Stomach all twisty, I watch Ms. Troges’ face, trying to figure out what that hesitation was about. Why the heck did she sound concerned when she said “specific”? Was I some kind of creepy, abnormal medium when I was alive? What if…?
My jaw clenches. I can’t even form the thought. Thankfully, Rafe cuts me off before I have to.
“Partners?” He grins and lifts both brows. “I don’t have your mad skills, but I did get a lot of experience interacting with the land of the living when hanging around at Blakemore.”
“Hmm, I don’t know.” I tap my chin. “I mean, you do bring a lot to the table, but I feel like I need some more convincing.”
Rafe holds up a finger. “Hang on, think I got something.” He winks, then shifts into fox form.
I’m so shocked I cackle. Loudly. Fox Rafe rolls onto his back, wiggles with his tongue hanging out, then flops back onto his paws to lick my knuckles. It’s cold and wet and delightful all at the same time. Every little shake throws me into more laughter, but I cross my arms.
“Do you really think this is going to work?”
He lets out a little chirping bark. It’s so ridiculously high and adorable that I can’t breathe. Finally, I wave my hand toward the front of the classroom.
“Okay fine, your cuteness has won me over. Get us something to play with.”
Rafe gives me a foxy little grin, then trots away to grab a tennis ball. He scrambles back to me and drops it in front of my crossed legs. When he sits on his haunches, tail flicking back and forth, I arch a brow at him.
“Are you going to stay like that? Are we going to play fetch?”
Rafe chirp barks again, then lets his tongue flop back out and wiggles his backside.
I snort. “Okay. Fetch it is.”
The second attempt at picking something up goes a lot better, and soon Rafe and I have a pretty great game going. After I manage a few rolls that he hunts down quickly, I move to short tosses. I glance around the room, considering giving him a challenge. Quinn and Yasmin have partnered up, and now that he’s not the center of attention, the ghost vampire is doing a much better job handling that frisbee.
I grin, but it dies on my face when I see Dimple Piercing standing about a foot away from me, hands on her hips. “Something wrong?” I ask.
“That’s a little offensive, don’t you think?”
Completely confused, I glance down at my shirt, then around the room again. “What are you talking about?”
Dimple Piercing gestures to Rafe. “Shifters aren’t animals, they’re supes who can change their shape. Playing fetch is something you do with a pet, not a person.”
I blink at her. “Uh-”
“Look, I know you’re missing your memories, so maybe you just don’t remember, but what you’re doing is extremely condescending.”
Rafe chirp barks again, then comes to my rescue. He trots in between us and flips onto his back with a funny little tilt of his head. It almost looks like he’s rolling his eyes at Dimple Piercing. I swallow a laugh and look back up at my accuser.
“I didn’t ask him to shift. That was his idea. Besides, we were going to be throwing it back and forth anyway, what’s the difference?”
Dimple Piercing — I really need to get her name — glares at me. “That’s probably because shifters have all been treated like animals for so long. He has internalized prejudice against himself. You shouldn’t encourage it.”
Fox Rafe lets out a prolonged round of chirp barks that sound a lot like laughter.
“See? He’s degrading himself because he thinks he has to for our entertainment.”
I turn the ball in my hands. “So, you’re saying he can’t think for himself? Isn’t that condescending?”
Twisting onto his paws again, Rafe trots toward Dimple Piercing and bats at a string hanging off one of the rips in her jeans. Though this is insanely adorable, his antics aren’t exactly helping. I snicker as he starts to weave in and out between her feet.
Dimple Piercing takes a step back, trying to avoid his tail as it twists around her legs. “No, I’m trying to help-”
“So you’re a supe savior?” I ask. “Supe Moses? Leading the poor shifters to the promised land?”
Goading’s not nice, but I can’t help it. If Rafe wants to prance around in fox form so he can chase a ball, that’s his business, I’m not going to tell him what he can and can’t do with his power.
Dimple Piercing’s glare sharpens and in her continued backward pedal accidentally steps on Rafe’s tail. He lets out a little yelp, then wisely scurries out of the way of her shoes. He sits by my knee and scratches behind one of his ears with his back paw.
Ms. Troges approaches from the other side of the room. “Melissa, why aren’t you with your partner?”
The glare vanishes from Dimple Piercing’s face. “I’m sorry, Ms. Troges. I was just helping the new students, but I’ll get back to my mat, they don’t seem to want my advice.”
She hovers off, nose in the air, and Ms. Troges faces me and Rafe. “Is there something you’re stuck on?”
“Think we’re doing okay.” I toss the ball into the air and Rafe catches it before it hits the ground.
“Excellent job. Keep up the good work. You’ll both be headed to combat before you know it. Though I would suggest practicing in human form as well, Mr. Warren.” With a wink, Ms. Troges moves on to the next pair as Rafe drops the ball into my hand again.
Now that Dimple Piercing is gone, I furrow my brow at the ghost fox in front of me. “Is this condescending?”
Rolling his head, Rafe nips at the ball, tail flicking back and forth. Guess I’ll take that as a no. I can ask him about it later when I recruit him to help me figure out what happened to Haya’s former roommate. Because if it doesn’t bother him, a lock picking fox shifter will kind of make the perfect spy.
Chapter Nine
Rafe shifts back into human form as we head toward the Rec, a grin immediately springing onto his face. “Wow, that was wild.”
Fists in my pockets, I scuff the heels of my boots against the floor, calculating the right way to ask my question. In the end, I just spit it out. “Did that bother you though? I mean, she’s right, I don’t remember specifics about my life, but I do remember hearing that some shifters are treated like crap. Was it-”
Hooking an arm around my shoulders, Rafe cuts me off with a gentle hip check. “Don’t worry about it. Yeah, some supes push us around, look down on us, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to shift. Or play fetch.” He bumps me again.
I take a deep breath of his cedar scent, surprised at how strong his arm feels. Though he isn’t exactly scrawny, I hadn’t pegged him right off as particularly strong. Another stupid assumption. Those flannel shirts are hiding a whole lot of muscle. Plus, the hug’s all kinds of nice. I hadn’t realized how much I’ve missed this kind of touch.
Warmth scatters through me like tiny droplets from a summer rain. It’s a very odd feeling considering how cold he actually is. Two distinctly opposite sensations colliding all at once. Heat coasts up my neck as my brain dives deep into the gutter. Snapshots of arms and legs tangled between sheets, the pressure of muscle against muscle, the heat of skin against skin, flash across my memory and through my being. They’re only short bursts, but they again bring the question of interpersonal relations to my mind. Not only about what that looked like while I was alive, but also what that might look like in the afterlife.
Now that we’re dead, just how far can we go?
“Though I will say that if you start trying to train me to roll over or some such nonsense,” Rafe says, “we might have to have words.”
“I’ll be sure to avoid that. Maybe we’ll just stick with playing dead.” I chuckle, trying to mentally sidestep my inappropriate thoughts. “Is it...easier to be in fox form?”
Rafe shrugs. “In some ways, yeah. I can see better, hear better, move faster. When I...first died, it was a whole lot easier...” He trails off.
“Y
ou’ll have to tell me about that some time.” When he tenses, I squeeze his ribs, wiggling a knuckle in between them until he snickers. “Only when you’re ready. Maybe it’ll help me remember my death.”
Rafe grins. It’s slightly lopsided, and completely adorable. I can almost see the fox underneath. “If it’ll help.”
“And promise you’ll tell me if I do happen to do something stupid and offensive?”
Rafe hip checks me again. “Deal.”
I grin and dig my knuckle into his side a little more. He snickers and shuffles away from the attack, then falls back into step with me. As we’re crossing the field toward the rec center, I consider bringing up my mission to discover what happened to Haya’s roommate Erin. I need to take advantage of our privacy while I can.
“So, I think something weird is going on.” It’s a clunky opener but gets my point across well enough.
Rafe stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “What do you mean?”
“I mean everybody keeps avoiding my questions about Erin, my roommate’s former roommate.”
“Oh yeah.” Rafe stops in the middle of the grass, rubbing the back of his neck. “Haya and Kaz did both get weird about that. Then Landon’s whole speech about getting twisted...Think that’s what happened to her?”
“Maybe. I sure hope not. If it did, then they’re not talking about it. Probably to keep from scaring us. Still, I’m curious.”
Rafe smirks and starts toward the rec center again. “Team Untwist the Mystery.”
I snicker. “You sure came up with that fast.”
“Long story. But if you do want to do some sleuthing, I’m game. Though just so we’re clear, I’m not going down into any creepy basements. Don’t ask why.” He opens the door for me and sweeps an arm in a sort of overdramatic goofy bow.
I waltz past him, trying to match his dramatic movements and swallowing giggles. Even with all the danger and fear, spending time with Rafe is easy, fun. It takes a bit of the sting out of being dead. And having amnesia. Maybe once I find my body, the afterlife won’t be so bad.
The rec center is a massive building complete with a basketball court, volleyball net, and a ping pong table surrounded by a handful of battered couches. There’s another set of doors on the other side of the room labeled “fields,” which I assume means something like a baseball diamond or tennis court.
Some students hover in midair, tossing or kicking balls back and forth, while others lounge on the couches. A small crowd cheers as a pair of boys with pointy ears battle it out on the ping pong table. Fae don’t usually hang with other supes, but I guess death is the ultimate equalizer.
Yasmin is already in one corner, bumping a volleyball with another girl. I guess everything in here is spelled as well. Haya sits on a couch behind her, scribbling furiously on what looks like graph paper, pausing occasionally to type something into her calculator. Both are wearing casual clothes suited to some kind of physical activity. For about two seconds, I feel grumbly about the fact that I’m still in a pair of jeans, then I remember our handy little ghost trick. I pause and squint my eyes shut, conjuring up something easier to move in.
Rafe laughs. “Nice outfit.”
I give a little spin, lifting into the air to show off a pair of multicolored leggings and a gray tank top with the phrase “I’m here, but I’m going to complain the whole time.” It’s insanely comfortable, and I feel much more prepared to attempt all of the sporty things. Based on this phraseology, and my aversion to this whole idea of catching and throwing things, I’m guessing that this outfit is as close to athletic as I’ll ever get.
“Why thank you.” I smile at Rafe. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
Understatement of the century. Those athletic shorts show off strong legs he must use for some specific sport, and that t-shirt follows the curve of his shoulders to perfection. It would be highly inappropriate to run my hands over them, but all I can think about is finding an excuse to do so. Messy hair falls into his dark eyes, and that grin lights up his entire face as he gives me another little hip check.
Yasmin waves at me with a bright grin on her face. “Hey Rafe! Billie!” She bumps the volleyball in my direction.
Before it even reaches me, I know what’s going to happen. I bat at it like some kind of deranged cat. It bounces off my flailing hands and rolls to the other side of the gym accompanied by a chorus of laughter.
“Sorry,” Yasmin says, chasing after it. “Guess you weren’t a volleyball player in your former life.”
“How dare you make fun of my very special technique?” I laugh, glad when she decides not to test my volleyball skills again.
Yasmin giggles and bumps it back to the other girl. “I’m so sorry. A most poor assumption.”
“Ever play soccer?” Rafe asks me.
I shrug. “Not sure, but willing to give it a try. Though if what just happened two seconds ago is any evidence, I kind of doubt it.”
Yasmin bumps the volleyball in the air a few times before passing it back to her friend. “Never know until you try. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
“You sound like one of those cat posters.” I laugh a little, watching as Rafe scoops a black and white ball out of the ball locker.
He dribbles it a few times off his knees. On the third bounce, he bumps it with his head, then catches it on the top of one of his shoes where it balances perfectly. If possible, his grin brightens even more, and he throws me a wink.
I cross my arms. “Show off.”
“Guilty.” He pops it up again, then kicks it gently in my direction.
Like the incident with the volleyball, I know this isn’t going to end well. I miss it with the side of my foot and instead hit it with a heel, sending it off in a weird direction, and forcing Rafe to run after it. He chuckles and dribbles it back to our little corner.
“Sorry,” I say. “Guess I don’t play soccer either.”
Rafe bounces the ball off his knees again. “Not yet.” He wiggles his brows. “I could teach you.”
“You sure you want that headache? I feel in my bones that this is not where my athletic skill lies.”
One of his brows arches, though he doesn’t lose a second of concentration on his mad ball skills. “What do your bones say about where your athletic prowess does lie?”
Tapping my jaw with a finger, I consider the question just as someone shouts “heads up!” I spin around in time to see a football flying right at my face. Pure instinct kicks in. I catch it inches before it flattens my nose. Like my first night at Locklear, images from a memory play through the room.
I run across a yard after a little boy holding a bright orange football. He giggles when I grab him around the waist, squealing laughter as I tackle him onto the grass, pulling him to my chest as I roll.
A hand touches my shoulder, and a gasp pulls me away from the images before I can dig into them the way Ms. Alvarez suggested. I look up at Rafe. He’s blinking at the space where my memories just played out, lips parted in what I think is surprise.
“What’s wrong?”
“I think…” Rafe runs a hand through his hair. “I think I just saw your memory.”
My brows pop up. “Me running around with a little kid playing football?”
Rafe nods. “As soon as I touched you I caught the very end of it. Sorry, by the way, I definitely didn’t mean to snoop.”
“I mean, it was totally rude,” I poke his ribs and he grins, “but I guess I can forgive you because that’s a pretty epic discovery. I’ll have to ask Kaz if that’s a thing.”
“Ask me if what’s a thing?”
Rafe and I turn to find Kaz a few feet away. Definitely not dressed to do sporty things.
“Can ghosts share life flashes?” I ask, rolling the football between my hands.
Brow furrowed, Kaz rubs his jaw. “It is possible, though it usually takes a lot of practice and concentration to get it right. Why?”
I glance at Rafe. “Rafe touched my s
houlder while I was having one and saw the end of it.”
“How clear were the images?” Kaz asks.
Rafe shrugs. “I didn’t see very much, but pretty sharp, I guess.”
“That’s impressive,” Kaz says. “Most of the time if you’re not focusing all you’ll see are indistinct shapes. Kind of like shadows. Not sure why you’d be able to see it so well. As far as we can tell, only a witch with medium abilities should be able to do that. Though since you are one, Billie, that could explain it. Speaking of mediums though, we do have one who just arrived to help work on your case. He’s at the front with a few questions for you.”
My skin tingles as excitement rushes through me. If I can speak to someone in the land of the living, surely they can help me figure out who I was. Maybe then I can find my body and protect it from an unceremonious torching.
Kaz leads me into Mr. Qureshi’s office and it’s exactly like how you’d imagine a headmaster’s office. Many leather-bound books, leather chairs, wide windows, and an unnecessarily large desk. What I don’t expect are the pictures under the glass on top of the desk. Postcards, children’s crayon drawings, and even a few finger paintings decorate the smooth wood. It’s the cutest thing ever.
Cute’s definitely not the word I’d use to describe the dude in the corner though. If his shaved head, massive shoulders, and ripped jeans didn’t scream dangerous loud enough, the thick scars along his neck and jaw definitely do. Not to mention the fact that his arms are about as big as my waist. His pale eyes coast to me and Kaz when we walk in the door, and he smiles, an expression that throws me way off.
It’s all kinds of gentle and peels away the tough guy exterior.
He stays quiet as Mr. Qureshi stands from his desk. “Ms. Martin, welcome. This is Theodore Carmichael. He works on our cases quite often, and I’m sure he’ll be able to help us dig into your past.”
The big guy takes a step forward, that disarming smile still on his face. “Call me Theo.” His voice is deep and his large hand strong and solid and so, so warm as he shakes mine. “And Mr. Qureshi is right. My order has been helping ghosts for a very long time. It helps that you have medium abilities as well. We might even have a record of you somewhere in our files.”
Ghost Academy: Book One Page 6