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For my grandmother Lorene, who loved family and life in equal measure
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The acknowledgments page in any novel is a chance for the author to say thank you. I’ve been fortunate to have the friendship and support of many talented members of the science fiction and fantasy writing community. I can’t express my gratitude to all of them in this space, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten.
But I can thank the usual suspects: my friends through thick and thin, Elizabeth Bear, Jodi Meadows, Rae Carson, Amanda Downum, Kat Allen, Celia Marsh, and Katherine Miller, who were always there when I needed them; the Million Monkeys, Charles Coleman Finlay, Tobias Buckell, Paul Melko, and Tom Barlow, who taught me structure and made me like it; my faithful and true critters on the Online Writer’s Workshop for Science Fiction and Fantasy, P. J. Thompson, J. R. Hockman, Teresa Frohock, and Josh Vogt, who helped me see what worked; writers and poets extraordinaire Marcy Rockwell and Samantha Henderson, who were always willing to help; all the denizens of The Zoo both past and present; Steve Mancino, who took me seriously and taught me so much; and my daughter, Stephanie Irwin, who fell in love with Delia and knew this was the one.
Finally, I need to thank my tireless, hard-working agent, Tamar Rydzinski, who never gave up, and my partner in crime and life, Marshall Payne, who kept telling me this day would come.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Map
Map
Map
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
About the Author
Copyright
CHAPTER 1
Delia
The locomotive engine belched billowing clouds of steam, a black-iron dragon chained to the tracks. Warm air ruffled my hair and vanished before I became sure I’d felt it. Foggy, late-spring nights in San Francisco were cold, something I’d conveniently forgotten.
Sam, the elderly porter who’d looked after me all the way from New York, took my satchel and offered his hand as I came down the rickety train-car steps. “Will you be all right on your own, Miss Delia? I can wait until your friend comes if you’d feel better.”
“I’ll be fine.” I shook out my skirts and took my bag. “This is home. I won’t get lost.”
He doffed his cap and smiled. “You take extra care anyway. Lots of strangers in town for the fair.”
I tipped Sam a dollar and moved away from the tracks, facing my fear head on and confronting the reason I’d left home three years ago. San Francisco was full of ghosts. Long-dead children trailed after sad and worn-looking women, and young mothers carrying newborn babes followed proper-looking gentlemen with new wives on an arm. Each restless soul clung to someone they’d loved in life, unwilling to let go. Others walked purposely through train cars and walls, following paths they’d walked before or stopping to cross streets that no longer existed.
Ever since I was a small child I’d caught glimpses of people my parents couldn’t see, or faces peering at me from corners in an otherwise empty room. More than once I’d run to my mother frightened and certain that some stranger had crept into our house. Each time she’d stopped whatever she was doing and taken my hand, walking me from room to room so I could see no one was there. She thought the ghosts I saw an overabundance of childhood fancy, something I’d outgrow in time.
My mother was seldom wrong, but growing up didn’t cure me of seeing spirits. After the earthquake and subsequent fire nine years ago, I began to see them everywhere. Some ghosts were translucent with no more substance than the fog, barely in the world of the living. I’d no way of knowing for certain, but I thought them the oldest or with the fewest ties to loved ones. Others were so close to solid looking I might have thought them made of warm flesh if not for the old style of their clothes and ability to walk through objects.
Going to New York was an attempt to escape spirits and find respite, however brief. That respite lasted almost two and a half years. Long enough to think I might have a normal life.
I dropped my monogrammed satchel on a bench and gathered courage to search the faces on the platform for Sadie. My shadow stood before me, appearing so alive I expected to see her breathe. Thinking of her as a shadow made me feel less insane. I’d never wanted to believe in ghosts, not really. After six months of being haunted by one, I clung to every scrap of sanity I could.
She watched patiently and waited to follow as soon as I moved away. Long dark hair was plaited and coiled neatly on the top of her head, exposing delicate ears and a pale neck. Slender fingers clutched a thin shawl closed over her old-fashioned white cotton blouse. A gold cross glittered at her throat, tiny and easily missed. Dark-blue skirts brushed the top of her scuffed shoes. Green eyes met mine, aware that I saw her.
I didn’t know her name or why she followed me; she’d died before I was born. She’d found and laid claim to me just the same.
Since the morning I awoke to find her standing at the side of my bed, I began to see spirits everywhere again. My hopes for a normal life had vanished. I couldn’t help but feel a touch of panic at the thought of being haunted. But everyone had a shadow, perfectly normal people who never gave the bit of darkness following them a thought. Normalcy was something I desperately craved. Returning home might give me a chance to find it again.
The train station was new since I’d left three years before. Tall stone columns held up a ceiling decorated with plaster medallions carved into intricate leaves and flowers, the designs overlaid with gold leaf to catch the light. Oval windows along the front wall were framed in dark wood, beveled glass held in place by strips of soldered lead foil.
Nightfall meant clouds had moved in off the bay, smothering the city in a curtain of gray mist. Fog rolled through the arched double doors open at the end of the platform, wisps flowing across soiled tile floors and leaving a slick film of moisture behind. Dampness glistened on wooden benches framed with iron, filmed flickering electric lamps, and the four-wheeled carts porters filled with luggage too large to carry.
A deep breath brought the salt-tang of the bay and of fish offloaded on the docks, overlaid with the oily scent of cinders darkening the track bed. The fire had changed the look of the city, ripped away familiar places and replaced them with new buildings, but the air still smelled of home.
“Delia! Over here!” Sadie waved and plowed through the crowd, living and dead. Tall and slim, Sadie’s wide-brimmed hat was tipped to show off a heart-shaped face and ocean-blue eyes. She was always in fashion, wearing the latest styles to sweep the city. I’d no doubt the fur-trimmed wool coat, the black kid gloves, and
beads looped around her neck were all the rage. She’d cut her hair as well and curls the color of sun-ripe wheat foamed out of the hat. I felt like the poor country cousin in my traveling garb.
I kept a smile on my face, knowing she wouldn’t understand my flinch as she walked through the middle of a gold-rush miner and a Chinese railroad worker. My shadow stepped aside or Sadie might have ended up standing inside the ghost.
“It’s so good to see you.” I shut my eyes and hugged Sadie, unnerved at seeing my ghost hovering behind her. “Three years is a long time.”
She held me at arm’s length, glee barely contained. “I’m not the one who took a teaching job on the other side of the country. You’ve no one to blame for being deprived of my company but yourself. I might even forgive you for going away if you show proper appreciation for my surprise.”
“Surprise?” She was the same old Sadie, bubbly and bright, brimming with secrets and infectious good humor. I really was home and laughing easy. Being haunted suddenly didn’t seem as horrible. “Are you going to tell me or make me wait to find out?”
Sadie tugged off her glove and shoved a hand under my nose, grinning and obviously pleased with herself. A sapphire and garnet ring sparkled on her finger. “Look! Isn’t it glorious?”
“Oh, yes, completely glorious.” I held her hand where I could view her finger without my eyes crossing. The ring was beautiful, stones catching the light and glimmering like captured stars. “From Jack I assume. I hope you’d have written if you’d tossed him aside and taken up with a new suitor.”
She laughed, knowing me too well to think my words anything but teasing. “Of course it’s Jack. Now let’s get home. You must be exhausted and Mother’s waiting up to see you. I’ve got a cab parked at the curb. Do you have another bag?”
“Somehow my trunk got put on the wrong train when I transferred in Denver. The rail company assures me they’ll send the luggage on and deliver it to the house.” I hefted the small satchel and threaded my other arm through Sadie’s. “I’ll survive until it arrives. How is Mama Esther?”
Sadie’s frown was an unfamiliar visitor on her face. “Weaker. The doctors tell me that hanging on through the winter was a positive sign. I’m sure she pays them to lie to me and thinks I don’t know.” She squeezed my hand and smiled. “I’m glad you came home for the summer. Seeing you will brighten the house for all of us. And I’m counting on you to talk some sense into me about wedding plans.”
I laughed again and we started for the door, my shadow a step behind. More ghosts crowded the lobby now that the train was empty, far more than I’d seen in one place before. None wore the face of those I’d loved and lost in the quake, and I was very grateful. I steeled myself to walk normally and not try to steer Sadie around spirits. She couldn’t see and wouldn’t feel them, but I didn’t have that luxury.
Each ghost that passed through me deepened the clammy chill that shivered over my skin. Voices filled my head and faded again. I heard cries of pain and pleas for help from those trapped under rubble after the quake, felt the heat of the fire steal a last breath. Age and sickness stole life as well, seldom peacefully. Touching death again and again brought me closer to tears. I gritted my teeth and held on. People would truly think me insane if I began to cry for no reason.
Fog swallowed the ghosts as soon as we stepped outside, all but my shadow. I caught my breath, grateful they’d vanished and not caring why. Sadie chatted about mutual friends all the way to the cab, filling me in on all the gossip and scandals I’d missed. We’d been friends since the age of ten and our time together was always the same, her talking a blue streak and me listening.
The cab driver took my bag, tucking the satchel into the footwell of the driver’s seat before helping Sadie and me into the cab. My shadow drifted into view as well, sitting next to Sadie and watching me with the expectant stare I’d come to know. I’d become more certain she wanted something from me as the months went by. What the ghost expected I’d no idea, but coming home was the first step toward discovery.
Sadie waited until the driver whistled the horses into motion, and the four-horse hack lurched away from the curb before she pounced. “Fess up, Delia. You didn’t come home just to see the exposition. Tell me what’s wrong. Did the boy you were seeing break it off? For the life of me I can’t remember his name, but you know the one I mean.”
“Jonathan?”
“Yes! That’s the one.” She leaned forward and touched my hand. “You didn’t mention him in the last letters you sent. I thought that must be the reason, that he’d ended the engagement. That sort of thing is always so dreadful.”
“Nothing so dramatic as a broken engagement, Sadie. We never got to that point. And if you must know, Jonathan didn’t break off courting me. I told him I didn’t see a future for the two of us.” I leaned back against the cold leather seat, surprised that Sadie thought a broken heart would send me running for home. “Do I need a special reason for coming to visit?”
She crossed her arms, bunching the fur collar on her coat and peered at me from under the brim of her hat. Nothing put Sadie off once she’d caught the scent of even a hint of gossip. “This is me, Dee. That story might work on Mother, but I know better.”
My shadow had turned away, staring out the cab window as the horses labored up hills, past neighborhoods newly built since the fire and through pockets of streets spared by the flames. Watching the ghost’s wistful expression, I could well believe that she’d come home as well. Perhaps she had.
I smoothed ash-gray skirts over my knees, stalling another moment. “All right. I did want to see the fair, that part is true. And I’ve missed you terribly, but that’s not the entire reason.”
Sadie leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “I knew it. Keep talking and don’t make me pry it out of you.”
Of all the people in my life, Sadie was the one I felt sure would believe me. My parents hosted a society benefit at our house one night when we were both twelve. Sadie came to keep me company and we spent the night up in my room, trading secrets. Clouds covered the moon and wind whipped rain and tree branches against my window, making the atmosphere decidedly spooky. She hadn’t believed my claim of seeing ghosts at first, so I’d tried to frighten Sadie by describing the haunts wandering through the churchyard across the street, wildly embellishing to make them sound more gruesome. Instead of being scared, she’d sworn to keep my secret and begged me to teach her how to see spirits as well. I knew then I could trust her with anything.
That didn’t make telling her any easier or take away the worry of what she’d think. I folded my hands in my lap and swallowed back tears. “What would you say if I told you I thought—I knew—that a ghost was following me? That I was being … haunted.”
“Haunted? Really?” Sadie bounced in her seat, face lit with delight. “Tell me you mean it and that you’re not teasing.”
“I mean it, Sadie. I’ve never been more serious.” I’d hoped she’d believe me, but I hadn’t anticipated enthusiasm. “She follows me everywhere and I’ve no idea why.”
“Where is this ghost now?”
I nodded at the spirit, still transfixed with the scene outside the window. “Sitting next to you. She seems taken with the scenery at the moment. Most of the time she stares at me.”
Sadie grabbed both my hands. “A real ghost! How exciting. What’s her name?”
“I don’t know her name or anything about her, just that she wants me to do something. I’ve had the feeling since she came to me that something terrible happened to her.” My shadow turned from the window, her face a study in patience. I saw something new in her green eyes as well—sorrow. Not at all sure why, I began to cry, wiping tears on a sleeve and embarrassed that I couldn’t stop. “Then a few weeks ago I started dreaming about being in San Francisco. She was always there, just as she was in New York. But instead of following she was … leading me toward something. I woke up one morning and knew I had to come home. So here I am. Crazy, isn’t it?”<
br />
“Oh, Dee.” Sadie sobered and passed me a lace-trimmed hankie from her bag. “No, it’s not crazy and neither are you. You did the right thing. I know a person who can help, someone with a real connection to the spirit world. We’ll find some answers and the ghost won’t need to haunt you.”
“I knew I could count on you. Thank you.” I dried my face and balled the damp handkerchief in my hand, still sniffling, but calmer now that she knew. Underneath Sadie’s foolish exterior was a good heart. “Call her Shadow. It’s more dignified and respectful, at least until we discover her true name. I can’t bring myself to think of her as just another ghost.”
Shadow went back to her silent vigil and I watched out the window as well, reacquainting myself with home. Fog softened brick and glass storefronts, the sharp corners not yet worn by storms or wind rounded by mist-shadows. Empty lots were a swirl of pearly gray. The familiar was there, but so much was new and jarring, so much gone. I could name each missing storefront on the blocks I’d walked summer evenings with my first beau. The ice-cream parlor was gone and a butcher shop in its place, the candy store where he’d bought me taffy replaced with a tailor’s shop. Each loss was a fresh stab of pain.
New houses filled this side of the hill, built in the style of the homes lost to the fire. Tall turret rooms and bay windows overlooked the street, and columned porches graced the front. Even fog couldn’t soften the sheen of too-bright paint on wooden siding and the scalloped trim dangling from the edge of roofs, or framing windows. In time the paint would fade, the harshness so evident to one who’d grown up in the city gradually become less noticeable. Now each new dwelling was a fresh wound, bleeding and garish.
Three years away hadn’t prepared me or cushioned the blow. If the city was Shadow’s home, I couldn’t imagine what San Francisco looked like to her, or how much the changes hurt.
The cab stopped in front of the small house atop Russian Hill. I gathered my skirts and slid out after Sadie, digging coins from my handbag to pay the driver before my friend could stop me or protest.
Delia's Shadow Page 1
