Fragile Spirits

by Mary Lindsey

  “Yes, I knew that she used to be Rose. She wasn’t even a Speaker in this lifetime when your aunt died. I didn’t know it was relevant.”

  “Everything is relevant.” She took a deep breath. “I would have handled Smith much differently had I known. You should have told me. I trusted you, Paul.” She shook her head. She looked over at the doorway to where Charles stood. I had no idea how long he had been there. “I trusted all of you.”

  Charles held out his arms, offering a hug, and she shook her head. “No. Not again. I’m not falling for the IC’s lies and promises again. We’re done here,” she said. “I need a ride home.”

  I took a step forward. “Not from you, Paul,” she said, holding her palm up.

  My insides churned as she turned her eyes to Maddi. “You’re the only one here who hasn’t lied to me. Can you take me home, please?”

  Maddi’s eyes darted from one person to the next, ending up on Charles, who nodded. “Um. Sure.”

  Vivienne stomped out of the room, not looking at any of us. Her emotions were as stormy as her expression.

  “Come back when you’re done, Maddi,” Race said. “We really want to hear all about Venice.”

  “You do?”

  He smiled. “Of course we do.”

  “Yeah, we missed you,” Lenzi said, wrapped in Alden’s arms.

  Cinda smiled. “I’d love to hear some dirt on Race.”

  Maddi laughed. “I’m gonna like this girl.” She winked at Cinda. “I could make your ears catch fire with stories about him. See y’all soon.”

  Race caught my arm as I shot for the door. “No, buddy. Let her go. She’s way too pissed to listen to you, and trust me, I know all about pissed females.” He loosened his grip but didn’t let go. “You felt her emotions just like I did. She feels betrayed and hurt, which is different from just being mad.”

  “I know Smith and Vivienne have some kind of history, but what does it have to do with me?” Lenzi asked.

  I slumped down onto the leather ottoman. “Smith possessed a truck driver and ran her aunt down because he couldn’t find you and wanted to get the IC’s attention so you’d surface. It happened last year, I think.”

  “Oh.” Lenzi turned to Alden. “I bet that was Phillip’s Protector.”

  “Who is Phillip?” Alden asked.

  “He’s the guy we met on the sea wall in Galveston last month.”

  “That’s right! He said he had a desk job for the rest of the cycle because his Protector was run down by Smith.”

  “Poor Vivienne,” Lenzi said.

  Then they all seemed to look at me at once. I knew what they were thinking before they said or felt it. I slammed up my emotional block before I had to feel it as well. Pity. They all felt sorry for me because I was paired with Vivienne.

  I had planned to go to my room for a while, but Charles caught me on my way out of the media room. “May I have a word with you, Paul?”

  “Sure.” I didn’t have a choice. He was my boss and my benefactor. Race was right; I should be careful. Without the IC, I’d have nothing. I followed him into his office and sat across from his desk. Instead of sitting at his desk, he chose the chair next to me.

  “How are you holding up?” he asked, leaning back and crossing his legs.

  “I’m fine, sir.” I stared at the glass paperweight on his desk. Tiny bubbles inside the heavy glass had been frozen midflight to the top when the glass had cooled and hardened.

  He steepled his fingers in front of his chest. “You wouldn’t tell me if you weren’t fine, would you?”

  “No.”

  He picked up a piece of paper from his desk and folded it in half. “You are not fine, Paul.”

  I said nothing, but stared at the bubbles that were stuck halfway through their journey. Just like me.

  In my peripheral vision, I could see his fingers working with the paper. He’d done this as long as I’d known him. Lenzi did it in class sometimes too. He made another fold, but said nothing. I shifted to lean back, careful not to touch the side with the stitches. He turned the paper over and made two more folds. “The first time I saw you, you were sitting on the sidewalk talking to a bird.” He glanced over at me, but I said nothing. I had no recollection of the event. “It was a tiny bird of some kind, and you sat very still and offered it a bit of a sandwich you had found somewhere. I was impressed with your patience and stillness. Most small children fidget, but not you.”

  I lifted my shoulder slightly to relieve the ache. The paper in his lap looked like a lopsided triangle with a tail now. He turned it over and kept working.

  “After a very long time, the bird eventually felt comfortable enough to come closer. Finally, the bird trusted you enough to hop onto your arm and eat out of your hand.”

  Through the window behind the desk, I could see that the sky had grown dark and stars twinkled between clouds. When I glanced back at his lap, the paper had been transformed into a bird. I raised my eyes to meet his for the first time since entering the room, and he smiled.

  “It was amazing to watch a half-starved boy sit still for hours on end to gain the trust of a tiny, frightened animal so that he could share some food he desperately needed himself.” He held the paper bird out to me, and I took it, balancing it in my palm.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  He shifted to face me. “I want you to know that you stood out to me long before I knew about your talents. You are not just another Protector I have brought into the ranks of the Intercessor Council.”

  A wave of emotion that felt like warm water flooding through me took my breath away. He had lowered his guard. This was what he was feeling.

  He leaned a little closer. “Were I lucky enough to have a son, I would want him to be like you. I am certain that I would have intervened on your behalf, regardless of whether you had the gift and even if you had not come over to talk to me that day—but I’m glad you did.”

  “So am I.” Tears pricked behind my eyes. I never cried. Never. Not even as a child.

  He stood and walked behind the desk to stare out the window. “Vivienne is like that bird. The slightest disruption causes her to fly, but she’ll come back because she wants what you offer. She wants friendship and trust. You just need to be still and patient.” He walked to the door but paused in the doorway. “I’m proud of you.” His emotions stopped instantly as he blocked them, and I could breathe again.

  EIGHTEEN

  After changing into some jeans, I drove to Vivienne’s house. I knew she wasn’t home before I pulled up, but I needed to stop here first before I sought her out. Her grandmother opened the door before I knocked—an unnerving habit.

  “She’s not here,” the tiny woman said.

  “I know.”

  She cocked her head. “Then why are you here?”

  “To speak with you.”

  Her face pinched up. “I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

  She started to close the door, but I stopped it with my palm. “But I have something to say to you.”

  After a stare-down with her one good eye, she sighed. “Come on in, then. I’m not going to be gabbing with you through an open door, letting every bug in the county fly in.” She gestured to a red velvet chair. “Sit.”

  I did.

  “What do you want?” she asked, sitting on a matching chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “I don’t want anything.” That wasn’t entirely true. I wanted a lot of things—too many things. “I’m here to give you something.” The black cat jumped up in my lap and rubbed against my chest.

  “Well, what is it?” She sounded disinterested, but her body language gave her away. She uncrossed her arms and leaned forward.

  “I have information about Vivienne’s father.”

  She sat back and gave a disgusted snort.

  “H
e’s dead.”

  She stilled.

  “He was killed the day before the wedding. The IC covered it up. They should have told your daughter, Mrs. Thibideaux. He didn’t abandon your daughter and Vivienne.”

  The cat startled and jumped off my lap when she shot to her feet. She walked out of the room, leaving me baffled. As I stood to search for her, she returned with two glasses of iced tea and handed me one.

  “Call me Tibby.” She sat back down, and so did I. “She always said he’d never desert her. She knew something had happened or he’d have come back. She believed it until the day she died.”

  I took a sip of tea. It was so sweet, I was amazed it was liquid rather than granulated. The cat jumped back up in my lap, giving me an excuse to put the glass on the table next to me rather than try to drink it. I placed it carefully on a coaster near a deck of cards. The cat purred and settled down in my lap.

  “That creature doesn’t like anyone but Vivienne. Not even me,” she said. “You must have a good spirit.”

  The cat’s purr rumbled against my legs. “I’d like to think so.”

  “Vivienne has a good spirit too.”

  I rubbed the cat’s head. “I know.”

  She put her empty glass next to my full one and picked up the deck of cards. “These tarot cards belonged to my mother. They’re very powerful. Do you want me to read for you?”

  “No, thank you.”

  She patted the deck in her hand. “You don’t believe.”

  “No.”

  She smiled and leaned back. “But you believe in Vivienne.” She placed the deck back on the table. “She’s in the ward right now.”

  “Why?” I placed the cat on the floor and stood.

  “I have no idea. She goes almost every night. I don’t like her in that part of town by herself.” She pointed at my glass. “Are you done?”

  I nodded, then looked at the door. “Thank you, Tibby. I’m gonna . . .”

  She picked up my glass, took a big sip, then held it up as if to toast and grinned. “Yeah, you go get her, tiger.”

  Once in my car, I closed my eyes and felt for Vivienne’s soul. It took a while, but I finally pinpointed it. Nausea churned my stomach and pinpricks traveled over my skin as I drove down the familiar street, past the park, and pulled up in front of the house where Vivienne’s soul pulsed feelings of happiness.

  Happiness? My immediate thought was that she had scored drugs of some kind, but I knew that wasn’t right. She had never been high since I met her. Why was she here? I closed my eyes and beat back the long-abandoned feelings associated with this place. I was here for one reason only—to protect Vivienne. Past was past.

  Going up to the door would be the wrong strategy. My best bet would be to wait it out and talk to her after she left. I’d know if she got into trouble because I’d feel her soul. I drove down the street several houses and turned around so that I wasn’t parked right in front. I wanted to see who came out with her, so staying out of direct view seemed wise.

  My phone rang. “Hey, Race.”

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  A woman with a little girl left the house and walked across the street to go into another house. “I’m waiting to talk to Vivienne.”

  “Bad idea, Junior. Trust me. It’s too soon. She was really upset.”

  I didn’t respond. I turned the radio off and stretched my sore shoulder.

  “If she hasn’t seen you yet, you should come back to the house. You need to be patient.”

  Patient. That was the same word Charles had used. Vivienne stepped out onto the doorstep of the dilapidated house, followed by a dark-haired woman.

  “I’ve gotta go.” I unbuckled and ended the call even though he was talking.

  As I got out of my car, she gave the woman a hug, then descended the stairs and headed down the sidewalk in the direction of my car. Surely she hadn’t planned to walk all the way home from here. She wore tight black jeans and a shirt that was painted to look like blood was running from a wound at the collar. As she got closer, I realized it was a souvenir T-shirt from a production of Macbeth. What a fitting combination for her—shocking and smart. She looked over her shoulder and told a Hindered to leave her alone. Then she gasped and stopped several yards away when she spotted me. “What are you doing here, Paul?”

  “I assume that’s rhetorical.”

  She rolled her eyes and took off again, passing me on the sidewalk. I followed. “Let me drive you home, please.”

  She didn’t slow her pace. “No way.”

  “This is a dangerous part of town at night.”

  She spun to face me. “I’m surrounded by pushy dead guys who won’t shut up. Live people are not a big concern. . . . and at least the ghosts don’t lie.”

  “I didn’t lie.”

  “If I had known Smith’s primary target was in the room, I would have used that. I could have resolved him. Instead, he got away.”

  A sidewalk at night in this neighborhood was not the place to have this conversation. “I’m just offering you a ride home. I won’t say a word to you, I promise.”

  She sighed and put her hands on her hips. “It is a long walk.” She adjusted the bag on her shoulder. “And I’m pissed off, not stupid.” She looked behind her. “Take a hike, ghoul. I’m not helping anyone but myself tonight.” Then she turned her attention back to me. “I’ll take you up on your offer.”

  I unlocked and opened her door, but she didn’t get in. “You were spying on me,” she said.

  “No. I was protecting you.”

  “That’s crap, and you know it.” She got in the car and crossed her arms over her chest. I closed her door and got in on the driver’s side. She glared at me. “You were spying like a creepy stalker.”

  I started the car. This girl was nothing like a frightened bird. More like a bird of prey. “I don’t have to spy. I can tell where you are at any given time, and I can feel your reactions to being there.”

  “And just what do you think I was doing?”

  “You know, that’s a really good question, Vivienne. What were you doing?”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “It’s totally my business, because it puts you in jeopardy. It’s my duty to protect you.”

  She stuck out her chin and stared straight ahead.

  Clearly, we weren’t going anywhere until we got this solved. I couldn’t drive and have this conversation. I turned off the car. “I need to know why you’re in a heavy crime area at night on a regular basis.”

  “A resolution.”

  “What? On your own? That’s forbidden. You read the manual.”

  She waved a hand. “I know, I know. But I hadn’t read it when the ghost came to me. I hadn’t even met you yet. We were looking at the house to see if it would work for Grandma and then this dead woman asked me to do it just once, so I did it to make her go away. And she did. Well, I liked it so much, I just kept going back.”

  Dread trickled down my spine like tiny needles. Surely she wasn’t messed up in drugs. I’d never heard of a Hindered requesting it of a Speaker. Ever. And she wasn’t high at all. I’d feel it if she were.

  She turned in her seat and looked at me. “You have a really weird look on your face.”

  “What did you just keep going back to do?”

  “Oh, my God!’ Her anger flared. I’d offended her. “What do you think I’m doing?”

  Based on her transmissions, she knew exactly what I thought, and she didn’t like it. “Honestly, I have no idea. You sneak out at night. You worry your grandma. You worry me. You even had to leave me at the hospital to do it. It looks like you’re doing something shady, Vivienne.”

  “Shady?” She laughed, but anger still pulsed from her. “First of all, that’s the lamest word ever. Second, you’re way off base.”


  “Then tell me what you were doing.”

  “God. Working with you is going to be like working with a probation officer or something.” She grabbed her bag from the floor. “You wanna go through my stuff? See if I’ve got any stash?”

  Her emotions were almost out of control. She was furious. I remained very still and waited for her to calm. “No, I insist.” She pulled out a children’s picture book with a puppy on the front. “Here.” She placed it in my lap. “It’s as addictive as crack.” She pulled out several more. “And these. Oh, man. Be careful of these. One read, and you’re hooked for life.” She slammed the books back into the bag and shoved it onto the floor.

  I ran my fingers over the book in my lap, then handed it to her. She yanked it away and pushed it into the bag with the others. I tried to soften my voice as if she were the bird Charles mentioned. “Are you babysitting?”

  Her anger subsided a bit, but was now tinged with what felt like embarrassment. “No. I’m tutoring. I’m teaching little kids to read because their school sucks, and their parents were never taught and don’t speak English, and if they never learn to read, they’ll never get out of there. And you’re going to tell me not to do it because it’s in a scary part of town.”

  “It is a scary part of town.” But I would never tell her not to do it. I felt horrible that I had even considered she was doing something . . . shady.

  I turned on the car and looked over at her. She was furious. Perhaps because she resented my interference. Or my discovering she broke the IC rules. Or maybe she was so caught up in maintaining her uncaring, badass image she didn’t want people to know she was a tender person donating her time to help little kids. I stared at her a moment longer. With the minimal light coming in through the windshield, she looked almost unearthly with her unnaturally black hair and pale skin.

  “Now that you’ve stalked me and spied on me, are you going to drive me home, or should I go ahead with plan A and walk?”

  I put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. “I wasn’t spying. I was worried about you being here.”