Spectral

by Duffy, Shannon

  I thanked the sales lady for her help, inhaled a deep breath, and stepped back out into the Piazza. A quick glance showed no sign of Pirate Man and I left the Piazza, heading down a narrow street that I hoped would lead me to my parents. Colorful houses lined the path with people going in and out of shops, laughing and talking in festive spirits.

  A store shop’s open sign flickered on and off in the distance and I followed its path down a long and winding street. A couple of guys about my age walked by, eyeing me up and down with a whistle. I tugged on the neckline of my dress with a groan.

  The closer I got to my parents’ house, the more my heart raced. I kept glancing over my shoulder, clutching my bag. My skin prickled in a wave of goose bumps. I didn’t know if there would be people waiting for me outside my parents’ house, trying to ambush me, and I honestly didn’t know if my parents would even want me.

  Roman’s words replayed in my head. About six months ago, your real parents stopped looking for you and went back to Italy. A fist seemed to reach into my stomach, grip me, and twist, his words stinging just as sharply as the first time I’d heard them.

  Why would they stop looking for me?

  It looked like I was about to find out. I crossed the intersection and peered down the street that was supposed to be my parents’. All the similar looking houses sat in a tight row down the street. I squinted, trying to make out the numbers from where I stood. I couldn’t chance walking straight up to my parents’ house—no matter how much I wanted to get off the streets. I needed to watch the houses and make sure nobody was hiding in the corners to nab me. Across and down the street, I noticed a small café and darted to it.

  A tall brunette waved from the back, motioning she’d be right with me. I sat down; hands trembling as I carefully surveyed the area. I read the number on the house directly across the street and calculated that my parents’ house would be the eleventh or twelfth down from me. My gaze followed the row, counting the houses as I went. The eleventh was a vibrant yellow color, the twelfth a terracotta orange.

  The waitress made her way over and I ordered a Coke, then turned to angle my chair to face my parents’ house, watching and waiting and replaying the image of my mother in my head. I held my breath, expecting her to walk out the front door of one of the houses at any moment.

  As I waited, shadows created by the people passing by seemed to come to life, creating malicious shapes, and the masks that once looked so beautiful and mysterious, now appeared menacing. I pictured Dmitri shooting me with his electrical power, or worse, Paolo nailing me with his death grip. I imagined the natural sounds of chatter and laughter around me turning into screams, crackling force fields, and the deafening horn of a looming train.

  Sweat beaded across my lip and I lifted the bottom of my mask, tossing my Coke back. I emptied the glass, then placed the cool glass against my neck. I didn’t know if it was the stress of the moment or if I was coming down with something. An eerie feeling washed over me and it felt like flames licked up my body.

  A hand cupped my shoulder and I jumped instinctively, knocking it away with a swat of my hand. The waitress’s head jerked back in surprise, and she held her hands up defensively. “Mi scusi, Signorina. Un’altra coca?” She pointed to my empty glass.

  I shook my head, and gave her a tight-lipped smile. When I looked back toward my parents’ house, I saw Massimo dart out from a side street and dash in-between the yellow and orange houses.

  Snap! Jumping up, I left the money for my drink, picked up my backpack, lifted the hem of my dress, and dashed off.

  It was definitely Massimo. I’d recognize him anywhere. And if he were around, I could only assume that Paolo was close by. My parents’ house may have well been in another country considering even as close as I was, I couldn’t get there.

  My mind reeled. I didn’t know where to go or what to do. Tomorrow was my birthday. Roman said I’d die if I didn’t go through the quickening before my birthday ended. Not only that, but if I didn’t make it, there was probably no hope for him, either.

  The sun would soon be setting on San Marco, so I finally decided to hide out behind the turquoise house across the street. An ambient glow shone out from the drapes of the window of the house which meant the owners were probably home, maybe watching TV. I hoped they wouldn’t find me and rat me out. But if they did, I’d just say I was a lost tourist and run.

  I sidestepped a cute little terrier busily gnawing away on a bone, wondering if the people inside knew my parents, and suddenly an idea came to me. Creeping around back of the house and up their backstairs, I quietly knocked on their door, trying not to draw attention to myself. I could show the owners the address on the map and ask to use their phone book to look up my parents’ number. My heart thumped loudly with excitement. I could call them, and ask them to come and get me.

  A plump old lady ambled to the door dressed in black from head to toe as though she were going to a funeral. I lifted my mask and smiled. “Ciao, Senora,” I said in the best Italian I could muster. “Can you help me?”

  The old lady smiled, tilted her head to the side, and raised her hands in the air. “No speaka English.”

  Just my luck. I pulled out the map of my parents’ house and pointed to the address.

  The woman’s lips grew tight. She pointed down the street toward my parents’ house with a jab of her pointer finger, backed away, and started to close the door.

  “No, wait!” I said, wedging my foot in-between the door. “The telephone, please!” I held my thumb and pointer finger sideways up to my ear. “Please, Senora.” I placed my palms together in front of my face, pleading.

  “No,” the woman said firmly with a scowl, and then banged the door against my foot.

  Yelping in pain, I backed away and the door slammed shut. The sound of the lock clicking reverberated against my ears. I didn’t know what her problem was, but she obviously had some kind of issue with my parents. Fear clenched my stomach. What could be so bad about them that a little old Italian lady wouldn’t like them?

  I stumbled backward down the steps and then returned to the long narrow walkway between the houses. With a sigh, I took a couple of shaky steps back toward the street intent on getting back to the Piazza, but stopped instead, and leaned against the rough stucco of the house, needing to come up with a plan.

  I had to find a payphone with a telephone book. The only problem was that payphones aren’t the easiest thing to find. They weren’t really needed anymore. Pretty much everybody had cell phones. Except me of course. I’d lost mine in all the craziness at Taylor’s house that night.

  I searched for anyone who could be following me. Waves of heat rushed through me, in-between racking shivers. My nerves were taking over. Either that or I was really sick. The warm wind whistling through the streets carried with it cheers and laughter from people still in carnival party mode. Candy wrappers and popcorn bags fluttered along the ground, and the streetlights that were staggered along the narrow stretch of road, glowed to life.

  Sweat pooled at the base of my neck and slid down my back as I moved in between the houses. The colored homes became blurry but I stumbled on. I had to make it. And then in the distance, across the street, I saw Massimo. I shuddered involuntarily, caught between two houses. The moment I saw his face, it felt like caffeine had been injected directly into my veins.

  Poised, and with his arms crossed, he faced me. In my confusion, I’d forgotten to lower my mask when I left the old lady’s house. And now he looked directly at me from across the street. He walked toward me, and then outstretched his arms wide, fingers bent in ridged angles. Smoke emitted from his body like a great fog drifting across a lake early in the morning. It seeped from his skin and multiplied as it went.

  Headed right at me.

  I knew what would happen if the smoke reached me. I’d heard the screams of Dominique and Henri from their car, and I’d seen the aftermath he’d left behind. The whole car along with them had vanished. It was as th
ough they’d never even existed.

  Securing my backpack around my shoulders, I palmed my hands damp with sweat down the sides of my dress, and backed away toward the old lady’s backyard again. Massimo continued walking toward me at a steady pace. He didn’t have to run. The fog-like smoke snaked low across the grass, moving faster toward me until it reached the cute little terrier. The dog yelped and then vanished.

  I shrieked, the horror of it making me more alert than ever. It was deathly hot and I pressed my damp hair back from my face, head spinning. The smoke continued to seep toward me. My leaden legs stood paralyzed like the day I was in the pool with Jayden. Useless.

  The smoke slithered dangerously close, moving in like razor sharp needles ready to pierce my skin.

  I thought of Roman and of him screaming in pain on the rooftop back in Russia. I wished I’d told him I loved him then—wished I had the chance to tell him right then, too—before the smoke took me and I ceased to exist.

  I looked to the sky. The light from the sun setting shone down in iridescent rays, as if filled with hope. In my haze, I reached my hand up as though I could grasp it, wishing it could lift me into its radiant beams.

  The next thing I knew, a breeze lifted through my dress and my feet dangled into nothingness. Looking below, I watched as the fog slinked over the grass where I had just stood. But now, as I floated—suspended in mid-air—I was only a witness to it.

  I gasped. I’m levitating! But how?

  Dad had said I wouldn’t get his power until after my quickening. But then again, I’d also gotten Roman’s power of creating the shell early, although totally weaker and not without side effects.

  I had to think fast before Massimo looked through the fog and spotted me. Who knew if he could blow it upward toward me or something. Since somehow I had gained the whole levitation endowment, I wondered if maybe I had picked up other powers, too.

  I wracked my throbbing brain for what other powers were used against me. I thought of trying to summon Paolo’s death grip endowment and knock the smoky sucker out for good, but I couldn’t chance leaving a dead body in the old bat’s backyard. She’d seen me, and no doubt would turn me in.

  And then I thought of Vladimir. He created visuals that felt completely, insanely real!

  My strength was fading fast and I began drifting back downward, heading into the exterminating fog. Massimo’s heavy footsteps grew closer. I had to get it together before I plummeted to the ground or he noticed me floating in mid-air. Gritting my teeth, I thought of the sunset and reached out to it again until I rose a few feet higher. I scrounged up the courage from deep inside me, and then imagined a vision of Massimo’s face in my mind.

  First, my thoughts drifted to the raspberry birthmark below his left eye and then lifted to his dark, razor eyes. Eyes closed, I zoned in closer until I could hear his heartbeat resonating—and then it was as though it pulsed inside of me. My head throbbed in rhythm with it, but I pushed through, telling myself I was strong and that I could do it. I couldn’t let Roman down. He’d saved me, and I needed to return the favor. Not to mention I had a little brother I wanted to get back to. I clenched my hands at my sides.

  I imagined the sky without me floating in it; the ground below as it was before I ever stood on it; and the turquoise stucco house before I’d walked up to it. In my mind, I didn’t exist in that space. I made myself believe it, and then pushing outward with my thoughts, I thrust the image toward the vision in my head of Massimo’s face. My body trembled violently and sweat slicked all over me, but I held fast, straining to keep floating and pushing my thoughts outward toward Massimo. I opened my eyes to see him standing directly below me, the corners of his lips turned up into a smirk; a sick satisfaction spreading across his face like a flame on a match.

  The fog surrounded his feet, and then uplifting his face to the sky, he held out his arms, drew in a deep breath, and the fog immediately sucked back into his skin like a vacuum. Fast and furious.

  The gratification of my new and completely sick power was overshadowed by my urge to throw up. I didn’t know how much longer I could hold up. Thankfully, Massimo sauntered off, the canary yellow shirt a blur of moving color. I drifted onto the ground, the earth lurching into a nauseating spin. With my limbs limp like wet spaghetti, I folded into a ball. My head pulsated like a ticking time bomb, until I thought it would explode.

  I lifted my hand to wipe away wetness trickling from my nose and noticed blood smeared across my hand. My head lolled across the ground, and the sound of ringing in my ears like a hundred little girls screaming made my eyes roll back into my head. My insides churned, and I knew then it was more than just fear taking over. I was definitely sick. Very sick.

  My breathing became more labored with even the slightest movement I made. I remembered my parents’ words: If she becomes aware too soon, things will happen. They so weren’t kidding. Roman had also told me I shouldn’t snoop around. All of the warnings I’d heard, I’d ignored and now it seemed like I was paying the price.

  I’d already been sick before Massimo showed up, and after pulling out all the stops to trick him, using two powers at once, I was completely depleted. I. Have. To. Move.

  I crawled at a snail’s pace, gasping for air and dragging my backpack across the ground beside me. Sweat curved tracks down the sides of my face. A large doghouse sat in the backyard of the neighboring house and all I could think about was hiding inside of it until I could heal. I hoped I wasn’t past the point of no return. I just need to rest.

  The closer I got to the doghouse, the blurrier my vision became. The doghouse seemed to multiply until I saw two of them. Then three. Then four.

  “Jewel!” I heard a man’s voice call behind me. It was a voice I didn’t recognize. I twisted around and tried standing to fight whoever it could be, knowing it would be impossible, but refusing to give up.

  This was the new me. The me that didn’t freeze like a chicken shit. The me that stood up to others and fought to protect myself and the ones I loved. But even though my heart was in it, my body defied me and I fell flat on my back, groaning.

  I squinted at the figure towering over me. “C’mon, you bastard!” I swung my arms through the air, still not willing to go down without a fight.

  A man with dark hair and light blue eyes stood staring down at me. His large, golden-looped earring swayed lightly in the breeze.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  He bent down and picked me up into his arms just as I snatched my backpack off the ground. I thrashed as hard as I could, nailing him in the jaw with a weakened blow of my fist.

  “It’s okay, relax,” the man said, shifting his head to avoid more punches. “I’m your uncle.” He shook his head, jostling the mask that now sat at the top of his head, and let it drop backward onto the ground. “Your real one. Your Uncle Aldo.” He smiled.

  Pirate Man’s my uncle?

  I stopped moving and looked at him, eyes wide, then narrowed in suspicion.

  “What’s my mother’s name?” I asked.

  “Angelina.”

  “And my father?”

  “Juliano,” he answered without missing a beat.

  He skirted through the shadows and across the street with me bouncing in his arms. “I don’t want to scare you,” he said breathlessly, “and I understand you aren’t sure if you can believe me, sweet girl. You were taken from us a long time ago, but I assure you, you belong with us. We’ve missed you terribly.”

  After everything I’d been through, I wanted to believe him, but there were probably many covens after me, trying to steal me. Hell, for all I knew, Pirate Man could be a part of the Augusti Forza.

  But he didn’t kill me when he had the chance.

  He either had to be from another coven, or he really was telling the truth. I just wasn’t sure which. “If you’re really my uncle, then put me down and prove it!”

  He scooted into an empty alleyway and placed me onto the ground against the wall, hidden behind a huge g
arbage dumpster. My aching limbs still trembled, now with an added mix of fright and excitement at the possibility of what he said being true.

  I squinted at him. “If you’re telling the truth then why didn’t you just go to my parents’ house?”

  He shook his head. “They aren’t here. This place has been monitored for so long they couldn’t take the chance, but I know where they are and I can take you there.”

  “Why are you here and not them?”

  He eyed the alleyway and flicked his gaze back on me. “Your parents have looked many years for you, but your captors have powers that made it extremely difficult to find you.” He raised his hands in the air. “That coupled with the fact that another group of people have followed your parents relentlessly.” He lowered his hands, pausing before adding, “Dangerous people.”

  “Yeah those people. Met them.”

  “Okay, well, they hoped your parents would lead them straight to you.” He paced in small circles, his eyes darting throughout the alley. “We knew it must have been Karina and Viktor that took you. Once your parents discovered—well how special you are, and not only special to them, but also potentially to many people—they only allowed a select few access to you. Karina was your mother’s best friend.” He bit his lip. “It broke your mother’s heart to lose you like that, and then not to be able to find you again. But you have to understand, Jewel, the Russians have cloaking powers. It was impossible to find you, no matter how hard your parents tried.”

  He sighed and then smiled. “Your parents only stopped searching a few months ago, and only because they secretly asked me to start. But you must have broken free somehow, no? Because it was suddenly and only recently that you came onto my special radar in Russia.”

  Radar? What the hell does that mean? If he had some kind of power that picked up vibes or whatever, then that would explain how he seemed to sense me at the airport even when I was behind my shell. It was a miracle I’d gotten away at all.