Spirits of Spring (The Haunting Ruby Series Book 4)

by Joy Elbel

  Zach must have sensed my momentary crappiness because he quickly added, “But of course now I’m glad that I did. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Ruby.”

  I smiled but inside I was even more troubled. Our relationship had been anything but a smooth one. In fact, it had been fraught with peril and dishonesty practically from day one. The lies—most of them anyway—were behind us now and life would be so much more normal once we were out of Charlotte’s Grove. All we needed was a fresh start and some distance between us and the horrors of the past year. Things would be perfect in just a few short months.

  “I feel the same way about you, too. I wish things could be different between you and your dad. Your family always seemed so perfect to me, undamaged and unflawed. Maybe you guys can work out your differences once you’re out of the house. You know, maybe it will make you appreciate each other more.”

  Zach nodded his head in agreement. “I hope you’re right about that. Things weren’t always like this. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t brought up the past in a long time. My car accident detonated that dormant bomb for some reason. I have a feeling that it triggered some memories in him of some sort, memories of what happened to him his senior year.” He shrugged his shoulders and stared off into the distance. “I don’t really know.”

  “You may never know that answer. But one thing you do need to know is this—you have to find a way to forgive yourself for your grandpa’s death. I know it’s a terrible chain of events that you continue to link back to yourself but it wasn’t your fault. I know what guilt feels like. It will eat away at you from the inside out until you find a way to let it go. I’m kind of an expert in that field. I found a way to break free of my memories—I’ll help you do the same.”

  Being the strong one in the relationship was a role I wasn’t used to playing. But if I’d proved anything in the time that Zach and I had been together, it was that I was capable of handling more than I ever dreamed possible. Time to put on the leather catsuit and super hero cape. Super Girlfriend to the rescue!

  “It isn’t possible, Ruby. But thanks for trying. Meeting Lucas, remembering your talk with Lee while you were dying— those are the only reasons that you got past it all. Those are opportunities I’ll never have.”

  His negativity nearly knocked the wind right out of me. Where was the sunny, optimistic Zach that I used to know? Was he always this bleak and devoid of hope? How was it possible for someone that I was so very close to to keep this much pain hidden beneath the surface for so long? He was more like me than I ever could have imagined. But I wasn’t going to let him drown alone in that cesspool of despair. At the very least, I would inflate us both a raft so that we could drift through it together.

  “It is possible,” I declared confidently. “It’s just impossible for you to see that now. I know that the way I solved this problem isn’t a viable option. We’ll come up with a different way—something that works for you, okay?”

  “Okay,” he mumbled back unenthusiastically. “I’m tired but I think I’m ready to drive home now. I have to be up early for work and tomorrow is your first day back, too, right?”

  “Yeah, I’m kinda happy to be going back.” It was clear to me that our conversation concerning his family issues was over—at least for now. There was a limit to how much depressing conversation should be had in one day and we surpassed that limit about five minutes earlier. There was one go-to topic that I always knew would put him in a good mood so I took a deep, cleansing breath and shook off my black cloud so that I could try to do the same for him.

  “So, Rachel tells me that you are organizing a dog show to raise money for the shelter. I must hear details.” Stunned by the fact that he himself had forgotten to tell me about it, Zach launched into a very excited account of what Andy had dubbed his most brilliant idea yet. At the mere mention of the shelter, I could see his eyes light up and his recently hardened heart go soft. It’s a good thing that I enjoyed hearing him talk about work because it was the only topic of conversation for the rest of the ride home. Even Clay, who rejoined us only once he realized we were about to leave, seemed interested in Zach’s stories about the shelter. I had to remember to thank him for giving us privacy when we needed it. He was the best ghost BFF a girl could ask for.

  When my alarm went off the next morning, I wasn’t so sure about how happy I was to be going back to work. Alarms on weekends should be illegal. Any time earlier than ten on a weekend shouldn’t even exist. It was a crime against nature to pull yourself out of bed so early on a Saturday morning. But I did it anyway because I knew that once I was fully awake, I would be glad that I did. Rita was gracious enough to give me my job back and I couldn’t disappoint her again on the grounds of sheer laziness this time.

  By mid-afternoon, I was wishing that I had bucked responsibility and stayed in bed. First, I got disapproving looks and a very bluntly disappointed “I thought you quit” from Mrs. Tuttle. Shortly after she left, a bevy of old busybodies entered the shop. I smelled trouble instantly and it smelled like a mixture of arthritis cream, overly powdery perfume, and gossip.

  They weren’t regulars at Something Wick-ed which set my antennae on high alert from the get go. I’d worked there long enough to recognize most faces as they walked in the door even if I didn’t know their names. People didn’t normally flock to candle shops in groups which intensified my paranoia and rightly so. They weren’t there to shop, they were there to gawk. At me, the sideshow ghost whispering freak.

  Either their hearing aids needed new batteries or they simply didn’t care if I overheard them talking not so nicely about me—my best guess was the latter. No, they had no qualms about tearing me apart piece by brutal piece while I stood there and listened to every word. By now, I was kind of used to being an oddity on display so I barely even flinched at their harsh commentary. Let’s see, the words “evil”, “godless”, and “witch” all got plenty of airtime but when they started talking about Zach, I almost lost it. They had the audacity to insinuate that I must have him under a wicked spell—that it was the only way a boy that handsome would ever date someone like me.

  “Good customer service be damned,” I whispered under my breath as I realized that I’d taken enough abuse and decided that it was time to ask them to leave. Rita would understand and back me up on my decision, I was sure of it. If I happened to be wrong, then I would merrily go on my way back to the land of the well-rested and unemployed.

  Before I had the pleasure of driving out the torch bearing villagers, a much bigger problem walked through the door. And I do mean that literally. The tattooed behemoths from Spring Avenue sauntered into the shop with all of the swagger of super blinged out hip hop stars. Their presence made my other customers seem like Santa’s happy elves in comparison. The women abruptly halted their assault on me and whispered—apparently they didn’t need new batteries after all—amongst themselves as they delicately steered around the hulks and out the door.

  If my miserable luck were immortalized by a cartoonist, I knew exactly what the thought bubble above my head would currently say. “Please watch your step as you exit the frying pan. The fire is directly below you. Enjoy your stay.”

  I knew it was insane of me to even bother hoping that they were there to buy candles and not because they recognized me from our encounter on the street that day. Shane warned me not to say anything about what I saw and I was all too happy to oblige him. Their victim made his escape while Shane was distracted by me, though, and I was sure that they were here to repay me for that favor. I decided to play it cool and pretend that I had no idea who they were. Ignorance was my only potential weapon.

  “Hello,” I said as casually as physically possible given the fact that I felt like I was about to go into cardiac arrest. “If you’re here for last minute Easter candles, you’re a little late. I sold the only two I had about an hour ago.”

  I managed to keep eye contact with Shane throughout that entire thinly veiled attempt at no
nchalant customer service but averted my gaze as soon as I could. There was something about his dark eyes and heavy brows that would have scared me even if I had met him while he was singing in a church choir. The heavy amount of ink I saw on him that day on Spring Avenue was mostly hidden now beneath a hoodie but the thick tribal lines gracing his neck stood out proudly like a badge of war. There was a time when I used to think that tattoos on a guy were hot. After meeting this bruiser, I changed my mind. They were scary, infinitely scary.

  “We ain’t here for no candles,” Dylan announced in a classic prison yard tough guy voice. I didn’t get a good look at him the first time I saw him so I discretely sized him up. He was slightly shorter and less muscular than Shane—but still no match for a creampuff like me. He didn’t have as many visible tattoos, either, but he still seemed every bit as dangerous. As a matter of fact, he actually frightened me even more than Shane did. While Shane’s eyes formed the windows to a world of cold and calculating thoughts, Dylan’s did the exact opposite. There didn’t seem to be anything hiding behind his—no thoughts, no emotions. He was like a radio controlled robot set to mindless destruction and Shane seemed to be the one holding the remote.

  Shane flashed Dylan a menacing look and he faded back into the background. “What he meant to say was that we aren’t here for candles,” he said, reaching out a massive hand toward me and gently tugging on the streak of red in my hair. “We’re here to talk to Ruby.”

  The combination of his touch and hearing the sound of my name on his lips sent me into an instant state of panic. How did he find out my name and where I worked? And why? I tucked my hands into my back pockets casually in an effort to get to my phone but then realized that I had left in on the counter after ringing up my last customer. Staying calm was the next thing I tried to do and that endeavor ended just as poorly.

  My first instinct was to lie and say that I wasn’t Ruby but it seemed to be too late for that. The highlights in my hair proved to be a dead giveaway every time. Even though I desperately hated the color green, I was wishing that I’d had a terrible incident at the salon so that I could say that my name was Emerald. Damn those girls at Mesmer-Eyes Beauty Salon and Spa for being so good at their jobs!

  Unable to see any other option, I said, “I’m Ruby. What do you want?” I tried to sound like a leather-clad biker chick, like someone streetwise and fully capable of taking care of herself. As I said the words, I pictured myself in the role— confident to the point of cockiness. If I hadn’t been able to hear my own voice, I would have believed it worked. Except that I could hear my own voice—every word, every syllable—as it squeaked and cracked its way out of my mouth. I sounded like a cartoon frog with laryngitis.

  To make up for sounding as scared as I felt, I began straightening up the store as though their presence meant nothing to me. That and I was making my way slowly back to the counter in case I needed my phone. Miraculously, I was successful, too, until I turned my back for one second and soon sensed someone hovering over my shoulder. My stab at faking self-composure cracked and I sent an entire display of candles crashing to the floor.

  “Looks like you lost your head,” Shane announced as he presented me with the decapitated body of a mermaid from the new line of sculpted, sea-inspired pillars.

  That one odd piece of my brain that functioned differently than most people’s brains did applauded his witty remark. His comment solidified my theory that he was both the brains and the brawn in that duo. Once I was done admiring his play on words, I went back to being scared and the stupid words started rolling off my tongue.

  “I didn’t say anything about what I saw the other day. I don’t care what happened. I don’t want to get involved.” A light bulb brighter than any Thomas Edison could have dreamed of inventing went off somewhere behind his dark eyes. “I knew I’d seen you before! Red car, Spring Avenue. You drove by at a very inappropriate time.”

  Now I was left steeped in not only fear but curiosity as well. If what I saw that day wasn’t the reason for their visit, what was? And why did I have to go and be stupid enough to mention that incident?

  “What do you want from me?” I shouted out in frustration. Wasn’t it bad enough that I had Misty, random ghost encounters, way too much homework, and Zach’s family issues to deal with? Did I forget to mention Misty? And of course, Clay, who had been quietly and oddly observing everything from afar from the moment they walked in. I didn’t need one more thing to add to my stress, now did I?

  “What I want,” Shane responded sternly, “Are some answers, Ghost Girl. What did Clay tell you about the night he died?”

  In a flash, Clay was standing directly between me and Shane—so close, that I was shocked to see that Shane didn’t react to his presence. “Stay calm, Ruby. Don’t say anything to him. Tell him you have no idea who I am or what he’s talking about.”

  Like a good puppet, I did as he instructed. “I don’t know who you’re talking about. I don’t know anything.” Even though I knew that Clay was incapable of protecting me, I felt so much more stable with him as a buffer. I recited that lie easier than any that had come before it.

  “Then what brought a rich girl like you to our neighborhood? Did you get lost on the way to the mall?” Shane queried with narrowed eyes and overt sarcasm. “Clay always did have a thing for rich girls. Pretty ones, too.”

  At the mere hint of a mention of his ex-girlfriend, Clay flared with anger. “I swear to God, if I ever find out that he touched Sophie, I’ll….” Clay trailed off, obviously realizing that even if he did find out, there wasn’t much he could do about it.

  I didn’t know what to say next so I stood there stupidly waiting for a prompt from Clay whose mind was visibly ten thousand miles away from me and my current predicament. Briefly, the information I may or may not have garnered regarding Sophie’s whereabouts flickered into my mind. Once this drama was over, I needed to follow up on that lead. Clay needed to know what happened to Sophie after she left Pennsylvania. That and the identity of his murderer were the only things that could help him move on. And after Shane and Dylan’s impromptu visit to Something Wick-ed, I was certain that I had the first part of that equation neatly solved.

  With no backup from Clay in sight, I decided to wing it on my own. “Yes, I did get lost. I haven’t lived in Charlotte’s Grove long. I made a wrong turn and ended up in your neighborhood. It won’t happen again—Scout’s Honor.” As soon as I uttered Clay’s catch phrase, I knew I’d made another mistake. And so did Shane. He raised one bushy eyebrow and grinned triumphantly.

  “I did my homework—I know exactly how long you’ve lived in this town. And I also know a lie when I see one. I’m giving you one chance and one chance only—if you know how Clay died, I suggest you tell me now.”

  His words were ominous but his expression was something different, something unreadable. He killed Clay or had his brainless drone Dylan do it for him—there was no mistaking that fact. But he was hiding something else, something worse. What could possibly be worse than cold blooded murder? I didn’t want to fathom a guess and I certainly didn’t want to find out firsthand. Based on the way he phrased his question, though, my answer was the absolute truth.

  “I heard that he drowned in Silver Lake almost two years ago—long before I moved here. All I know are the rumors that it wasn’t an accident but that the case is officially closed. I don’t know how it happened and I don’t know any more details.”

  Shane sized me up for a moment in complete silence while analyzing my words. When that excruciatingly long moment passed, he relaxed his facial muscles and gave me an odd half-smile. “Well, I’m going to keep my eye on you anyway. If you find any more information, you better bring it to me.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief as Dylan took his cue and opened the door. I’d grown to despise the tinkling of the little bell that hung on it, but it was now the sound of an angel getting her wings—me being the angel in question. Every muscle in my body relaxed in one fluid moti
on. I was home free. Until Shane offered his parting words.

  “Don’t make me come to Rosewood to force it out of you.” When the door to Something Wick-ed finally swung shut behind them, that stupid bell resounded again and triggered yet another weird association in my brain. When I was twelve years old, I read a gothic horror novel about a man who was buried alive. In the Victorian era, people feared that fate so much that they requested to have bells installed inside of their coffins just in case. In the novel I read, the man inside that pine box slowly drove himself insane with the constant ringing of the bell that no one could hear. He died panicked and alone in the most terrifying way possible, only to be found mere seconds after his demise.

  Yet again, I found myself wondering if I was going to live to see my eighteenth birthday. How many more times could I be saved by the bell before that chime went undetected?

  21. Another One Bites the Dust

  Between customers, Clay and I discussed Shane’s and Dylan’s visit until it was time to close the shop. We argued back and forth over what my next best move would be. Clay wanted me to drop the whole thing, suggesting that over time, I would find a way to deal with our now seemingly unbreakable bond. I countered with the argument that if he weren’t so afraid of facing Sophie, I may have been able to sidestep this kind of ugliness from the very beginning. I wavered back and forth over whether or not to turn the matter over to the police immediately after work. Clay begged me not to out of fear that I would end up in the same condition that he was in. In the end, we both agreed that what I needed to do most right now was not panic or make any sudden moves. A conversation with Shelly about the matter was also on the agenda. I was finished with making dangerous decisions without consulting a trusted opinion. I may still be crazy but I was done being stupid.