Bone Dry: A Soul Shamans Novel (Volume 1) (13 page)

After several tense moments, the SUV turned onto a street leading into a newer housing development. I gritted my teeth and turned after them, crossing my fingers they wouldn’t notice. When they didn’t pick up speed, slow down or crane their necks to look behind them, I let out a silent sigh of relief.

We only followed them about a hundred feet before they pulled into a driveway. I didn’t even slow down, just kept driving.

“Do you know whose house that is?” I whipped my cell phone out of my pocket. I opened it and then clicked it shut. I wouldn’t be able to call the cops without my number getting traced, and I didn’t want this attached to me at all, which was why I hadn’t reported the shamans for kidnapping me and my friends. I couldn’t afford the police to come knocking on my front door, see my mom and…find out a teenager was living with a vacant parent.

“Jason Harris. They moved into this house a few months ago,” he said. “He was at the beach with his family.”

I gripped the wheel tighter, my knuckles turning the color of falling snow. I’d grown up with Jason. Gone to Elementary School and High School with him all these years. He’d always been quick to burn me a copy of his latest band discovery or take a late night bike ride to the beach before he’d gotten his driver’s license. I fought the urge to pound my fist against the steering wheel. These shamans were really pissing me off.

“Do you have his number?” I asked, slowing down and making a U-turn at the cul-de-sac.

“Got it.” Nathan scanned through and dialed the number on his phone.

I let my truck idle in the dead end, waiting to see what would happen. So much for the neighborhood connection. This one was about ten minutes away from all the other houses they’d targeted. The only connection I could see now was that everyone they went after had money, which didn’t really narrow it down in this town.

“Hey, Jason, man,” Nathan said. “It’s Nathan. Listen, I was just driving by your place and saw a strange car pull in.” A beat passed. “Nah, I think these guys were trying to get into the house.” Another pause. “No problem, man.”

He hung up and grinned. “They’re calling the cops.”

We slapped palms in a hi-five. “Oh, we are so good. We should probably get out of here though.”

I eased the truck down the road and tried not to slow down as we passed Jason’s house. The two shamans were nowhere to be seen, but their SUV still hunkered there in the driveway like the Titanium Man poising to strike.

“I can’t believe they’re dumb enough to do this in broad daylight,” I said as we passed out of view.

“Actually, who expects their house to get broken into during the day? They saw Jason’s family wasn’t home and probably wouldn’t be for awhile, so they took advantage of it.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” I said, coming to a slow stop at the end of the road before turning back on Main Street.

Nathan’s eyes were trained on the side rearview mirror, and all of a sudden, he spun around in his seat to stare open-mouthed out the back window. “Damn it!”

I whipped my head around to see. The SUV was pulling out of the driveway, and I put my foot to the gas to get us out of there. “Do you think they saw us or something?”

“I don’t know,” he said, still twisted in his seat. The SUV turned in the opposite direction that we’d gone. I had the urge to screech to a halt, do another U-ey and follow them again, but I didn’t know how to do that without attracting their attention.

So, instead I just kept driving, fingers twisted around the wheel, letting the shamans get away. We’d almost had them. We’d been so close. Breaking and entering would have net them several years in jail. I should know.

CHAPTER 13

W
hat’s the emergency?” I watched Laura toss a monogrammed duffel bag into her polished sailboat, her streaked hair pulled into a high ponytail. “You sounded weird after I told you about my plans with Nathan. Want to come spy on the shamans with us? I have to go to The Scarlet Witch first, but then we’re meeting up right after.” At the sound of Nathan’s name on my lips, I rubbed my hands together, remembering how warm his fingers had felt between my palms.
Focus
.

Laura sighed and leaned against a wooden beam that stretched up into the light blue sky speckled with puffy, white clouds. “Wish I could, but I can’t.”

Down the dock, several other kids ranging from ten to eighteen were prepping their own sailboats for a morning of swaying on the waves. They ignored the occasional comment from an older, weather-worn man dressed in white pants, boat shoes and a blue-and-white striped sweater, too busy eyeing each other’s boats and outfits.

“Skip the sailboat lessons.”

Laura snorted, animation lighting up her features for the first time since I’d stopped by to see what had given her voice such a sharp edge on the phone. “Dad would kill me.”

Couldn’t argue with that. Laura’s dad had bought her a sailboat for her sixteenth birthday on the condition she’d spend Saturday mornings learning how to guide it through the ocean. Some kids get used cars when they reach legal driving age. Not Laura.

“Then, what’s up?” I asked.

Laura held up a newspaper and pushed it into my hands. Her finger shook as she pointed to an article on the bottom half of the front page. The headline read, “Unexplained Death Rocks Small Town.”

“What’s this?” I asked, shifting the newspaper into the sunlight.

“Read the article,” she said. Her eyes were wide and full of the same fear I’d seen when we were escaping from the two shamans. I scanned the article quickly while Laura lugged a water cooler into her boat.

Police in Seaport, Massachusetts are investigating the unexplained death of Jonathan Collier, 49, who died at approximately 2:30 a.m. Friday morning. His wife reported her husband had been sleeping poorly and having fits of anxiety before collapsing this morning. His heart stopped shortly after. No signs of a heart attack have been found, but police do not suspect foul play.

The body was turned over to the Seaport County Medical Examiner’s office where an autopsy will be performed.

In what appears to be an unrelated crime, the Collier home was burglarized while Mrs. Collier was at the hospital. Several high-priced heirlooms were found missing.

Citizens of the town of Seaport are shocked by the sudden death of such a prominent figure. Mr. Collier was on the County Commissioner board and active in various schooner and golfing communities in the area. Funeral services will be held at Seaport Memorial at 2 p.m. on Sunday, September 22.

There was a small, grainy photo next to the article. Even though Mr. Collier was apparently prominent, I didn’t know him. I squinted, looked closer and sucked in a sharp breath that whistled through my teeth. It was the man from the BMW who had acted like he’d wanted to talk to
me
. I’d thought he just wanted to be nosy, but what if…

The world tipped to one side, and I found myself plopping hard on the bench behind me. The white-crested waves rushing against Laura’s boat blurred my vision. The crash filled my ears, and the back of my throat closed in tight, almost like I was getting seasick even though I was firmly on land with both feet pressed onto the wooden planks. I could see nothing but wavy darkness through the thin cracks between.

I looked up at Laura, who had paused in her boat prep and was now watching me under the flapping sail. The wind whipped at her ponytail, reminding me of the banishment at Brent’s house in those moments before we’d been kidnapped by the shamans. My mouth felt desert-dry, and the reality of the situation roared around me like angry waves, as if I were caught in a storm-filled sea. The water batted my body so hard I couldn’t swim away.

Even though my mind spun over all the possibilities, I could come to only one conclusion. Mr. Collier had been attacked by spirits.

Not only did he have a sudden unexplained death, he’d been having panic attacks and sleeping problems. And he’d wanted to talk to me. He must have heard about me somehow, the Queen of Weird. He hadn’t wanted to lob questions at me. He’d wanted me to help him.

If I’d helped him, he’d still be alive. If I hadn’t brushed him off, he’d still be breathing.

My fingers dug into my palms as I fought the guilt clutching my heart. I blinked. I couldn’t let myself cry even though my eyes itched with the threat of tears. There was no way I could have known, and I couldn’t let my mind go down that path. But it was the truth. If I looked at all the pieces of this puzzle, it meant I’d had a hand in his death. And if I didn’t help Megan or Jason or Kylie’s family friend, they’d be in their own coffin before I could take my next breath.

***

Everything was spinning more and more out of control. As I made the familiar drive to the local magic shop, I tried to work out if I was right about Mr. Collier. The wheels of my brain spun right along with my truck’s tires. I stared out my rolled-down window, breathed in the salty ocean air. Old Mr. Percy waved from the front door of his used bookshop where he was sweeping dust onto the wooden-planked sidewalk. Next door, kids were lining up at the homemade frozen yogurt stand, even with the temperature barely pushing sixty degrees.

When I parked in one of the magic shop’s parking spots, I stared at the newspaper for long, silent moments. Trying to find some evidence in the article that I’d read things wrong. Looking for anything, any sign at all that I could be wrong.

I didn’t find anything.

The local magic shop was another one of the constant fixtures of Seaport. It had been there since the moment we’d moved into town, and the cash register was manned, day after day, by Wanda, whose orange-red hair never changed except for when it brightened after each dye job.

“Hey, Wanda.” The door jingled a new-age-y tone when I swung it open to reveal rows of dusty wooden shelves. They crouched amidst a fog of sweet incense, the burning amber scent swirling with Wanda’s musky patchouli.

“Holly.” She nodded. “Here for some more candles and herbs I’m guessing. Why don’t you pick up something different for a change? I have a nice book on Dark Magicks over there in the back corner.”

After getting my last two black candles stolen by those damn shamans, I was here to stock up on supplies (Wanda’s homemade candles were far superior to the ones I could find at the supermarket). With my limited spending fund, I certainly wouldn’t binge on Dark Magick books even though I was curious about the contents of those pages, wondering if the spells at all resembled my shaman magic.

“No thanks, Wanda,” I said, moving past the smoke-shrouded front check-out and to the back wall where the candles sat waiting to be chosen. “Maybe next time.”

As I was dropping a particularly unique candle into a hemp-weaved shopping basket, Jason Harris sidled up in his signature black ensemble and leaned against a bookshelf of thick volumes that claimed to restore a youthful complexion. His signature floppy hair shielded his eyes like a mop, and he gave me a lopsided grin.

“How is our resident ghost expert these days?” He twirled a long strand of purple beads hanging by the bookshelf and picked up a book that looked like it had seen the bottom of too many trash cans.

I dropped another candle into my basket. “She’s in a hurry to get her candle shopping done.”

“Busy solving crime and saving the day?” He poked his elbow into my side and followed me down the line of candles. My eyes discovered a green one (for healing) that matched the color of Nathan’s eyes.
Maybe we should change that
. I tossed it into the basket.

“Something like that,” I said. “And how are things in your corner of the world? Still breaking the hearts of your fellow drama nerds?”

“Nah,” he said. “One of my improv partners dumped me for a change. Seems she heard about my reputation and decided to get a jump-start.”

“Told you it would catch up to you one of these days,” I said with a laugh, knowing if he were really upset, he wouldn’t be joking around.

“Speaking of catching up,” he said, “how about we catch up later today? If you can make some time in your busy crime-stopping schedule.”

I stopped scanning the candles and turned to face him. “You need something, and I bet I know what it is. My spidey senses are tingling.” But it was more that my heartbeat had just sped up as if Venom were chasing me. We’d been joking around like we always did, but we both knew why he was here. The smile slid from my face as if dumbbells pulled at each corner of my lips.

He tapped the disappearing dimple on my cheek. “You know me too well.”

If anyone else had done that, I would have hated it and probably would have pushed their hand away, but he could get away with that kind of thing with me. After all, he was the guy who had stopped me from rolling around in a poison ivy patch when we were ten years old.

“We’ve got some ghosts in our house,” he said, the sparkle in his eyes disappearing as his forehead crinkled. “Of the nasty variety.”

“Yeah, Nathan Whitman told me you might have a problem.” I shifted the basket in my hands, glancing over my shoulder at the eyebrow-pierced owner, hoping we weren’t being overheard.