeves. “What about me? Do I have scratches, too?”

Long, jagged furrows ran the inside length of each of his forearms. They rose up in thick, scarlet welts that oozed wetly under the streetlights.

I made a face. “What the hell have you been into?” I asked them, but I shouldn’t have asked. Hell, I shouldn’t have let them know I could even see them. I knew my mistake as soon as the light hit his arms in the right way, allowing me to see that tar-like tinge that clung to the wounds.

“Oh, hell,” I whispered. “You pissed off a ghost.”

No one else could see their scratches. Even they couldn’t see them, but I bet they could feel them. Some ghosts were nasty that way.

“Oh, Lark,” Wren whispered. “This is bad.”

“Did it get all of you?” I asked.

“Not me,” Kevin said, but the rest nodded.

I glanced at each of them. I didn’t want to get involved in this. But...shit. I couldn’t just walk away. They had no idea what they’d gotten into.

Roxi shot a fierce look at Sarah. “I told you Ben was right. I told you something happened that night.”

Sarah’s jaw was slack, her eyes wide. Her fingers were still pressed to the wound on her face. “It’s not possible,” she whispered. “Ghosts aren’t real.”

“There’s one here right now,” Kevin informed her hotly. Huh. Mr. Sixth Sense all ready to snap to my sister’s defense. I liked him at that moment. A little.

Gage shook his head. “This is so fucked up.”

I turned to Ben. “How did you know?”

He shrugged. “I felt it.”

“You believe in this stuff?” Mace demanded. He looked from Kevin to Ben like he felt betrayed by them. “That’s just great.”

“And you don’t?” I asked. “Come on, Mace. You’re smarter than that.”

He glared at me. He blamed me, I think. He’d been living in perfect ignorance before being dragged into my world.

Gage stood there, rubbing at his forearms. He looked scared and confused. “Ghosts are real?”

For a second, there was silence. Then, I said, “Yes.” There went that promise I’d made to keep myself out of trouble. To keep my head down and not attract attention.

“We have to help them,” Wren insisted.

I glanced at her. “Can’t help them if they don’t want it,” I replied.

Gage was watching me. “Who are you talking to?”

I sighed. “My sister. She’s dead.”

He paled a little. “Oh, shit. The stories about you are true?”

Roxi patted him on the arm. “It’s okay.”

Mace and Sarah exchanged glances, then looked at Gage, Roxi, Ben and Kevin. None of them wanted this to be true. In fact, I expected them to protest a little harder, but they weren’t stupid. They knew something was off.

“Can you help us get rid of it?” Roxi asked, her hand over her stomach.

“Yeah,” added Gage. “What do we do?”

Okay, so they were ready to admit that something was wrong. That meant that they were open to believing in ghosts, and that for the first time in my life I was with people who just might believe me.

I didn’t know everything about ghosts, but I knew more than they did. I knew more than most people did. And Wren knew way more than me. Still, she and I just sort of figured things out as we went along. We weren’t exactly experts.

“We’re all they’ve got,” my sister whispered. Kevin’s gaze jerked in her direction. Just how sensitive was he to her presence?

“Where did you find it?” I asked. Cool fingers curled around mine and squeezed. My sister, giving her approval. I had an awful feeling that this was going to bite me on the ass.

“Fairfield Cemetery,” Sarah replied.

I shook my head. And closed the Beetle’s door. I wasn’t going anywhere just then.

“Lark, that’s not right,” Wren insisted. “Do you hear me? I said it’s not—”

I shot her a glare. “I know.” Did she think I’d forgotten about Kevin and his little song during this drama?

“Are you talking to your sister again?” Sarah asked hesitantly.

I tried to smile. It didn’t work. “Yes.”

“Her name’s Wren,” Kevin said, stepping into the circle. He shot me a glance. I gave him the finger. He’d flapped his lips about my sister enough already.

“Ghosts don’t haunt cemeteries,” I informed them. “Cemeteries are sanctuaries. There’s nothing there but bones and peace. Ghosts need something to hold on to—a person, place or thing. When ghosts need to feed they go back to a place they knew in life where they might find the living. Your ghost is from somewhere else. Where else have you been that’s close to there?”

They all looked around, shaking their heads.

“At least one of you has been somewhere else. Maybe you walked across property near the graveyard? Trespassed somewhere?”

That shared glance was all the answer I needed. “Where?” I demanded.

“Haven Crest,” Gage said, voice hoarse and face white. “The old...hospital. We cut across the grounds one night.”

I made a face at his choice of term, which I knew had been for my benefit. Haven Crest had been an asylum in the most horror-movie sense of the word. Every kid in town knew about it by the time he or she was ten. Some even dared to brave its rusted gates. I knew better. I saw what was there. Those memories kicked my heart into overdrive and brought back other memories, of pills being forced down my throat as the ghosts of Bell Hill looked on, some of them eager for a chance to “play” when my senses were dulled and I couldn’t fight back.

“You’re on your own,” I told them and pivoted on my heel. “Good luck.”

“Wait!” Roxi cried. “You’re not going to help us?”

“I can’t,” I told her. “I’m sorry.” And I really was.

“Lark, we have to help them,” Wren insisted, but I turned away.

Someone grabbed my arm, but it wasn’t Wren. It was Mace, and he looked angry. And afraid. Of all the people to grab me, to make me look them in the eye, why did it have to be the one who had saved my sorry life? Yes, they’d locked me up after he did it, but I was here because of him. I owed him.

“You can’t tell us we need your help and then walk away,” he said.

I shook my head as though he’d been the one to remind me of that fact. “I won’t do it. You can’t make me go there. Do you know what that place is? Do you know what it’s like to be surrounded by ghosts that don’t have any sense of right and wrong? To be strapped to a bed and unable to fight when creatures who get off on pain come to play?” Tears filled my eyes and I refused to be ashamed of them. “You don’t know, and I can’t do that again.”

“You’re right,” he said. “I just know this.” And then he shoved my hand under his shirt, flat against the smooth, muscled wall of his chest. I gasped at the heat there—the burning ridges that scorched my palm. He had the scratches, too.

Heat raced up my arm. No, it was like my arm was on fire. I cried out. Wren reached for me... My head snapped back—eyes, too.

Pain. Blood. Suffering. Terrible images filled my brain, each moving too fast to be sure of what I was seeing. I heard screams and laughter, tasted blood and tears. And I burned.

Then I saw them—Mace, Roxi, Gage, Sarah, Ben and Kevin—all of them. They were dead—ripped apart by something with huge claws. Their blood covered the floor of what looked like an old medical ward. Rats scurried along the edge of the growing crimson pool.

Mace’s face—what was left of it—turned toward me. Something had ripped out his eyes, but I knew he could see me. “You,” he rasped.

And there was Wren, clacking like a vulture, squatting among all the gore. Black clots of blood matted her hair, stained the skin around her mouth. I watched in horror as she lifted unnaturally long, bloody hands. Each finger had become a wicked razor-sharp claw, and from those claws dangled a cluster of eyeballs—like an upside down bunch of small, macabre balloons. I saw Roxi’s eyes and Mace’s eyes, and Sarah’s. They all turned to stare at me accusingly.

My sister grinned at me before popping one of them into her mouth.

I screamed.