Grave Danger (32 page)

Clarissa wasn’t convinced. “So why are you really
here?” she queried with a knowing sigh.

Jackson looked to the television, watching the news
program and taking his time formulating a response. Clarissa took
his silence as a clue. Finding a seat in the recliner next to the
couch she waited patiently for him to come up with an answer, truth
or otherwise.

“
You know my grandmother is at the hospital.
There was some kind of attack on an S.S. member; not sure who. But
she went to visit.” He stuffed another snack cake in his
mouth.

“
I know.” She was amazed he stayed so fit with
the junk she was watching him stuff inside his mouth. But she
guessed he didn’t eat like this all the time. “Leah called me and
told me your grandmother went over there early this morning. But
that still doesn’t explain why you’re here. If you’re really sick,
why aren’t you home?”

Jackson reached for the bag of chips on the floor,
but Clarissa was quicker stealing them away in one swift movement.
He frowned at her as she sat back and opened the bag. Taking one,
she popped the salty treat into her mouth.

“
Stop stuffing your face and tell me what’s
going on.” Clarissa took another chip into her mouth. Jackson sure
had good taste in junk food, these were delicious. She was tempted
to eat the whole bag herself.

“
It’s nothing I can’t deal with on my own,” he
muttered. Reaching for another bag on the coffee table he pulled it
open, digging in to grab a handful of cheesy goodness.

They sat there for several more minutes, eating junk
food and watching the news. Clarissa didn’t know this young man
very well. But he was Leah’s friend and if he was struggling
inside. She wanted to help, be an impartial ear.

“
You have a banana on your head,” she told him
around a mouthful of chips.

Taking the banana from his head he threw it across
the room where it made a soft crash into the television before
falling on the hardwood floor in limp silence. “I hate them so much
right now.” Jackson crushed the bag in his hands, crushing the
delicate puffs into tiny crumbs. “They just don’t get that I’m not
like them. That I don’t want to be anything like them.”

He kicked the coffee table, coming up off the couch
to prowl about the family room. Jackson stalked back and forth
across the floor in front of Clarissa, for a minute not remembering
she was there.

“
Who are you talking about, Jackson?” she
asked quietly.

He kicked the coffee table again causing it to tilt
precariously on two legs for a second before settling down on all
feet. It wasn’t like him to get angry, but today felt like an
exception to the rule. He deserved to be pissed at the people who
were supposed to profess unconditional love for their only child.
However, their love came with a complimentary book of bylaws and
prerequisites; rules and requirements that Jackson couldn’t live up
to anymore.

Yesterday had been fine. Today everything had gone
to hell.

“
Those stupid jack-asses that call themselves
my parents,” he barked. Turning to look down at Clarissa in the
recliner, he saw one of the few people who probably understood
where he was coming from. She was different too. Leah had told him
about her before they’d gone out to the movies the other night,
saying that the Eidolon people were keeping a close eye on her. She
couldn’t go anywhere without one of them tailing her. She was an
oddity they couldn’t quite figure out and in his parent’s eyes so
was he.

“
You know what they said to me?” She gave him
one of those sympathetic head shakes. “They said they were tired of
all the paranormal nonsense I’ve been letting rot my mind. They
told me I should get into my head that all
this
is make-believe bullshit and that I need to
make some real decisions about my future.”

Clarissa could see the anguish in Jackson’s face. He
wanted more than anything to be an S.S. member. More than that, he
wanted his parents to understand that he was different from other
kids his age; that he would never be normal. His gifts were strong,
like his grandmother.

Maddy had made a comment to her before, saying that
Jackson’s parents preferred their own fast-paced and interesting
lives over paying attention to their growing son. They loved him;
they just didn’t get his eccentricities.

“
I’m sorry they feel that way, Jackson. But
you have to see this from their perspective. Your parents don’t get
our world. If they can’t see it or analyze it under their strict
parameters they’ve set for the world then it can’t possibly be
real.”

“
That’s not it, Clarissa.” He raked his hands
through his hair. “The problem with them is that they know it’s
real, they just don’t want to believe it. They think that if they
ignore it all then it can’t hurt them. And God forbid that I would
want to follow my crack-pot grandmother into that crazy secret
society of ghost freaks.”

Jackson went to sit on the couch, his head bent over
between his knees. “I see you, Clarissa,” he whispered. “I see them
all. I can’t change what I see or pretend they don’t exist. I can’t
just move away from it. As if going to a new town would make the
specters and other supernatural creatures go away. It won’t. You
people are all over the place. I won’t change into what they want
me to be and I refuse to ignore what is in my blood.”

“
So they want you to go away to school, hoping
your grandmother’s influence will wash away over time.” He nodded.
“Believe it or not, Jackson, you’re parents do love you. And can
you blame them from steering you away from a society whose members
are being murdered right and left?” He shook his head, no. “But
they’re not right about us or you. I wouldn’t mind if you joined
with the S.S. I can already see you’ve acquired some of your
grandmother’s talents.”

Jackson grinned down at the floor before reaching
his right hand out toward the squashed banana on the floor. It
brought itself to his hand like two magnets exerting a pull on each
other. He offered her the banana.

“
See, that’s what I’m talking about. You can’t
suppress that kind of gift. It would be wrong.” Clarissa took the
banana, it wasn’t too badly damaged. Peeling away the slightly
blackened skin she took a bite of it.

Jackson looked up, catching her eating the banana.
She’d been so comfortable eating real food in front of him. He’d
been surprised at first. The other night when she’d taken a sip of
Leah’s soda he’d thought he’d been seeing things. Ghosts couldn’t
interact with objects from the living world like that. It wasn’t
heard of.

“
Then why do you suppress yours,” he
questioned, seeing it caught her off guard. Pulling the banana away
from her mouth, she shrugged her shoulders. “What? You don’t know
or you’re not going to tell me.”

Clarissa glanced at the television set. It made her
wonder about something. “Do you think last night’s attack will be
covered on the news?”

“
No,” he said, following her line of vision to
the tiny television set. “The councilmember’s make it a point to
keep stories about us and you out of the papers and television
media coverage. They likely already paid out a hefty chunk to keep
the murders under wrap. There’s nothing worse for business in this
town than tourists fearing for their lives from supernatural
creatures.”

“
I guess you’re right. The media people would
turn it into some huge story on increase crime in the area. Then no
one would want to vacation here.”

“
And back to that whole, ‘You can’t suppress
your gifts’ statement,” Jackson interjected, cleverly bringing the
conversation back on point.

“
You’re not going to let me out of that one,
are you?” He shook his head, leaning back on the couch to watch her
closely. He was a very determined young man, she thought. Sometimes
that was a good quality, sometimes it didn’t work out so
well.

Jackson watched as Clarissa fidgeted with her
sleeve. Seeing her for the first time, he’d thought nothing of her.
She’d looked like any normal ghost, rather pale almost colorless
skin. They had a slightly translucent quality to their skin but
they were not without substance. You couldn’t see through them, but
you knew they weren’t exactly of this world.

Clarissa could be considered unassuming. That was
her disguise and that was what made her deadly. They wouldn’t see
her coming, because most would have already written her off as a
nice looking young woman. Jackson knew better, better than most. He
didn’t know what she was in the ghost world, but whatever she was
called it came with a hefty toll.

“
Your gifts are good. I already see that in
you,” she began. “You’d never hurt anybody or let someone else be
hurt by your actions.”

“
And you think your gifts aren’t good.” He
came to the conclusion easily. Clarissa was afraid of her own
gifts. Somewhere deep inside she believed that there was a measure
of evil, darkness.”

She shook her head in agreement. “My gifts aren’t
good, not for anybody. I can hurt people. And I don’t want to do
that.”

Jackson thought for a minute, putting her deadly
gifts in perspective. “What if you use your gifts against those
that deserved to have their lives ended? Wouldn’t that be a good
gift, saving innocent lives by getting rid of the bad apples?”

“
It’s not that simple.”

Jackson made a groan at that statement, rolling his
head back on the couch. “Why do people always use that as an excuse
to get out of dealing with their problems?”

Clarissa frowned, turning away to look at the books
along the shelf next to her.

His arms spread wide he assessed this troubled young
woman. Using the gifts Clarissa believed were good and helpful to
the world, he delved deep inside her inner soul looking for clues
to make sense of her. What he found made a mockery of his earlier
assumptions about her.

Clarissa felt that probing inside her, stronger than
when Richard had tried to do the same. This time she was aware what
was going on and thought to simply block him out. But a secret
voice inside her told her she needed to teach him not to try this
method of investigation again. With her face impassive and still
staring at the bookshelf, she held their connection, a line of
energy binding them together. With a swift tug on her end she
wrenched at his soul bringing it dangerously close to the
surface.

Jackson instantly felt the pull. That feeling as if
his muscles had completely relaxed and he could barely feel his
extremities, a light fog seemed to coat his entire senses until he
thought that he was barely holding on to his body by a thread. It
was a peaceful experience, one meant for daydreaming. And he knew,
having this knowing feeling, in that moment that if he let the
thread pull farther away he’d never want to return.

Clarissa let go, allowing Jackson’s soul to snap
back into his body like a taut rubber band that’s been cruelly
released. It reverberated throughout his system, raising his heart
rate and causing his eyes to tear up at the corners. His soul was
very flexible and not easily broken, but it still hurts a body when
someone messes around with it.

“
Shit,” Jackson expelled the crude word on a
breathy whisper. “Remind me again not to do that.” He touched his
sides, feeling them for injury. There weren’t any. As anyone who
knows, the torturing of the soul leaves no visible markings. While
the pain can become excruciating for the victim the physical
results, if there are any, can be written off as any other illness
or common diseases.

“
I told you, my gifts aren’t good.” Clarissa
replied after several seconds of watching Jackson catch his breath.
She bit her bottom lip, staring down at her hands, hands of
destruction. “My gifts are meant to destroy. It’s what I
am.”

“
I know. I felt it.” He brushed his hand over
his forehead, wiping at the sheen of sweat that had formed over the
smooth tanned skin. Bringing it away, he looked down to see that
mixed in with the clear liquid were the swirls of his own
blood.

“
And he knows, doesn’t he?” Jackson made the
statement all the while still looking at the evidence of her gifts
on his fingers.

“
What?” Clarissa couldn’t believe what she was
hearing from him. She had thought she’d extracted him from her
inner self before he could see too deeply or guess at what she had
to hide.

“
I saw him,” Jackson said. “I see him even
now, now that I know what I’m looking at. I don’t know who he is,
but I know he’s like you except reversed. He’s who you’re supposed
to hate. This man, who has given his energy to make you whole and I
see the evidence of his work reflected on your skin and in your
soul. He knows what you are and he knows what that
means.”

A flash of sympathy flashed across Jackson’s face as
he tilted his head and saw her for what she was. “You care for him
and you’re afraid that you’ll be forced to choose between keeping
him and doing what’s in your blood to do.” A bitter tinged chuckle
escaped his mouth.

“
And I thought I had issues, but you my friend
you win the eff’d up prize for today. Here,” he handed her a snack
cake from an open box on the coffee table. “You need this more than
I do.”

“
Thanks,” she said, taking the cream filled
cake. Opening the transparent wrapping she popped the whole cake in
her mouth. Talking around the food in her mouth she continued.
“We’re a pretty melodramatic pair, aren’t we? Sorry about that
thing I did, you got to be careful around me. I’m a little
dangerous at times.”