Shade of Human

Seven - SoH

Seven:

“You know, filtering through all this ghost buster bullshit is gonna take more time, girl!”

Clarke said. I shot him another irritated look.

“You still haven’t told me where the hell you got this from in the first place.”

There was a twinge of guilt at withholding that piece of info from Clarke, but somehow it felt safer to do so now. Clarke could see these things, but my instincts told me he was still very much a normal human in every other way. No magical hands that snuff out ghosts like me. Heck, I still did not know how or why I could do that or how I “pushed” at the hot detective lady without manhandling her per se.

If I was being honest with myself, the other reason I was reluctant to share my info with Clarke, was I feared his departure from our friendship once he learned how much of a freak I was beneath my sexy hot exterior. In my young life, I have witnessed many instances of humans rejecting that which they cannot comprehend. I had no desire to experience this with Clare as the human and me as the rejected party.

Spinning thoughts seemed to funnel through my every waking moment. Denial and shock seemed to be a constant two-step dance around my nervous system. One encounter with a single being unraveled a lifetime of assumptions that had been safe bets until this moment. We all assume we are born human, and that the monsters are not real. We are all brought up in varying degrees of danger, but we all believe we understand what the truth is and what sharp-toothed predators stalk us, circling for any opening, any weakness.

My world was aflame. My reality now included several beings that were not human. I was one of them. Now I could trace the disturbing truth to a more logical conclusion. My mother had died giving birth to me while still strapped down in the deepest pit of an insane asylum. She was said to be manic and delusional.

Part of me had always suspected I came from something other. The fragments of her story had never made a lick of sense to me. Now they were fitting together. She was hiding there because she was something other herself, or she was hiding from something that had impregnated her. I needed to dig into this. I needed to see her files. Part of my past was connected to the present. I knew it, and I merely wished it were not the case.

This would be a hard topic to broach with my rents. They were amazing adoptive parents. They have never once displayed anything less than absolute love for me. I am not treated like an orphan girl merely sharing their house. They love me and are attentive to my needs as if I were their very own flesh and blood. They had fallen in love with me at the hospital after I was taken away. My birth mom was Japanese, so a mixed Asian and white baby had been perfect for a Chinese man and an Irish woman. The Graves family are mostly still back home in Dublin, Ireland. Dad took on mom’s name mainly because his own family had excommunicated him for moving to the US to take a dream job working as an investment banker. My daddy is great with numbers and even better at helping people to wisely invest for their futures.

None of what I would have to discuss with them would be easy. They loved me so much, and they gave me everything. I felt guilty to even mention my bio-mom to them. Like it was a b***h-smack to my mother’s face. Madeline Graves is the woman who raised me, and nothing changed that fact. Regardless of how or why I was born, I knew this simple truth.

“Hello, earth to Hannah!”

Clarke said loudly next to my ear. I jumped in place as I was suddenly “awakened” back to reality.

“Loud, so loud dude!”

I complained and shoved him back playfully. He rolled his eyes and feigned injury.

“Man, you work a brotha over! So damn mean all the time!”

He exaggerated. I growled at him like an angry feral kitten. Clarke’s amusement peaked as my annoyance ramped. He was very much like a sibling to me and even derived joy in annoying the hell out of me!

“Oh please, you love me. You still owe me for hiding all your p**n and locking your PC up that time your ex came over without warning.”

I reminded him and shot him a cheesy, cocky smile. I did not believe in enabling men, but Clarke was a kind soul, just a bit misguided like the rest of his gender. He leaned in closer, almost like he feared his mother had developed super-hearing suddenly.

“Hey, we agreed never to speak on that again!”

He said excitedly, and I smiled.

“You agreed, I merely said nothing one way or the other if memory serves me.”

Clarke looked like a little kid with his fingers caught in the cookie jar on some outdated Saturday morning TV show. I was enjoying watching him squirm since it was my right and my duty to all of womankind. That way he would hopefully have his bad habits beaten senseless from him by the time I hoped to marry him off to whomever he spent the rest of his life with. It was a lofty ambition of mine, but sue me, I did have much hope for Clarke.

“Come on Hannah don’t bring that up. What if my momma overhears this?!”

Clarke said, looking around extra paranoid. I sniggered at him.

I giggled, and for a second it felt like we were only a few teens. Our world was innocent, limitless and open to all the possibilities of the future. What we were missing was not so transparent to us in this singular moment. However, death reverberates deeply and infinitely.

“Fine, I’ll be nice. Just remember that the next time you go on one of your rants about how abused you are by your female bestie.”

I said, Clarke nodded sagely. His spirits seemed improved. My heartfelt a tad bit lighter. Our darkness and our fears were not gone or magically answered in some manner, but our connection could momentarily push back against everything that troubled us.

“I know it will murder the mood, but I was just thinking about how I have to talk to my rents about my bio mom.”

Clarke’s eyes widened. He gave me a firm hand squeeze to reassure me.

“s**t, no wonder you appeared so lost in your own mind. That’s some heavy ass s**t to dredge up. And, we all know adoptive parents have this built-in weakness for their kids bringing up the bio rents. It’s like they're all made with that same design flaw.”

Clarke said. I harrumphed in frustration.

“Tell me about it! I mean, a girl can compartmentalize her feelings. I am more than able to love them while processing how I feel about the woman who died giving me life. It’s not an either-or situation.”

I replied agreeing with him.

“Well, just keep in mind that they are just insecure because they are old, and they love you.”

I gave him a mischievous look and smirked with a knowing smile.

“Are you trying to sound like a cast member from some teen show?”

Clarke looked away and made a muffled sound of denial.

“Not exactly, just trying it on for size, you know, kickin’ the ties so to speak.”

I rolled my eyes at him. He distracted me from the grim task ahead. I knew that I had to go home, and I had to learn about my birth mother. I also had to give Clarke more time to dig into these so-called haunts and wraiths. One can only imagine the amount of raw data on the web when mining for actual ghostly beings. I finally understood why all the quacks who searched for ghosts are called ghost hunters. Because they had to hunt for a scrap of genuine evidence amidst the endless garbage that was the BS on the net. I’d always just attributed that title to overly ambitious nerds seeking glory.

“Well, divide and conquer, and all that jazz, dude. I’ll come back and give you all the deets once I know the sitch. Just don’t print out any of these quack-o theories without vetting them first. Your task seems even more likely to end up with you in the psych ward than mine, and well, I was born there!”

Clarke seemed almost amused at the layered joke and warning. I was far more worried he would attempt to seek these haunt things without me around. So I added, “Dude, try to figure out what weaknesses they might have. Something has kept them away from you while I was in jail. Try to figure that or just figure out why they did not follow me, to begin with. They have unfinished business with us both.”

My rant ended as Clarke clapped his hands down firmly on my shoulders and he shook me gently.

“Girl, you do you, leave the ghosting to the Clarke.”

I crinkled my nose in disgust and gave him a slow shake of disapproval.

“Never third person, not again!”

I told him, and he had the good sense–for once—to accept my police criticism. It was nice having a friend with who I could still feel my age, despite all that was going wrong around us. Clarke was loyal and working towards our first solution to the many problems facing us.

I felt guilty as hell leaving him out of the loop where the mysterious detective was concerned. However, I felt like there was something more than human shared between myself and her. She was not exactly like me, but power was resonant between us, something well beyond the hormones and s*x I had also felt, which only inflamed matters more for me.

“Right, well you slink that little behind of yours back to your momma now.”

Clarke said. I narrowed my eyes at him, letting him know how thin his ice was getting. He seemed to be too amused with himself to realize he was seconds away from a flying fist to a soft portion of his anatomy.

“Well, me and my behind are out of here. I’ll text you when I can, and I’ll meet back here once the rents settle down for the night.”

I instructed him. He nodded his understanding.

“Aight, just take it easy on them. You might get more that way. You do it all Hannah Graves style and they might clam up on you from the start.”

Clarke warned me. I felt the surge of hostility and insult rushing through me. But a twin feeling adjoined, a feeling of how accurate he was at his assessment. Clarke was a great friend, as I keep saying. He is observant for a straight guy. He really keeps my hope for his species alive most days—not that I am a completely sexist lesbian cliché trope or anything!

“Well, good luck with the inter-webs, there, buddy, you’re gonna need it.”

I sassed. Clarke gave me a middle-finger salute as I hopped out his window, giggling like an i***t.