First Impression (A Shadow Maven Paranormal) (7 page)

Mom’s face is frozen in a smile-grimace of confusion. She pulls out a pen and taps on her order sheet. “Okay…What will it be then?”

“I’m feeling like an Unsweet Tea and a Chicken Caesar Salad.” I say.

Ben sets down his menu and says, “That sounds good. Make it two? And it’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Kelly.”

He smiles at her sweetly, and his voice takes on that smooth deep tone that rings me to the core.

And from my mother’s stutter, I wonder if it affects her, too. “Thank you, Ben. It’s nice to meet you, too. But actually, it’s Grimes. Janet Grimes.”

Without missing a beat, Ben bows his head gently. “A pleasure, Mrs. Grimes.”

I smile at my mom again and slide so that my back is to the window and put my feet up on my bench seat. Mr. Houser, the owner, passes with a nod and hello. And Annie, the other waitress, also stops by with a quick greeting.

“I’m guessing that you don’t come in here often with friends,” Ben says after my mom brings us the tea.

I mix a yellow pack of sweetener in mine and shake my head. “I really don’t have any friends. It’s always been me and Tasha against the world.”

He takes a sip of his tea. “But it seemed that Tasha had a few friends.”

I shrug. “They are all pretty superficial relationships. School buds, you know? The kind of person you hang out with a bit in class, but never really do anything with each other off school grounds.”

“And you don’t have many of those?”

I stir my tea. “None. In case you haven’t noticed, status matters at Jackson Hall. Can’t get much lower than the daughter of a diner waitress.” I don't mention my stepdad works at the school.

He nods. “I’m sure son of a gypsy might even be lower.”

I laugh. “You might have me there.”

My mom brings our salads, and we dig in for a while silently. I’m amazed at how the moment is comfortable, like we’ve done this a million times, and it’s just another meal together. Well, I guess it’s kind of been three times now.

“Dessert?” Mom asks, as she refills our teas.

“None for me. Thanks, Mrs. Grimes.” Ben answers. The trill of the ‘r’ in my mother’s las
t name betrays his mild accent.

Mom quirks an eyebrow my direction.

“That would defeat the whole purpose of having a salad for dinner, right?” I say.

“Well then, you two take your time and wave me over if you need another refill.” Mom leans toward me with a wink. “And I’ll just put this on your tab, ’K?”

I nod and glance out the window to the sparkling street. Steve is perched on the streetlamp just outside, his eyes intent on Ben. I shake my head. “So how did you get an owl?”

Ben’s eyes dart toward the streetlamp. He shrugs. “Brother Francisco raises barn owls to keep down the unwanted rodents and smaller birds in the village. When Steve was an owlet, he fell from his nest and broke a wing. Brother Francisco allowed me to nurse him back to health. He’s been following me around ever since.”

“Seriously?” My brows furrow. “But how did you bring him here from Portugal?”

He shrugged. “Connections.”

I sip my tea and watch the people passing by on the sidewalk. The number is increasing. At eight-thirty on a Friday night, it’s not unusual for party goers to get an early start. A man in a dark coat and black cap passes and it jogs my memory. “Earlier you said I was being followed. How did you know? And why would someone be following me?”

Ben’s gaze returns to the street outside. “Steve. He’s been following you.”

“You’re saying Steve is following me? Newsflash. He’s not a person.”

Those false brown eyes glare at me for a moment. “No, I didn’t mean it that way. I guess it’s because you keep showing up with me on the roof. Steve’s decided he likes you. So he’s been following you a bit. He…umm…let me know someone’s following you. And tonight I saw him.”

I frown. “This is so confusing, it’s blowing my mind. Steve
told
you that someone’s following me?”

Ben shrugs in a non-committal way.

“Your owl
talks
to you.”

The glare returns. “It’s not like you say. I’m not crazy. When you’ve lived with an animal a long time, they can…communicate. It’s not uncommon. Haven’t you ever seen Lassie?”

“That’s fiction.”

“Most fiction has a grain of truth in it.”

I shrug. All of this just seems so unreal. How much of the stories my dad used to read to me had a grain of truth in them?

“You’ve never had a pet have you?” he asks.

That stings. Like, literally, my heart aches from an unfulfilled wish. My voice comes out barely above a whisper. “When I was little my dad told me that he’d get me a puppy when I was old enough to take care of it.”

“What happened?”

I shake my head and take a deep breath. After I blow it out, my calm returns. “He’s gone. When it was just me and my mom, there was no way we could take care of a dog then. And now…there’s my stepdad. No pets allowed.”

He nods.

Then the silence grows awkward for a moment. How could it not? I take another deep breath. “So why? Why is someone following me?”

Ben’s gaze returns outside. “I don’t know yet. I’ve got a feeling, but until I know for certain I refuse to jump to conclusions.”

I stare for a moment, my turn to measure him. He seems honest, but do I really trust him with everything he’s said? I’m still not sure.

“Fair enough,” I say slowly. “Are you ready to go?”

He takes his tea and chugs the last bit. The ice in the glass clinks when he sets it down with a nod.

When we stop on the stoop of my brownstone, I find a moment of awkwardness. I don’t know what to do. I clear my throat. “This is me. Goodnight, I guess?”

Steve lands on the railing of my stoop, and his feathers shine in the pale light of the streetlamp overhead. I can’t help but marvel at his feathers. The iridescent way they catch the light reminds me of the kaleidoscope hidden beneath the plain brown lenses Ben wears.

“I guess Steve decided to say goodnight, too.” Ben laughs.

It's the first I've heard him laugh, and he sounds like an ordinary guy.  One of my hands reaches out for the bird, but just before my fingers brush against feathers, Steve hops away and takes flight. I flinch at the air pushed in my direction and then watch him until he lands on the building across the street.

“What are your plans for tomorrow?” Ben asks.

My heart and my stomach must start wrestling each other, because they both are flipping all over the place. I eloquently say, “Umm…”

“Visiting hours at the hospital aren’t until ten a.m. So I can come by here to walk you there at about nine-thirty if you’d like?” he asks.

“Wow. You’re really taking your job as bodyguard very seriously, aren’t you?” My voice is breathless, and I wonder if he can tell.

He shrugs.

“But it’ll be morning. Do you really think someone would follow me in broad daylight?”

His eyebrows knit together. “Actually, Steve indicated someone
was
following you in broad daylight. I followed him from the school to the hospital.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “I don’t understand. Why would anyone do that?”

His eyes meet mine, and his face turns serious. “A couple of girls have gone missing in Fairfax. Even though it’s a few counties away, any pretty young girl is a target. It wouldn’t take more motivation than that for a sick person to select you.”

Did he just call me pretty? My face flushes. And no words can make it pass my lips. Say something. Anything. Nope. Nada.

Ben takes a step back. “So nine-thirty tomorrow?”

Words still aren’t coming, so I nod.

He smiles, shoves his hands in his pockets, and starts back the way we came. A shadow moves across the light, and I watch Steve land upon his shoulder. They go in the same direction as when I saw them together the first time.
A silhouette against the buildings.

Saturday morning, my clothing is
strewn about my bed. What on earth do I wear? The sky outside isn’t helping. Steel grey clouds ripple toward the horizon, pregnant with rain that hasn’t been delivered yet. The temperature outside is unseasonably warm too, but once the rain pulls through, there’s an expected fifteen-degree drop. I fall backward on my brown duvet and chide myself. My best friend is in the hospital, and I’m more worried about the walk with a boy than seeing her?

Who is the boy-crazy one again? Maybe I’m channeling my inner Tasha? Still, I’m ashamed.

Fine.
Whatever.
I throw on jeans and a “Live Long and Prosper” t-shirt. Once my hair is whipped into my usual ponytail, I pull on a pink camouflage ball cap. If my lesbian rumor doesn’t chase away the boys, my geekiness does. I’m a nerd girl at heart.

It’s nine-twenty before I grab my rain jacket and umbrella and head out my bedroom door.

“Where are you going?” Rob, my stepdad, stands in the kitchen, his back to me. It’s late morning and he’s still in striped pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt.

“In case you hadn’t heard, my best friend is in the hospital. Visiting hours start at ten,” I say in passing, while I continue through the grey-tiled kitchen for the living room.

“What about your chores? You can’t keep living under my roof when you do nothing to contribute.”

I freeze right next to the back of the brown leather sofa. His roof? I seethe and can feel the heat rising up the back of my neck. How dare he? I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until I blow it out through my teeth. “Mom knows where I am, and I’ll see her at the diner later. We’ll clean up tomorrow like we do every Sunday.”

He hacks up half his lung. Although my mom doesn’t let him smoke in the house, he still reeks like an ashtray. Besides, he cheats and does it in the bathroom with the window open and the fan on. Like that helps. Maybe I should call him out on that?

The scruff on his face is a mixture of grey porcupine prickles. He sneers, eyeing me up and down. “That diner food isn’t doing you any favors. Even a fat man would rather marry a skinny woman.”

It couldn’t have hurt worse if he’d slapped me. You’d think I’d be used to his insults by now. My jaw clicks as my mouth clamps shut.

He smiles and begins whistling, like his day just got better. How does insulting me help lift his spirits so much?

Retaliating would only hurt my mother’s feelings. And she’s been through so much, continues to work so hard just to help me get where I am. She refused to let me get a job to help out because she wanted me to concentrate on my studies. I press my teeth together so hard they ache like I’ve eaten something sour. Besides, if I say anything at all, the tears will come and I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. It makes me feel so weak when I can’t control the water works. Without another word, I turn for the door.

I rush downstairs and outside, onto the stoop, crashing into a solid object on my way out. Pine and mint. I swallow hard.

“Um…Are you okay?” Ben asks.

I blink and push myself back but can only nod. I’m not ready for my voice to crack and betray me.

He steps back and eyes me. “Are you ready to go?”

Steve sits on the lamp post behind Ben. Amber-yellow eyes set in a pile of white and gold feathers. His beak is hidden, and it looks like that’s all he is for a moment, eyes and feathers. The wind picks up, and it smells like rain. Three younger kids rush up the steps and charge past me for the door to our complex. I grip the railing to let them by without a crash. Their joyful laughter feels wrong in this low pressure vacuum, and it’s ripped away by the wind.

I hop down the steps to the walk, and the scuff of Ben’s sneakers behind me lets me know he’s following. The wind makes my nose run harder, and I can’t help but sniffle it away. Stupid head cold.

The walk to the hospital is nothing like the romantic stroll I’d had in my head while getting dressed this morning. My pace is too fast because I’m trying to beat the rain. It’s just me, stomping ahead with my head low, and Ben following a few feet behind me. It’s like he understands that I need my space. When we get to the hospital, we head for the emergency entrance. I know there are other ways into the hospital, but the building’s so big I just want to go the direction I’m already familiar with.

An ambulance’s wailing siren breaks me from my fog. I rush to the curb to keep from getting run over. The automatic doors open behind me. Ben stops on the other side of the drive, the emergency vehicle between us. A paramedic leaps from the driver’s seat while the diesel engine continues to idle. He yells into the lobby while he’s running toward the back. “Code blue! Get the op ready!”

The rear doors swing open and another paramedic jumps out. The two of them grip the gurney and wheels drop down. I don’t want to watch—feel like I’m intruding. But I just can’t seem to rip my eyes away. When they rush past me, a shock of curly blond hair strikes me as familiar. I examine a little closer and discover I know the face beneath the oxygen mask. Donnie Price.

A red Mini Cooper pulls up behind the ambulance and Matt is out of the passenger seat before the car stops all the way. Jacob Sloan throws it in park and joins him. Both of them are pale and panicked. Their faces are in the same mask of horror they’d been the night we were at the Old Schoolhouse. The rain begins to pound against the overhang.

Ben passes me and rushes to his cousin’s side. “What’s going on?”

Matt’s jaw is still slack and his eyes are glassy. He looks at Ben, but his mind seems elsewhere. “It’s Donnie.”

Ben takes him by the shoulders and gives him a quick shake. “We know that. What’s going on?”

After blinking hard, Matt’s eyes focus and there are tears welling in the bottom of them. “We were meeting him to play
Call of Duty
, you know? But when we got there…he was…”

Jacob scrubs his hair with both hands like he’s going to rip it out. “He wouldn’t answer the door, so I tried the knob, and it was unlocked. We walked in and found him on the couch. He was passed out—I mean I thought he was passed out. But he wasn’t breathing. We called 911.”

Matt nods. “They got him breathing again, using CPR and those electric paddles. But they said he’d overdosed.”

“The hell he did. He doesn’t do drugs, man. He wouldn’t have done this!” Jacob yells, his hands clenched in fists and his jaw tense.

Matt flinches.

“I know that, man. But he’s been posting some weird stuff on Twitter. It’s like he was haunted or something.” His eyes fix on Ben. “Like that possession stuff you were talking about.”

Ben stiffens and shakes his head almost imperceptibly.

A shout in the emergency room lobby draws our attention, and we rush in. The paramedics are performing CPR on Donnie again, and the nurses and doctors rush around him in a blur. A white coated doctor approaches with a needle, but male nurse in blue scrubs stops us before we can get closer. “Stand back, kids. We need to give them some room.”

We take two steps back, but as if we’ve made a collective pact, we retreat no farther. After a several tense minutes of the group around Donnie shouting and struggling to pull the life back into him, the hope around the paramedics and nurse’s dwindle. The doctor checks the clock. “Time of death, ten twenty-two a.m.”