I'd Rather Not Be Dead (20 page)

“Nope.” He gives me a shrug. “I
told you there were monsters.”

“Right. Monsters that scare the
monsters.” I frown at him. “No one's acting scared.”

“Because it won't come in here.”
His hand waves about vaguely. “At least, it never has before. I
wouldn't suggest leaving though.”

“Because I won't come back to
tell you what I found?”

“Probably not.” The corners of
his mouth are twitching.

“It was just a sound effect,
wasn't it?”

His mouth stops twitching and
breaks into a massive grin. “That's my theory.”

I stare at him, watching his
eyes twinkle. Is he messing with me? “Why would someone want us to
think there's a monster out there if there isn't?”

“So we stay here.”

“But-”

Fray shakes his head. “This room
is safe. There's too many of us for The Spirit to gain a foothold.
But once you get away from the crowd...”

“It's like being on the edge of
the herd with lions in the grass.”

“Right.” He kicks his foot
against mine to draw my attention away from the walls of the cavern
and back to him. “And coming here without everyone else is like not
having a herd in the first place.”

I shiver.

There's a commotion near the
edge of the room and the music halts. Colleen looks to a figure
draped in a dramatic hooded cloak until he waves a hand and she
gestures her band to start up again.

The Shadow Lord.

My throat's tight as I force a
swallow.

“You want to get it over with?”
Fray asks, standing before I answer. He holds out a hand for me and
I take it gratefully.

Is this what Gretel felt like as
she walked with her brother through the woods?

Fray is steady, his hand warm
and comforting. I'm trembling. My mind tries frantically to
remember what it was I wanted to ask The Shadow Lord about. I know
I had questions. I have no idea what they were.

We join the line of people
waiting wordlessly to speak with The Shadow Lord. Fray rubs the
back of my hand with his thumb, trying to calm me down. I resist
the urge fling my arms around him and cling for dear life.

Far too quickly, the people in
front of us have gone up, leaving us next. Fray drops my hand and I
have to snap my jaws shut to stop from crying out at the
abandonment. His palm goes to my back, guides me forward.

“My Lord.” Fray bows before the
robed man. “May I present Drew Elizabeth McKinney?”

The figure nods.

Even standing right before the
man, I have no idea what he looks like. The cloak covers him
completely, its hood keeping his whole face hidden even though I'm
certain his features should be visible.

He reaches a hand toward me. He
didn't do that for the others. Am I supposed to shake it? Kiss it?
Put something in it?

He extends a finger and places
it on my forehead.

The phrase 'marked by death'
appears in my thoughts and even though nothing's been said, I feel
dismissed. Fray takes my hand again to lead me away, getting me
almost back to the door we came in from before shaking overtakes me
to the point I can't walk anymore. Big violent shudders pummel me,
making the trembling from before look static.

“It's alright. He has that
affect on people.” Fray's arms close around me and he holds me
tight. “You're fine.”

“I want to go home,” I
whimper.

“Of course, luv.”

With a clap of thunder, the
room, and everything else, vanishes.

My body is completely numb. My
sight is completely black. Only the ringing in my ears gives me
hope I haven't been plunged straight into The Spirit.

Slowly, vision and feeling
return. The thunder still echoes in my ears, but Fray's gone and
I'm in dimly lit room, facing a set of over-puffed curtains.

“We call to you, good spirit,” a
familiar voice intones. “Come to us this night of All Souls and
tell us what message you wish to send.”

Turning, I look around a
stranger's bedroom. There's a lot of pink lace and flowery frills,
like a room decorated by a six year old girl. On white walls,
candlelight flickers over posters of women posed with guitars. A
desk is cluttered with books and loose pieces of paper. And in the
middle of the room four figures bend over a ouija board.

Oh, yay. I've been summoned to a
séance.

Chapter Nineteen

“Do you feel that?” one of the
girls whispers over the thump of a distant bass. “It got cold.”

“Spirit?” My sister Rain looks
around the room with wide eyes. “Are you here?”

The girls all stare at the
planchette on the board between them. Each of them have a finger on
the little piece of wood.

“Spirit?” Rain asks again. “Can
you hear us?”

I lean over her shoulder and she
shivers, moving her gaze to look in my direction even though she
doesn't focus on me. I push the little pointer to where the the
word, “No,” is etched on the board.

“No?” one of Rain's friends
puzzles.

“Must be a sarcastic ghost,”
another figures.

“Or one of us,” the third
mutters.

“Spirit, what is your name?”
Rain asks.

I spell out McKinney.

One of the girls shrieks and
springs away from the board. The unbeliever rolls her eyes. And the
other one trades an excited look with Rain. “Is it your
granddad?”

Granddaddy McKinney died years
before Dad dragged us to Pine Ridge. I hardly remember him and
can't imagine that Rain does at all. “Are you my grandfather?” she
whispers.

No.

“Who are you?”

Why not tell the truth? She'll
get freaked out, she'll call the other me, and then they'll all
laugh about it and try to figure out which one of them was pushing
the planchette. D...R...E...W.

Rain shrieks.

The others stare at the board.
One of them tries to laugh in a nervous way. The cynical one says,
“I need a cigarette,” and leaves.

I didn't know Rain's friends
smoke.

It takes my sister three times
to manage to get her cell phone to dial mine. “Drew?”

I can only imagine what the
other me thinks.

“Is she alright?” one of the
girls asks.

“Are you okay, Drew?” Rain asks
the me on the phone. A horrible, sick feeling sloshes through my
insides at the sight of tears in her eyes. My shoulders slump in
guilt over my stupid little trick.

Rain'll be fine. Until I die and
then she'll be convinced she was warned and should have stopped it.
Dammit. I'm the worst sister ever. Poor Rain...

“I'm sorry, sweetie,” I tell
her, getting a little choked up myself. “I wasn't thinking. Like
usual.”

She's talking to TOM, trying to
downplay the panic that was in her voice when she called. I can't
blame her for not wanting to tell TOM what happened. The living me
never believed in ouija boards. She'd just make fun of the kid.

“I'm so sorry,” I say again.
Then I leave the room in a hurry, unable to stand watching her
freak out over her paranormal experience.

There's a lot of noise in the
hall and more when I get to the stairs. On the ground floor,
there's music and talking. About half of my school is packed into a
handful of rooms. I kind of expect Finn to be here, but if he is
he's hidden in the crowd. And there's no point in me staying
without him.

I slide through the partially
opened front door, then stop. On the porch, looking out across the
house's front yard toward the mountains and talking to Rain's
friend, stands Cooper Finnegan. Faint orange-tinged light from the
globe by the door hits his hair, dancing on the strands much as the
shadows of the night play on his face. He gives the cigarette
Rain's friend pulls out a disapproving look. “Yeah, yeah,” she says
with an eye roll. “They'll kill my lungs. But what else am I
supposed to do? Drink myself into a stupor? Kill my liver? Maybe
run over a few little kids?”

He gives her a wry smile. “I
take it things aren't working out too well with that girl.”

“No,” she grumbles, looking
disgusted. “She's straight.”

“Sorry,” Finn offers.
“Unrequited love's a bitch.”

“Too bad she isn't.” The kid
drags on her cigarette, reminding me I haven't had one since I
died. “Maybe then I wouldn't be so crazy about her.”

Finn shakes his head. “You'd
think that, wouldn't you?”

“Not your experience?”

“Not really.”

They look out, watching the
stars for a while. I consider interrupting, but Finn looks
relatively at peace and I'm loathe to interfere with that. So I
stay back, watching and waiting for a chance to slip past without
being noticed.

“What about that cheerleader?”
the girl asks after a while. “The one trying to mount you in the
hallway earlier. That's Rain's sister, isn't it?”

“Believe it or not.”

“I can't believe everyone thinks
it's the other one who's the freak,” the girl states. “That
Bobbi... No offense, but I don't think she's all there.” The girl
taps her hair with her hand, careful not to touch the lit bit of
the cigarette to any of it.

Finn makes a soft harrumph.
“Explains her interest in me.”

His companion flicks some ashes
toward him. “Don't dig for compliments. It's not attractive.”

He laughs at her. “Like I had a
shot with you anyway. You're a lesbian.”

“True.” She gives him a grin.
“Doesn't mean you couldn't at least try though.”

“Many apologies.”

Leaning over the railing, Finn
stares at something while the girl continues to smoke. “What are
you hiding from?” she asks.

He doesn't answer her.

“Bobbi?” she guesses, her eyes
on him while she drags on the cigarette. “She is hot, if you can
get past the Stepford qualities.”

“Never said she wasn't,” Finn
admits, not happily.

“Just not your type?” The girl
tilts her head. “What is then? Not hot?”

He takes a while to answer her,
then says, so softly I'm not certain I hear it, “Someone who'd
never wear a sweater set.”

The girl laughs and jams the end
of her cigarette against the rail, grinding out the fire. “Silly
boy.” She flicks the butt out into the grass. “It doesn't matter
what they're wearing. You're just going to take it off.”

She kisses his cheek, then goes
back inside while I huddle as far into the shadows as I can
get.

Finn goes back to whatever it is
he's doing out here all by himself. Thinking, I assume.

He pulls out his phone and
toggles it on. Its display casts a glow on his face, showing me
things the low wattage porch light didn't. He doesn't look
good.

Sliding the phone back into his
pocket, he turns his attention outward again and mutters, “Sun set
hours ago.”

My hand goes to the side of the
house, holding me steady. He's out here worrying about me.

Gathering my courage, I move
toward him. “Finn?”

His body goes still, then he
turns. “You okay?” he asks, his voice a strange combination of
emotions.

“Yeah,” I answer.

“Everything went alright?” His
tone is cooling down, deadening.

“I guess.” He straightens and
watches me approach. “I sort of lost some time.”

His jaw tight, he nods. “Time
flies and all.” He moves around me, throws the door all the way
open while I turn around, confused.

“What's wrong?” I ask.

His eyes flicker to me, but he
continues his plunge into the throng in the house.

“Why are you mad at me?” The
door shuts through me and I pick up my pace.

Ignoring me, Finn makes a
beeline for the refreshments. There's a keg with a hand pump
sitting next to the table, one of his teammates sitting by it and
pulling draft. Finn grabs a beer from him and chugs it, then holds
his red plastic cup out for more in less time than it takes the guy
to serve the next person. The keg master laughs cheerfully as he
takes the cup and refills it, growing more amused when the process
is repeated two more times.

“What do you think you're
doing?” I ask.

The fifth beer, he doesn't down.
He takes it and walks off.

“Finn!”

“I was worried about you,” he
mutters into the rim of the cup, taking a sip afterwards.

“Well, I'm sorry. It's not my
fault.”

“Of course not.” He swallows
about half the beer.

“I didn't have a choice about
going, I told you that.” Or Fray told him that, but whatever.

He narrows a glare on me. The
alcohol hasn't hit him yet, so it's a steady and sharp glare. “You
promised to be back by dark.”

“Okay... First off, you're not
my dad.” I get up close so my snarling will be more effective. “And
secondly, when I said I lost time, I didn't mean I lost track of
time. I meant I literally lost time. As in, I was gone an hour
tops. Not...” My eyes seek out a clock. “It's eight o'clock? I lost
seven hours?”

I look back to Finn, but he's
back by the keg.

“Idiot!” I yell at him.

Storming across the room, I
knock the cup out of his hand as he's drinking his sixth beer in
under five minutes.

“Beer foul!” someone yells.

“Alcohol abuse!” chimes someone
else.

The guy manning the keg laughs.
“You need to be cut off?”

I answer with a heartfelt,
“Yes!” Normally, I have no trouble with a few beers. But drinking
because you're emotional is stupid.

“I do have a test tomorrow
morning.” Finn gives the guy a sheepish smile and picks up the
empty cup. He tosses it in the garbage on his way to the door.

“Finn!” Without warning, Bobbi
materializes in his path, wearing a demon costume that's little
more than two red scarves and some horns. “You're not leaving, are
you?”

“Well, I was...” His eyes take
their time looking at the vast amounts of skin she's showing.

She notices the scrutiny and
changes stance to grant him a better view. With a coy smile, she
gives her hair a little toss. “I was just wandering if you could
give me a ride to Blue Ridge Saturday.”