Shadowed Summer (16 page)

I ran for the stairs, red-faced and furious, and stomped up them as loud as I could. Daddy could be mad all he wanted; I was madder, and I wasn’t about to apologize.

From my window, I watched the police leave. I made faces at the back of Deputy Wood’s head. If he was the best the sheriff’s department had had to offer back then, no wonder they hadn’t found Elijah.

Our neighbors trickled inside again, casting glances at our house just in case something else interesting happened. I climbed back onto my bed and stewed; they were all too nosy for their own good.

Rolling over to stare at my canopy, I decided I would tell Daddy exactly what Old Mrs. Landry said to me and about him. I heard him coming up the stairs and steeled myself.

“You all done pouting?” Daddy asked as he let himself in. He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes and upset etched into the lines around his mouth.

I wrapped my arms around my knees faced the window so I wouldn’t have to see him. “I wasn’t.”

After a quiet moment, Daddy sighed. “I want to know what’s going on.”

From his tone of voice, I knew I was getting grounded no matter what I said.

“I told you, we went up there to ask about Elijah, and she went crazy. Talking out of her head about touching his stuff and seeing his room and drinking from his cup.” Hot and mad, I raised my hand and added, “She was gonna hit me.”

Daddy turned my too-small desk chair around to sit in it backward. He kept shifting to catch my eye, but I wouldn’t look up. “Why would you go over there in the first place? You know she’s not right.”

“I wanted to know why Elijah went to the hospital. I wanted to know what really happened.”

Pain rose in Daddy’s eyes, sudden and startled like I’d slapped him. In a blink, that sting turned steel, a flash of anger making his temple pulse. “Let me tell you something I think you need to get straight right here and now, sugar. Some things you ought to just leave alone.”

“She thought you sent me.” I held out my scraped hands, begging him to see.
Look—look what she did to me.
“What did you take, Daddy? She thinks you took something from him and sent me back for more.”

Daddy paused. “She’s a lost old woman, Iris, and you’re fooling around with her memories. You’re lucky shoving you is all she did.”

That left me raw with disbelief. “You’re taking her side?”

Daddy stood slowly, picking up my chair with one hand to slide it beneath my desk again. “I’m sorry you got hurt, Iris, but the woman’s sick. You stay away from her from now on, you understand?”

“Maybe I would if you’d answer a question straight for once!”

“And what question is that?”

I dared to face him head-on and asked, “What do you have of Elijah Landry’s?”

“Quit asking about him.” Daddy walked out, leaving only his anger behind. “He’s not a mystery for you to solve.”

Daddy and I didn’t talk at supper. We kept our war silence, and afterward, when I finished the dishes, I slipped upstairs. I had an inkling of a plan, so I figured I’d stay up there until he went to work.

I dumped all my Elijah things on the bed. I had my spells and Uncle Lee’s box and the lists of witnesses from the library. Reaching into my pocket, I added that single leftover river rock to the pile. Then, solemn, ’cause it was a ritual, I put in the picture of Elijah and my parents at the parish fair.

Looking over my collection, I had an itch in the back of my head, a blankish spot that stood for something, though I couldn’t tell exactly what. I felt like I had missed an important clue. I was sure if I just stared long enough, it would turn bright and catch my attention.

The phone rang once, breaking my concentration, and then a minute later, my door clicked. I hurried to throw a cover over the pile.

Daddy didn’t walk in, he just stood at the threshold and gestured with his thumb. “That’s Collette.”

“What, I’m not grounded?”

With the hint of a warning, Daddy asked, “Do you
want
to be?”

I dug my phone from under the bed, waiting until Daddy left before leaning against the door. He wouldn’t sneak up on me again.

“Hello?”

“Oh my God, what happened?” Collette sounded breathless and flighty.

Rolling my eyes, I slid down the door, watching as pollen fluff drifted past. “Nothing, except Old Mrs. Landry is a big fat liar.”

“Oh no,” she moaned. “She called the police on us?”

“Well, she did on me, anyway. Told ’em I was throwing rocks at her house.”

“Dang, Iris. Did you get in trouble?”

“I got yelled at.” Raising my foot, I stirred the air to confuse the pollen fluff, making it spin wildly before I stomped it to the floor. “My daddy’s leaving shortly; as soon as he’s gone, you need to come over.”

“Um . . . okay?” It came out like a question, thick with confusion.

Leaning forward, I opened my door enough to make sure Daddy wasn’t listening on the other side before whispering, “Bring your books and just you; we’re gonna find Elijah.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Collette asked.

“You’re the one who said we had to put him down.”

“But I didn’t mean—”

“We need to quit messing around and do something, Collette. Come or don’t; whatever.”

She hesitated again, then said, “All right, I’m on my way.”

I stood candles up in teacups all around my room, lit them from a box of matches, then moved on to arranging my bed. The Ferris wheel picture lay on my pillow, and beside it, my spellbook. The library notes went back in my desk, but I put the rock in my pocket. I would need that.

“Lord, Iris,” Collette said, slinking into my room. Candlelight shone under her dark eyes, shading them from below. She looked haunted as she turned in a slow circle.

With a measure of pride puffing me up, I waved my hand at the room transformed. “Looks good, don’t it?”

Collette nodded.

“We’re using the spell to talk to Elijah. I need you to hold my hand and pull me back in case something bad happens.”

“Do you want me to chant anything?”

“If you want to. Something quiet and steady.”

I arranged myself in the middle of the bed, nudging the picture back into place when it threatened to slide off the pillow.

Reaching into my pocket, I produced the rock. Elijah’d sent that to me; I figured it would help me find him.

I closed my eyes. This time, I wasn’t afraid; I wasn’t even anxious. I knew down in my soul Collette wouldn’t let anything happen to me. Steadying myself, I squeezed the rock as I tried to sink to that shallow-breath place again.

I noticed the tiniest things. Wind kissed my curtains. Collette smelled like baby powder. The candlelight became solid in a way, a warm blanket coursing over my skin.

The drifting was just like the first time, when I lay on Cecily Claiborne’s grave; just like the butterfly dream; but this time I was ready. I knew where I wanted to go.

Show me Elijah,
I murmured inwardly.
Show me the last of him.

My house washed away in watercolors, draining down to black, with me marooned in it. Then the walls came up again. An unfamiliar bedroom surrounded me.

Elijah sat at his desk, scribbling away on a piece of paper. He didn’t notice me; he didn’t even stop writing. Wads of tissues filled his trash can, and he blindly reached for a new one. Pressing it to his nose, it bloomed with a bright red spot of blood.

He was going to die soon. I felt it; it built like a storm cloud getting darker and darker until rain had to fall. These were Elijah’s last minutes, and he couldn’t hear me warning him to get away.

The window rattled and me and Elijah both turned to look at the same time. When I saw the face there, I choked. A sharp, sudden hook in my belly yanked so hard I thought I might tear.

In the time it took me to blink, Elijah disappeared—his room, his time, too—and the moon became Collette’s face, staring down into mine.

“Iris?” Collette shook me.

I struggled to sit up; my head swam. For a minute, I felt like somebody’d stuffed my head with clay; I couldn’t even think. Sick and dizzy, I wiped my nose and found it bleeding.

I tasted copper, and it hit me in a wave who I’d seen in that window, who was there the night Elijah Landry died.

Poor Ben looked like he might jump out of his skin when he saw two girls climbing through his window in the middle of the night.

He threw down his Xbox controller and grabbed his robe. While Collette giggled, I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and tried not to look. It was kind of hard, though, because I’d never seen a boy in his boxers.

“Iris had a vision,” Collette said, trailing her fingers along the edge of Ben’s desk. I let her tell him the story; I’d been there—that was enough for me.

His wallpaper had little baseballs and footballs on it, and the border was Astroturf green to match his bedspread and curtains. He didn’t have very many books; instead, he had uneven stacks of comics, mostly the horror kind, with titles dripping blood.

Collette looked all pink and out of place in Ben’s room, but I liked it. If it had been any other night, I would have been happy to sit down with a comic or two, or a bottle of glue and a snap-apart model—maybe of the planets. I didn’t care about cars or spaceships.

When Collette finished, Ben edged toward me, staring at my nose. “Are you all right?”