by Eden Maguire
“She doesn’t know me,” I retorted. “Anyhow, I’d say that worked both ways.”
“So I’m telling you to keep any personal feelings you may have out of this,” Hunter insisted. “Your job is to sideline Phoenix, Arizona, and Summer for now, and put all your focus on Jonas.”
This disappointed me, but I was willing to play Hunter’s game if it meant I got to spend more time with Phoenix. Of course I was. “What do you want me to find out?” I asked, the words tumbling out I was so eager. I wasn’t taking time to evaluate, to understand how Hunter must have set this whole thing up from day one, letting me “see” Phoenix in all the familiar places, fixing it for me to stumble across the old house and barn, testing me out with the beating wings and the skull faces to see if I was tough enough. All I knew at that moment was that I was ready to die in order to help Phoenix and the others.
“I want you to make contact with Zoey,” Hunter ordered. “Jonas has tried to get close and work out exactly what happened, but our powers weaken the farther away we are from our base here, plus there’s always something in his way. It’s up to you now.”
“I can do that,” I said. “And I can go online and read up on the court case. There’ll be a heap of stuff there about what happened on the day of the crash.”
“Maybe.” Hunter tilted his head to scratch the stubble on the cleft of his chin. “But you won’t find any eyewitness accounts, only measurements the cops made of the skid marks, photographs by the forensic team, and such.”
“There were no witnesses, no one around,” Jonas joined in for the first time. “What they say I did—speeding on the highway out of Centennial—it doesn’t make any sense. I’d ridden that road a thousand times.”
“So what happened to the bike?” I asked. “After the crash, what did they do with it?”
“The cops impounded it,” Hunter said. “They took the evidence, worked out a speed before the accident, checked the tires, brakes, et cetera. It was all presented as evidence in court.”
“No way was I doing the speed they said,” Jonas insisted. “I never did crazy stuff when Zoey was riding with me.”
“So we need her to remember,” I realized. “If Zoey is the only one who can back you up on this, that’s what we need to happen.”
“Exactly right,” Hunter said in that flat, cold tone. “How’s your friendship with Zoey, Darina? Is it better than your relationship with Arizona?”
“Zoey and I go way back,” I said, without telling Hunter the complications. If he was the all-powerful overlord he would see inside my head and know about the Matt Fortune episode anyway. “So after I talk to her and get her to remember the details, how do I get the message back here to you?”
Hunter stared at me without blinking. “Jonas will be there when you need him,” he promised.
“What about Phoenix?” I asked quickly. If I was selling my soul and swearing silence to Hunter, I wanted at least to snatch some time with Phoenix for myself.
Hunter stared at me so hard I had to lower my gaze.
“Phoenix, walk Darina up to the water tower,” he said at last. “Say good-bye there and watch her to her car.”
I breathed in sharply. “Thanks,” I told him.
But he flung my gratitude back in my face. “Phoenix has a vested interest in keeping you safe,” he explained. “He knows that if you get Jonas the answers he needs, you’ll work your way down through Arizona and Summer until you come to him.”
“That’s not true. Phoenix isn’t taking care of me for selfish reasons. He loves me.” I almost yelled at Hunter, who was brushing past me and climbing the steps to the hayloft.
The overlord glanced over his shoulder, down into the bright, dancing dust-filled space. “I said to forget personal feelings.”
“That’s impossible. He loves me.” I knew it and I wanted Hunter to admit it too. Phoenix held on to my hand, tried to pull me back. Jonas stood pale and sorrowful, alone in the shadows.
“Phoenix did love you—probably—whatever that means,” Hunter acknowledged, both hands on the stair rails, ready to leap up the steps two at a time. “But now it’s different. Love needs a heart. It needs blood coursing through the veins.”
“So?” My voice broke. I turned in fear to Phoenix.
“No blood, no heart,” Hunter said cruelly, disappearing from view. “If you don’t believe me, listen to his chest.”
I shivered as Phoenix walked me up the hill. It was true, and that was why the Beautiful Dead were so pale, why Phoenix’s skin was cold to the touch. For the first time I fully realized what it really meant to come back from beyond the grave.
“Who do I believe?” I asked Phoenix, under the shade of the fluttering aspens, in the shadow of the water tower. “You or Hunter?”
He breathed in deeply, his head half turned from me. “Hunter’s into power,” he reminded me bitterly. “Being an overlord is how he gets his kicks.The guy’s been dead a long time, remember.”
“So if he wanted to shock me he did a good job,” I admitted. Phoenix had let me put my ear to his chest and listen, like a condemned man waiting for the switch to be thrown. Then he’d silently taken me by the hand and walked me up the hill. Now he stood some distance away, gazing at the jagged mountains on the horizon.
“I come here a lot,” he told me. “You see that rock? It’s called Angel Rock because…”
“…It looks like a sideways angel,” I said. I could make out the shape of the head and wings, and a full skirt, like a paper angel on a Christmas tree.
“And that smooth gray rock with the grooves running vertically? That’s Twelve O’clock Rock.”
“Phoenix,” I whispered, slipping my hand into his. “You can stop talking.”
He frowned and stared into the distance.
“It’s OK,” I said. “I don’t care about what Hunter just told me.”
We stood for a long time, holding hands. As long as he was there, I could survive.
“Really, there’s no problem.” My voice carried up into the shimmering silver-green leaves above our heads. His fingertips were cool. I looked up at him and his eyes contained the vast spaces of the mountains and rivers stretching out before us. “You love me. I know you do.”
Forget the “sweet” in the lamest of clichés: “parting is such sweet sorrow.” Saying good-bye sucks—end of story.
I left Phoenix on the ridge and walked to my car in a daze. I turned to look. He was standing there, totally still, watching me go. The idea of raising my hand to wave crossed my mind but I didn’t follow it through.
With my head foggy and confused, I got into the hot car and started the engine. I wound down all the windows, and without looking back I drove away.
So now my priority was to call on Zoey. I glanced at my watch—it was already 6:30 p.m., but if I drove fast I could make it to her house inside an hour. Would that be too late for an unexpected visit? I pressed the gas pedal and bumped crazily down the dirt track, swinging around a bend then jamming on the brakes when I met another car head on.
The back end of my car swerved; there was the sound of grating metal and I ended up in the gutter.
The next thing I knew, Logan was reaching in through my open window and grabbing me by the shoulder.
“Darina, are you OK?” His face registered total shock.
“I’m good,” I told him, pushing at the door and forcing him to stand back. I got out of the car and saw the two front wheels stuck deep in the gutter.The car was tilting at an angle of forty-five degrees. “What happened? What are you doing here, Logan?”
“I drove out to Foxton with a bunch of guys—Christian, Lucas, Matt.”
“Where are they?” I expected to see a convoy of cars coming up the deserted track.
“Back at the old store. Christian’s dad bought the place to fix up. He said we could stay the weekend and do some fishing.”
“Lucky you,” I muttered, getting ready for Logan’s counteroffensive.
“More t
o the point, Darina, what brings you way out here?”
“I was driving around.” I blamed my face for blushing, my voice for stammering just when I wanted to sound convincing.
“Why here?” Logan scratched his head and studied my car. “You know you bent your front fender?”
“It’s a crappy old car anyway.”
“You’re blocking the road. I’ll need to get Christian’s Jeep to pull you out.”
Wanting to avoid any more drama, I asked him if he could tow it himself.
“You know the size of my engine? No way. So you didn’t answer my question. What brings you halfway up a mountain in your beat-up old car? You don’t even have four-wheel drive.”
“I needed time to think. I do that best when I’m driving.”
Mister Sensible shook his head. “Does Laura know?”
“Oh, please,” I groaned. “Like I’m five years old and ask my mother’s permission to breathe.”
“You’re crazy, you know that.” Logan’s face darkened at my sarcasm. “What if something really bad had happened?”
“Isn’t this bad enough for you?” For the first time I realized that I’d bruised my right forearm when the steering wheel had spun out of control. I rolled back my sleeve to show Logan.
“You need to see a doctor,” he murmured. “Forget the car. Jump into mine and I’ll drive you down to Ellerton.”
“No doctors,” I said abruptly. “Nothing’s broken. I can move my fingers, see?”
“Forget the car anyway. You’re probably in a state of shock. I’ll take you to the old store.”
Reluctantly I followed orders. “Honestly, Logan.” I sighed as I sat beside him in his car.The passenger seat smelled musty and familiar—like fun times, just out of reach. My hands were shaking. “Why did you have to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were following me.”
He turned his head and gave me a long look. “If I was it would only be to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid.”
“Meaning?”
“All this stuff with Phoenix has got to you. This last week you’ve been acting crazy, and that’s OK, I don’t blame you. But you need someone to look out for you, Darina. Believe me.”
“And that person would be you?” I asked quietly.
We’d driven past the fishermen’s shacks overlooking the creek and were pulling up at the one and only junction in Foxton. I noticed that the front door to the old store was open and a couple of guys were sitting in the side porch.
“I’d like it to be,” Logan said, almost under his breath. Then he broke the mood and grinned. “You’re crazier than a gut-shot possum. That’s what my old man would say.”
As Logan pulled up outside the store, a third figure joined the two others on the porch. I quickly identified the short, stocky one who’d just appeared as Christian Oldman.The curly-haired guy sitting back to front on a rickety wooden chair was Lucas Hart and the one in the leather jacket was unmistakably Matt Fortune.
“Hey, guys, look who I found!” Logan announced, leaping out of his Honda and opening the passenger door for me to step out.
Loud, clashing music from a sound system inside the house almost drowned him out until Christian went back in to turn it down.
“Hey, Darina,” Lucas said. He stayed where he was, tilting the chair forward and tapping his feet.
I got no sign of recognition from Matt, but then again I didn’t expect any.
“Darina wrecked her car on the dirt road,” Logan informed them.
“I didn’t wreck it,” I protested, defying the Neanderthals on the porch to say one bad word about female drivers. “I just rearranged the front fender, that’s all.”
“You want to sit?” Lucas stood up and offered me the chair. “You look like you got shaken up back there.”
“No, I’m cool, thanks.” And ready to get out of there as soon as someone put my car back on the road. There was way too much testosterone zinging around for my liking, visible in the bare arms and muscles and the significant sideways glances. Plus there was Matt Fortune.
“Christian, we need your Jeep to pull Darina’s car out of the ditch,” Logan said.
“I’m on it.” The school boxing champion didn’t hesitate, and Matt followed him to the dusty Jeep without a word. Within ten seconds they were heading up the dirt road.
“Who wants Gatorade?” Lucas asked, getting up and going inside without waiting for an answer. He brushed against two fishing rods propped against the wall and sent them skidding along the porch floor. Swearing harshly, he stepped over them and barged on.
“Lucas is James Bond without the women and minus the style,” Logan said with a grin. “A man of action, yeah, but more Incredible Hulk.”
“His style works for me,” I confessed. I expected any minute to hear cups crashing and more cussing. Meanwhile, Logan was getting back to the subject I most wanted to avoid.
“Darina, I don’t like you driving out here alone,” he told me. “It’s not safe.”
“Yeah, and you sound like my dad.” Jeez! I blushed again. Logan had been the one who was there for me when Real Dad took off for good. He and I were only twelve at the time, but I swear he was a better friend than I deserved. Moody, thin-skinned Darina could always count on levelheaded, reliable Logan. We spent that whole summer avoiding our parents by cycling out to Deer Creek and swimming in Hartmann Lake.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “That came out wrong.”
He shrugged. “Anyway, have you heard the stories going around town?”
“What stories?”
“About the ridge above Foxton. Some guys swear there’s crazy stuff going on up there. They hear voices, see figures moving around in the shadows.”
“Yeah, guys who are out of their heads on booze,” I argued, feeling the hair on the nape of my neck prickle. “You drink a few cans of beer and you start seeing stuff.”
“What if it’s more than that?” Logan went on. “They’re talking about a ghost house hidden at the back of the ridge—some place no one sees, way off the track.”
“So was that what you were looking for?” Trying to switch the focus, I took my chance to put pressure on Logan. “What are you suddenly, some kind of ghost buster?”
“Maybe,” he said calmly. “Some people believe in ghosts. Lucas, for a start.”
“My ears are burning. Who’s bad-mouthing me behind my back?” Lucas came out carrying three greenish-yellow bottles of Gatorade. My stomach turned. I should have been thirsty, but I wasn’t.
“You believe the stuff about ghosts up on the ridge, don’t you?” Logan said.
“Yeah, I do. Actually, I saw a ghost once, when I was a little kid. I woke up in the middle of the night and there was one in my room.”
“No way,” I countered. “I bet it was your big sister wearing a white sheet and whoo-whooing!” Please don’t believe the rumors! I silently pleaded. And I did what I could to make tough guy Lucas feel small.
“Anyway, what if I was out ghost busting, as you call it?” Logan demanded. “What’s it to you?”
“Nothing,” I said. This conversation wasn’t going the way I wanted. “I’m just shocked you guys fell for the BS, that’s all.”
“We’re not the only ones,” Lucas pointed out. “It’s the talk of the town right now. The older guys are planning to get together and check it out.”
They already did. The words were on the tip of my tongue but I managed to stop them spilling out.
“Including Bob Jonson for one,” Logan added.
My close shave with the truth made me nervous. What if I’d let the words slip out and let Logan and Lucas see that I knew more than I was saying? Then my sworn secret would really have been on the line. Already. Not good. I even thought I heard those zombie wings beating out a warning above my head.
“Darina, are you OK?” Logan asked. “You want to go inside and lie down?”
“No, I want to head home.” I knew I was
still trembling and tried to hide it. “Thanks, Logan, but I’ll wait here on the porch.”
Another sideways glance must have passed between Logan and Lucas, because Lucas set the drinks on the porch railing, got up suddenly, and said he’d walk up the track to check on Christian and Matt. Which meant I was in for an intense one-on-one talk with Logan, and I was still fighting off the sound of the wings.
“I want to help,” he began.
“You have already. Honestly, Logan, I know you’re there for me.”
“So why are you fighting me off?” He came close, boxing me in a corner, making me uneasy. “Come on, Darina, talk to me.”
“I have nothing to say except inside I’m hurting. Do you understand?”
The wings faded. I was doing my job.
Logan nodded. “Totally. And I want to help. It’s OK; I know I’m repeating myself. I’m just trying to get through to you.”
He was pinning me against the porch rail so that I could hardly breathe. I had to work out a way of making him back off before he leaned forward and kissed me on the lips.
“I hear you, Logan,” I whispered, putting my hand on his shoulder and finding that he was shaking almost as much as me. “I’m truly grateful.” And I pecked him on the cheek and ducked under his arm, out of that dangerous corner.
He sighed and leaned back against the wall, eyes closed until he heard the sound of a car rattling down the track.
“Here comes Christian,” I muttered, stepping down from the porch.
The three guys showed up towing my battered car.The front fender scraped the ground as it bumped along.
“You need to get this fixed,” Lucas called from behind the wheel.
I nodded. “Will it get me into town the way it is?”
“Wait.” Christian got out of his Jeep and tested the fender. “This needs to come off,” he decided, leaning all his weight on it and wrenching until it came away from the body of the car. “Throw this in the trunk,” he told Lucas.
Meanwhile, Matt jumped down from the Jeep and strode silently into the store.
