Adelaide Annoyed

By Penny Greenhorn

Adelaide Graves couldn’t care less that the gifted are gathering on St. Simons in celebration of the Festival of the Dead. She’s only interested in one thing—cracking the curse that’s interfering with her love life. But when girls start to go missing from the event, she’s spurred into helping. It won’t be easy. Plagued by a demon and distracted by her family, Adelaide’s struggle with her empathy reaches new heights.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Penny Greenhorn
• Release date: Feb 27, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310919169

Penny Greenhorn

Penny Greenhorn is a novelist who currently resides in Alaska. When she’s not writing science fiction, fantasy or misanthropes, she can be found off the beaten track with her fuzzy schnauzer, Boods. Her works include the Empath Series, Fiona Frost Trilogy, and a stand-alone urban fantasy, Harbinger. You can find out more about Penny and her twitterpated heroines at pennygreenhorn.com.

Book preview

The toddler reached out its chubby little wrists, fingers curling with want.  It was dressed in all blue, a much needed tip-off as it was still in that androgynous phase.  All wispy hair and plump, creased flesh.

Wait, the father impatiently answered, leaning away to avoid the sticky drool fingers as he tried to fix the kite.

The little boy squealed, a noise so high in pitch that I couldn’t help but wince.

I was sitting around a metal table that sprouted from the ground for public use.  An oak shook restlessly above me, the Spanish moss floating sideways as the wind held it in place.  It was a good day for flying a kite.  The October air was crisp as the leaves, but not cold enough to drive away the day-trippers.  The sea stretched out before me, the waves rolling in with the air, carrying a strong breeze that whipped my hair and plucked my sleeves.

I had watched the father run laps along the beach with the kite trailing behind him.  The boy had been entranced by its fluttering red tail as he toddled along the damp sand.  But the kite hadn’t climbed very high before it took a nosedive.  They’d clambered up the wooden staircase in defeat, retreating to the picnic area where they claimed the spot next to me.

The lighthouse loomed just over my shoulder, and this place tucked between it and the sea had been designed with visitors in mind, offering up barbeque pits and picnic tables galore.  St. Simons’ little village was at my back, a grid of shops all clustered downtown for the tourists.  It was a double dose of charming, and the seagulls were currently crying out as if to highlight its winsome delight.

I shifted on the bench, feeling the crisscrossed surface leave indentations along the back of my legs.  The tabletop was made of the same pattern, a weave of coated metal.  I noticed this and was irrationally annoyed by the fact.  My fingers curled.  I shifted again.  I wasn’t just annoyed, I was frustrated, and growing more so by the minute.  Annoyed, frustrated, and… impatient.  My whole body was insisting that I move, shift, twitch.

The little boy got ahold of the string, unraveling it a bit.  He kept tipping over his father’s lap, wanting to touch the kite, mesmerized by its bright colors.

"Wait," the man said again, irritation coloring his voice as he struggled to fit the flimsy frame into the cheap plastic material.

I could feel my lips and nose scrunching up, face pulled with distaste.  I forced it flat.  Forced my fingers to release and lay open, no longer clenching.  I took a deep breath.  Yes, I have the urge to crush something.  I am annoyed, frustrated and impatient.  These feelings are not founded in me.  They will pass.  They will pass.  They will pa—

The boy’s cry tore through the air, shrill at first but ending on a whiny note.

Fuck it, I muttered to myself, giving up.  I slid off the bench, noticing the father was glaring in my direction.

What? I thought, mirroring his look.  It’s not like he can understand me.

I would’ve walked past, and was doing just that when I heard him mutter something.  I didn’t catch it exactly, but could identify the gist of his sentiment.  He was offended, thinking I was rude and vulgar.

My feet stopped of their own accord.  My back became a ramrod as I turned on him.  What are you angry at me for?  I didn’t make you buy that crappy kite, so don’t misplace your frustration and put it on me, I lectured.  I couldn’t help but add, And in case you didn’t notice, he’s not interested in doing anything but chewing on it!  I felt better as I walked off.  Not for yelling at the man, but because I was leaving him, his son, and their emotions behind.

A few months ago I’d felt like I was making progress with my empathy.  Now I wasn’t so sure.  I grimaced, thinking of how I just lost it.  When it came to controlling my abilities, that had been an epic fail.

I sighed, veering off the sidewalk and onto the pier.  It was partially covered, the end branching off to create a giant T that was stilted high off the water.  A man cast his line, the brim of his bucket hat wobbling in the wind.  I walked on, passing two girls that giggled with their heads together.  I suppressed a small smile, pinching my lips until their emotions escaped my range.

The end of the pier was empty.  I slumped my forearms against the wooden railing, leaning there as I tried to relax.  I stared down into the lapping water, disconcerted by my backslide.  The last few months had been trying as I avoided Lucas in my search to break his curse.  I had nothing to show for it, and I missed him.  That excitement he’d created, that belief that my life was full of promise, it was gone.  Now it was all too easy to fold under the frustration and anger, even if they weren’t mine.  I was having a relapse, my emotional control shot.

The white fabric caught my eye.  I glanced over, finding a young girl at the railing beside me.  I hadn’t sensed her approach.  How long has she been here?

She didn’t seem to notice me, too lost in thought.  I shivered to look at her.  She wore only a thin dress.  It was shabby, and as I examined it I realized it wasn’t a dress at all, but a nightgown.  She was barefoot too, but the chill didn’t seem to reach her.  I couldn’t understand it.  It was brisk, the air matching the sea, gales and waves.  The birds circled and shrieked.  The air was briny and sharp.  The senses couldn’t be at rest here, too much to feel, to hear, smell and see.  But she was just standing there, all stoic and untouched as the garment hung limply around her legs, dark hair draped lifeless along her face and back.  Why did this strike me as strange?

She finally noticed me then, our eyes catching.  I was the first to look away.  But her emotions reared, capturing me even as I pretended not to see her.  Eager and hopeful, but mostly desperate.  I shook my head, wishing to dislodge her feelings.  I was done with my emotional training for the day.  I wanted peace.  I turned to leave, but she lunged across my path, waving her arms madly.

I shuffled back, and that was when I took note of the pearly sheen.  It was subtle, but her skin, her gown, they seemed to merge, pale and faded.  I could make out the horizon behind her, and faintly through her.  She wasn’t solid.  It was no wonder her appearance had niggled my brain as strange.  The wind didn’t touch her; unconsciously I had noticed.

Uhh…  My mind went blank for a moment, my experience with ghosts limited.  What was I supposed to do?  Now’s not really a good time for me, I finally muttered, shuffling as I tried to get around her.  But her desperation was too much.  She was in despair, so scared I couldn’t help but look at her.  Her mouth moved, one soundless word forming over and over.

Help.

I hate to break it to you, but you’re already dead, I told her.  Whatever help you need, it can’t be that urgent.  Let’s have a rain check.

She frantically moved forward, her fingers grasping as they wisped through me.  She had a rail-thin frame, her arms so slim they looked like they might snap from her frenzied effort.  Help.  Help.  Help, she silently begged.  Her eyes were frightened and pleading, her hands fluttering about.  Suddenly she stopped.  Her head snapped to the side.

I followed her gaze.  The sea swished beneath us, a vast blue sheet, otherwise there was nothing.  But her fear was increasing as if she could sense something I could not.  She looked back at me, eyes wide.  Terrified.  Please!  Please help me!

I—  I didn’t get to finish.  Her whole body was suddenly jerked back unnaturally, zipping off across the ocean faster than I could track.  The blur of her quickly disappeared.

I stared after her for a moment.  Well that was disturbing.

Chapter 2

I thought about that ghost encounter as I crossed Mallery Street.  It bothered me, but then, most social encounters did.  Living or dead, it didn’t matter, I wasn’t a fan of human beings in general.  I knew how intricately twisted they could be.  But that girl… she was so young and afraid.  I should’ve probably done something.  But what?  She was dead!  What unfinished business could be so dire, so pressing?  I couldn’t think of any.  And I couldn’t fathom what had stirred those emotions either.  What were ghosts afraid of?

I would’ve asked Smith, but I hadn’t seen him since I found his bones in the forest.  I mostly accepted that he was gone for good, no longer held back by unfinished business.  But a part of me still hoped he’d stream into my kitchen one day, and more often than not I found myself waiting.

I passed cafes and boutiques on my way to the Parlor.  The easel sign wasn’t out, and I remembered it was Tuesday.  Nancy’s shop wouldn’t be open.  I knocked on the door, scuffing my shoe across the pavement as I waited.

It took a while, but Eclipsys finally opened the door.  You have the best worst timing, she told me, her Big Apple accent mixing some of the Ts for Ds.

Why? I asked, waiting in the narrow hall as she locked the door back up.

Nancy, she said, shaking her head as she made for the second floor.

The floorboards creaked as I followed her, dust motes swirling through the grim interior.  If any place looked like it would be haunted, it was the Parlor.  They played up the psychic shtick with dark walls that seemed to smother you.  It appeared eerie and quiet as if the rooms were holding their breath.

Even before Eclipsys opened the door to the upstairs apartment, I could feel Nancy Bristow’s emotions.  They were strong, reaching me like a scream.  Dismay and distress.  Apprehension and anxiety.  Panic.

What the hell is going on?  I turned to Eclipsys, waiting for an explanation.  But then I heard Nancy’s muttering and followed it to the kitchen.  She was bent over the table, its surface covered in an overlapping disarray of cards.  There were tarot cards and playing cards, different decks of each, and I even saw the set of Go Fish I’d bought her as a birthday gift.  Her hands were rushing over them.  She pushed the pile around, flipping cards, arranging and rearranging them.

I saw it, she muttered to herself.  Her hair was frizzier than usual, the light colored strands refusing to lay flat.  Her shirt was coming untucked from the elastic waistband of her peasant skirt.  I can find it again.  I must.

Nancy, I barked.

She glanced up, absently at first, but then my presence sank in.  Adelaide.  She sounded tired.  It’s a disaster.  I did a reading this morning like I always do, but Petra disrupted the cards before I could get a good look.  Nancy’s cat was sprawled across the top of the fridge, paws hanging off, relaxed and totally unrepentant.

I still don’t understand the problem.  I felt it, but beyond that I was lost.

I got a glimpse before the image fell away, she explained.  It looked—  She broke off, shaking her head.  I can’t be sure, but I think someone is going to die at the convention.

Quiet descended in the kitchen, but it was loaded with feeling.  Nancy sank into a chair as if weighed down by her worries.  I did the same, dropping my messenger bag on the floor.  Eclipsys was different.  She had a wiry build that seemed to store up energy.  She moved around the kitchen, more or less removed from the drama as she made tea.

I think I should cancel, Nancy said, sounding less certain than she felt.

I perked up.  I hadn’t wanted to attend the convention, but I was roped in.  Any excuse to back out was fine by me.  It’s probably for the best, I quickly assured her.  "I mean, if someone’s life is on the line…"

Don’t go overboard, Eclipsys said.  She was almost bored, and I thought her emotional distance was odd.  Remember that time you saw a boy drowning, so we spent days prowling the beach.

I glanced between them, noticing Nancy was growing a bit sheepish.  What happened?

"We finally gave up, and when we got back to my place I flipped on the TV.  An old rerun of Baywatch was airing, the one where they rescue a boy from drowning.  Eclipsys snapped her fingers.  And remember that ti—"

It’s easy to misinterpret things, Nancy cut in, feeling embarrassed.  I know that better than most.  But don’t you think we should take precautions?

I nodded along, saying, Canceling sounds safest.

You didn’t see the image clearly before it disappeared, and now you can’t find it at all, Eclipsys said, waving her hand over the jumble of cards on the table.  And even if the image was exactly how you say, it could still be a misunderstanding.  She turned her back, pouring the tea as she talked.  Consider what will happen before you do anything rash.

Nancy was caving.  Damn it, Eclipsys, I thought.  Stop talking!

Maybe I’m getting carried away, Nancy admitted.  I’m not sure of anything, and it would be a shame to cancel because of one groundless prediction.  And we’ve already finalized things with the club, she went on.  Imagine what a tough spot it would put your friend in if we dropped everything.  I wouldn’t want to do that to you, Adelaide, especially not after all you’ve contributed.

Nancy was giving me waaay too much credit.  I’d pestered Reed into helping because he was a member of the Sleeping Oaks Country Club and Nancy had needed space for some of the convention’s events.  He’d agreed, but with a slew of conditions.  Beyond that my involvement was nil.

Don’t let that stop you from canceling, I insisted.  I’ll be fine, really.  Don’t worry about me and my… friend.  They didn’t know that the famed business oligarch Reed Wallace was involved.  That had been his first condition.  He would only assist as a silent party, not wanting his name tied with ‘those New Age idiots.’  His words, not mine.

But some of the convention members are already arriving on the island, Nancy exclaimed as if just remembering.  It’s really too late to back out now.

I made one last attempt, saying, "But someone’s life…"

Nancy wasn’t listening.  She was already going over Thursday’s arrangements with Eclipsys.  I heard the word horse.  Sterling’s was even mentioned.  I should have paid attention, but I wasn’t looking forward to the convention.  It was an obligation I wanted to disengage from.

You haven’t told Adelaide the reason you wanted to see her, Eclipsys said, breaking into my thoughts a moment later as she pushed a cup of tea in front of me.  I grimaced down at it.

Oh, right! Nancy said, her darker feelings eaten away by excitement.  I’ve been meaning to tell you, I was contacted by the very same person who put Percy’s gift into your ring.  They’re attending this year’s convention.

After learning the truth of Luke’s situation I’d asked Nancy about Percy’s ring, hoping that if someone was able to remove a gift, they could remove a curse too.  At the time she hadn’t even been sure it was a person that was responsible for the gift’s transfer.  Who is it? I asked eagerly.

You know I can’t say, Nancy answered.

I couldn’t hold back my sigh of exasperation.  Stupid rules.  Nancy had explained that the convention was a ‘safe place,’ meaning that no one was expected to disclose their ability.  It was considered rude to even ask.

Nancy smiled at me conspiratorially.  But I’m sure with that gift of yours, you’ll have everyone figured out in no time.

If there was one thing I did want, it was to break Luke’s curse.  We couldn’t be together until that happened.  Nancy was right, I could use my empathy to discover what I wanted.  Suddenly the convention wasn’t looking half as dreadful.

Chapter 3

So you decided to come to work today? Ben sarcastically asked, noting my arrival as I pushed into the office of Sterling’s Motel.

I’m not that late, I said, checking the wall clock.  It was five minutes slow, and currently showed that I was right on time.

"Not that late?" Ben repeated, spoiling for a fight.  He was standing behind the front desk, his knuckles pressed against the high counter.  He was lean and old, but not the least bit frail, though I liked to insist that he was.  He hated having his age mentioned.  And that was sort of my other job.  I worked at the front desk and I annoyed my boss Ben Sterling, the motel’s owner.  He loved to yell, needed to really, and I was the only one capable of withstanding his tantrums.  "Not that late!" he exploded.

Calm down, I warned, dropping my bag behind the counter as I reached for the check-in sheet.  Think of your blood pressure.

There’s nothing wrong with my blood pressure!  His scraggly beard twitched with angry indignation.  His whole face had been pulled down by time, cheeks and eyes prominent as the rest of his face dragged around them, appearing lined and sunken.  I’m giving you three days! he reminded me for maybe the hundredth time.  Three days off! And you still stroll in here like you own the place!

Stephen had the misfortune to turn up just then.  He shut the office door quietly, sort of cringing away from Ben like an abused pet.

Clean the windows! Ben barked at him.  There’s smudge marks on the glass.

That won’t make a difference, I challenged.  You haven’t added a fresh coat of paint to this place in years.  It’s not the windows that are dragging down your property value.

There’s nothing wrong with the paint! Ben bellowed, turning belligerent.  He especially hated it when I nagged him to fix up the place.  He refused to make changes, wanting to leave it just as he and his wife Mary had made it.  It’s classic!

I shook my head, but didn’t say anything more.  He stormed out, slamming the door on his way.  I guess I’ll clean the windows, Stephen said.

I shrugged.  I had my own work cut out for me; beyond that I couldn’t care less.  Ben might haul in the lion’s share of hours, staying long before and after each shift, but when it came to tasks completed, I was the reigning champion.  I kept track of supplies, sent out orders, and did the basic bookkeeping.  I even wrote out our checks.

That day I was only interrupted twice.  Even that felt like a lot for a Tuesday afternoon.  First it was Bernadette Johnson, a regular.  She was old, like really old.  But she still faithfully dyed her hair black, the wiry strands so bold and dark it made the rest of her seem faded.  She lived with her daughter’s family, but they were ‘sticks in the mud.’  Her words, not mine.  So Bernadette cashed in her social security checks, bought some cigars, and snuck off to Sterling’s whenever she got half a chance.  She would rent a room and spend the whole time in her underwear listening to jazz really loud while she puffed away in one of our designated smoking units.  She enjoyed herself, that was, until her family inevitably came to get her.

Bernadette made me fear growing old.  She was so bored, so confined and resentful.  She had little control over how she spent her time.  And her family was so busy being ‘helpful,’ they didn’t seem to notice Bernadette being railroaded into living a life that was convenient for them but unenjoyable for her.

Have fun, I told her, passing over the room key.  She hummed on her way out, gently swaying back and forth.  She looked like a madwoman.  But I knew her habits and made sure to put her where