Read Online Spirit’s Key by Edith Cohn - Free Book Online Page B

burn. I haven’t swum this fast, well, ever. I’m not sure if we’re running from something or toward it, but the water is in my way. The water is between me and Sky. I work hard to close the gap.
    Sky hears better than me, always could. But as I stand up in the shallow waves, I hear it, too. Shrieking. Bloody murder for real.
    The undertow has pulled me far away from where the Hatterask kids were playing. I tear down the beach after Sky toward them. Yasmine and Gomez wave their arms in the air, jumping up and down like they’re trying to flag a boat in the ocean far away. Unless they can see Sky bounding toward them, the boat must be me.
    Sky gets to them before I do, and the three of them look like they are doing some kind of dance together. I don’t think they can see Sky, but it’s eerie the circle the three of them make. But not as eerie as what’s in its center. A crumpled heap of wet fur, a wet-dog smell so pungent there’s no doubt it’s real.
    Sky howls the howl of the dead. A deep rumbling wail of sadness.
    Lifeless. The other baldie looks like Sky did. I marvel that he lies only a few sand dunes away from Sky’s grave. As if he knew this was a baldie graveyard.
    â€œScared the creepers out of us!” Yasmine says, her voice high-pitched and breathless. “I thought it was alive.”
    How she could ever think this poor crumpled dog was alive is beyond me. That she would truly be scared if he were? Even more unimaginable.
    â€œDo you have a lighter?” Gomez asks. “We could drag him to the water. Send him out.”
    â€œWe should bury him,” I say.
    They stare at me like I’ve suggested stringing him in a tree.
    â€œI thought you’d want to help,” Yasmine says. “I thought you liked the baldies.”
    â€œI love them.” Sky’s howl of pain for his relative is my howl.
    â€œBurying is bad,” Gomez says. “Even for a baldie.”
    â€œEspecially for a baldie,” Yasmine says.
    â€œThat’s ridiculous,” I say.
    Yasmine shrugs like she doesn’t care if a dingbatter believes her or not.
    â€œWhat about all the baldies that die in the woods? Do you go looking for them to make sure their devil spirits are burned?”
    â€œIf it dies in the woods, it’s okay,” Yasmine explains. “That’s its home, and we stay out of there. But this baldie doesn’t belong here.” She grabs one of the dog’s legs, and Gomez grabs his head. They pull the animal toward the ocean, united in blood and beliefs.
    With Sky’s spirit howling beside me, I wonder if there’s something to what Yasmine said. I buried Sky instead of burning him. I don’t think he’s a devil spirit, but his spirit is here, instead of wherever spirits usually go. Is he really my gift, or is he here for some other reason?
    â€œOkay, I’ll help.” I run over to them and take the part of the animal that’s dragging in the sand. I study the dog for signs of how he died, but he doesn’t have any visible wounds. Like he was lured to sea and drowned. Were you lured, too, Sky?
    Sky stops howling and follows us to the water, sniffing the sand as if for clues. It’s not unusual to find dead animals on the beach—crabs, jellyfish, the occasional dolphin—especially after a storm. But a baldie? Yasmine’s right. He doesn’t belong here.
    â€œWhat if you found a dead fish? Do you have to burn it?” I ask.
    Gomez cracks up and rolls his eyes at Yasmine. “Now who’s being ridiculous?”
    I’m not sure what’s so funny, or if that’s a yes or a no. Maybe a no since I’ve never seen anyone on the beach burning fish. I guess the ocean is where fish live, so it’s okay?
    â€œI’ll go get a lighter and a pallet.” Gomez runs off. The sun has finished setting, and it’s dark. I watch him leave. The only part of him I can still see is