Twisted (25 page)

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Malice
.

The spirits floating around the cemetery appeared to be more active than usual. Their wispy trails of silvery white coasted around the headstones. It was an eerie sight and yet beautiful as well.

I preferred this end of the cemetery. It held the oldest graves. Therefore, it was relatively quiet. I was less likely to be disturbed by grieving family members. I had to take a gravel road to get to this entrance. The other gate, the main gate, was right off the main road that led out of the city.

I avoided that entrance. I didn’t want to deal with the people—living or dead—that frequented that end of the cemetery. I didn’t want to disturb the more recently departed. There was no need to. Not when I could perform my drop off just as well at this antiquated end.

There were many reasons why some spirits lingered near their graves while some moved on immediately. Perhaps it was a matter of personal preference, or maybe some people just weren’t willing to let go. As long as they lingered in the cemetery, I didn’t mind. It was only natural and almost expected.

It was the spirits that loitered elsewhere that inevitably caused problems. When a spirit separates from the body, when it leaves the natural
containment
of the body, it has a nasty habit of scattering in the most unpleasant way. It’s as if it loses pieces of itself. The spirit splinters and fades, eventually leaving only an angry, confused wraith behind.

The process could take weeks, months, or years. However, the closer the spirit stays to their earthly body, the slower the process. None of the spirits in the cemetery had begun to show the nasty qualities of a wraith. So I let them be.

Wraiths were problematic—troublemakers—and something that most humans found utterly terrifying. Their fear padded my bank account.

For a crisp fifty dollar bill, or a soggy fifty dollar bill for that matter, I trapped the pesky things.

“Are you going to get rid of that?” Daphne asked. Her tone oozed boredom.

“Give her a second, we just got here,” Finola chastised.

I put my car in park but let the key dangle from the ignition.

“I’ll be right back.” The large glass jar had been nestled in my lap. I picked it up, clutching it to my chest with one hand while I opened my car door with the other. The thick soles of my combat boots were silent against the damp grass.

The wrought iron gates of the cemetery were straight ahead. I veered to the left heading toward the thick copse of trees that lined this end of the graveyard. I purposefully made my way past the tree line. When I was a good distance from my car I knelt down, placing the jar on the ground. The wraith inside swirled languidly against its containment. I liked to think that it found comfort there. Like a baby, swaddled tightly and securely.

I traced a circle into the soft, damp earth with my finger, just a few inches larger than the circumference of the jar. Next, I moved the jar aside. I felt my fingers tingle with anticipation.

The familiar hum of elemental magic surged up through my core. It hummed down my arm, releasing through my outstretched palm. The dirt within the circle popped out of the ground like a cork. I placed the charmed jar inside before shuffling the dirt back over the top of it.

Satisfied that my job was completed, I hurried out of the woods.

Daphne grinned at me through the passenger side window of my Aquamarine, ’65 Mercury Comet. No auto locks for me, not on a car this old. It had good old fashioned window cranks and the only musical option was the radio. Nevertheless, I loved the car. My best friend, Tristan, had found it for me in the
Granite Falls Chronicle
. He’d shown it to me as a joke. He had no idea that I’d love the quirkiness of the car. Even more than that, I loved that it was within my price range. The reason it was within my price range was because it had just a bit of rust here and there…and, well, to be honest the rust was actually everywhere.

But rust could be dealt with eventually. I was saving money to put toward a restoration.
Only forty or so more wraith captures and I’d finally be there
, I thought with a weary sigh.

In the meantime, it ran like a charm. As long as it got me to where I needed to go, that was good enough for me.

I settled back into the driver’s seat.

“Now where to?” Daphne asked. She tossed her chocolate cherry colored locks over her shoulder as she turned to look at me. Her pale, icy blue eyes sparkled. She was always up for an adventure. But it was a school night and I had a test in the morning. Not to mention, as far as I knew, there were no adventures to be had.

Finola sat forward, her curtain of shiny blond curls swung between the seats. “I thought we were going to Samara’s.” Unlike Daphne’s pale blue eyes, Finola’s were a shade so dark they reminded me of the sky at twilight.

Of the three of us, I was the plain one. Average height. Average build. Straight brown hair and uninteresting brown eyes.

I was neither ugly nor a knockout. I was just…
me
.

“We can go to my house,” I agreed.

“Xavier invited some people over tonight. Maybe we could go back to my house,” Daphne said. Her tone was hopeful. Xavier was her twin brother. Along with having their infuriatingly perfect features in common, they also both loved being in the midst of lots of people.

Finola groaned and I snickered at her lack of enthusiasm.

Daphne stomped her foot against my floorboard in a playful pout. “Do you know how long we sat in the car waiting for you to catch that…
thing
?”

“Seventeen minutes,” I said proudly. There was a time when it had taken me an hour or more. But now, after a year, I had ironed out a trick or two. For example, put a sparkly bauble in a glass sphere and the wraith usually couldn’t resist.

“Samara!” A streak of emerald green sizzled through the air, hitting me in the forehead. It was Daphne’s version of snapping her fingers to get my attention.

“What?” I asked, wincing as I scrubbed the subtle sting away with my palm.

“The beach?”

I glanced at Finola in the rearview mirror. She sighed, her shoulders sagging in resignation. “Sure. Fine. The beach.”

I started my car and backed out of the gravel drive, onto the gravel country road.

Daphne and Xavier’s parents owned a lovely home right on the ocean. Both brother and sister were prone to throwing impromptu semi-parties. Tonight was the perfect night for it. The sun was just setting but the sky was crystal clear. Before long, the sky was going to be sprinkled with a billion twinkling stars. The air was still warm enough to go without a jacket.

Daphne swung around in her seat. She wore a teasing smile aimed at Finola. “Oh, Fin, Xavier mentioned that a certain person of interest might be there.”

Finola shrugged but her eyebrow twitch gave her away.

“Not Alex?” I moaned, instantly regretting it when I saw the look of hurt dash across Finola’s features. “I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I just think you could do so much better than him.”

“He can’t help what he is,” Finola said quietly. “He can’t help it anymore than Tristan can help being so…ordinary.”

Her words didn’t come out sounding like an insult. They sounded more like an apology. While I didn’t like Alex, Finola and Tristan got along just fine.

I wanted to argue. There was no comparison between Tristan and Alex. But I thought better of it. I knew from past experience that pointing that out would get us nowhere.

Finola, however, didn’t seem ready to let it go.

“What Alex can do and what you
just did
,” I knew she was referring to the wraith, “are not all that different.”

“It’s
so
not the same thing,” I argued. “I put displaced souls to rest. He takes them out and plays with them.”

Finola blanched at my crass word choice and I winced repentantly. The wraiths that I placed in the ground were too far gone to be saved. At best, I saved the families that they haunted from any more torment. But Alex, what he was capable of was so very different from that.

“Put away the claws, girls,” Daphne said lightly. “I thought we’d called a truce on Alex. We all agreed to disagree.”

“I don’t think that’s good enough anymore,” Finola said. Her firm tone surprised me. Usually she was so easygoing. “I like him. I mean, I
really
like him. And you two? You’re supposed to be my best friends. You should support me. Because let’s be honest here,” she said hotly, “if the combat boot was on the other foot, you’d be fully expecting
me
to support
you
.”

“I think she’s talking to you,” Daphne said under her breath. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in those boots of yours.” She raised her sandaled foot for proof and wiggled a perfectly manicured set of toenails at me.

I rolled my eyes.

Daphne squirmed around in her seat again.

“You’re right, Fin. I concede. I withdraw my stance on Mr. Tall Blond and Creepy,” she said.

I squashed down a groan. While Daphne had never been quite as opposed to Alex as I was, she had been opposed. She’d been my ally. Now she was giving in?

“Thank you, I think,” Finola muttered.

Daphne shrugged. “As a teenager, it is your right, maybe even your duty, to make questionable decisions. So as one of your best friends, who am I to stop you?”

I wasn’t going to give my blessing so I said nothing.

I just hoped she’d figure out sooner rather later that Alex was no good for her.

In fact, as far as I was concerned, Alex was no good.

Period.

~*~*~

“Why are you looking around?” Daphne demanded. “You know he’s not here.”

I pulled my eyes away from the clusters of people that dotted the beach. There were people meandering about while others stood, talking in groups. I didn’t think it would qualify as a party. More like a small get-together. All of the faces were familiar. They were either friends or acquaintances from school.

“I’m not looking for anyone,” I said as I gave her shoulder a nudge. It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly. It was more that I was living comfortably in a state of denial. I preferred to stay there without my two best friends constantly trying to jolt me out of it.

“She’s right,” Finola quietly agreed. “Tristan would never be here.”

I turned to face her. The sand shifted under my feet.

“I’m not looking for Tristan.” Maybe I was a liar after all. And possibly I was being kind of ridiculous. She was right. Tristan would never be here. So why was I bothering to look? I could blame it on wishful thinking or being recklessly optimistic.

I braced myself, waiting for them to press me on the matter. Instead, Finola let out a breathy sigh.

“Alex is here,” she whispered to no one in particular. She turned to face us. “Do I look okay?” She ran a hand through her massive halo of curls. It was a futile attempt to tame them.

“You look as adorable as always,” Daphne told her with a reassuring smile.

Finola’s eyebrows puckered. I had a hunch ‘adorable’ was not the look that she was going for.

“Why does it matter?” I teased, grateful to have the topic turned away from me. “It’s not like you’ll ever go talk to him.”

The flames of the bonfire cast shadows that flickered across Finola’s face. She let out a little huff of annoyance. A breeze blew in off the crashing waves. It floated a lock of hair across her cheek. She resolutely swiped it away as her expression rearranged itself into one of determination.

She took a little breath, squared her shoulders, zeroed in an Alex’s lanky frame and headed his way.

“I don’t believe it,” Daphne muttered under her breath.

We both pivoted so we could watch our friend. The waves danced against the shore behind us. Alex was standing with two other guys, classmates of ours. The closer Finola got to him, the slower her feet moved.

I let out a sympathetic groan.

Alex glanced her way and Finola took a sharp turn to the right.

“Oh, Fin,” Daphne said as she shook her head.

We watched as she approached a group of girls, most of them part of Xavier’s entourage.

“So close,” I wryly said.

“And yet so very far,” Daphne finished for me.

“I need to stop giving her such a hard time about him,” I admitted.

“What? Are you seriously coming around? Did you decide he’s not that bad?” Daphne raised her eyebrows in surprise.

I scowled at her. “No. But she can’t even talk to him. He’s never going to have a clue how she feels.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk,” Daphne said with an eye roll. “How many years has this unrequited crush of yours gone on?”

“Tristan and I are just friends,” I said irritably.

“Exactly,” she mumbled. “Unless you finally own up to your feelings, that’s all you’ll ever be.”

She looped her arm through mine, having obviously tired of the conversation.