Chasing Shadow (Shadow Puppeteer) (11 page)

I forgot to ask Starr to pick me up early so I could catch breakfast. At least I could shower in the girl’s locker room. Physical education was my first class. I threw clean clothes into my backpack and pushed the trap door open to a beautiful, foggy morning just below.

I took a deep breath of the autumn rot and started down the rope, realizing halfway down that nothing hurt. My bruised tailbone and my wrist were the real surprise, but it would take a great deal of the day to stretch the wariness from my body.

“Looks like you made it through the night.”

I swung around to face Rex. His smile was aggravatingly smug.

“You followed me?”

“I had to make sure you were safe.”

I looked away from him, even more embarrassed. I didn’t like when people caught me in such a vulnerable mood.

“I brought you something.” He winced as he tossed me the bag.

He wasn’t hurt when I left. I couldn’t help but wonder if he had a new scar under his dark shirt. Something happened last night that gave him reason to camp under my tree.

My catch was sloppy, but I wasn’t trying to earn points. I just wanted to survive. The cushy bag consisted of a brown skirt, white top and a brown corduroy jacket which I left hanging over my guitar.

“You went into my house? You went through my closet?” I asked.

“I’m capable of sneaking around too.”

Something made the pocket stuffy so I opened it up and nearly died. Panties! He went through my drawer and got me clean panties. I really hope he didn’t snoop or he’d have found a picture of the two of us. I didn’t want him to think I idealized our relationship.

“I have some of your other things in hiding. You can grab them after school,” he said.

I asked the question that weighed heavily on my mind. “Did you see Miss Sable? Is she okay?”

“She looked fine through the window. I had to wait for her to go upstairs before I snuck into the house,” he admitted. After a long pause, he added, “Sonya’s got men passing regularly by your house.”

That gave me some relief. I was worried they had hauled her off and abused her, or worse, killed her.

“You can change behind a tree. No one is out here with us,” he said. Humor made his eyes golden.

I glanced up at the tree house, but honestly, I had no energy to climb the rope. “Don’t peep, okay?”

I’m very self-conscious about my scars. When I’m naked in front of guys, I prefer the dark. My fear of the dark didn’t lift by any measure when I was with someone, but sometimes that person could help me forget it. My craving for touch was more overwhelming than my fear. Sometimes it was so important to be touched, that I didn’t care who did the touching.

There was a lot I wanted to get off my chest and with Rex silently waiting, it felt like a good time to speak.

“I saw a man die on my way back from Xyla.”

“I’m sorry.” He was sincere.

“It didn’t feel real and now I can’t get it out of my head. I see him when I close my eyes.” I also saw Starr’s doppelganger, which was equally as frightening, but my sorrow was getting the better of me.

I had every intention of changing quickly, but stopped when I noticed my cuts from last night were healed under the crusted blood. Even the bruising was gone.

“Hopefully it’s something you’ll never have to get use to,” he said. This time the sorrow was all his. I wanted to ask about his experience with death, but the moment passed when he changed the subject. “Hurry up, I brought you some food.”

At the promise of food, I changed so quickly that my skirt could be on backwards for all I cared. As promised, he threw me a lunch pail. I unsnapped it and immediately forgave him for going through my bedroom. There were two large blueberry muffins with powder on the bulbous head, a travel size orange juice, grapes, apple and a bag of animal cookies.

“I love you.” I blurted around a muffin. I wasn’t so deep into my food that I didn’t realize what passed my lips.

He coughed, looking uncomfortable.

“Uh— thanks.” I mumbled.

“You’re welcome.”

Near starvation can lead to major greed. I was grateful to have both muffins to myself. When the gradual hunger faded; I was ate the second one more slowly.

“I want to look at your arm,” he said.

Testing for soreness, I bent and rotated it, and then made a fist before letting the muscle relax. It felt good. I allowed him to unwrap it as I continued to eat.

His hands were strong and warm, peeling the gauze into a ball so that it wouldn’t touch the ground. When the last of it gave way to my skin, it took a moment to realize my wrist healed around the wiry, black stitches poking out of porcelain pale flesh. That pale shade started at my wrist and ended an inch from the bend of my elbow with two black rings that were half an inch apart from each other. It was the oddest thing I’d seen.

I licked my fingers and rubbed at the marks. They weren’t going anywhere. This was now part of my skin.

“What happened?” Panic made my voice thin. The wound was completely healed. There was absolutely no scar, but this wasn’t any better.

Rex lightly squeezed my arm. “Is it sensitive?”

“No, it’s just weird.”

Rex stopped me from pulling my sleeve back down and brought my wrist to his nose. I studied his face for disgust, but his features remained neutral.

“Your natural scent hasn’t changed. Whatever you are, this is just a part of it coming through. Maybe your current body is a mask and it’s finally found a way to break free.”

This body was possibly a mask? I could barely conceive it. I raised my hand to my nose and took a sniff. My skin didn’t smell putrid like the doppelganger.

“What creature is related to stone, because that’s what it looks like I’m becoming?”

“Medusa,” he offered.

“Could I be related to Medusa?”

His chuckle was comforting. “No, you aren’t a Gorgon and your skin isn’t turning to stone. Nor is Medusa stone, she turns men into stone with her eyes.” He gave my forearm a gentle squeeze to prove his point. “Medusa is Greek Mythology. She has a woman’s upper body and snakes for hair. When you look her directly in the eyes, you turn to stone.”

“Is she real?” I wouldn’t have asked that a week ago, but reality now was questionable.

He frowned.

“Is she real?” I asked again and then answered my own question. “Why wouldn’t she be? If all sorts of things exist on this planet, why couldn’t she be real?”

I stopped myself from rambling long enough to realize that Rex was still holding my arm. In fact, he stood very close and we were alone… I think. I wasn’t going to ruin the moment by looking for Amber. Did he love her or was this pack business?

The moment grew awkward, so I broke the silence.

“You said Greek Mythology? Where did you read about it?”

Our libraries and Internet weren’t equipped with subjects outside of science, math and the geography of our home country. I really liked science, but even that was limited after seeing that disk in Draken’s hands last night. World Congress was holding out on us.

“We have a library at the barn with novels that our elders have passed on from previous generation. My favorite books were on Greek Mythology,” he said.

He pulled out his pocket knife as he spoke and I dug my feet into the ground to keep from jerking out of his grip. It tickled as he pulled the stitches from my skin. Despite the tiny holes where the stitches were, the skin was freakish in color.

“What are your pack politics?” I asked.

“This next summer, I’m eligible to compete for alpha. No one has challenged our alpha in a long time. He gets off the hook, but I know he’s responsible for a number of pack members’ deaths,” Rex said. He absently itched at a spot on his side that I remembered being scarred.

“And why does it matter who you’re dating?” I asked.

“I started the relationship under false pretenses and if I die this summer, I don’t want you asking questions that would bring trouble to your door,” he said.

“So what now?”

“We go to school so I don’t have to sit here in the woods all day babysitting,” he said.

It was nice knowing that was an option. Now that I ate, I was willing to tough out the cold here in the forest away from patrollers who might want to scan the back of my ear. I voiced my concern to Rex.

“That could complicate matters,” he admitted.

The wind kicked up, making me rethink my plans. It was too cold to stay.

I stood. “On second thought, let’s go.”

“If something goes wrong, I’m not sure what I can do to help,” he said. He was conflicted, which spoke volumes. He still had feelings for me.

“I’ve taken care of myself this long. I’ll be fine a little longer,” I said.

He stood and stretched. “Starr’s coming.”

I held my breath and listened to the distant motor coming up the road.

“Do you want to catch a ride with us?” I asked.

“No. Just go so I can get back to the farm and get ready for school.”

“I’ll see you then,” I said and started towards the road.

When I glanced back, he was gone.

I
looked over my shoulder the entire day expecting Draken or some other man in blue to show up for me, but no one did. My anxiety was turning to paranoia.

Amber kept her distance, but Rex was never far away. They were both seniors and neither had classes near me. Rex was going out of his way to watch me.

When the last bell rang, I was too pent up to be relieved. I’d been high on adrenaline all day waiting for something to happen. I was utterly exhausted from the lack of excitement, but at least I wasn’t hungry.

“Hey Raggedy, I was asked to drop off a message.”

I recognized the freshman from the soccer field. As much as I hated that name, there wasn’t anything malicious behind it. Maybe he thought it was a nickname. I took the folded paper from him expecting a message from Rex since soccer was his crowd, but it was in Starr’s flowery handwriting.

Hey Bel, go on without me, I’ll see you tonight.

I stuck her letter in my back pocket and started down the steps. I didn’t see Rex and it didn’t look like Amber stuck around either. The halls cleared and despite the thick gray clouds hanging low in the sky, there was enough sun peeking through to brighten my internal gloom. I should get back to the tree house, but I had a little extra money in my backpack and craved something sweet from the candy shop.

The tourists in tropical shirts were out in full force. Their excitement was addictive, but their chatter was annoying. They inconveniently crowded the sidewalk and spilled into the street, snapping photos of anything and everything.

All of these nuisances were washed away by the smell of warm melted chocolate. The very essence curled my toes in pleasure. I slid into the long line behind a tourist with three very young kids. I was prepared for a very long and boring wait when music caught my attention.

It was a string instrument, with tight, precise notes. The sound buried so deep within my brain, striking that same spot that craved the chocolate in Gil’s store. I could
smell
the music the same way I could
smell
the chocolate. It made me hungry and I tried to breathe it in, but it was only air.

Air with notes that were so solid I could feel it wrapping around me—

I sucked in those sounds, hoarding them, painfully greedy of their worth as I left the line to find the musician. I’d never heard music like this. Strings were hitting notes that weren’t possible.

It felt like a familiar song, something I heard before, but that was impossible. I’d remember a song like this. The music stopped and I was rattled back to reality. The noise level on the street rose in volume as if the music had previously canceled it.

I knew the moment I saw him sitting there with his long legs stretched out in front of him that the vagabond was responsible for the music. Up close, he was a dirty man wearing dusty, worn clothes hugging a narrow torso. His hair was as white as wedding lace falling over his lean shoulders, but from his shoulders down to his waist, his hair was a vibrant blue.

A large feather dyed three shades of blue stuck out of his large cowboy hat. The brim kept his face hidden and brought focus to his metallic blue nails strumming the cords of the guitar. There was ink on his knuckles, but I couldn’t read the symbols. He splayed his hand over the cords creating the music.

People stepped over his legs without breaking stride. Not once did they look down to see the man. Being this close, I felt the energy that surrounded him. It surrounded me too. No one could see us.

His fingers strummed the cords, waiting for me to say something.

“I like your music. Do you give lessons?”

“I’m not playing for the world to hear,” he said. His deep tone was smooth; his accent wasn’t familiar.

That little voice that served as a conscience said there was something very off about him. Hefting my backpack on my shoulders, I turned to leave, but he caught my wrist with his long skeletal fingers. His skin was so thin that he was almost transparent. His fingers felt like chiseled icicles with coldness that burned right through my coat.

“This song isn’t for you. You shouldn’t hear it.”

He tilted his head back to look at me, I was caught in the shades of blue that passed in his eyes like a kaleidoscope. I was lost in those eyes, wading farther to sea. I was going to drown and pleasantly so. His face was skeletal, the skin hugged high cheekbones and a slender neck, yet there was beauty to him.

I was released from that gaze when he slid mirrored sunglasses over his eyes.

“Who are you?” he asked.

He let my arm go, but the coldness made my skin pulse. His attention now focused on his guitar as he lovingly placed it into the worn case. The moment the case was closed, energy popped. Now that the magic wasn’t controlling the crowd, people started filling the sidewalk. It was like they didn’t see this really tall, thin man with blue hair carrying a guitar.

“Obviously not the person
you’re
looking for,” I answered.

What’s in a name? Everything. A spoken name could give a great deal of control to another.