The Blackbird 2

The Blackbird Chapter 2

Some people have asked me this and I find it funny but I have to set the record streight. My last name is not Houdini. It's just a nick name and I don't even spell it the same as the great master of escape because I feel it would be disrespectful and possibly even copyright infringement. They call me that because I'm sneaky and I pride myself on how graceful I am. You can't trip me, I have the reflexes of a cat. And of course I am good at escapes and comebacks. It's my charm.

But thank you everyone who commented on my newest story. I love vampires, but everyone writes about them and I feel that Stephenie Meyer pretty much runs the block on that one. So I decided to try Ghosts. Enjoy.
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I sat dumbfounded for a few moments. I hate that word, dumbfounded, but It's really the only word that describes exactly how I felt at this moment. I couldn't speak, couldn't think, and I'm not sure but maybe I even stopped breathing for a few seconds.

Regaining some of my composure, I mechanically reached under my bed and pulled out my laptop. I flipped open the lid and Googled his name. "Prove it." I said, reading the page his father had made about him.

I looked up at Grayson and I saw his eyebrow raised in disbelief, "You actually think I'm lying about who I am?"

I nodded, unable stop myself.

He rolled his eyes and laid back on the bed, staring at my ceiling. "What do you want to know?" He asked after a minute of staring.

"Hmmm...," I pondered, thinking of the correct question to ask, "Where did you go to school?"

"Ashville High School." He said without thinking about it.

I nodded to myself, he was correct. "Your parent's names?"

"My mom died when I was three, her name was Laura and my father's name is Warren," he didn't sound as if he were putting much thought into his answers. I was convinced by now so I closed the lid to the metallic black computer and stared at him for a few minutes, then I asked the only question that mattered.

"How did you die?" I whispered it, as if there were someone else in the room. Actually there wasn't anyone else in the house and there wouldn't be for several more hours until my mom came home. Unlike Grayson, it had been my father that died when I was five. I had never really wanted to know much about him though, I felt that I wouldn't miss him if I didn't remember him.

He didn't answer at first, he just continued to stare at the ceiling and several minutes went by without either of us saying a word. I watched silently as his cest rose and fell in the unnecessary movement of breathing. His clothes were darker shades of grey and black. His shirt was black with tiny swirls of grey seeping through it and his jeans were black, tighter than I would have expected for the son of a governor. His shoes matched perfectly with his shirt and he had a checkerboard patterned black and white bandanna tied loosely around his neck. This was the only thing about his appearance to ever change. Sometimes the bandana would hang from his back pocket, sometimes it would be rolled and tied around his wrist, but most of the time it hung in the same loose way around his perfect throat. His shirt was tight so you could see that he had fairly sizable muscles. He was even more perfect than I had originally noticed. There was nothing wrong with him, save his ego and attitude.

I leaned forward so that my face was over his. "You need to tell me, it's the only way I can help you."

He frowned and then whispered, "I don't remember."

I didn't find that odd, typically ghosts didn't remember much about their deaths. It was like being born, you don't remember that do you? But you could have the memories from your life, except the ones that contributed to your death. Usually all the ghost needed was a reminder of one of their last events.

"Well, was it a car accident? You went missing, do you remember any of that?" I pressed him, my eyebrows knitting together in concentration.

He frowned as well, "I don't remember anything really. My entire life's memory seems to be there, I can tell you anything about myself but it's all so distant." He was really concentrating now, his eyes were somewhere far away. "None of it seems real to me. It's like I'm seeing someone else's life. Like I'm just watching when I remember something."

I watched him again. Seeing his eyes play somewhere far away, in some memory perhaps. Finally he closed his eyes, sighed, and then he vanished.

Groaning I stood up. Now would be a great time for a shower. I collected things for me to sleep in, grabbing a silky grey pajama top and matching pants, and walked into my bathroom. I hesitated before closing the door, looking around one last time to make sure he wasn't there. Idlily I wondered where he had gone, sadly he didn't leave me alone often. I undressed quickly and stepped into the shower.

I turned on only the hot water, waiting until it nearly scalded my skin to inch on the cold. Raising my face to the heat of showerhead, I rubbed the back of my neck trying to get the tension out. When I closed my eyes random images of Grayson haunted me. I frowned and opened my eyes, angrily grabbing my bottle of shampoo. I had a strict no-thinking-of-ghost-in-the-shower rule. After I rubbed the shampoo through my hair, I leaned my head farther back to let the water rinse out the suds. Then I grabbed the sponge that hung around the showerhead and squirted my body wash onto it. I rubbed it around my body, taking in the smell of Lillies. I sighed and turned towards the stream of water, closing my eyes.

"I've been thinking-" at the sound of a voice in my bathroom I screamed. My eyes were wide with shock and I peeked around the curtain to have a better look.

Grayson sat on my counter, beside the sink. He was staring absently at the wall.

"Hello!" I yelled at him to get his attention. He didn't look at me but continued to ramble about something. "GRAYSON!" I almost screamed his name and he finally looked at me.

He cocked his head sideways, "Yes?" He asked, clearly not considering the current situation as unusual.

"What the HELL are you doing?" I asked with wide eyes.

He blinked. "I was telling you about an idea I had." He still wasn't catching on. His voice was innocent, but still sweet and seductive.... 'stop this now' I commanded myself silently.

"Get out," I saw him about to protest so I pointed to the door and I said, "Is no place private? When I get out of here we are making some rules but until then get out. Out, out, out."

He rolled his silver-black eyes and left, making it a point to walk through the door instead of just blinking to the other side. I huffed and leaned back against the navy blue tile wall. This was the second time in the past three days. He still wasn't getting it.
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When I came out I glared at him, he was casually laying on my bed, arm propping up his head. "You look stunning," he joked, "If I had known that I would be spending the night with such a charming woman," he said, emphasizing the word charming, "then I would have dressed up for the occasion, but I only have this one outfit." He sighed wistfully as he laid back on my bed.

"The next time you sneak up on me and I'm in the shower, I castrate your non-existent private parts," I still glared at him as I sat in an armchair, throwing my legs over one of the cushiony, rouge armrests.

"Don't you want to hear my idea?" He weedled his voice, "No one else wants to hear it."

I rolled my eyes, "actually I think you'll find that if you tell someone else then you'll find that they're the best listeners ever. It would be as if you weren't even there. Just think about it, no interruptions, no harsh words, no bad advice. You should give it a try, annoying someone else I mean."

"Do I really annoy you?" As he asked the question I sat up, and gasped when he appeared crouching in front of me. He was even more beautiful than usual, night gave them energy and made some ghosts appear to glow. Without thinking I reached up to touch where his pale cheek was. I ignored his question as I felt the strange sensation of touching a ghost.

You felt like you were stroking an ice cube, but your fingers went numb from the contact. You couldn't tell if you were actually touching them or just hovering there, almost making contact. Like frosted glass their skin was smooth, and yet you couldn't shift their skin. It wasn't hard but it wasn't soft either, you couldn't make it move though because their physical bodies were in a grave or where ever they had been left. And you could only touch them if they allowed you to.

"Didn't think so," he chuckled, smirking at himself. I dropped my fingers and frowned at him. He examined the look on my face and then he sighed, "I didn't mean to offend you, im just naturally a smart-ass."

"It's not that," I corrected him, "do you know where your body is?"

He seemed taken aback by question. "No, should I?" Again his head was cocked to the side.

I thought about it. "Sometimes, people- errr, ghosts I mean, sometimes they feel drawn to a place. Do you feel that? Anywhere?"

He thought for a while, "I feel drawn to this room, does that mean you killed me? Or is my body hiding under your bed?" He asked with a speculative glance towards it. Before I could answer he was gone.

I walked over to my bed and laid on the floor, lifting the black bedskirt to look under it. He smiled back at me, "Nope, all clear." We stayed like that, staring at each other.

"Did you mean that, about being drawn to me?" I whispered my question.

He rolled his eyes, "Look who's all high and mighty now."

"Did you mean it?" I asked, not backing down.

He just stared at me, his eyes melting into mine. Then he smiled widely. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. "Wha-"

The door opened and my mother looked in on me, "Are you hungry, Lilly? And what are doing under the bed?"

I glared at Grayson. "Thanks for the warning," I mumbled as I stood. "Nothing mom, just looking for something."

Grayson flicked to my mother's side and, into her ear, whispered, "Boo!" She didn't even flinch but I laughed.

She stared quizzically at me. She was the epitome of mother-of-a-prep. Blonde hair in waves and dressed in the latest watered down trends. She wasn't exactly my biggest fan, she didn't dislike me or anything, just my taste in music and music was my life so I felt that when she insulted my music, she insulted my life.

"Thanks mom," I said, ignoring her questioning looks, "but I’m not hungry."

She smiled, "I thought you weren't but I brought you some chips just in case," she laid them on counter beside the door as she left.

The door clicked closed and I closed my eyes. Suddenly I felt a coolness on my back. He was standing there, very close. I ignored this and went to the door, I pulled the switch and plunged the room into darkness.

There was a moment of silence and then Grayson's hushed voice broke it, "If I told you that I was afraid of the dark, would you laugh at me?"

At this I burst out laughing, unable to stop I fell to my knees and then on my back. I managed to crawl into my bed. After a few minutes I controlled myself.

"So you're really not hungry?" I groaned as my heart accelerated at the unexpected closeness. He had again blinked right beside me. I rolled over to face him and was shocked when I saw that he had opened the curtains. The moon was clearly visible through them and it seemed to reflect off of his silky skin. The silver in his eyes shone brighter, almost glowing, as he smirked at me.

"No," I managed to squeak out. I normally tried to keep detached from the ghosts. I realized with a pang of hurt that he, like the others would have to move on. "I don't eat much."

"Well you should, you look like a... a..." I could feel him smiling beside me, even though my eyes were trained on the moon. I flicked my eyes to him and then back away.

"Say it." I smiled.

"A...," he sounded on the verge of laughter.

"A?" I prodded, "Come on ghostie, say it."

His silent laughter sent cold air all around me, "a skeleton."

I pulled my hand up to my hear, "ooh no, I've been insulted by a ghost. Whatever shall I do?"

"Hmm..." he mumbled, rolling towards me. My breath caught as he leaned as close as he could, his nose almost touching mine. I pushed my head back into the pillows so that I could see his face. "I would kiss you now, but I'm a ghost." There was a spark of laughter in his eyes, but mischief as well, as if he were planning something.

"Is that so?" I asked, mockingly. He nodded solemnly. "Well then... it's a good thing you are a ghost." I said, leaning closer, my lips almost touching his.

"And why is that?" He asked as he moved is hand to brush my cheek.

I smiled, "because then I'd have to punch you."

He looked shocked. "You wouldn't." He said this as if it were a statement rather than a question, but I could hear the real curiosity burning behind his words.

"On the contrary, I would." I leaned back down and closed my eyes, smiling smugly.

"You're right then," he said, I raised my eyebrow in question, though I didn't open my eyes. "You cant fight me." That's when I felt his lips on my neck. My eyes flew open in shock.

I bolted upright and pushed myself away from him. "How did you do that?" I asked.

He smiled, "I told you I'd discovered something."

I shook my head vehemently, "you said you'd had an idea."

He sighed and laid back down on my silky bedspread, "Yes, but you were so shocked by my entrance that you didn't listen to the rest." He motioned for me to lay back down. I did so, though hesitantly.

"Talk," I demanded rolling on my side to face him. He didn't respond, he just continued to stare at the ceiling.

After a few minutes he closed his eyes, "in the morning, you need to get some sleep now."

I rolled my eyes for the millionth time tonight, "I can't," then I smiled, "what if I told you that I was afraid of ghosts."

He laughed, "then I'll leave." He shrugged then disappeared.

I sat up again. "Grayson!" I whisper/yelled his name.

A silent laugh came from beside me. "Yes, your majesty?" He asked laying back, arms extended on either side of him and nearly taking up all of the bed.

I laid back on his left arm, it was odd. Though I couldn't actually feel it, I wasn't touching the bed where his arm was. He wrapped it around me and pulled me closer. "Goodnight, Lilly." He whispered into the dark.

"But-" I protested.

"In the morning. Sleep," his command sent a coolness through my body. Damn him, he was making me sleep. Ghosts had certain abilities, in my experience they could move small objects, blow "ghostly" winds, make people pass out, and set small and relatively harmless fires. The younger the ghost the more unpredictable the outcome of their attempt at magic. I was lucky that he didn't set my hair on fire, but that made me wonder exactly how long he had been dead.

Tomorrow I started my search for his past. The parts he was missing at least. As I drifted into sleep I reminded myself not to get too attached to the ghost. They had to move on at some point and obviously Grayson only wanted my help so that he could get as far away from the human world as possible.
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