Shimmer

In the short amount of time since I’d crossed the bridge to my new home in the Here & Now, I’d already aced an assignment at a pretty impressive castle in the English countryside, had already soared directly above the bustling streets of London, and was at that very moment enjoying a nice little vacay on one of the Virgin Islands—all of that happening within a very short, very brief, amount of time, thankyouverymuch. Which left me with no doubt that there’d be plenty more travel in store for me, what with all the assignments I’d have, and all the lingering souls I’d be expected to cross over.

“Anyway,” he said, still chomping away, that green straw bobbing up and down in his mouth in what was clearly an annoying habit held over from his time on the earth plane, “even though legend says that coming across one is a bad omen—a portent of death—”

“A portent?” I looked at him, my brow rising, convinced he was trying to show off again.

“An omen, a sign, a—”

“I know what it means.” I rolled my eyes and waved it away, waved away his lame attempt to impress me, to lord his oh-so-big vocabulary over me.

“Anyway, the thing is,” he continued, squinting as he gazed up and down the mostly empty beach, “even though the legends all claim that whoever sees a Black Shuck will be dead within a year, that’s obviously something you don’t have to worry about. I mean, seeing as you’re already dead and all…”

“So that’s it, then?” I placed my hands on my hips and stared. “You’re just gonna let this psycho phantom hellhound run amok, and basically terrorize all the people on the beach, and do nothing to stop it?”

He shrugged, obviously not nearly as alarmed by the prospect as I was. “Guess I don’t really see the point,” he said. “I mean, face it, Riley, the only one who seems to be terrorized by the dog is you.”

I searched his face, searched for obvious signs (portents!) of mocking, but came up empty. So then I said, “What about Buttercup, then? What about that yelp that I heard? He sounded scared to death—so to speak.”

But Bodhi just laughed. “Mad maybe, but definitely not scared. That was my bad. I caught his ball in midair and flew with it. He wasn’t too pleased, but you got over it, didn’t you, boy?” His voice grew all soft and mushy as he reached down to give Buttercup a good scratch between the ears. And it was all I could do not to cringe when I saw how quickly my dog abandoned my side in order to scooch back toward Bodhi’s, where he sat, happily gazing at him, all drooly and goo-goo eyed.

“Besides, whatever lingering spirits you find here are to be left alone. No matter what. Just remember, if it’s not assigned by the Council, then it’s none of our business.” His face grew all serious, wanting me to know just how much he meant it. Then assuming his job was done, assuming he’d waged the winning argument, he added, “So come on, what do you say we forget the beast, ditch this fogged-out beach, and go check out the town?”

I placed my hands on my hips and gazed into a mist that seemed as though it wasn’t about to burn off anytime soon. Still, if you knew where to look, you’d find a few patchy bits here and there, and I took them to be a promise that a beautiful day might be in the works.

And even though we were there on vacation, even though this little trip was awarded to us by the Council for a job well done after crossing over some ghosts who’d been haunting a castle for way too long (ghosts that no other Soul Catcher had been able to move on, including Bodhi, until I came along), even though Bodhi was nice enough to let me choose the place and didn’t lodge even a single complaint when I picked St. John (the island my parents had honeymooned on—solely because I’d heard them talk about it so often, and so wistfully—I just had to seize the chance to see it for myself), even though we only had a little time left before we’d have to return to the Here & Now, appear before the Council, and get back to the business of our next assignment—even though I knew all of that—I still looked at him and said, “I’m not going anywhere till I convince that dog to move on.”

4

“We can’t do it. You can’t do it,” Bodhi said, and even though I chose to ignore him, it’s not like that stopped him. “Riley, did you not hear me? If the Council didn’t assign it, it’s none of our business.”

He looked at me, shot me this long, hard, determined stare, but I chose to ignore that too.

Partly because I was already moving away from him, already making my way down the beach, headed in the same direction that the Hell Beast had run in.

And partly because I wasn’t interested in listening to that kind of dissent, nor to any dissent. Not when I was so busy forming a plan.

“It’s not like we can just go crossing over whomever we feel like, whenever we feel like. There are rules about these sorts of things, rules you’re not even aware of. Besides, it’s not like you’ll find him anyway,” Bodhi called out from behind me, his voice fading, the pitch growing weaker and weaker with each passing step I took. “Seriously, you’re just wasting your time. They only show themselves when they want to be seen. And even then, it’s usually only when they’re trying to ward off some kind of threat or something.”

I stopped.

Dug my toes deep into the wet, grainy sand and reconsidered my whole entire game plan.

I was headed the wrong way.

Instead of going in the same direction the beast had run, I should’ve been headed the way he’d come.

The same direction I’d originally been headed.

The same direction Buttercup and Bodhi had returned from.

Because if what Bodhi claimed was true, then there was something over there that the old Snarly Yow/Phantom Dog/Hell Beast found worthy of guarding. And if I could just find what that was, then I could also find him.

So I turned, turned and headed right back to where Bodhi was standing. Noting the look of smug relief on his face, the way he nudged Buttercup with his knee, signaling that now that I’d caved in to his infinite wisdom, now that I’d finally come to my senses and seen his side of things, it was time for us to move on.

But I just kept going.

Just sailed right past him, as I pierced though the fog and he called out from behind me, yelling, “Riley! I’m serious. Why do you still find it so impossible to listen to me? I thought we we’re past this. I thought we had an understanding. I am the guide, and you—” He paused, searching for just the right word, one that would serve to get his point across, but hopefully not offend. His voice sure and confident the second he found it, he said, “And you are the apprentice. Which means you can’t go making up assignments—you are not a free agent! You can only get them from the Council or me. Riley! This is not a joke. I’m completely serious. What will it take to get you to listen to me? To respect me?”

It was a lot of words.

Quite a mouthful really.

But to me, they were just a whole bunch of consonants and vowels haphazardly strung together.

The only reason I’d heard any of it was because he’d decided to follow me. And as he rushed to keep up, he added, “You can’t just do whatever you want, you know. There are rules and regulations, and all it takes is just one ridiculously irrational move on your part to jeopardize everything I’ve worked so hard to build! It’s my job to look after you. I’m responsible for you whether you like it or not. And yet, even though you’re well aware of that, even though you know all too well how I just got back in good with the Council after almost getting demoted and falling out of favor, you insist on doing this. Refusing to stop and consider how your reckless ideas might affect me. You just get some crazy idea about saving some Hell Beast that’s probably not even on the Council’s radar, and then you just