Casting Shadows (The Ash Grove Chronicles)

by Amanda DeWees

  Beside Joy, Maddie wore an expression of cold dislike. “You also pointed out to the whole school that Joy was pregnant,” she reminded her.

  “Well, it caught me by surprise,” said Sheila. “But yeah, it was thoughtless for me to just blurt it out.”

  “I wouldn’t say thoughtless. I’d say malicious.”

  Sheila hesitated. “You’re probably right. I’m sorry about that too.”

  Two tables away, Alissa Pennington and Grace Li, Sheila’s chief cohorts, had been listening in disbelief. Now Alissa said loudly, “Are you kidding me?” and the color in Sheila’s face deepened, but she didn’t look in the direction of her supposed friends.

  “The thing is,” said Joy, not unkindly, “I just don’t know why I should believe you.”

  But evidently Sheila had come prepared for resistance. She produced a gift box from her dance bag, and held it out to Joy.

  “I brought a little something for the baby,” she said. “Just to, you know, show how sorry I am.”

  Joy untied the bow and opened the box. She lifted out a baby-sized afghan of fluffy yarn in Easter-egg colors. “Did you make this?” she exclaimed.

  “I crochet a little, yeah. It’s not much, but…”

  “It’s beautiful,” said Joy. “Thank you.” She looked over to William for a cue from him, and he shrugged. It wasn’t his decision.

  Joy decided. “Truce,” she said, and held out her hand for Sheila to shake.

  “I’m so glad,” said Sheila, and took her hand, holding it for a moment as if not sure what to do with it. William wondered in amusement if she had expected to hug it out. But the handshake and a grudging nod from Maddie were the best she could expect until she proved herself.

  “Thanks for being there for me,” she said to William as they got in the lunch line. “I appreciate it.”

  “You didn’t need me, you know,” he said. “Joy’s a softie.”

  “Still, I’d like to do something for you, to thank you.” She reached up and drew her fingers through his hair. He was so startled he almost dropped his tray. “Your hair’s kind of a mess,” she said. “I can cut it for you, if you like.” Then she laughed. “You should see the look on your face. That’s not what you thought I had in mind, is it?”

  “Well…”

  “God, get over yourself. I hardly know you.” But she didn’t seem angry.

  “I didn’t know you could cut hair,” he said. It seemed like the safest thing to say.

  “It’s my secret super power. Come by my room around five, okay?”

  “Okay,” he said, and she took her tray over to the salad bar. Then someone jostled his elbow, and he found Clark watching him expectantly.

  “Just what were you and the bitch goddess discussing?” he asked.

  “Actually, she’s not that bad. We were making plans for her to give me a haircut.”

  Clark’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, is that what they’re calling it these days?” he drawled.

  The room Sheila and Alissa shared was almost spartan in its tidy minimalism. The beds had matching comforters in a blue-and-white print, and a few dance-themed posters and tchotchkes added some color, but otherwise the room was as impersonal as a hotel. William had been expecting something a bit more splashy, with maybe some throw pillows and a toy Chihuahua, but their space suggested that Alissa and Sheila spent most of their time away from it.

  “I guess you keep really busy practicing,” he ventured, as Sheila seated him in a desk chair and draped a towel around his neck.

  “Mm-hmm,” she said, combing his hair smooth and standing back to scrutinize it.

  “Alissa’s in the dance track too, isn’t she?”

  “Uh huh. Look, I don’t talk much when I’m concentrating, so why don’t you tell me stuff.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, tell me about you. All I know is that you’re a musical genius and you don’t get timely haircuts.”

  “Huh. Okay. Random facts about me. Well, I’ve got an older brother, at UNC Asheville, and an older sister. She’s married and living in Germany. My dad plays in the Hollywood Symphony Orchestra, so he and my mom have been living in LA for the last couple of years.”

  He talked on over the sound of the electric clippers while she worked. Her eyes in the mirror were serious, intent on her work; and even with her hands in his hair she didn’t try to flirt with him. Every once in a while she would come around to face him and draw his hair down on both sides of his face, studying the effect. “Do you mind if I trim your sideburns?” she asked. “Around here, say. It would bring out your cheekbones.”

  “Sure, whatever,” he said, thinking that if he hated them he could always grow them out again or shave them off altogether. But when she finally stood back and said, “Finished,” he was pleasantly surprised at his reflection.

  “That’s really cool,” he said. “I look a little like the tenth Doctor.”

  “Like who?”

  “Forget it.” No way did Sheila watch Doctor Who. “Thanks, Sheila.”

  “Don’t mention it.” She removed the towel and carried it to the window, where she shook out the little hairs. “If you find any places I missed, let me know.”

  “Sure.” He stood up, and realized he didn’t know what to say next. “I’ll get to work on that music for you,” he said at length. “My band’s playing tonight at McCloskey’s. Sunday I’ll be catching up on schoolwork, but if you wanted to meet up Monday when lunch period starts, I could probably have something for you by then.”

  “That would be great. Um, what time is the McCloskey’s gig? I mean, I might be able to make it.”

  “We go on at nine,” he said, surprised. “I didn’t think that was your kind of thing.”

  She laughed. She had a great laugh, sudden and boisterous; it seemed too big for someone so slender. “What, you think all ballet students spend their Saturday nights at the symphony?”

  “Well, of course. While wearing tutus and doing pliés. Don’t tell me you’re going to shatter my illusions.”

  “I wouldn’t want to do that.” She leaned in close and before he knew what she was doing she had blown gently on his neck. “Stray hairs,” she explained.

  He wasn’t sure if she was flirting or not. It would be interesting, to say the least, to see how things went on Monday.

  * * *

  Joy dropped her father off on campus Monday morning and returned to a house that felt very empty. It was always hard to adjust to Tan going to work on Monday after being home on the weekend. She decided to console herself with a decadent breakfast and was putting English muffins in the toaster when she heard Tanner’s footsteps behind her, ascending the basement stairs.

  “Good morning,” he said, and brushed her hair aside to kiss the nape of her neck.

  “I thought you’d gone to work,” she said, surprised but pleased. “Something come up?”

  “I decided I’d rather spend the day with you.” He took her by the shoulders and turned her around to face him. “How does that sound?”

  “Well, it sounds great. And you’re all dressed up, too.” She took in the designer shirt and… were those his man-whore pants? “Is that for my benefit?”

  He smiled. “Who else would I be dressing up for? I haven’t had my morning kiss, by the way.”

  Willingly she stood on tiptoe to exchange the brief kiss that had become their norm, but he had other ideas: cradling her face in his hands, he took his time over a leisurely, thorough kiss before finally releasing her.

  “Wow,” she said, breathless. “You’re frisky today. Not that I’m complaining, but what brought this on?”

  His eyes were intent on hers, gauging her reaction. “Is there something wrong with me wanting to kiss my fiancée?”

  “Well, no, but I thought you were afraid to get too snuggly. Because of the baby.” She couldn’t quite keep the skepticism out of her voice.

  “I don’t think a kiss or two will hurt anything.” He suited action to the words
, and soon she could feel heat tingling in her face. “How is the baby, by the way?” he asked when they came up for air. “Everything normal? Anything unusual?”

  “Just the usual unusualness.” He was too intent; this wasn’t right. She took a step back, putting a little distance between them. “If anything had changed, I would have told you. What’s up with you today? You haven’t been this smoochy since the day after you moved in.”

  He stepped toward her, closing the distance. “I just needed some time,” he said, soothingly, as if to a frightened wild animal. “To get used to everything. But now I see that being pregnant only makes you more beautiful.”

  More?

  She retreated until her back was against the kitchen counter. As he advanced, she reached behind her and felt around until her fingers found something she could use as a weapon.

  “Get back,” she commanded, holding it out to stop him. She saw now that it was only a fork. Terrific. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re not yourself. Keep away from me.”

  This earned an injured look. “Joy, this is your Tristan you’re talking to.”

  “Tanner. Tanner is his name, not Tristan. Are you some kind of demon that’s gotten into his body?” She wished the salt shaker was within reach. Or something silver—stainless steel cutlery wasn’t going to do her much good, especially because she didn’t think she could bring herself to actually use it. Even if it was something alien that had taken over Tanner, it was still Tanner’s body, and she didn’t know if she’d be able to hurt it. Him. Was he there inside, a prisoner in his own body? “Back off or I’ll—I’ll stick you.”

  He grinned at the sight of so feeble a weapon. “There’s no need for that, sweetheart. I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to know how much of Melisande you managed to absorb.”

  “How much I—”

  “—and the baby too, of course. The two of you could be very useful to me. Now, just hold still and let’s get better acquainted.”

  “Get back. I mean it.” As he leaned closer she brought the tines of the fork against his chest, pressing into the fabric of his shirt, but then she paused to summon up her will. He saw her hesitation.

  “Stop being silly,” he said. “You’re not going to shish kebab your baby daddy. The more you fight me, the longer this is going to take.”

  Then came the sound the front door opening. “Joy?” called a familiar voice. “Are you home? I forgot that wheel I was relacing. I told Bobby I’d bring it today and—” His voice came to an abrupt stop at the kitchen door. A second Tanner stood on the threshold, staring at the Tanner standing with Joy. A prickle tightened Joy’s scalp as she looked from one to the other. Except that the newcomer was wearing scruffy jeans and t-shirt, the two were identical. Joy felt as if the floor were tipping out from under her feet. She saw the new Tanner’s throat convulse as he swallowed. “What in the—”

  The Tanner nearest Joy gave a grunt of exasperation. “So much for subtlety,” he muttered, and, knocking the fork out of her grasp with one hand he planted the other hand square on her belly.

  Electricity seemed to surge through her belly into his hand. The force flung him clear across the room to crash against the refrigerator. His head struck with an audible crack, and he fell to the floor.

  The real Tanner was instantly at Joy’s side. “Are you all right? What did he do to you?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, trying to catch her breath. The power that had flung off the false Tanner had felt only like a tingle to her, and even that was subsiding. But the shock of two Tanners was making her a little dizzy. “How about you? It’s really you this time, isn’t it?”

  “It’s really me. What happened?”

  “Rose happened. Evidently she didn’t like being crowded. But who is he?”

  “That’s what I was going to ask.” With Tanner’s arms around her, they stood watching his double. Amazingly, the force with which he had struck the refrigerator had not knocked him out. As Joy watched in disbelief, he shook his head once to clear it and got to his feet, steadying himself with one hand on the countertop.

  “That’s quite a little firebrand you’ve got there, Tristan,” he said with a grin. “It’s too bad you didn’t give us just a few minutes more.”

  “What are you?” demanded Tanner. “What do you want with us?”

  A thin trickle of blood was running from the double’s nose. He dabbed at it gingerly with one knuckle. “Nothing with you, lover boy. But I have some unfinished business with cupcake here and the baby. Too bad it’ll have to wait.” He gave Joy a look that made her skin crawl. “Next time I’ll make sure we aren’t interrupted.”

  “You’re not ever coming near Joy again.” Tanner released her and started toward his double, drawing back a fist, but she grabbed his arm to hold him back.

  “Tan, don’t. We don’t know what he is or what he can do.”

  The two Tanners faced each other for a moment. Joy didn’t lessen her grip.

  “Au revoir, then,” said the false Tanner, and flashed a final mocking grin at them before darting past them and through the back door.

  Chapter 9

  The real Tanner took only a moment to react and run after him, but it was long enough. The intruder vanished into the trees before Tanner could catch up with him.

  By the time he returned, reaction was setting in, and Joy was shaking. He held her for a long time.

  “I’m calling your father,” he said, and she didn’t object. “And Bobby too. I’ll let him know I won’t be in today.”

  As soon as her father learned what had happened, he canceled his plans for the day and caught a ride home. When he arrived he held Joy at arm’s length and took a good look at her before pulling her to him for a hug. “It’ll be okay, kittycat. I’m here now. Tell me what happened.”

  Before he sat down he got out a legal pad and pen and prepared to take notes. Well, it made sense; he was a scholar, after all. It just made her think of a policeman taking down a report.

  Tan sat close to her on the sofa, a protective arm around her shoulders. It was ironic that this was the most physically affectionate Tan had been with her in weeks, and it took this… thing to bring them together this way.

  Her father was understandably shocked to learn that the false Tanner had already been inside the house when Joy arrived. “I know you didn’t leave the house unlocked.”

  “I, uh, may have forgotten to lock up behind me,” said Tanner. “I’ll be more careful from now on.”

  “I should hope so,” said her father stiffly, and beside her Tanner colored slightly.

  “I had no idea anything like this would happen. I’d never knowingly put Joy in danger.”

  “And anyway,” Joy interposed, “this thing was obviously supernatural. Maybe regular locks aren’t any good against it.”

  “You’re positive it was supernatural? It wasn’t just someone who resembled Tanner?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Well, if it was just a doppelganger or a homunculus, its abilities would be limited to those of the form it’s in. But if it’s something else—say, a shapeshifter or a skinwalker—it may not be subject to mortal human constraints. Tell me more about it. Was it exactly like you, Tanner, or were there any details that seemed off?”

  “I didn’t have much chance to find out. It didn’t stick around for long after I got here—and thank god I forgot that wheel and came back. But Joy had already realized something was up. She was trying to hold him off—hold it off—with a fork.”

  “So you knew even before Tanner arrived that it wasn’t the real Tanner. What gave it away?”

  “Practically everything. Wearing the wrong clothes. Calling me beautiful, when Tanner knows I hate that. And when he kissed me—”

  “It kissed you?” Tanner’s voice rose.

  “Yeah. A lot, actually. I think he thought it would make everything seem normal. Shows how little he knows about us.” She could hear how bitter she sounded, but she could
n’t seem to stop it. “If he’d really been in character, he would have pulled away like I was contagious.”

  “Joy!”

  “I’m sorry, Tan, but that’s what it feels like. I can understand if I repulse you, I guess, since I look like a manatee that swallowed a beach ball, but it still hurts.” Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, and she squeezed her eyes shut to force them back. “I know that’s the real reason you like having separate rooms. I just wish you’d tell me the truth.”

  “Joy, you don’t repulse me. It’s taken all the strength I have… we just didn’t know if it was safe. I mean, I didn’t.”

  We?

  She stared at her father with hot eyes. “What’s going on? Did you tell Tanner not to get snuggly with me?”

  He held his hands up, placating. “Now, Joy, it isn’t what you think.”

  A horrible new idea was dawning on her. She pulled away from Tanner’s encircling arm and looked from him to her father. “The other Tanner thought I’d absorbed some of Melisande’s essence. You thought the same thing, didn’t you? That I’ve been—what, tainted? Corrupted? Is that the right word?”

  “Babe—”

  “Kittycat—”

  “And instead of just talking to me, asking me if I felt weird or anything, asking me to take tests—because I would have! But instead of just being honest, you tell the father of my child that just on the off chance that something’s wrong, he shouldn’t get too friendly with me?”

  “Joy,” said her father, “calm down.”

  “When were you going to tell me? Or were you just going to keep me under observation indefinitely, and hope that some day some supernatural all-clear would sound?”

  Shoulders hunched, Tan sat tense and guarded. “Maybe we should do this another time…”

  “No, this has been going on since—when, Dad? When did you tell my husband-to-be that I was potentially toxic and had to be kept at arm’s length? The night he moved in?”