Ghost Shadow (Moon Shadow Series Book 4) (6 page)

Kyle’s limbs jerked with the broken melody, which wasn’t all bad because he swam faster. He contained himself too, but only because exhaustion had no doubt set in.

Chapter 6

Training someone to survive even their first day or two In Between was like digging a grave in weather that varied from a drizzling rain to ice cold sleet. Even without touching Kyle, the wave of his emotions smacked me with ice needles more often than not, but it didn’t matter. We had to run and run fast. I ignored his stress and kept us forging forward.

The demon may have been attracted to the area by Kyle’s grief, but with us floating away at full speed and hellhounds and mermaids contributing to the confusion, the scent of agony had to be dissipating. My emotions were tucked so tight not even I could find them.

Even after the sparks from hungry flames disappeared into the murk, we didn’t slow down.

When we were finally far enough away that the evil fiddle had faded to silence, we rested in a state nearer a coma than ghost.

The final leg of the journey exhausted me every bit as much as it hurt him, because hunting down the place in the weave where he could see his wife involved a lot of stopping to hide. The biggest difference was that I didn’t throw myself at the weave in despair when we arrived.

“Kyle!” I tried to stop him from crashing into the barrier, but was too late. “Way to turn your pain physical.” I sighed and spit out instructions. The weave wasn’t as thin here as it would have been had he died near his home. Luckily his link to his wife and the baby was strong enough that he could see them.

I talked, following a ritual we had for all newcomers. It was a waste of time, but I provided all the helpful hints for finding a shelter, surviving, and explained how he could find me later.

He didn’t care. I knew he wouldn’t. But I had no more left to give, and there was no point in staying. He’d swim against the weave, trying to break through; we all did. He’d probably see his own funeral from some half-stuck position in the weave if he didn’t splinter himself into tiny fragments. Eventually, he’d figure out how to float back together. Or not.

Slashed by the weave, his pain radiated along the edges of In Between instead of out into the gray where predators were more likely to hear or smell him. The line between worlds would help contain his emotions even as the weave threatened to destroy him. He may well be discovered and eaten, but there was nothing else to be done right now.

On the way back to my shelter I discovered Martin plucking bits of lichen from a rock. Or, since it was Martin, perhaps they were dead worms. No matter. If they had a spark of life, they would provide energy.

He broke out of his tuneless hum to ask after Kyle. “Get him settled?”

“Settled? Is that what this is?” I plopped down next to Martin’s hovering head and told him about the water, the hounds, and the mermaids. “Kyle is lucky he made it out of there.”

“You saw the River Styx? That could be another sign.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The River Styx. In Greek Mythology, it leads to the portal of hell. Of course, that isn’t the only river. The River Styx is actually a convergence of waterways, which implies there are other portals.”

“Yes, I’ve heard of Styx, but we were at a lake. Although since it had mermaids maybe it was an ocean.”

“The myths are riddles. They often leave out the most pertinent information.” Martin chuckled. “Imagine those who didn’t know a coin was required to cross the River Styx. Those people had no way to pay for passage and had to wander the shores...or worse.”

The myths weren’t the only thing that left out information. Martin was already several feet away and drifting fast. “Where are you going?”

“To the river, of course. Can’t let something like that go by without inspecting it.”

Figures. I describe a dangerous body of water filled with creatures likely to eat him, and he acted like it was a tourist attraction. I hadn’t even told him where it was located. Not that location was all that meaningful here. Martin would either stumble across it or he wouldn’t.

By the time I made it back to my own shelter, my form was as faded and distorted as if I had spent a week fighting the weave.

Troy was waiting for me just inside the cave, looking as bad as I felt. Whoever he had witnessed coming across must have required his help and a lot of energy.

Spook sat very close to Troy, guarding him fiercely. If that dog had been able to, he’d have merged his energy with Troy. I only wished I had something to offer him, but there hadn’t been much to harvest on my way back. The one or two sparks I’d seen had gone out instantly when I picked them up. They were so small, my ghost absorbed them like sugar dissolving in water.

“I think we should find Cinderspark,” Troy said.

“I know. Why did you wait for me? I’d have come looking for you sooner or later.”

Troy kept his head down, too tired to lift it. “I dunno. It’s what we were doing before we heard the call, and your place was closest after we were done watching the soul cross over.”

We sat, unmoving for a span of ghostly time. Whether it was a day, an hour or minutes didn’t matter. It was a form of rest and meditation. We didn’t need sleep, and we didn’t generate any real energy without an outside source, but it still helped.

Getting to his tree took longer than usual because we were both drained. Spook stayed close instead of testing the gray ahead. He walked between us, but it was impossible to say if he was offering me support or keeping me away from Troy. It wasn’t like I ever hung on Troy like Amy did. Even if we touched accidentally, I was always careful not to drain energy. I wasn’t some demon or ghoul feeding off of anything and everything.

The route we followed was familiar, which was both good and bad. While we could reach the tree faster, we weren’t likely to spot any energy unless we detoured close to the edges where something might have drifted through.

“Was the other death bad?” I asked.

Troy nodded. “It was awful, a little girl hit by a drunk driver. Thankfully, Martin showed up. He took care of her.”

“Oh, that is bad.” I was silent for a bit, contemplating. “I’m glad Martin was there.” But if Martin had been the one to help with the crossing, it begged the question of why Troy was so feathered out and weak.

Instead of offering an explanation, all he said was, “I was glad he showed up too.”

When we arrived at the juniper, he said, “I’m going to cross.”

“Now? Troy, you don’t look so good.”

“I don’t think I can wait for Cinderspark.”

Stress caused my face to thin. “What do I do? What if you get stuck? I can’t cross! You know I can’t!” Panic made my legs scrunch up into my chest cavity until I was a head sitting on a ball of foamy gray. The tree was his entry point, but go across? “It can’t be safe!”

“The animals do it. I’ve done it before. It’ll be okay.”

There was something special about the animals he helped. They were a merging of both sides, not just ordinary ghosts. Well, some were, but those were the ones that faded the quickest. The others stayed around Troy, keeping him company.

Before I could protest further, he said, “I was in a car accident. Maybe that’s why the little girl’s death hit me so hard.”

“What? That doesn’t make sense.” Watching someone die was hard, but I’d never been drained by a death. Then again, who was I to argue with Troy? When a child crossed over it was always more difficult. Children had so much life. They were huge, multicolored beacons, beautiful and precious lights. No matter how they came through, it was horribly sad. “What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing. Just be my backup. If it goes well, I’ll return with some energy. If it doesn’t...well, it will be fine. I’m sure of it.”

I followed far enough to watch his tired form as he approached his tree. Going to the other side could kill him. Even an attempt had to be painful, whether or not he was somehow attached to this portal.

When he touched the juniper, color burst out in a star pattern. His jeans suddenly turned a light blue, his hair darkened, and his high school football jacket glowed briefly before he was gone.

I held my breath, watching. Then I remembered I was supposed to be his backup. Color meant energy. If anything had noticed, trouble would arrive in a flash. The hounds weren’t likely to be attracted, especially by something so instantaneous and lacking in emotion, but there were other creatures to be feared In Between.

I edged closer to the gray branches and like Spook, began to inspect the surrounding boulders and shapes.

The flash of color had been brief. We probably weren’t in any more danger than usual.

Unable to help myself, I drifted next to the tree. There was no feeling of the edge of the bubble, no pressure, no weave. Close to the edge, the fog was always thick enough to see and feel. Here there was just a split trunk and gray limbs.

I put my hand out, but when it came in contact with the foggy bark, I remained as gray as ever. I was more transparent than usual, but I was tired and had no reserves.

The tree did not emit any energy. Its jagged, bent form easily blended with the surroundings. The driftwood side was shiny, and the sheen made it appear damp.

It was natural to want to run my hand along that smoothness, and for a moment, I forgot myself. I forgot that I couldn’t “feel” things like a living person. We ghosts could surround or push objects, but there was rarely real tactile feedback.

Surprisingly, the driftwood felt slick, but not slimy. There was a warmth to it that was not gray. Although my hand remained ghost, the colors around me darkened. Looking behind me, everything was gray. Peering down at the driftwood, I could see sparks like stars.

The darkness inside the tree was not unlike night. It smelled different too, now that I was touching the trunk. The tree held the rich scent of earth, something other than the gray of In Between.

I realized that the portal had remained open when Troy crossed. It probably wouldn’t close until he returned.

The colorless world was behind me, which meant there was something different in front of me. Warily, I stepped into the darkness, wondering if I’d be able to escape.

Well, you only live once, but you can die many times, many different ways.

Chapter 7

The darkness inside the trunk of the juniper was nothing like the weave. I drifted through the breezy blackness, very leery about what might be here. There was light ahead; probably the living world. I checked behind me to make sure the gray opening was still in sight. There was no need to be completely stupid.

There were rocks scattered alongside a path, mostly small pebbles resting on darker ground or tree roots. The area was more a tunnel than empty space, but if there was a ceiling, I couldn’t discern it.

The light source, when I reached it, was not the world of the living. It was a river. The beam of brightness flowed in and around roots, not radiating very far into the darkness. Streams of varying colors splashed along, with power surging like a heartbeat. The electricity rippled across my gray. The energy reminded me of Cinderspark’s wings; colors, light as air, pulsing in a steady stream.

Had I not thought of her then, I may not have seen her. She matched the mixing dance of light exactly, flickering in time with a silent music. She was color, but she was an unmoving pattern against the flow behind her.

Cinderspark was always a huge beacon of brightness. Being In Between had to be unnatural for her because she retained her youth, her beauty and her aliveness. When she flew, sparkles bounced off of her, and bluish-green swirls followed her like moving lights in a photograph. The sparks, if I caught them, would feed me. Troy called them fairy dust.

“Cinderspark?”

“What are you doing here?” Cinderspark’s wings reflected her namesake, shooting tiny bits of fairy dust in multiple directions. She was angry.

“I followed Troy. He came to visit dirt-side.”

Cinderspark frowned mightily. “If he came here searching for me, you can tell him I won’t be visiting anymore.”

“Oh no! Did you get in trouble?” Disappointment radiated from me. I quickly gathered it back.

Cinderspark sniffed, waving at the wisp of emotion that floated close to her. “No.”

“Oh, Cinder. He’s going to miss you. Me too,” I said. “He went dirt-side to ask you about the number of demons we’ve seen lately.”

Her wings stilled, but she didn’t fall. “Troy is different now. Something is wrong.” She fluttered back and forth, pacing. “The thing is, he’s there now, waiting as if he’s expecting roadkill. He used to only show up when there was roadkill, helping the animals across. But lately it’s as if he can’t tell when there is roadkill and when there isn’t. It’s all wrong!”

“What’s wrong? What is this place?” I asked. “Does this river belong to the fairies?”

Cinderspark giggled. The joy of it hit me gently. She shared it with no thought, and it required no effort on my part to gather it. Like a drink of water, it quenched.

“No, silly. It’s just a ley line. This one is much more accessible than most, because of,” she looked guiltily upward, into the dark. “Well, because of Troy.”

“Oh.”

“If he knows about the demons, why is he—” she stopped. “Have you seen the demons too?”

I nodded. “The last one I saw didn’t make it through. About two day cycles ago, maybe three. We were coming to ask you about it when we were called to help someone come across.”

Cinderspark stopped her fluttering again. She plopped on a rock that jutted out from the side of the cavern. “Troy used to help a lot of people across. He still helps the animals, but he doesn’t have the energy to do it properly most of the time. I thought I could help him.”

“You do help! Your energy is very special!” I spread my ghostly hands. There were no proper words for what Cinderspark provided.

Cinderspark shook her head. “I want to ask my mom what has happened to Troy, but if I did, she’d be very upset with me.”

“Because she’d find out you come here and forbid you to return?”