Brush With Death (16 page)

T
he memorial to
Rose Peterson had been growing all week, ever since our anonymous phone call to
the police.  Simon had bought a disposable cell phone and Calvin had made the
call, letting some of his wolf come to the surface to disguise his voice.  Then
we watched the television and checked the Internet obsessively for news.

The day after our anonymous tip, the police held a press
conference announcing the discovery of Rose Peterson’s remains.  Once the
police completed their tests, her body would be released to her family and her
soul could finally rest.

Yuki had been relieved that her responsibilities to Rose
Peterson were over.  But she still had one final task.  It was time to say
goodbye.

We stood looking at the flowers, stuffed animals, and
candles.  The people of Wakefield had felt the loss of this local teen deeply. 
At least with the Grabber behind bars, they wouldn’t have to experience grief
at his hands again.  Thanks to our little group of friends, he would never be
returning to Wakefield.

Calvin couldn’t make it, but said he would keep Rose in his
thoughts.  I wondered what was so important that he’d miss this, but then a
motorcycle engine purred and all thoughts of Calvin disappeared.  Simon was
here. 

“Hello, Love,” he said. 

Simon walked to stand at my side, the crunch of gravel
beneath his expensive boots the only sound.  It was so peaceful here, the
perfect place for a memorial. 

We weren’t at the site where Yuki originally found Rose. 
Police were still maintaining that area as a crime scene.  But when the police
reported her body being found in the park, people had shown up to remember her
and honor her family’s loss.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and reached for Simon’s
hand. 

“Hey,” I said.  

Simon had thought to bring flowers.  He squeezed my hand
then knelt down to place the bouquet with the others.  Reaching inside his
jacket, he withdrew a candle.  Brushing the ground, he set the votive there and,
with a flick of his wrist, lit the candle with a lighter from his pocket.  He
bowed his head then stood, holding me close.

I looked over to where Yuki sat on the ground, her skirt
pooled around her.  Her lips were moving and she was smiling.  She was saying
goodbye.

I never really understood Yuki’s connection to the ghosts
that she helped.  They plagued her with smells until she helped them with their
final wishes, but in the end it seemed like they became friends.  It gave me
hope that Yuki would get her wish, that she could make it through Samhain
without wearing Nera’s amulet.

Yuki felt strongly about returning the amulet to its
rightful owners.  Her wishful belief was that the spirits of the dead whom she
helped find peace would return to her side and aid her in her battle against
the evil spirits who tried to harm her on Samhain.  She hoped for an army of
souls to keep her safe.

I looked at Yuki as she reached up and waved goodbye, a
wistful smile on her lips as a tear rolled down her cheek.

More like an army of friends.

I
woke up
excited to breathe fresh, clean air.  No more smelly ghosts.  I had watched yesterday
as Rose Peterson’s glowing aura stepped into the light.  She had finally found
her peace.

I was ghost free.  Even Jackson’s vinegar scent was
missing.  I breathed in the smell of clean sheets and sighed.  I smiled up at
the ceiling, lazily counting the plastic constellations above my head.  I could
stay in bed all day.  Then I remembered what day it was. 
Son of a dung
beetle.

Today was graduation.

I sat up so quickly my head spun.  Ugh.  I threw the
comforter back, jumped out of bed, and ran to my closet.  A tomato red cap and
gown hung on the back of the door.  I’d have to put that ugly thing on over my
clothes, but that didn’t make choosing what to wear underneath any easier. 
Plus, I wouldn’t be wearing the cap and gown all day.

What to wear, what to wear?

My parents had promised to take me and Cal out for afternoon
tea in the garden view room at a local bed and breakfast.  Tea, scones, and
finger sandwiches, I couldn’t wait.  I was tempted to wear my “Dark Alice”
costume for tea, but no.  It was a rare occasion for both of my parents to take
time off from work.  I was going to dress nice.

Definitely the black, high necked, neo-Victorian dress.

I grabbed the dress, lace gloves, and a pair of button-up
boots.  Racing for the shower, I sent up a silent prayer;
please don’t let
me trip on stage
.  At least my boots don’t have laces.  That should help
even the odds.

I emerged an hour later in full dress and makeup.  I strode
to my full length mirror, skirts swishing.  I’d chosen black and white striped
stockings which showed above my boots where the skirts of my dress were cinched
at the knee.  The back of the dress flowed down to touch my boots about an inch
above the heel.  Oversleeping meant I didn’t have time to paint my nails, but
the lace gloves I wore covered the flecks of old black nail polish.

I was finally ready.  I fist pumped the air above my head
and stared back at my reflection.

“Time to graduate,” I whispered.

*****

I sat beside my parents on an uncomfortable folding chair
and fidgeted with my cap.  I couldn’t wait to throw the thing into the air, and
be rid of it for good, but first I had to graduate.

The sun was rising high into the late morning sky and the
heat was already unbearable.  It felt like I’d been sitting in the heat for
hours.  Another drop of sweat trickled down my back.  Why did they have to hold
the ceremony outside?  Not that I wanted to spend the day inside a smelly gym,
but at least in there my makeup wouldn’t run.  I felt like I was melting.

“You look lovely, dear,” Mom said.

“Thanks,” I said

I caught motion to my right and perked up.  Were we
starting?  My stomach filled with the flutter of vampire bats, but it was only
Gordy waving.  I waved back at Gordy and Katie who were taking their seats.

At least they wouldn’t have to sit here as long.  My parents
had insisted on coming early.  Looking at the program, I groaned.  They were
calling students in alphabetical order.  With the name Stennings, I would be
one of the last students to walk the stage.  I just hoped that they called me
Yuki.

A hand on my shoulder made me jump.

“Can I borrow Yuki for a moment, Mrs. Stennings?” Cal asked.

Ah, rescued by my knight in furry armor.  My mom loved Cal,
she’d totally say yes.

“Only for a few minutes, Calvin,” she said.  “They are
preparing to begin.”

 “Be right back,” I said, already rushing to leave.

Cal held out his hand and I climbed over the chair to exit
the row of seats.  I followed Cal to where Simon stood waiting beneath the
shade of a tree.

“Simon has a graduation gift for you,” Cal said.

Hell must have frozen over.

“Yes, I would have waited until after the ceremony, but
Emma’s parents have invited me to a family cookout,” Simon said.  He looked
slightly ill.  I wasn’t sure if it was the thought of attending a cookout,
meeting Emma’s parents, or eating tofu dogs and veggie burgers.  “Calvin told
me about your decision to pursue painting as a career.”

I nodded, wondering what kind of gift Simon would give me. 
A paint brush?  A sketch pad?  Instead he handed me a business card.

“If you’re serious, and want to show your work in Boston
some time, I know a guy with an art gallery,” he said.  Simon glanced at the
card in my hand and a grin tugged at his lips.  “Tell him Simon sent you.”

Simon knew a guy with an art gallery?  Of course he did,
Simon had connections everywhere.  Usually they were black market connections,
but I doubted he was talking about a shady art gallery.  Then again, this was
Simon.

“Is this guy some kind of forger?” I asked.

“Not anymore,” he said, shrugging.

Great, Simon was hooking me up with a former black market
art dealer.  But the guy had gone legit.  I slid the card into my pocket.  Who
knows, maybe I’d have Emma look him up online and make sure he had a legitimate
gallery.

“Thanks Simon,” I said.

He drifted off to sit with Emma and I took a step back
toward the rows of seats.

“Wait,” Cal said.  “I haven’t given you my gift yet.”

“I thought we were exchanging gifts later,” I said.  “I
don’t have yours with me.”

“This is just part of your gift,” he said. 

Cal handed me an envelope.  I could feel something hard
inside and when I opened it, a key slid out onto my palm.

“The key to your heart?” I asked. 

Cal leaned down and let his lips brush mine.

“You already have that,” he said.  “This is a key to the
flea market.  You are now the renter of stall number thirteen.”

I jumped into his arms and he spun me around.

“Really?” I squealed.

“Really,” he said.  “We can go there after we have tea with
your parents.”

Cal really was the best boyfriend ever.

We rushed back to our seats and the ceremony began.  With
thoughts of my new art business racing through my head, time flew by.  Before I
knew it, they were calling Emma’s name.  She would be taking the stage again
later for her valedictory speech.  I was so freaking proud of her.

As soon as she stepped onto the stage a cheering and round
of applause met my own.  I looked around, seeing my friends smiling and
clapping, but the cheering wasn’t coming from the seats where students sat with
their families.  Did Emma bring her own fan club?  It was possible.  She’d
volunteered at a lot of local businesses that helped animals.

But when Calvin took the stage the cheering began again.  Cal
hadn’t volunteered with Emma, so who were the people cheering?

Soon, too soon, it was my turn.  They called out for Vanessa
Stennings.  Of course they wouldn’t get my name right.  Oh well, I’m almost out
of this place. 
Goodbye, Wakefield High.

I walked up onto the stage, careful not to trip as I took
the stairs one at a time.  I wanted to run.  My lungs tightened and I started
to see stars.  But no, it wasn’t stars.  The golden glow was hovering over a
family that stood arm in arm behind the rows of seats.

Rose Peterson had returned to witness one final victory.

I looked out past the now forgotten crowd to see Sarah Randall’s
smiling face.  Sarah and her family cheered, laughing and clapping.  They were
cheering for me.

A blinked away tears and took a shuddering breath.

Senior year had been difficult—discovering that Cal was a
werewolf, dealing with my emerging psychic powers, the car accident with Emma,
and being bullied by jocks.  Looking out at Sarah’s smiling face, I realized
something important.  My ability to smell spirits of the dead was not a curse,
it was a gift.  A weight lifted from my chest and for the first time in months,
I could breathe again.  My life may be difficult, but I wouldn’t change it for
the world.

I raised my hand and waved.

###

Author’s Note

“My heart, always so strong in the past, was like the fishnet stockings
that clung to my legs—torn, shredded, and full of gaping holes.”

--Yuki, Brush with Death

The Spirit Guide series
has been an emotional journey for me.  These characters have been raised up,
knocked down, and tormented, by bullies, ghosts, and their pasts, and yet they
continue to pick up the pieces with a smile—until Brush with Death.

In the newest installment
of the Spirit Guide series, there are chinks in the armor of these characters,
and its beginning to show.  You can’t glue Humpty Dumpty back together over and
over again and expect his smile to remain perfect.  There will always be a
twist to his lips here, a dark shadow beneath his eyes there.  And that’s what
I wanted to show in Brush with Death.  These characters are amazing and strong
and true to themselves, but they are damaged.

Do they make mistakes? 
Yes.  These are teens on the cusp of adulthood who are dealing with ghosts,
bullies, creepy spirit guides, and (hopefully) high school graduation.  Each
character is under incredible pressure to make the right decisions about their
future. 

But it’s hard to focus on
tomorrow, if you may not survive the day. 

I hope fans of the series
will forgive me for the way I treated these beloved characters.  I can assure
you that I felt every moment of fear, guilt, and indecision as if it were my
own.  As one reviewer put it, “I hope you're ready to be torn apart and
stitched back together again when you read it, because that's exactly what
happened to me. Yuki was broken, Calvin was broken, Emma was broken, I was
broken—but E.J. slammed us all back together and it wasn't awful, it was
good.”  I will keep my fingers crossed that you find the overall experience
good as well.

And if you are still with
me, dear readers, in 2013 we have ghost pirates.  Yes, GHOST PIRATES.  I
promise that The Pirate Curse will be fun indeed.

Also by E.J. Stevens

Spirit Guide

Young Adult Series

She Smells the Dead

Spirit Storm

Legend of Witchtrot Road

Brush with Death

Ivy Granger

Urban Fantasy Series

Shadow Sight

Blood and Mistletoe (November 2012)

Dark Poetry Collections

From the Shadows

Shadows of Myth and Legend