Wraith: Shadow Bound Part 1

Shadow Bound (Wraith 2).

Angel Lawson.

THE BRUSH ON the trails grew thicker this time of year. And greener. Vines of kudzu and poison ivy covered trees and rocks, anything upon which the fast-growing weeds could manage to get a strangle hold. I wiped the sweat off my face with my s.h.i.+rt.

My dad and I parted back where the trail split. Once I was far enough away, I ducked into the woods, going to the place that I felt closest to Evan. It was silly and even a bit emo. This was never our place. But I felt him here last, so every Sunday morning I slipped into the trees to the damp shade of The Ruins.

A p.r.i.c.kly branch sc.r.a.ped across my calf. "Ouch," I said, stopping to check my leg. The scratch left a raised, inflamed line but wasn't too bad so I continued walking since the trail became too narrow to navigate at a run.

After the fire, I found renewed interest in running. Normally I would spend Sunday mornings convincing my dad bagels and coffee were the better way for us to bond. We couldn't really talk while running anyway. But once I healed physically from the smoke inhalation, I pushed him to let me run with him again. I needed the release. Running exhausted me and I slept better, something sort of elusive lately.

In the summer, everything back here grew wild and many of the old buildings were obscured by growth. The trails themselves were almost invisible, but I knew where I was going, and soon enough I found myself at the top of the small hill, looking down at the graffiti-covered brick.

I pulled out my ear buds, shut off my iPod and listened. The Ruins were quiet other than the sounds of the woods. Birds and insects. No tell-tale clink of a spray paint can or chemical smell wafting through the air. I was alone.

I made a quick pa.s.s through, looking for any recent artwork. Was I spying on Connor? Maybe. Not in a creepy-girlfriend-stalker kind of way but, I knew he came down here alone or with his friends and I wanted to see if there was anything new. I pa.s.sed by the long wall of a decayed building and ran my fingers over the familiar tag. He preferred metallics now. I smiled at the s.h.i.+ny silver design that I had watched him perfect on his sketchpad at home. Maneuvering around the littered paint cans, I peeked into what was once a functioning doorway. The boys came in here as well. No surface was left untouched.

"Ah!" I jumped just as I crossed the threshold. An enormous black bird eyed me from inside the doorway. A raven or something. Did we have ravens here? A crow? The huge bird had beady gray eyes. "Stupid bird."

The raven didn't move, other than to tilt its head in my direction. "What?" I said, trying to catch my breath. Between the running and the bird scaring me, I wished I had a hit from my inhaler. Unfazed by my alarm, the bird only stared and twitched the black, sleek feathers at its side.

"Shoo," I said, flinging a hand out, hoping it would fly off. The bird stood its ground, opening and closing its beak soundlessly. I took the hint and stepped backwards, out of the doorway. I didn't go far. Moving outside the old arched, brick doorway, I slammed into something hard and jumped.

"Hey," I heard as I spun around. My heart pounded faster in my chest. Connor stood over me, tall and strong, and I slumped a little in relief.

"OhmyG.o.dyouscaredme!"

Connor's arms reached around my waist and held me up a little. "You okay?"

I pushed on his chest, trying to work my sweaty body away from his, but he held tight. "I'm fine. There was just this big, creepy bird in there." I jerked my thumb behind me.

He craned his neck around my head. "It's gone."

I turned and peered around the corner. "Good," I said, s.h.i.+vering despite the heat. "It was ma.s.sive and freaking me out a little."

My boyfriend laughed and tightened his arms around me. "I think you'll be okay."

"Shut it. Birds weird me out."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really? You can deal with ghosts and murderers but not a bird?"

I wiggled loose, but wove my fingers through his and pulled him away from the building while taking one last look over my shoulder. We sat on a row of cement steps.

"Yes, really. They look at you like they can see inside your head. Plus, they can fly. And they could land on your head or face or p.o.o.p or something."

Connor made a face, the one where he thinks I may be crazy, but knows better than to say it out loud. "I don't know, I think they're kind of cool. Plus, ravens have cool legends and stuff about them."

"What are you doing back here? Besides scaring me?" I asked in an attempt to change the subject.

He looked down at the ground and I saw his olive green paint bag. "I came to paint."

"Alone?"

Connor reached up and ran his hands through his hair. It had officially grown s.h.a.ggy after months of avoiding a barber. Truthfully, I liked it better than his former buzz cut. It suited him. Not long, but also not super-short. Enough to wind my fingers through. "Nah, the guys will be here soon. I just hoped to catch you first."

"Stalking me?" I laughed, punching him lightly in the stomach.

"Whatever, Jane. You and your dad are, like, the two biggest creatures of habit ever. How's the asthma?"

I reached into my pocket and pulled out an inhaler, shaking it. "Fine, with my meds." Before the fire, I had some minor asthma. Since the smoke damage, running was impossible without help.

"Speaking of... I should probably head back. He doesn't know about your little hobby and I'm not sure you want to bring out the former lawyer in him."

Connor gasped. "Your dad loves me."

"As much as any father loves their daughter's boyfriend, yes. But knowing you're a vandal? Let's keep that to ourselves, okay?" I teased, and from the look on his face, he knew it. The tiny smile on his lips gave it away. I stood to leave, but felt fingers in the waistband of my pants tugging me backwards. "Hey," I laughed, swatting the hands that moved around my hips.

Connor leaned over and kissed me, which was fine by me, even though I was sweaty and gross. I knew he didn't care. He'd seen me worse like I'd seen him.

"Hey, what's this?" I asked, brus.h.i.+ng my thumbs on the soft, dark skin under his eyes. We both had our sleeping problems. Running helped with mine and medication helped his. It had been months since he had seen any ghosts since Evan and Ellen but we both knew they wouldn't hold off forever. I wish I'd been so lucky. "No sleep?"

His eyes fluttered closed and he rested his head on my shoulder. "Not so well."

"What's going on?"

"Nothing. It's no big. I stayed up too late playing Wii with Matt."

I raised an eyebrow. No wonder.

"Oh, well then, I don't feel so sorry for you." Not sorry, but worried all the same. "I gotta go."

He nodded and released me. "I'll call you. Later."

I winced. The words a tiny slap. He noticed and grimaced back. Both of our eyes s.h.i.+fted upwards to the highest point in the ruins.

"I'll call you," he repeated, dropping the trigger word.

"Bye," I said and ran up the trail before disappearing into the woods.

On the ride home from the bagel shop, we saw her. Ms. Frances, our elderly neighbor, walking down the sidewalk from church. Like every Sunday afternoon. Dad even offered her a ride once or twice, but she claimed to enjoy the walk after sitting at the service so long. This time she wasn't alone. A young girl tagged beside her, skipping along in a dress covered with flowers.

"I didn't know Ms. Frances had a granddaughter," I commented as we drove closer.

"Me neither," Dad said, keeping his eyes forward.

"She's cute."

"Oh really? When did you see her?"

I stared at him and then back at the girl who was on the sidewalk. We drove past and Dad honked the horn gently. We both waved. Ms. Frances smiled, like always, but the girl just stopped and stared. Her dark eyes boring into my own.

"At her house in the yard," I lied. "I don't know if it was her granddaughter or not. I just a.s.sumed."

Dad pulled the car into our driveway and around to the back of the house. "I'll be inside in a minute." I searched for a plausible lie. "I'm going to stretch first. My quads are tight."

He disappeared into the house and I crept down the driveway until the street was in view. I had to wait a couple minutes, but Ms. Frances finally appeared, slowly making her way up the street and then her front path.

I looked for the girl, but Ms. Frances was alone. I stood and walked closer to the street to see if she had fallen behind. She had not.

"Afternoon dear," Ms. Frances said, pa.s.sing me on her way up the steps to her porch.

"Good afternoon," I replied before scurrying back to the house. I'd never seen a ghost that wasn't looking for me before. It made me wonder. Was she here for me or something else? Either way, I figured, time would tell.

"Clara, remember to clean your brush before you dip it into a new color of paint."

Ava's words were kind, but her tone sounded exasperated. She had already told the little girl these same directions a dozen times today. I looked over at the art table and watched the piggy bank she worked on change from pink to a murky brown.

I walked over and nudged Ava out of the way and leaned over the table. "Here, let me see," I said, taking the brush out of her hand. Six and adorable, Clara couldn't get a handle on not making a huge mess out of her projects. "Dip your brush in the water, swirl it around and wipe it on the table cloth before putting it back in the paint." I showed her. "See? Pink!"

Clara ignored me and dipped her pink brush into the yellow and then dragged it over to the green. I sighed and rolled my eyes at Ava, who covered her mouth, laughing.

"Hush," I whispered, moving to stand next to her by the counter. We watched the group of kids for a while, playing in different centers around the art studio. Without warning, Ava wrapped her arms around my shoulders.

"Did I ever tell you how much I love you for getting me this job?" She nestled her head on my shoulder.

"Yes," I laughed, pulling the back of her hair. "Every day. Twice a day."

"It was this or work at my dad's office. Which would have been horrible. And lonely. And horrible."

"We're both lucky my mom found us these jobs. I didn't really want to spend the summer at their store either." Since she owned the gallery, my mother was a member of the business a.s.sociation and she found out Pastels Art Studio was hiring teachers for their summer camps. Ava and I pounced on the opportunity.

"You going out with Christian tonight?" I asked, knowing the answer already. Since spring they've been inseparable. She even wore a woven leather strap around her wrist at all times a gift from Christian. It's not an engagement ring or anything, but for them it meant they were serious.

"You two need to share," she said, walking over and separating two kids fighting over the same rolling pin at the Play-Doh table. "Yeah," she said over her shoulder. "I think so. What are you guys doing?"

"Not sure. I was hoping you could give me a ride over to Connor's house after work. Please?" I asked nicely.

"Sure. Blah, summer school has to totally suck."

"It does. For him and me both. He's never around and he has all this cla.s.s work, and his mom is pretty strict about curfew and stuff."

"But at least he can graduate on time, right? If he pa.s.ses everything?"

I nodded. That was the plan. Connor had to pa.s.s his summer school cla.s.ses and keep all his grades up next year and he would graduate with the rest of us. A year behind, but still graduating. His time at the hospital dealing with his own demons really screwed up his track.

"Yep, this way he starts off the new year on target," I said, organizing the paint brushes in their cups. It was almost time to go. "Clara, finish up. I need to take that outside to dry with the rest of the projects."

Clara made one last swipe with her paint brush, all traces of the original pink gone, and she hopped off her seat and pulled at her smock. Ava unb.u.t.toned it and sent her in the other room. "I'm going to get them to clean up and read a story, okay?" she said.

"Good. I'll take these out on the porch." I picked up a tray of piggy banks and walked to the front door. The art studio was in a converted house on the edge of the business district. It had a wide front porch that we used to let projects dry, or for when we worked with toxic materials. I balanced the tray with one hand and pulled the door shut behind me. I breathed in the hot, muggy air. The banks would dry faster if there was a bit of a breeze, but nothing had to go home today. The kids were here for the entire week.

I bent over, placing the tray on the table. When I stood, I let out a loud gasp and threw my hands up. "Holy mother..." I mumbled, trying to gain my composure. "Don't do that! People really need to stop scaring me."

"Sorry?" the woman said. She was older than me, but not much. She had dark hair and brown eyes. I noticed she was a little thick around the waist. The edges of her body weren't quite solid. The slight, cool breeze I had just wished for wafted by. She was definitely dead.

"What do you want?" I asked, cutting to the heart of the matter. I no longer had time for formalities. She wanted something no, needed something, and apparently, I had to help her. It's how it worked.

"My baby. She's gone."

"Your baby?"

She nodded and looked even younger now. Too young for a baby. "When did you last see her?"

Her hands spread across her belly, flattening out her blue s.h.i.+rt. She looked down. "She was here. Warm and safe."

"Okay, you lost your baby," I said. I rubbed my hand over my forehead. I knew what she was saying wasn't true. Her baby wasn't lost. It was the other way around. This girl's baby had lost her mother. "Do you want me to find her?"

"I think so."

I sighed. I didn't want to. I wanted to close my eyes and make her disappear, but the supernatural world didn't work that way. It sure as h.e.l.l didn't care what I wanted or what I needed. The faster I handled it, the faster it went away.

"What's her name?" I asked.

She shook her head. Her forehead knitted in confusion. I sighed. "Okay, what's your name?"

"Raquel." She told me her first and last name, but nothing more. She was one of those. The ones that haven't got a clue about how they got here or where they are going next.

"All right, Raquel, I'll find her, okay? But, here's the deal. No hanging around me. Or showing up at my house or here. I'll let you know when I have information for you."

She nodded slowly. I wondered if her death had caused some brain injury. Most likely she was just scared.

"Go." I turned back to the door. When I looked back, she was gone.

"THANKS FOR THE ride." Ava parked her car at the curb outside Connor's house. Although I had access to my parent's car, Ava had her own and we had been carpooling to work.

"Bye," she said. I slammed the door of the SUV and waved as she drove off. I walked up the brick-lined driveway and surveyed Connor's house. Historic and beautiful. Well landscaped. His mother obviously spent a lot of time making it perfect. She had a framed magazine cover hanging in the living room from an article about their home.

Art camp released for the day at 3 p.m. I liked that it didn't suck away my whole day, although by the time I was free, it was too hot to do much of anything. Huge, old trees surrounded Connor's house providing shade and, when I reached the top of his driveway, that's where I found him, bent over his ancient car, under the wide limbs of a huge oak tree. Regardless of the shade, the back of Connor's gray T-s.h.i.+rt was drenched in sweat.