A Quarrel Called: Stewards Of The Plane Book 1

by Shannon Wendtland

  “It depends on what you mean by hungry.” I could swear she almost purred.

  “Eggs and bacon, toast, juice. You know, heart attack breakfast food.”

  “Actually, I have to get going. My boss needs me to come in tonight to take care of some paperwork. But,” she slid over to be closer to where I perched on the edge of the bed, “maybe we could do breakfast after… Saturday night – or should I say, Sunday morning?”

  I felt just a tiny bit disappointed that she had to leave, but the promise of more to come was enough to keep the smile squarely on my face. “That could be arranged,” I said. “Though I can’t promise not to eat the bacon between now and then.”

  “Maybe I’ll just have some sausage then,” she said, giving me a wicked-naughty grin.

  I couldn’t help it. I got another hard-on.

  It’s probably just as well that she left right after that because I realized that I still had the USB stick she had given me in my pocket and a couple of sets to put together before Saturday night.

  I plugged the memory stick into my rig and found a high quality rip of “Riders on the Storm” by The Doors. Yeah, she knows my style. I could definitely work with this.

  50. MELODY

  I knew I was being difficult, moody, irritable, irritating, but I just couldn’t help myself. What was my deal? Sam was allowed to like a girl, wasn’t he? He’d been after me for so long that it should have been a relief that he had someone else to get excited about. Someone else to talk to on the phone. Someone else… that was it, wasn’t it? I was one of those girls. One of those that wanted to have her cake and eat it, too.

  Damn, I hated girls like that. All wishy-washy and no common sense. I heaved a big sigh and threw myself back on my bed. Gawd.

  I laid there for a while trying not to dwell on the whole Lily situation and thought about seeing if Tara was up for a little TV time. We hadn’t done a sleepover in forever, and that suddenly sounded like a great idea. Stupid movies, popcorn, chocolate, soda, gossip… I dialed her number, suddenly feeling much better.

  “Hey,” I said, already walking into the living room to peruse the DVD selection. “Wanna come over and watch stupid movies and eat junk food?”

  “That would be fun, except I already promised to go to dinner with G. and his dad tonight. We’re going out to that new Cajun place on Main.” She sounded breathy and excited. “I’m going to wear that dress you gave me last year. The one I always thought was too dressy.”

  I remembered that dress. I had really liked it, but I didn’t have the boobs to fill it out properly and it was all saggy on top. When Tara put it on, it looked like a completely different dress. I mean, wow. “Hey, that sounds great. Okay then, maybe over the weekend?”

  There was a pause on the other end of the line and I could hear the rustling of fabric. She was shimmying into the dress, I guessed.

  “Okay. How about Saturday night? We could do the Spirit Board thing again,” she added, like it was an afterthought. I knew it wasn’t.

  “I… don’t know. I’m not trying to be a chicken, but I just feel like – it’s a lot to take in. Before when it was just ‘Matthew’s Ghost’ I could deal with it. But after the other night – Tara you weren’t there, you didn’t see. It was awful. And then with them swarming over G. like a nest of water moccasins, it was”—I shuddered—“just about the worst thing I could ever imagine. I’m not anxious to go through that again.”

  “I’m sorry, Mel. I’m not trying to push just to make you uncomfortable – really, I’m not. It’s just that… I have this feeling in the back of my mind that we’re running out of time. You know?”

  Not really. “So will you come over Saturday then, even if we don’t do the Spirit Board thing?”

  “Yeah, I mean, sure! We’re BFFs, why wouldn’t I want to come over?” She laughed into the phone and I was relieved, because it actually sounded like she meant it.

  “Great. Have fun breaking hearts tonight,” I said.

  “Oh, I will.”

  She hung up, I hung up, and then a few minutes later my phone chirped with a picture of her in the dress. If G. was able to hold a conversation without attention-span issues, I’d be amazed, because Tara looked hawt.

  So it was just me, by myself, again. Gramps was already lying down for an early bedtime, and Gram was out at her bridge club, likely fleecing the other ladies like the card shark she was. I could try to call Brittney or Shelby, but the last time I had tried to talk to either of them, they either blew me off or else acted as if I were about to sprout a second head. That left TV at home by myself, a movie at the theater by myself, or… what about a fire in the chiminea, on the back patio, and some stargazing?

  The idea of spending some time outside appealed to me a lot. I didn’t have to worry about sleeping—or rather not sleeping—in my room, as somehow the open air and green grass and trees made me feel safer than the house did. I wondered why that was – maybe because I was grounded when I was outside?

  I took my time gathering my supplies since it wasn’t quite dark out yet. I grabbed a beach towel so large it could be mistaken for a blanket, matches and an old newspaper to start the fire, a glass of sweet tea with lemon, a plate of freshly made sugar cookies, and of course, my laptop, just in case I wanted to look anything up on the Internet while I was sitting out there.

  I settled in to watch the play of colors from the sunset over the tops of the trees and the clubhouse, and I felt good about my decision to have some outside time. Finally the sun was down far enough that the colors had faded to a range of orange-purple-black, and I decided to light the fire.

  Texas in summer is hot, and Texas nights are no different. But somehow, a fire at night, even on a hot one, was comforting. The kindling was dry so the fire started with little effort – I almost didn’t need the paper, and soon it was crackling along, throwing small sparks and dancing shadows across the lawn. I made fists with my toes in the grass and took a sip from my glass of tea. For the first time in days, I was able to pretend I was a normal teenage girl again.

  The bubbling in my feet felt good, and as the fire popped and cracked, I reached over to grab a small stick of cedar and throw it into the chiminea. The smell of burning cedar was one of my favorite campfire smells, and tonight it smelled just as good as ever. I breathed the aroma in, nice and deep, and sighed on the exhale. A few more times and I actually felt a little drowsy, eyelids heavy, and was pleased, since I hadn’t gotten any quality sleep since the episode in my room.

  And that’s when I heard his voice. It was a whisper at first, tugging at the back of my mind, and I tried to ignore it.

  “Leave me alone, Matthew. I’m sleepy.”

  “Melody.” He sounded far away.

  I ignored him. I didn’t want to open my eyes and be back in the real world. This dreamy twilight place was much more pleasant.

  And then he was there, right in front of me, not just a silhouette, but a solid, blood-stained figure. He looked like he was in pain. One of his hands reached up to clutch his chest and he grimaced. There was an inky black cloud forming between the fingertips on his chest; it was beginning to swell and billow. In a moment, he would be lost to me.

  “MELODY.”

  I jerked awake, my heart thumping in my chest. “What?” I looked around for the source of the voice, but there was no one there. No Gramps, no Gram, no Matthew.

  The fire in the chiminea was just about burned to ashes, and the sky was completely dark now, except for the orange glow from streetlights down the way.

  Shit. What did it mean? I didn’t see any creatures from the night before, and I didn’t feel that icky dread feeling. Instead I couldn’t get the image of Matthew in pain out of my head, and I knew that whatever I was going to do, it had to be done soon. Now I felt like Tara – like we were running out of time.

  I fished my phone out of my pocket and sent her a text message.

  If we’re going to do this, let’s do it now.

  Now?
r />   Right now.

  Just a minute,she replied. A minute or two passed by and she sent another reply. We’ll be right there. Tell Sam. We’ll need him, too.

  Why? I asked, not feeling like I wanted to interrupt Sam and Lily in the middle of something.

  I’ll tell you when I get there.

  51. SAM

  I pushed through the clubhouse door, arms loaded with bags of chips, sodas, and my rig. Tara said I needed it for tonight’s Spirit Board session, though I thought it might be overkill since the phone app thing worked so well last time. Why bother with anything more complicated? Besides, I resented dismantling it from the cords and cables where it lay nestled so comfortably in my room. Somehow, I thought she might hold it against me (yes, my rig is a “she” named Fiona), and the new dubstep mix I was working on for Lily was really coming together… and I did not want anything to get between Lily and my mix… and my manhood.

  “Where do you want me to set up?” I asked Melody as I dropped the snacks on the small table.

  “How about over here on the couch where we were sitting before?”

  I put my gear down on the loveseat and sat down. The photo was still on the floor from where it had fallen before. Glass still lay in shards, catching the yellowish fluorescent light overhead. “Mel?”

  She looked at me and I saw the skin tighten around her eyes and mouth. She was stressed. She was trying to pretend she was okay with all of this, but clearly she wasn’t. “Maybe we should sweep that up? You got a broom? I can do it.”

  “Oh, yeah. Good idea. I haven’t been in here since… I’ll get the broom. You just get your rig booted up and stuff. Tara says you have a webcam on that thing too?”

  She was out the door, heading toward the kitchen before I could answer, so I just pulled up the webcam utility along with my mixing board software.

  Before long, Melody was sweeping up the mess and Tara and G. had arrived. I nearly did a double take, but made my saving throw, when Tara walked in the room. She was wearing some little teal number with spaghetti straps, and I practically had to peel my eyes from her bosom before either she or G. caught me looking. Holy Shit, she looked hot. Not as hot as Lily, but damn.

  “Okay, I’ve got the board, and the crystal,” she said, breathless, settling down onto the loveseat next to me and gently moving my computer over a little bit to make room for the Spirit Board setup. “Can you set up to record on multiple tracks?”

  “Sure,” I said. “What are you hoping to get from that?”

  “I just think that if we can get layers of sound, we might be able to isolate things better. Instead of, for instance, our voices talking over something–like Matthew’s ghost—and then us trying to scrub it clean to understand what he’s saying.”

  She really did just say Matthew’s ghost, didn’t she? And how much my outlook on life, the universe and everything had changed, that I didn’t cringe when she said it. Or when she pulled the crystal out of her purse and put it on the board. Maybe it wasn’t all new age crap. Seems like at least some of it was very old crap indeed. “Yeah, I can manage that,” I said and pulled a couple of microphones out of my bag. I didn’t do much audio work, but I did like to capture ambient sounds, like train sounds or traffic or nature, for layering effects over my own tracks. Never thought ghost sounds would make it onto that list.

  “Should we ah, light some candles and stuff like we did last time?” Melody asked, standing a little apart from the rest of us.

  Tara looked up at her and smiled. “I don’t think that’s necessary this time. We already know it works. We don’t need mood lighting to make it spooky.”

  “It’s plenty spooky with the regular lights on, in my opinion,” said G.

  I smiled grimly. “I agree. Let’s just get through this as smoothly as possible. Besides, lights off will make it hard to see my keyboard.”

  Melody wasn’t wringing her hands, but looked like she wanted to.

  “You want to come and sit by me?” I nodded toward the empty spot on the loveseat next to me. “You know, like last time?”

  She seemed relieved. “Yeah, thanks. Maybe that will help.”

  “Who knows?” I gave her a crooked grin.

  “Indeed!” said Tara, leaning over and waggling her brows.

  I had to hand it to Rapunzel. She knew how to lighten the mood.

  “So, are we ready?” she asked, surveying the set up. “Mel, are you going to be note taker again?”

  “Uh,”

  “I can do that this time,” said G. taking a seat next to Tara. He had already grabbed the pen and pad from the table with the snacks on it. He turned the page to a fresh, blank sheet and pretended like he was an old granny secretary from the 1950s, ready to take dictation. We all laughed. He was very convincing. Finally, with everyone meeting everyone else’s gaze, I knew we were ready.

  “Okay, I’m clicking ‘record,’” I said.

  Tara leaned in and put her hand on the planchette, and I followed. We looked to Melody, but she hung back. “Uh, maybe… G.?”

  G. shrugged and started to hand the tablet to her so that he would have his hands free, but Tara stopped him.

  “That’s okay for now. Melody, can you just sit back and concentrate on Matthew for us? Sam and I will do the heavy lifting. Let’s see how that goes.” She looked around one more time and then cleared her throat. “Hello, spirits of the ether, we greet you as friends. Together we are Tara, Sam, G., and Melody. Please commune with us.”

  I let my left hand sit on the planchette with Tara while I moved my mouse cursor over my laptop screen, making sure that the window didn’t fall asleep. I watched the equalizer for each audio input from the spare microphones, but there was nothing. I looked around the group and shook my head.

  “Is anybody there?” asked Tara, her voice clear.

  I kept my eyes on the computer screen, and for a long moment I think we all held our collective breath, but still, there was nothing. As I was about to shake my head again, I noticed a tiny little jag on the equalizer graphic that belonged to my omni-directional mike. I took a sharp inhalation and heads all around jerked in my direction. I watched the screen, hoping for another jag, but after a long moment, I shook my head again. Nothing.

  “Is anybody there? Matthew Walker, are you there?”

  There was another tiny jag on my computer screen from the same microphone, and this time, Melody was leaning in over my shoulder. She gasped softly. We waited, and we waited, and there was nothing.

  And then Melody reached out a tentative hand to touch the fingers of her left hand to the planchette, and holy hell broke loose, except she and I were the only ones who could see it.

  The moment her fingers touched the planchette, my entire laptop screen flickered as if it were experiencing some massive denial of service attack, and the equalizer graphics for both microphones jagged all over like crazy. If I had seen something like that on the United States Geological Survey website, I would have hunkered down next to a large piece of furniture and braced for an earthquake.

  “Holy shit,” I breathed.

  Melody’s eyes were glued to the computer screen, and she almost didn’t notice when the planchette started to move.

  But I noticed, and so did Tara.

  “G.! are you getting this?” she hissed.

  “Yeah, yeah, wait, slow down…”

  “I can’t, I mean, it’s not me, us, that’s moving it. It’s...”

  “Matthew,” finished Melody. We all looked at her then, but she was no longer looking at the computer; she was looking across the room, eyes wide.

  I looked, and I saw him, too.

  52. G.

  I was writing as fast as I could, but I couldn’t quite keep up with how fast the planchette was moving. And the room was getting very hot, much hotter than normal. It wasn’t like the AC was out—it was like I was heating up. I wanted to close my eyes to see if I could detect that faint glow I saw before, but I didn’t want to miss any of the letters or w
ords. But when I saw the expression on Melody and Sam’s face, I had to turn to look over my shoulder. What I saw made me burn bright like a freaking torch.

  There was a man there, but he was not alone. And he was struggling to stay where we could see him. Something was reaching for him, trying to pull him back; long inky black tendrils were clutching at him, and before I knew it, I lunged over the couch, a flaming sword of light in my hand, and slashed at the tentacles as hard and fast as I could. There was a sound not unlike a peal of thunder, and as my sword encountered the nearest tentacle, lightning flashed and the air between myself and the man undulated like the surface of a pond in a strong wind. But there was nothing physical to stop or halt the force of my swing, and I went tumbling to the floor in an all-out, head-first dive.

  I skidded to a stop, my head hitting the baseboard of the wall and I heard the girls call out and Sam swear. The world had turned vaguely red, and I realized that I must have hit my head pretty hard for it to be affecting my vision like that.

  Tara squatted down next to me. “Are you okay? G.?”

  I looked up and saw her golden hair cascading over her shoulder with the fluorescent light flaring behind like a halo. “You look like an angel,” I said, and then, “It’s really hot in here.” Everything faded to black.

  53. MELODY

  Shit. Two times in one evening. It was getting almost mundane to see the ghost of my dead brother. And yet I was shivering. Why was I shivering? It was hot in the clubhouse, come to think of it, it had started getting hot the moment we saw Matthew’s ghost. Wasn’t that the opposite of what was supposed to happen? I reached behind me to pull the afghan off of the back of the loveseat and threw it over my shoulders.

  “Are you okay?” Tara was squatting down next to G. “Let me get you some ice for your head.” Tara jogged out of the clubhouse, letting the screen door slam behind her.