Her Song in His Heart (The Ghost Bird Series #14) Page 2

  Luke rolled out of the closet and starfished onto the floor, letting out a huge sigh. “Let’s just go. You can stay with me for a month until the sale is final.”

  “I know,” Gabriel said. He leaned back until the back of his head rested against the wall, and he gazed up to the ceiling. “I’m just a little worried about Pam. What happens when I leave? He’s going to turn all that anger onto her.”

  Luke rose slowly off the floor. He was wearing white-washed jeans, white flip-flops and a white dress shirt, short sleeve, with half the buttons undone. He collected a backpack off the bed and returned to the closet, shoving random items into the bag as if packing. “Then we go talk to Mr. Blackbourne.”

  Gabriel agreed with him, although he didn’t say so. He’d meant to do it sooner, but he’d been hoping to scare off what’s-his-face himself. Hadn’t worked yet. The guy barely worked and just mooched off of Pam.

  Pam deserved someone better if she wanted a relationship.

  He hated the thought of leaving her defenseless. He knew where this was heading. If Gabriel wasn’t going to be around, and his tactics weren’t working, then he needed the extra hand. “I just need to be sure I can be ready. Have to go help Sang find her birth certificate, if she has one. We’ll probably go bright and early in the morning.”

  “I have to meet North, I think. I forget what he said.” Luke finished packing. Most of it was socks and underwear and about twenty-seven bottles of various scents leftover from a cologne making kit. “Wanna take the moped? I like that thing. Drop me off at my house?”

  Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “How did you get here?”

  “North dropped me off. I texted from the closet that we’d take the moped. I’d rather do that today than have him turn back. If we go with him, we gotta go to the garage, and that place is so boring.”

  Gabriel chuckled as Luke scrambled out the window of the bedroom and followed behind.

  One of these days, he’d be able to stop climbing out of windows to escape.

  She Was a Silent Girl, Way Too Beautiful and Way Too Alone

  Sang

  Lily’s house was dim. Lights glowed from side table lamps only. Dark clouds formed outside as a storm approached.

  The house was surrounded by miles of forests. With the storm, it appeared as if the sun had gone down already, instead of being closer to noon.

  Liam had let me in, and I waited alone in the living room. Outside, Kota sat in his car taking a phone call that he didn’t want to risk someone overhearing. Lily was in her office on a video call with a client, so I wasn’t able to go in yet.

  The soft pair of jeans I was wearing were probably the most expensive jeans I’d ever had on, some brand name I couldn’t remember, but they’d been a gift from Gabriel. I felt the material with my fingers. My cheeks flushed thinking about how thoughtful he was, how all the guys were. Wishing I could just go hang out with them instead of being here.

  Not that here was bad. It was just some days, I really wanted to just relax, to stop thinking about Volto or the school or my stepmom and dad and their divorce.

  A break. A short one. The world felt like it consisted of all our troubles, and there had to be more to life than problems.

  I was just about to check my phone for the umpteenth time, maybe play a game and not just stare into the abyss of Lily’s décor, when the library office door opened.

  Lily stepped out. She wore a braid in her hair, and the braid hung off the front of her shoulder, thick and blond. She dressed in comfortable black slacks and a loose-fitting maroon top where the lower hem hung down below her hips.

  After a short greeting, I followed Lily into the library she used as her office. The walls had built-in bookshelves and there was a desk along with two couches facing each other.

  I sat in the same spot I did the handful of times I’d been to visit with her before, at one end of a couch near the armrest, closest to the door. “Kota’s in the car,” I said. He’d been in with me a few times, helping me to bring out subjects to talk about when I’d been too timid to talk with Lily before.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Lily. I often felt blocked around her, my mind blank, not knowing what to say. Kota being around helped a lot. Mostly, we worked on why I felt intimidated by women in general and worked through the anxiety that caused me to faint from a rushed panic attack when splashed with water in my face, like a shower. I’d been slowly working it out so that a short shower was not as much of a problem, especially during times when we were under low stress. I still washed my hair in the sink. During moments of high stress, I avoided a shower, as it triggered the anxiety.

  But at least now I knew. Slow progress.

  I hadn’t realized it was common enough and fixable. Lily made it seem like it was just a matter of training, like studying for a test. I got sudden panic moments and my body shut down quickly, and Lily helped me to realize when it was happening and to change my mindset or take a step back if needed.

  “Do you prefer we wait until he comes in?” she asked me.

  I shrugged. I actually had something else to talk to her about this time. “I had questions more than anything.”

  “Go ahead.”

  I found myself temporarily holding back as I considered restructuring what I wanted to say. It was a question I meant to ask the guys, but when I thought about it, they might not know either.

  She would.

  I glanced around the room a little. It was easier than looking directly at her face. “Can you tell me... what a ghost bird is?”

  She waited as if she expected more to the question. When I didn’t continue, she said, “In general?”

  “I mean, no one told me what they do. Just what was required to be a ghost bird was to have no public record, no identification, and basically not to appear to exist anywhere. I don’t know why that’s important.”

  Lily titled her head and her eyes widened. “Did we forget to mention?” She chuckled slightly. “You know, it took me a year into my trying to become a member before I even thought to ask the question.”

  “Am I not supposed to?”

  “Some take the trust the Academy line a little too seriously,” she said. “I did at first. We’re taught not to question authority as kids, so it’s hard to adjust. Over time, you learn that trusting your family also means trusting them with your questions and that they’ll tell you if they know or if they can. Especially as a kid juggling school and parents and then the Academy on top of that. We are only human, and we’re not expected to know everything. We can ask at will. The trust part also works when we say we can’t tell you. There’s probably a good reason for that then. But you can always ask.” She leaned forward, pressing a palm over her heart. “A ghost bird, like myself, has a chance to pick some of the most complicated but most impactful types of work the Academy attempts.”

  I held my breath, wanting to hear all of this.

  She shifted back and forth, gazing around the library. “There are certain areas where we will ask you to go, but if you have any sort of background, they can exploit you. They’ll bring up family, or even go so far as to contact them, harass them. They’ll use them as a tool against you. For you to be stronger, to not fear when entering these areas, we feed them false information. And it’s bad if you have any contradictory information about yourself floating around.”

  “But... who are they?” I asked.

  She adjusted her lower jaw as she considered the question. “Mostly cults, or cult-like organizations, where they have some power and authorities have no reason to go in and see what’s going on. Sometimes it’s foster homes with bad people involved. Certain rehabilitation schools that simply terrorize kids and keep them confined, sometimes well past the age of eighteen when they should be released.” She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “It’s hard work. And we’ll never send you alone. But once you’ve done the work and get out, you don’t want them to be able to trace you at all either. And it’s getting much harder to locate such a person that has a clean background.”

  “Because my parents didn’t have a real birth certificate for me,” I said.

  “Right. Also, the internet, cell phones, and so on. Kids get these very young. That’s good usually. It’s a communication line and great for emergencies, but it’s limiting for what we get involved in. And most of the time it’s discouraged within the Academy to utilize social media, because it can be a hinderance. If you’re trying to pass yourself off as an expert, you don’t want anyone searching your face and finding you and anything to discredit you.”

  “It does sound complicated,” I said.

  She continued, “You have a cell phone, but you don’t use your real name and information for signing up for anything. Most kids today aren’t taught to do that. Since you had such limited access, you never signed up for social media and don’t have a history online to seek out and exploit. You’ll notice most Academy members don’t use social media with their real names or photos when possible. They’re free to, but it can limit some tasks we send them on. Most choose to keep false ID accounts with fake images for researching only.”

  Cults. Rehabilitation schools. My father had thought to send me to one of those schools. I tried to imagine but the whole thing seemed so daunting. “How do I... what would I do? With the cults?”

  “We try to get people out, especially teenagers or children, who usually have no choice but to do what parents tell them to do. Which is tricky because the laws basically write off children as non-human to make such choices for themselves until after an age. And even then, at eighteen, many feel trapped because sometimes a cult is all the person has known.”

  She motioned to me with a hand, and I leaned forward, eager to hear more.

  She spoke softer now, as if
this was a trade secret, just between two ghost birds. “Your job... well my job was to get a few people on my side, and say just the right things, guided by experts, let them know they had support and the choice to leave if they wish. And when they do, we are on the other side of those gates waiting for them. Sometimes, all we get are the kids. And we take care of them.”

  “Like... to live with Mr. Buble?”

  Her smile warmed then in a strange way that was a little different than before. “Some. Yes. He’s one of the best at assisting with deprogramming young children from the cult mentality. And sometimes we do get the family out, not just the children. And we provide safe havens for them so they can rejoin society but stay off the radar from the cults who would try to threaten them to come back.”

  At that moment, there was a knock at the library door, and Kota poked his head in. “Are we ready?”

  “Yes,” I said. I’d gotten the gist. I’d witnessed many of the things the Academy did now, and what she said made sense. It was a little overwhelming to think I’d be a part of it in some way. I was also a little nervous about what would happen to me.

  Trusting the Academy and knowing what I knew now, I felt they wouldn’t put me into any danger we couldn’t get out of.

  Lily motioned to the spot on the couch where Kota usually sat beside me. “I was just telling her about what a ghost bird actually does. Apparently, we forgot to mention.”

  “Oh,” he said. He passed me and sat heavily on the couch. Kota wore a green sweater on top of a white shirt, tie and a nice pair of jeans. His dark glasses were still a little foggy at the edges after having come from out of the cold into the warmer indoors. “Did we figure it out?”

  “Yes,” I said, feeling more comfortable with him here. I released tension in my leg, and it brushed against his a little. Feeling him next to me was comforting. “There’s a lot to be done.”

  Lily scratched absently at a spot on her elbow. “It might sound complicated, but we’ve built a great system. Getting to where we’re in the clear with you to do things like this, this is the hardest part.” She pointed a forefinger at her knee. “Getting you free from your past, getting you mentally and physically ready for the road ahead, and ensuring you’re happy. That’s the first step.”

  “What about becoming a member?” I asked.

  “That’s the majority of it,” she said. “Becoming a member is getting you into that safe place. Where you’re able to ‘pay it forward,’ and we calculate it by a point system, in a way. When you can pay it forward instead of paying us back, that’s the deciding factor. When you’re able to do this, it proves to us, and yourself, you’re capable to great things.”

  I was still digesting what she was saying when Kota shifted a little, a reaction I was getting used to when they were getting a message in. He checked his phone. “It’s a busy day today.”

  “So let’s keep it short so you two can get back to it,” Lily said.

  They continued to talk about something else, but I was barely listening to any of it. I didn’t mean to space out.

  I was dreaming of what it would be like. Rescuing kids.

  Kids maybe like me. What would have happened to me if the Academy had found me sooner? Trapped in an environment I didn’t even realize was so dangerous and unhealthy.

  And that’s what I focused on. I wanted to be ready.

  To reach out to the next person, who was like me, who didn’t know they needed help.

  Lost, Alone. Who Would Have Known?

  The air in early February in Summerville, South Carolina matched my mood: gloomy, dreary rain.

  A chill I couldn’t shake.

  Gabriel and I stood close together, my arm behind his but touching. Waiting was the tough part.

  The door inside the garage could open. My stepmother could come out and find me here.

  It was risky, but if I wanted to be a ghost bird, we had to get this part over with.

  I needed to be free.

  The two-story gray house it seemed large and hollow while we stood outside, even more so than when I had lived inside.

  Gabriel was so much taller than when I met him last summer. His hair was cut short underneath now, and he had a mop of strands on top of his head, including the two blond locks near the front, a contrast against his natural russet color. Lean, strong, punk rock, and gruff appearing.

  As we stood together, I noticed ink marks on his arm. I reached for it, drawing it near to see he’d drawn a scene out of a movie we’d watched last week, with a girl alone on a train with a spirit and a mouse. Drawn to look like a tattoo but a few spots had faded to show it was just pen ink.

  I was about to ask him if he’d been thinking about getting tattoos again when the door opened.

  My sister appeared and spotted us. Silently she stepped out, closing the door behind herself. Her hair was up at the moment, in a high ponytail on her head with a scrunchy tie, wearing jeans and a halter shirt I didn’t recognize, and new Nike sneakers.

  When did she get those? However, I noticed there were empty delivery boxes piled neatly near the garbage bin just inside the garage. I hadn’t thought about them before. It didn’t matter. I imagined without me in the picture, she was able to get money to buy things, possibly on the internet now that our father had abandoned the house and everything in it. I wasn’t sure how finances were working for them right now, but I was glad she was able to get what she wanted.

  “I couldn’t find anything in the house,” Marie said. “I’ve looked every time she went into the bathroom.” She motioned to me. “You can double-check. I can ask her to do something...”

  She knew I could sneak in quietly, without being seen. It was too risky though. I just hated to prompt whatever mental illness my stepmother carried, triggered often by my appearance. The heated divorce proceedings she was in were bad enough.

  “Maybe it’s in the boxes,” I said, pointing to the extremely large shed with two garage bay doors toward the back of the driveway. “Can we go look? If I find yours, too, I’ll bring it out.”

  She seemed hesitant but nodded. “I should stay inside. Less suspicious.”

  Not to mention she probably didn’t want to hang out with us for a morning shifting through boxes in a stuffy, dusty shed.

  Marie went back inside, we headed to the shed, moving quickly to a side door and entering, not even daring to turn the lights on inside. Instead, we used our phones as lights, scanning the space. We slowly made our way in, until Gabriel grumbled.

  “We’re not going to find much looking in the fucking dark like this.” He went back, turned on the lights, but made sure to shut the door tightly to avoid being detected.

  He continued, “If your stepmom... ex-mom... asks about it, Marie can come back out and turn the light off... make some excuse.”

  Made sense.

  Part of me had that inkling of paranoia, guilt and fear of getting caught, the same I carried with me nearly all my life in that house.

  The number of boxes seemed bigger than last time. Or maybe now standing here, I got the full realization that we’d never really moved in, mostly because I considered the items to be not mine to look though. My mother often scolded me for pilfering.

  Some boxes, I thought, had our old toys. We never really threw anything out, not toys, not kid clothes, and we didn’t have garage sales. We just put them in boxes and tucked them into the garage, as if boxing and tucking away was enough to forget they even existed.

  “There’s got to be something in here,” Gabriel said. “They couldn’t enroll you in school without a birth certificate and shot records.” He went to one of the boxes and opened the top, peering inside. “Could be anywhere, though. This might take a while.”

  “Can’t we get the copies that were made at the school?” I asked.

  “Those we just delete the digital record and destroy the copy,” Gabriel said. “But we need the originals. We can’t have them brought up after you’ve left. We’ll be lucky if your dad doesn’t have them with him. We’ll already have to send Luke in to fetch anything as it is, but it’ll be harder if it’s a birth certificate. That he might notice is missing.”