Lucid, YA Paranormal Romance (Brightest Kind of Darkness Series, Book #2)

by Patrice Michelle

  “Gran! It’s Inara. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah—” More shuffling, then a sliding sound. “Just…give…me…a…sec.” She’d heaved out the last word right before she opened the door, green eyes full of excitement. Several tall boxes surrounded my great-aunt, making her petite cardigan-framed body look even frailer. “What a lovely surprise! Ooh, I like your new jacket. And the red scarf is so smart with it,” she said, kissing me on the cheek before pulling me inside to stand in her box-scattered entryway.

  Gran smelled like SweeTarts. I’d bet ten dollars she had a few pieces of the candy sitting in her light green cardigan’s pocket. To say my great-aunt had a sweet tooth would be an understatement. Maybe that meant she’d given up on gummy worms as a fertilizer source for her plants, I thought with a wry smile. “Thanks Gran. Aunt Sage gave me the jacket and Lainey gave me the scarf for early birthday presents.”

  “Ah, yes, your birthday’s in a couple of weeks. The big seventeen.” She closed the door behind me, singing, “Sexy and Seventeen.”

  I coughed past my embarrassment and turned to the boxes, counting five in the hall and three in the living room. “What’s with all the boxes?” Gran had been at Westminster for years. I had no idea where these boxes came from.

  “It’s Storage Wars!” Gran declared, wiry gray eyebrows raised in glee.

  “Storage wars?” I weaved around the opened boxes and wrapping paper strewn across her living room floor, following Gran into the kitchen, where she reached into a smaller box she’d set on her table.

  “Clara and I have gotten hooked on that show.” She pulled out a package wrapped in newspaper and began to unravel it. “And since we both had storage units, we decided to have a little storage war of our own.”

  Oh no! Clara again. I really hoped Gran found something that would trump whatever her neighbor found among her storage stuff. Gran and Clara had an ongoing who’s-the-best rivalry, and I’d gotten pulled into it the last time. I gestured to the boxes. “And how will you and Clara determine who has a better haul?”

  Gran’s lips tilted in amusement. “This time it’s not about winning. It’s about remembering. When you get my age, Inara, unpacking stuff you haven’t seen in eons is like seeing it for the first time. Except memories eventually come flooding back. That makes it even better.” A pause. “Well, usually.” Shaking her head as if to clear it, she continued, “Clara and I plan to take trips down memory lane and share our stories.”

  She glanced at the item in her hand and finished unwrapping it. It was a hand-painted Williamsburg blue pitcher with small pink flowers. “This was from an art class I took with Margaret fourteen years ago.” A smirk formed on her lips as she turned the pitcher around in her gnarled hands. “Not my best work, but the class wasn’t really about that.”

  My grandparents on my dad’s side had passed away several years before I was born. I didn’t remember my mom’s parents—Margaret was Gran’s sister—because they’d died in a car accident when I was little. Taking a sip of my coffee, I nodded to the pitcher. “Not about art? What was it about then?”

  Sadness crept into Gran’s eyes, her shaky hands spreading around the pitcher. “Margaret and I had started taking classes together a couple of times a year at CVU so we could do something fun, like we used to when we lived in the same house as kids. This was the last class I took with my little sister before that stupid drunk driver cut her life short.” She ran her fingers over the flowers, her bitter tone turning wistful. “The last memories I have are of her laughing at my silly pitcher.”

  I ran my fingertip over one of the flowers. So what if they weren’t all perfectly even? “Silly? It’s practical. You can use it for water or as a vase and fill it with sunflowers.”

  “A vase?” Gran’s eyes brightened. “That’s a wonderful idea. When sunflowers are in season, I’ll do that. The bright yellow and blue combination will be striking, a perfect reminder of Margaret.”

  I tilted my head. “And what did my grandmother make that she felt she could tease you about your pitcher?”

  “Oh, Margaret was very talented. Her project ripped mine right out of the volcano.”

  Gran’s mangled sayings resembled a pair of mismatched socks…in polka dots and argyle. Still, they always made me smile.

  “Here, I’ll show you—” Gran shuffled over to another small box that sat on her couch. As she riffled through it, the label on the side read: Margaret’s Stuff.

  I blinked when she held out a package that had been carefully bundled in bubble wrap. “You do the honors, Inara. I want to watch your face when you see just how talented your grandmother was.”

  As I started to take it, she pulled back slightly, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Wait, you’ve already seen this, haven’t you?”

  I shook my head and snorted. Gran and my aunt Sage were the only two family members who knew about my gift. “I didn’t sleep well last night and was woken before I saw my whole day, so I never saw this visit with you.”

  “Good.” Smugness filled her gaze as she pushed the package my way, eyes twinkling with pride. “Go on, open it.”

  I broke the tape and began to unwrap the “masterpiece,” expecting to see an intricately painted coffee mug. When a black raven statue with piercing eyes rolled out of the packaging into my hand, I stared at it in surprise.

  “It looks so real it takes your breath away, doesn’t it?” Gran said, running her fingers along the bird’s back. My grandmother had carved each feather in painstaking detail, even giving the bird personality in the way she formed its head, tilting it just slightly as if the bird were looking right at you.

  “Yes, it does,” I whispered. “Why did she choose a raven?”

  Gran chuckled. “I blame an earlier classmate from our watercolor class for that. Freddie had painted a stunning raven and my sister was so impressed, she got to know him better, asking how he could draw with such amazing clarity.” She rubbed her nose, then sneezed. “Turns out he raised them.”

  I tore my gaze from the raven statue. “Raised them? I didn’t think you could keep ravens in captivity. Aren’t they protected by law?” I’d researched ravens enough to know that little bit about them.

  Gran shrugged. “I remember him saying he had a license to study ravens for research, since he was going to write a book about them.”

  My eyes widened and my fingers tightened around the bird. “He was from Virginia?” When Gran nodded, I said, “I…um, am studying ravens for a school project. I would love to interview him. What’s his last name?”

  Gran gave a blank stare, then frowned. “I don’t know his last name. I can’t remember if it even came up in conversation.”

  Tension zipped along my spine. “Did he publish his book?” I should be able to find a way to contact him through the book or his website if he had one. Was he in his seventies as well? Maybe he was retired.

  Gran shook her head. “I don’t know. Margaret and I lost touch with him after that class was over.”

  I glanced down at the raven in my hand. I couldn’t believe my grandmother had molded and painted the bird. Gran was right, she was incredibly talented. But what blew my mind was that my grandmother had chosen a raven. What were the odds? Or was I only seeing a connection due to my own current raven fixation? “I wish I’d gotten to know her,” I said wistfully.

  “I wish you could’ve known her too—oh, I knew there was another reason I pulled these boxes out.” Gran’s eyes flashed and her gaze bounced between three tall boxes, before she dove into the one closest to the door. “Your upcoming birthday reminded me…” she began, sounding muffled as she half-hung inside the box. While she flung wrapping paper over her shoulder, I edged closer to the droopy potted plant beside her couch.

  Three gummy worms hung halfway out of the potting soil. Gran believed even plants needed sugar. With a silent chuckle, I pulled the worms out, then dumped the baggie of coffee grounds the Java place kindly donated onto the soil. After I’d quickly mixed the coffe
e in with my finger, I zipped the gummy worms into the baggie.

  I’d just slipped the baggie into my pocket when Gran surfaced, her gray hair all mussed. “Well, pooh, I can’t find it.” She shook a finger at me. “But I will.”

  “Find what?” I casually took a sip of my now lukewarm coffee.

  “Never you mind, young lady. You’ll see.” Planting her hands on her hips, she eyed the other boxes with a determined stare.

  I drained the last of my coffee, then tossed the empty cup into the trashcan under the sink. Gran was already elbow-deep into the next box when I came out of the kitchen. “I promised I’d stop by CVAS tonight, Gran, so I’m going to have to go.”

  When Gran came up for air, I picked a piece of wrapping paper off her shoulder. “Thanks for sharing some memories with me.”

  “Thank you for coming for a visit.” She rose on her toes to kiss my cheek. When she sat back on her heels, her nose was wrinkled. “Whew, you really smell like coffee. Got an extra strong one today, didn’t you, dear?”

  I snickered. “Well, you smell like SweeTarts. How many are in your pocket?”

  Gran gave me a sheepish smile as she pulled one out of her cardigan. “Only a couple left.” She pushed a pink piece toward me. “Want one?”

  “No thanks, you have it.” As I turned to leave, Gran said, “Wait!” She quickly gathered the raven back into its bubble wrap then set it in my hands. “Here, take this for inspiration.”

  Tears prickled my eyes as I grasped the statue. “Are you sure?”

  Gran swallowed as if she were choked up too. “She’d want you to have it, especially since you’ve got that project you’re working on.”

  I hugged the package close and smiled. “Thank you, Gran. This means a lot.”

  * * *

  I inhaled deeply as I walked past the front desk and into the back of the Central Virginia’s Animal Shelter. Animal smells mixed with general business sounds of dogs panting, cats playing and volunteers talking coalesced into a comforting montage I would never tire of.

  I waved to Harper, who was in the process of feeding the dogs. “I’ll be back,” I said, keeping my pace brisk. I was determined to catch Sally before she went back up front. Jane had told me she was in the bathing section showing a new volunteer how we bathe the animals.

  “Okay,” Harper called back as I poked my head around the open doorway that led to the bathing area. Someone had propped open one of the heavy swinging doors. I was thankful, since it was either steam-bath hot or teeth-chattering cold in that room. The one constant was the moisture in the air. I smirked, thinking Lainey and her wavy hair would totally declare this space off-limits so she could avoid the dreaded “frizz hair.”

  Sally was in the process of showing a freckle-faced guy how to spray down a dog that had the face and floppy ears of a Lab with the solid body of a Rhodesian Ridgeback. “Like this Scott, smooth, even strokes. Got it?”

  Scott nodded and followed her hand movement. He’d just taken the sprayer out of her hand when I said, “Hey, Sally. Harper asked me to stop by, but I did have a quick question for you.”

  Sally blew her frizzy blonde curls out of her eyes. Several pieces had come out of the fast ponytail she’d put up, sticking to her round face in the moist room. “Ask away,” she said, while she watched Scott spray down the dog.

  “Do you know of a local author who has published a book about ravens? A Freddie something?”

  She quickly shook her head. “No, I haven’t heard of him. Why?”

  “My great-aunt mentioned a guy that she took art classes with over fifteen years ago. She said he raised ravens to study and write about them. Unfortunately she can’t remember his last name. I’d like to contact him so I can interview him for a school project.”

  She rubbed a wet hand on her chin. “I’ve only been with CVAS for eight years, so that was before my time.” Pausing, her eyes lit up. “But if you can’t find him, you could check with the Wildlife Preserve facility. I know that they’ve fostered ravens in the past. I’ll give you their number before you leave.”

  When Scott lifted his hand off the dog’s coat in order to spray its legs, Sally quickly turned to put her hand on the wet fur. “Always keep your hand cupped on the back of the dog’s head. He’ll be less likely to shake, soaking you,” she gently reminded.

  “Thanks for the tip, Sally. I’ll check it out—”

  My jacket and shirt were yanked hard, cutting me off. I fell backward with the force, choking as I slammed into a slight frame.

  At the same time a blast of cool, moist air blew toward my face, warm breath slid down the back of my neck and a feminine voice said, “Whew, that was close!”

  Harper.

  My heart pounded and my throat burned from being clotheslined by my own shirt. I blinked in confusion for a second until I saw the bathing room door swinging to a stop against the other closed door. The wedge must have slipped out, sending the heavy door flying toward my head and shoulders.

  “Ugh, that was close.” I ran my hand down my hair, feeling for flyaways. No sparks or electricity of any kind. It wasn’t Fate. The door must’ve slipped on its own. I turned to Harper. “That wouldn’t have felt good. Thanks!”

  She beamed and her cheeks bloomed with pleased color. “My pleasure,” she said, tugging her black Abercrombie hoodie’s zipper toward her neck as if she needed to make sure it was completely closed. “By the way, I did an internship with the Wildlife Preserve that Sally mentioned.”

  Even in a casual hoodie, the way she had it zipped all the way to her throat like that made her look stiff and preppy…and young. “You did?”

  Nodding, she continued, “Yep. Sally’s right, they used to have ravens, but they haven’t had them for a couple of years. I interned there first semester last year. We sheltered and rehabilitated all kinds of wild animals, but no ravens.”

  I sighed inwardly. One step forward, two steps back. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll give them a call and see if they’ve heard of this raven guy.”

  She nodded, her ponytail swishing. “It can’t hurt.”

  I glanced down at the fur caking every surface of her black hoodie and smiled as I unzipped it a few inches for her. “Now that I’m here, CVAS tip number one - dark colored clothes and fur…not a good combo. Also, I keep one of the lint roller things in my car.”

  Harper clapped her hands and grinned. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  I ended up staying until CVAS closed. Harper had so many questions, she followed me around like a puppy, yipping away. Ironically she left before me, since her boyfriend picked her up in an old clunker pickup truck.

  When he got out of the truck to open the stuck passenger side door for her, I paused in the process of inventorying the dog food cart in the storage room to peer through the window curtain. A prep school, floppy-haired blond boy was the kind of guy I expected to see her with, not a tall, shaved-head, wiry-framed guy wearing a leather jacket, combat boots, and a chain hanging out of the back pocket of his ragged jeans. My eyebrows shot up at the Anarchy sign on his t-shirt as he walked back around to the driver’s side. When he leaned across the seat to kiss her before patting her on the head, I shook my head, stunned by the unexpected pairing.

  Once they drove off, I smiled and resumed my work. Sweet, shy Harper has a rebel boyfriend. Never make assumptions, Lainey!

  Before I left, I was almost knocked over by a tawny-colored dog rushing past, bolting for freedom. Scott stood at the end of the hall, leash dangling, shocked embarrassment stamped on his face.

  “Stop!” I called in a commanding voice. The runaway dog tensed and tried to stop, but his paws skidded across the slick tile. I winced as he slammed into the door that led to the front of CVAS. I hurried to his side as he scrambled to his feet. Brown eyes wild with fear, he panted in fierce, gusty dog breath.

  I put my hand on his head and pulled him close to my thigh, speaking in calming tones. Scott approached with trepidation, his wary gaze on the dog. I held my han
d out for the leash. “He’s just a little freaked out. He’ll adjust.”

  “How did you get him to calm down like that?” Scott asked, respect reflected in his gaze.

  I smiled and slipped the leash around the dog’s neck. “I learned a trick or two from a friend who works here. You’ll get to meet him at some point.”

  Awe filled Scott’s eyes. “You’re talking about Ethan, right? I heard he’s like a magician with all the animals.”

  “Yeah, he’s wonderful with them.” Nodding, I patted the dog’s head. “And he’d have you wrapped around his little finger, boy,” I crooned at the dog who turned calm brown eyes my way.

  Scott laughed. “Looks like you’ve made a fan. It’s Nara, right? I’m Scott.”

  “Yep, I’m Nara. It’s nice to meet you.” I rubbed the dog’s jowls, then gently scrubbed behind his ear. “You ready to go with Scott like a good boy?”

  While Scott walked the dog back to the kennels, Sally spoke from behind me. “We’re so full right now. I would love for someone to foster that one until we have more space in the bigger kennels.”

  I glanced her way with an apologetic look. “You know I would if my mom weren’t allergic, Sally.”

  Sally wrapped her arm around my shoulder and pulled me to her side for a quick hug. “I know you would in a heartbeat, Nara. We’ll figure it out.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The next morning, I woke feeling groggy. A muffled hammering ricocheted in my head. Sunlight streaked through my room, blinding me as I tried to focus my gaze and decipher the noise.

  A flash of something black in my periphery drew my attention to the window. It was Patch flying off. I rushed over to unlock it, then lifted the pane as fast as I could, but the moody raven was gone. He’d often shown his displeasure if I didn’t open the window fast enough by demanding more than his requisite two sheets of shredding paper before he’d settle. I slid my gaze to the clock and blinked in surprise. It was thirty minutes later than I usually got up. Why hadn’t my alarm woken me?