So Fell The Sparrow

by Katie Jennings

  Grace instinctively shifted over in her seat then realized she was being stupid. “Ha ha, very funny.”

  Jackie tilted her head slightly and focused on the empty air to Grace’s left. “Actually, he’s quite friendly. He’s just dying for some pepper for his soup. No pun intended.”

  Ian broke out into laughter and Grace gawked at him. He didn’t laugh like that when she said something witty.

  She didn’t even try to reign in her attitude as she frowned at Jackie and her flashy attire. “You are aware that it’s not Halloween yet, aren’t you?”

  Ian bit back a grin, amused by Grace’s obvious jealousy. He found it incredibly entertaining.

  Jackie propped her elbows up on the table and sipped at her fragile white and blue tea cup. She stared into Grace’s eyes wistfully, as though seeing right through her. “I always say there’s a shortage of color in the world,” she mused, her eyes drifting up and sideways as she stared around the diner. “This town is fascinating. Everyone is so…small.”

  Grace’s hand came up to knead her right temple as she shook her head. “Do I dare ask what you mean by that? Or do you believe the town is being overrun by midgets?”

  Jackie sighed contentedly. “There’s no large worries here, nothing from the outside affects this place. It’s as if a bubble covers the whole town. It makes everyone small and inconsequential, like tiny figures in a snow globe.”

  Ian continued to watch Grace, enjoying the range of emotions flash over her face. Amusement to confusion to disbelief. That he also found fascinating.

  “I’d say that makes sense,” he put in, tilting his head to look at Jackie. “Grace here lives in a haunted house.”

  “You don’t say?” Jackie perked up, eyes wide with intrigue.

  Grace shot Ian a dark look. “Ian thinks my house is haunted, but really he’s just looking for something to do with his trivial, pointless existence.”

  “We’re doing an investigation tomorrow night. If you’re not busy, you should come by,” Ian said to Jackie.

  She smiled at him. “Do we have to wait till tomorrow?”

  “Nope.” Ian winked at Grace. “You don’t mind, do ya, Doc?”

  Grace imagined strangling him and let that image put some cheer into her voice. “Of course not. Strangers are always welcome in my house.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Ian set down his empty coffee mug and pulled some cash out of his pocket. “Why don’t we get going?”

  Jackie rose smoothly from the booth, her every movement easy and languid. “I’ll follow you in my Jeep. I have Gatsby with me.”

  “Oh, really? Jay Gatsby’s hanging out in your car? Is Daisy with him?” Grace snickered.

  “That would be amusing, but no,” Jackie replied, seeming to have missed the sarcasm. “Gatsby is my Corgi.”

  “A dog.” Grace’s smile fell. She hated dogs.

  “He’s very well behaved,” Jackie said as she walked past, the vivid sapphire, gold, and burgundy of her skirt flowing behind her. Grace mumbled under her breath as she got to her feet, avoiding Ian’s eyes.

  His face broke into a smile as he followed her out, sincerely looking forward to seeing more of that angry heat color her face. It gave her back some of that life he knew she must have had in spades before whatever twist of fate rendered her broken.

  * * *

  Alex expertly hooked up the last camera in the corner of Grace’s bedroom. The small, portable radio beside him was tuned to the only classic rock station he could find. Black Sabbath poured out in a haze of electric guitar and Ozzy Osbourne’s signature voice wailed about paranoia.

  He tapped his foot to the rhythm, completely in his element. Anytime he had the opportunity to tinker with wires and camera equipment he was in heaven. He had the mind of an engineer and the patience of a surgeon, two of the three things required to be a good video and audio tech. The third was, of course, luck. His luck ran out at the last location, but he was determined not to hit the same snag this time.

  He flipped the power switch on the wires he’d run throughout the upstairs, not wanting to take the chance of the batteries dying again. Since there was an available power source, he’d use it.

  Turning on the camera, he adjusted the lens so it got as much of the room in view as possible. The sound of the front door opening and closing echoed through the house, punctuated with Grace and Ian’s bickering.

  “Can’t we all just get along?” Alex muttered to himself, shaking his head. He never understood why some people enjoyed arguing so much. He’d always labeled himself as a lover, not a fighter. Anger and grudges just weren’t his style.

  Continuing to stare at the camera’s tiny screen, he made a few more adjustments. When someone suddenly walked through the door and into the room, he caught a flash of sapphire and burgundy and looked up to face a stranger.

  For a moment, he thought he was seeing things. She wafted into the room as though on air, her movements graceful and unhurried. Her hand trailed over the walls, her dark eyes serenely taking in the room. When she spotted him she smiled, yet said nothing as though it were perfectly normal for her to be there.

  “Hi,” he greeted, unable to say more. He cursed himself for being tongue-tied at such a crucial moment. She was, without a doubt, the most stunning creature he had ever seen.

  Jackie paused in front of the wide windows to stare out at the harbor. “Hi there.”

  Alex attempted to swallow the lump in his throat. “Are you a psychic? I’ve always wanted to have my palm read,” he blurted out, immediately wincing at his stupidity. Why the hell did he just say that?

  “Me too,” she replied easily, turning to face him. She wandered over, eyeing the camera equipment and the wires. “Though I value the mystery of not knowing my future.”

  He shrugged, unable to do more as she breezed past him, the rich scent of sandalwood invading his senses. “Are you a friend of Grace’s?”

  “Are you hoping to catch a ghost?” Jackie asked as she ran a finger down the side of the camera, fascinated.

  Alex grinned. “That’s what I do. I’m a ghost hunter.”

  “You are?” Her eyes met his and held for a long, quiet moment. Then she broke the gaze and drifted back to the window. “I love the view from up here.”

  Alex watched her, unsure whether to be amused or nervous. Before he could make up his mind, he heard Ian and Grace arguing loudly as they came up the stairs. Both looked ill-tempered when they came into the room.

  “You better unplug this camera tonight, buddy.” Grace pointed an accusatory finger at Alex, her other hand on her hip. “This isn’t a free peep show.”

  Alex laughed. “Point taken. Can I ask what she’s doing here?” He nodded in Jackie’s direction.

  Ian perked up. “Alex, this is Jackie. She’s a medium that we met at the diner.”

  “Ian was gracious enough to invite her over,” Grace put in bitterly, crossing her arms. “Though I think there’s enough crazy people in my house as it is.”

  “Cool.” Alex grinned at Jackie. “Welcome aboard.”

  Jackie continued to stare out the window as though she’d heard none of it. “That dock is a lonely little place. Death claimed someone there long ago.”

  They all fell silent and stared at her. Ian and Alex looked eager, while Grace was mortified. She gaped at the other woman, her heart faltering. She wouldn’t have cared so much if she hadn’t thought the same exact thing about the dock. Did that mean she was right? Had something horrible happened there?

  “How can you tell?” Ian asked, whipping out his digital recorder so he could capture her response on tape.

  Jackie looked over her shoulder at him. “It’s stained black with pain. With death.”

  Grace shivered, the woman’s words disturbing her. She wanted to shrug them off, but instead they festered in her mind as panic rose like a slippery snake into her throat.

  Without a word to the others, Grace left the room. Her pulse hammered beneath her ski
n as she stumbled down the stairs and out onto the front porch. The chill of the misty evening air blasted her face, and she embraced it with relief as she fell onto the front steps. She pulled her knees tight against her and bowed her head.

  She fought to control her breathing, to stabilize her heart rate. The last thing she needed was to start having panic attacks, yet she had no control over it. She knew she had all the symptoms.

  Something about the dock and the idea of dying there horrified her. It brought all her personal demons to the surface to trample over her grief-stricken heart.

  A hand touched her shoulder, cool and comforting. Someone sat down and wrapped an arm over her.

  “Be still, child,” Nellie murmured, her strong and solid presence soothing. “You’re taking so much on at once.”

  “You didn’t give me a choice,” Grace replied wearily, lifting her head to meet her neighbor’s soft brown eyes.

  Nellie smiled. “Because there is no choice to make. The spirits must be banished from the house before you can know peace here.”

  Grace shook her head, filled with resentment. “I still don’t believe that. I can’t.”

  “You will.” Nellie patted her shoulder then rose to her feet. “Such things don’t always come easily.”

  Grace watched her leave, considering her neighbor’s words. Nearby, Jackie’s dog lay calmly in the grass, tongue hanging out in a happy smile. As Nellie approached, a sudden change came over him. A low growl rumbled from his throat, his ears flicking back as he bared his teeth. He stared up at Nellie, inching backward as though threatened. A bark flew from his throat, a sharp yelp that echoed around the empty street.

  Nellie ignored the dog and kept walking. Grace stared at him irritably, wondering what had gotten into him.

  “Stupid dog,” she muttered under her breath. It reminded her of the tabby cat and its equally sudden switch from friendly to hostile.

  But once Nellie was gone from sight, Grace noticed Gatsby settle back down onto the grass. He sent a doggie grin her way, completely at ease.

  * * *

  An hour later, she uncorked a fresh bottle of wine in the kitchen. As she poured it, Jackie wandered down the stairs and joined her, looking calm and politely curious.

  Grace could hear Ian and Alex upstairs packing up before they left for the night. They would be back in twenty-four hours to begin the investigation.

  Jackie came over to the kitchen island, resting her elbows on it as she relaxed. Gatsby trotted around at her feet, then plopped down beside her. She rubbed his back with her bare foot as she admired the butcher block wood, her fingers tracing over the scars and grooves from times past.

  “Would you like a glass of wine?” Grace offered, feeling oddly sociable.

  Jackie glanced up, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “That would be lovely.”

  Grace said nothing as she poured an extra glass and brought both over to the island. She handed one to Jackie and attempted a smile. “I apologize if I’ve been…rude.”

  Jackie sipped at the wine, savoring the taste. “I don’t blame you.”

  “Well, thank you,” Grace mumbled, fighting back the urge to roll her eyes. “So, what are you doing in this Podunk little town?”

  “The wind blew me here,” Jackie replied, humor lighting her face. “What about you?”

  Despite everything, Grace laughed. “The same.”

  Jackie drank more of her wine and glanced around the room. “You’re not quite at home in this house yet.”

  “I’ve only been here a couple of weeks.” Grace followed Jackie’s gaze, feeling sentimental. “I won’t be here much longer.”

  Jackie set her wine glass down on the island before wandering into the living room, admiring the antique furniture. She came to a stop before the grandfather clock, reaching up to touch the glass covering its face.

  “Do you feel anything off about this place?” Grace asked.

  Jackie let her hand fall. “The doctor is very sad to see you here.”

  Grace stiffened. “Did you talk to Nellie? Did she tell you to say that?”

  Jackie shook her head slowly. “I spoke to no one but you, Ian, and Alex.”

  “Tell me more, then. What else did this doctor say?” Grace snapped angrily, setting her now empty glass aside to join Jackie in the living room. She saw the sorrow pass over Jackie’s features, the empathy. It made her stomach turn over hideously.

  “He says this house is a burden you shouldn’t have to bear.”

  Grace felt sick and immediately sat down on the sofa. She buried her face in her hands and let out a long, slow sigh, struggling to make sense of everything. Jackie had to be lying to her about not talking to Nellie. There was no other possible explanation. Except that the woman hadn’t left the house since arriving, and Nellie had not been by to see her since she had comforted her on the porch.

  She heard Ian and Alex come into the room and lifted her head. She struggled to keep the sharp sting of doubt and misery from showing in her expression. The last thing she needed was anyone else’s pity.

  Ian’s eyes found hers, and despite her best efforts, he saw the pain she felt. It darkened the storm gray of her eyes, creased her forehead, and softened the curve of her mouth. In that moment, he saw why so many others would consider her beautiful. She had the haunting frailty of a woman who had seen a lifetime’s worth of suffering.

  It was amazing how well she hid it most of the time.

  “We’re going to take off,” he said quietly.

  Beside him, Alex shifted one of the empty duffle bags on his shoulder, then bent over to rub Gatsby’s belly. He nodded to Jackie. “You’ll be back tomorrow? We just remembered it’s going to be Halloween. Should make for an even better investigation.”

  Jackie smiled and looked down at Grace. “I don’t have any plans. If I am welcome, I’ll be here.”

  Grace simply nodded. She knew Ian was still watching her, but she didn’t have the courage to face him again. It bothered her that he could read her so easily.

  “Well, goodnight.” Alex left, Jackie and Gatsby following him. Ian hung back, unsure why he felt obligated to do so.

  He couldn’t help but feel as though she shouldn’t be alone.

  Grace glanced at him, her face a cold, emotionless mask. “Aren’t you going?”

  He hesitated, warring with the conflict inside of him; the desire to help and the instinct to mind his own damn business. Knowing the latter was the best for his sanity, he nodded at her. “Goodnight, Doc.” He turned and left, shutting the front door quietly behind him.

  Grace listened for the sound of their cars leaving. When she knew they had gone, she closed her eyes and sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. All at once, she felt an invisible shroud settle over the room, weighing down upon her head like a wet blanket. It suffocated her and seemed to darken the light, as though attempting to extinguish it.

  Fearing she was having another panic attack, she shot to her feet and grabbed her purse and car keys, desperate to free herself of the house. She had to get outside, out into the open where it couldn’t harm her anymore.

  She left the front door open and stumbled out to her car, her hands shaking as she unlocked it and threw herself inside. Within moments, she was out on the open highway, the windows rolled down to let the cold night wind explode into the car.

  The haunting lilt of Stevie Nicks’ voice warbled out of the stereo, lamenting dreams of loneliness and thunder.

  Tears began to roll down Grace’s face, though she had no idea what was wrong with her or what was happening.

  The image of the little girl’s face flashed in her mind, blinding her with a hard, shocking pain. She slammed on the brakes and squealed to a stop on the side of the road, her breath coming out in ragged gasps.

  “The sparrow,” she whispered, her heart breaking into two, horrible pieces.

  After a few moments of sitting in shattered silence, she got back onto the highway and turned around. She didn
’t know what, or why, or how, but something pulled her back.

  There would be no leaving the Sparrow House.

  ACT 2: SPIRITS

  He was exhaled; his great Creator drew His spirit, as the sun the morning dew.

  —John Dryden

  And what the dead had no speech for, when living, they can tell you, being dead: the communication of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living.

  —T. S. Eliot

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Jackie drove through the night, her headlights barely cutting through the heavy fog. The air swirled around her, the open top and sides of the Jeep exposing her to the elements. She could have put the cover on and protected herself, but she didn’t mind the feel of the mist on her skin. It was part of what she enjoyed about east coast towns like Mad Rock Harbor.

  The town was a far cry from the temperamental midwestern storms she’d long ago forsaken, her perpetually itchy feet carrying her elsewhere. Anywhere but there. She was a woman who called no particular place home. Instead, she brought her sense of home with her everywhere she went.

  She had seen the sun set on the bluffs of the California desert, walked the well-traveled city streets of New York, and dipped her toes in the warm waters of Florida. She’d taken a lover in the heady splendor of Barcelona, kissed the blarney stone in Dublin, and sipped tequila in the tropical heat of Mexico.

  She lived her life by the mantra that not all who wander are lost.

  She’d never once felt lost, not in all her travels. Instead, she considered every step she took to be one more rung on destiny’s ladder. She trusted her every whim, her every desire, to fate. For fate had never once let her down.

  It was fate that had led her to Mad Rock Harbor. She wasn’t sure why, but she was certain that the hauntingly lovely Grace and her ghost hunters were a part of it.

  And that house…Lord, what she felt there deeply concerned her. The confliction of emotion, both living and dead, was almost more than she could handle. But she had learned long ago how to conceal the immense feelings her sight gave to her. All it seemed to do was frighten those around her, or persuade them to doubt her sanity. While she was never one to let the opinions of others hurt her, she still held on to her instinctual self-preservation.