Katherine Shaw
Chicago, 1890
The train was nearing my stop. I slipped the book back into the plastic bag and then paused, sensing that I was being watched. That probably wasn’t too surprising given that I had been trying to systematically mutilate a book—strange conduct, even by subway standards.
I glanced up and saw two young men, now seated at the very end of the subway car, three rows away. I didn’t recall anyone getting on at the last stop, and although I had to admit that I had been a bit preoccupied, I couldn’t shake the feeling that they had just appeared out of nowhere. They were facing me, so I could see them clearly. One of the two was a bit overweight, about my age, with dark blond hair and sallow skin that looked like he rarely ventured outdoors. The emblem on his rather worn T-shirt reminded me of an album cover, but I couldn’t place the band. His eyes darted down to his lap and he began writing on a small pad as soon as I looked in their direction.
The other guy was tall, several years older, and very handsome, with longish black hair. I felt a slow flush spread to my cheeks as I recognized the dark eyes that I had seen when I touched the medallion. My hands tingled slightly as I remembered the warmth of his skin beneath them, the feeling of his hand at my waist, and the warmth that had rushed through my body at his touch. I couldn’t imagine how he had stepped out of my hallucination and into the Metro, but I was absolutely certain that this was the same guy.
He looked a bit older now than when I’d seen him earlier, and his expression was an odd mix of sadness, fear, and the same longing that I remembered from my vision. He gripped the seat cushion and didn’t look away, even when the other guy elbowed him sharply. I was the one who finally broke our locked gaze.
The train began to slow almost immediately after I glanced away, and I quickly looked up again. The doors hadn’t opened yet, and only a second had passed, but both of them were gone. I walked toward the bench where they had been seated and put out my hand, half expecting to encounter a solid form—or lose a finger—but the space was empty. I was almost convinced that I had simply imagined them, but two indentations in the orange vinyl subway cushion were gradually smoothing out, just as they always did when a rider left. I brushed my fingers along the edge of the cushion that the tall young man had clutched so tightly and found that it was still warm from his hand.
3
I arrived at karate class a few minutes late and slid into my usual place beside Charlayne. For the next hour we practiced our routines, and the physical activity pushed the events of the past few days from my mind—almost. I was usually able to take Charlayne, probably because I’d had an additional year of classes, but I was flipped twice that afternoon and soon would have a nice, colorful bruise on my right thigh from a rather wicked clip by Charlayne’s foot.
We kept on task until class ended. As we headed out the door, Charlayne turned toward me. “So? What’s up? You haven’t answered any of my texts…”
I still wasn’t sure how much I really could explain without Charlayne thinking I had totally lost my mind. So I opted for a lame shared joke. “Let me explain… No, there is too much. Let me sum up.”
Charlayne rolled her eyes. I could quote The Princess Bride pretty much start to finish. “Okay then, sum up, Inigo Montoya. What happened?”
I knew Charlayne well enough to be certain that she’d get the full story out of me eventually. If she thought I was keeping even a hint of a secret, she wouldn’t rest until she’d convinced me to cough up every juicy detail.
“Okay, here goes. My grandmother is dying, she’s leaving me a big house, a lot of money and my dad and I are going to move in with her for the year. I’ve inherited a special ability from her that she needs to teach me how to use in order to save the world as we know it. Or something like that. And I very nearly shared a kiss with what I think may be a ghost who disappeared into thin air on the Metro.”
“You nearly kissed someone on the subway? Was he cute?” Leave it to Charlayne to zero in on the kiss. Having three older brothers meant that there was a constant stream of guys at her house, and she kept several of them dangling on a string at all times. It was her goal in life to ensure that I lived up to my personal romantic potential, but so far her matchmaking efforts had been unmitigated disasters.
“Yes, he was cute,” I answered. “And I didn’t almost kiss him on the subway. It was in my grandmother’s kitchen—or in a wheat field somewhere. Both, I think.”
There was a long pause, while Charlayne just stared at me. “Okay. I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t lie to me, Kate. So that leaves insanity, heavy drugs…” She paused. “Or you’re telling the truth. I’m going to need more than the ‘let me sum up’ version to figure this one out.”