Grave Possession (Wraith 3) (2 page)

I lived with the ghost thing on my own for a long time, mostly in isolation, until I met up with another person who saw ghosts. Connor didn’t have the body snatching thing, but the ghosts magnified his depression and anxiety. He was a hot mess and I was a walking disaster so, naturally, we fell in love. Until everything imploded. He ended up in a wilderness treatment program halfway across the country. It was that or jail, so in the grand scheme of things he took the better deal. Unfortunately for our relationship, his out of control behavior was the salt in our already oozing wounds. I broke up with him to protect myself as much as him.

No one knew Connor would be at the same college as me except Ava. She found out by accident when she saw his mother at the grocery store. We’d had zero communication since he’d left. Well, I’d written him but he never replied. I guess I deserved it, right?

Connor was more than my first love. He also held a link of understanding between me and the afterworld. He and I had little choice in the long run but to be allies. I knew better than to run away from him forever. It was useless. When I heard he was coming to school, I decided to roll with it. The residential program had provided the physical distance we needed, but our lack of communication implied an emotional boundary had been set as well.

Good. Emotions made me weak. It’s what allowed Charlotte to get that close in the first place. It wouldn’t happen again.

I’d walked away from the fight with Charlotte with more than emotional scars. Damage I hadn’t quite figured out yet. Something happened to me when Charlotte entered my body. I don’t feel the same. There’s a chill in my bones that I can’t shake. All I’d wanted over the last year was to feel better. A couple of things worked. I’d been testing my limits with the ghosts for months now. My salve came from one of those experiments. But I had to be careful. Really careful. I’d learned a long time ago that the things that made me feel better – no, not better – complete, came with a price. But this time around I knew how to hide it. Connor taught me that.

Enter Louis. The boy who had once been Connor’s friend. The boy who went to school with Charlotte, the ghost who tried to kill me. The boy who liked me, maybe loved me, even though he didn’t know the secrets I carried.

“It’s going to be weird not seeing you all the time,” he told me. Louis came over after dinner to say goodbye. Despite his shaggy hair and baggy pants, my parents approved of our relationship, if only as an alternative to Connor.

The sky had darkened and the cricket chirps had grown to a dull roar by the time we sat together on the back porch. I traced his hand with my finger. “Once your classes start, you’ll be busy enough. Plus, your band is doing pretty well, right?”

He smiled. “We were, but now that half our fan base is going away to school we’ll have to try to build up again.”

“Yeah,” I said. “But now you’ll have college groupies to follow you around. Not just me and the girls.” Christian, Ava’s boyfriend, joined Louis’ band last fall and we started going to their shows. Louis asked me to his homecoming date and I asked him to my prom. He was easy. And fun. The polar opposite of the last guy I dated.

“I’m not really interested in other girls.”

I laughed, trying to keep it lighthearted. “I don’t know. I hear college girls put out.”

He fixed me with his dark eyes, his face serious. “Maybe so, but I’m kind of okay with how things are with my current groupie.”

He leaned into me and gave me a kiss. Smooth and soft. Never tinged with mania and pain. How long would it take before I stopped comparing kisses? Was this something girls do forever? I should ask Ava.

“I just realized something,” he said, pulling away.

“What?”

“If college girls put out, and you’re almost a college girl, what does that mean?” he smiled devilishly.

“I guess we’ll find out over fall break, right?”

He sat up and gave himself a hokey fist pump, sending us both into fits of laughter. He settled down and pulled my legs into his lap. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” I said, truthfully, before kissing him again. “But I’m excited, you know?”

“You’ll be great. Just promise me, if you meet some dark, brooding artist down there, give me a heads up before you crush me, okay?” He said it like a joke but I knew better. Louis had a heart of gold. He helped me through the last year and I owed him for helping me grow up. A lot. Too bad I wasn’t as good for him as he was for me.

“I will. And you tell me if a groupie shows up half naked in the dressing room.”

He pulled me into a hug, kissing me behind the ear. “Deal.”

*

Louis left and I settled in bed for my last night in the house. The craving ran deep and I wasted no time traveling through the veil to find him. He sat in my corner, like always, legs crossed, hands in his lap. His curly hair knotted and messy. I fought the urge to run to him. Instead, I pulled away from my body and sat up on my bed.

“Don’t forget you portfolio,” he said, gesturing to the stack of papers on my desk.

“I won’t.”

“Or your pencils. You always forget your pencils.”

I laughed. “I won’t. I have a new case and everything.”

“Oh, I got you something,” he said, picking himself up off the floor. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small bottle. “India ink.”

I felt the cool air wafting from his direction and took the bottle from him. “Thanks.”

“It’s special,” he said, taking the bottle back from me. He unscrewed the cap and reached for my hand. I watched as he poured the dark black ink into my palm like a puddle.

“Evan!” I squeezed my fingers shut hoping to keep the ink from slipping through but it was too slick and heavy, wet drops fell to the floor.

“Look,” he said, his dark eyes piercing mine. “It’s special, I told you.”

I looked to the floor and gasped. There was no ink or mess, the floor was covered with tiny
black birds. Each drop of ink produced another one. “What are they doing?” I asked, terrified to move.

“They’re here to help you.”

I frowned at the birds. “But it’s too many. And they’re too small.”

He gave me a rare smile. “That’s why you keep them in here.” He scooped the birds up and shoved them back in the bottle, one by one. The final one he picked up and pressed into my hip. “They’ll protect you.”

“From what?”

He didn’t answer, just lifted his hands and ran one through my hair. I inhaled, taking in everything. His scent, the cool air that surrounded him. The rush of euphoria that coursed between us.

“Better,” I said, feeling the emptiness recede.

He stroked my cheek before walking away. He placed the bottle of ink on top of my desk. “Tomorrow?” he asked.

“I’m leaving in the morning. I’m not sure how this will work at school.”

“We’ll figure it out. Later,” he mouthed and vanished.

He shimmered and the room went dark, my body feeling the harsh blast of cool air and then the sucking pop in my ears. I’m sprawled on my bed, the only sound in the room coming from my breaths. I rolled over and turned off the light and lay satiated in the dark, content for the first time all day.

“Bring that bag to me,” Dad called. I dropped it at his feet with a heavy thud. He loaded it in the truck, tucking it between plastic bins and cardboard boxes.

“Do you have your inhaler?” he asked. I loved my dad but he lived in a whole different realm than I did. A nice one, with no ghosts or family gift. He thought asthma was my biggest concern. The juju bag in my suitcase helped me breathe easier than the inhaler.

“Yes, Dad.” I watched him kick my tires and secure a bungee cord. In that moment, I realized how much I would miss him.

“Don’t run without it,” he reminded me.

“I won’t.”

He reached in his pocket for something. I thought it was another inhaler canister but it was too big. “Pepper spray. Carry it with you. I want you and Ava to be safe.”

“Dad,” I warned.

“Don’t ‘Dad’ me. I have a right to worry.” He continued to busy himself with the truck. They’d given it to me for graduation. I think my dad liked the idea of me driving a two-seater for safety reasons. No back seat for making out and he knew me well enough that I’m not screwing around in the bed of a truck.

Well, not all the way. Things came close a couple of times.

“Jane?” I heard from across the driveway. I turned and found Ms. Frances, my elderly neighbor, on her porch. “Come here for a minute.”

“Be right back,” I told my father. I slipped between the bushes and climbed her peeling, red-painted steps. Ms. Frances waited at the top, with the screened door open. She had on a house dress and slippers, as it was early in the morning.

“You leaving today?”

“Yes, ma’am. In about 10 minutes.”

She nodded. “I had something I wanted to give you.” She turned and shuffled into her house and I followed. I’d been over several times at this point, including the day I told her what really happened to her daughter, Tonya. Who her real murderer had been. Ms. Frances and I had been though a lot together. Tonya had helped save my life and, in return, I’d helped free her from this world. Ms. Frances and I had the kind of bond that was hard to break, despite our difference in age, race and economic background.

“I found this the other day, and thought you might like it.” She walked into her living room and opened a drawer in the corner cabinet that held photographs of Tonya and her brother, Darius. I noted the one of Parker, Darius’ best friend and Tonya’s killer, had been removed. Ms. Frances pulled out a small box. “I know you wear that necklace all the time, the one the boy gave you, but I’d like you to have this.”

I took the box from her. At one point the paper on the box had been silver but now was dull and gray – most of the shine worn off. I opened it and saw a thin silver chain with a small charm on the end. A bird.

“Oh, I can’t,” I said. And I meant it. I’d reconciled a lot about ravens and the power they held between the dead and living over the last year and I wasn’t exactly afraid of them any longer, but wearing one associated with Tonya around my neck? It didn’t feel right.

Ms. Frances grabbed my hand and looked into my eyes with her big brown ones. “You need to keep this. Tonya was a good girl. Keep that good around you.

I knew fighting was futile. So I swallowed it and said, “Yes, ma’am.”

She smiled and patted my back. “Good luck, child. Get the education my children were never blessed enough to have. You’ve got good to do in this world.”

“Thank you, Ms. Frances,” I said, feeling horrible that both her children were lost. One to death and one to the consequences. Darius ran off after Tonya was murdered, feeling responsible for her death. It had taken 30 years for the truth to come out that none of it was Darius’ fault.

I stepped out onto the porch, ready to get on the road.

“Jane,” she said, when I reached the last step. “Be careful. You may not always see them but they see you. And don’t spend too much time on the other side. Life happens here – with the living.”

I turned to ask what she meant, because Ms. Frances had some sight of her own. Before I could ask, she closed her screen door with a creaky snap, leaving me on my own.

*

The first week at SCAD felt like a whirlwind. From the moment our parents left, we’d been through orientation, dorm meetings, first classes, homework and attempts at socializing. Ava and I were assigned to Forsyth House, a converted home in the historic district. The dormitory was old, but so was everything else in Savannah. At least we didn’t get placed in Pulaski house. That building had been everything from a church to a homeless shelter. Not that I could avoiding spirits altogether, but really, I didn’t need to encourage the situation either.

Savannah bustled day and night, tourists and students mingling with locals. The city had an old-world feel, barely surviving the Civil War. The streets were lined with stone and huge parks divided the city. As an only child I’d never spent so much time with people, but now they were everywhere. On the streets, in class, in the dorm. I felt like I couldn’t even go to the bathroom in peace. My cheeks hurt from smiling in an effort to put on a brave face, but I was tired. I needed a break. I needed to see Evan. But so far there hadn’t been time and, at night, I normally passed out from exhaustion.

I’d just opened a new case of colored pencils my aunt Jeannie gave me for graduation when Ava came back from her drawing class. She’d pulled her hair back and had a sweaty gleam from walking from campus.

“Those are nice.” She tossed her portfolio on her bed.

“Jeannie gave them to me.” My aunt Jeannie was a professional artist, specializing in collages and mixed media. We shared a love for creativity. That wasn’t the only thing I’d inherited from her side of the family. She read palms and auras.
Really
read them. Just like how I really saw dead people.

“What’s that?” Ava asked pointing to a slip of paper cradled next to the sleek, black pencils.