Chapter 4
A hushed silence befell the last class of the day as Fay stepped into the room. Someone had seen her threaten Daphne and noticed how the queen bee steered clear of Fay for the rest of the day. It seemed to have produced a kind of awe and fear about her. Was she the dark bully they ought to fear? Their minds must’ve raced with questions. A part of her revelled in their fear and equal curiosity.
Once the class finally drew to a close, the last bell ringing for the day, Fay packed up her stuff and went to her locker. With everything bundled up into her bag, including the homework that was far too easy, she went to the music room where the music students were permitted to practise after school. At least for two hours anyway. It had been the missing girl’s – Amanda Grey – place she hung out after school. Reports said she played the cello.
Soft, orchestral music drifted through the two heavy doors, muted but elegant. Fay lingered, unseen, listening to that sorrowful music. She raised her hand to push the door when an icy hair rushed across her. She stilled for a moment, then closed her eyes to hone in on the source. The school appeared in her mind around her, clear as day, and threads of darkish energy that floated like bad smells down the halls. Darkness that hovered several feet away, watching her.
Poltergeists.
The entities knew her, knew what she was, and lingered back, watching. If she chased it would vanish out of her reach. She had to wait till it took control of something – a doll, a computer even, hopefully a person – or until she had a chance to come back with traps, something to pin it down long enough for her hellhound claws to get a hold to drag it away. She opened her eyes and turned, saw the flash of darkness before it vanished.
Good. You’re afraid of me, she thought and pushed into the music room.
The three students stopped immediately, two of them lowering their instruments, the third watching on from the corner. A young boy, perhaps her age, with curly brown hair and a boyish, round face, stood up and approached.
“Hi, I’m Jackson. Can I help you?”
“I was told this was a practise space for musicians. I was hoping I could join here?” Fay held up the violin case that Abe had delivered at lunch, earning several jealous stares from a group of girls. “I see there’s a small booth in the corner?”
He eyed the case as if it was something dangerous before nodding reluctantly. Fay sat down in the booth, separate, but aware and took out the violin. It was just as well she could play, a past time that Abe had encouraged.
You’ll need something to do when we’re not on cases. I’m not dealing with a hellhound with cabin fever, he used to say.
She opened up her laptop and displayed a music app which flicked the pages automatically as she played. Every so often one of the others stopped to watch her play, subtly glancing at her in the corner of their gaze. The booth wasn’t fully sound proof but it softened her sound. They watched her, listening with curiosity. After all, from her first time at the school she hadn’t been musically inclined; a little in her own time but nothing to suggest the level at which she played now. By the time she finished the sheets she moved onto a bit of improv, which she let carry her away for the moment. It was over all too soon as the practise time was over and she had to pack up. As she put her violin away Jackson wandered over, opened the booth door and leant against it.
“You’re really good. When did you start? I mean, when you were last here you weren’t the type to, well, play I suppose,” he said sheepishly.
Fay lifted her gaze slowly to his. “I started when I was young but on and off. It’s only in the past two years I’ve worked a bit harder. I remember you. Still playing the guitar, I see? You’ve gotten pretty good.”
“I’m okay,” he muttered awkwardly. “I mean, you’ve probably seen all sorts of musicians in your travels.”
She smiled wryly. “What are the stories about me?”
He glanced around. Two girls had drawn closer; one, tall and willowy and brunette, and the other short but petite with black hair. Both were pretty, in their own unique ways. The brunette stared sceptically, whilst the other watched on, her face carefully masked.
The brunette stepped closer. “Some said you had a breakdown and a drug problem. That you went into an institute. Others said you killed someone and went on the run. I think the general idea is though you got mixed up in some bad stuff, got in trouble and had to leave. Though why you’d be back if that was the case I have no idea.” She held out a hand. “I’m Lilian but call me Lil. Personally, I don’t believe the stories. I reckon you fell out with your family down at the compound where all those rich kids live and left. Didn’t know you had a brother, though. That’s who picked you up, isn’t it? That’s what I heard. Doesn’t look a lot like you though.”
“Yeah, he’s my half-brother. Became my guardian when a skipped town. Can’t complain though. He’s doesn’t tell me what to do or act like a parent, so we get along. Mostly.”
The practise drew to a close and the students, one by one, left; first Jackson, whom was closely followed by Lilian, then the third girl, tall and Japanese in appearance, who stopped by the door. She turned and glanced back.
“I’m Toka. Some friendly advice? These humans don’t know anything and Amanda, wherever she is, is probably dead. So, find the poltergeists and leave. This town isn’t good for your kind.”
She shut the door. Fay flew to her feet, grabbing her violin and dashed out into the hallway. Toka was gone. Only Jackson and Lilian were there, walking away from her, slowly. Fay’s hand curled into a fist.
Who the hell was Toka? Or, rather, what was Toka?
Abe was home, which was a relief to Fay, who quickly told him all about what happened. Taking great care to describe Toka. Abe knew faces, never forgot one, and he’d studied every supernatural profile they had on the town. He was silent for several moments after, open his mouth to speak, then closed it and hurried off in a whirl. Fay sat there for five minutes, alone in the dimly lit kitchen, surrounded by the smell of hot coffee and stew boiling away in the pressure cooker, before he returned. In his hands was a manila folder. He opened it and spread the contents on the table.
“Toka, you say? Thought the name was familiar.”
“Who is she?”
“Well, technically, she died twenty years ago.”
“She looked solid for a ghost and didn’t feel like anything demonic,” murmured Fay, curious. “What’s the file say?”
“She’s a wraith. A sort of town guardian. My guess is she sensed you and has been scoping out your presence. File doesn’t say if she’s allied more with the wolves or the humans. Not unusual that you couldn’t see her. Given that Amber never reported her when she was here I’d say it’s a talent of her kind. Given we know so little about wraiths in general it’s not really a shock.”
Fay pressed her lips into a thin line. She looked at the myriad of pictures of Toka; both in life and in death there was something forgettable about her. As though the moment you looked away she ceased to exist, alive only in flashes. Fay felt a pang of sympathy for the wraith, a creature of death she hadn’t met in person before Toka. They were rare, barely one in a million, and were solitary. They were descendants of people born with a genetic predisposition; wherein they turn when they die, become bound to a large area around their death site. It doesn’t always happen, given ninety percent of those with the gene don’t turn. Some of the council scientists argue they’re descendants of some ancient tribe but due to how few there are, and the fact that only a select few can actually see them, little is known for sure.
“She seemed protective of Amanda’s friends, though they don’t even know she exists. Anyway, she seemed to think Amanda was dead.”
“We don’t know the extent of a wraith’s ability to detect if someone has died. I’d like to keep this from the pack. As far as they know we’re not looking into Amanda. For now, we’ll hold back. I want to go back to the school tonight with some traps. If we can catch one and you can force it to talk, maybe we can figure out how it was summoned. Are you good to head down to the Underworld when we’re done?”
She nodded, though she knew he hated when she had to go down. To shadow travel where he couldn’t. It wasn’t like she ventured beyond the Gates of the Underworld. She only took the spirits to the Gate, handed them over to the ferryman, and left. Hades likely knew of her visits but because she was bound to another servitude to him wasn’t possible. No point letting a disobedient dog into his house.
“It shouldn’t be too hard. Reckon a nap won’t hurt beforehand.” Fay pushed away from the kitchen bench. “What time?”
“We’ll head in at one.”
She made her way up to her room through the house that was far too quiet, full of shadows and a pervading silence. Each step on those carpeted stairs resounded with muted thumps. When she stepped into her room, dumping her bag off to the side, she stripped off and went into the ensuite. The shower ran hot and steamed up the mirrors. Fay drew a smiley face before she stepped in and stood under the hot spray, closing her eyes to drift away, if only for a moment.
One moment she was there under the scalding spray, the next she stood in the middle of a desert spring, jewel-blue amongst a lush green oasis. A thin white gown sat around her dark olive skin, the bottom half pooling across the glassy surface. The sun cut down in thick bands through the overhanging trees, scorching on the skin but somehow pleasant. An involuntary sigh tumbled from her mouth as she stretched her arms high above her head, yawning like a desert cat. She dropped her hands and sank beneath the water, falling down until she lay vertical on the bottom of the pool, staring up at the sunlit surface of the water. It seemed like an eternity as she lay there, her mind wondering why she was in this woman’s body; then, by no conscious effort of her mind, she rose from the water like a siren, her hair clinging in glittering curls down her back.
“What are you doing?” A resonating voice called from the edge of the pool, silhouetted by the sun that now hovered low behind him.
She raised her hand but, in that moment, the scene dispelled like melted snow. In the next breath she stood back in the shower. She flicked it off and pressed her forehead against the cold tiles, wondering what the hell she’d just seen. A memory? But whose? She’d dragged dozens down to the Underworld and had been warned by Amber that sometimes the dead rubbed off certain things; memories, feelings, urges. Yet it had only been theory, really. It seemed silly that a hellhound would be affected like that. Besides, no one she’d saved had been old enough to have memories like that.
You’re just stressed, thought Fay as she dressed in a baggy shirt and wrapped another towel around her head. She sat down and dried her hair as much as she could, then braided it back loosely before crawling under the duvet. As she closed her eyes she couldn’t shake the visions or memories or whatever they were. The woman in the oasis, the man calling out to her, the man in Elysium calling Fay Andromeda. She didn’t believe in second lives, nor in reincarnation. Souls sometimes lingered or became trapped on earth, yet eventually they passed one, one way or another. Once they reached the Underworld that was it. They weren’t reborn.
She fell asleep, sinking into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Abe gently shook her awake. Roused from the bed she didn’t wait until he was out the door before she tugged her shirt over her head, then grabbed her uniform. Ever the gentleman, he didn’t even look; not that it wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before. With their bond he’d seen more of her than anyone else had before, even Ben, whom had been a number of firsts for her.
Downstairs, clad in his uniform, a sword strapped to his back and framed by the silver light spilling in from the window above, Abe seemed like some sort of otherworldly being. He held out her sword, meticulously sharpened and sheathed in a freshly oiled sheath. She took it and carried it out, Abe following her into the car; there, she tossed it in the back seat with his and climbed in.
“Got the traps?”
“The grimoire, the binding paint and everything else we’ll need to bind a poltergeist. Have you got everything you need?” Abe asked as he started the car.
Fay flashed him a wicked grin, fangs gleaming, wolf eyes blazing an icy blue. A low, resonating growl rumbled from her chest in reply.
“Let’s go ghost hunting, shall we? I’m dying to sink my teeth into something dead.”
Abe laughed. “There’s the hellion I know.”
ns 172.69.59.179da2
and then Add to home screen.