“Yes and no,” she replied, a grin on her face. “You were like a son to me. When you left, a part of my heart went with you. When I… you know, died, I could feel the connection still there. The bond between us, and the bond between you and Tim.”
Acid churned in my stomach when she mentioned my best friend. My first crush. The boy I never told I loved him.
“Is Tim okay?” I whispered, afraid she would tell me something horrible had happened to him.
That seemed to piss her off. Her energy flared a ruby red as she glared at me. When I was a kid, that stare made me want to piss my pants, and things hadn’t changed now that I was an adult. Fortunately I had better control of my bladder now. Mostly.
“Now you care? Now you want to know? You’ve been gone years, you never called, you never wrote. Hell, you never even showed up at my funeral.” Her aura faded back to the muted gray I’d seen when she first appeared. It was weird seeing a ghost’s tears, but they tore at my heart anyway.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“How could you? You cut us out of your life. Tim tried to find you. I don’t want to think about the number of times he cried when he couldn’t track you down.”
I couldn’t have felt worse if she had kicked me in the nuts. “I’m sorry.”
“Yes, you’re sorry. Meanwhile, Tim is—” She stopped, going fuzzy around the edges, and I swear she stuttered for a second, like she was having trouble holding her form together. “I don’t have much time. Tim’s in trouble. I need you to promise me you’ll go home and help him. If he meant anything to you, you have to swear. You owe it to me.”
Her essence dimmed. She no longer looked remotely solid.
The thought of Tim in trouble scared me. “I will. I’ll leave in the morning. When the train pulls in, I’ll come find you and we’ll talk.”
She let her fingers graze over my cheek. It was different than any other ghost who’d ever touched me. Her touch was warm and made my stomach knot. “Afraid not, baby. This was a one-way trip for me. I used up every bit of energy to get here. There’s not enough left to get me back home. Or anywhere else.”
She was dying again. Disincorporating in front of me.
I reached for her, desperate to stop what was happening. “Please, don’t do this.”
She gave me a faded smile. “I need you to remember that you’re as much my son as Tim. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t ask.” She reached out again to touch me but was too insubstantial, and her hand passed through me. She stepped back. “Crap. I thought I’d have more time. Oh well. Look, you need to know, I would give up anything for my boys. Whatever the price, I’m happy to pay it. You made me a promise, Scott. Now don’t you forget it. I love you. And please, don’t break his heart again, okay?”
Break his heart? What the hell did that mean?
Before I could ask, she faded from view. I felt her wink out of existence, and the loss tugged at my very soul.
Chapter Two
I CALLED my boss and told him I had a family emergency. Fortunately he was a good sort and gave me a week off to deal with it. I got a ticket on the Amtrak that would get me back to Milwaukee in about ninety minutes. And once I got there, I’d have to face my past if I expected to have any sort of future.
While I packed my bag, I replayed what Tim’s mom had told me. Why was he in trouble? What was wrong with him? And what did she mean about not breaking his heart?
Tim had always been the most tenderhearted person I knew. He was forever trying to take care of injured animals. Which, now that I think about it, he probably saw me as. It was obvious from the way he fussed over me during my… episodes. Any rational person would have hightailed it away from me, but not Tim. He stood there and took whatever life threw at him and still found the strength to stand up for me.
And now he needed me.
While I was filled with trepidation over what I might find when I got back home, I wouldn’t let Tim down. Not again. He’d always had my back, and I ran from him—from my home—in order to save myself. My mental state back then had been fragile at best. Now? I could—would—do this.
Sleep didn’t come that night. Thoughts of Mrs. Jennesee rolled through my head, like a movie on a loop. Through sleepovers, arguments, study sessions, and my mooning over Tim, she was always there, stuffing our faces with pizza and cookies, giving advice or a shoulder to cry on. She was right. I owed her.
A cab pulled up at 6:00 a.m. and got me to the train station by seven. I checked in, then went and got a cup of coffee. As I sat there, staring at the sea of people, I wondered if I could do this. I mean, I knew I had to, but was I prepared to see Tim again? To see my mom or brother?
Shit, what had I promised her? How the hell would I explain to the people I loved why I thought I was toxic for them? Then again, did it matter? It’s not like I could come out and tell them what a freak I was.
They called the train to Milwaukee, and I got up, grabbed my bag, and made my way to the platform. When I took my seat, I started chewing on my nails. This trip, seeing my family again, would tear open old wounds for all of us. Well, assuming any of them had actually missed me.
The trip went quickly, and I breathed easier as we got closer to our destination. Things would be okay. They had to. Of course, that thought lasted until we disembarked the train and I stepped out into the large atrium.
The sun was already beating down, and I figured it would be a scorcher of a day. Still, I took a deep breath, happy to be home.
“Why is my train so late? Sir? Do you know?”
I turned, expecting to see a harried woman pacing on the tile flooring. What I found was completely different. She was—had been—maybe early twenties, her hair short and black, with alternating crescent moons and stars shaved into it. Each ear had a number of piercings, filled with a variety of stars and moons. She was striking. At least until she turned toward me and I saw the dark, charred skin that had peeled back, showing bone and sinew, which had me gasping. Doing my best not to recoil, I stood there and gave her a smile.
“Do you know when our train will arrive?” she asked again. “My parents are probably worried sick. We should have been there hours ago.”
Then I saw what she was holding. He couldn’t have been more than a few months old, sleeping in her arms, his head cradled against her chest. He’d suffered the same burns as she had.
Shit. Not even home for two minutes and already I was seeing ghosts again.
“No, I’m sorry, I don’t.”
“But you can help us, right?” She turned big, pleading eyes to me as she ran a hand over her baby’s head.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I ran out the front doors and down the street. By the time I reached Water Street, I was breathing hard and sweating like a pig, my heart pounding against my chest. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I hadn’t seen a ghost in years, so why now?
I slumped against the bank building, nestled in the shade of the surrounding towers, and swiped a hand over my face. Fear of the possibilities had me wanting to rush back to the train and return to my ghost-free apartment. But Tim….
“Fuck!”
The urge to give the middle finger to the people whose heads snapped in my direction hit me pretty hard. How dare they judge me for being crazy!
When I had myself under control, I walked around downtown, seeing the changes that had occurred since I moved. More buildings stood vacant or were under renovation. Still, there were a lot of people milling around. I did my best not to make eye contact with anyone, choosing instead to watch the pavement as I walked. By the time the sun had started to dip below the horizon, I was ready to face Tim.
I found a line of cabs outside the Pfister Hotel, and the nice doorman hailed one for me. I slipped him a couple bucks for the trouble, then slid into the door he’d opened for me. After giving the driver the address that was etched in my memory, I sat back as we moved out of downtown, heading south.
“Sir? We’re here.”
My eyes popped open, and I turned toward the house that was filled with memories for me. I took out a twenty and handed it to the driver, murmured that he could keep the change, and got out of the car. I stood on the sidewalk, noticing the subtle changes to the two-story town house. Where they’d originally had dark blue shutters, now there was a large bay window that had more than a few suncatchers hanging in it, one of which Tim and I had mowed lawns for an entire summer to buy. The house used to have asphalt tiles but was now covered with white siding. It looked different but still held a warm familiarity for me.
Stepping up onto the porch, I rang the bell and waited for a few moments, then rang again. No one answered. I wasn’t sure what to do. Turning to my right, I decided to sit and wait on a bench situated on the porch.
It was a few hours before a car pulled up, with Tim in the passenger seat. He turned to the driver, a pretty redheaded woman, threw his head back and laughed, then reached out and put a hand on her arm. Jealousy flashed through me, but I bit down on it, knowing I had no right to be upset. Didn’t mean I wasn’t.
When he opened the door and stepped out of the car, I had to catch my breath. He was no longer a gawky teen. Now he was wider in the chest and hips, though his waist remained narrow. His dark hair was shaved on the sides and cut very short on top. As a boy, Tim had always been sexy, but now he was fucking hot. He reminded me so much of Matthias Streitwieser, with his smoldering gray eyes and dark complexion. Tim said goodbye, closed the door, then turned toward the house. I could tell the moment he saw me, as his eyes went wide before they narrowed dangerously.
He stalked toward where I sat. “Can I help you?” His voice had none of its usual warmth, and I could see so much pain and hatred in his eyes.
I found it hard to form the words I wanted to say. After clearing my throat, I tried again. “Hey.”
Tim snorted. “Five years and the best I get is hey?” He waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever.” Turning away, he headed for the door.
I got up, rushed across the porch, and stopped in front of him.
“Get out of my way, Scotty.”
Hearing him call me Scotty set my heart thumping. Since I’d left, I’d only gone by Scott, and that nickname, from Tim’s lips, had warmth zipping through me.
“Please, can we talk?” I wasn’t sure if I should continue, but my mouth got the better of me. “Believe me, if it wasn’t important, I wouldn’t be here.”
If ever a stupider phrase had been uttered, I would need someone to prove it to me.
Tim’s expression twisted into a sneer as he pushed me aside and strode to the door.
Like an idiot, instead of turning around and leaving, I went after him. “Tim?”
He spun and glared at me, with a sheen of tears in his eyes. “What the fuck do you want from me? You left us—left me—and disappeared. We looked everywhere we could think of for you. Honest to God, I thought you’d died or something. Do you know what that’s like?”
“No.” My voice was small, pathetic. Why it never dawned on me that he’d be so angry, I hadn’t a clue. Apparently that had been the case for most of my life. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh hell no! You don’t get to be sorry. Five years and not a fucking word from you? You hurt my mom—you hurt me. Have you even bothered to talk to your family?”
“No. I came to see you first.”
“Why? After all this time, why now?”
I heaved a sigh. “I thought… I thought you needed me.”
“Yeah, you’re five years too late for that. I don’t need you anymore, so you can just fuck off back to wherever you were hiding out.”
He unlocked the house, then opened the door and stepped inside. He gave me one last look before starting to close it.
With a cry born of anguish and loss, I rushed forward and pushed the door open. “You have to listen to me.” And then, realizing what I said, I added, “Please.”
His expression softened for just a second, and I took that as a sign that I had to get him to hear me out.
“I’ll tell you everything about why I left. Why I had to go.”
“I don’t care.” But he did. The quaver in his voice told me more than his words did.
“I was dragging you all down. Ryan walked away because of me. My mom took to drinking because of me. And you….” I couldn’t say the words.
“What about me?” Tim stepped forward and gripped my shoulders. “What about me, Scotty?”
“You were wasting your life on me.”
His jaw dropped open, and he narrowed his eyes dangerously. “Holy shit. That’s what you’re going with? Seriously? The least you could have done was give me some fucking credit. It was my choice what to do with my life, and you are—were—my best friend. I would have given everything for you.”
My shoulders slumped. “That’s the thing. You did, and I hated myself for keeping you from living your life. The whole world was out there, waiting for you, and I was broken. Shattered into so many pieces, I wasn’t sure I could ever get them all together again.”
He stepped back. “No, this isn’t going to work. You made your choice, and now you have to live with it. Goodbye, Scotty.”
He wrapped his fingers around my wrist and pushed me back. I knew if he closed the door, I’d probably never see him again, so I took one last stab at it.
“Don’t you want to know what was wrong with me? All those years, every time you got between me and some asshole, don’t you even want to know why?”
“No, I don’t care.” But he did, because I knew him. His voice softened, and his grip on my arm lessened.
I spun on my heel. “You do—I can tell. Please, just let me explain to you why I came, and then I’ll go away if you want and never bother you again. I swear to God, it’s important.”
There were so many emotions playing on his face. Finally, he sighed and let go of me. “Fine.” He turned away, stalking through the house. I had no choice but to follow him. He went into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and grabbed a beer. “Do you want one?”
“No, thank you. I don’t drink. It’s… it was part of the problem. I’d take a soda if you’ve got one.”
He went back into the refrigerator and pulled out a can of Coke, then turned and slammed it on the table. His body language spoke volumes: tense muscles, twitching jaw, and a slight tic in the corner of his left eye. I think he was trying to decide if he wanted to hear me out or lay me out.
I took a seat at the kitchen table and popped the top on my soda slowly, letting the pressure from being jostled seep out.
He sat across from me, staring at the table, a death grip on his bottle. “So, talk.”
There was so much to say, and I had no idea where to start. Then I realized that the end was probably a good place.
“Do you remember when I died?”
He was like a balloon that had met a needle. All the air went out of him, and his expressions faded, morphing to sadness.
“Yes. I stood over your body as Cole ran to get help. You weren’t breathing, and I was angry with myself for goading you into using the swing. When the paramedics came, they couldn’t revive you, and I started screaming that they had to save you.”
We hadn’t really talked much about the whole episode, so I’d never heard that. In fact, I doubt I even gave any thought to what the people around me were doing.
Wow, what a selfish bastard I was…. Am.
“When one guy pulled out a needle and stabbed it into your chest, the only thing I could think of was that he was hurting you. Ryan had to hold me back. He pulled me to his chest and held on while I sobbed. Then you coughed and sputtered, and Ryan let me go. You were breathing, and I was so fucking grateful.”
Yeah, I didn’t deserve a friend like him.
“Well, that was the start of the problems for me. Not because I died, but because of what happened after.”
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, his gaze locked on my face. “What happened?”
/> At least now I had his attention. I started off with what I knew for certain, that I died and came back, but then went into things that weren’t so clear for me.
“Do you remember that day in school when I got my scar?”
“How could I forget? It scared the shit out of me.” He gave a wry chuckle. “You seemed to do that an awful lot.”
And now, the moment of truth. “It was caused by….” I took a deep breath. “A ghost.”
I wasn’t sure what I expected from him, but stone-cold silence wasn’t it.
“Tim?”
“Was it because of the drugs?”
Of course that would be the question he’d ask. “No, it wasn’t because of the drugs. The drugs were because of the ghosts.”
He pursed his lips. “I think I need more alcohol. I’m going to make a spiked hot chocolate.” He got up, tossed his bottle into the recycle bin, and went into the kitchen.
A weight had lifted from my chest as I told him the truth, but I wasn’t sure he believed me or if he thought I’d gone around the bend and never came back.
When he returned, he tilted his head toward the door. I got up and followed him outside. We sat on the bench I’d occupied earlier and said nothing as he sipped his drink. Finally, after about twenty minutes, he put his mug down and leaned back, his head resting on the bench.
“Why did you come back? Why now?”
I drew my knees to my chest, locking my arms around them, making myself as small as I could. This had the potential to go so horribly wrong, but I owed him the truth. “Your mom came to see me.”
The night became still. Crickets stopped chirping, frogs ceased to croak. Even the breeze that had been rustling the leaves stopped. The pure silence was broken by a gut-wrenching sob.
Tim leaped out of the seat and turned to me. Through the shadows of the trees, I could see his skin darken and his fists clench. “Get out.”
“Tim, please, I—”
“Get the fuck out of my house! I don’t know what kind of sick game you’re trying to play, but I want you to stay the fuck away from me. My mother died less than two weeks ago. You couldn’t be bothered to be there. You weren’t here when she was sick. When I watched her waste away, I needed you like I never needed anyone before. I’d lie in bed at night and cry myself to sleep, listening to her gasping for breath and hating you for what you did to me. I’ve done just fine without you for five years. I don’t need you now.”
The Spirit Key Page 3