Song for the Dead: An Ada Palomino Novel

by Karina Halle

  Then Max talked to my dad, and I don’t know what the hell he said to him, but now he’s totally cool with this road trip too. It feels like dirty dealings to be honest, the manipulation. But if my dad is fine with it, I mean, what he doesn’t really know can’t hurt him. I should have asked Max to make my dad go out with friends more, just to get him out of the damn house.

  But even though the school and my dad seem fine with me leaving, I’m not one hundred percent. The thing is, I don’t want to miss school because I actually like it, and I know I have a big midterm in March that I need to start prepping for. So I’m bringing all my textbooks, fashion mags, and my iPad full of virtual subscriptions, plus a bag of fabrics and a mini sewing machine just in case. I’ll feel less guilty this way.

  I dab some more concealer under my eyes, then add a dash of dark green eyeliner on my bottom lids before running some texturizer through my hair until it looks artfully undone, like a lion’s mane. I opted to wear jeggings and a light cashmere sweater with skulls on it, plus Chanel sneakers. Not quite dressed up, but comfortable enough for a road trip and flexible enough in case I have to fight any demons today.

  I hope I don’t though. My hands are healed from where that punk-ass demon kid’s skin burned me, though it makes me wonder why that didn’t happen to me before in the haunted house. Maybe because the house was technically the Veil, whereas these demons straight-up walked out into our world.

  “Ada!” my dad yells again.

  “Coming!” I yell back, running down the stairs and grabbing my leather jacket from the back of a chair. I figured if we’re going south, I don’t need to dress for winter weather anymore. God, it’s going to feel so nice to feel warmth and sun on my skin.

  My dad is waiting by the door with my big suitcase. He lifts it up and winces. “What on earth did you pack?”

  “Hey, I need my outfits,” I tell him. “And my schoolwork.”

  I take the bag, looking him over. “Are you sure you’re okay with me going?”

  He smiles. Seems genuine enough. “Of course. I totally understand.”

  “That I need to go to New Orleans…with Max…” I know I’m pushing my luck here but.

  “Yes. We’ve already discussed this. It’s important that he gets his documents and his old stuff back.”

  “From Rose…”

  “Yes, from Rose. I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”

  I stare at him for a moment, then wave my hand in front of his face. “These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.”

  He frowns. “What? What droids?”

  “Never mind,” I quickly tell him, then give him a hug. “Take care. Go out for dinner with Debbie or something while I’m gone.”

  “We’ll see,” he says, opening the door for me. “Let me take your bag.”

  “I’ve got it, Dad,” I tell him. “Been working out.”

  I lift up the suitcase with ease, which impresses the both of us, then I carry it down the front steps, pausing in my tracks when I see the car waiting for me at the curb.

  It’s a black vintage muscle car, exhaust rising from the back.

  Holy shit. This is the car we’re road tripping in? It’s the coolest, sexiest car I’ve ever seen. Wonder where he stole it from?

  I drag my suitcase down the path as he rolls down the window and grins at me. I have to admit, he suits this car extremely well.

  “Get in, loser,” he says to me.

  “So you finally saw Mean Girls,” I comment.

  “Mean Girls?” He frowns and gets out of the car. “Let me.” He takes the suitcase from me like it weighs as much as a feather and opens the trunk, tossing it in.

  “This car is amazing,” I tell him, running my hand over the roof.

  “I know,” he says, then turns and raises his hand to my father who is still standing in the front door, watching us. “I’ll return her in one piece, Mr. Palomino. You trust me.”

  “I trust you,” he says, nodding. He smiles at me. “Love you, Ada.”

  Then he turns around and goes inside.

  I shake my head, eyeing Max with awe. “I can’t believe I’m going to have to start calling you Ginger Jedi now.”

  “That’s a nickname I can live with,” he says with a smirk. “Now come on, the open road is calling.”

  He gets behind the wheel and I hurry over to the passenger side, sliding onto the soft black leather seats, tossing my jacket in the back where it lands on his leather jacket.

  “You have a leather jacket now?” I ask. “We can’t wear them at the same time.”

  “Why not?” he asks, revving the engine until the whole car shakes. “We’re a team.”

  “A team of demon slayers. Not dorks.”

  “Speak for yourself.”

  Then he slams the gear, steps on the gas, and we go rocketing forward down the road, so fast that I’m pressed back into the seat, frantically trying to buckle my seatbelt.

  “And you were giving me shit about driving!?” I yell at him as we reach the end of the cul-de-sac. He burns it around, doing a donut, and I’m holding onto the oh shit handle with all my might until we straighten out.

  We zoom past my house just in time for me to see my dad at the living room window, waving cheerfully at us. Dear god.

  Max laughs maniacally as we speed down the road, obviously enjoying the look of fear on my face. “Now you know how it feels,” he says.

  “You know we could have taken my car.”

  “Then you’d be driving,” he points out. “No way.”

  I cross my arms and then look in the back. “When did you get that jacket anyway? Is it Sage’s?”

  “No, I went to the store and bought it. That place you and Perry dragged me to.”

  “All Saints?” I reach back and grab the jacket, looking at it. It’s black with moto quilting on the shoulders. Pretty slick. Actually, I think it’s the same one I made him try on before Perry nixed the idea when she saw the price.

  “Yeah,” he says. “I remember you said it looked good on me.”

  I study him for a moment. He looks completely earnest, if not a little bashful for admitting that.

  “I have to say, I’m touched my opinion matters to you.”

  He glances at me quickly, eyes soft, the green looking more mint today. “Of course it does.”

  A long, strangely weighted moment passes between us, making me shift in my seat. “When it comes to fashion, of course,” I hastily add.

  He nods. “Naturally.”

  “So, wait, how were you able to go to the store without me?”

  He shrugs, attention back to the road. “Same way I was able to buy this car.”

  “As a ghost?”

  “It doesn’t work quite like that.”

  “So how does it work? Because I have to say, it’s been a few days and it’s been kind of hard to deal with the whole ‘I’m keeping you alive’ thing. It’s a lot of pressure for little ol’ me.”

  He flashes me a sad smile. “I know. I’m still figuring it out.” He sighs, kneading the steering wheel. “But so far, I reckon I can be apart from you as long as I see you at some point in the day. Is it every twenty-four hours? More? Less? Guess we won’t know for a while. You’re stuck with me, darlin’. It’s why I haven’t stayed at my apartment yet.”

  “But do you feel any different when you’re away from me? Like…you’re losing…life?”

  “It’s more like losing a charge. Battery draining. But no one could tell by looking at me. It’s not like I was going transparent. I would have noticed.”

  “And when you’re with me you get charged again?”

  “I guess.”

  “What happens when I touch you?”

  I reach out and place my hand over his on the steering wheel. He frowns, giving me a look I can’t read. “Does that do anything for you?” I ask. Because I can feel a bit of energy, a bit of warmth, running from my palm to the top of his hand.

  He clears his throat, looking twitchy
. “Maybe.”

  I take my hand away. It buzzes slightly. I think back to the times I’ve touched him or he’s touched me to see if I’ve felt something similar. I mean, I guess? We’ve been pretty physical with each other because of our training, but I’m so in the zone at those times that if I felt sparks every time I touched him, I don’t think I would have noticed. Besides, everything is sparking when I’m running on that energy.

  “Do you feel drained?” he asks after a moment.

  I shake my head. “Not at all.”

  “Well, at least there’s that.”

  We drive in silence for a bit until we make our way out of Portland and onto the I-5 heading south. Then, about an hour in, Max surprises me by taking the exit through Eugene to Florence on the Oregon Coast.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Taking the scenic route,” he says.

  I take out my phone and start going through the maps, zooming in and out of the country. “The interstates are so much quicker. We could cut through to Bend and then through Idaho and Salt Lake City.”

  “We could,” he says lightly. “Or we could go down the coast. Oregon, California. Go to the beach, watch the sunset.” He glances at me. “I’m not in a rush.”

  “But I am,” I tell him. “My school.”

  “You’ll be fine.”

  “Your Jedi mind tricks don’t work on me.”

  “No mind tricks. Just telling it like it is.”

  “Max.”

  “Ada,” he replies. “Look, I’ve never driven down the coast before. Not all of it anyway. The redwoods, Big Sur, I want to see it all. I’ve been given a second chance at life, I’m not going to pass that up. I’ve learned my lesson.”

  “And the lesson is?”

  “Do the things you’ve dreamed about doing. Our days here are numbered.”

  Great. I’m being held hostage while Max crosses out his second chance at life bucket list.

  I decide to make the best of it. I pull my iPad from my purse and start going through my online magazine subscriptions while we drive down the narrow winding highway to the coast, moss-shrouded forest on both sides. I’m reminded of doing the same with Jay, before we were even together. A different highway, but still the same idea. God, it feels like a million years ago, even though it was just over a year, and I was a totally different person.

  “Stressed?” Max asks me.

  I glance up at him, trying to shake the thoughts of Jay.

  “What?”

  “You seem stressed. Is it school?”

  “Oh.” I glance down at the iPad. “No. No, it’ll be fine.”

  I can feel his eyes on me, patiently waiting for the real answer.

  When I don’t say anything, he says, “So tell me about Jay.”

  Fucking mind reader.

  “What is there to say?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sure I’ll be talking your ear off about Rose on this trip, so you might as well tell me about the boy that broke your heart. Pity it ended up being one of my brethren.”

  “Yeah, bunch of heartbreakers you lot are.”

  “I’ll have you know I’ve never broken anyone’s heart.”

  “Well, that’s probably not for lack of trying.”

  “So what happened with you two?”

  I sigh and lean back in my seat, watching the green scenery pass, the clouds hanging low on the sides of the valley. “Do you want the long version or the short version? Both end the same.”

  “We have forty-five minutes until we hit Florence and get some clam chowder. I say the long version.”

  I exhale loudly. “Okay. Well, I guess it started like it did for you and Rose. He appeared in my life, living next door, and the next thing I knew he was trying to train me. And…I don’t know. I felt something for him I’ve never felt for anyone else before.”

  “Was he your first boyfriend?”

  I shake my head. “No. I had boyfriends in high school. I didn’t lose my virginity to him, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “I wasn’t asking that.”

  “Actually, he was the virgin.”

  Max bursts out laughing. “Oh, is that so? You deserve better than that.”

  “Hey,” I say, feeling defensive on Jay’s behalf. “He knew what he was doing, okay?”

  Max is trying not to smile, though his eyes are dancing. “Fine, I believe you.”

  “Anyway, that doesn’t matter. We were good together. Really, really good.”

  He gives me a sympathetic wince, cuz obviously looking back, we weren’t that good if it all fell apart.

  “I take it Jacob didn’t know,” he says.

  “No. Well, not at first. We were able to hide it from him.”

  “How?”

  “I can put up walls.”

  Max glances at me, brows raised. “You can what?”

  I manage a smile, enjoying that I caught him off-guard. “I can put up walls. Actual walls that keep people from looking at my head. Or in the case of Jay, at the two of us. I was able to hide us.”

  Max lets out a low whistle. “Ada Palomino, you’re impressing me more each day. You ever do that with me?”

  “No. Why would I?”

  “I reckon you like to keep your thoughts private.”

  “Well, are you the nosy type to go prying around in my brain?”

  He shakes his head. “I respect you too much for that, darlin’.”

  “Even though you knew I was upset about Jay a few minutes ago?”

  “I don’t have to read your thoughts to know that. Your sadness radiates off of you. It’s hard to keep away from it.”

  “Oh.” Fuck. Am I that obvious? Am I never getting better, never getting over him? Just a walking open wound?

  “Luckily, I also feel like shit twenty-four seven, so it doesn’t make any difference to me. Your sorrow, my sorrow, it’s all the same.”

  “Well, this is going to be one hell of a fun trip, isn’t it?”

  The corner of his mouth lifts as he glances at me. “It’s just the beginning, Ada. It’ll get better.”

  And it does get a little bit better when we hit the quaint town of Florence and pull into a chowder house along the Florence River. I’m starving and dying to get out and stretch my legs.

  “You know Jay took me to a similar place up in Seaside,” I tell Max as we sit at a table by the window. It’s pretty busy in here so we lucked out with the good seats.

  “Is this bringing back the memories?” he asks as he flips over the plastic menu.

  “Yeah,” I admit. “But, I mean, it’s not the exact same. You’re here.”

  “Lucky you,” he muses, looking over the items on the menu. “So then, what would you recommend?”

  “Clam chowder, obviously.”

  “Alrighty. I’ll get that. Wanna split a basket of friend shrimp with me too?” he asks.

  “Only if it’s the coconut shrimp.”

  “Done.”

  “And I want a beer.”

  “Let me guess, you have a fake ID on you.”

  “Nope,” I tell him. “Just want to see if you can get away with it. See my Ginger Jedi in action.”

  “Your Ginger Jedi?” he repeats wryly.

  “I’m keeping you alive, aren’t I?”

  He laughs softly. “I’m going to regret telling you that.”

  “Honestly,” I say, getting serious for a moment. “I’m glad you did. I’m so fucking tired of being kept in the dark. That’s where everyone likes to keep me. Jay. Jacob. Perry. Even my dad. I’m the last to know everything. It’s like…no one ever trusts me with the truth. They don’t think I’m mature enough or brave enough to handle it.”

  “I’m always going to be a straight shooter with you, Ada,” he says gravely. “I was far too duplicitous in my past life. Not going to do that this time around. Besides, you deserve to know the truth, about everything. Maybe they don’t think you can handle it, but I do. I know you can handle anything thrown your way. You’ve
already proven it.”

  Well, shit. What he just said warms my heart a little. Or like, a lot. When it feels like no one believes in you, when no one sees what you’re capable of, hearing this means something. Even if it’s just coming from Max.

  But before I can get all mushy on him, the waitress comes by and takes our order, which Max places for us.

  “And the lady here will have a Corona,” Max says, pointing at me with the menu and flashing the woman a smile.

  Now, I can’t actually see if he’s doing anything manipulative in his head, but his smile is charming as hell and the woman is blushing like crazy. If I’m going to be objective about it, Max is handsome as hell and I’m starting to wonder if part of his influence is just because he’s hot.

  Hot? I do a double-take at my own thoughts, then quickly shove them aside as the waitress turns her attention to me.

  “Are you of age, sweetie?” she asks me.

  “She’s of age,” Max says, and the waitress looks back at him.

  She nods, that smile still frozen on her face. “Okey dokey,” she says brightly. “Coming right up.”

  I watch as she walks off, then look back at Max. “I should have asked for a margarita.”

  “Sweetheart, you think this place serves good margaritas?” he asks. “Let’s wait until we at least get to California.”

  I grin at him, feeling excited at the prospect of heading south.

  “So, was it all you dreamed of?” he asks me. The waitress then comes by with red plastic glasses filled with water and I wait until she leaves again.

  “It was. So tell me, how much did you pay for your car outside?”

  “The Super B?” he asks, taking a sip of water. “Paid nothing.”

  “So you stole it.”

  “No. I asked if I could borrow it and the dealer said yes,” he says, tapping his fingers on the table. “I’ll bring it back.”

  “This is dangerous, Max,” I tell him, but it’s a danger I’ll welcome with open arms. “How long have you been able to do this?”