Free Delia's Shadow by Jaime Lee Moyer

Gabe toyed with his spoon again, absently spinning it in circles on the tablecloth. “Before the quake and fire, a maze of alleys ran behind buildings from one block to another. Nothing good ever happened in those alleys once the sun set.”
    Shadow drifted closer to Gabe, hovering at his shoulder. She’d lost the shawl and the neat plaits on top of her head were bedraggled, strands trailing down her neck and into her face. Muddy smudges soiled her blouse and a bruise darkened one side of her jaw. Her hand clamped around the cross at her throat, tugging until the chain pulled tight. She stared into my eyes and opened her mouth as if to speak. Shadow began to unravel, threads of mist drifting away until there was nothing left.
    Gabe’s breath hitched in his throat and he shivered. I trembled, too, wondering if she’d touched him in passing and if he’d felt her die.
    He squared his shoulders and went back to his story. “You never knew what you’d find in those alleys. All of them were bad, but there was one in particular that made my skin crawl. I hated going in that alley.”
    Sadie pulled closer to Jack, the bright eagerness gone from her face. “Why was that?”
    “It was haunted, sweetheart.” Jack toyed with the peacock feather on her hat. His matter-of-fact tone didn’t match the frown he gave Gabe. “We always heard and saw odd things on nights the fog was heavy. Sometimes I’d hear a scream or glimpse a woman running from the middle of the alley toward the docks. She’d always disappear before she got to the street and I was never sure I’d really seen her. Once or twice I thought I saw the shadow of someone behind her. For the longest time I thought the fog was to blame. Sound can carry a long way and it’s easy to mistake what you see. Then Gabe admitted he saw odd things, too.”
    “I need some air.” I shoved back my chair and stood, dropping the crumpled napkin on the floor and rocking the table. Water sloshed out of my glass, dampness spreading in a dark circle. “Please excuse me. I … I need air.”
    Waiters dodged out of my path, heavy trays laden with food tipping precariously. Sadie called my name and people turned from their dinners to stare, but I didn’t stop.
    I couldn’t. I’d be sick if I stayed inside. Pushing through the door to outside was a relief.
    My coat and handbag were still at the table. An icy wind off the bay sliced through my dress of summer cottons and tried to carry off my hat. Gooseflesh rose in concert with deep muscle tremors. I huddled over my knees on a bench near the door, hugging myself tight and gulping mouthfuls of chill air. Cold forced back the nausea, sparing me still more disgrace. I shut my eyes, rehearsing what I’d say when I went back inside.
    Footsteps slowed and halted in front of me. I opened my eyes enough to see black calf-length boots, gray trousers neatly tucked into the tops, and the bottom of a wool coat. The man continued to stand there and I imagined him staring. Ignoring him was rude, I knew that, but I was in no mood to engage in conversation with strangers. I kept my head bowed and hoped he’d leave.
    Hinges on the café door squealed and the black boots hurried away. I lifted my head, expecting to see Sadie come to take me back. Instead Gabe Ryan stood there, my coat clutched in one hand and a goblet of water in the other. I sighed and sat up straight. The odds of a pit opening up to swallow me were slim, but I wished on the brightest star overhead, just in case.
    Gabe handed me the water and draped the coat around my shoulders. “Are you all right?”
    “Aside from dying of embarrassment, I’m fine.” Sipping cold water settled my stomach, chasing away the last shaky, queasy feeling. “You’ve caught me on a very bad night. I don’t usually make dramatic exits from restaurants, either.”
    He sat next to me, blocking the worst of the wind. “I can’t help but feel this is my fault. I upset you with that story. I’m very