Dead Living (Spirit Caller Book 5) (12 page)

He shoved his phone into his pocket. “Voice mail.”

I lifted an eyebrow.

“What? Javier asked her.”

I glared at Javier. “You asked
Irene O’Toole
to help?” He walked to the parking lot just up the small incline. I jogged to keep up with him.

“Rachel, we’re in a hurry.”

“I don’t care, Javier. You don’t get to bring Irene freaking O’Toole into my private life without asking me first. Do you understand?”

“Sorry, Rachel,” Manny said.

I turned to face Manny. “I’m not upset with you. I’m upset with Javier. You know better!”

Javier spun around. “I’m trying to get you as far away from here as I can.”

I huffed out a rude, “Fine,” and waited for Jeremy to catch up. He’d lagged behind because he is very particular about boat knots and was most likely showing Isabella how to do a proper knot, ignoring that there is something so crazy about to happen that Javier needed a hundred people to back him up.

I mean, that night, we just had Javier.

And Jeremy was shot.

Multiple times.

With a gun.

This time, Javier needed help.

“Are they going to drop nukes on us?” I asked.

“What?”

I gave Javier a shrug. “Well, they just sent you the last time. Why do you need a mini-army this time? Are they going to nuke us?”

In a very patient voice, Javier said, “No, Rachel. They are not going to drop nuclear weapons on us.”

Even though my stomach churned and rolled with the worry and anxiety of not knowing what was in our immediate future, I managed to force a wry smile. “Well, then, Mr. Javier. It can’t be that much of an emergency.”

Javier smiled, even though I was pretty darn sure that was making him more annoyed with me. He motioned at a white van with rental plates. Misty Monroe would
not
have approved. We wouldn’t even be inconspicuous in this monstrosity!

I eyed the vehicle. “How were we supposed to make a speedy getaway in a van?”

“Our getaway vehicle is a white extended van,” Jeremy said with a huge ice cream scoop of amusement in his voice. “I love this plan.”

I rolled my eyes—if I kept it up, I was going to do permanent damage—and opened the side panel. I began to slide into the middle row of seats when I realized there was a woman sitting quietly in the back row of seats. My jaw dropped and I gulped down the lump in my throat. I took my seat and gathered my thoughts, trying desperately to keep a polite smile on my face.

My bio mother sat there, staring at me with a guarded expression. She was in her mid- to late-forties. I realized I hadn’t asked her the last time we’d met. More grey strands stood out against her black hair than I remembered from before. Her strong, dark features had more creases and lines than the last time I’d seen her, though she looked in better shape. Not in an exercising way, but in a less-stress-in-the-eyes way.

“I know,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry. Javier made me.”

It took me a moment to adjust to how Mary spoke to people. She often sensed or saw what someone might say and would just skip ahead in the conversation. It made talking to her very difficult. “I didn’t realize you were here.”

She frowned when she said, “Javier.”

There was still so much pain inside me when I looked at her. A pain that couldn’t disappear with an apology. Nothing would replace the ache my younger self endured whenever I thought about how I’d been abandoned by this woman. No metaphor, either. She actually abandoned me on a doorstep in the middle of winter.

That child’s anger rose up in me, but I pushed it back down. That was a long time ago. It had no place here. Instead, I very cautiously asked, “How are you doing, Mary?”

Mary wasn’t looking at me any longer. “I said I shouldn’t have come.”

Manny and Connie climbed into the van, and Jeremy came in after them. After taking his seat next to me, Jeremy squeezed my hand, but stayed silent. He understood.

Isabella and Javier jumped into the passenger and driver seats respectively. Javier shoved the keys into the ignition and said, “Mary, we need you here.”

“I should be with Mrs. Saunders,” Mary muttered.

Isabella looked over her shoulder. “Mary, you should be here.”

I gathered up all of my politeness and maturity and I said, “It’s okay, Mary. It’s…good to see you again.”

She grew quiet for a moment. Whatever abilities she had, they obviously weren’t perfect. Confusion spread across her face. She hadn’t expected my comment. “There is medication I take. It helps. Sometimes. Not always.”

“I’m glad you’re doing better.”

“I hope so,” Mary said. She turned to look out the window, conversation now over.

I didn’t take offense. Arriving unannounced, seeing me again, and the threat of whatever it was that was pressing down on us were probably too much for her to handle at once. I could respect her ending the conversation.

She had told me before that being around the Whisperers affected her negatively. I frowned. “Javier, are the Whisperers here? Is that who we’re running from?”

“Them and others,” Isabella answered. Javier was busy getting us out of the tiny fishing village and on to the main road heading back out to the secondary highway.

I glanced back at Mary. She was staring blankly out of the window. I didn’t know…I let out a deep breath. I didn’t know.

Mary turned to look at me. She gave me a small, little smile. Then, back to the window.

I hated leaving home. Home was where I felt my power. I don’t just mean power in the spooky sense that Dema is always harping on me to embrace. I mean the power of identity. I am Rachel from Wisemen’s Cove. That’s who I am. I own the house with a wooden deck that overlooks the ocean. Visitors knew my house because it had a white garbage box at the end of my driveway, yet another gift from Jeremy’s father.

My notebook with all of my notes was home. My little medicine bag that I’d had since infancy was there. My identity was there.

I knew the spirits that frequented the area. Some I even knew by name, such as Mrs. McAvoy. Some I just knew by location, like the little girl at the grocery store. But I knew them and, in a weird way, I trusted them. If I needed help, something inside of me said I could call on them and they would come. There was a lot of security in that, and now that security was gone.

I didn’t like relinquishing any control of my situation, especially when there was this nebulous threat, as opposed to anything remotely concrete and obvious. Which meant that we had several hours of driving ahead of us, a cranky Javier, and massive levels of awkward in the van with Mary being there. So, there was only one thing I could do to address that: make things more awkward.

“So, Isabella, now that I know who you
actually
are, why didn’t you tell me you were Javier’s girlfriend?”

A pained sound escaped Javier, audible even over the engine and wind.

Isabella laughed, unnecessarily loud for such a simple question. She lightly punched Javier in the arm, who scowled. “Is that what you told them?”

“Well, ya know…” Javier said, rather self-consciously I thought.

“Wait, you aren’t Javier’s girlfriend?” Jeremy asked. “You guys broke up?”

Isabella laughed again, though she managed to say, “Step on it, Javi, or I’m going to take over driving.”

“You drive like a drunken maniac,” Javier grumbled.

Isabella snorted.

All of this witty banter was adorable and helped take my mind off the impending doom, but I had to clarify: “Seriously, you aren’t a couple?”

I know it was stupid to pick at Javier and a woman I barely knew, but I needed the distraction from basically being kidnapped by my friends. To laugh, smile, and get my heart rate down before I blew out an artery seemed like a wise choice.

I think Isabella sensed what I was doing. She looked at me from the rear view mirror and said, “I could be, if he’d ever got around to asking me.”

“This isn’t the time,” Javier mumbled.

“Why don’t you ask him?” I said.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Isabella said in a silky voice that convinced me she
had
asked Javier before.

“Dude, you were the one who told me I needed to tell Rach I liked her,” Jeremy said. “You even gave me this big bullshit story about you and Isabella.”

“He did?” Isabella asked. “What did he say?”

“It was all lies,” Mary said from the back seat. “Javier just likes playing with his sword.”

“Jesus save me,” Javier swore.

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. I laughed so hard my stomach muscles ached. Javier’s glare of death in the rear view mirror did absolutely nothing to slow me down. Everyone was laughing – everyone but Javier, of course – and my rising fear over the situation took a reprieve.

“We went out once,” Javier said defensively into the laughter.

“Two hundred years ago!” Isabella exclaimed.

“What?” I said, all laughter gone.

Javier took his eyes off the road long enough to glare at Isabella. “Now we have to explain that.”

“Oh my god! You’re vampires! Oh my god! I knew it! I knew it!” Jeremy slapped me on the arm. “I knew it!”

“Ow!”

Jeremy slapped my arm again, as if I didn’t hear him the first time. “They’re vampires!”

“Ow!” I slapped his thigh hard. “That hurt.”

“Vampires!” he sputtered, motioning at the front of the van. “They’re vampires.”

“They are not vampires,” I said. “Vampires aren’t real.”

“No,” Jeremy said. “I remember Javier saying that there were people who were like vampires. See? He never said they weren’t real.”

“He said they weren’t real,” I said calmly. “Because vampires aren’t real.”

“It’s complicated,” Mary said.

“Can someone fill me in on this vampire story?” Manny asked, staring at Connie.

“What? You don’t know?” I asked Manny, who’d been quiet the entire ride until now.

“I’m not allowed to say anything,” Connie said defensively.

“You knew they were vampires and you didn’t say anything!” Jeremy demanded.

“Oh my freaking god, Jeremy! They aren’t vampires,” I said. “Just like those other guys weren’t zombies.”

“They were totally zombies.”

I might have smirked at the little pout forming on Jeremy’s face. I’d seen less pathetic puppies.

“This isn’t time to discuss this,” Javier said sternly.

“Later,” Isabella promised us. “You pretended I was your girlfriend.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

Jeremy nudged me with his elbow. I glared at him. He pointed at Isabella and Javier arguing. I made a face that conveyed
I am perfectly capable of understanding that Javier and Isabella are having a wee domestic dispute in the front seat of our getaway van.

He grumped a bit, but said, “Fine. Be like that.”

Chapter 11

I Don’t Want to be Misty Monroe Anymore

We tried keeping up idle chatter throughout the drive down the highway from St. Anthony along the twisting road south. As Isabella would only speak to the rest of us, and in monosyllables, we went for casual talk. However, small talk is exhausting for any length of time. So by the time we zipped by the Port aux Choix turn off, we were all down to moose alerts and not much else.

For the record? Six moose. Not bad at all.

Jeremy let out a high-pitched squeak that I didn’t know men could even make. Javier slammed on the breaks, skidding and sliding, rubber burning. Isabella screamed for everyone to get down.

“What? What is it?” Javier demanded as he grabbed the handgun from the armrest compartment.

He pointed behind me. “Her!”

I followed his gaze and let out a long, pained sigh. Dema was floating in the air and jogging in place next to the vehicle.

She glared at Jeremy before rolling her eyes. “The Tall Man’s testicles haven’t dropped yet, Spirit Caller. He will not give your womb the children you crave.”

I closed my eyes and counted to ten. When that didn’t work, mostly because of the hysterical laughter in the van, I counted to twenty.

A rusted truck pulled up next to us and asked if we were okay. Javier said we dodged a moose, but were fine. The driver said good, be careful, and all that, and took off. Javier took a deep, audible breath, and began to drive once more.

Dema ran alongside the van, her hair not moving in the breeze.

“How is she even doing that?” Jeremy asked.

“I’m surprised you can see her,” I said. “She’s around the house all of the time, and you never see her.”

“What do you mean, all of the time?” Jeremy asked with a horrified expression.

“There are rules for when she’s allowed to lurk,” I assured him.

“Who makes those rules?”

I could tell he was worried the ghost was spying on our intimate moments, but I didn’t want to say anything in front of everyone. I went for casual. “I make the rules, Jeremy. It’s all fine. We’ll talk about it later.”

“There’s a ghost running alongside the van. We’re talking about this right now.”

“I’m sorry, Jeremy. It’s probably my fault,” Isabella said.

“Can’t you control it?” Jeremy snapped.

“Jeremy!” I said, trying to keep the scolding tone out of my voice. I failed.

“It’s creeping me out!”

Isabella looked over her shoulder. “Dema, would you please come inside the van to make things easier on Jeremy’s sensitive nerves?”

“Dema, please come in,” I said. At that, Dema floated inside the van and took a seat behind me and alongside Mary. Mary seemed to take it all in stride.

“This is creeping me out,” Jeremy said. He glanced over his shoulder. “No offense. If ghosts take offense.”

Dema sighed and said, “Spirit Caller, please inform the Tall Man that I do not lurk in your windows while you copulate.”

“Jesus wept,” Jeremy muttered next to me.

“Jeremy, rule number one,” I said. “Do not annoy Dema. She’ll always get you back.”

“The Spirit Caller is becoming wise. This is my influence upon her.”

A moose jumped out on the road and Javier swerved hard once to avoid it, and hard again to avoid the oncoming tractor-trailer belting down the highway on the curve. The driver gave us a contemptuous blast of his horn. Javier ignored him and hit the accelerator.