Shade (23 page)

“ ‘Is she important?’” he murmured to himself. Ian picked up his utensils, then set them down, as if too overcome by shock to eat. “I can’t believe you know her.”

Zachary raised his hand. “I know her too, if it matters.”

So Zachary had kept our project a secret from his father. I wondered where he’d told Ian he was going on those nights.

“Eowyn’s our adviser for our history thesis,” I told Ian. “It’s not specifically on Newgrange. I sort of broadened the topic so no one would know exactly what I was looking for.” I threw Zachary a sheepish glance. “Not even you. Sorry.”

He gave me a smile that warmed my toes. “I’d started to guess.”

“What have you found out?” Ian’s voice held a hint of thunder.

My gut churned, and I knew I had to answer carefully. “Just that Newgrange marks the winter solstice sunrise, and that it was an ancient burial tomb. I’m trying to decipher the markings on the walls of the solstice chamber.”

“Why?” he demanded. “Surely it’s more than general curiosity.”

I smoothed my hair back from my eyes, trying not to squirm. “That place and time seemed so important to my mom. She blew off a semester of college to stay there for three months after winter break. And the fact that she was at Newgrange on the solstice, exactly a year before I was born, seemed like too much of a coincidence to be … well, a coincidence.”

“And what about Eowyn Harris?” Zachary asked his dad. “How is she involved?”

Ian picked up the wine bottle and filled Gina’s glass, though it wasn’t empty yet. “Eowyn Harris was at Newgrange with your mum and I,” he told me, “the year before you were born. Along with ninety-seven other randomly chosen people from around the world.”

I said, “Do you have all their names memorized like you do Eowyn’s?”

“Aye, I do.” He picked up his knife and fork. “And that, my friends, must end this conversation, or I will get sacked.”

After an uncomfortable moment, Aunt Gina cleared her throat. “So how about this weather? So bitter cold the last few days.”

I looked at Zachary, and his eyes reflected my frustration with the aborted discussion.

Gina opened the pizza box for another slice. “At least tonight I know I’ll be going home to some warm flannel sheets.”

I started at her last words, especially the way she emphasized them. “Flannel sheets already?” I asked, hoping my eyes didn’t look as wide as they felt.

“It’s almost Christmas,” she said. “I usually put them on our beds around Thanksgiving, but this year it’s been so warm.” She raised her
eyebrows at me and took a sip of wine. “Now we’ll both be cozy and ready for winter.”

My pulse racing, I dropped my gaze to my half-eaten pizza slice and picked at the crust.

She knew. She’d seen my non-red sheets. By now they were probably in a Dumpster, or given to Goodwill. My nights with Logan—the few we had left before he passed on—were done. On my birthday, of all days.

Beside me, Zachary shifted in his chair. My coconspirator in sheet buying. If I looked too upset, he’d take it personally. But did he expect me to break up with Logan now that he and I had kissed? Was it even possible to break up with a dead person?

Zachary leaned over and said, “Did you want to see the rest of the house?”

I nodded at him in gratitude—and with admiration for distracting me from thoughts of Logan. He wasn’t backing down.

“Go on,” Ian said. “It’s fascinating.”

Zachary and I climbed the narrow stairs, stepping carefully as they curved to the left. He put his hand on my back as he followed—to steady me, no doubt, but it had the opposite effect.

On the second floor, two small bedrooms were decorated in lace and feminine colors. In one of them, an even narrower staircase led up to the attic. I climbed it, though the light was so dim I could barely see my feet.

The tiny room at the top of the house was empty except for a low bed and a desk by the window. Beside the desk hung an electric lantern, one that simulated a weak flame. It cast shifting shadows on the bare, off-white walls.

“Ow.”

Zachary held his head, which he’d hit on the sloped ceiling. He moved to stand in the center, though his hair still grazed the surface.

Even I had to duck on my way to the attic window, the only one in the house not shuttered. In the vacant lot across the street, the ghost of a man in a raincoat wandered, examining the mud using his own violet light. I wondered if he’d lived in a house torn down long ago, like this one almost was.

“I don’t suppose we’re allowed to sit on the bed,” Zachary said.

“It doesn’t look much softer than the floor, anyway.”

We sat cross-legged facing each other on the thin area rug. “Thank you for getting me away from them,” I said.

“I’m sorry your birthday has been such crap.”

“Not totally.” I slid my finger along the grain of the ebony floorboard, picturing a telltale heart lying underneath. “And it’s not over yet. It could become more crap.”

“My dad can be a real bastard sometimes. Always about the mission, nothing else matters.”

“Can’t be fun for you, either.” I worked up the nerve to take his hand. “Is it true what you told me about your mom leaving?”

“Partly.” The wall lantern cast shadows where his eyelashes brushed his cheeks. “She wasn’t happy, but that wasn’t why she left. My dad sent her away somewhere for her own protection when things started to get dodgy.”

“But not you?”

“I chose to stay. I wanted to find out who I was—
why
I was—and I couldn’t do that from a safe house in some godforsaken English
village.” He ran his thumb over my knuckles. “When I met you, I knew I’d made the right choice.”

“What about Becca Goldman?” I asked, only half teasing. “Hasn’t she been a good ambassador?”

“Becca.” Zachary rubbed his reddening face. “I should explain about that.”

“Did you hang out with her because she’s older and wouldn’t see you scare off ghosts?” I cursed the pathetic hopefulness in my voice.

“That’s part of it. But the main reason was for reconnaissance.”

“Huh?”

“You wanted to know who started those rumors about you.”

“It was Becca?” Rage surged up my throat, almost making me hiccup.

“No. But by joining that group, I heard all the gossip and eventually figured out the truth. It was Brian, just like Megan suspected.”

“Why would he do that? Does he hate me?”

“No, but he did it for someone who does hate you. Nadine, a girl from Logan’s school who liked him. Liked Logan, that is. Brian wanted to shag Nadine like mad.” Zachary spit out the words with a grimace, like they tasted awful. “Making you miserable was their little project. Something they could bond over. That’s what Brian was hoping.”

I brushed my fingers over the bandages on his knuckles. “When did you find out for sure?”

“At Becca’s party last week.”

“So it’s true, you went. How was it?”

“It was brilliant. The Goldmans have the most blinding collection of single-malt scotches. And a hot tub.”

My pulse sped up at the thought of him and Becca wet and nearly naked.

“Nothing happened beyond a bit of soaking.” He tilted his head. “Well, no’ between us. Some of the others, I could tell you stories.”

“Stories about who?”

“Ah no, you won’t get that for free. You have to be nice to me for two minutes straight.”

“I am nice to you.”

“I mean, really nice.” He nudged my knee with his foot. “Father Christmas might call it naughty, but he’s a filthy old bugger.”

My insides quivered. I wanted to be very, very nice to Zachary, for longer than two minutes. But first I had to clear up a few things.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me your favorite song when we were standing at the porthole? Why did you wait until we were in the dark?”

“With you being so serious about music, I was intimidated.” He traced the lines of my palm with his fingertips. “I thought maybe it wouldn’t be cool enough.”

His touch was lighting up my whole arm. I had to concentrate to keep my words in the right order.“ ‘I Will Possess Your Heart’ is definitely cool enough,” I told him.

“See? You judged. What if I’d named something less cool?” At the corner of his jaw, a tiny muscle twitched. “In the dark at least I wouldn’t have had to see you laugh.”

I wanted to laugh right then, to keep calm—and keep from throwing myself at him. “I think it’s cute that you were trying to impress me.”

“I wasn’t. If I were, I’d have just named a song I knew you liked.
One where you couldn’t analyze every line and wonder if it was about us.”

I locked my gaze on his green eyes. “Is it?”

“Not the stalker part.” He lifted my hand toward his lips. “Just the part where he gets the girl.”

I closed my eyes as he kissed the pulse at my wrist, wondering if I should point out that in the song, the guy doesn’t get the girl. But surely Zachary knew that, and it wasn’t the point. The point was the wanting and the waiting.

The point was the “Will.”

Aunt Gina and I didn’t speak much on the short drive home. I was still kind of pissed from our argument, and besides, I was too busy thinking to talk. My mind sorted through the day’s events, trying to sift them into categories: the good (kissing Zachary), the bad (chased by dumpers), and the ugly (shade attack).

But each of the good parts had some bad and ugly mixed in, and vice versa. I wasn’t sure how I felt about any of it. I only knew I felt roughly ten thousand miles from sleep.

When we entered the house, Gina took my arm with a gentle tug. “I’m sorry if I upset you with what I said about your father. I just want you to be happy.”

“I know. It’s been a crazy day,” I added, to dismiss the subject.

“Speaking of the day.” Gina led me into the dining room, where
a small box sat wrapped in metallic blue paper with a purple bow (she knew I hated getting birthday presents in Christmas wrapping). “I wanted to give this to you alone. I hope you didn’t think I forgot.”

“Of course not.” I gave her a quick hug, then opened the card and scanned the affectionate message, waiting a polite amount of time before I could dig into the gift. “Thank you, that’s really sweet.” I picked up the wrapped box and shook it. “Ooh, jewelry?”

“I’m sorry there’s only one gift. I was surprised how much these things cost, but you said last year your heart was set on having one.”

I gave her an eager glance, clueless as to what I had wanted for my sixteenth birthday. That felt like a century ago.

I unveiled a white box from my favorite local jeweler—they did super-funky, one-of-a-kind items—and bounced on my toes, savoring the last few moments of anticipation.

I opened the box and swept off the layer of cotton protecting the …
oh God
. My stomach sank slowly, lying down in surrender.

“Do you like it?” Gina asked. “We can exchange it if you want a different length.”

I lifted the necklace from the box. The eighteen-karat gold chain and setting gleamed in the chandelier’s glow. But the teardrop-shaped stone reflected no light at all.

Obsidian.

“When did you buy this?” I whispered.

“I ordered it last month,” she said in a quiet but firm voice. “Right before Thanksgiving.”

Last month. After Logan’s death.

I laid the stone in the center of my palm. It was solid black, but if I stared hard enough, I could see red flecks deep within.

Every muscle in my face went rigid. I had to say something,
anything
nice to keep from screaming. “It’s beautiful.” Not a lie. But tornados were beautiful too.

“Sweetie, you probably feel like you don’t want that right now. But please keep it. You’ll want it soon enough.”

I wanted to hurl it across the room. But instead I handed it to Gina, then turned my back and lifted my hair so she could put it on me. The sooner it was on, the sooner I could take it off.

“The clasp is stubborn.” She gave a little grunt. “We might have to ask them to loosen it.” She looped it around my neck, where the stone thudded against my chest. A click came from behind my head. “There. Let’s see how it looks.”

We went to the mirror. The fake Christmas pine boughs draped over it made a frame for our faces. I smiled to please Gina, but my eyes fixed on the dead cold black of the obsidian.

Aunt Gina hugged me. “Happy birthday.”

“You too,” I said absently, then realized what she’d said. “I mean, thanks.” I kissed her cheek and tucked the pendant inside my sweater. “I’m gonna go to bed early, okay?”

“Wait.” She blinked rapidly. “There’s something you should know.”

You changed my sheets.

“Mr. Keeley called today,” Gina said. “Apparently Logan plans to leave this world before the trial.” She paused, as if waiting for me to confirm the information. “But the Keeleys want to push forward with the lawsuit, even in his absence.”

“Are you kidding?” I steadied myself with the table edge. “I thought the whole point was to get Logan to move on, to save his soul. If he finds peace, why not drop the case?”

“It’s become their crusade.” She swiped a tired hand across her forehead. “I’ve seen this happen with other clients. They lose a loved one, and the only way they can find meaning in that death is to prevent others like it.”

“How does suing the record company keep other musicians from snorting coke?”

“If it makes these men think twice before luring ambitious kids with free drugs, it’ll be a moral victory. Even if we lose.”

“Without Logan, you
will
lose. The whole case depends on proving he didn’t know what he was doing when he took the drugs.”

“We’ll still have your testimony as to his state of mind. We’ll also have Logan’s deposition, which the jury can read. It’s not as effective as hearing his testimony, so to speak, but it’s better than nothing.” She clenched her fists. “If only the state had passed that drug dealer liability law, Warrant would’ve settled out of court weeks ago.”

I turned away from her, my mind spinning. If it was already too late to avoid the shame of the trial, Logan might as well stay indefinitely. But did I want him to? The choice was ours again.