by Jenna Kernan
He sounded disgruntled.
“I like pretty cups.”
He frowned. “Of course you do.”
Somehow she felt her admission had let him down.
“It is owned by a family of Niyanoka and many of the customers are also of your kind. They are the only Niyanoka I know of.”
“They live in Seattle?”
“There are many more in Scottsdale, some in Boulder, but I do not know where. They favor places where the earth energy is strong. I hear they like Herkimer in New York, though I have never been to those low hills.”
She turned to him, surprised to see his hair drawn neatly back from his face. He wore a blue oxford shirt, khakis and Docksiders without socks. Only his necklace remained unchanged.
“You never take it off?” She motioned to the turquoise.
“No. It is a part of me, my coat when in human form. I wear it to keep it safe, but can change its appearance.” He waved a hand over the pendant, and he now wore a gold chain with a medicine wheel charm.
“I prefer the other.” Michaela stared down at her clothing. She still wore her tattered camisole, worn blue jeans and sealskin boots. “I wish I could do that.”
Sebastian looped an arm over her shoulders. “You have other gifts.”
“You can’t change my clothes, can you?”
“Afraid not.”
Michaela sighed and brushed the dirt from her jeans and fingered the ragged fringe of lace at her hips.
They walked past a warehouse ringed in a fence topped with razor wire and continued ten long blocks, past brick industrial buildings and along sidewalks that glistened from an earlier rain, before seeing another soul. Finally, she saw a group of unsavory characters loitering by the closed garage door of an auto repair shop tagged with graffiti. These men with no destination seemed to claim ownership of this patch of pavement. The largest lifted his head, assessing his prey, then took one step in their direction as the others swept out behind him in a classic attack formation. A battered fedora shaded the leader’s eyes, but the smile was clear, a wicked little slash that said he thought he was in charge.
Sebastian’s smile was broader and caused his opponent to hesitate, the corners of his mouth descending.
“Got a light?”
Michaela tried to step around the guy without making eye contact, but Sebastian halted her with one hand. He extended the other with such force that the man before her shot into the air, as a tearing sound mingled with his scream. The ragged remains of a green T-shirt dangled from Sebastian’s clenched fist. The man hit the sidewalk ten feet back, a row of gashes bleeding on his chest.
His fellows backed away, hands raised.
“Pity,” muttered Sebastian as they abandoned their writhing friend in favor of retreat. He looped his arm through hers and set them in motion.
“You could have killed him,” she whispered.
“If I chose to.” He glanced back. “Were there any ghosts?”
“What?”
“Hanging about them?”
She craned her neck. “I didn’t see any.”
“Then they haven’t killed yet. But they will.”
The neighborhood began to change. A laundromat appeared first and beside it a check-cashing place, now gated and locked. Just beyond, two bars nestled side by side as if trying to keep each other company. Next came a deli, the metal bars now drawn down over the entrance. Someone had tagged the brick surface just beyond with green spray paint.
The next block looked more hopeful. Trees grew from neat squares of dirt cut from the pavement, flanked by a series of shops, all closed. Ahead a well-lit establishment with outdoor tables glowed with flickering oil lamps and strings of white lights like a welcoming port. On each table sat little vases of black-eyed Susans. Potted palms flanked the gap in the low wrought-iron fence encircling the outdoor tables of the eatery. Palm fronds glistened with raindrops as customers sat enclosed in this oasis of civility.
A rail-thin waitress slipped between two tables carrying a small tray holding two steaming cups. She had a tattoo of a sun low in the center of her back and her hot-pink T-shirt was so tight it rode up to her ribs.
Michaela inhaled the inviting scent of brewing coffee. Then she sensed something. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced before, like a little pinprick on her skin.
“What was that?”
Sebastian paused scenting the air. “What?”
Michaela moved toward the café and halted. Twenty paces away a pretty brunette sat at the last table with her back to the other customers. Before her sat a cup of coffee and an untouched biscotti. She read from a dogeared novel, while across from her sat a young man who was entirely transparent. He cradled his chin in his hand, elbow propped on the table as he gazed longingly at the woman.
“Sebastian. I can see right through him,” she whispered.
He looked around. “Who?”
Chapter 21
M ichaela lifted a finger to chest level, keeping her arm tucked close to her body so as not to draw attention. “That man, that ghost-man, sitting right there.”
Sebastian took a step closer, cocking his head and inhaling deeply. She knew he used his most powerful perceptions, his hearing and his sense of smell.
“The cookie has cinnamon in it, the coffee is sweetened with raw sugar and the woman is wearing a scent of musk, but I sense nothing else.”
She wiggled her finger. “But he’s there.”
Sebastian gave her a long look. “A ghost. You can see them now. What is it doing?”
“Just watching the woman.”
“He waits for his mate, then. His choice.”
Michaela glanced back to see the man now staring at her; he rose from his seat. She pressed closer to Sebastian and he ushered her toward the entrance.
A crash of crockery colliding with concrete came from their left. Michaela jumped, turning to find a second waitress staring at them with slack-jawed amazement as her abandoned serving tray spun in a noisy circle at her feet.
Michaela clamped her hands over her tingling ears.
“Sebastian, what is that?”
Sebastian gripped her shoulders and stared at her.
“What?”
“My ears are hot.”
“Perhaps a signal that you are in the presence of another Niyanoka.” He motioned with his chin toward the waitress with the bangs fringed in royal blue.
Michaela recalled Kanka saying something about now being able to recognize Supernaturals.
The waitress stormed forward, speaking to Sebastian. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”
Michaela cowered at the obvious fury in her face. She was positively scarlet and a golden circle of light surrounded her. What the heck was that?
“Let go of her, Skinwalker.”
Sebastian’s hand dropped from Michaela’s shoulders as he faced the woman. “She had no knowledge of what she is until Kanka restored her powers.”
The woman’s mouth dropped open again. She straightened, reassessing Sebastian. The woman reached out for Michaela. “Come on.”
Michaela inched closer to Sebastian.
“Go on,” he coaxed. But his expression remained tight.
“Are you coming?” Michaela whispered.
“He’s not welcome here,” said the waitress, dropping a proprietary arm around Michaela’s shoulders.
Michaela shook her off. “Let go of me.”
The waitress glanced around, then leaned forward and hissed, “But you belong with us.”
Michaela set her jaw and stared at Sebastian. “You promised not to leave me while Nagi is still a threat.”
“Nagi?” The fear in the waitress’s voice was apparent. She dropped her voice and glanced at the gawking customers. She motioned with her head. “Over here.”
They followed her down the street past the greenery and tidy fencing. Then she rounded on them both.
“What has Nagi to do with you?”
Michaela’s
fright had now dissolved, replaced by a scalding dislike for this woman. She drew herself up.
“He attacked me and my ‘people’ did not rescue me.” Michaela pointed at Sebastian. “He did.”
The woman rubbed her chin, dragging her index finger thoughtfully over the metal stud set below her bottom lip.
“She is Ghost Clan,” said Sebastian.
The waitress’s eyes grew round as she stared at Michaela. It seemed forever before she spoke.
“Go down this side street. We’ll meet you out back.” She glared at Sebastian. “Both of you.”
He nodded and led Michaela away.
“I don’t like her.”
“This is where you belong.”
She halted in the alley. “I belong with you. Please, Sebastian.”
“Once you understand. You have no history of your kind, no connection. But once you meet them, you will see, you will—”
“Become a snarky little racist like my new friend? No, I won’t.”
His smile seemed sad and his shoulders drooped in defeat.
“Do you want to be rid of me?” she asked.
He hesitated just long enough for her insides to go cold.
“I want you to be safe.”
“You promised not to leave me.”
“Until you were safe,” he qualified.
“You think little Miss Body Armor can protect me? She’s got more studs than a new house.”
Her ears were tingling again, stronger this time. She clamped a hand over one as she stared up at Sebastian. “There’re more of them.”
Three figures appeared at the end of the alley, silhouetted by the floodlight behind the café. Michaela repressed the urge to run as Sebastian placed a firm hand on her lower back, ushering her forward.
The group gave way as she approached, standing close together in a half circle: a man, a woman and the waitress, each glowing with a soft golden light that surrounded them like a cloud.
The woman shook her head in a restless motion that cast her long braid back over her shoulder. The gesture and her long thick bangs reminded Michaela of a Shetland pony.
“Welcome, traveler. I am Narissa and this is my husband, Karl, and you have met my daughter, Michelle.”
“Mickey,” chirped the girl.
Narissa’s face tightened at her daughter’s interjection. “We understand you just discovered your gifts. A Seer of Souls. We feared this clan was gone.” She turned to Sebastian. “Thank you for bringing her. We will ensure her care. You may go.”
They dismissed him like a servant.
Michaela glowered. The woman’s benevolent smile ticked Michaela off. “Thank you, but he’s staying.”
“You do not yet understand our ways.”
“Oh, I get the gist.”
Karl cleared his throat and spoke in a slow, easy drawl that surprised her. “Then you’ll see, I’m sure, that we cannot have him here. It’s not done and—” he faced Sebastian with a condescending smile “—and while we are appreciative, if not surprised, at the bear’s forbearance, it doesn’t change things.”
Michaela found the man’s Southern honey just as irritating as his wife’s condescending air. So Michaela turned to Sebastian. “Why am I here, exactly?”
“To learn to use your skills.”
She faced her circle. “Which one of you knows how to train a Seer of Souls?”
No one spoke.
“Your skills are…?”
“My husband can read the minds of children. He works with child-protective services. Michelle and I—”
“Mickey,” interjected Michelle.
She cast her a look of disapproval, then settled back into her smug expression. “My daughter and I can walk in the dreams of others.”
Michaela thought that sounded creepy. What did they do in another person’s dreams? She recalled Nagi using the same approach with her and her apprehension grew.
“And you will train me to use my power?”
“We will teach you our ways and introduce you to our community, connect you with those who can shelter you from your enemies.”
Michaela hesitated. Her heart told her to go with Sebastian. But she wondered if these people could keep her safe from Nagi?
“I’m sorry if my daughter insulted your…companion,” drawled Karl. “It is unusual for us to have direct contact with his kind.”
“Can you stop Nagi?” asked Michaela.
Narissa looked taken aback. “No one can stop him, but we can discover what he wants.”
“He wants me dead.”
“Unlikely,” said Karl. “It is against natural law for Nagi to come to this plane, except to collect the evil ones who refuse to walk the Way of Souls. He does not pursue the living.”
“He attacked me.”
Karl held a skeptical expression but extended his hand to her. “We will hold a council to investigate this. In the meantime, you stay with my family.”
Narissa motioned toward the golden light flooding from the kitchen door. “Come inside, dear.”
Michaela did not move. “And my friend?”
Her voice turned frosty. “He may not enter here.”
Michaela lifted her hands in surrender. “Okay. Thanks for the offer. I’ll pass. Come on, Sebastian.” She turned to go.
“Wait,” said Karl. “You cannot stay with him.”
Michaela did not give him a second glance. She heard Sebastian follow. As she reached the street, he caught up with her.
“You don’t know what you are doing,” he said.
“Well, I know what I’m not doing—” she thumbed over her shoulder “—staying with them.”
He blinked at her. “But they are your people.”
“That’s my choice, isn’t it?”
Sebastian sighed. “No, little rabbit. You are one of them, like it or not.”
“Well, I don’t like it and I won’t stay here.” She pressed her hands on her hips, halting to scowl at him.
He took in her expression and matched it with his own grim stare. At last the corner of his mouth quirked.
“It’s a mistake.”
“So what?”
“I’m not sure, but all actions have consequences. You just bit the hand, you know?”
Michaela flapped her arms in frustration. “Where to now? You want to hail a cab or a tornado?”
“We cannot sleep here because I do not have my plastic and I cannot get funds until tomorrow.”
“You have a bank account?”
Sebastian nodded and lifted his brow at her look of utter astonishment. “And a bank. I used to keep my money in gold, but my friend Nicholas is right, metal is heavy and difficult to exchange. Now I have portfolios and real estate. I also have a cattle farm in Alberta, though I much prefer moose and mountain sheep to beef.”
Michaela’s jaw dropped. “Well, I have some money, but it’s back at my cabin.”
“We’ll go there. It is a place between our worlds.”
He led her behind a brick apartment house, where he boosted her over a low fence. They walked in silence down to the docks.
Michaela’s eyes widened as she saw a shadow moving along the marina. It pulsed with a red aura.
“There’s another,” she whispered, pointing. “I can feel its rage.” She closed her eyes and saw a man striking him on the head with a full bottle of champagne and then dumping him into the bay. She opened her eyes to see the pulsing red shadow hovering out over the water on its way to a houseboat, all aglow on the bay. “He was murdered by the man on that boat.”
“Your powers tell you much.” Sebastian glanced around. “This looks like a quiet place.”
He lifted his arms and called the whirlwind. Michaela gripped him around the middle as they rose. The night was black and moonless, and she could not see the Thunderbirds that swooped in a circle around them. It was a short trip from Seattle to her mother’s cabin.
No, not her mother’s—her aunt’s. Michaela found it hard to interna
lize this, but she believed Sebastian and Kanka.
Her feet touched down and the winds dispersed. She recognized the slanted birdfeeder first and then the cabin behind it, a mere dark shadow against the trees.
It seemed she had been away for a lifetime.
As she approached the porch, she saw someone rise from the chair. It was her aunt Maggie. But not her aunt.
She was silvery and insubstantial as a spider’s web.
“A ghost,” she breathed.
“Another one?” said Sebastian, glancing around the clearing.
Michaela pointed to the porch.
“She wants to tell me something, has been trying to tell me something.”
Michaela mounted the step, feeling her aunt’s love like a warm breeze.
Should have told you about your mom. Mother gave me names of people. Promise to bring you when turned twenty-two. Should have told you. Only wanted you safe.
“I know you did.”
Lives in Montana. Cousin of your father. Look behind the volume on medicinal herbs.
“Yes. I’ll find it.”
Sebastian shifted uncomfortably beside her, staring in the wrong direction.
Father trying to defend you. Mother afraid. Never told me all of it. I only understood on my death. So sorry.
“Don’t be. You kept me safe all these years.”
Danger stalks you. I’ll stay.
“Thank you.”
Loved you like my own.
She vanished. Michaela began to cry. Sebastian cradled her in his arms.
“She’s staying to watch over me.”
“Who?”
“My m-mother, aunt. She’s gone now.”
He nodded, still looking wary. Michaela drew back and opened the door, which she kept unlocked, flicked on the light and headed straight to the bookshelf, removing one volume. Behind it, she found a little treasure box full of jewelry and a yellowing envelope.
Inside was a slip of paper in an unfamiliar hand. It read: Sally Firehorse, P.O. Box 135, Billings, MT.
Sebastian glanced over her shoulder.
“She’s a contact my mother left me. A cousin of my father.”
“Your father?”
She nodded.
“A Niyanoka, then.”
“A Seer?” Michaela could not keep the hope from her voice.