Dark and Shallow Lies(28)

I want to scream, but I only gag on my own tongue as I scramble to my feet. There’s no air in the shed. I stand there for a long time with the little silver medal lying on the floor in my flashlight beam. Like I’m hitting it with a spotlight.

Finally, I force myself to pick it up. I choke back vomit as I slip it into my pocket and step out on to the boardwalk. I take a few steps toward the back door.

There’s a flash of lightning. The low rumble of thunder. Clouds roll fast across the black sky, and Evie’s wind chimes cry into the night.

They tell me that I’m not alone. Out here in the dark. Something is moving through the cypress trees. Whispering through the tall grass.

I feel it coming closer.

Breathing.

And waiting.

Watching me.

I try to move toward the kitchen door. Just a few feet away.

But I can’t make my feet work.

Another flash of lightning.

Night becomes day, and I see him clear.

Zale stands in the open as the storm gathers around him. He’s barefoot and shirtless. And his blond hair is blowing in the wind.

When he raises his arms to the sky, more jagged lightning splits the dark in half. Electricity surges through me. My whole body tingles with its power.

He’s at least fifty yards away. But somehow I hear him whisper my name.

And it sounds like a storm on the ocean.





There’s a huge clap of thunder. Loud enough to shake the boardwalk under my feet. And the next thing I know, Honey is grabbing my hands and pulling me into the brightly lit kitchen. As she closes the door behind us, rain comes in huge pounding drops. Thunder rattles the windows, and lightning explodes across the bayou like artillery fire. Sweet-N- Low ducks for cover under a stool.

“Grey.” Honey takes my face in her hands. “What were you doing out there in this weather?” I’m shaking too hard to answer. “You know better than that.”

My great-great-grandfather was electrocuted. He’d sought shelter from a storm in the open doorway of an unlocked church, but the thunderbolt found him anyway.

Lightning got a taste for our family then.

It hunts us, Honey says. So we have to be extra careful.

She takes off her robe and drapes it around my shoulders, then she parks me in a chair at the little kitchen table while she makes me a cup of herbal tea. I take the steaming mug, and Honey sits down across from me with one of her own.

After a few sips of chamomile and lemon, I’m finally able to make my voice work.

“Did you see him?”

Honey gives me a funny look. “See who, Sugar Bee?”

“I thought I saw someone. In the dark.”

She gets up and goes to the window, then peers out into the night and comes back to the table, shaking her head. “I can’t imagine anyone would be out and about with a storm like this comin’ on.”

For a few minutes, Honey just sits across from me in her nightgown, watching me sip my tea. Finally she says, “Troubles are always heavier when you carry them alone, Grey.”

I don’t meet her eyes. I’m busy counting the tiny pink flowers on the white tablecloth.

She sighs. “Maybe it’s too hard on you, being here this summer.”

I jerk my head up. “No. I need to be here.”

“Then you need to be honest with me.” Honey’s voice is firm. But also familiar and warm. Like the old pink robe draped around my shoulders. “You’ve been seeing Elora, haven’t you?”

It seems pointless to keep lying, so I nod.

Honey takes a deep breath and leans back in her chair. But she doesn’t look surprised.

“Tell me about it,” she says. And suddenly, I want to.

“It’s not really that I’m seeing her. More like I am her.” I struggle for the right words to explain it. “Like I’m seeing what she saw that night. But it’s just bits and pieces. I can’t make any sense of it.”

“How long has this been going on?” Honey asks, and I shrug.

“A little while.”

“Since you got here?”

I shake my head. “It started before that.”

“Oh, Grey.” Honey reaches for my hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t sure, I guess. And I didn’t want it to be real. I was hoping it would go away.”

Honey nods like she understands. “Clairvoyance. The ability to see beyond eyesight. Your great-grandmother was clairvoyant. Sometimes she couldn’t say exactly whether she saw things or just felt them clear enough that it was like she saw them.”

“Is that how it is for you, too?” I ask.

“No.” Honey shakes her head. “I’m a medium, not a see-er. I relay information from those who have crossed over. That’s all I can do. I only know what the spirits choose to share with me. But clairvoyants are different. They just know things – about the past or the future – all on their own.”

The rain beats down on the roof, and thunder rumbles long and low.

“I don’t want to know things.”

“You can ignore it, but that won’t make it stop.” Honey takes a sip of her tea. “Our gifts can be heavy burdens to bear.”

“Seems more like a curse than a gift,” I mumble.