I glanced over and met his eyes then quickly looked away. I couldn’t pretend it didn’t bother me. It did. But I didn’t really have the right to be jealous. Yeah, we kissed. But since then... nothing. I focused on eating and talking whenever I had something to add to the conversation.
Eventually, the table broke up. Zeke took Mateo and Marcus to the docks to show them a better way to fish. Tara followed. Asher and Miles went off to watch the four-year-olds while Ethan and Isaac were talking with their Aunt Ana.
I, on the other hand, started gathering plates and silverware to take inside. I couldn’t watch Tara hitting on Zeke anymore.
Why did she need to hit on my friends anyway? She’s pretty and rather popular. I’m sure she could get any guy she wanted at school. So, why did she have to go after one of mine? I paused at the back door. Mine? Zeke wasn’t mine. Neither were Asher and Miles. I needed to stop thinking that way.
I started adding the dishes to the left sink as I began to fill the right with rinsing water. What the hell was wrong with me? Three guys? Really, Lexie? I sighed wearily as I shut off the water and started washing the plates first.
I was lost in thought when the back door opened. I looked over my shoulder. A scowling Zeke was striding through the great room.
“Your cousin is annoying the fuck out of me,” he growled.
“Sorry.” I offered.
He glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He all but slammed the front door behind him. I bit back a smile and went back to the dishes. A part of me wanted to laugh.
Another part of me was just glad Zeke wasn’t interested in Tara. Or Asher. Or Miles. I sighed. What the hell was wrong with me?
Ethan
I was on stage, playing my heart out for the crowd. Instead of cheering they were booing.
Saying fuck it, we stopped playing and headed off stage. Cursing, I took off my guitar and resisted the urge to throw it once I got into the backstage area. The area was empty. The other guys… were somewhere else. I turned towards the back doors and froze.
Sophie was standing there in her jeans and shirt, her hair the way she always had it. Down and wild.
“Sophie?” My voice shook.
She smiled up at me with her amber eyes. “Hi, Eth.”
“You’re… here,” I said, stunned.
She stepped closer. “Yeah, I’m here. And I need you to listen.” I blinked down at her. That didn’t sound like my Sophie. She sounded… older. “You need to let me go.”
I began shaking my head. “You don’t get it…”
“Eth. You need to let me go,” she repeated. “Please, for me.” I shook my head again.
How could I let her go? With Isaac the way he was… I couldn’t.
Suddenly, I was shivering. The backstage was covered in a layer of ice. Sophie was crestfallen. I didn’t understand…
I jerked awake, gasping as I looked up at my ceiling. My breath was fog in the air.
My room was freezing. I pulled my blankets over me and waited as I had the other nights.
For the last week, I’ve woken up to my room freezing cold. That’s all the ghost ever did. Freeze my room and knock over my guitars. I rolled over to check on them. All four of them were still in their stands but this cold wasn’t good for them. The air started warming again.
I sighed. I was getting tired of this bullshit. I needed to get Lexie to move this fucker on. I’d ask her tomorrow. I quickly fell back to sleep.
Chapter 7
Monday Morning
I hurried to the cemetery. My stupid alarm hadn’t gone off and I was running late. I pulled up to the group of souls and jumped out, pulling off my bracelets as I strode towards them. What I saw had me slowing down. A ghost was being held by one of the others. What in the fresh hell? I stopped at the grass line.
“What’s going on?” I asked. The skin on his face seemed to be melting off. His flesh peeling away from his neck.
Mr. Davis struggled with the rotting soul. “It’s Martin, he’s taken in too much of the energy-”
“He’s rotting out,” I finished for him. “There’s nothing I can do for him. Get him out of here.”
Mr. Davis met my gaze, then let go. Fucking asshole! My heart slammed as the rotting soul ran straight for me. I pulled my will to me and waited. My skin tingled as if electricity ran over it. He was almost on me.
“No,” I growled, whipping out with my will like a whip. His feet went out from under him, then he hit the grass. I threw that golden thread around one of his wrists and dropped immediately. He fought me. He cursed, clawed, and howled. But I held on. My drop slowed, it was because of him. I cursed. I pictured myself getting heavier and heavier. We started to fall again.
Then I yanked hard. The soul slammed into me. His nails dug in, I deflected and tried to direct us to the Veil while keeping his hands off of me. Eventually, I managed to wrap the golden thread around both his wrists.
When we hit the grass, we hit hard. The air was knocked out of my lungs as I hit. I rolled onto my back and forced my lungs to work.
When I could I sat up; the ghost wasn’t being held by me anymore. The Veil had grown vines that wrapped around his wrists and legs. All the plants near him reached out for him. I watched dumbfounded as the vines all but covered Martin’s rotted soul.
A shudder rocked the Veil, almost throwing me back to the grass. I knelt there, stunned, as the vines shimmered, grew thicker. Martin was screaming.
All the greenery around him changed. Thicker grass sprung up, vines wrapped around a burnt stump and kept growing till they bloomed. Holy shit.
The vines were draining the energy from him. I knelt, frozen where I was. Just as I started to worry that it might drain him too much, his screaming stopped. The vines dropped away showing me a normal, healthy soul. His stunned gaze was on his shaking hands. When those gray eyes met mine, he smiled.
“Wow,” he said. “What just happened?”
I got to my feet. “Apparently, the Veil drained you of all the extra energy you absorbed.”
He eyed me. “Did you know it could do that?”
“No,” I bit out.
“Then what were you going to do?” he snapped.
“I didn’t exactly get a chance to figure it out!” I shouted back. “In case it missed your notice, they just threw you at me.” They could have fucking killed me. Movement out of the corner of my eye told me that a door had come for him.
I ignored him and looked at my body. I had scratches on my arms and shoulders. Please don’t let me have them in the physical world. Otherwise, Zeke was going to be pissed. I looked up in time to watch that ball of light shoot up into the Way.
“You’re welcome!” I shouted, completely irritated. What a dick. I closed my eyes and pulled myself out.
* * *
The cemetery was just how I left it. I quickly looked down then cursed a blue streak. The scratches came with me. Shit. I took a deep breath then looked at Mr. Davis.
“I managed to get him across. But don’t you ever fucking do that again,” I growled. “That hurt like hell.” I turned away to head toward the Blazer.
“What about the rest of us?” someone shouted.
“Fuck you!” I shouted over my shoulder before climbing into the Blazer.
I drove off, still furious that they had thrown a rotting soul at me. Did they ask me to try? No, they just went and did it. The dead were pushing it more and more. It was time to start pushing back.
I had just turned off the Blazer when it hit me. I had just crossed a rotting soul. I sat there for a full three minutes just absorbing that. I hadn’t even known that was possible. If I can cross a rotting soul… I grabbed my bag and ran to meet the guys.
I met them at our usual table outside. They saw me coming. Everyone got to their feet as if to come to me. I reached the table first.
“I managed to cross a rotting ghost this morning,” I announced. Their mouths dropped. “Rotting, like Mary Summers.”
<
br /> Miles was the first to recover. “That’s amazing, Lexie.”
The others began to say similar things when Zeke growled over them, “What happened to your arms?”
I looked down at them. Blood streaked my arms and was still dripping from other scratches. “He put up a bit of a fight, but once I got him to the Veil... the Veil just… sucked the extra energy right out of him. Then he was himself again.” I kept my voice light, wanting him to focus on what I was telling him.
“Asher, do you have your first aid kit?” Miles asked.
Asher opened his bag and pulled out a small box. Everyone sat back down, including me.
“You guys know what this means, right?” I asked as Miles pulled out antiseptic wipes.
“It means you can cross the really bad cases,” Asher offered.
“Which is great news but they can hurt you in the process,” Zeke added.
I hissed as Miles hit a particularly deep scratch.
“Sorry, but it needs to be cleaned out,” Miles told me. I didn’t argue. I sat there as they watched me get patched up. When he was done I had several band aids covering my arms along with one really long scratch on my inner forearm that ran to my wrist.
“Guys, I crossed a rotting soul,” I reiterated. “Let’s focus on the good.”
“You’re right,” Miles said. “It’s amazing that you got him to the Veil.”
The others agreed, except Zeke. Zeke was quiet.
The bell rang for first period. I picked up my bag and got up.
“I’ll take her to History,” Zeke announced. “Asher, do you want to take her to English…”
I tuned them out as they decided who would walk me to English. Yeah, I was going out on my own now. But here, in the overcrowded halls, I still needed a little help.
Everyone split up. Zeke walked beside me in silence to History. At the door his eyes ran over me one more time before leaving for his own class. He really didn’t like the scratches.
Everything went on normally until it was near the end of English. Our teacher, Mrs. Hayes, asked to see me at her desk in the back before I left. Wondering if something was wrong with my latest essay I walked back to her desk when there were a couple minutes left of class.
Mrs. Hayes was a small woman. She’d given birth to a healthy boy in January and she still had a little roundness to her body. She eyed my arms, her face concerned.
“Lexie, what happened to your arms?” she asked quietly as if I didn’t want this to be overheard.
“I petted a friend’s cat’s belly one too many times and it got even,” I lied. Her worried eyes met mine.
“You can talk to me if you need to,” she said. I was stunned for a whole five seconds.
Shit. “I didn’t cut myself,” I stated. “A cat got me.”
She still had that worried look in her eyes as she nodded. “Alright. I just wanted to check on you.” She went back to her computer.
The bell rang. Irritated, I went back to my desk and slung my backpack over my shoulder. When I stepped out into the hallway Eric was waiting.
His brown hair was still short, but not shaggy anymore, he still had enough that I could tell he used something to keep it up and back that way. He had a nice open face, a pointed chin and angled jaw. His amber colored eyes were killer, though. Too bad he was kind of a dick and had an issue with who I was friends with. At least he was pretty to look at, until he opened his mouth.
“No giant bodyguards today?” Eric asked with a smirk.
“Go fuck yourself,” I snapped as I walked past him and down the hall.
Before he could say anything else I was out of ear shot. What the hell was his problem anyway? And why did he have to express his opinion every chance he got?
Putting it out of my mind I headed for the buses for the trip to Missoula. From the long line, it looked like I was running behind. Thankfully, Ethan had said he’d hold the seat for me. I got in line behind a couple of girls and waited until I reached the teacher.
Mrs. Archer was a bird of a woman, thin and always moving. This morning she seemed to be fluttering in excitement. “Ah, Alexis. Good,” she said. “I think you’ll learn a lot from this trip. “
“That’s the hope,” I said. She checked off my name as I climbed inside.
The bus was almost packed, the noise annoying. I spotted Ethan in the middle on the right side. I dropped down next to him. “Hey, Snoopy.”
“Hey, Beautiful.” He ran his eyes over me. “Are you okay?”
I sighed. “My English teacher thinks I’m cutting myself.”
Ethan raised an eyebrow at me.
I shook my head and continued. “I know. Then on my way out the door Eric asked about my ‘giant bodyguards.’”
“What did you tell him?” he asked grinning.
“I might have told him to go fuck himself,” I admitted.
He chuckled. “I love the way you tell people off, Beautiful.” Ethan bumped his shoulder into mine. I bumped back. “We’re going to be away from the guys for several hours,” he pointed out. A mischievous light in his eyes.
“Let’s try not to get suspended.” I suggested. His smirk probably should have had me worried. But I was actually looking forward to some time with Ethan.
* * *
The Missoula Art Museum was full of classic and modern art, which meant there were many paintings, photos, sculptures, engravings, even textiles.
I was practically jumping up and down in happiness. Mrs. Archer had us go through the basic tour then she let us explore on our own.
Ethan walked with me from painting to painting, listening as I talked about the ones I liked, what I saw in them or what other people might see in them. It wasn’t until my voice grew raspy and I took a drink from my water bottle that I realized I had been rambling on. Ethan had a small grin on his face as he met my eyes.
“I’ve been talking a long time, haven’t I?” I asked, cringing. He smiled gently.
“I like listening to you talk about art,” he admitted. “You don’t do it enough.”
“Because I go on and on until someone stops me.” I looked up at the next painting.
“More like, you get excited,” he corrected. “And you’re cute when you’re excited.”
I turned to look up at him to see if he was joking. He looked down at me with warm eyes. He wasn’t. My heart gave a hard thump. “Is there anything you wanted to see?”
He shook his head. “Not really.”
I turned back to look at the landscape in front of us. “Why did you sign up for an art museum field trip if there was nothing you wanted to see?”
He chuckled as we moved through the room. “Well, it did get me out of classes for the day.”
I smiled. “Ooh, good point.”
“The other reason I came was because you were looking forward to it,” he said. I slowed to a stop then turned around.
Ethan stepped closer, his spicy cologne surrounding me. “You got really excited about this trip.” His eyes ran over my face before meeting mine again. “And you don’t get excited about a lot of things anymore. I wanted to see what you were so passionate about.”
I didn’t know what to say. What were you supposed to say to that? Feeling awkward I was, naturally, a smartass. “And now you’re bored to tears and counting the seconds until you can go home.”
He chuckled as he looked over at the painting. “Not really. But I think I get why you like art as much as you like music now.”
I turned and moved on to the next piece. This one was a black and white photo of a church in France. “Why’s that?” I asked quietly.
He kept pace with me, staying close. “Because it expresses something that people are afraid to say out loud.”
We came to another painting, he pulled me to a stop. “And everyone sees something different. For instance,” he pointed at the painting in front of us, “what do you see in this one?”
I licked my lips and looked up at the painting. It was of a young wo
man in a gown simply sitting in a dark room. It was… interesting.
I looked over the painting and thought about it. “I see a woman waiting for the axe to fall.”
Ethan stepped closer until he was behind me, his breath slipping through my hair. The museum faded as his hands went to my shoulders.
“Why’s that?” he asked in that smooth, soft, smoky voice he rarely used.
“She’s sitting in the dark. It looks like she’s been crying; her makeup is smudged. It looks like she’s half dressed. She’s in her corset and skirt, as if she doesn’t want to be vulnerable to whatever happens next,” I said softly.
“I can see that,” he admitted quietly. “Do you want to know what I see?”
“Yeah.”
“The woman I see is tired. She’s had a hard time, but she’s not taking off her clothes.” His voice was light and soft in my ear. “It’s morning, and she’s stopped in the middle of getting dressed to take a minute to give herself time to think about what she’ll face that day. To remind herself that she can handle whatever it is coming at her.” His squeezed my shoulders gently as his voice slid through my ears. My eyes burned as he continued. “I see a woman getting ready to fight again. And I think that’s why the artist painted it. To show her strength.” I bit my bottom lip hard to push back the tears. It helped. “Or she’s been dancing all night, drunk and she’s sitting down because her feet hurt,” he added lightly. I chuckled as he squeezed my shoulders again before he continued, “There’s a lot of interpretations for a song, just like with a painting.”
“I guess that makes sense,” I said. I pulled my eyes from the painting to look up at him.
“You know, we might actually know what the artist wanted to show if we get the audio tour for the entire museum.”
He grinned down at me. “But it’s fun making up stories for them,” he protested.
Whispers From the Dead Page 10
