Chapter one

Tessa

A bird without legs must always fly.

Theodore Black, PhD, Powwaw Speak: Shamanic Wisdom of the Irrakish

“Do you think it’s possible to fall in love with a ghost?” This from a slender blonde woman, who spoke to her companion in a smoky voice that seemed a little low-timbre for her pixyish face and haircut.

“Why, have you?” The dark-haired female at her side sounded pleased. Her voice was higher, almost shrill.

“Kind of... I’ve been reading my grandmother’s journal.”

Jane’s lips, dark against her creamy complexion, parted in a grin. “Hooray! I would much rather see you with a dead guy than Ted Black any day. Can’t imagine what you see in that troll.”

Her words, caught in the stiff breeze that tried to push them backwards as they walked along Wharf Lane, reached the ears of the teenagers following them. One of the boys, a youth with the shoulders of a fullback, grinned and elbowed his partner. But neither spoke.

More conversation drifted back. The tall woman, Dr. Tessa Kivelson, spoke again. “Really, Jane. Ted is a brilliant researcher, very witty, experienced...”

“I’ll say. He has at least thirty extra birthdays on you. Practically old enough to be your...”

“It’s twenty-two years, and he looks very young for his age. I know you don’t like Ted, but you might as well deal with it. He and Iare getting married.” The blonde’s tone was affectionate. “But you know you’ll always be my best friend.”

Jane grimaced. “Not for long. Turdy Black will see to that. He wants you all to himself.”

One of the boys, hearing their anthropology professor described in such colorful terms, had to stifle a sudden giggle. The blonde turned her head sharply, but they had already ducked into the darkened doorway of a warehouse. The smaller of the two spoke in a furious whisper. “Keep it down, Tree. Do you want them to hear us?”

Tree glanced around the corner at the retreating backs of their quarry. He shook his head firmly. “Course not. Come on, they’re gonna get to the alleyway before we do.”

The smaller boy, Stan, sprinted with all the fleet grace of a running back towards the next cross street. Tree followed more slowly, huffing and puffing. Once they turned the corner, Stan whispered, “Don’t be an idiot. Those chicks won’t see us coming. All we have to do is climb over the fence into the container yard, and then drop into the back of Provedore’s. We can cut them off easy.”

Tree grunted in agreement as he hauled his bulk up the chain link fence that enclosed the wharf yards. Stan dropped over easily, avoiding the rusty barbed wire slung along the top.

Tree’s clothing caught. He wobbled precariously on the top before a ripping sound accompanied