Shadow Days (2 page)

The screen door banged open and closed, and a moment later Kate stood in my bedroom door, breathless.

7

“I’m here! Tell me it’s not true!”

She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt layered beneath the hoodie I’d loaned her at the bonfire we’d had last weekend. I knew the smile I shot her way was muted by regret. I’d been toying with the idea of asking Kate out. She was cute, smart, and funny. Now the best I could do was an “I’ll miss you” hook-up, which would only leave me feeling like an ass.

My uncle really is a nutclubber.

“We’re packing boxes for the fun of it,” Sam said, striking a minor chord.

“You haven’t helped pack a thing,” Ally said. “But yeah, he’s leaving us.”

“Why?” Kate kind of threw herself at me. I was kinda expecting a hug, so I caught her. She smelled like strawberries, and I started to rethink the merits of that good-bye hook-up. Then I remembered that I don’t want to be That Guy . . . most of the time.

“The usual,” I said, enjoying the way she tucked her head under-neath my chin. “My uncle’s work is moving, so am I.”

“If you’re in boarding schools anyway, why do you have to go anywhere?” Mike asked.

My teeth clenched and I let Kate go. “I don’t know, but I’ve learned that arguing about it doesn’t do any good. I just have to move when he tells me to.”

“Sucks,” Sam said.

“Write me a song about it,” I said, not wanting to mope.

Sam grinned. “Maybe I will.”

“But no more Elliott Smith stuff,” Mike said. “Just ’cause he died doesn’t mean we’re all waiting for his replacement.”

“I’m not trying to be Elliott Smith.” Sam glared at him.

“Uh-huh,” Mike said. “Your ‘Saturday Market’ sounded just like

‘Rose Parade.’”

8

“No, it didn’t.” Sam threw a pleading gaze at Ally.

“Sorry,” she said.

“Damn it.” Sam shoved his guitar aside.

“Language,” she said.

Sam picked up his guitar again and repeated the angry move-ment. “Mangleguts!” he said, managing to keep a straight face.

Ally smiled and nodded. “Good boy.”

“I’m going to miss this,” I said, and then wished I hadn’t. Everybody got quiet. Kate sighed.

Ever the mother hen, Ally strode up to me, placing her hands on my shoulders. “Miss, schmiss. You’re not getting away from us.”

“You’re going to keep him here as a hostage,” Mike said. “Nice.

His uncle’s loaded.”

Ally ignored him. “I know you have this whole social media aversion thing—”

“I’d rather read . . . or go on a hike,” I replied automatically. “I’m content with texting.”

“No excuses,” she said, wagging her finger in my face. “We’re setting you up a facebook page right now. ”

“Uh—” I started. But she was already heading to my laptop.

“No! A blog—make him do a blog.” Sam stood up, trotting to meet her and sliding into the chair at my desk before she had a chance to.

“Wait a sec—” I shook my head, but Ally had already begun to giggle, whispering in Sam’s ear while he typed.

“Give the guy a break,” Mike said. “He’s already being exiled from the coolest city in the continental U.S. and now you’re giving him homework.”

Ally glared at him. “I know what I’m doing.”

“You’re the expert,” he said, giving me an “I tried” glance. But she was right. Ally was the social sun around which we all orbited.

9

“A blog and facebook it is,” Sam announced. He clicked between two screens, as of yet empty templates. Tabula rasa: a clean slate, like my new life.

“I don’t know about this,” I said. “What am I supposed to write about? I don’t think people will want to read about my boring life.”

“Write nice things about us,” Ally said. “We’re suckers for flat-tery. And witticisms. I believe you are capable of witticisms.”

I raise an eyebrow at her. “Give me an example.”

“If you need an example, I may have been wrong about you,”

Ally said.

“You have to let us know you’re doing okay.” Kate pulled the hoodie a little tighter around her. I doubted I would ever get it back.

I peered over Sam’s shoulder. “fine. But how am I supposed to even use these? You made up the password. I don’t know it.”

Ally grinned. “Sure you do.”

She waited a beat, watching me.

I began to laugh. “Nutclubber.”

“What else?” She hugged me, and I made a mental note to change it as soon as I had a minute alone. I didn’t want to imagine all the things Mike and Sam would post if I left the sites open to them.

Ally’s phone buzzed. She looked at it and began texting with the speed and precision of a cyborg.

“Your first send-off is at Lisbeth’s house tonight,” she said.

“My first send-off?” I asked.

“Sure.” She smiled at me. “You have two nights left in Portland, right?”

God, I’d miss this place.

10

two

F

After two nigHts of going-AwAy parties I was

not of a mind, body, or spirit to climb into a car with a driver who looked like at any moment his muscles were going to rip right through his dark suit. Why my uncle’s drivers always looked like they could double as pro wrestlers never failed to perplex me. I tried to stay hidden behind my sunglasses as I was driven to a private airstrip and herded to my uncle’s Gulfstream G650.

Like with the moving argument, I’d learned that trying to convince Bosque I’d be happier flying on a commercial airline like normal people rather than taking these trips featuring only me, the pilot, and a flight attendant was completely pointless. As usual the latter member of that party looked twenty-something with piles of midnight curls rolling over her shoulders and enough buttons on her blouse undone to leave more than a teasing glimpse of her abundant cleavage. I knew that would be a bonus for any normal warm-blooded teenage male or something, but considering it was my uncle’s plane, I was slightly creeped out. After my second going-away party, I was more in a state to cuddle with a toilet than a hot girl, so it only left me more pissed off.

The trip from Portland to Vail was mercifully short. And with the flight attendant serving me ginger ale after ginger ale, I almost felt normal by the time I exited the plane. I stopped in surprise, not at 12

the sight of another hulking driver waiting for me, but because my uncle stood next to him. I knew he said he’d be there when we spoke on the phone, but part of me didn’t believe it would actually happen.

Never in all the moves I’d made, and those numbered more than I cared to count, had Bosque been around to welcome me to my new

“home”—this was like the director of the fBI showing up to usher an informant into witness protection.

He lifted his hand in greeting as I approached, a brief smile touching his lips. “Seamus.”

“Hey, Uncle Bosque,” I said. I’d never been able to get a fix on Bosque’s age. His attitude led me to believe he was my mother’s older brother, but his hair was impossibly free of gray. Considering he made a zillion dollars or something every year, he could afford a decent haircut, but instead his dark hair was slicked backed so it clung to his scalp tighter than a helmet. He didn’t quite manage up-to-date fashion either. His suits looked like they’d been tailored in the 1920s, though they were obviously brand new.

He patted my shoulder. Bosque wasn’t big on hugs, and that was okay by me. The driver opened the door to the car, and Bosque gestured for me to get in. He slid into the seat beside me. The car rolled away from the plane and onto the airport’s service road. My instinct was to peer out the tinted windows so I could gaze at the mountains, but I figured if Bosque was here, he wanted to talk to me.

“I trust you’re well,” he said.

“Well enough.” My headache was gone. But I’d been planning on using the rest of the day for a nap. I hoped my uncle didn’t have big plans for us.

Bosque slid his dark suit jacket off his shoulders, folding it in his lap. “I thought it best that I join you here for a few days. It’s only proper, given that this house holds so much of the family legacy within its walls.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t following his line of thought.

13

“I also need to make a few visits to the school,” he said. “Their admissions process is more rigorous than that of any institution you’ve attended. There will be a slight delay before you can begin classes.”

My eyebrows went up. “Is there a problem?” It couldn’t be my grades, because those were always good. Besides, even if I’d been an academic disaster, Bosque was the sort of man who snapped his fingers and changed the world. I couldn’t imagine what the holdup could be.

Bosque shook his head. “Simply administrative obstacles that you’ve no need to concern yourself with. I’m sure you can find ways to distract yourself until the matter is settled.”

“How long?” I asked. Having my summer vacation extended wasn’t a bad thing. On the other hand, school was the only place I was likely to meet people.

“A few weeks,” Bosque said.

I opened my mouth and closed it again. I’d been ready to argue that I should have just stayed in Portland, finishing my senior year there like I’d wanted to. But arguing with my uncle never got me anywhere.

“I guess I’ll hit the trails, get some good hikes in,” I said, slump-ing down in the seat.

“That’s the spirit.” His phone buzzed and I looked away as my uncle fell into quiet conversation with whomever had called.

My gaze wandered to the window, finding snow-covered peaks and mountain slopes painted in greens that ranged from jade to ebony. Portland had been a great place to live because I’d spent so much time outdoors. Adventurous, sure, but it was also soft. The air had been perpetually damp in Oregon, giving the rivers and forests a mellow quality. Colorado felt
wild.
The air that slipped in when I cracked the window was dry, sharp, and biting. I shivered reflexively.

“Stunning, isn’t it?” Bosque was looking at me.

14

“Yeah,” I said. My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out to see a text from Ally.

Are you there yet? Why haven’t you updated your status?

I sighed, punching in a response.
Landed, not home yet. Uncle’s
here.

Really???

Affirmative. Gotta go.

“friends missing you already?” Bosque asked.

“Yep.” I shoved my phone back in my pocket, trying to ignore the knot in my gut. Trying to pretend I didn’t wish I was back in Portland.

“You’ll make new friends,” he said. “I assure you. You’ll be well taken care of.”

“By the school that won’t let me in?” I asked.

Bosque gave me a measured look, not blinking until I said,

“Sorry.”

We spent the rest of the trip in silence. My headache had revived itself and Uncle Bosque was reading
The Economist.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, an hour maybe, in which I’d nodded off, when he cleared his throat.

I rubbed the grogginess out of my eyes. When my vision cleared, I didn’t have the sense to catch myself before I swore, starting at the behemoth that stood outside my window.

My uncle laughed. “It
is
impressive, is it not?”

Impressive
wasn’t the word I would have picked. It was enormous.

The car had stopped at the end of a long drive lined with expertly manicured trees. The house, if you could call it that, had four stories.

The first three were lined with immense, mullioned windows while sharp eaves of the fourth cloaked what I guessed were the attic’s rooms.

In a place this big is it still called an attic?

In the crooks and shadows lining the top of the mansion were 15

dozens of stone creatures. Some innocuous: deer, owls, and horses; others, sinister beasts that inhabited only myth. Twisting winged serpents, gargoyles, and chimeras leered at me as I climbed out of the car. The stone exterior was a somber gray and its facade looked out of place against the backdrop of mountains. A house like this belonged amid lonely English moors.

I’m moving into evil Hogwarts,
I texted Ally.

She answered a few seconds later.
Nice. Too bad you’re a Muggle.

Obviously she’d found that funny, but I was still freaked out by the place. It wasn’t just the way the mansion looked. With each step I took toward the front doors, my skin crawled. It was a warm Sep-tember day, but I couldn’t help shuddering.

Uncle Bosque appeared entirely at ease as he took long strides to the doors. They swung open as if in welcome.

“Good afternoon, sir,” a tall, thin man greeted him. “Everything is in order, per your instructions.”

“Excellent,” Bosque said. My uncle beckoned me toward the open doors. My feet had rooted themselves to the ground, making each step I took cumbersome. I was even more uncomfortable when the thin man bowed as I walked past him into the house.

Waiting in the front entryway were a dozen or so more people, men and women all dressed in crisp black and white uniforms, heads bowed in respect. I wanted to scream and jump around them like a maniac just to see if they’d keep up the deference act or clobber me like any sensible person would. As unnerving as the silent staff was, the entryway itself was even more intimidating. The room was broad and round. A chandelier hung suspended in the air above us, the darkness of the wrought iron offset by the sparkle of crystal. On the wall opposite the front doors two staircases rose to meet the balcony ringing the second floor.

My contemplation was broken by the solid thud of the front doors closing.

16

“Shay,” my uncle said. “This is Rowan Estate’s staff. They’ve done me the courtesy of gathering to meet you. You’ll rarely see them assembled like this. I prefer they do their work out of sight.”

I slid a critical gaze at my uncle. Did he really talk about people like this?

None of the staff flinched. Their heads remained bowed. Not only was I moving into a small castle, apparently I had also been transported through time back to the nineteenth century.

“Should my nephew require anything, I trust you’ll see to it.”