Audrey Claire - Libby Grace 01 - How to be a Ghost

by Audrey Claire

  I sat straighter. “That’s a great idea. Since I talked to Clark, I assume he called off the APB, so it’s not likely he’ll even pay attention to anything coming in that might be about my body.”

  “Might be a good idea to check his office again too,” Monica said.

  I agreed.

  We drove out of Summit’s Edge by one of the lesser-used route and ended up on a quiet two-lane stretch of road alongside a river. I liked this area, and often during the warmer months, and even sometimes during the cold ones, people stood on the small bridge fishing. We were still a few miles away from the highway, so the area was remote. Less people meant I could be invisible, but I held my form to push myself further.

  When the car jerked hard, and Monica veered toward the railing, I frowned at her. “Let’s get there in one piece.”

  My friend’s face was tight, and she peered in the rearview mirror. “That wasn’t me, Libby.”

  I looked back and found we were being tailed by another car, riding our bumper. “Wave him around. People think they own the road.”

  Monica powered down the window a little and waved her fingers to signal to the other driver. In response, he rammed their car again. My stomach knotted.

  “I’m going to stop and tell him about himself,” Monica vowed.

  I shrieked. “Don’t stop. Just pull to the side.”

  Monica’s voice rose. “I can’t pull over any more, Libby. He’s being a jerk. Go around!” She half leaned her head out the window, and I almost sighed in relief when the driver started to pull into the opposite lane for oncoming traffic. I squinted, trying to get better look at the driver, but all I had the impression of was a man with a ball cap pulled low over his eyes. I didn’t recognize the car, which meant nothing since I barely knew what kind of car Monica drove. Silver, was all I would have been able to tell the police.

  The car swerved hard toward us and this time smashed into us with enough force to send Monica into the wooden slats, which were the only barrier to careening over the side of the bridge. Monica screamed, fighting with the steering wheel. I froze in shock as the slats splintered. Monica had the presence of mind to slam on the breaks, and my stomach lurched hearing the tires squeal. Another crunch of metal on metal and I realized our attacker was determined we would go over the side of the bridge. Then we were airborne.

  The dark, rippling water hurtled toward me, and all concentration left. One minute I was inside the car. The next I floated above it invisible. I swooped down through the roof to find the car filling with water at a rapid pace. I knew from swimming in this river it was at least twenty-five feet deep in parts. Monica hadn’t lowered the window all the way, but she’d done so enough that soon, the car would be submerged.

  “Get out of here, Monica. Hurry!”

  When my friend didn’t answer, I looked at her, and the world fell apart. Blood stained Monica’s forehead, and she was unconscious. I called her name over and over, but she didn’t respond. Maybe if I could get her out myself. I first materialized and unbuckled her seatbelt. Then I tried to open her door. Nothing. I floated into position and solidified again to kick at the door. Talk about a real energy drain. If you need a drawer opened, I am the woman for the job. If it’s a crushed car door, I’m useless. To be fair, maybe most humans were as well, but knowing it didn’t help.

  I switched my efforts to the passenger door, but I had no strength to push against the water pressure. The windshield would not break no matter how I kicked it, and holding my form proved more and more difficult. I sobbed and screamed Monica’s name as the water reached her neck. Gallons poured in through the half open window. The electronics were shot so I couldn’t even raise it to slow down the flow. Panic rose inside me. I could not lose my friend.

  “Monica, wake up, please!”

  Monica moaned and then coughed, choking on the water. I reached out to raise her chin, but my fingers passed through her skin. I wailed—lost, afraid, alone. Something crashed down on the hood of the car, forcing the car into a steeper nosedive, but by the time I squinted through the half submerged windshield, all I caught was a blur. The next instant Monica’s door was torn from its hinges and Monica herself snatched from the car. I blinked to see Ian holding Monica tight to his chest, and he flew—or it could have been an incredible leap—straight up to the bridge.

  Dazed, I floated out through the gaping hole he had left and then remembered my hurt friend. I zoomed up to where Ian had laid her beneath the shade of a tree. Steam rose off Ian’s shoulders and arms, and I spun to look up at the blazing hot sun. He really was a vampire, and he had risked his life to save Monica for me.

  I grabbed for his arm but couldn’t get a grip. “Ian, you have to get out of here. We’re fine. Go home before you…um…” Melt? Explode? “We’re okay now. Thank you for saving Monica.”

  He kept his head lowered, and I had the feeling he couldn’t even look at the sun without burning his eyes. After he gave me a once over, he was gone in the same blur he had appeared in. I sank down beside Monica and scanned the area around us. There was no sign of the other car, and I hoped he wouldn’t come back to finish the job. Soon a siren blared in the distance, and I wondered if Ian had phoned the police.

  Clark’s squad car rolled to a stop, and I sighed in relief. He bent over Monica not even looking at me. No sense trying to appear. Getting Monica help was all that mattered. I stayed close the entire time when the ambulance arrived and the medics loaded my friend in the back of the vehicle to rush her to the hospital.

  * * * *

  I hovered above Monica’s bed wringing my hands, my heart aching. This was my fault. I didn’t know the specifics, of course, but I had been the one nosing around to find a killer and to find my body. Somehow, the killer had found out and wanted to get me out of the way. Okay, my line of thinking was a stretch, although not impossible. Worry over Monica did not produce rational thought patterns, especially when I recalled how I was unable to get her out of the car. My heart warmed thinking of how Ian had saved us. If it weren’t for him… I choked up thinking of it, and floated lower to my friend, lying so still in the bed. I brushed a hand over her cheek but made no connection. If I were to appear, I might seep energy from her, and I would rather be cast into the pit than do that.

  Then a new thought occurred to me. If the killer did have my body, and he was in Summit’s Edge, wouldn’t he think it odd that I was still walking around? Maybe he did know, and it was a matter of time before he outed me as a ghost. With this new worry, I floated toward the floor and paced while chewing a nail. How much more would my world fall apart?

  The door opened, and I whirled around to see Isabelle, Clark’s sister, come in. I’d forgotten she was a nurse. Just across the threshold, she paused and glanced around as if she searched for something. Her gaze passed right over me where I stood in the corner and moved on to Monica. Isabelle walked to the bed and checked Monica’s vitals. When she was done, she gently fluffed Monica’s pillow and straightened her covers. I sent her a silent thanks for taking care of Monica.

  Weariness came over me, and I felt myself sinking into nothingness. I seemed to drift, and the scene before me faded away to a dull white. Peace descended, touching a desire within. I almost allowed it to take me when I heard Ian call my name. Surfacing slowly, I picked up Clark’s voice, and then the hospital room came into view. How much time passed? I glanced at the clock on the wall and gasped. A mere hour remained until Jake got out of school. How had I lost hours, and where did I go?

  Monica sat up in the bed, an expression of annoyance on her face. “I said I’m fine!”

  I smiled. A doctor stood at her bedside, along with Clark and Isabelle. I swooshed through the wall into the hall, checked that no one looked my way, and materialized. Hoping I could handle the door, I gave it a push and was relieved when Isabelle opened it on the other side. Her brown eyes widened at spotting me, and a second after the soft rose mouth tightened. Isabelle Givens did not like me, and I had no idea w
hy. I could not remember anything in our pasts to cause such a reaction, but then I hadn’t come across her often, even in my small town. The handful of times I had was when Mama got sick, and Jake and I were very healthy naturally. Mama hadn’t stayed in the hospital long, but passed within days of her stay.

  “Ms. Wade,” the doctor intoned, “you have a mild concussion. I advise you to get plenty of rest.”

  “I can do that at home,” Monica insisted.

  I rushed to her bedside. “Monica, you should listen to the doctor. He knows what’s best, and you’ve been through a lot.”

  My friend’s angry gaze burned into mine. I knew what she tried to tell me. I could not afford for her to be stuck in the hospital, but she needed to understand her health came first. I tried to convey this right back at her with my own gaze, and her lip quirked in amusement as if she understood what I tried to do.

  Monica flung the covers away and did not even flinch at the fact that so many people viewed her bare legs dressed as she was in an unflattering hospital gown. She slid to the edge of the bed, and Clark spoke up. “Ms. Wade, I need to talk to you about the accident. It looks like someone might have pushed your car over the bridge deliberately.”

  “Gee, you think?” Monica snapped. She ran a hand over her face and took in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. “Someone tried to kill us.”

  “Us?” Clark frowned. “Was someone else in the car?”

  “Me, I mean.” She gave an unconvincing chuckle. “Just me. Some man driving a…” She gave a general description of the car that had followed us, knowing about cars as much as I did.

  Clark’s expression turned dark. “Did you get a good look at the suspect?”’

  “No, he wore a baseball cap I think.” She looked at me, and I widened my eyes, trying to show her I agreed. Monica hesitated.

  “Go on,” Clark nudged her. “What else can you tell me?”

  “He was thin. At least he seemed to have narrow shoulders, so I assume he was slender.”

  “Could it have been a woman?”

  “I don’t think so.” Monica thought it over and then shook her head. “No, it was a man.

  Clark seemed to come to his own conclusion. “Could it have been Miles Lucas?”

  Once again Monica looked at me, and I shifted uncomfortably. I could not conclude the person who ran us off the road was Miles, but I couldn’t say with certainty it wasn’t. Monica echoed my thoughts, and Clark scratched in his little notebook and tucked it into his shirt pocket.

  “I can provide you with protection, Ms. Wade,” he offered. “Also, when you’re feeling up to it, I would like you to come down to the station so we can discuss this incident further. Libby?”

  I started when he said my name. “Yes?”

  “I can give you a ride to the station now.”

  “Why me?”

  His brows bunched over his eyes, and squirm as I might, I couldn’t escape his knowing look. “I think you know more than you’ve shared with me. We need to discuss it.”

  “I promise you I don’t know anything. Besides, it’s time to pick up my son. With Monica ill, I don’t have anyone to leave him with if I come to the station.” I held up a hand before he could speak. “Before you say you can question me about an attempted murder in my house with my son present, the answer is no, you will not.”

  Clark’s hands worked into fists at his sides as he glared at me. I tried to appear as calm and innocent as possible, all the while aware of Isabelle, the doctor, and Monica’s gazes on me along with the chief of police’s.

  At last, Clark pushed between clenched teeth, “I expect your call in the morning, Libby, and if you don’t call, I will be at your house to pick you up. Is that clear?”

  “Crystal clear, chief.” I smiled. “Have a nice day.”

  Isabelle shuffled her brother from the room, and the doctor left with the reluctant message that he would ready the release papers. I helped Monica dress while attempting to convince her to stay.

  “Monica, I almost lost you. You need to rest.”

  “And who’s going to pick up Jake from school?” she countered.

  “I can do it. Your health is important.”

  “So is yours.”

  I laughed, a humorless sound. “My health can’t be helped at the moment.”

  “And you should know me by now that I’m not going to lay here.”

  “How bout this?” I suggested. “You pick up Jake and then rest while I look after him. Deal?”

  She gave me a look that said she’d like to see me try, but it appeased her, and I soon tucked her into one of two taxis in the entirety of Summit’s Edge. Needless to say, Bernie also made his living restocking supplies and sweeping up at the Laundromat. I gave the excuse of having to take care of an errand as not to ride with them, but in reality I didn’t want to hold my form. Rather, I floated invisible along the streets to my house. I found that while it took time to get there, I expended no energy.

  I waited in the house for Monica and Jake to come home with a plan to seek out Ian the first chance I got.

  Chapter Eight

  “Jake,” I called out to my son in his room. In a little while, his head popped from his doorway. “I was thinking of visiting our neighbor, Ian McClain. Want to come along?”

  Jake stepped into the hall, confusion clouding his young face. “Why?”

  “Because I can’t leave you in the house alone, and Aunt Monica is resting.”

  “I mean why are you visiting him? We never did before.”

  He waited for my answer with a wide, innocent gaze that made me want to shake my head and chuckle. I couldn’t weasel out of giving him an answer that satisfied him, and I didn’t like to tell him to stop asking so many questions—except when I couldn’t take it anymore of course.

  I thought fast and remembered a few facts about Ian. “He’s an expert on history.” He was pretty old after all, and he read a lot. “I think with your trouble in social studies, Ian might be able to help.”

  I waited, expecting my seven-year-old to lecture me about the differences in social studies and history, but to my great relief he was not so advanced, or he recognized my ploy and thought it not worth the effort. I had spent the better part of two hours ducking in and out of visibility in order to conserve energy so I could look after Jake. The plan worked, but now I wanted to visit Ian to make sure he was okay. He deserved that much from me.

  Jake and I left the house, and it was only when we drew up to Ian’s door did I consider whether he had reinstated the barrier, and would Jake be able to pass through it even if I couldn’t. My worries turned out to be unnecessary when Jake jogged up to the door with his usual vigor and proceeded to ring the bell repeatedly.

  “Jake, stop. That’s rude,” I scolded him and tugged his hand away from the bell.

  Just as I thought that maybe the sun had burned Ian and I should let him heal, the door opened. Ian stood several feet away from the light bouncing into his foyer—another faux pas on my part. I should have waited until the sun went down.

  “Perhaps another time is—” I began, but Jake seeing the door wide and Ian standing to the side of it took the situation as an invitation, and he bound into the cool interior. I followed, intending to rein in my son. “I’m sorry to disturb you. I just wanted to see if you were okay after….um…the accident.”

  Ian said nothing but shut the door behind me. Jake exclaimed over a bauble on the hall table, and I opened my mouth to tell him not to touch any of Ian’s things without permission, but Ian spoke.

  “You have not sufficiently replenished your energy, and neither your son nor I can do it for you.”

  I pressed knuckles to my hip. “I know. However, I don’t have a choice. Monica was hurt, so I have to look after Jake. He’s my responsibility, and I want to take care of him.”

  “Look at all these books,” Jake chirped from farther down the hall. I groaned, but I couldn’t tell from Ian’s expression whether we bothered
him or not. He didn’t look like he was about to die, but I noticed white bandages beneath long sleeves. Then I thought of him having to do what he called “feeding.” Was he hungry? Was Jake safe?

  “At sundown, I will go out,” he said as if he read my mind.

  Being summer, I knew the sun wouldn’t give up its reign in the sky until close to nine at night. “Don’t you eat anything else?” I whispered.

  “Not usually.”

  I took his words to mean he could but chose not to, and my motherly instincts kicked in. I headed toward his kitchen, which I had passed previously on the way to the book room. I had enough energy to fix at least a simple meal, and if Jake continued to explore the library, I could wink in and out as necessary and maybe even solidify just my hands.

  Ian’s refrigerator was not plugged in, and his cupboards were all barren. I blinked at him.

  He shrugged. “I forgot to go to the grocery store.”

  “I’ll bet you did.” I shook my head at him. Of course, he never had guests, so there was no need to stock the house with food. “I’ll be just a moment.”

  I zipped across his lawn to mine and then into my house. A light dinner would suffice, a little wine for Ian and milk for Jake. Warm roast beef sandwiches would have to do for the two of them tonight, since Monica had already cooked the meat and it would take minimal effort for me to put together. From the snack drawer I kept stocked for Jake, I grabbed two rice crispy treats and hurried across to Ian’s house.

  Ian nabbed the bags from my hands as soon as I entered. For an expressionless, limited emotion vampire, he was astute at judging how I felt. He dumped everything on the kitchen table, and I sorted, working fast to prepare the meal. The rate my hands prepared astonished me, definitely not what a human could accomplish.

  Just before Jake appeared in the kitchen doorway, Ian shifted his position. I had thought he stood on my right, but the next instant he appeared on my left, blocking me from Jake’s view.

  “I’m hungry, Mom,” Jake said.