by S D Hegyes
“Sometimes it’s not so bad.” Sorsha shrugged as she and Charlotte worked together to fold a bedsheet.
Charlotte’s nose wrinkled. “It sounds like a cult to me.”
One shoulder rose with Sorsha’s shrug. “For some people, taking the ability to make decisions is a dream come true. I know women there who love being housewives, love cooking and cleaning and raising children. That’s not for me.”
“And you’re not allowed to leave.”
“I won’t be.”
“So why not run away now?” Charlotte took the sheet and put in a cupboard above her head.
Instead of answering, Sorsha asked her own question. “Your boss won’t mind my being here?”
“Not a bit.” Charlotte waved a hand dismissively. “Now, stop avoiding the question.”
Sorsha paused in folding a pillowcase and looked away. “Part of me wants to. The other part of me knows I’m not anywhere near prepared to live on my own. As much as I hate Shaded Glade, it has provided for me all my life. I’ve never wanted for food or shelter, and all my basic needs have been met. Anyone else wouldn’t complain, I guess.” She let the words trail off as a sliver of guilt stabbed her.
“But it’s not freedom,” Charlotte said. She stood and watched Sorsha who shook her head.
“No, it’s not, but I can’t leave until I have all my documents that would allow me to live my own life as well.”
“What do you mean?” Charlotte’s brow came together in confusion.
“I don’t have access to my birth certificate. I have no idea what my social security number is. There’s never been a reason for me to get a license since I don’t drive, so I don’t have any kind of ID either. As far as anyone’s concerned, I don’t exist.”
“Oh.” The other woman frowned. “I always forget that there’s. . . I don’t know—More?—to escaping a bad life, I guess.”
Sorsha nodded. “I wish I could be one of those people that just picked up and left, and I imagine there’s people who do just that, but. . .” She shook her head. “I’m not one of them. I want to make sure when I leave, no one can come after me, and I have no reason to return. Ever.”
Charlotte nodded. “Plus, there’s no telling how anyone in Shaded Glade would use that information against you should you leave it behind. Someone might use your identity, if they haven’t already.”
The teenager flinched at that. “I hadn’t thought about that, but I wouldn’t put it past anyone there honestly.”
Her companion whistled as she returned to her work. “I don’t blame you for leaving. They all sound like a real piece of work.”
Sorsha nodded, but she wasn’t really paying attention either. The knowledge that someone from the community might use her identity irked her. She remembered her conversation with her mother and knew that she’d be changing her name as soon as she left Shaded Glade. It was top priority on her task list now. Whatever she had to do to protect herself from Shaded Glade’s wrath, she’d do.
It was only after all the laundry had been folded and put away that Sorsha even thought about leaving again. She glanced at the clock on the wall and then turned back to Charlotte. “It’s later than I thought.”
Charlotte nodded. “That tends to happen these days.”
“You do this every day? On your own?”
The older woman nodded. “Most days aren’t so bad. Not many tourists stay here, as it’s new and not the best to boot. Not many realize it’s here if they’ve never been here before.” She shrugged one shoulder dismissively.
“I guess that makes sense.” Sorsha shoved the last comforter in the only place remaining that was big enough to host it. “But shouldn’t there be more employees?”
“Oh, there were. One recently passed away. She was an older woman. Her granddaughter also worked here, and after her grandmother’s death, she decided it might be best to move to the city.” Charlotte shook her head. “Not many want to live this close to the battlefield. It’s. . . I can’t explain it. It’s sad that so many have died and been buried there, but it’s also. . .” She groped for words, her mouth twisting in strange ways as she tried to find the right one.
“It holds power,” Sorsha supplied.
Charlotte snapped her fingers. “Yes. That. It’s not a bad thing, but it’s scary.” She shivered and shook her head. “I don’t like visiting there. I don’t see how anyone would want to work there.”
Sorsha didn’t tell Charlotte that’s where she’d been trying to go before she realized it was still open to tourists. She also didn’t tell her that she liked feeling the power of the place, that it reminded her of home more than her own home did.
Instead, she said, “I get it.”
“You ever feel that way. Like, you can’t explain what you don’t like about something. Only that you don’t like it. It just feels bad?”
The teenager started to shake her head, but then the memory of scarlet slipped through her mind. Mist, teeth, eyes. Why did she remember that now? What did it mean? She shook her head to clear it, but Charlotte took it to mean her answer.
“I guess I’m crazy to think something like that, but I won’t apologize for such thoughts. That place, as much as I appreciate it and what it represents, gives me the creeps.” She shuddered again and then pulled Sorsha toward her for a hug. “You going to be alright?”
When Sorsha met the woman’s eyes, she saw the sincerity of the question there. Why was she concerned about Sorsha? They’d just met. The idea confused her, but it also warmed her as well. Someone who didn’t know anything about her or her abilities might care about her and what happened to her.
“I’ll be fine,” she replied with what she hoped was a reassuring grin. It felt stiff and out of place on her face.
Charlotte studied her expression, as if trying to find the lie in Sorsha’s words. Finally pulled away and released the teen from her gaze before she pulled Sorsha toward her for a hug.
“You take care of yourself, got that, Sorsha?”
“I will.”
“And if you ever need a place to hide for a couple hours, I’ve got you covered. Got that?”
Sorsha laughed. “Thanks. It’s nice to have a safe place to go.”
Charlotte patted her back and released her. “You’ll be alright kid. Get on out of here before someone comes searching for you.”
Sorsha had to agree to that. “They would too, if they haven’t already.”
Since no one had dragged her away yet, she didn’t think anyone from Shaded Glade had been sent after her. If they had, Charlotte might have been questioned while she was still cleaning rooms.
There was no telling the lengths the community might go to keep one of their members, even someone they didn’t like that much. It was all thanks to the fact that she was female. She knew if she’d been male, there’d be less concern about whether she stayed or went.
It was another reason to hate Shaded Glade. The faster she got away, the sooner she could start living her life the way she wanted to. She couldn’t wait for that adventure.
Charlotte stepped past her and held the door open for Sorsha who stepped outside and waited for her.
“Good luck, Sorsha. With everything. Something tells me you’re going to need it.”
“Thanks.” Sorsha smiled at her. “I’ll see you around.”
“That you will,” Charlotte said, laughing. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”
Nodding, Sorsha walked across the parking lot. Curiosity made her glance around to see if the sedan from earlier was back in the parking lot. She didn’t see it.
A mixture of relief and disappointment wafted through her. Part of her wanted to see them again, and another part of her knew it was a good thing she hadn’t.
Still, as she started to follow the main road back up toward the national monument, a feeling of being watched washed over her.
She froze in the middle of the deserted road, shoulders hunched in as she tried to shake the feeling. When she
couldn’t, she looked back, scanning the area for the source.
When she looked up at the second floor, she saw a man leaning against the railing. He had one toe resting on the floor while the other foot remained flat on the ground. His arms folded over one another on the railing as he leaned out and watched Sorsha.
She couldn’t read the expression on his face. His watching her might have creeped her out, but she felt nothing but curiosity toward the man.
He was the same man she’d seen earlier, the Asian man with dark, haunted eyes. She cocked her head to the side and met his gaze. Somehow, even the distance they were from one another didn’t change how intense their exchange was.
A shudder ran through her once more, and she saw his mouth tilt upward in a knowing smile. She snorted at him. Another man who knew he was gorgeous. Just what she needed. She would be best staying away from him, she knew.
Still, she couldn’t help the wave of attraction that made her want to clench her legs together. She let her gaze drift over him. Black jeans. Leather jacket. He was thin and lithe. She hummed her appreciation for the chance to view this piece of eye-candy, but she knew that was all it could be.
There was no way she would let herself fall for another version of Preston. No way. She still felt the sting of Preston’s rejection of her, years later.
With a groan, Sorsha turned away. The faster she got out of Shaded Glade and found somewhere else to go and something else to do, the better.
She spared the man one final glance before she turned away. She walked toward the monument even as the last of the tourists were leaving for the day. Soon enough she could focus on leaving Shaded Glade—preferably before she found herself in deeper trouble than she could handle.
7
Finding a place to hide until the guards left for the evening was Sorsha’s only problem. Tourists were leaving in droves, but she still had to wait before she could visit the monument.
Lucky for her, she knew the guards’ schedules like the back of her hand. It allowed her to avoid them as she dived across the cemetery.
Still, she only breathed easy once she was sure the last of the employees and guards were gone and she was alone in the cemetery. Only then did she follow the path that led down into the circular dome of the Indian Monument.
As soon as she stepped inside the circle, she felt her ears pop and her skin warmed from the inside-out. Her body hummed with energy. She heard the whispers of hundreds of voices in her ear, as if those honored with the monument were each trying to speak to her at once.
She tuned out the voices and focused on her power. Orange wisps of smoke curled around her hands, drifting in lazy trails. She held up her hands and studied them for a moment, but they didn’t look any different than they had in the past.
Part of her had wondered if something had changed when she trapped Private Thaddeus in the card, but it seemed nothing had.
Except now, when she looked up, she saw several ghosts in front of her. All of them with various expressions of anger and worry on their face. They knew she could see them. No more hiding the fact.
She took a step back, fear slipping through her as she reached up to the scar on her bicep and remembered why she hadn’t spoken to the ghosts here. Then she remembered most of the ghosts before her were soldiers and stood taller, narrowing her eyes back at them.
“Yes?”
A couple of the ghosts’ expressions changed to shock. “You can see us?” one of them asked.
She nodded. “I can. I don’t advertise it. It tends to end badly.” She reached up to her bicep before she could stop herself. Several pairs of eyes followed her hand’s path to the thin scars that marred her arm in criss-crossing fashion.
“What happened to Private Thaddeus?” a ghost standing behind the others demanded.
There were several choruses of agreements and other questions that blended together. All demanded Sorsha’s response.
“I don’t know what happened,” she snapped. Frustration filled her, even as she turned away, throwing her hands in the air as she paced the diameter of the monument.
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know that either.”
Sorsha’s hands went to her hips and she dug her nails into her skin to remind herself not to get too upset at those around her. They were scared, and she couldn’t blame them. Somehow, she’d taken their friend and comrade-in-arms away. She still hadn’t figured out how or why it had happened.
“When is he coming back?”
“Is he coming back?”
“Did you kill him?”
“Are you going to kill us?”
“What are you?”
“Sorcery!”
“Magic!”
“She’s a witch!”
“Witch!”
“Witch!”
“Witch!”
The ghosts and their responses circled her, drowning out her own thoughts. Her power rose up within her, and she ground her teeth together to force it down.
“Look!” she snapped, effectively drowning out their own words and accusations. “I don’t know what happened. He screamed. I screamed. Pain shot through me and the next thing I know, the card’s black and his image is caught in the middle. What do you want from me? Do you want me to tell you I killed him? How do you kill a ghost?”
She paced the circle even as she spoke. By the time she’d finished talking, she stood in the direct center of the monument. Power coursed through her, burning her skin. The mist swirling her hands now swam with a frenzy of feeding sharks. She glanced at it before she returned her attention to the crowd of a dozen or so ghosts before her.
“I. Don’t. Know. What. Happened.” She spat each word between clenched teeth, trying to calm down. “We’re trying to figure that out. I came here tonight hoping to ask the ghosts here if you knew anything. He’s also trying to figure it out.”
“You’ve seen him? He’s not dead?”
Sorsha shook her head. “No. He’s not dead. He’s very much alive. He’s already made his aggression toward me known. I don’t need your animosity as well. I don’t have the time or energy for it considering I haven’t done anything to anyone else, and I don’t plan to.”
“But since you don’t know what you did, you could, couldn’t you?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t know any of your names, and I don’t plan on learning them.”
“It has something to do with our names?” another ghost asked.
She nodded. “That’s our guess so far. Now, Private Thaddeus is fine. He’s alive—if you can consider a ghost alive—and well. Angry at me, but I understand it. Now, if you don’t know anything that could be of use to me, please leave me alone so I can figure this out on my own.”
“You can bring him back? How?”
“What do you want from me?” Sorsha snapped. “I held up the card.” She pulled the deck of cards from her pocket and removed the blackened card before shoving the rest of the deck back in her back pocket. “Then I said, ‘Private Thaddeus,’ and—”
The orange mist around her arms dove for the card and sank into it. It lit up bright enough to blind Sorsha momentarily before it dissipated and then Sorsha was standing before the unhappy soldier.
“Dammit, woman. What do you want from me? I can’t get answers if you keep calling me when I’m trying to get them.”
“You brought him back,” one of the other ghosts said.
The private grunted.
“Thanks. I can see that,” she said, sarcasm clear in her tone.
“You’re freaking out,” Private Thaddeus pointed out.
“Of course I’m freaking out. Talking to ghosts is one thing. Somehow locking them in cards is another thing entirely.”
“It just means you’re not a medium, like I thought,” the private said. He turned toward the other ghosts. “Get out of here. I’m alive and well, and this is none of your concern.”
The other ghosts dissipated as if they hadn’t ever been there to
begin with.
Sorsha blinked and rubbed her eyes, but the soldier’s words still haunted her. “What do you mean I’m not a medium like you thought? If I’m not a medium, what am I?”
“You’re a phantom,” said a voice behind her. There was an accent to his words she couldn’t place, but that didn’t surprise her. She wasn’t well-versed in any accents.
Sorsha spun around so fast she felt her balance wobble for a moment and she dropped the blackened playing card. The orange smoke around her hands faded as Private Thaddeus took his leave.
Once she had corrected her balance and returned her gaze to the speaker, she felt her breath catch in her throat. It was the man from the hotel who’d been watching her.
He stood with his back to the outer wall of the monument, leaning against it with his hands crossed over his chest and a knowing grin on his cocky face. His dark eyes met hers and she felt warmth bubble in the pit of her stomach. This was different from the warmth her powers gave her though. It felt like when she’d first met Preston.
She grit her teeth against that thought. No. She refused to have that feeling again.
Her body ignored her. She felt her heartbeat race, and it wasn’t because he’d scared her to death.
“What?” she asked.
“A phantom.” He gestured behind her. “And I’m guessing your friends are spirits. I can’t see them, so I can’t know for sure.”
For a moment, she stared at him. Then she laughed. The air filled with the sound of her laughter, The sound changed as she tried to catch her breath and failed, and she clutched at her stomach.
The man’s brows came together in confusion, and his mouth pursed as if he couldn’t see what was so funny.
“Oh, man, this is too good. Where did you come from? Is this a joke?”