Beautiful Dead 3: Summer

by Eden Maguire

  Logan comes first. I battled my way out of the new confusion by focusing on tomorrow’s event. If I get through the funeral then I’ll drive out to Foxton and pick up the pieces, talk to Summer and start over.

  I’d gone back to sorting through my necklace box when Phoenix appeared. For the first time ever we didn’t fall into each other’s arms.

  He stood by the door, waiting for me to speak. The whole of his being – his aura – gave off a feeling of fear and doubt.

  I watched him closely as the light faded. He was the same – tall, graceful, very beautiful with his pale, almost translucent skin – but totally different. ‘You heard the news about Fichtner?’ I asked coolly.

  Phoenix nodded. He didn’t move from his place at the far side of the room. ‘Hunter sent me.’

  ‘Of course he did. Now go ahead, tell me from him how I got it all wrong, wasted everyone’s time, put Summer’s eternal future in danger …’

  ‘Darina, don’t.’

  ‘Don’t what?’

  ‘Don’t do this.’

  ‘Don’t do what, Phoenix? What exactly am I doing that I’m not supposed to be doing?’

  ‘You’re locking me out. It’s tearing me apart.’

  Flipping the lid of my jewellery box shut, I went across to the window. ‘I’m locking you out! How come you held back the truth during the storm and lied to me about Logan? Were you scared to say what really happened because you knew how I’d react?’

  ‘I didn’t lie,’ he said quietly, as if he didn’t expect me to believe him.

  ‘Whatever. Logan died in the hospital, did you know? Yeah, sure you did.’

  He gazed at me without answering, his eyes full of hurt.

  ‘Can’t you even say sorry?’ I said, sobbing out the words. I never in a million years thought that it would be like this – that I would be fighting with Phoenix, that all the love and trust between us would be blown away like dust.

  ‘Hunter sends a message,’ he said, his voice emotionless. ‘Now that Fichtner isn’t a suspect, he wants you to go to my house.’

  ‘Tell him I’m busy,’ I replied, turning my back. ‘I have a funeral to go to.’

  ‘Hunter didn’t say don’t go to the funeral,’ Phoenix reminded me. ‘All he’s saying is, visit my brother before it’s too late.’

  ‘And suddenly Brandon is going to take me into his confidence, tell me everything he knows about the dirty drugs deals that his buddy Oscar Thorne is mixed up in? He’s going to ’fess up to being involved in vendettas and guns and all the insane, crazy stuff guys do when they’re off their heads on illegal substances – yeah sure, Brandon is totally ready to do that.’

  ‘Darina, listen to me—’

  ‘You don’t even care about Logan, do you?’ There was an elephant in the room and I couldn’t ignore it. ‘I was at the hospital with him, he was hooked up to tubes, in a coma—’

  ‘I do care.’

  ‘No, you admitted you were jealous of Logan and that’s the truth. He didn’t fit your picture of me being devoted to you for ever and ever. The way you saw it, there was always a chance that he would step into your shoes.’

  ‘Yes, it’s true,’ Phoenix admitted softly, eyes downcast, still standing uncertainly in the spot where he’d materialized. ‘I told you – it hurts to let you live your life, even though I know you have to move forward when this is over.’

  The words crashed down on me like an avalanche: ‘when this is over’. When we found all the answers for Jonas, Arizona, Summer and finally Phoenix, when the Beautiful Dead were free to leave. I was crushed by the weight of it, the knowledge that one day it would surely end.

  ‘I’m guilty,’ Phoenix told me, coming to me at last. ‘I want to be bigger than I am, but I can’t do it.’

  I looked up into his hurting eyes. ‘But I didn’t love Logan that way, I loved him in a different way … I don’t want to let him down by saying this stuff. I’m all mixed up.’

  ‘It’s too raw. Wait until after the funeral, then we can talk.’

  I nodded. He was close to me, I was breathing him in but still resisting. The embers of my anger still glowed.

  ‘About the visit to my house,’ Phoenix mumbled. ‘It’s not Brandon that Hunter wants you to talk with, it’s Zak.’

  ‘Logan was like a lot of kids we know. He didn’t follow any recognized faith, he just had a clear, natural sense of the difference between right and wrong.’

  Byron Lavelle had chosen our music teacher, Katie Jones, to speak at the open-air funeral service. She was someone Logan liked, who we all looked up to. Now she stood on a hillside under a stand of tall redwoods, her hands folded in front of her, speaking to hundreds of people who had come to mourn Logan’s passing.

  ‘We all have our special memories,’ Miss Jones continued. ‘People have come forward with stories of Logan out at Hartmann Lake, casting a line far out into the clear water, of Logan chilling with the guys in a cabin out at Foxton. They say he never pushed himself to the front of the line, but would always listen and offer to help, even before he was asked.’

  The casket lay two metres from where Hannah, Jordan and I stood. It was an eco-casket, this was an eco-burial, straight into non-consecrated ground – surprising choices by Logan’s dad. Among the mourners were Logan’s teachers, fellow students and friends like me who had known him since kindergarten.

  ‘I have talked with scores of people,’ Miss Jones said, ‘and not a single one has had a bad word to say about Logan Lavelle.’

  It came time for us to step forward to sing ‘Time to Go’. Jordan, Hannah and I began with faint voices and fingers that fumbled the chords. But we owed it to Logan to do this, to make it the best song ever, so we looked towards the clear blue sky, gathered strength and sang from the bottom of our hearts to make him proud.

  When we finished, I reached out to skim my fingers across the smooth white lid of the casket, then stepped to one side.

  ‘Your song was beautiful.’ Heather Madison came up to me at the close of the service. People were turning to wander slowly down the hillside, away from the peace of the place that would be for ever Logan’s.

  I smiled at her, glad that she’d made it here today. ‘Summer wrote it.’

  ‘I knew it was hers, the moment I heard the first notes.’

  ‘It must have been the last one she wrote. I found her handwritten copy.’

  Slipping Summer’s paper from my pocket, I offered it to Heather. ‘Please take it,’ I said. ‘It belongs with you.’

  Jon Madison came alongside and gently took the paper from me. ‘Thank you, Darina,’ he told me. Then, putting his arm around his wife, he walked her down the hill.

  I stayed until almost everyone had gone. I liked the way the pine trees stood tall and straight like soldiers guarding the place. I liked the stillness.

  ‘Walk with me,’ Logan’s dad said at last.

  Our feet crunched over the pink sandy ground, the granite rocks sparkled in the sun. Looking back, I saw the tops of the redwoods sway slightly in the breeze.

  I hadn’t expected the Rohrs to be there, and I only spotted them – Sharon, Brandon and Zak – when Byron Lavelle and I reached the National Forest car park at the bottom of the hill.

  Sharon was the one who came forward to shake Byron’s hand, telling him how sorry she was, then letting the unspoken bond between two parents who had each lost a son develop in silence.

  Brandon hung back, obviously not eager to engage and probably only there because his mother had pressured him. Zak likewise. I made the usual comparison between Brandon and Phoenix – they had the same deep-set grey eyes, both were tall, but after that Brandon came off way worse. He was thicker set, more heavily muscled and less graceful, plus the biker leathers always gave him an aggressive edge. I went off on a tangent, picturing Phoenix in my mind’s eye, almost hearing his voice in the rustle of the wind in the pines.

  I swear I wouldn’t have stepped forward to talk with Zak like Phoenix had told m
e except that Brandon unknowingly set it up for me. As Sharon accepted a ride home with Byron and walked away with him, Brandon turned to Zak and said, ‘Kid, how about taking a ride in Darina’s convertible?’

  Zak shook his head. ‘I’ll ride the Harley with you.’

  ‘Not an option. I have to be somewhere. Darina’s heading your way, isn’t that right, Darina?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘So go,’ Brandon ordered, and he too walked quickly away.

  ‘What’s the problem – you think I’ll bite?’ I asked Zak.

  He was trailing behind me, scuffing his shoes in the dirt.

  ‘Get in,’ I told him. I’d started to wonder why the hell Hunter wanted me to talk with the monosyllabic, moody kid. ‘And by the way, did I ever hear a thank you for talking to Jardine and getting you off the fire-setting rap?’

  Zak’s eyelids flickered shut. ‘I can take care of myself,’ he grunted.

  ‘Sure you can. That’s why you hang out with Jacob and Taylor, the big bad guys, because nothing scares you, huh?’ I started the engine and glanced sideways at my passenger. ‘You want to know something?’

  ‘No, but I guess I’m going to hear it anyway.’

  I reversed out on to the track then pointed the car in the direction of town. ‘I had a talk with Brandon the other day. He’s freaked out that you’re using him as a role model.’

  As we joined the highway, Zak struck a pose, winding down the window and leaning his elbow on the car door. The wind pushed his hair back from his face making him look somehow softer-featured and younger.

  ‘Why would that concern Brandon?’ I persisted. ‘What does Big Bro do that he doesn’t want you to copy?’

  ‘Brandon’s a jerk,’ Zak said suddenly and with genuine anger. ‘He thinks he’s a big player. Like, yeah!’

  ‘You two had a fight?’ I asked. I realized I could mine this seam and with luck I’d strike gold.

  Zak shrugged. ‘He pushes me around – do this, don’t do that.’

  ‘And he’s not even your dad. I get it.’

  ‘He’s nothing. A big fat zero.’

  ‘That’s not what I hear. I hear he’s well connected.’

  ‘We’re talking Brandon here, right?’

  ‘He got me this car,’ I pointed out. ‘It’s a high-end machine.’

  ‘Yeah, from his dope-dealing buddy,’ Zak muttered. ‘I just found out – Will Stone owed Brandon big time, that’s why he gave him the car.’

  Whoa – I was driving a vehicle belonging to a drugs dealer! Suddenly it didn’t seem so shiny red and desirable, but I registered the name, Will Stone, and stored it.

  Now that he’d started, Zak was on a roll. It seemed to me there was a mountain of resentment for the kid to offload. ‘Then what,’ he went on, ‘the next time Stone asks Brandon a favour …?’

  ‘When did he last ask him?’ I cut in.

  ‘Last year. It was some crap about delivering a package to a guy called Oscar. Brandon tells Stone no, and that’s how come—’

  ‘Will Stone had to deliver the package himself?’

  Zak nodded. ‘Which is why Oscar Thorne was sitting in Starbucks waiting for Stone the day—’

  ‘That Summer Madison was shot.’ I ended his sentence for him, turned off the highway and delivered Zak right to his door.

  This was big. Zak’s information put two pieces of lowlife in the right place at the right time, and it was down to me to carry the facts back to Foxton.

  Any other time except the day of Logan’s funeral I would have hit the highway and been out there before sunset.

  Tonight was way different. Instead of parking my car and walking down from the ridge and across the yard to hear the barn door banging in the wind, I sat in my room listening to Summer’s demo disc. Tomorrow, after rehearsal, I told myself. It’ll be soon enough.

  And no one appeared in a halo of silver light to tell me otherwise.

  ‘About yesterday,’ Miss Jones announced next day before the last-but-one rehearsal began. ‘I was so proud.’

  There was silence in the theatre. Parker halted his sound check. Even Ezra dumped the coils of cable he was carrying and slouched across to listen.

  ‘It was the hardest thing,’ Miss Jones said. ‘Especially for you three girls – Hannah, Darina and Jordan. You came through for Logan.’

  It was Lucas who led the applause. He started slowly and soon others joined in, turning towards us with serious expressions, letting us know how they agreed with our music teacher until she stepped in and reminded everyone it was time to rehearse.

  ‘Jeez,’ Hannah mumbled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

  I dabbed more carefully around the edges of my mascara. ‘Give me your laptop,’ I sniffed. ‘Let me take a look at angelvoice, see who posted comments.’

  So I hid away in a corner, expecting to find excited Summer fans looking ahead to the concert. Sure enough – Can’t wait till Saturday, Zoe Zee wrote. Skygirl followed up with: It’s gonna be awesome.

  JakB came in with his usual sick stuff. You heard the news? Another kid from Ellerton High got buried. Who cares? The big thing is – Summer lives!

  I jumped up from my seat when I read that and ran over to Ezra to make him read it too. ‘This is the guy you gave the backstage pass to!’ I told him. ‘This is one sick psycho.’

  ‘Back off, Darina,’ was Ezra’s response, tipping his shades higher up the bridge of his nose – a kind of repetitive geeky gesture he had. ‘The guy can express an opinion, can’t he?’

  ‘No, he can’t!’ I followed him backstage. ‘You’re going to go out of here and find him, take away his pass, end of story.’

  Ezra shook his head. ‘What’s the big deal?’

  ‘The deal is, JakB seriously needs help. Someone has to tell him he can’t act this way.’

  Ezra escaped from the corner I’d backed him into. ‘This is a free country,’ he said, not looking where he was going and barging into Parker.

  ‘Read this!’ I said, thrusting the laptop under Parker’s nose. ‘The stuff about Logan dying and nobody caring. Tell Ezra it’s sick.’

  ‘No comment,’ Parker muttered, making space for Ezra to squeeze past. But then he got how mad I was and tried to calm me down. ‘Don’t expect sympathy from Ezra,’ he told me. ‘He and Logan weren’t best buddies, remember.’

  ‘Oh yeah, the fight outside the theatre. What was that about exactly?’

  ‘I have no clue. I only know it didn’t end there. It blew up again in the cabin that night …’

  ‘Ezra and Logan had another fight?’

  ‘No fists were used,’ Parker corrected me in a mocking, school-teacher voice. ‘They yelled at one another then Ezra made his exit.’

  ‘Out into the storm?’ I asked.

  ‘We’re talking seventy-mile-per-hour winds,’ he agreed. ‘But Ezra totally lost it. He swore Logan was a jerk, then he was out of there.’

  ‘Nice,’ I muttered. ‘So who’s going to deal with crazy man JakB on Saturday night, now that your bonehead buddy gave him a backstage pass?’

  My heart wasn’t in the rehearsal. I went through the motions, my mind flying ahead to the point where I’d be heading out to Foxton at last, wondering how Summer would be and how I would feel about Phoenix now that the line had been drawn under Logan’s funeral. Meanwhile, I sang my songs, then left the theatre without stopping to talk with Hannah and Jordan.

  Sick in my stomach, I drove my druggie boy’s toy out of town, running through the new facts I’d learned from Zak. I was hoping to see Summer without running into Hunter and the others, also dreading another clash with Phoenix. I paid no attention to the sun on the granite rocks to either side of the highway, or to the big blue sky above.

  I reached the ridge and Hunter was waiting for me, statue-still among the fluttering aspens. He greeted me with an impassive expression, then surprised me when he said. ‘Hello, Darina. I’m sorry about Logan.’

  I nodded and took a sharp i
ntake of breath.

  ‘I mean it. He was a good friend.’

  ‘The best.’ I walked on under the trees, calming myself with the soft, whispering breeze running through the canopy of fresh green leaves.

  ‘And I have to thank you for not pursuing my family history.’

  ‘You made the situation pretty plain,’ I muttered, then changed the subject. ‘Where’s Summer?’

  ‘In the barn, waiting for you.’

  We walked down the hill together, him keeping pace with my shorter stride, saying nothing, but giving me the intense stare which meant he was busy reading my mind. When we reached the weed-strewn yard, he stepped out across my path. ‘Summer has only forty-eight hours here on the far side,’ he said quietly. ‘Two days for you to find her killer.’

  ‘And if I don’t?’ My voice quivered over the biggest mystery of all.

  ‘We fail,’ Hunter said, staring steadily into my eyes. ‘She’s back in limbo.’

  ‘Unable to rest,’ I sighed. A soul in permanent torment.

  Hunter read the thought. ‘Exactly that.’ He paused to let this settle inside my throbbing head. ‘The consequences are huge. And don’t think we can do what we did as a last resort with Jonas and Arizona.’

  ‘You mean, time-travel back to the day of Summer’s death to let her relive the event?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Why not? If this new Will Stone lead doesn’t work out, and JakB slips through the net too, we may need to take her back.’

  ‘Not possible,’ Hunter insisted. ‘It’s too painful. She’s not strong enough.’

  I frowned. ‘Even if there’s no other option?’

  He took me by the arm and walked me down the side of the barn into an old corral with broken fencing and tall yellow Indian tobacco plants growing through the cracks in the flattened, parched earth. ‘You’re not listening,’ he said impatiently. ‘Time travel is the hardest thing we Beautiful Dead get to do, and even the other stuff – the storm of beating wings, the memory zap, the appearing and disappearing – they take a lot of supernatural strength, which Summer no longer has.’