On Pins and Needles: Sierra Fox, Book 3 (20 page)

“Strange thing about them is that I can’t find any actual records. There are names and ages, but no real records. Almost as if they never existed…”

“Creepy,” I whispered. “None of this makes any sense.” And since Willow claimed her father was fine until she started developing these necromantic powers, what would possess him to change his tune? Was it to continue what his grandmother began so many years ago? And why the hell had he encouraged Willow to find me? The only real reason I could think of was the constant bane of my existence—my so-called power.

This was all starting to give me a headache.

“It won’t make sense until we have all the pieces. There are still too many things up in the air—pieces of the puzzle that don’t fit anywhere,” Papan said, placing a hand on my thigh. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out.”
 

I signaled, drove up the driveway of my house and parked the car. I turned to face Papan. “Thanks for looking him up,” I said.

“I’m here to help you with anything I can.” Papan’s eyes were bright, staring into mine. I loved how they changed shades to match his mood. “Now that things are different between us, I don’t want you to think I just want to enjoy you in the bedroom—though we both know how much I enjoy
that.
” He winked. “The best thing about what we have is that it’s built on a strong friendship and mutual respect.” He took my hand in both of his. “I would’ve risked my life for you before any of this.”

“And you did.” I shivered at the thought of him saving me from Mace in the cemetery. “You know I would do the same for you—now and then.”

Papan raised my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles. “I’m going to help you sort this out, as well as figure out the best way to keep Willow safe.”

“I think the best way to do that right now is to keep her here, under Oren’s protective watch and magical shields, away from prying eyes—”

The front door opened and Willow ran out, dashing down the steps with Oren hot on her heels. “Willow, wait!” he shouted, trying to catch up.

“What the hell?” I said.

“What were you saying?” Papan asked as we both rushed out of the car. “Whoa! Where are you running to?” He stepped in front of Willow, forcing her to stop before she could race past him.

“I need to go!”

“Why and
where
do you need to go?” I asked, coming around to stand in front of her as well. She looked like she had been crying.

“I need to make sure my friends are all right.”

Oren stood behind her. “She saw a news update, featuring one of her friends.”

“Oh.” I looked at her, surprised at how quickly the girl’s death had been reported. I hadn’t noticed any news vans this time. Besides, did this mean she now remembered what happened earlier? “I’m so sorry about Ronnie.”

Willow’s eyes were wet again. “She’s not who I’m talking about.”

“Who are you talking about, then?”

“My friend Rima,” she blurted, and the tears rolled down her cheeks.

“I don’t think we should be out here for too long,” Papan whispered. “We don’t know who could be watching or listening.”

“I agree with Jason.” Oren made a grab for her arm but she yanked it aside before he could.

It took me a while, but I finally digested what she’d said. “Rima McNamara was your friend?”

“Yes.” Willow’s tears slid down her face. “She wasn’t one of my best friends, but we hung out sometimes.”
 

At least that explained why Rima wasn’t attached to her—only the people she held dearest returned.
 

“And now she’s dead, just like Jamie and Ronnie. Why do I have to lose everyone?” Willow asked desperately.

“So you remember what happened to Ronnie?” I peered over her head to glance at Oren.
 

“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I’m sorry—”

“Why is this happening to me?” she cried.

I sighed. It was time to catch her up with the events of the last few days. I was determined to keep her in the loop, maybe then she wouldn’t storm off or sneak out when we weren’t watching. With everything we knew and suspected I didn’t want her to become an easy target.
 

“Willow, listen, do you remember how I had to duck out yesterday?”

She nodded.

“It was because the constable who found you needed my help.” I sucked in a deep breath before continuing. “He wanted me to see a girl who was killed outside a club, and her name was Rima.”

“What? You saw her?”

I nodded. “She was killed. We think by the same person who killed Ronnie.”

Her eyes were rimmed red but the tears had dried. “I can’t believe they’re gone…”

I closed the distance between us and placed an arm around her shoulders. When she didn’t push me away or make an attempt to avoid me, I relaxed. “That’s why it’s so important that you stay safely inside the house. If whoever’s hurting your friends finds out where you are, they’ll come for you too.”

“It’s got to be that bitch,” she hissed. “She must be tracking my friends because she wants to find me. I’ll kill her the next time I see her, then maybe I’ll raise her spirit and toy with her the way she wanted to do with me.”

“Have you remembered her name?” Papan asked.

Willow looked at him and shook her head. “Sorry, I still can’t remember.”

I had an idea. “Willow, how much did Jamie know about all of this?”

“I told him everything, why?”

“What are you thinking, Sierra?” Oren asked, concerned.

I didn’t know if this would work but it was worth a shot. “If Willow can’t remember the details it might be because she was forced to forget, or maybe the shock of everything that’s happened makes her forget. But Jamie might have taken everything to the grave. If I can get in touch with him, we might be able to get the name we need.”

“How’re you going to do that?” Willow whispered.

“I’m a spook catcher, remember?” I sounded a lot more confident than I felt, because this was a long shot. I had no idea if this would work but if it didn’t, I’d have no choice but to encourage Willow to tap into her own power.

Chapter Eight

I’m not sure if this is going to work, but I have to try.

“Are you ready?” I asked Willow for the tenth time. We were seated in the middle of the kitchen with our chairs facing each other.

She nodded, loosening several strands from her ponytail. “Are
you
sure this is going to work?”

The truth was I had no idea. I might have been dealing with spooks for most of my life but they usually dragged me into their zone as soon as I was anywhere near them. Poltergeists had never been any different. Yet with Willow I was dealing with something I’d never experienced before. If I couldn’t be dragged into their zone, I’d have to force myself inside and proximity seemed to be my best option.

I took a deep breath, let it out slowly and shrugged. “It’s the only thing I can think of that’ll help me speak with them.”

Willow licked her lips and held out her hands. “Okay, let’s do it.”

I looked up and met Papan’s eyes. He didn’t look happy, more concerned than anything, but like me he knew we needed more clues or we were never going to figure this out. Or be prepared when the attack came to our doorstep—because I had no doubt it would. I was now pretty sure that someone had killed two girls to get to Willow, and they wouldn’t stop there.

“Sierra knows what she’s doing,” Oren called from across the kitchen.

I dipped my head in appreciation before turning to look at the other person in the room. Gareth was sitting at the table, next to Papan. He had his arms crossed and was staring right at me. This happened to be the first time I’d seen him without his uniform. He was wearing jeans and a red T-shirt. He looked intrigued and a little nervous but I wanted him to experience this firsthand.
 

The way these poltergeists had worked so far, we might
all
end up seeing everything. I hoped we would.

“Did you make sure there aren’t any knives on the counter?” I asked no one in particular.

“Anything that could be tossed around the room has been put away in one of the cupboards,” Oren answered.

Not that it would make much of a difference. Still, having clutter hidden away made it a little harder for the teens to go crazy with their telekinesis.

I took both of Willow’s clammy hands in mine and said, “Tell me about your father.”

Her blue eyes already seemed a little too bright. “When I was a kid, Dad used to take me to the park so I could fly my kite. It was something we did together, and I loved it,” she said with a small smile curving her lips. “But we haven’t done anything fun for a long time. Not since all he cares about is this stupid thing I can do. After he met that selfish bitch, he got worse. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t love him, but he refuses to listen when I tell him.”

The temperature in the kitchen was already dropping, and I was pleasantly surprised at how well Willow was handling this. Instead of throwing us all into the thick of her rage, she was easing us in and I hoped it enabled me to make contact with Jamie.

“That makes you angry, doesn’t it?” I asked, poking at the raw wound. I knew how much it hurt to be constantly furious and annoyed with your father. “Why does he make you so angry?”

Willow’s eyes widened and the shiny slant looked freaky, as if they were being lit from the inside out. More long strands from her hair escaped, until the elastic fell to the floor and all of her hair was free to sway around her face like Medusa’s snakes.
 

“He makes me so mad. I wish he would see me as a person, not as an object.” Tears shimmered in her eyes. “We were close once. I miss him so much.”

I tightened my hands around hers, the warmth of her skin morphing into something closer to the cool feel of Oren’s. The lights exploded around her, engulfing the kitchen so brightly I had to close my eyes for a moment. When I snapped them open, tears slid down my face but the sharpness had dimmed considerably and I could look right into the poltergeists circling her.

“Will, can you hear me?” the boy was saying, his voice echoing like a broken speaker.

The dog barked and it sounded much the same.

“What’s happened to me?” Ronnie swished around both of them.

From what I could tell, although Willow had gathered three spirits they each seemed to exist separately and couldn’t interact. The fact the trio moved so fluidly around each other without touching or acknowledging one another was enough to confirm my assumption.

I exhaled and my misty breath turned into colorful particles that vanished into the lightshow around me.

“Willow,” I whispered, staring at her. We were still sitting directly across from each other and our knees were almost touching but her body had taken on the ghostly, faded look people got when they didn’t cross over with me. I’d been hoping she would since I was with her, but she wasn’t a spook catcher—my half-sister was something else altogether. Something I’d never encountered before, and being this close together wouldn’t change the reality.

I glanced to my side and found Papan, Oren and Gareth looked the same. Every one of them was focused on us, but there was no way I could interact with them now that I’d entered the poltergeists’ zone.

“Willow,” I repeated.

“Who said that?” Jamie and Ronnie asked in unison, pausing in mid-motion right in front of me.

“I did,” I said. “My name is Sierra Fox.”

“You’re her sister,” Jamie said, as Ronnie added, “She found you!”

This wasn’t going to work if they spoke to me at the same time or even echoed each other. I had to let them know what was going on. “Yes, that’s me, but I can only talk to you one at a time.”

Frowns darkened their faces simultaneously and their lights flashed quicker around their wispy bodies. The dog continued to yap away and circle Willow’s torso.

“Who else is here?” Jamie asked, looking around.

The dog barked louder.

“Ronnie,” I told him.

“Oh, no, this is going to kill Will. Tell Ronnie I’m sorry.”

“Who are you talking to?”

“To Jamie,” I said to Ronnie. “And he says he’s sorry.”

“Tell him I’m sorry too.”

I relayed the message but added, “Listen, guys, I can’t spend my time being your medium. I need to get some answers—things that Willow doesn’t know or can’t remember. Okay?”

They both nodded.

“I’ll start with you, Jamie.” Where was the best place to kick off the questions? I decided to go with what seemed most relevant. “How did you die?”

“Will and I were in my car. We were finally going to get away from that horrible house,” he said with a shake of his head. “Something happened to her house after that witch moved in.”

“The woman involved with her father is a witch?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just what I called her.”

“Okay, tell me what happened.”
 

“I’m not sure, but her house became so cold and empty, and her father changed too. Mr. Moss and I got along for years. Will and I became friends when I moved in a few doors down—we were both nine. Then her mother died and I tried to help as much as I could, but in the process fell for her. We’d been going steady for two years before I died.” He looked up and met my eyes. “I know it was her. She killed me.”