Wings to the Kingdom (Eden Moore 2)

“From a moral perspective, sure. But from a personal standpoint, it sucks—and I want it to stop. Or, at the very least, I’d like to keep it at a slow trickle. You don’t…” I paused to reconsider my phrasing. “You should see their faces. There’s this split second when they figure out all at once that I’m not going to tell them what they want to hear. ”

I swallowed, and stuffed the coffee stirrer into my mouth, pinching it between my teeth. “And you realize, don’t you, that if I were to get mixed up with these high-profile spook hunters, it would only get worse. ”

“I get it. A whole lot worse, maybe. ”

“Maybe. ” We both sat quietly for a minute, him fussing with the paper’s corner and me nibbling the small brown straw down to a frayed, flattened bit of trash. “Sometimes I think maybe I ought to leave, and go someplace where people don’t know about me at all. It might be easier. Or better. I don’t know. ”

He reached around the table and patted at my knee. “Aw, don’t say that. The brain-drain around here is bad enough; we don’t need all the beauty leaving the valley, too. But you know, you wouldn’t have to get involved with those two old crazies if you didn’t want to. You could still poke around a little, see what’s up for yourself. ”

“Or for you?”

“Or for me, sure. You’re always welcome to go exploring for me. I’d love to sneak on out there myself, but these days…” He stopped and caught himself before the words went slow or sad. He laughed instead, slapping at the arm of his chair. “These days I’d need one hell of an extension cord, wouldn’t I?”

“A cord, or a jet pack strapped to the back of that thing. You could run down Old Green Eyes and ask him yourself what’s going on out there.

”

He laughed harder then, and Cowboy’s tail thumped an optimistic beat against my shin. “A jet pack! And maybe a couple of pairs of roller skates for Cowboy so I could pull him along behind me—but then again, he’d probably just ride in my lap like a big baby. You should’ve seen him at the Riverbend fireworks this year. He spent the whole thing with his nose buried under my arm. Oh, hang on—I’ve run dry. Let me grab a refill. ” He took his foam cup in one hand and gripped the wheelchair’s joystick with the other and swiveled himself away from me.

Despite the fact that Karl’s destination was less than six feet away, Cowboy took it upon himself to rise and dash after him.

While Karl busied himself at the counter, pumping on the air pots, I fiddled with the newspaper. He was right, and it was a damn good story.

I checked the last paragraph again and failed to see any mention of Tripp and Dana Marshall, so there was still hope that Karl’s sources had been incorrect on that final point. I didn’t have a solid reason to dislike the Marshalls so hard sight unseen, but that didn’t stop me. I hated the thought of them coming to Chattanooga, bringing their cameras and spotlights and publicity crews.

Interacting with ghosts was something to be done quietly, and in private if possible—or so I liked to think. As awkwardly as I sometimes handled my strange abilities, I tried to take them seriously; and it made me uncomfortable to watch others treat my poorly guarded secret like a well-paying parlor trick.

Then again, my reservations may have been as simple as an old-fashioned distrust of outsiders. But if rumor proved true and they were on their way, I would get my chance to see if my suspicion was warranted.

3

Home Sweet

“Professional jealousy, that’s what it is,” Dave joked.

“I beg your pardon?”

My uncle turned up the volume on the television, that we might better hear the news. It was all over the local affiliates, which was funny for an investigation that was ostensibly hush-hush. A skinny blond anchorwoman repeated the Marshalls’ vow to “get to the bottom of things. ”

“Disdain, perhaps—but never jealousy,” I corrected. “It’s revolting, the way they capitalize on things like this. ”

“Revolting?” Lulu tapped me with her hip as she squeezed by, carrying a tray of nachos. She set the heaping snacks on the coffee table and went back towards the kitchen. “That’s a strong word for it. They’re some kind of scientists, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, and I’m Big Bird. ”

Lu took a bite of a chip loaded with beans and jalapeños, chewed it, and swallowed without flinching. “I don’t know. You might be. I’m surprised at you, really. I’d think you might be warm to the idea of having someone else in town for the crazies to talk at. For that matter, it might do you good to have someone to talk at. ”

“Speaking of being talked at, it happened again today. ” I reached past her to pick up a handful of chips that seemed mostly devoid of hot peppers, and I took a nibble. I winced, even though only the barest trace of pepper juice hit my tongue.

I might have said more about it—I might have told them about Gary and the tooth—but Dave flashed me a look that made me think better of it. He rose and headed towards the kitchen, and I followed him.

He opened the refrigerator door and stood inside the patch of dim light and cold air. “Something else happened again today too,” he said quietly, and not happily.

“Dare I ask?”

“Do you have to?”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. It was one of those moments where I didn’t know what I’d done to perturb him, and I didn’t want to start confessing to things until he gave me a hint. I cycled through a mental checklist of things he might scold me for, but I couldn’t come up with anything he may have caught me doing.