She Smells the Dead

  Praise for the Spirit Guide Series

  by E.J. Stevens

  She Smells the Dead

  "She Smells the Dead provides something new and fresh to the YA realm."

  -Stacey, Flippin' Fabulous: A Reader's Record

  "This series is like Nancy Drew meets the Winchester Brother's from Supernatural."

  -Natalie, I'd So Rather Be Reading

  "I absolutely loved every last delicious page of She Smells the Dead!"

  -Mary, Sparkling Reviews

  "If you love ghosts, Goths, and a little bit of YA romance, you will want to check this book out."

  -Yvonne, Diva's Bookcase

  “Great YA Paranormal Romance.”

  -Were Vamps Romance

  Spirit Storm

  "Part mystery, part adventure, part romance and all the things a reader wants."

  -Mechele, Read For Your Future

  "Fans of Rachel Hawkins Hex Hall Series and Lauren Kate's Fallen Series will love this!"

  -Kristen, Seeing Night Reviews

  "These characters are so unique and fun to follow."

  -Amber, The Musings of Alymbnenr

  "I haven't read a truly great YA paranormal in more years than I can remember, and Ms. Stevens delivers the most well written tale imaginable!"

  -Tamela Quijas, At Your Fingertips

  Also by E.J. Stevens

  SPIRIT GUIDE SERIES

  Spirit Storm

  Legend of Witchtrot Road (October 4, 2011)

  Brush with Death (Coming 2012)

  DARK POETRY COLLECTIONS

  From the Shadows

  Shadows of Myth and Legend

  She Smells the Dead

  E.J. Stevens

  Published by Sacred Oaks Press at Smashwords

  Copyright © 2010 E.J. Stevens

  All rights reserved

  Publisher’s Note

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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  copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Prologue

  I can smell the dead. I know, you hear of people with superhuman paranormal powers and you think, how cool is that but there is nothing cool about smelling the dead. I mean it could be worse I suppose. The dead don’t smell like rotting corpses, usually. It’s often more of a symbolic smell. “Smell Impressions” as my friend Calvin likes to call them. Ugh. I know, again with the uncoolness. You have no idea.

  Imagine biting into your favorite veggie burger loaded up with ketchup and suddenly smelling rotten eggs. Heck, my biggest fear is finally kissing Garrett Hamlin, the guy I’ve been drooling over since 8th grade, and smelling something awful. Like skunk butt or sweaty gym socks. I. Would. Die.

  So yeah. My name is Vanessa Stennings but I go by Yuki. When you’re a kid the name Nessie gets you teased and Vee for victory takes on a whole new meaning when you reach high school and all the boys can think about is getting lucky. So I picked Yuki. It means snow or a snow covered village which, considering all the snow we get here in Maine, seems fitting. I didn’t pick it for that reason though. I decided on Yuki because the smell of freshly falling snow is a clean, beautiful smell and if I’m anything, it’s ruled by smells.

  Of course I hadn’t realized that a few jocks would start calling me Yucky, but heck, they’re jocks. It’s not like I acknowledge their existence anyway. We live in different worlds. They are obsessed with muscles and fart jokes--and I smell the dead.

  Chapter 1

  I was staring at my black nail polish which was now chewed around the edges and wondering if I now had black flecks in my teeth. Great. It was only second period of the first day of school and I was already a nervous wreck. How was I ever going to survive an entire school year when I couldn’t even make it through one day?

  Vinegar. Strong, pungent apple cider vinegar. It made my mouth water and my eyes burn. The smell also made me think of dyeing Easter eggs as a kid. Funny how smell could take you back inside a memory. But this wasn’t a real smell, unless one of my classmates was wearing eau du pickles; it was a smell impression.

  I was sitting in second period English class and I was smelling dead people. Groovy. Maybe I was being haunted by the Ghost of Easter Past. Let’s not go there. The Easter Bunny always did creep me out with his gigantic teeth and wide-eyed permagrin. Yeah Yuki, let’s not go there.

  Trying my best to take notes while my eyes were watering would at least keep my mind off Mr. Pickle Pants. There wasn’t much I could do for him until I got out of school for the day. The smelly dead dude would just have to wait.

  Chapter 2

  I had changed into comfy yoga pants and my favorite hoodie and was now ready to tackle the mystery of my new smelly friend. I grabbed my laptop, notebook, and pen and plumped my nest of pillows up at the top of my bed. I might as well make myself comfortable. I had learned over summer vacation that these hauntings would stop when I figured out what the ghost wanted. The problem was that all I had to go on was a smell impression and it’s not like I had a fancy CSI lab for analyzing clues. I had one clue, a strong vinegar smell, and no idea where to begin. I was probably going to be smelling vinegar for the rest of my life. Might as well get on with it.

  My research methods were extremely advanced. I Googled vinegar. I then tried limiting the search parameters to include Maine and exclude recipes. Amazing detective work I know. I scrolled through page after page until I felt like my eyes were bleeding. I was about to close the search window when a link caught my attention. It was to an obituary in Maine that included the word vinegar. Indubitably.

  My heart started racing and I suddenly felt dizzy. I probably shouldn’t have skipped both lunch and dinner, but you try eating when everything smells like vinegar. If this lead panned out I might be able to eat a late night snack and if not, then I would just have to stop and grab some salt and vinegar chips on the way to school tomorrow. With a plan in place I tried to refocus on the computer screen.

  Obituaries

  Jackson Green, 81 was laid to rest today in Pine Hill cemetery outside Sansborough Maine. Jackson is survived by his wife Grace. He was predeceased by his three sons, Richard Green, Jonathan Green, and Samuel Green, who passed away in a tragic boating accident this past June. Jackson Green was CEO of the Green Orchards Apple Cider Vinegar Company. His fortune was to be left to his wife Grace Green, however, his last will and testament seems to have been misplaced some time just before his death. Anyone with information regarding the whereabouts of Mr. Green’s Will is asked to please contact the local Sansborough police department.

  I jumped as I heard a knock and my bedroom door opened. Maybe I was just a little jittery.

  Calvin stood there leaning against the doorway with his thumbs in his jean pockets and his shaggy
brown hair hanging in his eyes. “Hey Yuki. You seemed kind of down at school today. Thought I’d stop by to cheer you up,” he said with a wry grin. “Your mom let me in.”

  Of course she did. My mom loved Calvin.

  For a second I was glad that I had changed into my hoodie and yoga pants and not into my girlie pajamas when I realized I was worried about what I looked like in front of Calvin. This haunting really did have me messed up. I started to smile nonchalantly as Cal walked in and tossed his backpack on my bed. It was then that I saw what he was pulling out of it. Oh no, not another dung beetle plushie. He was never going to let me live this down. Ever.

  “Thought this might cheer you up,” he said as he set it atop my laptop.

  You suck Calvin Miller. You suck times ten. The beetle plushie was an inside joke and a way to tease me that Calvin never tired of.

  Calvin was very Zen and into all things mystical. Heck, maybe that was why he was always following me around. A few years back he decided we should go to a Shamanism retreat and discover our spirit animals. At first I dismissed the idea as one of Calvin’s hokey hair brained ideas. Right up until he called me shallow and incapable of spiritual awakening or some other mumbo jumbo. So yeah, I went to Shaman Camp.

  Calvin was in hippie Heaven and I was, of course, in total Hell. It was muddy and buggy and everyone wanted to hold hands and be one with each other, or mother earth, or something. I just wanted to crawl inside myself and disappear. He got to sit there cross-legged in his cargo shorts and hemp necklace looking all tanned and buff and dirty while I was sweating in my layers of black skirts, tights, and long sleeve tee. At least I had my 14-eye boots on. There was mud everywhere.

  My plan was to stick around until the animal totem workshop ceremony thing was over and then find a way home, fast. I was supposed to lay in the mud and journey on my spirit animal, or power animal as some of the guys were calling it, but since I refused I ended up picking drying mud off my Doc Martens while the head shaman dude had a vision and declared my spirit animal to be a beetle. What? He went on about the beetle representing resurrection. Something about how in ancient Egypt the scarab beetle would form a piece of ox dung into a ball, then fill it with eggs, and roll it from East to West. Uhm hello, gross? The beetle would then wait a month and dig up her ball of kiddoes and toss it into water where the little beetle babes would hatch. Beetles tossing egg filled poo into water in Egypt? This couldn’t be my spirit animal, right? Or maybe I was just in de-Nile.

  So ever since Shaman Camp Calvin would bring up my fab spirit animal as the dung beetle and I would remind him it was the sacred scarab, though if I were honest with myself even that sounded lame. What kind of universe would shackle me with such a crappy (o.k. go ahead and laugh) spirit animal? What made the whole situation even worse were the spirit animals that everyone else got. The girl named Sky received an eagle, some guy with dreads a tiger, a red haired girl ended up with a fox, and Calvin a wolf. Of course Calvin would receive something über cool like a wolf, but did I have to end up with a dung beetle? It just wasn’t fair.

  So I glared at the beetle plushie and grumbled, “sacred scarab” at the same moment Calvin said, “dung beetle.”

  I sighed, rolling my eyes to my bedroom ceiling, and asked, “I’m never going to win this one am I?”

  “Nope. Never,” he replied, so quickly I knew he had been waiting for the question. “So you tuned into your Smellavision?” he asked casually.

  Was he worried about me? Nah. Calvin just liked to goad me and he knew how much my newfound paranormal power bothered me. “Oh yeah, in full Technosmellor,” I quipped, only to inwardly groan. Technosmellor? What was up with me today? There was something seriously wrong with my head.

  “If you don’t help me before I have to skip another meal, I’ll be the ghost and I’ll come back to haunt you,” I said with one hand on my hip and the other pointing at his chest.

  Calvin leaned in inches from my face, with my finger now pressing against his chest, wearing a lazy grin. “I could only wish for that kind of haunting. You smell like strawberries Yuki. Who wouldn’t want to be haunted by you?”

  His eyes were so blue. Wait, what? Was he teasing me or was he serious? Then with those gorgeous blue eyes, had they always been that shade of blue, he winked at me and pulled away. What the heck did that mean? Was Calvin Miller flirting with me? No way. He was just a friend, an annoying friend who liked to tease me. That’s all it was. Cal was just teasing me. No big. Right.

  “It doesn’t work like that,” I claimed. At least I didn’t think it did. God, I was such a mess! I couldn’t think straight. I jumped up off the bed and starting pacing my bedroom floor. I just needed to stretch my legs, right? Sure. “This is what I have so far,” I said pushing my laptop towards him and accidentally knocking the beetle plushie to the floor behind the bed. “It’s a weird coincidence, isn’t it?” I asked as I resumed my pacing. “This vinegar smell impression and a dead guy with some big vinegar empire inheritance scandal?” O.k. I was probably exaggerating a bit, but the pieces did all seem to fall together. Peeking at Calvin out of the corner of my eye I nearly tripped over my own feet. Slick Yuki, real slick. Fortunately he seemed too focused on reading the obituary to notice.

  “Yuki, you have plans after school tomorrow?” Calvin turned to me and asked.

  How does he raise one brow like that? Does he practice in the mirror?

  “Nope, no plans yet,” I said flipping my hair as I looked at him over my shoulder. I can use cool poses too Calvin Miller.

  “Good we can take my truck and head out to this farm after school,” he said as he stood up and stretched showing a bit of tanned washboard abs.

  Not that I was looking.

  “I’ll check the online maps when I get home and sketch out some directions. Don’t forget to eat. You’re looking even more pale than usual,” he said as he grabbed his backpack and sauntered out the door.

  At a loss for what to say, I nearly thanked him for the beetle plushie. I was so not doing that. “Uhm, sure. See you tomorrow,” I said to his receding back. Son of a dung beetle. He had made me feel like an idiot, again.

  Chapter 3

  Senior year day two. Only a gazillion more days to go.

  “Witch,” Jay Freeman sniped at me as he pushed past me in the hall, nearly dumping the contents of my backpack. He said it like he was spitting out something foul tasting.

  Whatever.

  Some of the J-team jocks and cheerleader bimbettes started calling me that Freshman year. It was lame then and it was beyond lame now. If they only knew. I had never practiced witchcraft, though what I knew of Wicca and herb lore from Calvin was pretty cool, but try explaining that to the J-team.

  Freshman year I bought this silver evil eye pendant. Calvin was with me at the time, shopping in this little import store in Portland, and he said it was for good luck. I thought it looked kind of creepy with my all black ensemble, so I bought it and put it on right there in the store. Plus, who couldn’t use some good luck?

  I was still wearing it when Jared Zempter fell on his face in front of me while playing basketball in gym class. I’ve always been uncomfortable in the gym. It was like a pedestal for jocks to strut their stuff. Gag me. So I was fidgeting with my necklace while sitting on the bench wearing my faded Depeche Mode t-shirt and ripped skull tights. I wasn’t even paying attention to the class, which just made the situation worse. Jared and his friends claimed that I was in a trance, how embarrassing, and using my evil eye pendant to channel my dark powers. Great.

  By the time I changed out of my gym clothes and ran to the cafeteria for lunch, the J-team had spread rumors to the entire school.

  “So Yuki, I hear you killed a cat for a blood sacrifice and called upon the powers of Satan to make Jared Zempter trip in gym class,” Calvin said as I set my lunch tray on the table.

  “Yeah, it couldn’t possibly have had anything to do with his sneaker laces being untied,” I grumbled. I pushed food around on
my plate making little food sculptures wondering if anyone would even remember all this by the next day. Apparently they had.

  Could this day get much worse? Wait. I should never tempt fate by asking that question. Things can always get worse. I must have lousy karma. What could I have been in my last life that would cause such horrible luck for me now? Probably a dung beetle. I started to laugh, but then realized I didn’t need to give the J-team more fodder for making fun of me. With my luck they’d snap a picture of me laughing to myself in the hall and it would end up in the school paper. I can see the headline now, “Evil Witch Yuki laughs maniacally while communing with her spirit minions.” I guess it wouldn’t be that far from the truth. I may not be able to speak to spirits but I could smell the dead.

  “Hey! Yuki-sama,” Gordan Avery said as he ran up to me. Gordy was in the anime club with me and thought I was some kind of hero for changing my name to Yuki.

  “Cal gave me another dung beetle plushie last night,” I said gravely.

  “Want me to take him out for you?” Gordy asked in his hit-man gruff voice.

  “Nah, I was thinking of bringing him to anime club next week though,” I said and laughed. I couldn’t keep a straight face for long while talking to Gordy.