Shimmer (Riley Bloom #2)(9)
Saw what lay behind the petite and pretty facade.
Though I was the only one who saw it.
The reveal was meant solely for me.
Bodhi continued to see what he’d always seen, which was something else entirely.
And before I could call out to him, before I could catch up or warn him in some way, he was gone. Leaving me with no choice but to just stand there and watch as she lifted one delicate finger, and smiled as she tapped Bodhi’s shoulder.
Only once.
Light and quick.
But that’s all it took for the barrier to slam down all around him.
Slam down around—everything.
Leaving me with nothing but the wail of Buttercup’s plaintive howls, the fading whisper of Bodhi’s yearning pleas, and the horrible truth of what really just happened before me.
Rebecca.
Horrible, horrid, ghost-girl Rebecca.
With her glowing-eyed hellhound beside her—had tricked both my guide and my dog and stolen them from me.
7
I stood there, gaping at a space that looked nothing like it had just a moment ago—nothing like the space I’d just vacated.
Other than a few of the outlying trees and rocks and patchy clumps of dying sea grass, the rest of it, the inside bits, were now encased in a sort of glimmering glow.
It shimmered.
Not unlike the shimmer I saw before—the shimmer that had turned from a small bouncing ball of light into Rebecca the over-accessorized, mean little ghost girl.
Only this shimmer was bigger.
Much bigger.
Like a big, shiny bubble that reached its way around until it had nearly encased the entire graveyard. The bottom part blending flush with the earth, while the walls and sides were so smooth and round and glossy, it was nearly impossible to look without squinting.
Like a mirror, it reflected everything outside of it, while obscuring the secrets inside.
Although I couldn’t see past my own glaring reflection, I knew my guide and my dog were both trapped in the same way I’d been. And, if their experience was anything like mine—well, then they were both about to find themselves reliving their own personal version of hell.
I squinched my eyes till they were nearly shut and continued to stare at the bubble, searching my brain for answers, clues, anything Bodhi might’ve mentioned about a pretty, dark-haired girl named Nicole, but came up empty.
The truth was, I didn’t know much about Bodhi’s time on the earth plane. Aside from when and how he’d died, aside from his claim that he was on his way to being a professional skateboarder, I was ashamed to admit I didn’t know much of anything.
I knew nothing about where he came from, nothing about where he lived, who his parents were, his friends, if he had any siblings, and if he ever really missed his old life as much as I sometimes missed mine.
Though, I guess the amount of longing he held in his voice as he called out her name pretty much answered that last part.
He did miss her. A lot. That much was clear. But what I didn’t know was why he missed her—who she was—what she might’ve meant to him.
I slumped down to the ground and continued to squint at the shiny globe before me. Wavering between feelings of deep-seated shame at being so self-centered I’d never even bothered to learn my guide’s personal history—never even showed the slightest bit of interest in learning—and wondering just what it was I could do to break them out of that place.
How I could free them from Rebecca’s world of pain.
What my next move might logically be.
The longer I pondered, the worse it got, as I allowed my imagination to take over. Running amok with visions of Bodhi undergoing all manner of humiliation and emotional torture (our being dead may have left us well past the point of physical torture, but it did nothing to boost our immunity against things like fear and dread, and other forms of self-induced psychological warfare), while Buttercup … well, I couldn’t imagine him ever experiencing a bad day in what had amounted to an overly cushy, almost ridiculously indulgent, well-fed, well-cared-for, former life. But knowing Rebecca, she’d dig up something, and I had no doubt it would involve her laser-gazed, razor-toothed Hell Beast companion.
Call it intuition, call it what you will: Even though I had no sure way of knowing what might’ve been going on in there, I knew it was wrong.
Terribly, tragically wrong.
I also knew that I’d brought it on.
If I hadn’t decided to go snooping around, if I hadn’t decided to go against Bodhi’s warnings and track down that stupid Snarly Yow, none of us would be in this predicament now.
I’d decided to exercise my free will by sticking my stubby nose where it clearly didn’t belong.
And now my guide and my dog were both trapped as a result.
I felt awful, guilty, and, truth be told, more than a little worried about how all of this would go over with the Council. I had no idea how they’d punish me, though I’d no doubt they would. And while Bodhi had tried to warn me against it, tried to warn me against doing the very thing I was so determined to do, I’d failed to listen. Making me solely responsible for getting us into this mess, which also made me solely responsible for getting us out.
But as worried as I was about what I might face once I returned to the Here & Now, at that moment, I had to push it aside for more pressing concerns. My guide and my dog were trapped, and I could no longer allow myself to sit there and do nothing about it. So I sprang to my feet, rushed toward that gleaming bubble, and hurled my body against it. Pounding my fists into the sides, railing at it with all of my might—but it was no use.