us shades?”
Posture stiff, lips a tight line, Royal waited near the rental, looking across the fields at the rising Downs. I knew a vexed demon when I saw one. “I gotta go,” I told Carrie as I swung around.
“Please, don’t be angry.”
I sighed and stopped with my back to her. “I’m not angry.”
“I’m so glad!” she said perkily. “Let’s go then, shall we?”
She definitely shared one thing with Jack and Mel: mood swings. Shades are temperamental, up one moment, down the next, like they are manic depressives and off their meds.
I started off. “You are not coming with us.”
“How are you going to stop me,” she said at my elbow. “Have some magical, spirit-banishing powers, do you?”
I put on a spurt of speed.
“Won’t work!” she declared gaily. “I have you now.”
I stopped again. I had to get rid of her before we got in the car. Royal would not appreciate an extra passenger.
“So you see a person’s aura and. . . .”
“I feel it, like a blanket.”
“Okay. You grab hold of it?”
“I’m very careful. I wouldn’t want to take chunks out of an aura.” She paused, then continued, “I wonder if I could? I’ve never clutched for fear I’d harm someone, I just touch.” Her gaze passed over me as she said thoughtfully, “Adhere. I adhere to an aura.”
“You have to be real close to a person?”
She briefly shook her head. “An aura radiates outward. I can be as far away as, oh, three or four feet.”
“Should we do this tomorrow?” Royal asked.
“Get in the car!” I called, and ran the last few yards, my shoes flipping gravel.
Royal dived in the car and started the engine in a heartbeat. He leaned and popped open the passenger door as I got there. I fell in, slammed the door and the car peeled out of the car park.
“Is that your idea of a workout?” Carrie said from the backseat.
Drat. She could go where she wanted.
How come? But did there have to be a reason? I once thought all shades followed the same rules, but Lindy Marchant leaving her place of death to find me destroyed that notion. I had discovered that as in life, shades were individuals in death, with their own quirks and abilities.
She was electrocuted - did a powerful electrical charge do something to her spirit?
Royal interrupted my musing. “So your new friend can travel beyond the place of her death.”
Uh oh . I laid my hand on the back of his. “She kind of attaches herself to living people. I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
No. So why did I feel responsible? And guilty. And apologetic. I peeked at his face in profile. “I’m glad you understand.”
His voice came out flat. “I try.”
Oof! He was annoyed. I imagined pulling in a deep breath, easing it out slowly so my voice did not come out tight. “Thank you.”
He turned his hand to hold mine and gently pressed my fingers. It made my struggle with the alien concept of being reasonable worth the effort.
Until I met Royal, I blamed my broken relationships on my interaction with shades, but they were an excuse. In truth, opening up to another person scared the daylights out of me. I would not risk my feelings if it meant they could shatter. What if I couldn’t pick up the pieces and put me back together again? So I told myself a relationship could never work while I had to lie about my ghostly friends and acquaintances, and either dumped the guy or contrived for him to dump me. But Royal already knew what I saw, what I did. I didn’t have to lie, or pretend to be other than what I am. I no longer had an excuse.
Still, being with me and my unseen pals is a challenge for any sane person and I understand Royal’s point of view. My interaction with Jack and Mel bothers him most. We make a party of three from which he is excluded. I try to put myself in his position - how would I feel if he regularly talked to people I neither saw nor heard? I’m sure it would wear on me. He tolerates it for my sake, but I can’t blame
Posture stiff, lips a tight line, Royal waited near the rental, looking across the fields at the rising Downs. I knew a vexed demon when I saw one. “I gotta go,” I told Carrie as I swung around.
“Please, don’t be angry.”
I sighed and stopped with my back to her. “I’m not angry.”
“I’m so glad!” she said perkily. “Let’s go then, shall we?”
She definitely shared one thing with Jack and Mel: mood swings. Shades are temperamental, up one moment, down the next, like they are manic depressives and off their meds.
I started off. “You are not coming with us.”
“How are you going to stop me,” she said at my elbow. “Have some magical, spirit-banishing powers, do you?”
I put on a spurt of speed.
“Won’t work!” she declared gaily. “I have you now.”
I stopped again. I had to get rid of her before we got in the car. Royal would not appreciate an extra passenger.
“So you see a person’s aura and. . . .”
“I feel it, like a blanket.”
“Okay. You grab hold of it?”
“I’m very careful. I wouldn’t want to take chunks out of an aura.” She paused, then continued, “I wonder if I could? I’ve never clutched for fear I’d harm someone, I just touch.” Her gaze passed over me as she said thoughtfully, “Adhere. I adhere to an aura.”
“You have to be real close to a person?”
She briefly shook her head. “An aura radiates outward. I can be as far away as, oh, three or four feet.”
“Should we do this tomorrow?” Royal asked.
“Get in the car!” I called, and ran the last few yards, my shoes flipping gravel.
Royal dived in the car and started the engine in a heartbeat. He leaned and popped open the passenger door as I got there. I fell in, slammed the door and the car peeled out of the car park.
“Is that your idea of a workout?” Carrie said from the backseat.
Drat. She could go where she wanted.
How come? But did there have to be a reason? I once thought all shades followed the same rules, but Lindy Marchant leaving her place of death to find me destroyed that notion. I had discovered that as in life, shades were individuals in death, with their own quirks and abilities.
She was electrocuted - did a powerful electrical charge do something to her spirit?
Royal interrupted my musing. “So your new friend can travel beyond the place of her death.”
Uh oh . I laid my hand on the back of his. “She kind of attaches herself to living people. I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
No. So why did I feel responsible? And guilty. And apologetic. I peeked at his face in profile. “I’m glad you understand.”
His voice came out flat. “I try.”
Oof! He was annoyed. I imagined pulling in a deep breath, easing it out slowly so my voice did not come out tight. “Thank you.”
He turned his hand to hold mine and gently pressed my fingers. It made my struggle with the alien concept of being reasonable worth the effort.
Until I met Royal, I blamed my broken relationships on my interaction with shades, but they were an excuse. In truth, opening up to another person scared the daylights out of me. I would not risk my feelings if it meant they could shatter. What if I couldn’t pick up the pieces and put me back together again? So I told myself a relationship could never work while I had to lie about my ghostly friends and acquaintances, and either dumped the guy or contrived for him to dump me. But Royal already knew what I saw, what I did. I didn’t have to lie, or pretend to be other than what I am. I no longer had an excuse.
Still, being with me and my unseen pals is a challenge for any sane person and I understand Royal’s point of view. My interaction with Jack and Mel bothers him most. We make a party of three from which he is excluded. I try to put myself in his position - how would I feel if he regularly talked to people I neither saw nor heard? I’m sure it would wear on me. He tolerates it for my sake, but I can’t blame
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