Chapter one
Blood-shattering cold meant only one thing. The girl in the white dress had arrived. This was her third visit to my dreams in three days and she had yet to make her appearance official, choosing instead to flicker in and out of focus on the outskirts of my mind.
Normal spirits, awaken to the fact they were dead or eternal sleepwalkers, would have made a move by this point either to talk or drift off aimlessly through the plains of non-existence, but not her. She wanted something else. Something evil. I could feel it biting my skin with cold.
I didn’t want to admit it, but she was the first spirit I was completely and totally afraid of. And that was saying something.
“Rachel, you up?” My mom’s cheerful voice yanked me from sleep. Driving the spirit from my head and replacing it with a migraine.
I stabbed my fingers in the center of my forehead. Not only did I have to deal with tortuous headaches that under no condition Tylenol would control but every stinking morning my mother was happy. What the hell for? Barely awake and already smiling and laughing as if life was so wonderful. Nonsense.
“Come on, Rach. Get up.”
“I’m up.” Blurry eyed, I snatched at the clock on the nightstand. Red numbers blinked 7:05. I stared at it with disbelief. The bus didn’t arrive until fifteen after, why was she waking me now.
“You have pictures today.” She answered my unvoiced question. “Please, wear something nice.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I pulled the pillow from under my head and tried to suffocate myself. Weren’t seniors exempt from normal school pictures?
“Come on, Rach—up and at’em.”
I groaned. The pillow dropped onto my stomach ending any possible chance I had at dying today. I spilled out of bed and stumbled over mounds of dirty laundry and fast food wrappers that littered the path to the closet. I shifted through some of the odd angled hangers for anything that resembled jeans and a t-shirt, but only pink dresses and skirts with matching blouses assaulted my eyes.
I glared out my open door. That vixen. She knew it was picture day today and deliberately didn’t warn me so I would be stuck wearing princess crap. However, I wasn’t going down that easy. I sniffed the shirt I wore to bed last night. It didn’t smell that bad, and with a little soap I bet I could get the ketchup stain off.
“You’re going to be late, Rach. Get a move on it.” Her voice followed me to the bathroom where I slammed the door before it could slip inside with me.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I looked into the mirror ready to do what I did every morning—stare pointlessly into my olive skinned face, smear on cover up to hide the bags under my eyes from never sleeping.
Scratch that.
I slept, but the dead always woke me so I could help them settle their anxiety about dying, knot up their loose ends – whatever they felt like. Come night I was at their beck-and-call. It was unnerving.
I could kill my uncle for naming me “Angenii” at the native ceremony following my birthday bash last year—Spirit greeter. Where did he get the notion I, of all people, was a spirit greeter? I don’t like most living people, let alone spirits of dead ones.
I finished rubbing make-up all over my face and then slapped on some purple eye shadow and thick black eye-liner. I ran my fingers through my thick, dark brown hair – that should be good enough for pictures.
“You’re going to miss your bus, Rach.”
“No, I’m not.” I grumbled in a usual manner, though I had to admit, she was probably right. It was getting late. One last attempt at dabbing out the ketchup stain proved pointless, the stain wouldn’t budge. Oh well. The shirt would have to do, because I was not wearing anything in my closet – not ever.
I tossed open the bathroom door and ran down the steps.
Standing in the entryway, wearing her freshly ironed, off-white, silk blouse – unbuttoned on top, with matching tan skirt, and high heels was my mom. In her hands was a piece of toast and my backpack.
“Rach, are you really wearing that for picture day? It’s stained.” She sneered. “I thought you might try the pink skirt and silk blouse I bought for you.”
“You thought wrong.” I told her as angelic as possible. I slung the backpack over my shoulder and took the toast with my teeth. “But I love you.” I mumbled through buttery flakes.
“You should just wear the blouse. I know it’s clean.”
“Can’t.” I muttered. “I’ll miss my bus.”
“I’ll drop you off.” She chimed back smartly.
“No thanks.” I finished off the toast, dusted the crumbs on my shirt and pants, and headed toward the door.
“Smile this time, please.” She looked over my shoulder at last year’s picture hanging on the wall. The knot on the right side of my hair was cut off by the border of the frame. My eyes were sucken in and drool coated my lips. I looked like I was on drugs, but that was three days after my uncle Dav bestowed me with the name Angenii and I hadn’t slept since.
I gave my mother the stupidest closed mouth grin I could muster.
“Not funny,” she replied as I stuffed my feet into unlaced shoes and ran out the door. I thought it was funny.
Outside, I staggered down the wooden steps doing my best not to slip on the ice-coated ground. Instantly, I began to shiver. The morning was piercing cold. My breath came out in ghostly shades of white.
Not ghosts. Not today. I couldn’t handle any more drama in my life.
I watched my breath twist with the breeze and was relieved when no faces shifted into view as they did sometimes in my dreams. Being eighteen was tough enough. I didn’t need the psycho crap of the dead to make it any livelier.
“Hey Rach. Better run girl. The bus is here.” Myka was another one of those annoyingly happy people that I tolerated. Well, I had too. She was my best friend. We were complete opposites. She loved style to a point she ironed her t-shirts and me…well I wore yesterdays clothes when I had nothing to wear.
I looked up waving, but stopped abruptly. The cold suddenly tripled around me. I felt like I was breathing ice shards. It took a second to collect myself. I knew what this meant. She was back.
I slowly revolved, readying myself to face my non-friendly spirit for the first time. This wasn’t going to be good. Facing purified evil never was.
I glanced across the street where I felt her presence. The neighbors sold sign was gone from their well-manicured front lawn and a moving truck had backed into their driveway.
I shook with confusion. Why would my nightmare ghost be at the neighbors’ house? But there she was. Upstairs, solid and just as alive as me, sat a teenaged girl with thick black hair, pale skin, and cat shaped eyes. It wasn’t any girl. It was my spirit stalker, the one wearing the white gown.
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