Bone Dry: A Soul Shamans Novel (Volume 1) (24 page)

Until I took part of someone’s life.

I rang Mr. Baker’s bell and peered into the tiny slits of windows on either side of the door, fidgeting with my backpack strap while we waited. I’d never been too worried about people my age thinking the things I did was weird. But the thought of boneshaking in an adult’s room made me feel like I had to perform karaoke in a clown suit.

After a couple of moments, Laura rang the doorbell again.

“Maybe he’s not home,” she said after another moment had passed.

I cocked my head and listened. “No, hear that? His TV is on, and all the lights are on.” I peered into the window again. “His keys are sitting on the table right there.”

Laura looked inside, eyes squinting. “Yeah, you’re right.”

I hefted my backpack higher on my shoulder, and something in my belly nibbled at my insides. My scalp prickled, the cool night air raising the hair on the back of my neck. Then, the world seemed to slow, like it had at Brent’s house, and a heavy headache settled on my eyes.

“Something is wrong,” I said. “Something in the air. It feels off.”

Laura’s eyes met mine, wide and unblinking. “Does your head hurt?”

“Yeah.” I rubbed my forehead between my eyes, knowing that wouldn’t help a thing. This was no normal headache. Normal ones don’t come complete with goosebumps and a certainty that something is
wrong
.

“Since when did you get your Intuition?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Just now, maybe?” I thought back to the uneasy feeling I’d had a split second before we’d gotten attacked at Brent’s house. “I think I sort of felt it yesterday, too, but this is the first time I got the headache.”

Laura pushed her hair behind her ear and scrunched up her nose. “I’m jealous.”

I wasn’t so sure she should be. Intuition was something my mom had told us about because it was one part of the magic she was eager for us to learn. It meant we could sense when something around us wasn’t right. Even if it had nothing to do with shamanism. She’d told us it came with time and practice of magic, and that we probably wouldn’t come into it until we were older. She’d said the only way we’d get it now was if we were to practice really strong magic, and the only explanation I could think of for why it was showing up early: summoning a spirit onto my neighbor.

The something-is-wrong feeling intensified with a pang in my skull when I knocked on the door and my fingers came into contact with the wood.

“I think we should go inside,” I said.

“What if the shamans are in there?” Laura shifted from foot to foot like she was bracing to run at any moment’s notice.

“I don't think they are,” I said. “Nathan’s following them. He would have called.”

I tried the doorknob, but it was locked. The bolts were strong. I could tell by looking at the thick brass of the keyholes.

“Come on,” I said, jogging down the curving, stone steps. “Let's go around back.”

We slipped into the shadows and made our way to the back. A few yards away, ominous-looking waves rushed against the shore, white foam glistening under the moon. A part of me wanted to stop and stare, make my way down the beach to sit in the sand and let all my worries drift out to sea. Before Mom got attacked, I loved going to the beach at night. There was something about the dark carpet that stretched out as far as I could see, the cool spray landing on my cheeks, and the way the midnight silence drowned under the rushing waves. It was eerie and beautiful at the same time.

But instead, I shook my head and turned, walking through a maze of shrubs. The back door was hidden between two spiraling rose bushes. We only discovered it by following the trail of small square stones that weaved through a cluster of plant-life. The basic door looked much easier to break into. It had a simple lock with no deadbolt. I used my lock pick to twist it open in only a few seconds. I was always amazed by the lack of security houses have in the back, the place where most true burglars would try to break in.

Daddy would be so proud.

I shut the door quietly behind me and held a finger over my lips. I didn’t think the shamans were here, but I didn’t want to take any chances on them hearing me if I was wrong.

I’d been wrong about things before. I wasn’t about to count on my newly-found Intuition to be perfect.

The laundry room we entered was dark and silent and smelled starchy clean. We moved past it and into a short, thin hallway leading to the rest of the house. An explosion sounded from somewhere nearby where the television blasted through surround-sound speakers. I pointed up at the high ceiling and strode down the hall like I knew exactly where I was going, like I’d been in the house before. I found the entryway easily and raced up the stairs, the wooden boards creaking under my sneakers.

I went into the first room I saw. The door was open, overhead light on.

There was a body in the middle of the floor, unmoving, eyes open, mouth open in a silent scream. I staggered back and slammed into Laura. She gasped, a choking noise escaping from her throat.

The earth seemed to tilt under my feet, and then I realized I’d fallen to my knees. My body shivered from shock.

The body was Charles Baker. He was dead.

My fingers reached toward his forehead.

“Don't touch him.” Laura gripped my arm and pulled me back. I shook her off and reached out again. When I touched him, I jerked away, my fingers burning from the frost on his skin. He was a block of ice, like someone had stuck him in a meat freezer.

“A spirit did this,” I said, pointing at the rune just a few feet from where Mr. Baker had fallen.

As soon as I said it, the temperature dropped ten degrees.

“It’s still here,” Laura whispered.

And I could smell the fear in the room. Laura and I reeked of it. Someone else did, too, and I realized it was Mr. Baker’s fear left behind. It still lingered in the air like fog. I knew we should banish the spirit now. Show it we were serious shamans. If we left, we’d be showing weakness.

“Holly.” The fear in Laura’s voice went up a notch. I looked where she pointed. A landline phone lay inches from Mr. Baker’s outstretched fingers. I crawled over to it; my knees knocked against the floor. The call display showed “911” and the seconds were still ticking by. The call had been connected for fifteen minutes.

I met Laura’s eyes from across the room. What would the cops think if they found us here with this body? Did we have an explanation they’d believe? Our fingerprints were on the doorknob downstairs, on the banister of the staircase, on the hardwood floor where we were kneeling.

I jumped back, bundled my shirt in my fist and started scrubbing at the floor.

“What do we do?” Laura asked.

I stopped rubbing when the hair on the back of my neck stood on end again, my Intuition warning me of some new unseen danger. My head throbbed. Once. Twice. I gritted my teeth at the pain.

Sudden banging jolted both of us off the floor. There was yelling and the stomping of feet. Laura and I stood frozen by Mr. Baker’s body while the footsteps drew closer, a pitter-pattering that left my blood cold. Colder than it already was due to the presence of the spirit in the room.

Cops burst through the door, took one look at us and the body on the floor, and drew their guns. My hands flew up immediately in the universal symbol for don’t shoot.

“We found him,” Laura managed to squeak out.

Some EMTs showed up behind the cops, and we were ushered downstairs and outside where another cop asked us what we were doing at this house. Why we were near this body. Laura tried sputtering an explanation. Something about finding him. How had we gotten in? How long had we been there? In my confusion, I said something about coming in through the back door—big mistake.

The cop had both of us turn around and put our hands behind our back. When steel rings clicked around my wrists, I felt all the blood drain from my face. I couldn’t believe what was happening to me. I was getting arrested. Something in the back of my mind told me I deserved it—the angel I was so intent on ignoring. It told me I should have known listening to the devil would get me in handcuffs.

I closed my eyes, hoping to turn off the thoughts piling on top of each other in my mind. Turn off the shame I felt. The utter humiliation that only strengthened by being guided into the back of the cop car. Laura slid in on the leather next to me. We stared at each other, silent. Neither of us had words to say.

What were they going to charge us with? Breaking and entering? Or did they think we’d killed Mr. Baker?

Chills coursed through me, and I leaned forward, doubling over on myself, pulling in tight. I didn’t want to think about what that might mean for our future. There couldn’t be enough evidence to convince anyone we’d done anything more than break in. They couldn’t charge us with murder.

They couldn’t. They couldn’t. They couldn’t
.

I repeated the words in my head until Laura’s soft voice broke through my thoughts, forcing me back to reality.

“Everything is gonna be alright.” Her voice was soft, singing my favorite song. “Everything is gonna be alright.”

“Everything is gonna be alright. Be strong, believe.” My own voice was husky, but just singing the words aloud made me feel a little better. A little stronger.

I said it again, not really singing, just whispering the words in the car. It might not be true, but maybe saying them would make our world okay. I had to believe it could, at least.

An hour later, I sat alone in a cell at the county jail. In the drunk tank, even though I’d never been more sober. I shifted on the flimsy cot and stared at the dirty spots on the floor, wishing I didn’t have to use the bathroom. There was a toilet on the other side of a half-wall, but the cell across from me held a guy who looked like he was in his twenties. He was drunk and watching me from behind the bars.

I'd never felt more humiliated in my life. Not even passing out on Nathan came close.

Nathan
. I wondered what he was doing, if he was worried, if he was okay. My forehead fell into my hands; my hair felt dull and greasy. He’d know something was wrong when he couldn’t get ahold of me or Laura. I hoped he wouldn’t do anything stupid like try to approach the shamans, thinking we’d been caught. My heart lurched in my chest. I wished I could see his smile right now, laugh at his silly jokes. If anyone could make me feel better, it’d be him.

I groaned. I never thought something like this could happen to me, that I’d ever be on the wrong side of the law. Yeah, I’d broken into a few houses, picked a few locks, driven over the speed limit. But I never thought I’d be arrested. I never felt like I was ever doing anything so wrong that I needed to be locked up while I waited for my turn to be fingerprinted.

Would this haunt me for the rest of my life?

I caved in and used the bathroom behind the half-wall, trying desperately to duck low enough so no one could see me. When I was done and heading back over to my cot, the guy across from me whistled. I didn’t look, didn’t even flinch. I kept my face stony so he couldn’t see how hard my heart was pounding in my chest.

This might be the worst thing to ever happen to me, second only to finding Mom’s vacant body earlier tonight, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to let anyone see how much I hurt. I felt like I was five years old again. I wanted my mommy, but I didn’t want to see the look on her face when she found out I’d gotten thrown into jail. She'd never looked at my dad the same way after his botched attempt at breaking into a historic Bostonian home. Before, she always had a smile in her eyes when she saw him. But when he’d started using his shaman magic for theft, a crack split their foundation until it grew into a cavern neither could ever cross again. When I finally got her back, I wondered if she would be able to look at me the same again or if the cavern would swallow me whole.

CHAPTER 25

S
omething tumbled, and I jerked awake to find my chin resting on my chest and drool dribbling down my lip. I wiped it away and watched the cop open up my cell. After I’d gone through the humiliating task of getting my fingerprints made and my mug shot taken, I’d sat on the cot staring at the wall, and I must have fallen asleep.

I hadn’t wanted to fall asleep in here.

“Holly Bennett, come along,” she said, her hand resting on the stick at her waist.

I stood and shuffled out behind her in the strange Croc-like shoes they’d given me when booking me into the jail. We walked down the hallway past the curious faces of the other recently-booked. I saw Laura up ahead of us, following another cop. I wondered how long we’d been here and what time it was.

My entire insides felt numb.

When we got into the room where I’d been booked, a cop roughly handed me my belongings and my shoes and told me to go outside where my ride was waiting for me. I checked my backpack. My money was still there. My cell showed six missed calls and two un-read text messages. At a quick glance, I saw they were all from Nathan. I sucked in a sharp breath. Had he gotten hurt?

Holly, are you ok? Call me?

Freaking out. Where are you guys?