Delia's Shadow
Authors: Jaime Lee Moyer
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For my grandmother Lorene, who loved family and life in equal measure
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The acknowledgments page in any novel is a chance for the author to say thank you. I’ve been fortunate to have the friendship and support of many talented members of the science fiction and fantasy writing community. I can’t express my gratitude to all of them in this space, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten.
But I can thank the usual suspects: my friends through thick and thin, Elizabeth Bear, Jodi Meadows, Rae Carson, Amanda Downum, Kat Allen, Celia Marsh, and Katherine Miller, who were always there when I needed them; the Million Monkeys, Charles Coleman Finlay, Tobias Buckell, Paul Melko, and Tom Barlow, who taught me structure and made me like it; my faithful and true critters on the Online Writer’s Workshop for Science Fiction and Fantasy, P. J. Thompson, J. R. Hockman, Teresa Frohock, and Josh Vogt, who helped me see what worked; writers and poets extraordinaire Marcy Rockwell and Samantha Henderson, who were always willing to help; all the denizens of The Zoo both past and present; Steve Mancino, who took me seriously and taught me so much; and my daughter, Stephanie Irwin, who fell in love with Delia and knew this was the one.
Finally, I need to thank my tireless, hard-working agent, Tamar Rydzinski, who never gave up, and my partner in crime and life, Marshall Payne, who kept telling me this day would come.
Contents
CHAPTER 1
Delia
The locomotive engine belched billowing clouds of steam, a black-iron dragon chained to the tracks. Warm air ruffled my hair and vanished before I became sure I’d felt it. Foggy, late-spring nights in San Francisco were cold, something I’d conveniently forgotten.
Sam, the elderly porter who’d looked after me all the way from New York, took my satchel and offered his hand as I came down the rickety train-car steps. “Will you be all right on your own, Miss Delia? I can wait until your friend comes if you’d feel better.”
“I’ll be fine.” I shook out my skirts and took my bag. “This is home. I won’t get lost.”
He doffed his cap and smiled. “You take extra care anyway. Lots of strangers in town for the fair.”
I tipped Sam a dollar and moved away from the tracks, facing my fear head on and confronting the reason I’d left home three years ago. San Francisco was full of ghosts. Long-dead children trailed after sad and worn-looking women, and young mothers carrying newborn babes followed proper-looking gentlemen with new wives on an arm. Each restless soul clung to someone they’d loved in life, unwilling to let go. Others walked purposely through train cars and walls, following paths they’d walked before or stopping to cross streets that no longer existed.
Ever since I was a small child I’d caught glimpses of people my parents couldn’t see, or faces peering at me from corners in an otherwise empty room. More than once I’d run to my mother frightened and certain that some stranger had crept into our house. Each time she’d stopped whatever she was doing and taken my hand, walking me from room to room so I could see no one was there. She thought the ghosts I saw an overabundance of childhood fancy, something I’d outgrow in time.
My mother was seldom wrong, but growing up didn’t cure me of seeing spirits. After the earthquake and subsequent fire nine years ago, I began to see them everywhere. Some ghosts were translucent with no more substance than the fog, barely in the world of the living. I’d no way of knowing for certain, but I thought them the oldest or with the fewest ties to loved ones. Others were so close to solid looking I might have thought them made of warm flesh if not for the old style of their clothes and ability to walk through objects.
Going to New York was an attempt to escape spirits and find respite, however brief. That respite lasted almost two and a half years. Long enough to think I might have a normal life.
I dropped my monogrammed satchel on a bench and gathered courage to search the faces on the platform for Sadie. My shadow stood before me, appearing so alive I expected to see her breathe. Thinking of her as a shadow made me feel less insane. I’d never wanted to believe in ghosts, not really. After six months of being haunted by one, I clung to every scrap of sanity I could.
She watched patiently and waited to follow as soon as I moved away. Long dark hair was plaited and coiled neatly on the top of her head, exposing delicate ears and a pale neck. Slender fingers clutched a thin shawl closed over her old-fashioned white cotton blouse. A gold cross glittered at her throat, tiny and easily missed. Dark-blue skirts brushed the top of her scuffed shoes. Green eyes met mine, aware that I saw her.
I didn’t know her name or why she followed me; she’d died before I was born. She’d found and laid claim to me just the same.
Since the morning I awoke to find her standing at the side of my bed, I began to see spirits everywhere again. My hopes for a normal life had vanished. I couldn’t help but feel a touch of panic at the thought of being haunted. But everyone had a shadow, perfectly normal people who never gave the bit of darkness following them a thought. Normalcy was something I desperately craved. Returning home might give me a chance to find it again.
The train station was new since I’d left three years before. Tall stone columns held up a ceiling decorated with plaster medallions carved into intricate leaves and flowers, the designs overlaid with gold leaf to catch the light. Oval windows along the front wall were framed in dark wood, beveled glass held in place by strips of soldered lead foil.
Nightfall meant clouds had moved in off the bay, smothering the city in a curtain of gray mist. Fog rolled through the arched double doors open at the end of the platform, wisps flowing across soiled tile floors and leaving a slick film of moisture behind. Dampness glistened on wooden benches framed with iron, filmed flickering electric lamps, and the four-wheeled carts porters filled with luggage too large to carry.
A deep breath brought the salt-tang of the bay and of fish offloaded on the docks, overlaid with the oily scent of cinders darkening the track bed. The fire had changed the look of the city, ripped away familiar places and replaced them with new buildings, but the air still smelled of home.
“Delia! Over here!” Sadie waved and plowed through the crowd, living and dead. Tall and slim, Sadie’s wide-brimmed hat was tipped to show off a heart-shaped face and ocean-blue eyes. She was always in fashion, wearing the latest styles to sweep the city. I’d no doubt the fur-trimmed wool coat, the black kid gloves, and beads looped around her neck were all the rage. She’d cut her hair as well and curls the color of sun-ripe wheat foamed out of the hat. I felt like the poor country cousin in my traveling garb.
I kept a smile on my face, knowing she wouldn’t understand my flinch as she walked through the middle of a gold-rush miner and a Chinese railroad worker. My shadow stepped aside or Sadie might have ended up standing inside the ghost.
“It’s so good to see you.” I shut my eyes and hugged Sadie, unnerved at seeing my ghost hovering behind her. “Three years is a long time.”
She held me at arm’s length, glee barely contained. “I’m not the one who took a teaching job on the other side of the country. You’ve no one to blame for being deprived of my company but yourself. I might even forgive you for going away if you show proper appreciation for my surprise.”
“Surprise?” She was the same old Sadie, bubbly and bright, brimming with secrets and infectious good humor. I really was home and laughing easy. Being haunted suddenly didn’t seem as horrible. “Are you going to tell me or make me wait to find out?”
Sadie tugged off her glove and shoved a hand under my nose, grinning and obviously pleased with herself. A sapphire and garnet ring sparkled on her finger. “Look! Isn’t it glorious?”