Ghost Academy: Book One

by E. C. Farrell

  Theo gasps, his massive chest heaving, skin a few shades paler than I remember. “Ran into a little trouble.”

  “Sounds like an understatement,” Rafe says.

  Head swimming, I crouch in front of him. “What happened?”

  “Xers. Been hiding out from them for almost a week. Had to make sure they’d lost my trail before I came here.” Theo leans the back of his head against the wall.

  “I’ll get one of the Healers,” Kaz says, slipping down the hall.

  Rafe rocks back and forth on his feet. He has to be antsy to leave, to speak to his dad and find out what happened to his ashes. I hate that this is delaying his mission. Maybe whatever Theo has to tell us won’t be super pressing and we can take care of it after I help Rafe.

  Ms. Alvarez zips down the hall seconds later and takes Theo by the shoulders. “Tsk. Such a mess. Come now. I’ll get you fixed up.”

  Theo allows himself to be guided to his feet, but touches my arm before he’s dragged away. “I think I found the home you shared with your brother and sister…” His speech disintegrates into mumbles like he’s fading out of consciousness and he stumbles a little.

  Ms. Alvarez keeps him steady, directing him toward the Healer ward without a word about this massive piece of information. I watch them disappear through the door with my mouth hanging open and my brain whirring until someone places a hand on my back. Looking up, I meet Rafe’s eyes and my stomach clenches.

  “Go with him,” Rafe says. “I have some idea of where my body is, but you’ve got nothing. This is more important.”

  It’s my turn to fight off tears. Everything in me strains to run after Theo and find out whatever it is that he’s discovered. Visiting my childhood home could trigger a massive life flash that fills in so many details I’m missing about myself, could even lead me to my sister.

  But I already promised Rafe I would help him, and I’m not going back on that just because there is a small chance I could possibly explore a house I might have lived in. One the Xers might know about and be watching.

  I cross my arms. “None of that more important nonsense. Theo needs time to recover before he can tell me much anyway. You heard all that mumbling. Let’s deal with your dad first.”

  Rafe’s lips twist to one side. “Are you sure?”

  Lifting my chin, I smile and stuff all my anxiety into a ball in my stomach. “Absolutely. Let’s go talk to Mr. Qureshi.”

  “Okay, but before we leave we can talk to Theo too. If he’s awake enough. Maybe we can strategize.”

  Warmth flushes my chest at his megawatt smile. I lace my fingers through his, then tug him toward the headmaster’s office.

  After only a little resistance from Mr. Qureshi and a glowing recommendation from Kaz about my work at the funeral home, Rafe and I head to Blacksburg. Theo hangs out at the back of my mind. We land in the exact same spot we did together before, but my brain tugs back to Locklear and the injured witch in the Healer ward. Before we left, he provided a few disconnected details, still half-conscious after the trauma he’d been through.

  Mostly what I found out was that he’d gotten attacked outside of Dallas and spent the better part of three weeks zigzagging across multiple states to try and throw the Xers off his scent. By the time he got to Locklear, he was in pretty bad shape and basically passed out the second he stumbled into the healing ward. Ms. Alvarez told us it would take a few days for him to recover.

  So I’m left with the slight possibility that he’s found a home I once lived in. It’s not much to cling to, but I’d rather calm my anxiety with that hope than let it distract me from helping Rafe. He stands in the grass next to me staring through the fence at his house, so close our knuckles almost touch. I’m itching to nudge him into action. Instead, I scan our surroundings for any sign of Xers.

  So far, the only sound is the brush of leaves in the wind and if I strain, the gurgle of the creek and car tires on a far off road. But an attack could ruin this quiet at any moment, and the faster we can get out of here, the better. Still not wanting to rush Rafe, I pull out my Jo Staff. At the very least I can be prepared to shield us if necessary.

  Rafe glances down at me and grins.

  “What?”

  He shrugs. “Nothing. Just glad I have one less thing to worry about tonight. Any Xer who thinks about attacking is going to wish they hadn’t.”

  I spin my staff. “You got that right. Now go K.O. your unfinished daddy business.”

  Rafe’s dimple disappears again and his nostrils flare, but he gulps in a breath and nods. “Yes ma’am.”

  With a heavy sigh, he slips through the gate and I follow, my senses still on high alert. A small square of light breaks the darkness in a far corner of the back yard. It comes from what looks like a shed. Though somewhat shabby, it’s well-sanded and sturdy. Unlike the gray wood of the house and the fence surrounding it, the shed is built with warm, almost rosy looking planks.

  It also smells intensely of cedar, just like Rafe.

  Curiosity nudges me to the window. A lanky man with a thick beard and sad eyes sits on a bench next to a carpenter’s table, illuminated by a single bulb in a bare lamp. He bends over a small piece of wood, running his knife along it in smooth, even strokes. A pair of glasses sits on the very tip of his nose. Beyond the lines and weight of years, I can see Rafe’s bone structure, his jaw.

  I rub Rafe’s shoulder. “You ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” He swallows and runs a hand through his hair a few times. “Be on the look out, huh?”

  “Holler if you need me.”

  I give him one final squeeze before he slips through the wall, then turn sideways to keep an eye on things, and watch what happens. A little nosy, but I’m also here to help. If I don’t know what’s going on in there I definitely can’t do that.

  Rafe pauses a few feet inside the shed and takes a deep breath. Then another, just watching his dad cut away at that wood, giving form and art to something shapeless and merely functional. He works slow and steady, never rushing in his work. With each stroke of the knife a layer of tension slides out of his shoulders. He sets it down to brush his fingers across one of the curves, blowing flecks of sawdust away from his work.

  At that moment, Rafe’s form ripples slightly. “Dad?”

  Mr. Warren jumps a little, nearly dropping the piece of wood. His eyes widen and his mouth drops. I clench my teeth, nerves raw as Mr. Warren’s heels scrape against the floor. He breathes heavily for a moment and I chance a glance back out at the yard and the dimly lit house. No sign of movement, so far.

  “Rafe?” Mr. Warren asks in a harsh whisper. “You’re here.”

  I look back in through the window and my throat clenches. Tears fill Mr. Warren’s eyes. His face flushes. Setting down his piece of wood, he eases onto his feet and extends a hand to his son.

  “Are you...can I…?”

  Rafe steps forward, enveloped in the kind of hug he deserves, ducking his head into his dad’s neck. Tears warp my vision. I sniff and glance around again to give them a moment of privacy. All is still quiet, though now I catch some movement in the house. Rafe’s mom — I grimace at the undeserved moniker — walks into the kitchen, a tumbler in her hand.

  Hopefully she’ll stay in there, but I’ll have to keep an eye on her. Leaning my head against the wall next to the window, I watch Rafe’s mom, and listen to his conversation with his father.

  “I’m sorry, Dad,” Rafe says in a thick voice. “I shouldn’t have—”

  “Stop, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Mr. Warren sounds much steadier than before, much stronger. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I never stood up for you, never once. I failed you as a father and I’m so sorry.”

  Tears dump down my face and I can’t help but look back into that shed. Rafe’s staring at the ground, his eyes red rimmed, hands in his pockets. Tension twists through his jaw, winds through his forearms.

  “I didn’t realize how mad I was at you for that.” He swall
ows.

  My heart swells with no small amount of pride. Admitting something like that can’t be easy, especially considering the admiration I heard in Rafe’s voice before when he’d described their relationship.

  “But I know she hasn’t exactly treated you great either,” Rafe says.

  Looking back out into the yard, I try not to snort, though Mr. Warren does. “Sometimes it’s hard to stand up to the people you love, but that’s no excuse for me not protecting you. And now I’ve lost you forever.” He clears his throat. “Why are you back? Is there something I can do to help?”

  I only realize then that Mrs. Warren isn’t in the kitchen anymore. Shoulders tight, I squint into the living room as Rafe explains that he needs to complete his unfinished business before he can pass on. The sliding glass door opens and Mrs. Warren steps out into the yard. I grit my teeth, praying she doesn’t decide to visit the shed.

  She walks to the edge of the cement porch and lights a cigarette. It casts shifting shadows across her face, underscoring the bags under her eyes. A part of me wants to feel sorry for her. She did lose a daughter after all. But the memory of her digging her claws into Rafe’s back long before this happened resurfaces and I clench my stick until my knuckles hurt.

  Breaking another glass won’t do any good. It might even make things worse.

  She huffs out a smoke-filled groan and stomps toward the shed. I swallow a curse, trying to think fast. Maybe now would be a good time to break some glass. But since she didn’t bring it outside with her, that’s probably not going to work. With the presence of Xers here a few days ago, I also don’t want to do anything too weird. Ghostiness will definitely draw them back here.

  Mrs. Warren is a few feet from me when I come up with an idea.

  Scrunching my nose, I concentrate on a tree branch closer to the porch. Though we haven’t practiced corporeal telekinesis in class yet, if Rafe can shatter glass, surely I can break a little wood with enough concentration. Thoughts of how this woman hurt her son fuel my anger. I focus that heat on a bend in that branch. A crack kills the quiet in the backyard and Mrs. Warren stops.

  She glances around, then curses at the wind and takes another step toward the shed. One final push sends the branch to the ground. This time, she nearly jumps out of her shoes and spins around. With another curse she stomps to the branch lying a few feet from the fence.

  I turn back to the shed and nearly ram into Rafe. He clenches the urn in his arms, focus aimed over my shoulder at his mom. Grabbing the sleeve of his shirt, I pull him toward the fence, and away from danger.

  “What happened?” he asks.

  “She wandered outside and was headed for the shed. I broke a branch to distract her so she wouldn’t interrupt you and your dad.”

  “Thanks. Still need to deal with my mommy issues, but not tonight.”

  I smile up at him. “Definitely not. One thing at a time. Recover from this first, then you can deal better, right?”

  Rafe nods. “Right.”

  “Now let’s get those ashes back to Locklear.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Kaz meets us in the lobby, grinning the moment he sees the urn in Rafe’s arms. “You did it!”

  Eyes still a bit glassy from tears, Rafe nods, then tilts the smooth wooden container out a little to get a better look at it. Dark rings ripple up the curved edge and along the rounded lid. It’s simple. Beautiful. Just like Rafe. I can imagine his dad sitting on his bench and working on it, all the time thinking about his son, maybe even considering his failures as a father. Maybe this unfinished business stuff helps the living as much as it does the dead.

  “Your dad did such a good job,” I say. “Is it...weird…um…?” How do I even ask that question?

  “Holding my remains?” Rafe lifts his brows. “Yeah. Just a little. Like, I’m in here, but also out here. This could possibly lead to an existential crisis. Maybe it’s better if I don’t think about it too much.”

  “You can have as much time with it as you need,” Kaz says with a slight smile. “Now that it’s on campus it’s relatively safe. Whenever you’re ready, we can decide how to deal with it. Unless you just want to keep it in your room.”

  “I can do that?”

  Kaz shrugs. “Sure, as long as it doesn’t freak out your roommate.”

  I chuckle. “Somehow I don’t think Quinn will have a problem with it.”

  Rafe grins. “Hopefully not. In that case, I’m going to go put it in the room. Be back in a bit.”

  With that, he disappears down the hall, leaving me way more relieved than I have business feeling. Kaz nudges me with a shoulder. “Went well, huh?”

  “Not bad. I had to distract his mom so she wouldn’t ruin his perfect moment with his dad.” I wince. “It was a little dangerous after the Xers caught us out there, but I think it worked out okay.”

  “What’d you do?”

  “Broke a branch off a tree behind her.”

  Kaz snorts. “Been there. One time I had to crack this gorgeous china tea pot to help out another ghost. It was kind of sad, but they might be able to do kintsugi.”

  The odd word sounds like a sneeze, so I grin and say, “Bless you.”

  Smirking, Kaz leans against the wall. “Sorry. Tsugi is a Japanese word that means ‘to mend’. Kintsugi is this specific kind of lacquer repair where when they put the pieces back together, they put gold over the new crack too. Makes the broken object look beautiful in a different way.”

  “Dude, that’s awesome.” I kind of love the idea of drawing attention to the former damage, but doing so in such a way that it’s honored. Kind of like Rafe’s urn — the ugly of death stored in a gorgeous container. I wind a curl around a finger until it hurts. “I’m a little worried though, I think Rafe might need to speak to his mom at some point too.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with taking steps toward unfinished business slowly. Especially now that you have his remains here at Locklear. We still may have to worry about an attachment object, but those aren’t typically in as much danger as remains are. It’s about as hard for Xers to pinpoint what those are as it is for us.”

  My stomach twists, and I glance at the door to the Healer ward. “Right. Slow and steady. Unless you’re missing a massive chunk of your life, right?”

  “Don’t worry,” Kaz says. “Theo’s discovery might be super helpful. You never know what going to old stomping gounds might do.”

  Over the next few days, I cling to this hope. Every morning I stop by the Healer Ward to check on Theo. An extra dose of guilt curdles in my gut whenever I walk through that door. My motivations for visiting him are almost as selfish as my reasons for not breaking up with Rafe yet.

  And the longer I put it off, the deeper I fall for that adorable fox shifter.

  Which means it’s going to suck even more when I have to break things off with him. I lie on my bed, both arms covering my face, and groan in a most pathetic fashion. Apart from my emotional turmoil, this day has been somewhat perfect. A slow wake up to warm sunlight floating into our room, meals at our own pace, and a game of pool with Rafe. Apparently, his shark skills are limited to cards because I beat him three times.

  Saturdays are still the best, even when you’re dead.

  Haya laughs at my melodramatic moanings and flops onto the edge of my mattress. “That bad, huh?”

  “I am the worst ghost who exists in the world.”

  “Now that’s just prideful. Not a good look on you Billie.” She pokes my ribs and I burst into ridiculous laughter. “There is no solid evidence proving this ridiculous hypothesis.”

  “Seriously though.” I push myself up against the headboard. “I’ve got to break up with Rafe.”

  Haya makes a face. “Why?”

  “Why?” I lean forward. “Because I’m starting to think I want to stick around as a Ghost Guide. What happens when we get in too deep? What if when he finishes all his business, he decides not to pass on because of me? Kaz says ghosts get messed up i
f they don’t move on when they’re supposed to.”

  Haya purses her lips and adjusts her glasses. “So, just because things might get a little hard near the end you’re going to K.O. your relationship right now?”

  I shrug.

  “If we were all still alive, would you decide to break up with him just because one of you might die one day?”

  “It’s not the same thing.” I sweep my hair out of my eyes. “He’ll have to make a choice and I don’t want to mess that up.”

  Haya lifts her brows. “Have you asked him about it?”

  I open my mouth, then shut it again. Her question sounds similar to the one I asked Melissa when she made assumptions about why Rafe shifted in class. So far, all I’ve done is listen to Landon and beat myself up about being selfish. Maybe I’m not the worst ghost in the world, but I sure have been dense.

  “Now why would I do that? It sounds way too logical and reasonable.” I cover my burning face with my hands and Haya giggles.

  “It’s easy to get caught up when you’re in love.”

  “Calm down, friend, not sure I’m there yet.”

  Haya winks. “Yeah okay.” She bumps me with her foot. “You’ve got serious heart eyes.”

  “With that, I will not argue.”

  “So, what are you waiting for? Go talk to him.”

  Giving her a friendly little swat, I lung forward and wrap her in a hug. “You’re a good friend. And you’re going to be an awesome Ghost Guide.”

  “That’s what I’m here for. Quite literally.” Her voice quivers slightly.

  I lean back and scrutinize her face. “Are you okay?”

  Haya picks at a loose string on her button up. “It’s nothing. You have an important conversation ahead of you.”

  I reach out and take her hand. “Hey, what’s going on with you is important too. Rafe can wait a bit. What’s bugging you?”

  Letting out a sigh, Haya allows her eyes to slide shut. “I still haven’t had any signs that I might be a Ghost Guide. I’m afraid I might’ve been wrong about what I’m supposed to do in the afterlife, but I still don’t really want to move on. It’s rather overwhelming.”