So Fell The Sparrow

by Katie Jennings

“How so?”

  She bit her bottom lip, wondering how she could explain it. “I suppose it’s like being at an amusement park. There’s this rush of people going every which way, lost in their own minds, their own agendas. Some of them stand around motionless, caught in the moment, others press onward even though there’s no place to go. There’s the pushy vendors, vying for your attention, desperate to make contact. They know they can get something out of you if they can just catch your eye. And then there’s the rides, and the helpless screams of the people trapped on them. Sometimes it’s impossible to make sense of anything else with all the screaming…”

  Sadness shadowed her face, a lifetime of experiencing death’s despair weighing down upon her. She tried to brush it off, but it radiated off her.

  Alex reached out, pulling her into his arms. She welcomed the warmth he offered, even as she regretted it couldn’t be more.

  “You are the most fascinating person I have ever met,” he said quietly, trying to put humor in his voice to keep the situation lighthearted. But he knew she could see past his act. Her emotions, her words, troubled him more than he cared to admit. How she remained so carefree and compassionate despite the horrors she must see every day astonished him.

  Jackie let the soft cotton of his shirt caress her cheek, the top of her head barely reaching his chin. He smelled of warm pancake syrup and Old Spice, a combination she assumed most people would associate with home. For now, she could pretend that she did too.

  She tilted her head back to look at him and placed a soft kiss on his lips. It was meant to be friendly, but what she told herself in her head negated what she felt in her heart.

  When he pulled her in closer and crushed her mouth with his, she felt her limbs go weak with the exhilaration of it. The madness. That stunning spark of lust, of joy, of romance that she craved the way a drunk yearns for that hot kick of whiskey. She’d never been shy to the art of chemistry, of attraction. When she wanted someone, she made no secret of it.

  She didn’t know why part of her screamed that this time it was different. This time was not going to be as simple as the others. Alex could never be simple. But maybe that was what she desired the most.

  She whispered his name, her hands trailing up to take hold of his shirt and clutch him against her possessively. Her mind spun with wild ideas of his warm, naked skin against her own and of the feel of his hands claiming her.

  She knew she could have that. It would be easy, effortless. But would it be right?

  She broke the kiss, but kept her eyes on his as she pulled away. A smile curved over her lips, teasing and lighthearted. “They raise good kissers in Washington,” she said, distancing herself from him as casually as she could and tossing the ball once again for Gatsby.

  Alex watched her wander off, stunned by the abrupt change of mood. As the shock wore off, delight at the challenge took its place.

  She wasn’t going to get away so easily. He wouldn’t let her. He didn’t care if he had to beg, borrow, and steal his way into her heart.

  It was going to happen, one way or another. His mother hadn’t raised a quitter.

  * * *

  That evening, Grace disappeared upstairs to change into more comfortable clothes. She could hear her new friends through the poorly insulated floor—Jackie’s lilting laughter, Alex’s punchy jokes, Ian’s dry comebacks.

  She closed her eyes, enjoying the sounds and the feeling of having people with her who knew nothing of who she was and nothing of what had happened to her. Jackie claimed to know, but she hadn’t mentioned it again so that was as good as not knowing.

  It was comforting to not have to pretend to be okay. To not have people looking over their shoulders at her, waiting for her to burst into tears or shatter like a broken vase. The three strangers downstairs didn’t expect that of her.

  All they wanted was a chance to help her; a chance to learn the truth about her family. It was still odd to her that anyone would bother helping the way they were. Even though Ian and Alex had something to gain by investigating the house, they were still spending more time there than they needed to. They could have just left the first night with their EVPs and strange temperature readings and called it quits. But they didn’t. They stayed.

  And Jackie and Nellie…neither had any business bothering with her. They could have simply continued with their lives as if Grace didn’t exist. Certainly, Grace had tried to convince them both to do just that.

  But they hadn’t. Did that make them true friends? She considered the people she called friends back home, those who felt so lost to her now. She hadn’t contacted any of them in weeks, hadn’t even thought about them. The memory of that life seemed so foreign to her, as if it was someone else’s past and not her own.

  This house, these people, this town…this was her life now. As were the ghosts that apparently haunted her.

  With a heavy sigh, she slipped on comfy black pajama pants and a faded Led Zeppelin T-shirt before making her way downstairs. As she came into the kitchen, she spotted Ian at the stove with Alex and Jackie standing hip-to-hip at the kitchen island, Gatsby asleep on the floor nearby. She watched curiously as Jackie ran her hand lazily up Alex’s back, the move flirty and affectionate. When Alex tilted his head down to look at her, the spark in his eyes said it all.

  Grace pondered this as she walked over to Ian, feeling uncomfortable. Alex was a really nice guy. Didn’t he see that Jackie wasn’t the kind of girl that stuck around? It was obvious to Grace that the second the wind blew in Jackie would drift away. If Alex got his feelings tied up in her he would only be left to disappointment.

  Then again, why the hell did she care? It wasn’t her problem.

  But part of her envied the easy affection they had for each other. And the other half of her pitied them for it. Love, lust…it only led to heartache. That little lesson she had learned many times over.

  When she came up beside Ian, she fell out of her thoughts and back into reality, her eyes meeting his. The corner of his mouth lifted into a sly smile, and she caught herself enjoying the look of it way too much.

  “What’re we having?” she asked, peering into the pot he was busy stirring.

  “Gumbo.” He spooned up a small amount and held it for her to sip.

  She leaned closer and blew away the steam, her gaze intent on his.

  His breath caught in his throat as he watched her cautiously take a sip, her eyes fluttering closed as she savored it.

  “Oh,” she managed, straightening. She smiled wistfully, biting her lower lip as she met his eyes again. “Now that’s incredible.”

  “Glad you like.” He resisted the urge to touch her and instead went back to stirring. “Why don’t you grab some bowls?”

  She nodded and shot a look over at Alex and Jackie, who had somehow managed to get even closer to each other, their faces nearly touching as they laughed and murmured things she couldn’t hear.

  Ian saw what she was staring at and leaned to whisper in her ear. “Alex may be a geek, but he’s always been a ladies’ man.”

  “And her?” Grace wondered, disapproval creasing her brow. “It just seems so…juvenile.”

  Ian shrugged. “We need her. If the only reason she sticks around is him then I’m all for it.”

  “She’s going to break his heart,” Grace realized, unsure why the thought bothered her so much.

  “He’ll be fine. He’s a big boy.” Ian turned back to the stove, once again battling the desire to touch her. She had that sad, troubled look in her eyes again, the one that meant she was overthinking things. But he knew there were more important problems to worry about than Alex’s crush on Jackie.

  Grace grabbed four bowls from the cabinet, setting them beside Ian so he could spoon soup into them.

  “I wonder if Ray knows that we’re onto him,” Alex said to Jackie.

  She seemed less amused than he was. “He most certainly knows.”

  A series of long footsteps echoed from upstairs, thudding h
ollowly over the ceiling above them. All eyes shot upward as the footsteps came to a sudden halt near the second-floor balcony.

  Gatsby awoke with a start and growled. Ian looked to Alex for a quick confirmation that they had both heard it and, without a word, both men darted toward the stairs. Grace hovered by the stove, unable to move as uncertainty froze her in place.

  Jackie stayed by the island, her hands twisting together in front of her. “He’s angry.” Her eyes closed as she absorbed the vibes coming from the spirit. Vibes of malicious intent. Fear licked at her insides as she fought the urge to panic.

  Grace looked to her anxiously. “It was probably just old pipes rattling around.”

  Jackie released an unsteady breath. “Something bad is coming…”

  Ian and Alex came back into the kitchen, both looking agitated.

  “We didn’t see anything upstairs. Nothing that could have made the sound,” Ian said, running a hand through his hair. His blood was pumping a mile a minute, making him restless and uneasy.

  “It could’ve been the pipes,” Grace repeated, clinging to the explanation like a life raft.

  Alex leaned over the kitchen island again. “All I know is that I mentioned Ray’s name and then bam! There were footsteps. Some coincidence. Huh, Grace?”

  She frowned at him, clutching her chest to ward off the cold she felt. “Whatever, let’s just—”

  Gatsby let out a panicked bark, then a low whine. A second later the old grandfather clock burst to life, despite having been disabled days earlier. It gonged six times to announce the hour. They all stared at it, wide-eyed, as the bellowing sound resonated throughout the first floor.

  Jackie felt a tickle on the back of her neck, and shifted her eyes from the clock to the entryway. A startled yelp burst from within her throat.

  Alex jolted as though hit by a spark of electricity. “What is it? What do you see?”

  She pointed, though she knew they wouldn’t see what she saw. At least, she didn’t think they would. Her eyes were glassy with shock as she tried to find her voice. “She’s being chased! He’s going after her!”

  She ran out of the kitchen and followed Sally, Gatsby bolting after her. The world seemed to move slowly, as though surrounded by an invisible shield of water. She wasn’t meant to interfere, and the shadowy mass that flickered menacingly in the air behind Sally wanted to remind her of that. It abruptly abandoned its pursuit of Sally and made a dash toward Jackie.

  Gatsby started barking and growling, though nothing could deter the monster. Both Ian and Alex saw it this time now that its intention was to hurt the living. Alex grabbed Jackie and forced her to the floor, while Ian jumped out of the way and let the shadow shoot past him and straight into the basement door.

  Grace burst into the room, alarmed. “Are you all right? What happened?”

  Ian was leaning up against the wall, panting. He shot her a dark look. “We just got a glimpse of Ray.”

  “All three of you?” Grace gaped, watching helplessly as Alex helped Jackie stand up. Gatsby whimpered beside her.

  Alex nodded in her direction. “Yep. Dude, that was intense.”

  Ian patted him on the shoulder as he met eyes with Jackie. “Are you okay?”

  Jackie nodded, shaking as she lifted Gatsby into her arms. “Sally managed to get away. That’s what matters.”

  “Where did she go?” Alex asked.

  “Into the walls…she’s learned how to hide from him.”

  “We should have recorded that.” Ian slapped his hand against the wall angrily, cursing himself for not thinking of it before. “That was one of the clearest shadow figures I have ever seen.”

  “We weren’t expecting it,” Alex reminded him. “It’ll be back. Right?”

  He looked down at Jackie, who nodded solemnly. “He’s not done with us yet.”

  Grace crossed her arms, unsure what to make of the situation. How come she hadn’t seen this shadow? Suspicion reared its ugly head and cloaked her in distrust. “I didn’t see anything.”

  Ian glared at her. “You’re not open to it. Until you are, don’t expect to see anything.”

  “Well, how can I be open to it if I don’t see it?” Grace argued, exasperated. “All I’ve had to go on regarding these ghosts are Jackie’s hallucinations, the voices out of your devices, and random door slams and footsteps. But all of that can be explained away with reason.”

  “Reason?” Ian shook his head, still riding on the anger of having missed the opportunity to capture the shadow on film. “You can use your science as a crutch all you want, Doc. But it won’t protect you from this. These spirits will harm you.”

  Grace rolled her eyes. “What’re they going to do? Give me goosebumps?”

  “Nellie was pushed by him!” Ian reminded her, cobalt eyes aflame. “Or do you not believe that happened, either?”

  Grace pouted, but stood her ground. “Nellie’s an old woman who was probably having a bad case of vertigo.”

  “Goddamnit,” Ian cursed under his breath, turning away from her with his hands in his hair. He knew he had to calm himself before he went after her again. If only she wasn’t so insufferably ignorant.

  Alex eyed Ian anxiously before looking to Grace. “Why don’t we just eat dinner and get some rest?”

  “I’m not hungry.” Grace pushed past them and went upstairs, angry with herself and angry with all of them.

  But, perhaps, most upset that she hadn’t seen tangible proof of what her new life revolved around—proof of the paranormal.

  * * *

  Grace awoke the next morning with the sound of footsteps echoing in her mind. For a split second, she imagined Ian outside her bedroom door, coming to apologize. Or to fight some more, maybe. He was irritated with her, though she didn’t blame him. She would be irritated with her, too.

  But then she remembered the footsteps from the night before and fear raced into her system. She jolted out of sleep, sweat beading on her forehead as her eyes immediately went to the door.

  The house around her was quiet. The footsteps had likely only been a dream.

  A relieved breath rushed out of her lungs and her hand came up to her furiously beating heart. What a fool she was being, succumbing to nightmares. Her entire life that had never happened to her, not even as a child. Was it the house that was doing it? Or was it the depression, the grief?

  She had avoided sleeping pills thus far, but maybe it was time to give them a try. Anything to quell the bad dreams, the voices, the footsteps…

  Outside her window, the fog pressed in and blocked out all sights, all sound. Even the birds seemed to have taken the day off, and the gentle breeze she’d become accustomed to off the harbor had fled. It appeared the world outside wanted to be as haunted as her home, as her soul.

  There would be no escaping it today.

  Her body ached from poor sleep as she sat up and stretched, brushing her bangs back from her face. She got to her feet, slipped into her robe, and walked to the window.

  She might as well have been looking out at nothing. A blank screen of gray.

  The urge for coffee snuck in and pestered her brain, driving her downstairs and into the kitchen to brew a pot. She found the others still sleeping. For a moment she hesitated, eyeing Ian’s sleeping form with both regret and insecurity.

  Would he forgive her? Why did it matter to her so much that he did?

  Emotions stirred within her that only brought misery, so she fought them back and went to work brewing coffee. As it steamed and bubbled out of the machine, she grabbed four mugs and the makings for pancakes. Perhaps she could win them back with food.

  When there was just enough coffee brewed for one cup, she poured it and enjoyed it black. The piercing bitterness of it jolted through her system and warmed her.

  She got out a mixing bowl and measured out the ingredients for the pancakes. She tried to remain as quiet as she could, hoping to wake them with the smell and not the sound.

  Realizing she c
ouldn’t have pancakes without some bacon, she carefully rummaged through the fridge and found some. As she straightened and shut the door, she heard a soft scratching noise coming from the French doors that opened to the back porch.

  Her eyes shot toward the sound, panic darting through her. When she saw a small sparrow fluttering outside, its wings and feet hitting the glass with urgency, she nearly dropped the package of bacon she held.

  Not again. Why wouldn’t the sparrows just leave her alone?

  She tried to ignore it and shakily sipped some more of her coffee, only to hear the bird scratching once again. Now she was angry. It was going to wake the others before she even had a chance to get food cooking, ruining her plan to make peace with them.

  She stepped quietly as she made her way to the door, hoping to scare away the bird. When she was a foot away the bird shot off into the fog.

  Grace started to head back into the kitchen, but froze when the fog parted just enough for a glimpse of the harbor and the lonely dock. On a normal day, this wouldn’t have alarmed her. But today was not a normal day.

  A body slumped lifelessly at the end of the dock, dark and indiscernible. Grace’s heart leapt into her throat as she stared at it, squinting her eyes to debunk it as just a jacket or a blanket or an animal…

  When she noticed Nellie’s gray curly hair, true panic tore through her in one, violent swipe. She gasped and ripped open the door, not caring how loudly it slammed as she ran barefoot onto the grassy slope.

  The second she made it to the end of the dock, she stumbled to her knees, her hands on Nellie as she turned the older woman onto her back. One look at Nellie’s cold, ashen face, and Grace knew she was dead. On instinct, she checked for a pulse, feeling nothing.

  “No.” Tears pooled in Grace’s eyes as her hands fluttered over Nellie’s body helplessly, her well-trained physician’s mind searching for a cause, for a reason, for a solution…

  But there was none to be found. There were no marks on the woman’s body, no cuts, no bruises. Whatever had killed her had likely been internal. Unnoticeable. Likely sudden.

  Grief consumed her as she stared down at her friend’s lifeless body, the loss bringing back all the pain of losing her parents. It encased her in an icy cocoon of shock, and all she could do was crumble to the soft wood of the dock and let it devour her.