Bone Dry: A Soul Shamans Novel (Volume 1) (30 page)

T
his was just
insane
.

It was an old picture. My mom looked the way she did in her wedding pictures with my dad. Happy, waist-length hair, even younger than she looked before the accident. Anthony looked exactly the same. I got off the floor to sit in the posh office chair, head in hands, breath heavy.

I’d been tricked. Lied to.

Conned.

Anthony Lombardi was the shaman behind this cult, behind Tyler’s death, behind all the bodies under the floorboards. And the shaman responsible for my mom. He’d known who I was. He’d thrown me off course. I didn’t know what my mom was doing in a picture with him from twenty years ago, both looking like two people in love.

He’d sent me down a rabbit hole. I’d stumbled into his lair, and yet he had let me leave with instructions on how to find…him. I popped up my head and stared at the picture again as if it could hold the answer to all these disjointed clues.

None of it made any sense to me.

I pushed away from the desk and looked around at the rows of filing cabinets, at the towering bookshelves jammed with psychology and medical texts. I needed to get out the building somehow, but remembering the girl from the hallway, I tried going through a few of the drawers for information. I turned up mostly empty.

There were files on several kids and a few adults, but it wasn’t anything more than what you’d find in an employment file. Just name, date, place of birth and vital stats. The cult was apparently called The Founder’s Institution, and a paper said it was a home for troubled kids.

Yeah, right
.

There was nothing on what was really going on here, but I knew it wasn’t anything good. A private care facility for troubled kids who got locked in their rooms? I
might
have believed it was real if it was owned by anyone other than the lying shaman, Anthony Lombardi.

I moved to the door and put my ear against the paneling. I could hear the rumble of a cart and muffled voices. I wondered if I’d be able to sneak the door open without anyone noticing.

No way, I thought. If anyone glanced in this direction, they wouldn’t miss a door opening on its own. I might be invisible, but I wasn’t invincible. And that nurse from before might put two and two together and realize something more was going on than met the eye.

I sighed and turned to a small window covered by a heavy curtain. I pulled the curtain aside and saw the window wasn’t barred. I undid the lock and pushed it open, then popped out the screen. I wished I could break out that girl and whoever else was trapped. I had to believe they’d be okay while I tried to take down the guy who had put them here.

I dropped to the ground behind the building and back into the pouring rain, shoes sinking into mud. I shivered in the cold and made my way back to the car where Nathan was waiting, as per our plan.

When I slammed the door, Nathan stared curiously in my direction.

“I’m assuming the invisible person who just got in my car is Holly.” He reached over, fingers brushing my knee. “Find anything? Do I need to speed out of here in our trusty ShamanMobile?”

“We’re good, I think.” I quickly burned the rune as I dripped on Nathan’s leather, wishing there was something I could do about the gross jeans plastered to my legs. While I put my supplies into my backpack, I told Nathan what I’d found. He started the car, listening, driving aimlessly down the road away from the private care facility.

“What do we do Nathan?” I asked, dropping my head into my hands.

Nathan ran his fingers through his hair, and water droplets sprayed his steering wheel. “I can’t believe it was the Astrology Zone guy all this time.”

“I need his blood. I have to go find him, but there must be some reason he’s done all this. I mean, he practically gave me the information to find him. I don’t get it.”

“Holly, you have his blood. Remember?”

I sucked in a lungful of air. Nathan was right. I did have his blood. He’d given it to me. I’d had it the whole time.

I fought the urge to scream, tears pricking my eyes and blurring my vision. These past twenty-four hours I’d been searching for it, I’d had it in my hands. Instead of using it to save mom, I’d been running around in circles trying to find Anthony Lombardi.

Nathan saw my tears and pulled off the road, car bumping into ruts. My heart thundered like a steam engine in my chest. Nathan cut the engine and took my hands in his. He met my gaze, and his green eyes immediately sent a wave of calm through me.

“You have his blood, right?” He squeezed my hands. “It’s going to be okay.”

I nodded. “Let me check. To make sure.” My hands shook as they dug through my backpack and brought out the pouch Anthony had given me. I slid the zipper open and pulled out the vial. There it was. I smiled through my tears. Less than half of it was left, but it would be enough. All I needed was a drop of his lying blood to get her back.

“I have it,” I whispered to Nathan.

“Good.” He reached across me and opened the glove compartment. After digging around, he pulled out a small pack of tissues and handed them to me.

“Thanks.” I tore open the plastic and rubbed my face dry of tears, my neck dry of rain. There wasn’t much a pack of tissues could do for my soaking t-shirt and soggy sneakers chilling my entire body, but I felt a little refreshed by a dry face.

“Do you think Astrology Zone Guy was lying when he said your mom only had the rest of today left?” Nathan asked, pushing the glove compartment shut with a click.

I thought back to the conversation, to the tone of his voice, to the detached way he’d spoken to me about losing Mom. He’d seemed like he was hiding something when I’d met him at his office but not when I’d called him for help. “No, I think he was serious.”

“Then, let’s get back to your house.” Nathan glanced at the dashboard clock’s glowing green numbers. “It’s only two. We should have enough time for you to get back and cast that spell.”

Nathan brought the truck back to life and pulled into a stream of cars whose slick wheels slurped the wet pavement. His wipers left streaks across the rain-clogged windshield. Streetlamps burned yellow in the darkened world.

“You’re going to get her back, Holly.” Nathan glanced over at me. “She’s going to be okay.”

His words were interrupted by the ringing of my cell phone. I dug it out of my damp pocket and looked at the readout, expecting Laura. I was surprised when I saw a strange number instead.

I flipped open the phone. “Hello?”

“Is this Holly Bennett?” a strange yet familiar male voice asked, but I couldn’t place where I’d heard it.

“Yes…” I said, alert and cautious.

“Well hello, Holly the Meddler.” And instantly, I knew who it was. Red Tee Guy. Unease slithered through me.

“What do you want?” I was glad to hear my voice come out as hard as Superman’s abs.

“You meddled after we asked you not to,” he said. “You remember what we told you would happen, don’t you? Well, it turns out we went by your house to collect you, and your friend was there. What’s her name?”

My face drained of all color, and I gripped the phone so tight I thought it would crack under the pressure. “Leave her alone.”

“Too late,” he said. “But, I’ll tell you what, we’ll let her go if you come visit us nice and easy. Stop whatever you’re doing right now and meet us at our place.”

“Where is that?” I asked, teeth gritting together hard.

He read me the address. The one I already knew. “Be here by three o’clock. If you aren’t, we’ll take back what we said about not hurting pretty little shaman girls. And make sure you don’t call the cops. If we see them pull up outside, things will get nasty.”

The phone clicked off. I yanked it away from my ear like it burned. Laura. They had Laura. Nathan’s voice broke through the fog crowding my brain, and I realized he’d been saying my name.

“Holly,” he said again. “What’s wrong?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “That was one of the shamans from Berrytown. They have Laura. They said…” My voice hitched. “They said if I didn’t come to their house by three, they’re going to kill her.”

“Shit,” he whispered. “Call the cops.”

“They said if the cops show up, things will get nasty. Whatever that means. I don’t want to test it to find out.” I clutched my phone tighter in my fist and felt the side buttons digging into my skin.

“What do they want?” He shook his head, and water sprayed my face from his still-damp hair. “Why do they want you to go to their house?”

“I think it’s a trade. They want me instead of her.” I heard a dry laugh escape from my throat. It sounded bitter and hoarse. “Not that I think they’ll let her go if I do what they say.”

“Okay. We’ll figure something out,” he said, pulling the car onto the highway that would take us back home. “We have about forty-five minutes to come up with a plan.”

I clutched my soggy shirt in my fists. “But what about Mom? How can I choose?” I couldn’t choose between them.

“It’s only early afternoon. We have time to do both. We can rescue Laura from the shamans and then fly our asses off to your house in time to fix your mom. It can work. I really think it can.”

I sighed, my shoulders sagging. “You should just drop me off at my truck, and I’ll go alone. I appreciate everything you’ve done to help me, but these guys are way too dangerous. They’re crazy shamans
and
they have guns. You could get killed.”

Nathan clenched his jaw. “So could you. I know it’s dangerous, but I want to help you.”

“But why?” I sunk into the leather seat, feeling as though the fire inside me had been doused by all the rain. “Why would you risk your life?”

“Because I care about you, Holly. Haven’t you figured that out by now?” He glanced over, and I saw pink spots on his cheeks. “I like you. You’re a seriously cool girl. You know comics, you’re funny, and you are one of the most caring people I’ve ever met.”

I winced. He liked me because he thought I was caring. He was willing to risk his life to help a girl he was totally wrong about. “No, I’m not caring, Nathan.” I took a deep breath and decided to take the plunge. He needed to know the entire story before facing these shamans. “Listen, I haven’t told you everything about me. All those cases I’ve done for people at school? Yours was real, but most of them were cons. Nothing was really haunting people. I was behind the entire thing.”

I braced myself for his reaction, readying myself for the disdain I’d see in his eyes. He was one of the Good Guys, and he wouldn’t understand. I hated that disdain would replace the smile I usually saw, but it was time Nathan knew the truth about me. The entire truth.

But instead, the corners of his mouth quirked up. “I know.”

“What?” I shook my head hard, eyes widening. I’d heard him wrong. What he’d said was impossible. “You know?”

He twisted his hands on the steering wheel. “Yeah. Laura told me. I’ve known all this time.”

“Laura told you?” My voice rose a few notches, coming out in a high-pitched squeak. I cleared my throat and lowered my volume. My heart thumped painfully inside me. I couldn’t believe Nathan knew. He knew and hadn’t told me? This must have been what Laura meant about his closet skeleton.

“Yeah, listen, I’m so sorry. Laura told me when she was tutoring me for math,” he said. “My dad made me get a tutor because my grades were really sucking last year. Laura said she’d help, but she didn’t want to be paid in cash. Instead, she wanted me to help get Sarah Richman out of her house so Laura could set up her ghost prank. I thought the prank was pretty funny, so I went along with it. Sarah and I went for ice cream while Laura did her thing.”

I remembered the Sarah Richman case and how Laura said she’d been sneaky about finding a way to get into Sarah’s room, but I’d never thought much about it. Now, I was hearing Nathan helped? Nathan, the Good Guy? I blinked. I was having a hard time wrapping my tired brain around this new information.

“Laura would have told me.”

“I asked her not to,” Nathan said, turning the wipers up a speed as the rain poured down even harder. “I told her I wanted to be the one to tell you, but then it was summer. The next time I saw you was this past Thursday when all of this started. And after everything that’s happened with your mom, I didn’t feel right about bringing up the pranks.”

I turned away from him to stare out the window. “You must think I’m a terrible person.”

“No, Holly, I don’t.” He reached over and placed his hand over mine. My fingers twitched with the desire to wrap around his hand in return, but instead, I forced them sit there. “You needed the money. Nobody got hurt. You have to admit, the ghost thing is kind of funny.”

“But you would never do something like that.” I ripped my gaze from the window and back to his face again. This time the smile was gone, replaced by an intense concentration that hardened all his features. Concentration on the blurry road or on my words, I didn’t know.

“That’s not true.” He sighed. “Remember how I said my grades were sucking?”

“Yeah?” I found myself leaning slightly toward him, anxious to hear what new thing I’d discover about Nathan Whitman.

“Well, that wasn’t just due to my terrible math skills. I hung out with Brent a lot last year, and he’s big into going as wild as possible. Parties, pranks, games. So, I wasn’t doing a lot of homework last year, and my grades sucked because of it.”

I leaned forward a bit more, catching the scent of cinnamon. Even the rain hadn’t managed to wash Nathan clean of that smell. “Pranks?”

“Right.” He flicked his blinker to change lanes. “There was this prank we came up with one weekend. You might have heard about the eighteen-hole graffiti job at the country club?”

The country club graffiti. It was a legend at our high school. Last year, someone had gone through and spray-painted every hole on the golf course. Some were cartoon characters, some were flowers, some were abstract art. But every hole had been painted in painstaking detail.

“No way,” I breathed. “That was you?”

Nathan nodded and gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Me and my friends. We split up and each took a few holes to spray-paint. It was really funny at the time. We were amazed we got away with it. No one ever realized we’d done it, but my dad was certain he recognized my artwork. The cartoony characters.”