October Darlings

by Wendolyn Baird

  “Uhm, no. Not tomorrow, I’ve got to work. Maybe some other time.” Far, far away from now... when the shadows don’t move on their own. “But, hey, I’ve got to call my dad. See you later?”

  “Okay?”

  I herd her towards the door, feeling more like Delia with every passing day. I talk out loud to things I can’t see, I’m constantly covered in sugar or icing, and now I’m sweeping people out of rooms I don’t want them in. Funny, and here I thought I was more like my dad.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow after I get off. Who are we riding with?”

  “We?” Sabrina cocks her head to the side, lingering on the edge of the porch with her jacket already tucked under her arm. “Just ride with Ellis. See you then!”

  Ellis? Why would I ride with my co-worker? I could ask, but that would risk her coming back inside.

  “Okay, bye!” I wave and scurry back inside. “Alright Frank,” I tell the iron scorpion. “Let’s do this.”

  The moment I set my hand on the windowsill upstairs, an energy sweeps up my arm, cementing me to the spot. Down below, the neat red bricks in the courtyard offset the jungle of potted plants Delia has crammed in the space. I lean on the glass, straining to see past the fog my breath produces.

  A shimmery light winds through the bright yellow and green leaves, pulling together into not one, but two vague silhouettes. Their clothes are older, the details fuzzy, but the cut clear from the way they move. A woman and her child. They move slowly, mournfully, pacing the corners with intricate repetition.

  “It’s like they’re stuck.” I murmur to myself, remembering the stories of the spirits that haunt the places they’d died, replaying the pivotal moments of their lives. The children who try to push cars off the train tracks, the mother who searches the banks for her drowned children. They aren’t full ghosts; just the memories of the departed... energies left behind when something particularly awful occurs.

  “What happened to you? Why do you have to keep walking?”

  They go on their way, not hearing or knowing I’m here. Completely and utterly lost in their eternal stroll.

  I KNOW THE EXACT MOMENT Delia comes home, because just as she has the last few days, she stands in the driveway for an extra half hour yelling on her cellphone. The insurance company Dad has is crap, and I don’t think Delia’s realized I can hear her from my bedroom.

  It becomes a sort of morbid game, watching her pace. Like if I watch her long enough, she’ll win the argument and Dad will be okay.

  Eventually, she stomps in and heads straight into the kitchen where the sounds of crashing pans and angry stirring is more than enough to keep me waiting in my room until dinnertime.

  “Aunt Delia?”

  “Hmm?” She mumbles, focused on the paper in her hand and the food in her mouth. The deepening line between her eyes won’t go away, but her mouth is more relaxed, and her eyes clear.

  “I know you said I have to figure things out on my own... but I’ve been doing some reading, and there’s something that just doesn’t make sense to me.”

  “And what’s that, darling?”

  “Most hauntings only have one or two types of spirits. Phantoms, poltergeists, things like that. Why does Nix House have so many?”

  She smiles at me, carefully setting her napkin down beside her fried chicken and glancing around the room. There’s a slight prickle at the back of my neck, so I knew we weren’t alone, but I didn’t realize she looked to the relatives for guidance.

  “Think of it this way: energy draws to other energy. When we die, our bodies decay, of course, and our souls move on. Or, they’re meant to, I mean. But our energy...” she purses her lips. “The strongest part of our impacts on this world can stick. Sometimes it’s just a feeling, other times it’s stronger. Like us,” she waves to the empty room.

  As I follow her movement, trails of violet waver in the light off the chandelier. A nod here, the hint of a smile there. Their faces are becoming more pronounced, and I can nearly match them to their portraits. Not all of my ancestors are on the walls, only the ones that stayed in the house.

  “So, the stronger we are, the more energy that centers here, and the more energy it calls forth.”

  “And that means... what?”

  “It means that the more generations that pass, the stronger the gift grows, and the fuller Nix House becomes. So yes, darling, we have different types of hauntings. Now, did you want some pie? I brought it home from the shop.”

  I shake my head, eyeing the phantom dinner guests and concentrating. There’s still something missing, but what?

  I spend the rest of the evening attempting to edit the photos I’d taken with George but it’s no use. I can’t search the house with Delia in the next room, and I can’t talk to Sabrina about any of this unless I want her going off on another tangent. She may be brilliant, but she’s also impulsive and easily bored. No, I need help from someone who can be serious.

  “Uhm, Aunt Delia?” I poke my head into her room, and the wall looks as clean as ever, no blood stains to speak of. Shivering, I focus on Delia’s slowly moving paintbrush drifting across her paper before she looks up.

  “Uh oh, I sense another awkward question coming on. More about the house, or is this something new? Because I’ve already given you the basics. In order to come into your full powers, you’ve got to do the rest of the work, darling.”

  “No, I mean, yeah. Something else.” The tips of my ears are burning, and I fumble with Frank, still nestled in my pocket.

  “Well?”

  “Are you allowed to give me employees’ phone numbers? I mean for something other than work?”

  “That depends, who’re you trying to call, and why?”

  “Uhm, Ellis.” I cross my fingers. “Sabrina said something about me carpooling to hang out tomorrow night.”

  “Oh, do the kids have something planned? It’ll be good for you to go have some fun! Goodness knows you’ve barely left the house except for work.”

  “Well, I hardly know anyone, and I don’t have a car.”

  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” She sticks her brush in a mug and stands up. “Oh drat! I put it in the wrong mug. There goes my tea. Anyway!”

  I edge into the room as my stomach flips lightly. Apparently, we have a visitor wanting in this room too. The cold brushes past me with a purple glow, and I sigh.

  “Here.” Delia holds her hand out. “I finally got around to pulling my old car out of the garage. It’s not fancy, but it works just fine. Feel free to borrow it whenever, just keep the tank filled.” She drops a set of keys into my palms and turns back to the desk.

  “Uh, wow, thanks.” I should probably muster a more excited response, but honestly, where do I have to drive anyway?

  “I don’t have the number you need here but let me just write some directions for you. I remember where they live, no problem.”

  “Oh, no, I couldn’t just show up at his door!”

  “Sure, you can! In fact, you can run over his cap for tomorrow and say you popped on over for a work errand.” She winks and shoves a very patriotic looking baseball hat into my arms, and I have a new reason to groan.

  “Do we really have to wear these? Red, white, blue, and yellow? I’ll look like a walking crayon box.”

  “It’s either that or a hair net, darling. Mm, and before I forget, I picked up a package for you at the post office. It’s sitting on your desk.” She sticks out the paper with the address on it and stares at me expectantly.

  “It’s after nine already,” I try again.

  “So? It’s a Thursday in practically the middle of nowhere. Where’s the boy going to go?”

  “I guess.”

  “Okay, Frank.” I whisper to my new, little old friend. “Here we go.”

  The walk down the drive sends me into a near panic as I edge just out of view of the house’s floodlights. Downside to living in the country, pitch black at night. And animals and bugs likely to hurt you. And nobo
dy to call for help if a shadow person decides to rise from the earth and start chasing you.

  Delia’s spare car holds a permanent aroma of cupcakes that sat for too long in the front seat, and a smattering of paw prints all over the outside of the windows. I lock the doors as soon as I slide in, and it’s not until I’m pulling onto what I hope is the right street, that I let myself relax.

  No dead voices in my ears, no unnatural air currents, nothing but the normal quiet of the night and the occasional test fireworks popping above the trees.

  Cap firmly in hand, scorpion in my pocket, and my neck feeling particularly bare without my camera hanging from it, I trek past a fallen bicycle and several weathered gnomes. The large farmhouse has classic red curtains, a faux windmill out front, and a basketball hoop secured above the garage. The overall impression is homey and so gratefully normal, that I release a sigh just heading up the front steps.

  “Hi!” I say as soon as a tall, balding man opens the door. “Is Ellis home? I work with him, my name is—”

  “Addie? What are you doing here?” Behind the man, gold eyes latch onto mine, but they aren’t the pair I’m expecting. No wonder they looked so familiar.

  “Owen?”

  Owen’s father steps into the house, allowing me space to pass. “Maybe you better finish this conversation inside. We’re letting the mosquitos take over the living room as it is.”

  The furniture is worn and comfortable, as mismatched as any the stuff we have at Nix House, but several decades newer. Compared to Sabrina’s sleek home, I know which one I prefer. Or, which one I would prefer, if Owen wasn’t staring down at me like I was a bug.

  “I was looking for Ellis. My aunt wanted me to give him this hat.”

  “You drove all the way over here, in the dark, to bring him a hat?” Owen smirks at me, his brown hair damp from either a shower or sweat, and a video game controller in his hand.

  “Can it, kid,” his father intervenes. “He’s right this way, come on I’ll show you to his room. Ellis! You got company!”

  His hair is lighter and longer than his brother’s, his eyes kinder, and lounging on a tattered bean bag with a guitar in his hands, Ellis is even more breathtaking than when I first saw him. It’s easy to forget how gorgeous he is at work, when we’re both covered in flour and he only glances my way to make sure I don’t need help with a customer. Here, I only see him.

  “Hey, Addie.”

  “Hey.”

  “You didn’t get sent over to fire me, did you?” He sets down his instrument, a grin creeping across his face. His bracelets slide as he moves, and I linger in the doorway, the hat dangling from my fingertips.

  “No, no way. Delia wouldn’t fire you, you’re great.” The tips of my ears burn beneath the hair falling on my cheeks, and glance behind me. Dear god, please tell me Owen didn’t hear that.

  “Okay. So why are you here?”

  I draw a deep breath, inching into the room and twisting the hat in my hands. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

  “With the way this county is? I’d be a fool not to.”

  “Good, because I need your help.”

  Chapter Nine

  I LAY IT ALL OUT; WHY I moved away, why I moved back, the ghosts, and even the scorpions and the shadow stalker. But the part I can’t explain properly is the sense that I’m missing something.

  “I haven’t found a single passageway, but I know they’re there! And there’s this piece of me that needs to know what’s inside. Like I’ve been there before.”

  “Maybe you have. Have you asked your aunt about the photo albums? Or what happened in the hallway? That all seems connected to lost memories.”

  Cross-legged on the floor in front of him, I accept a handful of chips and shake my head. “She won’t tell me anything about the hallway, and I’m pretty sure she hid the photo albums. I haven’t seen them since it happened. She just apologized for pushing me and said I had to adjust.”

  “She wants you to adjust to creepy dead roommates and the fact that something is stalking you?”

  “No, no,” I mumble around my food. “She’s convinced it isn’t coming back. Honestly, she’s so sure of herself and that I’ll figure this out on my own, I’m pretty positive she won’t take me seriously if I tell her I think she’s wrong.”

  “But you’re telling me. Where exactly do I fit into all this? It’s not like I’ve got the same powers y’all do.”

  Glancing at the rug, I hesitate. Not only is it difficult to admit, but this is Ellis. It would be so much easier to say out loud if I didn’t feel butterflies every time he walks into a room. “I’m still too chicken to do this alone.”

  “Of course, you are.”

  “Hey!” I shove at his foot and grimace up at him.

  “What? That’s not a bad thing! You’d have to be really reckless to not be scared— I’m saying I don’t blame you.”

  “Okay, so, now that’s established.” I roll my eyes. “Help me.”

  Ellis sets down the bag of chips and leans forward. A little line appears between his eyebrows as he studies me, and the longer the moment stretches on, the faster my heart beats. He’s going to say no.

  “I want to. This is kind of incredible and completely up my alley... but again, I can’t see ghosts. How can I possibly help?”

  “Moral support and research. Also, are you any good with tools? We may have to pick some locks in the house.”

  “Ah, Addie.” He buries his face in his hands, his voice breathless and conflicted. “Do you absolutely swear nothing we do is going to get me fired? Maybe George would be better at this.”

  “No! No way! He’s fun, but he’s reckless. Like you said, reckless isn’t safe right now. I need someone I can rely on.”

  Someone who won’t look at me like I’m some kind of monster. My stomach turns as Nick’s face flashes through my mind. He hid it well after Delia cleaned everything up... but if I hadn’t been attacked? He wouldn’t see me as a friend needing protection. If he saw the scorpions move on their own or knew that my dead great aunt hangs our clothes outside on the line or that my great, great grandfather does the dishes every night... he wouldn’t look at me the same. I know he wouldn’t.

  “I’ve worked for your aunt for two years now, and I already knew about Nix House before you came over. I think if your aunt is hiding something from you, there’s a reason. But I think you also have the right to find out what. As long as I won’t lose my job over this, I’m in.”

  “So, let me get this straight; you’re worried about your job, but not the ghosts?”

  “No, I didn’t say that!” He brushes his hair back with one hand, another sheepish smile lighting up the room. “I’m scared to death over the ghosts, but I’m pretty confident everything will work out okay.”

  “Because I’m a Nix?”

  “No. Because you have this way about you, I’ve seen it in how you handle stuff at work. And hearing everything you’ve been going through, alone? Whatever life throws at you Addie, you’ve got it. You’re strong.”

  A spark of warmth is nothing compared to the roaring fire in my chest. For the first time in a long time, I don’t just feel okay, I feel proud of myself. And with a freaky new superpower I’m still not even sure I want, that’s a lot to process.

  “Thanks.” My eyes and my cheeks are burning now, and I have to duck my head to hide them. “Oh, I also came over to give you this stupid hat. Sorry, I kind of bent it.”

  “That’s fine. I only have to wear it tomorrow, right?”

  “Right, yeah.”

  “Hey!” Owen barges into the room with a look of annoyance on his face. “It’s after ten. Dad said that curfew’s in half an hour and she has to go.”

  “Okay.” Ellis climbs to his feet and helps me up. “Do you know how to find your way back?”

  “Uhm, I have directions in the car. I’m pretty sure I can just reverse them and be fine."

  “I’m not sure about that. It’s pretty dark out there and the hi
lls can be dangerous if you’re not used to driving them. I can drop you off in my car and then take yours over in the morning before work, if that’s okay with you?”

  “Oh, I couldn’t have you do that!”

  “Why not?” Owen challenges me, his arms folded loosely across his chest as he idles in the doorway. “You’re already taking up everyone else’s time.”

  “Excuse me?” I jerk my head back and flinch at his sudden hostility.

  “You heard me. Ever since you got here, Sabrina won’t leave your side if you’re off work and Miranda hardly ever sees her anymore. And what about George? He missed practice last week because of you.”

  “Oh yeah, sure, it had nothing to do with the fact that George skips out on pretty much everything, every single day.” Ellis retorts before I can get a word in edgewise. “Or the fact that Miranda’s been spending most of her time mooning over you? You know Sabrina can’t stand that crap.”

  “Leave Miranda out of it.”

  “You’re the one who brought her up.”

  The two brother’s postures mirror each other as Owen’s eyebrows twitch in agitation, but Ellis holds his expression with neat sarcastic humor I didn’t think he was capable of. Whatever grudge Owen has, it started long before me.

  “I’m just going to... go.” I sidle around Owen, slinking down the hallway to escape the awkward tension poisoning the room.

  “Your girlfriend’s leaving without you.”

  “Shove off, man.” Ellis brushes past his brother and catches me by the elbow. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  I let him lead the way to his truck rather than insist on Delia’s car. Partly because I hated the drive over enough as it is, but also because I think the drive will do him good.

  “Sorry about that,” he apologizes as the engine rumbles to a start. “Owen can be rather judgmental. He hates all my friends as a general rule. It has nothing to do with you.”