Never

by K. D. McEntire

  “After the way you dumped me to go spend time with that Gina-chick for weeks and weeks, if I want to smooch Piotr, I think I'd do so without any guilt,” Wendy reminded him, smoothing a lock of silvery-blond hair off his forehead.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Eddie said, rubbing the back of his neck and obviously embarrassed at being called out on his jealousy. “Gina Biggs…so, so hot. She dumped my ass but good, too.”

  “They usually do,” Wendy replied lightly.

  “Only when they find out how much I care about you,” he said, cupping Wendy's chin and tilting her head back. They locked eyes. “But they never listen when I explain that you don't feel the same way.”

  Wendy laid a cool palm against his cheek, drawing forward to brush her lips in the hollow of his cheekbone and poke him in the chest. “Now's not the time, Eds. We can talk about…whatever thing we have and whatever is going on with Piotr and me later. When we're both back in our bodies. Okay?”

  “Just promise me that you won't do something stupid like let them pull the plug just so you can be with Piotr,” Eddie said, staring hard into Wendy's face. “Or have him tell that doctor to do it with his weird mumbo-jumbo hands. I know you, Wendy. You act tough but you're a romantic at heart. Don't do anything dumb, all right?”

  “Scout's honor,” Wendy promised. “No plug-pulling.”

  “Why don't I believe you?” Eddie asked.

  “I have no idea,” Wendy said. “But I wouldn't lie to you, Eddie. Not about that. Now you, good sir,” she hugged him once more, a quick embrace but warm nonetheless. “You go find a place to hide out and rest. A nice, safe place to hunker down.”

  Eddie pressed a sweet, brief kiss to her forehead. “Be safe, Wendy. I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” Wendy replied as he turned and headed downstairs. She pitched her voice low so he couldn't hear her and wrapped her arms around herself, hugging her elbows close and fighting frightened tears. “More than you'll ever know.”

  Locking the house and leaving was one of the hardest things Wendy had ever done. Their grandmother would have no clue where they were, neither would their dad. None of the neighbors were awake to see them leave. So much had happened but it wasn't even four yet. They piled into the car and sped south, to San Jose.

  The Winchester Mystery House grounds were well lit even in the middle of the night, and as Jon pulled into the lot and parked the car, the soft sounds of traffic lulled them into a sense of momentary peace.

  Wendy was surprised at how much of the Mystery House was rock solid in the Never. Even the fences and bushes looked firm—there would be very little sliding through walls in this place. The ghosts would have to move around like the living did, though how they'd manage to open the doors or windows to get from place to place was beyond her.

  The rest of the city pressed in disconcertingly close to the house and grounds, but facing the house, back to the overcrowded city behind her, Wendy could close her eyes and briefly imagine what it must have been like when this house had been the only thing for miles around, just an estate and an orchard and a crazy old lady waiting for death at the edge of nothing. Wendy tilted her head back, gazing at the shadow of the tall red roof rising four stories above the two stories remaining in the living lands. Here in the Never the colors of the house were brighter than the surroundings, and the grass was verdant and green.

  “So who's this Clyde guy?” Chel asked, rolling down the window as Piotr, Lily, and Elle slipped through the sides of the car and joined Wendy in the parking lot. “Do we know that we can trust him?”

  “Groundskeeper or something. He's a recluse,” Elle explained, gesturing for Jon and Chel to stay in the car. Shrugging, Jon reclined the seat and stretched out, covering his upper body with a hoodie and shielding his eyes from the streetlights with the hood. “He's got no love for Reapers and is impossible to bully, which'll work in our favor if we can convince him to hear us out.”

  “I wonder if he's the reason why Mom wouldn't let me come out here once I saw the Light,” Wendy mused, drifting over to the small tourist information hut built close to the parking lot and poking the plexiglass with a finger. The glass was chilling, and for a moment Wendy worried that her fingers would stick.

  “You have not visited this area since you became the Lightbringer?” Lily asked, surprised. She'd braided her hair back in an intricate bun at the nape of her neck, the glossy strands woven so elegantly that Wendy's eyes strained to follow the weft of the locks. Lily'd dropped her normal, traditional garb and had formed her essence into slim jeans and a loose, long-sleeved blouse similar to the one Chel was wearing. The modern look suited Lily's angular features too well. Wendy wished she'd go back to her suede and leather look.

  “I came out to San Jose,” Wendy explained, poking her corset, wondering how much energy it would take to shift the color to red or possibly silver. It seemed like so much effort, but Elle and Lily shifted form so easily. “I just didn't come here. Mom wouldn't allow it when I was working under her. I didn't think her spirit would wander out this way if she didn't want me coming here when she was, you know, whole.”

  “Knowing what we do now of your mother's actions, it is possible that she and Clyde had made an arrangement,” Lily theorized, joining Wendy at the information hut. She pushed a hand against the wall; it did not give under her pressure.

  “Sounds like Mom,” Wendy agreed, giving up on changing her look. People liked her corsets anyway, especially Piotr and Eddie. Why change what wasn't broken? “So what's the deal? Do we scale a fence and go looking for this Clyde guy?”

  “That won't be necessary,” Piotr murmured, squaring his shoulders and brushing his hands down his shirt. “Here he comes.”

  Clyde turned out to be a lean middle-aged man, dark-haired and dark-eyed, sporting a fantastic mustache and a set of clean, pressed overalls. He strode toward them, hands thrust into the pockets of his overalls, and stopped just on the other side of the hut, eyeing them each in turn. “Riders, huh? What can I do for ya?”

  Lily opened her mouth to reply but Clyde suddenly pushed past her, standing toe to toe with Wendy. He scowled and crossed his arms over his chest, large hands gripping his upper arms. Wendy could see the individual lines creased with dirt on his fingers. His overalls were clean but his hands dirty. Interesting. “A Reaper? Here?! We had a deal!”

  Taken aback, Wendy stammered, “I…I don't—”

  Clyde grabbed Wendy by the front of her corset, yanking her hard. The bones lining the fabric gave him good leverage; he was able to jerk her roughly enough to snap her head back and forth. “When we have a deal, you and yours need to listen, damn it!”

  Wendy, startled, quickly jammed an arm between the two of them as Clyde, surprisingly strong for such a thin man, lifted her almost over his head and shook her like she were a rag doll. “I am getting sick—SICK—of your kind on my property!” Clyde shouted into her face, spittle flying and sliding down Wendy's left cheek.

  “I don't know what—”

  Clyde shook her roughly again and her teeth clicked painfully together.

  “You dare—YOU DARE—come back around here, peddling your papers? I ought to rip your soul to shreds! I ought to take that cord of yours and rip it in two! How's that sound, huh? Sound like something your bosslady—”

  “I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!” Wendy yelled and, twisting, elbowed Clyde right between the eyes. She felt the cartilage of his nose give way and Wendy pressed her advantage, scrabbling her feet up his thighs for purchase and pushing off, shoving him away with such force that Clyde stumbled back and fell, scraping his hands on the pavement as he tried to catch himself. Wendy also fell back but was quick enough to tuck and roll, coming up to her feet with hardly a scratch. The abused bones of her corset jammed into her ribs and Wendy once more wished that she'd taken the time to learn how to shift her shape like the others.

  Clyde, rubbing his nose, glared at her. As Wendy watched he jerked it once and his nose clicked back in
to place.

  “That hurt,” he growled. “What do you want, Reaper?”

  “Be calm!” Piotr snarled from where Elle and now Lily were holding him back. “We did not come to fight with you! The Lightbringer comes in peace!”

  Clyde glared at Piotr; Piotr glared back. For several seconds the air seemed to snap with repressed words and an inexplicable icy chill. Wendy was startled to realize that there was an aura around Clyde very similar to the glow around Jon's hands—a faint glow, green this time, an aura that hovered just above his skin.

  “Wendy?” Clyde asked. He frowned. “Lightbringer?”

  “Hang on,” Wendy said suddenly, interrupting the staring contest. “I'll be right back.” She turned on her heel and rushed toward the car, knocking on Jon's window with one knuckle, glad that the heavily splattered mud only existed in the living lands and not in the Never. The whole car was downright filthy.

  Jon, sleepy and irritated, rolled down the window. “What?” he demanded. “I was mostly out!”

  “Show me your hands,” Wendy ordered. Jon did and then Wendy examined his fingers closely. “Can you call the Light?”

  “You need me to—”

  “Just call the Light, Jon. Make it snappy. Not all of it, we don't want to reap anyone, just enough to do that glowy-thing from earlier.” Shrugging, Jon did so, and Wendy was amazed to see that her brother had a green haze surrounding his body. Jon was concentrating hard so it wasn't as faint as Clyde's glow, but the haze was still noticeable when you knew where to look.

  “Thanks,” she muttered and hurried back to the gathered ghosts. Clyde had calmed down.

  “You're the Lightbringer, huh? I've heard about you, girl. Everyone's heard about you.”

  “Look, I'm really sorry to bother you,” Wendy said, taken aback by this abrupt, direct ghost. “No, I'm not from Elise. I don't even like Elise…my mom didn't either, but I didn't know you existed until tonight, and—”

  “Your mom?” Clyde asked, bored. “Who is that?”

  “Um, her name was Mary,” Wendy said, feeling like a toddler who'd spilled grape Kool-Aid on the parlor rug. Maybe it was the fact that he'd been able to shake her above his head, but Clyde made her feel very small and uncertain of herself. “You've probably never heard of her—”

  “Mary?” Clyde snorted. “Mary?” He broke off, thrusting his fists on his hips and frowning. “Little Mary had a kid? What year is this again? No, wait, never you mind answering that. If you know the year, it ages you. Dates you. Saps the ol’ willpower. I'm having none of that now.”

  “Mum's the word,” Elle drawled. “But we're here for a reason, you know, not to take the tour.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I figured,” Clyde replied, shaking his head and flapping a hand as if to say, It's no matter. “No one ever comes to visit ol’ Clyde without hands open.”

  “We wouldn't have come if it weren't important,” Wendy hurried to assure him.

  Clyde shrugged. “It's the way of the world. My apologies—I've had a long night and you looked like someone I've seen recently. Light's dim, shadows and all. Come inside, we'll sit and have a natter. But leave your blades. Arrows and whatnot, too. No weapons allowed in the Winchester Mansion.”

  “Will the twins be safe?” Wendy asked, gesturing to the muddy car.

  “They've put in cameras all over,” Clyde said, flicking his eyes at the tourist hut and then gesturing to the house. “The kids have to stay in the parking lot or the police will come, but it's safe enough.”

  “Maybe we should talk out here,” Wendy said, eyeing the parking lot, looking for telltale flashes of white. The last Walker attack in her own home had left her edgy and unsure about every corner now.

  “You stay where you like, I'm going inside,” Clyde said dismissively. “Make up your mind, though, I can't take much time to talk. I've got work that needs doin’ and the moonlight's a'wastin’. I can't work in the day anymore, not after they started up the basement tour.” He shook his head. “How they expect a man to keep things runnin’ smoothly when they're traipsin’ all sorts of know-nothings through my coal chute is beyond me. Last train outta the station, leaving now.”

  “Fine,” Wendy sighed. “Lead the way.”

  Wendy expected him to guide them to the carriage door entrance, tracing the path she vaguely remembered the main tour took but instead Clyde led them through the exit toward the gift shop. He stopped at the far door and Wendy prepared herself for the older man to show them some thin spot in the Never to walk through. Instead Clyde reached out and jiggled the door handle.

  It opened.

  “It's more peaceful back here,” he explained, holding the door open as Lily edged through the open doorway with Piotr and Elle at her heels. “We'll go sit a spell in the dining room to chat.”

  “You…you're opening a door in the living world,” Wendy said, pushing against a knickknack table to test the solidity of the area. Her hand went straight through.

  “Yep,” he replied. “And it's not easy work, girlie, so move your tuchus. These doors are touched all day, every day by excited, spooked folks. They're heavy.”

  Wendy slid through the opening and turned, staring amazed as the fire door wheezed closed behind them.

  “Since management changed hands, all the opening and closing is driving those security experts batty,” Clyde said, not bothering to hide his amusement, as a thin red light began flashing in the gift shop overhead. “They've had four electricians out this month. The old guides and guards knew it's nothing, but the new team gets a guy out here at least once a night to check on me, make sure I'm not a thief. I was feeling ornery earlier tonight and set off the alarm three times movin’ about. Those security folk got tired of chasin’ ghosts and ain't coming back before dawn.” He waved a hand at a dark spot on the wall; Wendy noted the camera mounted behind the mostly-wooden display panel. “What can I say? It passes the time.”

  Still chuckling to himself, Clyde led them through the back entrance of the gift shop and into a long, large room, paneled with wood from floor to ceiling and sectioned off with red velvet ropes. “Sit,” he ordered, waving a hand at the ivory chaise against the far wall and the small dining table behind the ropes. “I've got things to check in here. You sit, I'll work, and we'll talk.”

  Wendy and Piotr rested on the chaise while Lily and Elle each chose seats at the table. Piotr's hand snaked out and gripped Wendy's, their fingers twining together in the space between them. Wendy shivered at his touch, the feeling of Piotr's calloused thumb running an idle circle along the sensitive flesh of her inner wrist, sending goose bumps up and down her spine.

  Satisfied that the Riders were settled, Clyde moved to the fireplace and began examining the intricate tile around the edges of the mantle, running his hands expertly over the corners.

  “This place has around forty-seven fireplaces,” he lectured, kneeling down and poking his head into the well of the fireplace examining the firebox. “Years of disuse means only about half of ’em work now but they still need to be kept nice for visitors. The missus would want it that way—she was a stickler for keeping things nice.” Clyde pulled back. “There are good hiding spots around fireplaces,” he said. “’Specially in this house. The missus liked her funny little details.”

  Satisfied with whatever he was looking for, Clyde lovingly patted the panel; it shifted, moving in the living lands under the pressure of his hand in the Never.

  There was something hidden behind it.

  “This is good workmanship,” he said, catching her eye. “Solid. I laid some of these panels myself, though I spent most of my days toward the end working on those easy-step stairs for the missus’ arthritis. She needed ’em and I wanted to make sure she could move around. You do what you can for those you love, those you respect, and if you love ’em enough, you keep on doin’ even after they're gone.” He paused, looking pointedly at Wendy. “You follow me?”

  Nervously, Wendy licked her lips, that called-to-task feeling sitting
heavily in her gut again. “Um, yes?”

  Clyde looked at her hands clasped with Piotr's and sighed. “Maybe you do, maybe you don't. The point of the matter is that I'm no stranger to the Reapers—the good and the bad, yeah? Every family tree has a few rotten twigs and bug-eaten leaves, but there are big ol’ branches that are not welcome here.”

  Wendy opened her mouth to ask if he meant her as well, but Piotr squeezed her hand hard and shook his head minutely. She stopped, waiting.

  “Your momma—Mary, really?—came here with her sister a lot, growing up,” Clyde continued, rubbing his hands against his overalls and leaning carefully against a the corner of the mantelpiece. “They'd sneak in after hours and wander the grounds, scaring off the animals. Good girls, Mary and Tracey. Twelve years apart but still thick as thieves, they were.”

  “You sound like you miss them,” Wendy murmured.

  “I'd be a fool to claim I didn't. It gets lonely out here, only hearin’ from folks when they want something from you.” Clyde scowled and pushed off the wall. “Elise, as I'm sure you've sussed out by now, has been sending girls ’round, making threats. Threats about you, about the Lady Walker. I don't like being meddled with. I don't like people coming into my missus’ parlor making threats one minute and promises the next. Same fluff they're telling all the long-timers: big reward for bringing you in, bigger punishment for harboring you. It don't sit right with me.”

  “Oh,” Wendy said weakly. “I…I didn't know.”

  “Did Elise promise you treasures if you turned Wendy in to her?” Lily asked, hands balling to fists atop the dining table. “Flesh of your own?”

  “Mayhap,” Clyde replied. “But don't fret. You've noticed by now that I can do what most ghosts can't. There's precious little the Reapers can give me that I can't get for myself with some effort and patience.”

  “They try anyway,” Elle said, pitching her voice low and quiet. “They're persistent. They keep coming around, right?”