Not Just Voodoo

by Rebecca Hamilton

  Betsy caught my glare. “It was just a harmless prank. We all pick on each other. Anyone else would have thought it was funny.”

  “She lost her mom,” I stated flatly.

  The few people still talking or laughing immediately went silent, and every face in the room dropped, including Betsy’s and Jenna’s. It was so quiet that the only sound I could hear was the buzz of the ceiling fan.

  “We had no idea,” Jenna said in a regretful whisper.

  The guilt was clearly written across Betsy’s face. “Yeah. If we’d known, we would have never…” She seemed at a loss for words.

  I glanced down the hall toward Alyssa. She’d taken a seat on the stairs. She held the heart-shaped locket out in front of her, letting it swing like a pendulum while she stared at it in awe. Tearing her gaze off the locket, she shifted her attention to the note her mom had left, unfolding it carefully like she was afraid it might crumble in her hands. Her eyes visibly filled with tears as she scanned the page.

  I turned back to Betsy and Jenna. “Just give her a minute alone, and then you two should go apologize.”

  “We will,” Jenna assured me with an eager nod. “We’re so sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize to me,” I bit almost too sharply. “She’s part of our team now, and she deserves to feel like it.”

  Betsy turned her gaze down in guilt. “We didn’t mean to single her out. It was just supposed to be for laughs.”

  I raised my eyebrows, about to point out that no one was laughing now, but I didn’t want to drag it all out. The girls could clearly see that what they’d done was wrong. I glanced back down the hall to Alyssa on the steps. She folded up the note and slipped it into her bag before clasping the locket around her neck and wiping her eyes.

  I dropped my arms from my chest. “You can go apologize now.”

  Jenna and Betsy sprang up from their spots on the floor and practically raced each other down the hall. “We’re so sorry, Alyssa,” they cried in unison.

  I crossed the living room to sit beside Emma on the floor. The whispers around the room slowly grew to full conversation, giving Emma and me a chance to talk.

  “Is Alyssa okay?” she asked, biting her lip in uncertainty.

  I nodded. “I think she’ll be fine. Turns out that thing I saw earlier meant something.”

  “Yeah? What’d you see?”

  I lowered my voice and leaned toward her to fill her in on the details. When I drew away, her eyebrows were practically touching her hairline.

  “Wow. Well, at least it all worked out for the better, you know?”

  I nodded again, but I wasn’t sure it was all worth getting the Ouija board out for. At least Alyssa now had something to comfort her after her mother’s death, but knowing the Ouija board was only a few feet away from me in the cabinet kept my nerves alive.

  Betsy, Jenna, and Alyssa returned a few minutes later. I didn’t know what they’d said to her, but Alyssa’s tears had dried. She crossed over to her spot on the couch—which no one had been rude enough to claim—and set her backpack next to me. She caught my eyes as she sat and mouthed, “Thank you.” Her hand came up to clamp around the locket.

  “You’re welcome,” I mouthed back.

  When no one else was looking, she slid her fingernail between the creases of the locket and popped it open. I couldn’t see what sort of pictures were inside, but she breathed a sigh and relaxed into the couch before securing it shut again.

  I quickly took my eyes off her so she wouldn’t notice I was watching.

  “Hey, Alyssa,” Katie called from across the room. “Why don’t you come sit over here by us?”

  It was a nice gesture, and I was glad to see my teammates acting like their usual welcoming selves again. Before Alyssa could agree or disagree, Betsy suggested everyone head to the kitchen to get food. Everyone stood and shuffled down the hall, not one person but me wondering how we were all going to fit into the kitchen at once.

  Emma was the last one out of the room besides me. She turned back in the doorway. “Crystal, are you coming?”

  I stood planted in place. “Yeah, just a minute.”

  Emma headed down the hall with everyone else, giving me privacy. I glanced around the room, focusing on its energy to confirm there hadn’t been any spirits at play earlier that night. After verifying that everything felt normal, I finally let myself relax. But as I exited the room to join my teammates in the kitchen, a sense of wariness settled over me. Though there hadn’t been any evil spirits here tonight, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the evil spirits would eventually find me—and soon.

  The End

  About Alicia

  Alicia Rades is an award-winning young adult paranormal author with a love for supernatural stories set in the modern world. When she’s not plotting out fiction novels, you can find her plowing her way through her never-ending reading list. Alicia lives in Wisconsin with her husband and two cats.

  www.aliciaradesauthor.com

  Another Freebie from Alicia

  CRYSTAL FROST tells herself she isn’t crazy, but sane people don’t see ghosts. As her psychic abilities manifest, Crystal discovers there’s a much bigger story behind her mother’s Halloween-themed shop than she ever realized. Now blessed with the ability to see into the future, witness the past, and speak with the dead, Crystal must use these tools to save those who have come to her for help.

  But that’s not an easy task between learning how to use her abilities, trying to hide them, and uncovering the secrets her loved ones have been keeping from her. Add blackmail to the list of things Crystal never thought would happen to her, and you basically have her sophomore year covered. Will she learn to control her abilities in time, or will the whole school learn of her secret before she’s ready to reveal it?

  Get it for Free!

  More from Alicia

  Kai Watson is only sixteen, but she’s never had a real dream in her life. Each night, her spirit leaves her body and travels to a new location. After witnessing the brutal murder of upperclassman Darla Baxter while astral traveling, Kai is determined to stay out of it. She never saw the murderer’s face, and who would believe her anyway?

  When her travels are replaced with nightmares, Kai must take the mystery into her own hands to find closure. On her search for answers, she continues to bump into Darla’s brother, Collin. If they can’t catch the killer, Kai may never learn to open her heart to him, and she may lose her gift forever.

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  The Dying of the Light

  Monica Corwin

  1

  New York City, Year 2141

  Note to self, don’t joke with the reaper.

  I schooled my face into a more respectable stoic expression as the reaper standing before me didn’t even crack a smile. If he didn’t appear menacing before, standing in the middle of the dark church doorway, tattooed skull cut, and black-as-midnight eyes, he did now with a look that questioned my intelligence. Not a great start to a new partnership.

  I cleared my throat and rubbed my clammy hands down my faded jeans to avoid the tension. Something I excelled at, being one of the few female investigator in the Souls Crimes Division.

  “Guess we should just go,” I offered, turning toward the East and the pooling darkness there. I didn’t know if I should wait for him to follow, or walk beside him. The Investigator’s Guide to Reapers hadn’t been very clear on protocol, but it had a lot to say on the nature of reapers. He stepped up beside me but I refused to look at him as we took off down the sidewalk for our patrol.

  As the newest member of the Church Investigative Unit, I got put on beats. What Harley had done to get stuck with me, I was curious but refrained from asking. I didn’t want to push his opinion of me too fast. Although, perhaps they delegated partners and cases in the Reaper unit differently.

  “Can you speak?” I asked, risking a glance up. He gave me the same look as before, it said, ‘why me?’ and then tapped my temple with his fo
refinger. It took everything in me not to flinch away while he stared me down. “I don’t understand.”

  I avoided his gaze and watched my shoe laces tap against the sides of my sneakers. His meaning came to me like a brick to the forehead. “You can speak mentally?”

  He nodded and I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk as if it might help me to propel a thought at him if I were immobile. The sound of a snort made me look up, and then jerk back. The man’s smile was a stark contrast to his menacing exterior. His eyes crinkled at the corners, lightening the darkness in his gaze. Two big dimples bisected his cheeks in long lines. I couldn’t keep myself from smiling back.

  He tapped my temple again and a pain seared behind my eyes. Then a buzz replaced the pain and I grasped at it like a lifeline.

  “Charity?” His voice hit my mind deep and dark.

  “Oh, I can hear you,” I said, out loud.

  He nodded once, the smile replaced by the most neutral facial expression I could imagine. Purposefully neutral, almost aggravated neutral. If I’d known him better, I would have called him out on it. Instead, I changed the subject.

  “Um, so, you’re Harley, I’m Charity, but you can call me Char.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, Char.”

  We continued down the walk, darkness gathering closer, as the sun dipped below the horizon. The shadows didn’t seem to touch him. He parted them as if he were one of them. I tried not to stare but the smile set me back and the Aramaic crowning his head simply made me want to read it. If I hadn’t joined the Church I would have been destined for the archives, or so my Gran had told me. Well, that—and Aramaic wasn’t an easy language to learn. Latin was the way to my heart.

  The surprise of Gran suddenly in my thoughts knifed me in the chest. I rubbed my sternum as if it might ease the ache there.

  His voice jolted me further from my thoughts. “I’m sorry.”

  A passage from the reaper manual drifted back to me. Once allowed inside an investigator’s mind, Reapers can hear his or her thoughts. This can never be reversed. Reapers have their own code of ethics for mind reading.

  Mortification took over for epiphany. “Probably not nice to drop in my thoughts like that.”

  He sighed loud and exaggeratedly. “You’re practically throwing them at my head.”

  I swallowed. There was something about that in the manual too. “Sorry, I’ll try to keep my thoughts under control when we’re together.”

  “I hear meditation helps.”

  I looped my blonde hair behind my ears, trying to focus on blocking my mind now that he had access. I’d hate for him to be privy to…I blocked that mental rabbit hole quick.

  “That won’t work.”

  I let out a sigh. “You could tell me what would work and make this go a lot faster.”

  His eyes crinkled at the corners, juxtaposing his sinister disposition with a hapless mirth. I swallowed the lump in my throat and gave him a tight smile. Did I laugh or was his joke at my expense, another fact I didn’t know soon to come to light?

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  My heart took up a strangled rhythm as I had no idea if I should laugh conspiratorially or focus on something else.

  A loud crack split the gathering dark and all traces of mirth cleared from his face in an instant.

  “Did you hear that?” he asked.

  I glanced in the direction it came from. “Ye—” The sound echoed loud down the empty streets once more, bouncing off ruins and brick.

  His voice blasted through my head once more. “It sounded like a gunshot.”

  I understood the mechanics of his sentence but not all the words. “What’s a gunshot?”

  He didn’t answer and a nervous skitter twitched its way down my spine. I curled my hand around the top of my church-issue knife tucked against the outside of my upper thigh, the worn grip washing me in the familiar.

  Harley glanced my way and rested his gaze on my hand.

  Once more the crack sounded but this time Harley didn’t stand waiting. He took off at a run, up the splintered concrete toward the noise. It took me a full two seconds to give chase. Holy Hell, he’s fast.

  His boots echoed through the alleyway, the only source of direction allowing me to follow.

  All noise cut abruptly and I halted with a gasp of air, trying to pinpoint Harley’s location. Nothing. Not the distant sound of rummaging beggars, nor the scurry of mice. Complete silence.

  With a shake of my head I stood, my lungs still burning from the flat-out sprint. I really only had two choices, so I took a big breath and ran down the alleyway that felt right.

  I would, of course, lose my reaper on my very first patrol with him. Part of me wondered if this was some sort of hazing ritual, make the new investigator traipse around the back alleys of the city all night.

  Anger started a slow burn up my chest and I continued running, sweat starting to bead at the back of my neck. I popped out of the alley in the street, took a turn to check one direction. The flash of headlights was all the warning I got before darkness swallowed me whole.

  A buzz in my head brought me out of unconsciousness. The cold pavement had pushed my jacket up, my shirt along with it, and a chill seeped into my bones. I registered the slight shiver washing through me in waves, and reached for my dagger handle. It sat where it always did. The comforting bite of its grip in my palm helped give me courage and I opened my eyes. But the darkness didn’t clear, the starry night sky didn’t spread out before me. Nothing but an empty void. My heartbeat, however, became a heavy thump in my ears. The tightening of my chest indicated I’d soon be in full-on panic attack mode. And yet it was as if I stood outside of myself, noting the actions as an impartial bystander. Shock.

  Get yourself together, Char. You’re an investigator now. My half-pep-talk, half-chastisement let me shake it off and I forced myself to sit up. The world spun but it was an empty sensation without visual cues to experience it.

  Harley’s voice broke through the dark. “I’d take it slow if I were you.”

  The ebbing anger that fizzled to make way for panic suddenly flared to life. If I hadn’t been chasing the bastard, if he had waited, or simply told me his plan, maybe I wouldn’t be sitting on damp concrete with pavement burn on my back.

  “Glad you could join me,” I grumbled, hand still clasped around my knife.

  “I was chasing that car,” he said.

  “Couldn’t you have reapered him or something, or kept him from hitting me?”

  A dead silence followed the statement.

  “You know I can’t see your arbitrary facial expressions right?” I slowly got to my feet with a wobble. “In fact, I can’t see anything at all.”

  Harley pushed my jacket sleeve up. “Let me see your arm.”

  I jerked back and clasped my hand across the vambrace fastened on my right forearm. My soul marks heated the leather under my palm as I tucked it close.

  “I may be naïve, but everyone knows not to let a reaper see your marks.”

  A grunt of disgust came from his general direction. “You investigators are all the same. Thinking the big bad reapers care about your measly souls, as if they will do anything to change our fate?” He said the word investigator like it was rhetorical.

  The vehemence accompanying his voice crept into my mind. I always put my foot into my mouth at the most inopportune times.

  He spoke again, calmer now. “Obviously you can’t look at it. I can tell you that you died. You lost a soul, and obviously your vision, so the damage is already done.”

  I was proud my voice didn’t shake as I asked, “how do you know?”

  “I can see it. A hole in your aura. Pinks, purples, blues, sparking around you. I can see a dark empty space there. It’s gone.”

  I swallowed the knot in my throat, took a gust of air in my lungs, and then clicked open the clasps to release the leather concealing the marks. I knew every whirl of color, every fleck of the pinks and purples swirling together
up my right forearm. My soul mark had only finally solidified and now I’d already ruined it. His fingers grasped my arm gently, trailing chilled fingers along the edges.

  I shivered from the contact like the brush of fabric along a wound. The mark gaped open and weeping.

  “Brace yourself.”

  It was all the warning he gave me before his whole hand curled around my arm, covering the mark. My world shifted for the second time that night, but this time he caught me in an iron grip around the back of my waist. I drifted, clinging to consciousness by the scent of spice rising from his coat.

  Images poured into my head. No—memories, but they weren’t mine. They were his. An arm-sized piece of iron with a crack and a flash at the end. The image shifted to me, standing at the church altar, head bowed in prayer with a streak of sunlight glinting off my hair. The memory felt almost...tender. And yet, I hadn’t met Harley before tonight.

  Before I could ask he pushed me back, and without an anchor, I floundered, landing flat on my butt.

  His anger punched the words into my mind with more force than was really necessary. “That wasn’t...” The shuffling of his boots scratched the surface of the pavement mere inches from me. “You weren’t.”

  He took a long draw of air, and halted. “That wasn’t for you to see.”

  I brushed my hands down my knees and slung them across the tops. “I didn’t do it on purpose. It sort of happened. So ... you going to explain yourself?”

  “No.”

  There was a finality in his tone I recognized in the older clergy members. He wouldn’t budge and I’d spend the evening wondering when he saw me that way, and why.

  “No. That is my memory. I won’t explain it, justify it, or discuss it with you.”

  My blood started to heat and anger coursed through me unchecked. I surged to my feet and toward him, bumping into his solid chest. I couldn’t see him but it didn’t mean my point wouldn’t be made. “If you would get the hell out of my head you wouldn’t be angry right now, and neither would I.”