Date: 2011-04-02 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Urban Fantasy; Vampires; Paranormal; Supernatural; Fantasy; Ghosts; Horror; Zombies; Dark Fantasy; Contemporary
Description: Small-town life can be hard for a dead girl... For Veronica Fischer the night to night life of a bloodsucking madam in Middle America is tough enough before she adopts Rachel Gregory, an eight year old ghost. After her house is set on fire, and Rachel disappears, all signs point to foul play. When she finds herself with a hit out on her unlife, and warrants for her arrest, it becomes clear she's going to need help. Now she has to contend with horny zombies, violent spirits, and murderous grave robbers if she's ever going to find Rachel and discover the awful truth of the coming storm. A raucou
Publisher: Witless Fiction

BLOOD & SPIRITS

DENNIS SHARPE

Booktrope Editions

Seattle, WA 2014

COPYRIGHT 2014 DENNIS SHARPE

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License.

Attribution — You must attribute the work in the manner specified by the author or licensor (but not in any way that suggests that they endorse you or your use of the work).

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No Derivative Works — You may not alter, transform, or build upon this work.

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should be directed to: info@booktrope.com

Cover Design by Shari Ryan

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.

PRINT ISBN 978-1-62015-595-0

EPUB ISBN 978-1-62015-616-2

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014922268

TABLE OF CONTENTS

COVER
TITLE PAGE
DEDICATION
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
QUOTES
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
MORE GREAT READS FROM BOOKTROPE

For Erin McGavic -

You took Veronica,
held on to her tightly,
and never let go.

I can’t thank you enough.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

To all the people who helped me make this book as good as could possibly be.

Angela, Becca, Britton, Carrie, Doug, Karson, Lesley, Nikki, Roger, Ryan, the other Ryan, Shawna, Tammy, Ian, Mitchell, Theresa, Teresa, and countless others who’ve helped me, pushed me, or said the hard things I didn’t want to hear.

I thank you for reading drafts, and re-reading drafts, editing advice, and just being cheerleaders and drinking coffee with me in the wee hours of the morning when I needed it, as well as making me see that some things just aren’t as important as I make them.

Special thanks to Krystal, Samantha, and Shari… simply the best there are to work with.

Seriously, and with much love, thank you all.

"The fair girl went on her knees and bent over me, fairly gloating. There was a deliberate voluptuousness which was both thrilling and repulsive, and as she arched her neck she actually licked her lips like an animal... I could feel the soft, shivering touch of the lips on the supersensitive skin of my throat, and the hard dents of two sharp teeth, just touching and pausing there."

- BRAM STOKER

“I have an idea that the phrase "weaker sex" was coined by some woman to disarm some man she was preparing to overwhelm.”

- OGDEN NASH

PROLOGUE

THE YEAR IS NINETEEN FIFTY-THREE. The sky is a deeper blue, and the world is generally a better place.

A little girl plays on the grassy front lawn of a small house on Summit Drive. She has a cute face and a winning smile, even if she does tend to be a little overly plain tomboy. Her red hair is in pig-tails, and her shorts are rolled up to keep them from being as dirty as her mud-coated legs. She is a happy child.

A dark sedan pulls up in the driveway, and a man in a well-pressed uniform gets out, puts on his hat, and makes his way to her front door.

She stops playing to look at his uniform and marvel at how much better it looks than her daddy’s.

The officer talks to her mommy on the porch for a moment, but she can’t hear what they’re saying. A feeling of dread comes over her as her mommy leans against the doorway, crying. Whatever it was must be horrible; her mommy doesn’t ever cry.

Everything unravels for the little girl. From that moment on, nothing can ever be the same.

She goes to daddy’s funeral in the most beautiful dress she’s ever seen; this gorgeous thing given to her to cover the ugliest loss of her life. Everything that has been her world quickly disappears. Her only memories of a normal life will all be from before the age of eight.

***

My body jerks up to a sitting position as the tight muscles of my limbs spasm. Instinctively, air forces its way into my tightened lungs, the panic ebbs, but calm refuses to replace it. Another nightmare, but not just any bad dream. My memories had come back to haunt me.

The year is 2012. I keep reminding myself of that as I ease back down into the reassuring pillow top, already beginning to drift off again.

Kathy, that little girl, was me once upon a time. She was small and weak before Jules found her. He took her in, changed her, and gave her strength.

He killed Kathy. What he left was Veronica. He made me.

I have no regrets.

CHAPTER 1

I’M TOLD IT’S AN ODDITY that I still sleep. It only comes in short bursts, no more than forty-five minutes at a time. Most others with my condition -- and I have only known a handful -- tell me they don’t sleep anymore. Some of them haven’t in more than five decades. I can’t imagine the hell that must be. Even in my brief moments of rest, I still dream and in that I find relief. Even if the dreams aren’t what I like, they are still an escape.

The soft thickness of my comforter envelops me as I relax back into bed. Before I’m completely awake, my mind begins to unfold, opening to the world around me. In the distance, the fog is rolling in off the river, dense and blanketing, its vaporous fingers right there on the edges of my consciousness. The night is cool, and the last lights of the dying day dance across my ceiling, reflected from the crystals hanging in my window. The light tinkle as they sway into each other is a reassuring sound; the beautiful prisms they cast, a blessing. Not one night comes that I don’t wake to thank Jules for having the windows in this house ‘treated.’ I can actually see the sun, even if I can’t be out in it.

I am now completely aware for miles around me. I’m awake, and not even grudgingly so. Not tonight. He’ll be here soon. I look forward to it and fear it all at once, but I ask myself ‘why dwell on what we can’t change?’

A soft breeze blows across me as I slip out of my bed, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand out. My mind recognizes the sensation as a chill, even if my dead flesh can’t feel as it once did.

Rubbing a hand down from the base of my skull, in a futile attempt to warm myself, I open the lid to the old steamer trunk Julie brought up from the basement today. She aired out everything in it while I slept, and the interior smells as though she even put some of my perfume on a few of the choice garments. I breathe in deeply and can feel the corner of my mouth turns up slightly. Time may have dulled Jules’ scent, but it’s still unmistakable, mingled in with the fragrance in the clothing.

Clothes have always held memories for me. The crimson silk of a dress drops down over me and it’s as though his eyes were on me again. The mirror reveals the garment to be no more out of place, for its slinky cut or lack of length, than it did when I first wore it a lifetime ago, when I could still remember being a girl. I first put it on in front of him and twirled around to raise the hem, hoping to entice and astonish with my feminine wiles, foolish enough back then to believe that because I loved him, a creature like him was even still capable of love.

I’ve learned from his example and years of my own mistakes – emotion is a weakness to be managed.

Yet, here I am, slipping into this dress that I haven’t worn since he left, simply because I know he’ll remember it.

Stepping out into the thick evening air, the raw power of the river hits me with the force of a freight train. Even from this distance, the power is unmistakable. Tonight, though, it has an odd feeling, as though it were restrained.

Standing still with my eyes closed, I concentrate and listen to the pulse of the water rolling heavily over the rocky bed, feel the lapping, almost angry waves against the shoreline. I don’t know why closing my eyes helps me bond to my surroundings, it just always has. It must be another facet of my insanity.

I’ve never met someone with my affliction that was as sane as they had been when they were alive. I wasn’t ever all that sane, either, but I’ve grown more detached as time has gone by. Too often these days, I feel like a spectator. Maybe that’s just my coping mechanism. My therapist would love to know about this fabulous train of thought. Prick.

As I enter the garage, it occurs to me that I’ve only got two cars at this house. Frank was to take Julie back to town with the Charger this afternoon to keep up the appearance that everything was normal. I’m certainly not taking my old Volkswagen Beetle to go bar hunting, so the flat black Eclipse will get a workout tonight. I hate this car, but she’s been fast enough to outrun a lot of demons I didn’t feel like facing.

Pulling out of the driveway, I already wish I’d stayed at the other house today. The drive into town is only thirty minutes, but I’m tense enough tonight and don’t need the wait. Telling myself that I needed to be here, for safety’s sake, only makes me feel more upset at my fear and lack of control.

Six months ago, I’d have talked to Lucy; she’d have taken the edge off. If she were here, though, I’d have had no need to contact Jules. Now I get to feel like a failure and look like one, too.

The tires scream as I kick the car almost sideways, narrowly avoiding a deer. My lack of focus is getting worse. As much as the idea repulses me, tonight I’m actually going to have to go look for food instead of letting it come to me. I haven’t had to do that in years. On one hand, it’s a fitting start to the night, but on the other, I had really thought I’d outgrown eating out.

I always forget how much sensory input I lose when I spend time around all the steel and pavement. The dark moonless drive down rural roads is a blessing, putting me more in tune with the land, at once one with the leaves on the trees, the bats overhead, and the rocks around the base of the roadside.

The sound of the insects in the high grass is comforting. Their flittering finds my ears even over the engine noise. They are mine as much as everything else here; as much as I am a part of them. It took more than twenty years to reach this level of awareness, and I’m still not foolish enough to believe I’ve mastered it.

I used to be able to spend time expanding my mind. I used to do a lot of things I haven’t been able to do lately. Everything has devolved so fast and I’m still reeling.

The past year I’ve been so caught up in the life of a dead girl, I’ve dealt with little else.

Rachel died eighteen months ago at the ripe old age of eight; I met her after that. She was hanging around the Jefferson House, where my girls work. If she hadn’t picked that place to haunt, I doubt I’d be in the mess I’m in now.

The town springs up slowly. Houses begin to sit closer together, then nearer to the road. Side streets appear, and businesses start to intersperse among the spider web of tight residential development, obviously undertaken with no real planning or forethought. Then, at last, the glow of the streetlights tells me I’m back where I’m in control. This is the town I run, inside and out. Or I did.

Passing the street that leads to the Jefferson House, it takes will not to turn. I want to check up on things, but personal priorities come first, and I have to trust Julie has everything well in hand.

The dulcet tones of a southern rock cover band blare from six blocks away, tingling my eardrums. The music is louder than usual. It should be a fun night, or at least a packed house. Either way, I’m content.

The transmission voices its complaint as I downshift onto the access road. I’ll never really like this car, but she does get from A to B more quickly than most. I still wish I’d driven something nicer tonight, something with a top I could put down. But, in the end, the car I’m in is the least of my concerns right now.

The lot isn’t full yet, leaving plenty of good spaces, but rock star parking wasn’t really a concern of mine to begin with. This just means that after I eat and pick him up, I should be able to get back here to a manageable crowd.

If I’m lucky, he’ll want to be social tonight. If not, then I’ll be too busy to make it back here at all. I really want to show him that the biggest part of my life is still under control, so he won’t only see the little girl that has to call him in as her savior. Again.

Why do I need so badly for him to be proud of me?

As I cross the parking lot, the lingering scents of sweat, cheap beer, and longing hang heavy in the air already. This might be a little too easy. Though catching a fresh meal has never been really what I’d call difficult. That’s why the small town, Midwestern life suits me; I usually get what I want and rarely have to work that hard to have it. Hopefully, years of having my food delivered hasn’t left me too out of practice.

Someone sees me coming and opens the door and holds it for me. That’s the thing about being a regular in a small town rural bar – you are a known commodity, more or less. This helps and hurts when you have to hunt for food where you also gather socially. Like a balancing act. Some are good at it; some are not. Those who have been less than good at it around here, I’ve had to deal with. No one pisses in my pool even once and gets to do it again.

There’s a big cowboy at the end of the bar, a couple bikers near the pool tables, and a few burly construction workers at a table. After only the briefest pause, my route is clear in my mind. The first taker is my next victim. I really love playing this game. Maybe I’m not so rusty, after all.

I don’t get the chance to make it very far. As I pass the bar, in my peripheral vision, the dark brown of the cowboy hat moves in my direction.

“Now this is why I came out tonight. A good looking girl in tight fitting dress!”

The booming words come projected from the stout bear of a man standing at the end of the bar, undressing me through his beer goggles.

The cowboy it is; he’ll make a full meal.

I do my best to fake a blush, while acting interested and offended all at once. Pretending to care what men think is an art. It takes moments to learn, but lifetimes to master. I’d like to believe I’m an expert.

I walk over to him, smiling but with my eyes downcast. “My name’s Veronica. Who are you, handsome?”

He puffs up in his detail-stitched denim shirt, pushing out his barrel chest in a vain attempt to hide his well-tended gut. He’d be fairly good looking if he didn’t obviously take such pride in how good looking he thinks he is.

“They call me Buck, and if I could I’d like to do a lot more than buy you a drink,” he slurs slightly at me.

He motions to the bartender for another round and I do my best to blush again, this time giving a halfhearted laugh at his insipid comment.

“Here ya go, darlin’.” He hands me a Jägerbomb and tries to force it to my lips. “Bottoms up, baby!”

He reminds me why I live in a small town; this corn-fed hick really thinks he’s irresistible. Well, who am I to disappoint? I down the drink like a good girl going bad, exhale deeply, and lean over into him, letting my neckline plunge as it was designed to do. As old and tired as this dance is, I really do love his eyes on me. Some things never change.

“Now, that was worth it, wasn’t it?” he asks me proudly. “Buck won’t steer ya wrong.”

“We can go somewhere more private if you’d like…Buck,” I whisper softly in his ear, pulling back almost as slowly as the wicked grin spreads across my face. His perverse smile hides nothing. I have him now – hook, line, and zipper.

Money changes hands as we exit the bar. I laugh a little out loud while remembering the lack of faith I’d had in my abilities. I try to lead him to my car, but he’s intent on going to the alley behind the building. I try to convince him, sliding my hand slowly down over the large oval belt buckle with his name on it. But he’s convinced the alley is what excites him, and I don’t want to take the time to change his mind, so I follow along.

It begins subtle and playful, but it’s clear that’s not what he’s in the mood for. He pushes me down onto my knees in a matter of seconds, quickly wrapping a hand in my hair and beginning to jerk my head back and forth violently.

He couldn’t hurt me if he tried, so I let his game continue on his terms. Using my mouth like a cheap sex toy is a bit insulting, I guess, but I don’t need to breathe so I’m not gagging or choking. As always, I’m here to get what I need, and so I’ve gotten used to allowing them what they need. I look at it like my public service, or my good deed.

I could just take what I want and be done, but that generally leads to more problems than I want to deal with. I’ve even grown bored with the games of superiority and subservience. I let them feel dominant, and powerful. It’s the least I can do, really. Besides, the heightened state of arousal makes them taste better, even if most of them could use a lesson in hygiene.

It’s been so long since I did this in public. It might even be a little exciting if I weren’t so anxious, or if Buck were more attractive.

I’m only vaguely aware of the fact that he’s calling me a dirty whore. A little laugh flitters inside that he would call me dirty; the irony is lost on him but not me. I’ve almost completely tuned him out, focused on the job I’m here to do.

And then he makes a mistake; he hits my face, hard. If I were still alive, it would have done some damage, broken bone, maybe even knocked me out.

This isn’t playful anymore – this bastard actually likes to hurt women – now, I’m done playing.

I pull back slowly from him, looking at his fist wrapped around what looks like a roll of quarters. He’s using every ounce of strength and leverage he has to try to hold me on my knees. He has no more effect holding me down than the weight of my clothes. His eyes begin to widen and he lets go of my hair as I rise slowly and determined. His fist is still drawn back, but we both know he’s not going to swing. I’m going over all the painful ways I can drive home the point that he doesn’t get to hurt the girls he plays with, all the while considering how much I love this dress and don’t want to ruin it.

Standing in front of him I wipe his liquid from the corner of my mouth and stare deeply. I can see the panic in his eyes. I can smell his fear, deep, rich and growing, and for the first time tonight, I’m actually aroused.

“Now, Buck, what could possibly have made you think that was a good idea?” I ask in a cool and controlled voice.

“Get back on your knees, whore! I ain’t paying you to fucking talk!” He spews the words out loudly, in a vain attempt to regain control as he tries to force me back down with one hand, while still menacing with his fist. He only succeeds in ripping my dress.

Not this dress, not tonight. He’s decided it for me; tonight is the end of his story.

“I’m used to the rough stuff, Buck.”

In an instant, I have his throat in my hand and his back against the wall. He’s beginning to shake as he draws back to swing.

“I was just going to let you off with a little pain and a warning about hurting working girls, and look what you’ve done.”

The fear pours off of him in waves as I disregard his raised fist and calmly show him my torn dress. It’s enough to make even my body react involuntarily to the stimulation. “You want a pretty girl to throatfuck, you pay for it. We’re all good. You like it a little rough, that’s fine. But slapping a girl around hard enough to actually hurt them? We just don’t do that, Buck. You’re incredibly lucky I don’t bruise easy.”

I flash him a smile and for just a moment I can see he thinks it’s all going to be okay.

“We had a perfectly good deal worked out, and now you’ve ensured that I’m the last thing you’re gonna see, and given me the extra work of dealing with your corpse.”

He shudders and wets himself.

It really is dirty how hot this has gotten me. I’ll blame it on my state of mind, certainly not wanting to give this bastard any credit.

I peer deeply into his eyes, and his mind unfolds to me. I see all that he had planned for me; I know all that is ‘Buck.’ The last restraint I had left is gone. He’s from out of town, no one here knows him, and only his trucking company will miss him.

I apply just a touch more pressure, and with a flick of my wrist, he goes limp. I let go and he crumples to the ground in a heap. Quick and painless is better than he deserves, but I’m pressed for time.

I drink from him what I need and leave him piled up behind the dumpster. At least he’s served his purpose, even if he was more trouble than I’d planned on.

Why this dress? Any other dress he could have ripped and he’d still be breathing. Clearly, I’m too stressed out.

I dial my cell and wait, more than a little irritated when I get voicemail. “Frank, you really need to call me back. I have a pick up for you and it’s time sensitive. Remind me again why I keep you on payroll?”

I walk back up to the end of the alley and wait for my phone to ring. The straps on the left shoulder of the dress are ripped completely out of the back and there are two deep tears where they had been attached. This is what happens when you have to rush. Things don’t go as planned, and then shit gets broken.

“Can I help you with that?”

His voice is steady, soft, and scares me almost out of my skin. This is why I pay him so well.

I turn to face him and am a bit taken aback to see him dressed in jeans and a wife-beater. He’s never this down-dressed, even when I tell him to be.

“Not with my dress, but you can wrap that up,” I fume, nodding my head back down the alley to what remains of Buck. “And make it disappear.”

Frank O’Leary looks like what a Greek god should look like. Chiseled out of stone; an example of everything that makes a man attractive. His mane of auburn hair, always perfectly messy, hangs down between his shoulder blades. Like all men who look this good, Frank has no interest in women. He also has very few morals, a deviously creative mind, and an unequaled love for money. That serves to make him an irreplaceable asset. I keep telling myself I can never trust him completely, but he’s too smart to bite the hand that pays for his lifestyle. Also, despite my attempts to keep him at arm’s length, I’ve grown attached to him over the years.

He stares, one eyebrow raised, at the boots jutting visibly out from behind the dumpster and nods. “Any particulars on how he disappears or just ‘out of sight out of mind?’”

“Just make it fucking happen, Frank! I don’t have time for bullshit tonight!” As soon as the words escape me, I’m aware they’re harsher than he deserved.

The look on his face says it all. He understands. He’s not happy about it, but he knows why I’m stressed and he’ll accept it for now and hope that things will get better.

“He is coming in tonight, then?”

“Should be here in about an hour.”

I really have to get back to the old me, and soon. I know better than to kill this close to where I go to relax. I know he knows that, too. It felt good to destroy that piece of shit, and save generations of women from having to deal with him, but I still know better.

Frank looks down the alley again, then back to me and holds out a set of keys with a silver skull keychain. He knows me too well. I take the keys to the Charger and hand him back the ones to the little flat black speedster.

“How much gas does she have?” he asks, still looking down the alley, sizing up the job.

“You need to get some,” I call back at him, already walking toward the emerald-green muscle machine. “You’re on fumes.”

He’s muttering under his breath as I get in, but his voice is less than a whisper and it gets lost under the deafening roar of the engine coming to life. I put the top down and back her out slowly while checking my watch. Not much time left.

I leave the lot and the mess behind me, able to count on Frank. I have to get to the airport, and make sure everything is secure before his plane lands.

CHAPTER 2

I CAN SEE A HALF-DOZEN or so impatient workers shuffling things back and forth through the tinted front windows of the miniature rural airport as I slide slowly by the building, craning my neck, eyes darting, to see everything. Nothing can go wrong, my anxiety won’t allow it. The steering wheel slides through my fingers as I finally being to look for a place to park. His plane is a charter flight due to land at ten tonight. It’s obviously the only thing keeping them here so late, and they’re clearly not thrilled about it.

I’m thirty minutes early. That barely leaves me enough time to do a real sweep of the area to make sure there won’t be any embarrassing surprises once he’s here.

Idling to a stop, tires against the cracked concrete parking block, I let out a deep sigh and look deep into my eyes in the rearview mirror. I hate cutting things so close.

Stepping out into the parking lot, I take a deep breath, steeling myself. While I’m relieved not to find anything immediately out-of-place, I’m not foolish enough to take anything for granted. Jessica, one of my errand runners, was sitting on this place today, to let me know if anything untoward happened. She thinks I have a shipment of drugs coming in, and I’m more than happy to have her believe that for now. Some people get so excited thinking they’re doing something illegal. Give ‘em what they want, right?

I let my consciousness leave my body and flit back and forth across the landscape, looking for anything that could be a threat, anything I might have missed. All that is natural or living becomes closer to me, a part of me, an extension of my body. I can’t ‘feel’ in this area as well as I’d like – there are too many manmade impediments – but that doesn’t stop me from giving it every ounce of effort in me.

In this kind of place I’ll have to do my leg work with my legs. That sucks, but what doesn’t lately?

I’m so preoccupied that I’m fifty feet from my Charger, looking behind the rental car building, before noticing I’ve left my keys in the ignition. I really am a child again; trying to make sure the house is clean before her parent gets home.

I’m walking the crumbling lot from end to end, still fumbling with the ripped straps on my dress. It seems that I have managed to keep everyone completely oblivious to Jules’ arrival.

Wrapping the straps hanging down from my left side around my right hand, with the dress in my left, I give one quick jerk and remove them. He’ll notice, I think as I drop them into my purse, but now I don’t look so disheveled to anyone else who sees me.

A warm ripping sensation spreads through the back of my neck and chest a second before I hear the pop.

Looking down at pieces of my chest laying on the parking lot in front of me, I roll my eyes and growl.

“Really?”

This isn’t the first time I’ve been shot, but now on top of everything else there’s blood on my dress. Thankfully, the shot only went through my body. Two inches lower and the front of my dress would be as frayed out as the skin and upper bones of my chest. Four inches higher and my head would have come off, and then I’d be beyond caring.

I fall to the ground on my stomach to sell my ‘death’ to whoever just pulled the trigger. Laying motionless I don’t have to wait long. An engine starts in the distance, then tires pull up next to me.

Only one door opens and closes, with the sound of one set of feet.

How sad is it that this is the good news of my night so far? Only one asshole trying to kill me this time.

I let him turn me over and shine a flashlight in my face. He’s checking a photo to make sure I’m me.

The plates on the van he’s driving are from Texas. They’re hiring people from out-of-state to kill me now? That’s great.

A hand pushes into my neck, checking for a pulse that’s not there. This guy has no clue what he’s hunting.

He hoists me up on his hip and carries me to the side door of the van. Holding my limp body under one arm, he jerks the door open then roughly drops me on the carpet like a sack of potatoes.

He slams the door and runs around to get in the driver’s seat. His hand is on the gear shifter when I slide silently up behind his seat and press my boot knife to his throat. His bladder releases and the pungent smell of urine rushes up to fill my nose. This is one of the times a super-sensitive sense of smell is less than a blessing.

“Wanna tell me what you think you’re doing?” I ask mockingly.

“You’re dead. I shot you. You didn’t have a pulse. You have a hole all the way through you!”

The wavering and panic in his voice are nice, but I don’t have time to enjoy it now.

The gaping hole in me is rapidly closing, skin and bone reconnecting, but it’s still left a gory mess down the front of my dress. Of all the times this sort of bullshit could happen, this has to be the worst. What happens if it doesn’t heal fast enough for me to get in to meet Jules? I’m sure he’d frown on me starting a riot in the airport.

“Damn it!” I spit out before focusing up on the would-be assassin. He wilts under the heat of my gaze.

“You’re lucky I’m short on time and manpower to clean up bodies tonight. Tell me who hired you.” The blade sinks into him lightly, letting a trickle of warm blood run down onto my hand. My tongue slides around my lips even though I’ve already gorged myself this evening; my hunger is second nature, but I have to control it. I push my mind’s eye into his head painfully. As he whimpers and cries I start flipping through his thoughts like I had a remote and was flipping channels.

“Molder. A guy named Molder. Two hundred grand, no questions.”

Christ, this guy took a contract over the internet. He doesn’t even know who hired him really. Next thing you know people are going to be after me from chat rooms and social networking sites.

“Maybe next time you’ll ask some questions, huh?” I jab the blade in-between the bones of his shoulder and turn it. He screams and that makes me smirk.

Reaching into his back pocket as he leans away from me in pain, I find his wallet. I rifle through it until I find the little plastic card that unflatteringly depicts his face next to his home address. I hold it up in front of his face, making sure he sees it. Then, smiling viciously, I drop it in my purse.

“Thomas Laird. I know your name, your face, your address, and your license plate number. You can leave the state now and never come back, or I can make sure you suffer for many, many agonizing years before I let you die. It’s your call.”

I wipe my knife on his shirt and get out of the van. His eyes are saucers, looking at the hole in my chest that’s almost completely closed. I expected him to take off as soon as I was out, but he’s just sitting there.

I don’t have time for this. I take a step toward him. “Boo!”

That’s all it takes. Within seconds, his taillights are fading into the distance like a memory as I walk back to my car.

Dropping into the bucket seat I check to make sure I’m presentable in my visor mirror.

“Looks like I spilt food all over the front of me but past that, I’m fine.” I say it aloud, as though actually hearing it will make the lie to myself more convincing.

I stand up out of the car and start flicking off the clots and chunks remaining on the front of my poor dress. I slam the car door and put my knife away, convinced the night can’t get any worse.

My feet take the direction of the terminal again, this time with me physically heading there, past the barricade and in through the automatic door. I stop long enough to let everyone who’s here get a good look, before heading to the window near the arrivals gate.

Then it hits me. He’s here.

I can feel Jules’ presence, like a second soul in my body with me, before the plane even touches down. He’s already scanning through my emotions. I can hide myself from almost anyone, but he made me, and to him I’ve always been an open book.

The blinking lights on the horizon grow larger. The dark silhouette of the plane comes slowly into view and the butterflies in my stomach begin to try to break free in earnest. I give the inside of the building one last slow sweep without moving. The bark of the tires hitting the tarmac echoes in my ears. There really is no turning back now. What have I done?

I can see his face as soon as he exits the plane. Even at this distance his eyes meet mine, and I know. Those piercing blue-green irises that I love and fear so much show me he’s more displeased with me that I had hoped he would be. It’s time to start the song and dance. I can only hope to impress him enough with what I’ve accomplished that he’ll be willing to forgive, or at least accept, my failures.

He walks in like he owns even the people standing near him, and they treat him as though he actually does. All eyes are on him, and I can’t help but want and fear him a little, like everyone else here does. There’s a beauty to his face, to all six-foot of his body really, and the way he carries himself. But none of that comes close to the haunting otherworldliness of his being that you can’t help but sense just by being in his presence.

He’s wearing the hat I bought him. I’ve always thought he looked good in a beret. The rest of his attire is black and casual, under his trademark leather. He obviously thinks he’s going to have to get dirty.

I’m insulted by that for a moment, and then I realize that he might.

Twenty-three short paces and he’s through the metal detector and we’re standing face to face. He looks me up and down like a military inspection. The memory of the dress, at least, has brought a slight smile. Either that or he thinks the condition of my clothing is sad enough to be laughable. It’s really a toss-up.

“It’s good to see you again.” I lean into him, wrapping my arms around his waist. He returns my embrace, but it’s loose and cold. “I hope your flight wasn’t too horrible.”

“I hate to fly V, and you know that.” He doesn’t hold back his contempt. He takes a silver case from his coat pocket, opening it as he turned from me to face the exit. Producing a cigarette from it, he closes the case and taps the smoke against it solidly three times. He had far more to say, I could tell, but not in front of the breathers. “Let’s just get going, shall we?”

He snaps his lighter and takes a long first drag. Exhaling slowly he gestures and we begin to walk to baggage claim to retrieve his suitcase. Several workers look as if they are about to inform him the terminal is smoke-free, then think better of it, going on with their work. A predator and prey reaction; I don’t inspire that in breathers. Honestly, I hope I never do.

***

As we drive back to the ranch house, in what started as strained silence, he questions me about why I seem to have so many connections to the living world, and why it is that I spend so much time ‘playing with my food.’

I try to defend myself, but the concept seems so off-putting to him that my defense for my actions comes off as little more than hollow justification.

“After you left, I began to branch out. I became more civic-minded about the community I was calling home.”

“Did you somehow delude yourself into thinking that any of their affairs needed your direct attention, or did you simply need to feel important? What are you now? Their salvation or damnation? Didn’t I teach you better than that?”

I shrug. “In some ways, I see myself as a blessing and a curse here, and the few others who actually know about me feel the same way, I’m sure. “ I know the words are wrong as soon as they break free of my lips.

“Know about you? The house you run, or what you are?” His words are as biting as his gaze.

“Both.” My only hope now was to tear through this as fast as I can. “Of course, the city leaders would condemn me and my house publicly, but quite a few of them have found their way to my back door in the wee hours of the morning.”

Leaving the lights and buildings of the city behind, we were now entering a more rural landscape. Now I am free. I open up my senses fully again. He could feel me spreading out to fill my surroundings. I could tell he was impressed, slightly, but not enough to outweigh his disappointment.

“They have regular girls or boys, and a few of them are actually my regulars personally. It’s a wonderful side effect of taking what I need from them that they only seem to remember the blissful high of being ‘entertained’ and nothing else. I mean, what would they think if they knew that I’d been draining more than just their pockets for years?”

“Who knows about what you are?”

“Frank, Julie, and Leslie. They’re my staff.”

He sighs deeply and shakes his head. “I know I taught you better.”

“And Lucy.” I have to get it out there; it’s too much a part of why I needed him here to prolong my admission. “Lucy knows what I am. She knows almost everything about me.”

“Lucy is?” His tone is soft and even, but his disappointment hits me like bricks.

“The breathers call her ‘Mama Maiden.’ She died back in the 1800’s. She kinda looks after the weak, ya know? The street people and the working girls. Like a guardian angel.”

“You mean a phantom, a spirit?” He almost loses his anger. I can see it flash in him. “Why would you be dealing with a spirit? We’ve discussed this before. How many times?”

“It goes beyond that. There’s something larger at play here. The spirits know about it, and it’s had an effect on our kind too. I think Rachel is the key to figuring out what’s going on, and stopping it if we can, but I can’t do it alone.”

My words hang there in the space between us, waiting for him.

“Rachel is the spirit child?”

“Yes! She was taken, and…” I have to slow down. If I’m overly emotional, I don’t even want to know what he’ll think, what he’ll do. ”Jules, my house was set on fire. There have been grave robbers and rituals. There’s a hit out on me, and a warrant for my arrest. Even Jacobi, who was our eldest here, has disappeared. That’s why I called you. My dealings with spirits didn’t bring this trouble; it just made me notice more of what was going on.”

Dead silence. Pulsating tendrils of his conscious will are moving through my mind. I can feel him sorting through my emotions, wordlessly, as the cool night wind swims past us.

I am all too aware of each second. They pass like their own lifetimes. I’m almost to my house. We are both only listening to the engine of the Charger as I strain it to its breaking point. We can’t arrive soon enough.

I whip into the driveway too fast, accompanied by the smell of burning brakes. I’m out of the car before the engine has completely died. His bag is in my hand and the trunk lid is closing when I notice he’s already standing at the door. I don’t even have time to put the top up.

This would be so much easier if he loved me like I loved him and didn’t see me as a child he was responsible to care for. Or am I projecting again? Why did I ever think that psychological help was a good idea? It only made me question more.

I open the front door and walk briskly down the hall. Gesturing to the open door of the room that was his for so many years, I expect a reaction that doesn’t come. He looks inside, and I set his bag at the foot of the bed. Turning to see him, he’s already gone.

I find him in the living room. He’s standing in front of the window with a knife in his hand. It’s the one I keep in the case on the table by the door. The one he gave me to protect myself, before he made me what I am.

He turns from the window and puts the blade back, glancing up at me. I look at the floor, out of instinct and shame.

Finally, he speaks to me.

“I need you to explain the details of your current situation. Leave nothing out. I have to know exactly what we’re dealing with.”

He’s going to ride my memories. I can do that too, but not as well as he can. He’s the one who taught me all I know about how to manipulate the mind. He wants me to explain so that I’ll remember and he can feel those memories first hand. I really didn’t think he’d let me off with just a simple explanation.

I suppose it’s better this way. I won’t have as much of an urge to defend myself, and he can just experience for himself what I’ve been dealing with.

“I don’t even know where to begin. So much has happened in such a short time. Things spiraled out of control so quickly —”

He cuts me off with a glance.

Jules walks across the room to the bar and pours himself a drink. The attitude he gives off is so powerful. As though there were no problems in the world he couldn’t handle and I’m no more than an annoyance he happens to be entertaining as a guest in his home. He returns to where I’m standing staring at him, and selects a dark brown oversized chair.

He moves a hand, motioning me to sit across from him. I really don’t even have time to think as my body responds to his will. As strong as I’ve gotten over these years we’ve spent apart, he can still bend my will to his as easily as a flick of his wrist.

He sits down slowly, settles back, and I lose myself envisioning him as a medieval conqueror; my knight in black shining leather.

“You should start from where you first encountered this spirit child you told me about. That seems to be about where your trouble begins. Her name is Rachel?”

CHAPTER 3

“RACHEL WAS JUST TOO PRETTY. She was so ideal that it defied reality. A china doll brought to life. I think that’s likely what gave her away to me first.” As I say it, Jules pulls the memory vividly to the front of my thoughts, forcing me to focus just so I can keep speaking.

“Lucy hoped by sending her here from the street I’d just take her in without really questioning. She should have known better.”

***

“Why are you laying on my porch?”

I’m shocked to find the tiny person flat under my swing, playing with a large brass key, as I arrive at the Jefferson House at a little past three in the morning.

“It was raining. I didn’t want to get wet, ma’am. I’m sorry.”

The words could be a total crock, but the sincerity in her eyes tells me that I’d have to be a really real monster, not just a chick with fangs, to make her go out in the storm. I squat down in front of her gritting my teeth as I try to fake a smile. She doesn’t even meet my eyes.

“Why don’t you get up and come inside with me?”

As she pockets the key I offer her my hand to help her up and she’s an ice sculpture, not a child. Utterly fragile and cold. “Would you like something warm to eat?”

“No thank you, ma’am. I’m fine,” she says in a meek tone, shaking her raven ringlets slightly.

My mind screams out ‘red flag!’, but at this point, I‘m committed. I’ll see how this plays out.

I walk her through a tour of the downstairs rooms that aren’t used for business and make sure she knows what areas are off limits. I then park her on a comfortable sofa in front of a television and go to the basement where my office and suite are. Suddenly, it dawns on me that despite the deluge outside, this girl’s pleats aren’t even the slightest bit wet. Again, ‘red flag!’

My plan to watch her on the closed circuit security monitors quickly proves to be unfruitful. I know she’s there where I left her. I can feel her thoughts, her emotions, in that spot, yet she doesn’t appear on the screen.

I go back upstairs and find myself sitting quietly next to her as she watches an unhealthy dose of late night adult cartoons. I’m trying to read deeper into her. Her thoughts are distant and hard to grasp, like trying to read covers on a newsstand from an airplane.

This goes on for as long as I can take before I finally blurt out, “Who sent you here?”

“Mama.” She doesn’t even glance in my direction.

“Mama Maiden? The Lady in White? Lucy?” I slide onto the floor on my knees in front of her, my interest piqued.

She seems a little put off, or frightened; I’m not sure. Looking hard at the scuff marks on her Mary Janes, she nods slowly. “She said I shouldn’t talk about her until we knew each other better.”

Manipulative bitch. Playing off my weaknesses.

“Did she tell you why you should be here?”

“She said I would be safer here. Hidden from the ones who killed me, until she found out why they did that.”

She’s talking about her own murder so flatly I wonder if she might still be in shock over it. Then it occurs to me – how would the ones who killed her be able to find her after death unless…

“Who killed you, um, you got a name?”

“Rachel Kathleen Gregory. Pleasure to meet you.” She accompanies the stilted words with a well-trained head nod. “The shadow people killed me. Mean spirits. Mama says they work for someone, and she wants to find out who.”

“Why did they kill you? Do you know?”

I’m screaming in my head not to ask any more questions. I really shouldn’t want to know the answers, but I can’t stop myself.

“I don’t know. My daddy died before I can really remember, and my mommy died in the hospital last year. I was living with my Aunt Becky, but she works at the strip club and didn’t always come home. Then there was the fire. Mama said that made me ‘emotionally ripe’, whatever that means.”

I know exactly what it means. It means she had enough psychic energy, built up from emotional trauma, to make her a potent Spirit. It also means, stop asking questions.

“How old are you?”

She looks up at me and the corner of her mouth turns up slightly. “I’ll be nine next week.” Her gaze drops back to the floor and her shoulders slump. It never occurred to me that a dead heart could break until right now.

Damn it! Lucy knew this was a dirty thing to do to me. She knew better. This was intentional.

I reach out to put my hand on her shoulder and find it instead sitting on the seat, having passed right through her. I pull back slowly and bend lower to catch her eyes again.

Don’t do it! I’m jumping up and down and screaming my head off on the inside.

“You can stay here as long as you like, Rachel. This can be your home now.”

She looks up at me, nervous at first, and then beaming, “You mean it, ma’am?”

“Yes. Of course I do.” I conjure my best smile for her. “Call me V.”

Days turn into weeks, weeks into months, before I see Lucy again. She has things of her own to run, with the spirits she’s a matron for, and I know that. I think it’s more likely though that she’s making sure I have plenty of time to become overly attached to Rachel.

When she does show up, I can’t bring myself to have contempt for her. We discuss the bizarre circumstances surrounding Rachel’s death, and the fact she still has no real leads or explanations. She’s heard of no other example of spirits killing the living, unless that living soul had done something to the spirit in their life. The ones who killed our Rachel were too many in number and too great in power for that to apply. She was only an eight year old girl.

Lucy tells me that the investigation on her side is ongoing. For me it’s business as usual. Clients in, clients out. I’m taking care of my girls and now a little dead one as well.

Rachel’s living in the basement and we are spending a lot more time together watching cable, reading together, or playing cards.

Lucy comes to check in on us and even teaches her, over time, to hold a substantial form for longer periods. Eventually, she learns to hold things and move things like a proper haunting spirit.

I find myself being so proud of her, invested in her. I’m falling in love with this little girl who never had a chance at life.

***

It’s ten at night on a lazy Tuesday in the near Southside of Pekin. A semi truck pulling a twenty-eight-and-a-half-foot trailer creeps to a stop in front of a long since abandoned Masonic Lodge in the seediest neighborhood this town has to offer. The glossy black of truck and trailer reflect with a sheen of overstated anonymity. The local work-from-home chemical merchants and their overly protective ‘friends’ simply can’t help but take note and stare curiously from the front porches and picnic tables that line the street.

Several men in black clothes, who undoubtedly obliterated the inventory of a military surplus store somewhere, begin moving furniture and countless large crates into the condemned brick building with heroic swiftness.

Two black SUVs, each with a car hauling trailer in tow, park on the secondary street next to the lodge and spew forth even more men who enter and head for the basement. Noises and flashes of light begin to pour out into the stillness of the humid evening air.

In the corner of the basement, a scruffy lump of man stirs to consciousness from under a pile of cardboard. His eyes widen at all the activity around him.

His name is Shakes; he smells of urine and twitches and jerks from too many years of using automotive fluids to get high, and this has been his home for going on four years now, and no one has ever even set foot in this basement before tonight. Now, there are half a dozen men setting up a bank of generators against the far wall; he’s at a loss for what to do.

Finally, it’s just too much for him and he has to ask, “What are you guys doing down here?”

A dozen eyes lock on him at once with deadly focus. They move like lightning, snatching him up from the floor with his few meager belongings and begin dragging him toward the door. He yells and struggles for a moment, but it becomes painfully obvious there’s no stopping them. He slumps down, resigned to whatever fate they have for him, and becomes two hundred pounds of deadweight.

“Stop.” The order comes from a silhouetted form in the doorway. “Put him down.”

The men react immediately and Shakes crumples into a smelly heap on the floor. He flails around, pulling his bag and other treasures close to his body, before looking up to see the face of his would-be savior.

The man takes a few steps further into the room, letting the dim light in the room illuminate his face. He’s dressed in dirty ripped jeans, a white t-shirt, and a leather trench coat. If not for his well-trimmed facial hair, Shakes thought he could be the twin brother of the guy who lived in the dumpster behind the old grocery on Sixth Street.

Looking down at him more kindly than felt natural, the man asks, “Who are you?”

“They…they call me Shakes.” He points to the corner of the room. “I live here.”

“Then I’m you’re new landlord, Shakes. C’mon.” He offers a hand to help him up. “These men need to get back to work and I think we should get to know each other better. My name’s Garrett.”

***

The Jefferson House sits back from the street behind a row of evergreens that let only the third floor windows of the 1880’s Victorian look out over the worn-out west-end neighborhood. A hidden oasis of lush creature comforts that promised beautiful sights, intoxicating temptations, and of course, the most intense of physical pleasures seven nights a week. Soft light leaks from the stained-glass windows, and the delicate smell of Japanese incense drifts out like a spiritual invitation.

There really isn’t one true name for the place, but the Jefferson House is the most recognized title. It’s not as though I can really get a LLC in that name for the kind of business it is. Its name could be attributed to the fact that it’s on Jefferson Street. It could also be because, as far as anyone outside the place is concerned, it’s run by Julie Jefferson. Either way, a name’s just a name. The place is what’s important.

Julie was the first girl I took in when I reopened the house in 2002. She was eighteen then and already working in the industry. I took her in to protect her but she has a good head on her shoulders that has proven to be more than worth my investment. With her looks and deviant personality, I’m really lucky she’s so loyal.

She was born Julia Elizabeth Jeffries, but who can’t use a good alias these days? Especially when you are working in a largely illegal trade in a small town in Middle America?

She manages my accounts and works with clients these days because she enjoys the job, the control and the feeling of superiority it gives her. Not because she has to. The financial perks for her aren’t bad either, I suppose, and I think she gets off on running the rest of the girls.

None of my girls work unless they want to, and they set their own rates, per client generally. Half of what they earn goes back into the house, which more than pays the bills. They know better than to lie to me about their income. Someone tried once. No one speaks about it. No one has to. I provide them with a stable home, legal and medical care, and safety with physical protection.

Julie has two ‘lieutenants’, Leslie and Piper. I’d call them assistants if I didn’t think they’d take it as an insult. She occasionally defers responsibility to them, and as long as everything runs smoothly, I trust Julie’s judgment.

Leslie is my favorite of the two. A tiny green-eyed girl with auburn curls and all the elegance and grace of a ballerina, with the attitude of a hungry Great White in chummed up water.

Piper is more demure, a tall thin ebony statue you’d expect to see on display in a museum. She’s calm and calculating; I’d almost say insidious. I like the things she’s done for the house, and by proxy done for me, but I trust her as far as an infant could toss a city bus.

Tonight, Julie has asked for some personal time. Her brother is in from Louisville, and she’s taking him out for dinner and drinks.

Leslie is on a ten thousand dollar ‘out call’ to Will Planton, a member of the wealthiest and most politically connected family in Pekin. He’s certainly connected, but not the brightest or best looking. He’s into some heavy kink, likes to be punished, so Leslie is in full on Dominatrix mode this evening. She almost didn’t even wear a coat to cover the latex and spiked straps. I’m sure she’s had a blast.

Now she needs a pick up, though. Since Julie is out for the night, I call Frank and let him know I’m going to get her and ask him to run by the house to check up on things while I’m gone.

I duck into the basement and see Rachel reading a book. She’s so lost in the pages that she doesn’t even notice me at first.

How did I get to be parental? It’s not like I changed who I was to adjust to her being here. It’s more like I simply incorporated things into myself that I never knew I could. Caring for her has become a part of my routine, and it’s so much better than the burden I’d assumed it would be.

She fills a void in me that I didn’t know I could have. Like somehow by caring for her and helping her grow, I’m redeeming a few of the sins I commit nightly. I guess there really is a heart left in me.

When she sees me looking in at her, she gives me her best devious grin, like she’s caught me up to something, and mouths ‘I love you’ before looking back down.

“I’ve got to go pick Aunt Leslie up. Are you going to be okay down here until I get back, troublemaker?”

“Yes,” she says without looking back up at me.

“Okay. Aunt Piper will be up stairs if you need anything. I’ll be back soon. And please! Stop being so loud!”

I can hear her giggling as I close the basement door.

I ask Piper to watch the house. She informs me there are only three girls ‘working’ at the moment so there really isn’t much to watch, but she’d be more than happy to manage things until I get back.

We have twelve girls, fifteen counting Julie, Piper, and Leslie. Only three working means tonight must be a ‘home with the wife’ night for the wealthy and corrupt. We’ll have to do something to pick those numbers up.

I’m mulling over ideas as I jump into the Mercedes for the long drive out into the county. The privileged community the big fish in this tiny pond call home sits well outside the city limits, comfortably abutting the new golf course. It’s the kind of place I can only imagine wanting to escape from.

A girl’s got to go where there money is, though.

***

The smell of burning cedar fills my nose as Leslie and I step out of the car. The Jefferson House is surrounded by fire trucks and other emergency vehicles.

Frank’s car is in the driveway. I can only hope he has some answers, because I have more than a few questions and I’m in no mood to try to pull information out of one of these municipal breathers.

I tell Leslie to stay with the car and I start trying to make my way around to the side yard, to get under the yellow tape unnoticed.

“It’s only in the basement, the mud room, and the kitchen. The damage, that is,” Frank says from behind me. “Piper is burned pretty good. I’ve got people on it. Thank God it was a slow night, huh?”

“The basement? My God, where’s Rachel?” I turn to face him and see from his clothes that he was in the fire himself. It strikes me as odd for a moment that somehow he makes the ‘burned in a fire’ look work, before the gravity of possibly losing him hits me. “Oh shit, are you…?”

“No. I’m fine. A tad bit crispy, but nothing bad.” He looks back at the field of flashing lights. “I haven’t seen Rachel, but I’ll keep an eye out for her. You should seriously be somewhere else though, before someone decides to start asking you all the wrong questions.”

I nod to him a bit vacantly and look back to the smoke still rising from my house. “Yeah…wow. I guess I’ll head to the ranch house with Leslie.”

“That sounds like a good plan, but take a scenic route.” There’s an odd tone of concern in his voice I’m not used to.

Confused, I look back to him as I start toward the car. “Why?”

“It was set, V,” he says flatly. “The house was set to burn. I have a bad feeling about this. I can’t give you exact reasons, but I do.”

I nod to him and turn. Walking back to the car I can think of nothing but potential enemies that might have wanted to torch my house. In fact, that’s almost all that’s on my mind for the whole of the drive to my other house, or even as I ready myself for bed. I’ve hurt a lot of feelings and peed in a lot of cereal bowls over the years, but who would be this pissed or this bold?

I lay back heavily into my pillows as the first lights of dawn break over the horizon and take in all that happened this evening. I can see all the moments where a different choice could have made a difference in the outcome. The ones where I was forced into choices that I’d normally never make. How my actions or lack of them brought things about that I’d never considered being a possibility. I can’t help but wish I could wake up and have the whole night to do over, knowing what I know now, like that Bill Murray flick.

Someone’s gonna die for this. A simple fact. I’ve just got to make sure it’s not me.

***

“We know it was arson. No question, right?” He pauses dramatically and raises an eyebrow before continuing.

“The cameras on the rear of the property were taken out and half the backside of the house was coated in kerosene. Like, a fuckload. It’s a damn good thing Piper has a good nose for smoke or I don’t think I’d have had a chance of putting out as much as I did.”

Frank‘s reports, even of bad news, are animated enough to keep me from wanting to break things. Well, usually, they are.

He nods at me for emphasis before continuing, “I’ve got a crew set to work on the house starting tomorrow night, no questions asked. Full restoration and remodeling. I’ve got Piper set up at my loft on Broadway with a doctor treating her burns. Completely off the books. I’ve even ordered replacement furniture and tracked down a copy, more than seventy years old I might add, of the painting that got toasty.”

He paces back and forth, obviously not as at home in my basement office at the ranch as in my cindered-out office in town. “The only thing I haven’t been able to locate is your insubstantial china doll.”

He says it like she isn’t really a person.

“Her name is Rachel.” I can’t hold back my anger at his disregard for her, as though she were a thing to be replaced.

“For serious? Boss lady, I know you’re dealing with a lot of shit right now, but maybe mine’s not the head to bite off? I’m sure she’ll turn up.”

His tone is flippant, but I know that I can’t afford to ride any harder on him. He really is putting in the overtime for me.

“Thank you, Frank. I just need some time and space to think. Figure this out. Calm down and take stock, ya know? It’d be a lot easier if I knew where she was.” I roll my eyes and bob my head slightly, trying to make as light of the situation as I can. Looks like he appreciates the gesture.

“I gotcha, no worries. I’ll keep you informed. I’m gonna give Lewis a ring, maybe convince him that he and I need to get to the bottom of our little in-house campfire together.” He turns and strides to the door before turning and adding, “Take your timeout. Remember that you work with the best. Let Julie handle the girls, and let me do what I do best. Don’t get all stressed out trying to do everything yourself. We can do it, that’s what you pay us for, we have that technology. Get some rest. It’ll make you feel better… and sweetie, you need it.”

The door closes and I fall onto the couch in a heap; so much to deal with and so little time. I know on some level that he’s right, and I’m lucky to have him, but I’ve never been the kind of girl to sit back and just let things happen.

“Veronica, I believe we should speak.” The silky melodious voice comes moments before Lucy is even visibly present in the room and has an urgency I’m not accustomed to hearing from her.

Clearly, relaxing is not what the world has for me to do at the moment. I must have done something truly horrible in a past life to earn this kind of karma. Wait, that was this life.

“What is it, Lucy? What do you know?” I look around and see a shimmer behind my desk that precedes the ripping sound, heralding Lucy’s apparition. She gives off a natural glow, and her clothes shine brighter than the lights I can comfortably keep in the house.

Practically two centuries dead and she looks better than me, damn it. She seems more vital and alive, and in her flowing white gown, with its ornate beadwork, she is a vision. She has a beauty and moves with a grace that none I’ve ever known could match. She’s my friend, and I genuinely care about her, but I sometimes wish that spirits had bad hair days.

“The fire was set to drive Rachel out. I’m almost certain of it.” She says it calmly, but I can see the confusion in her eyes. Even the dead don’t do a good job of masking their emotions all of the time.

“What would fire have to do with driving Rachel out? Fire can’t hurt spirits.”

“No, it can’t. But that’s how her aunt and uncle died. She barely made it out alive. She has an incredible fear of fire, and I believe whoever set the blaze knows that.”

“What are you suggesting?” I don’t really want to know the answer.

“I’m not completely sure yet, but I intend to find out. In the meantime, just be careful and keep an eye out for her.”

There’s another ripping sound and she’s gone.

She’s succeeded in making me worry more about Rachel. Worse, though, she’s made me nervous. I don’t do nervous well.

Lucy has places to be and people who count on her, spirits who count on her, anyway. I get that. She has a lot more counting on her than I do on me. We have that and a lot more in common. So I understand that she can’t hold my hand, but she’s always given me a bit more than she is now. It worries me.

I walk to the window and look down at Frank talking in the driveway to Julie and notice there’s a black cat sitting at Julie’s feet. Not in itself an odd thing out here in the country, but I can’t shake the feeling it’s staring at me. Staring into me.

Thanks, Lucy. See what you’ve done. Now I’m paranoid about cats.

CHAPTER 4

FRANK STROLLS LEISURELY UP to the front desk of the Sheriff’s department, sets his sunglasses down, and smiles broadly at Bonita, the bleach blonde dispatcher. “Hi there, gorgeous. Guess why I’m here.”

There’s a momentary pause for both of them as they stare at each other adrift in a sea of cheap perfume and contempt, each inviting the other to step over the line that would get more than just the two of them involved.

“Lewis is on a call, but I’ll let him know you’re here, Francis.” She sneers over her bifocals.

“Thanks.” He exhales the word more than he actually says it, gives her his best plastic smile, and turns away. “Bitch.” He says it quietly under his breath, just loud enough to be sure she could hear him.

The bright vivid blue of his two hundred dollar shirt stands out harshly from the brown vinyl and orange plastic furniture in the waiting room. The fact that he had to come here was just another part of his job, but that didn’t mean he’d ever like it.

He closes his eyes in a vain attempt to find his ‘happy place.’ The clicking of the plastic oscillating fan circulating the stagnant air in the office was just enough to keep him well grounded in his present personal hell.

Looking down at the table, he saw the same collection of magazines about race cars, hunting, and firearms that had been here since his first visit to the waiting room back in 2003.

He begins to curse his decision to leave his mp3 player in the car when a voice calls from the door, “Hey, Frank. Good to see ya. Is this about the fire?”

Detective David Lewis is far from a stranger to Frank, but he’s dumbstruck for a moment at the sight of him. Frank’s not sure he’s ever seen Lewis in a tie before.

Slowly, he stands with one eyebrow raised, smiling at Lewis. He over dramatizes the slow look down to Lewis’ neck and makes a shocked face. To punctuate it, he actually points.

“What?” Lewis looks down and suddenly realizes the reason for the theatrics. “Oh, the tie. Right. I had to talk to the press this morning and I knew if I took it off, I’d lose it,” he explains, before asking again, “The fire, right?”

“Yeah. The singed hair gave me away, didn’t it?” He waves to Bonita, who is unimpressed with the gesture. “That woman needs to get laid. Badly.”

Laughing at himself, he walks past Lewis into the walkway behind the small sea of cubicles.

All eyes are on them, and Frank knows it. He waits patiently at the door to Lewis’ office for him to go in and then turns to face the gawkers, giving a faux curtsey and bow. He slams the door behind him and sits down with a deep sigh.

“They’ll never get used to us meeting like this. Have you really given thought to how our relationship will affect the children?” He gets louder and more dramatic. “When will it be the right time to proclaim our love to the world?”

Lewis chuckles as he opens a folder and begins to skim the papers inside.

The office is an homage to disarray. It’s covered wall to wall in more than a decade’s worth of open case files and notes on evidence and persons of interest intermingled with Styrofoam cups, napkins, and partially eaten junk food.

Lewis himself was a stark contrast to his office. He had perfected the scruffy hero look. He had the strong chin, but he was never completely shaved at any hour of the day, and his hair was always styled to look like it wasn’t styled at all. He was as beautiful as a scruffy man can be.

Frank gets lost admiring him for a moment then catches himself, and decides he needs conversation to take his mind in a different direction.

“I’m pretty sure this is why I quit and went to work for myself.” Frank says. He moves half a bagel off a pile of file folders and relocates it to the trash can.

Lewis shoots a quick look at him and glances back at his paperwork. “I thought it was all about your self-importance and the significant pay increase you got going to work for Veronica Fischer.”

“Don’t hold back, Dave. Seriously. Tell me how you really feel.” The words come with a smile, but the undertone of resentment was there, not as deeply buried as they both liked to pretend it was.

For too many years, these two men had worked together and played together. They had trusted each other with their lives. Things like that don’t just go away, even after years. They had chosen different paths, but they were bound together in a way that most people will never understand.

A stifling silence hangs in the room for minutes on end as papers rustle, the phone rings and is answered, more papers are reviewed and replaced. They both want the awkwardness between them gone, but neither of them wants to talk about their feelings that the other betrayed them.

Lewis finally ends the silence. “I think the two witness statements match enough details of another guy we’ve had our eye on for a couple B and E’s that it wouldn’t hurt to do a photo lineup. I can put that together here, if you want to do some off the books leg work on this guy.”

“See where he was, and who he was with when things got hot? I can do that. Who’re we looking at?” Frank finds it all too easy to fall back into old patterns of thinking.

Lewis hands him a mug shot and arrest record for Calvin Hocker. “Remember this guy? He’s been in and out of lockup since he turned eighteen. Not the friendly sort. Assault, three different brands of theft, and an arson conviction five years ago. He’s still on probation.”

“I do remember him. Put his mom in the hospital over a tip off she gave to narcotics about his running a meth lab out of her storage building or something, right?”

Frank is lost for a moment in the past, in the day he arrested a young Calvin Hocker. If everyday could have been like that, a hero day, he’d never have given the job up.

“That’s the one, partner. Think you can handle the leg work?” Lewis says with a laugh, trying to break into a friendly dialogue.

Frank just vacantly nods, reading the address listed for his quarry. “Says here that he’s still out in Native Pines trailer park on the Southside. It shouldn’t be hard at all.”

He stands still looking at the records and court documents for Hocker’s most recent arrests. He flips through a few witness statements before realizing Lewis was staring at him. Closing the file, he cracks his trademark boyish grin and puts the folder down gingerly on the desk before turning to leave.

Lewis rises and catches him before the door opens. “Keep in touch, you don’t have to be such a stranger, and remember.” He turns Frank to face him before continuing.

“We didn’t talk.”

***

The house is full of life when I arrive. It’s as though last week’s antics with the fire and emergency rescue crews hadn’t even happened.

The lighting is perfect, the music is soft but driving, and the light scent of cherry blossoms completes the texture that I love about this place.

I wave to Julie as I pass through the sitting room. She’s talking to a client and I really don’t want anything to keep me from a proper cleaning and some indulgent self spoiling, not to mention putting on clothes from this season. I want to feel at home, and like myself again. Or at least as close as I can with my basement under construction, Piper on bed rest, and Rachel still missing.

There’s still been no sign of her, and I’m beginning to really go insane worrying about her. If someone has her in the spirit world, I’m sure Lucy will find her. If she’s anywhere else, then Frank’s eyes and ears out around town will let us know something.

It’s the not knowing that’s eating me alive. If someone hurt her, worse if they hurt her on purpose, I don’t know what I’ll do.

I walk into the windowless third floor room I usually use for entertaining clients and kick off my shoes at the door. The soft thick cream carpeting is heaven between my toes as I walk to the bed.

I drop my sweater and skirt on the bed and stand for a moment just enjoying the feel of the cool crispness of the air on my skin. Turning and picking up a bottle of lotion from the dressing table, my feet find their way to the bathroom.

Now I’m faced with life’s biggest eternal dilemma: A quick warm shower, or a long hot soak?

There’s a familiar ripping sound in the room behind me, and I turn to face Lucy in all her resplendent glory. She looks me up and down and then asks “Can we talk?”

I can’t help but be amused by her modesty. I reach behind the door and take my red silk robe off the hook, slide it over me and tie it, and exit the bathroom.

“Yeah, we can always talk. Did you find something out about Rachel?”

“I found out, young one, that there is something immensely greater happening than the simple terrorizing of a child and a small set fire.” She says it to intentionally make what’s happened seem small.

“Do you know how much that fire cost me?” I ask indignantly, “Or how much Rachel means to me? C’mon Lucy, talk to me. Tell me the truth.”

I reach down to the edge of my bed and take the skirt and sweater in hand and fold them. It’s a positive outlet for my nervous energy. It helps me deal with my stress in more productive ways. I’m seriously considering killing the next shrink I meet.

Lucy takes a long pause and looks deep into me before she speaks. “The truth of the matter is that the scope of what’s going on is beyond what I am accustomed to dealing with. There is a storm coming, Veronica. It will be difficult to weather. For all of us. You must prepare yourself. The world is about to turn on its end. There are more unquiet spirits active than I’ve ever known at once. I’ve never seen them act with the focus, or determination, more importantly I’ve never seen them play nice with each other before. You must heed my warning, child. Choose your path with caution in the coming nights.”

“Are you being cryptic on purpose? What the hell is an unquiet spirit? What are you so worried about?” I’m confused and in the last few days Lucy, who was usually my rock, was doing nothing but stressing me out. I throw the twelve times refolded dirty clothes on the floor in exasperation.

“If my words are making you uneasy then they are serving their purpose. You should be on edge. An unquiet spirit is often mistaken for a demon, or called a poltergeist by the living. They are dangerous, powerful, and completely mad. They have, due to their insanity, less holding them back from affecting the world of the living. What has taken me almost two hundred years to master, they grasp in weeks or months. I’ve never known times as dangerous as these.” Her words fall into the void between us. It feels to be growing into a gulf.

I didn’t realize until now how emotionally bonded she and I had become, and now she was shutting it off like a switch. She and I shared similar childhoods, and even both sold our bodies to survive for a time. She’s like my personal patron saint. Feeling the hole where she’s pulled back from me is almost painful.

“What about Rachel?” My voice comes more timid than I had intended.

“We will both do all that is in our power for her. But we must be wary for ourselves as well. You must keep that in mind.” Before I can even respond, there’s the sound of ripping and she’s gone.

Lately I’m not happy to hear what she has to say, and yet I’m more uncomfortable with what she isn’t saying. She knows more than she thinks it’s safe to tell me. I don’t like that at all.

CHAPTER 5

“VERONICA, YOU’VE GOT A PHONE CALL.” Julie calls up on the intercom. She sounds tense, it can’t be anything good. I put down the county map I’ve been looking at, hit the button for the outside line, and pick up the receiver.

“This is Veronica Fischer, what can I do for you?”

“Good evening Ms. Fischer. This is Detective David Lewis. You do remember me don’t you?” His voice betrays that he’s still holding a grudge. Some things never change.

”How could I forget? What can I do for you, Detective? You catch the firebug that lit up Julie’s house?” He and I both know that I own the place, but he can’t prove it and I love provoking people.

“I’m calling tonight regarding a different matter, Ms. Fischer.” He’s too calm. He thinks he has something on me. “What can you tell me about Michael Moran?”

“He’s a scum bag, and a thief? What are you looking for?” Maybe if I’m arrogant enough I can piss him off and he’ll let me know something he didn’t mean to.

“I’m afraid he’s neither of those things anymore, Ms. Fischer.”

He continues, letting me know that Mikey Moran, who used to do some work for me here and there, driving mostly, was found dead, and that I need to come in for questioning. Evidently witnesses have come forward claiming that I had been seen arguing with him the night before his body was found.

I’m on autopilot now. Letting the calm flow on the outside, while I’m ripping things apart in my mind. Who is setting me up for this? Does everything have to happen all at once? I need a vacation, but prison isn’t one of my choice exotic destinations.

This is trumped up bullshit, and Lewis isn’t being nice about it. He’s enjoying having something on me. He’s never forgiven me for ‘corrupting’ his precious little Frank. If he only knew. He needs to just sleep with him and get it over with, put us all out of our misery; it’s been years in coming.

I get a bit more dressed up than usual for tonight, what Rachel would call my ‘hot stuff’ attire. I have a date with a client that I don’t see very often. He has more money than good sense, and he doesn’t care how much it costs to show a girl a good time. My kinda man.

As I walk down the stairs, I can smell something odd that might just ruin my good mood. It’s old, and it’s dead. Others of my kind rarely come to visit here. It’s beneath them.

At the door to the basement I’m fairly certain I know who it is, and they’re in my office. That pisses me off unbelievably.

Walking softly down the stairs, I find a cockroach in an expensive hand-tailored suit going through my filing cabinet.

His name is Marcus Learner. He’s the nephew of Jacobi, the oldest and most powerful of my kind in the tri-state area. Jacobi is in charge because of his age; it’s how our kind function. Because of who his uncle is, Learner is a little spoiled, always has been. He gets away with a little too much.

Apart from having a similar addiction to arterial fluid, this thing and I share nothing, least of all any affection for each other. Why is he here?

“Wow! Is it asshole day, and nobody told me?” I startle him and he drops a handful of papers on the floor. Now I have more things to do, add cleaning up after nosey grease balls to the list.

“I was just… uh,” It’s funny to watch a feeble mind at work, as he tries to find words that make him sound smarter than the inbred hick he is. “Taking inventory. Seeing how these holdings were… allocated.”

“That’s my business. Not yours. Why are you in my house?” This is bold for him. Not completely out of character, but more brazen than I’m used to from him.

He steps out away from my cabinets as he slicks his coarse salt and pepper hair down. Looking around the room, his eye catches on a gold statue of Venus I have in the corner.

“Ya know, one day Jacobi will stop protecting you? You do know that, right?” He’s daring me to say something he can take back and ‘tattle on me’ for. “And when that day comes, all that you have will be mine.”

“Since when did you stop calling him ‘my uncle?’ You trying to sound like a grown up now?” I can tell that hit home. He looks like he’s about to start spitting bile, so I decide to beat him to the punch.

“Look, you’re pissin’ me off. I don’t want to spank you, but I will.” I take a step toward him and he flinches back. What a pussy. I motion toward the door.

”My horoscope today said I’d get into strange arguments or weird conversations”, I look him up and down dramatically, “I just didn’t know how weird it really meant. I think it’s time for you to be somewhere else, wasting someone’s time that isn’t mine.”

***

The Native Pines Trailer Park is little more than a modestly sized mud pit, with what’s left of broken asphalt roads and speed bumps dividing up a sea of rusty mobile homes and the used up husks of what were once people. Depression here is at a premium.

Frank pulls into the parking spot in front of the 1978 red, white and rust special that he’d arrested Calvin Hocker at all those years ago and it really felt like yesterday for him.

He steps out of the Charger and gets halfway to the door before he’s stopped by the neighbor across the way. “She don’t live there.”

“Excuse me? I’m sorry?” he asks, a bit baffled by the statement.

“You’re looking for Ally, right? She always has men stopping by.” The bulbous car wreck in a house coat walks closer before continuing in a quieter yell, as if to keep others from overhearing her shouts. “Her and Calvin, that good-for-nothin’, moved out by the airport. And good riddance to him. Poor girl, I was sorry to see her go. She coulda done so much better than that one, let me tell ya.”

Frank nods his agreement and looks around at the people standing around outside. He decides that he might be able to turn this to his advantage. “Did he hang around with any of the folks around here? Someone that might be able to tell me what all he’s been into? I’m a friend of her family, and I’d like to see that guy behind bars and away from her.”

She examines him for just a moment and then leans in close. “He’s been running around with a different crew than he used to, worse fellas, and his old friends don’t like it none.”

She points to a man on a piece of cardboard under a rusty old minivan. ‘That there is Freddie Tubbs. Calvin owes him money. If anyone knows, he does, and he ain’t too fond of ol’ Calvin right now.”

“I thank you, ma’am,” Frank says as he starts walking in the direction of Mr. Tubbs. The woman continues to talk behind him, but he’s gotten all he needed from her. He just keeps walking.

After a quick conversation with Freddie, a couple of bills from his wallet, and a twenty minute drive, Frank pulls into the driveway of one Calvin Hocker.

Stepping up onto the rickety old porch, he notices a cigarette still smoldering in an ashtray. Someone’s at home.

He bangs on the door twice and gets no answer, so he yells, “I’m looking for Calvin Hocker! I’ve got some questions, and I don’t want to kick the door in!”

The door opens just enough to let the barrel of a twelve gauge shotgun slide out. From the other side of the door he hears a woman’s voice. “Calvin’s not here, so get off my porch.”

Frank takes a step back and puts his hands up. “I’m not looking to hurt you, Ally. I just think you might be mixed up in something that’s more than you know how to get out of. Can you put the gun down and talk to me for a minute?”

It takes a few tense seconds before she pulls the gun back in, but then she opens the door and her face is streaked with tears. “Who are you, and why do you care?”

Allison, as it turned out, was not his girlfriend by choice. She was afraid of him. Breaking down to Frank, she says that she knows he was involved in setting the fire, she’s even heard him bragging about it. She’ll testify or swear out a statement, whatever he wants, as long as he’ll protect her from Calvin.

“He wasn’t always like this. He’s been really different lately. Hooked on some new drug, and running around with Carl McCreary. He’s beat me up pretty bad a few times, and I think he’s gonna end up killin’ me.”

It seems, Frank thinks to himself, that Calvin hasn’t really changed. Not from the guy he remembers anyway. He can’t let this girl get hurt any more, just for being stupid in choosing what man to lay down beside. Anyone with a soul couldn’t let this go on.

She shows him to the shed in the back of the house where there are drums of kerosene and more than a few automatic rifles, under a tattered rebel flag hanging on the wall.

He pulls out his cell phone and dials, holding it to his ear as Allison cries on his shoulder.

There’s ringing in his ear and then a voice crackles over the line, “Detective David Lewis.”

He turns his head away from her before he replies. “Lewis, I’ve definitely found your man, and I’m pretty sure what I’ve got on him will let the fire department’s arson investigator charge him; you’ll just have to pick him up. I’m bringing his girlfriend in to talk to you.”

***

“Allison!” Calvin screams as he enters the house. “I can see the tire tracks out there! Who was here?”

He crushes a cigarette out in the ashtray next to the sofa and listens impatiently. There’s no answer, only the hum of Calvin’s grow lamps.

“Allison! You’d better answer me! It’s gonna be bad if you make me have to come find you!”

There’s a loud knock at the door. He pulls back the thick yellowed curtains and looks out the front window to see his yard full of flashing red and blue lights.

“Allison, goddamn it! What did you do?”

A voice rings over a megaphone outside his door. “Calvin Hocker, this is the police. Come out with your hands above your head.”

He kicks the television off its stand, and it explodes in a shower of sparks on the floor. Looking at his pistol on the sofa he has a moment of pause, wondering if he could get out alive.

He shakes his head. There were too many of them out there. He’d have to play this one out. It was just an inconvenience. There’s no way he’d be left to rot in there for long. Jail would only be a brief pause, and then she’d pay for making this happen.

He lights another cigarette and opens the door. A long drag and exhale with a big toothy grin for the cops, and steps out with his hands up as instructed. They fall on him like a human wave. There’s only grunting and pain for a moment, and then the handcuffs are on and he’s hoisted to his feet and drug to the car where Lewis is waiting for him.

“Calvin. Long time, no see.” Lewis smiles, mocking him.

“Not long enough. Don’t you have something better to do faggot? Some asshole that needs fillin’ out there somewhere?”

It gives Lewis more pleasure than he’d like to admit pushing him down into the car. “Calvin Hocker, you are under arrest. Anything you say can and will be held against you…”

***

I’m lying in bed, falling in and out of sleep, when I hear my phone ring. Picking it up and looking at it, the Caller ID says it’s Frank. He knows I should be asleep; this better be good.

“Talk to me.”

“Lewis says they’ve got the guy who lit the house up in a cell downtown. You want me to get you in to question him?” Frank seems smugly proud of himself. I think he has a right to be this time so I say nothing about it.

“Yeah, set it up for tomorrow night.” I sit up in the bed, put him on speaker, and begin to type it into my phone so I won’t forget, and it occurs to me that Frank can help me with my other ‘Lewis issue.’ “And while you’re at it, tell your buddy Lewis that I had nothing to do with Mikey Moran’s death. He wants me to come in and answer questions. You and I both know that I haven’t spoken to Mikey in more than a year.”

“Mikey Moran. Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. He’s dead? What happened?” Frank’s gonna be hard to live with for a little while. He just made a bust, and his head swelled. I try to shake it off. Why should it bother me that he’s happy? Maybe it’s because I’m so miserable?

“According to your old partner he was found yesterday, all shot full of holes at the old train yard. I’ll bet he was skimming from someone who took offense. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I don’t know what he’s gotten mixed up in since he stopped driving for you. Do you even know what he’s been in to?” I sigh as I lie back down. I know he hears it. It should tell him that I’m done with this conversation.

“Word I’ve heard was he was working for some new guy in town, Molder, on small time intimidation and protection bullshit. Probably drugs, poor guy. But that’s what you get when you fuck with me. He’s lucky I let him live after I caught him. You don’t steal from my girls.”

“I’ll try to point Lewis in a better direction, but he never wants to hear anything about you from me. I can’t promise he won’t still want you to go see him.” He’s such a trooper. He’s earned his bonus this month, and he knows it.

“That’s fine. Just do something to keep him outta my ass for now, please. I’ve got a lot on my plate as it is.

CHAPTER 6

“HOCKER! YOU’VE GOT A VISITOR,” the Deputy Jailer Kenton calls from the door to C block. “Get down here!” He clangs his nightstick against the door to show his impatience.

Not seeing anything after a couple of minutes, he calls again, “Last warning, Hocker! Let’s go!”

Calvin takes his time slowly standing from his bunk, putting down the nearly shredded paperback copy of “Raise the Titanic” with a number two pencil as his book mark. He gives himself a look in the foggy mirror above his toilet and gives a nod to Marshall, his cell mate.

Descending the stairs painfully slowly for effect, he waves at the other prisoners in their cells. He acts like a celebrity. At the bottom of the stairs he gives a wide smile to the guard. He knows this is his ticket home, and he can’t help but piss off anyone in authority here that he can before he goes.

“Put your hands through the door, Hocker. I’ve got to put your jewelry on before you go see the nice man waiting for you.” Kenton holds the cuffs out and Calvin smiles at him as he slips his hands through the open rectangle in the door.

“Don’t worry, fat ass. When I sue this place for millions and put everyone here out of work, I’ll make sure you still have a job mowing my yard. I won’t let you starve. I know how hungry a big brown fella like you can get for fried chicken.” He spits the last two words onto the window in the door.

Kenton tightens the cuffs down on him a little tighter than is comfortable. “You better hope I don’t run into your redneck ass on the outside.”

Calvin just laughs. The door opens and he’s led in cuffs down the hallway and through another set of doors, ending up outside a door marked ‘private.’

Kenton opens the door and pushes Calvin toward it. He stops himself and looks back at the guard, easily three times his size. “Now watch it, big boy. You don’t want to give me a reason to be upset with you.”

A smirk crosses his face as he turns and steps into the small windowless room with the confident swagger of a man holding the world by the shorthairs. It only takes him two steps into the dimly lit space to realize he doesn’t know the man seated at the table. The door slams shut and he can hear the lock clank behind him. This wasn’t right.

He can tell this man is not a lawyer or a cop; he is a predator in a black leather trench coat. His eyes widen a bit, giving away his panic.

The man at the table smiles at him charmingly. The smell of fear like this is always an added bonus. “Hello there, Calvin. My name’s Garrett. You know something… or someone really, that I need to know more about. Have a seat.”

Garrett points to the chair and Calvin walks briskly over and sits down. Now he’s gone beyond fear. He’s deep in the throes of terror.

“I’d offer you a cigarette, but these days even the jails are nonsmoking.” He lets a sharp sigh. “Almost seems sacrilegious, doesn’t it? No more last smoke for the condemned man.”

Calvin doesn’t answer, as Garrett leans closer to him. Not only is he not in control of his body, it seems that this man is, and he can’t even scream for help. He can only stare into the man’s eyes in panic and pray silently in his head. He’s sure he’s about to die.

“Look deeply into my eyes. Lose yourself. This won’t hurt a bit. I just want your mind.”

***

The little girl’s eyes dart from side to side. She brushes the dirty, caked on black hair from her forehead and tries to stand, hitting her head on the top of her cage.

Somewhere in the distance a howl goes up. It’s a menacing sound, and – worse -- it’s definitely not an animal.

Her delicate hands wrap around the bars of her tiny prison, and she squints, determined to make out what is in the darkness around her.

It’s pitch-black, and smells of stagnant water. She knows there is something in the inky thickness that is tightly constricted around her, watching her. Something is there and it means to hurt her, and she is wet with a panicked sweat.

She lets go of a bar with one hand and darts her eyes quickly from looking down at her pocket to scanning the dark around her, not wanting to give whatever is there an opportunity to strike at her unaware. She fumbles in her pocket and finally finds what she was looking for.

Yanking her hand back up to head level, she holds out a brass key.

“Help me!”

***

My dreams are getting worse. For a ghost, Rachel haunts me more when she’s not around than when she is. It took months to adjust to having a child in the house, even if she is dead, and now the silence is strange. I want so badly to hear her playing or watching cartoons. Everywhere I look I feel her influence, things she’s touched, or questions she’s asked. If I don’t get that girl back soon I think I’ll lose my mind.

I throw on my clothes and head downstairs, thankful to be back home. There’s plenty of action, noise, and pleasant odors when the wealthy degenerates come to play. At least this much is as it should be.

Walking through the front sitting room it stands out that Julie isn’t there, and Leslie is filling in for her. Maybe she went out for food or something, but it’s not normal for her to go out with letting me know first.

The kitchen door swings shut behind me and I grab a bottle out of the warmer. Checking the time/date sticker a contented sigh escapes me. It doesn’t get any fresher without using my fangs. It’s a bit piggy of me, but I down the whole damned thing. Julie will get more, and she won’t mind. I’ll just feel bad, knowing I made her work a little harder.

I head out the back door and into the garage where I’m met with a sad and sorry fact. I own six cars and not one of them is here. Not even my ’72 VW. How does this even happen?

I pull out my phone and call Julie. If she left, she almost certainly took a car, and since she and I are the only ones who like to drive the VW, I’m guessing she’s in it.

Three more times I try. No answer. I don’t like this.

I’m pondering my next step, thinking I’ll call Frank, when he pulls into the driveway in my Charger. He idles up next to me slowly, with a big smile.

As soon as he’s out of the door, I’m on him, “Why aren’t you driving your own car?”

He looks at the empty garage and my purse in my hands and starts laughing. “Awww… Stuck at home on a date night?”

“Cute. Where’s your car?”

He stops laughing, but it’s written all over his smug face. “It’s in the shop getting new tires, where I told you it would be last week.”

He’s right. I remember now. “I don’t have time for this. Give me my keys. I have plans for later tonight that are financially important, and I still have to go find out what’s going on with the arsonist you had arrested. Everything still a go on that?”

“Yeah. But if you see Lewis, I haven’t talked to you. Remember, he wants a little face time with you.” He starts laughing again as he walks up to the back door.

I try to stay calm. My nerves are shot to hell lately and something that small and petty I can normally laugh along with. I mean, it is kinda funny that a girl with six cars could be stuck home standing in an empty garage. But in that moment, I really want to slap the shit out of him.

I need Rachel back home safe now. I don’t like feeling like this.

I start the car and point it downtown. Everything else is a blur. The music and the vibration of the engine are soothing and then I find myself looking out at the river, sitting at the foot of Broadway.

At least everything here is familiar. The diners in the ‘Tower of Seafood’ behind me were loudly enjoying their food, drink and company. The lights were on at the International Cross Stitching Museum, illuminating the playful statues on their front lawn. And even Homeless Cop was here tonight, wearing his hat and jacket that had been standard Pekin PD uniform issue in 1964, happily plodding along pushing his shopping cart.

I’m surprised at how much I’ve grown to appreciate sameness as the decades past. How much I’ve become resistant to change.

I pull on the river. I take strength from it. I think I can manage to deal with this Hocker creep now, without losing it and snapping him like a twig.

Idling out from the parking lot into traffic, I punch down on the accelerator slightly and the tires chirp. I actually let myself laugh. I can enjoy the night a bit more than I had been for the next few blocks to the courthouse area.

I pull up outside the jail, lock the car, and head inside smiling. After all, I’m on camera and I need to look my best.

I’m met in the waiting area by Marybeth Pugh. She’s Frank’s in at the jail, and she and I have met a handful of times over the last few years. We make small talk and she leads me back to a tiny little windowless room marked ‘private.’ She tells me to have a seat and that the guards will bring him right down.

Smiling warmly, I thank her, shocked to discover I’m in a good enough mood to be pleasant. I can hardly believe it.

There’s an odd feeling here, like a painful emotional echo. It’s not difficult for me to get a sense of a place, but this one’s essence is murky.

The mechanical clanking of the door opening draws my eyes to Calvin being pushed in toward me. His eyes are glassy and his whole demeanor is kinda sluggish, like he’d been drugged.

He doesn’t even raise his face as he almost limps further into the room and stops. He doesn’t even seem to notice me. The door slams shut and I can hear the lock clank from behind him. No reaction. It’s like he’s not even here.

This is totally wrong. I can’t read any emotion off this guy at all. He only looks up when I call out to him. “Hey there, Calvin. My name’s Veronica. You tried to burn down my house. I think we should talk about that. Don’t you?”

Not even a twitch from him. No reaction. I point to the chair across from me. “Have a seat.”

He does as he’s told, shuffling slowly to the chair. I call his name again to get him to look up, and I lock his gaze.

I drop down into his mind and it’s very dizzying. Like falling off a cliff and then losing what’s up and down. Falling, but not sure even what direction your headed.

This mind has been removed. Blanked. Like a magnet over a hard drive. He retained memory enough to live and do as he was instructed, but he had no memory of anything else, or ability to think freely on his own. He was a vegetable.

This was incredible and frightening. Someone can actually do this to another’s mind. That inspires awe deep within me. Someone beat me to this guy, and might have done it to keep me unaware. That’s the scariest thought I’ve had in a while; another of my kind actually trying to destroy me. And not a simpleton like Learner, but a person talented and dangerous.

Whoever did this is better at it than I am, and that means they aren’t local. If there’s someone here from outside the area Jacobi should know about it, and if he doesn’t know about it then I need to bring it to his attention.

I have this vegetable taken back to its cell, thank Marybeth for all her help again, and head back out to night air. And I had just been feeling so much better. Damn it!

I get into my car and bring the emerald beauty to roaring life. The miserable side to this is that to get to get a meeting set up with Jacobi, I’ll have to go through Learner. Sometimes I really hate the things I have to put up with.

CHAPTER 7

THE MOON IS OBSCURED BY a thick blanket of low hanging clouds, making the night more beautifully dark. It looks like rain, I think to myself as I pull up outside the Community Bank Building,

Parking on Broadway isn’t bad for a Saturday night. There are a few people still out roaming the streets by the bar a block up, but fairly quiet for midnight.

I turn the car off but I’m not ready to get out yet. I’m about to walk into the lion’s boardroom, and I know that Learner will be set for blood. I’m not sure how to play this. Jacobi and Jules got along well for a long time, and he’s never been bad to me, but that’s not to say he’s without his flaws. He chose this place for his office because it’s the second tallest building in Pekin. He feels important and likes to overwhelm.

I guess we all play to our strengths in life.

Setting my four inch heel on the sidewalk and standing up out of the car, I catch sight of myself reflected in the window of the building. In the black Gaultier suit Frank picked up for me in New York, I look like one of the exquisite dead things that Jacobi parades through here from the larger cities. I might even pass as refined.

When I set this up with Learner, he was a total prick about it. He tried to make it seem like I had caused a problem, and now he was doing me a favor to help get it fixed. I wish he’d just realize that I’m too smart for him to get one over on, and resign himself to our mutual hatred. Talking out of both sides of your mouth doesn’t work on me, fangs or not.

The doormen know me; they open the door when they see me coming. I can’t help but notice the addition of automatic weapons under their usual uniform coats. I guess we really are all planning for the worst tonight.

I cross the lobby and tap the up button as casually as I can. I’m on security cameras now. There really is no turning back. The ride up in the elevator and the few paces down the hall it takes to reach the door do not provide me nearly enough time.

I put my hand on the knob and take a deep breath before turning it. Stepping inside, I’m in a different world.

The room is obviously as elegantly appointed as I remember, but he’s had it redecorated. It’s darker, and more stylish than it had been. Half of the room is a dark wood toned sitting area, antique mirrors and torch lamp style lighting on the wall, with beautifully preserved Victorian furniture and a rug that could easily cost more than my car. The other half of the room is an executive meeting room. A custom made U-shaped table sits in the center of the room with chairs, tables, and a hand-carved bar against the three surrounding walls. This place is meant to impress and intimidate. It is as successful as its owner.

The room is already occupied, the rest of the council, of course, arrived before me. It’s rare that you have all eight of us in one place. I always stand out in these little meetings when I’m invited. I am the only one like us that has no seat on their little ruling council.

The others are being surface social, but still obviously in their family pods. Jacobi’s family was furthest from the door, his nephew Marcus Learner was standing and blustering to Preston Warner, his cousin. Preston had the style, the money, and the brainpower Learner lacked. He was actually someone to be feared, or would be in time. He was second to none, in this town, for his taste and his cold fickle way of dealing with people.

Standing near enough to them to hold conversation but dividing the room down the middle were Serena Carlson and her nephew Steven Carlisle. Theirs was a house divided, over the issue of support for Jacobi’s rule of the area. Serena was a former lover of Jacobi’s, but it was a relationship based on shared control of assets, not any pretense of emotion. Her silver blonde hair and conservative dress, all in white to match, revealed to a degree how ‘off’ she was. Her penchant for the clandestine secret arts was well known to all of us. She was easily the most perverse of the council, while Carlisle cared only for money and power, and all the trappings of it. Social niceties meant nearly nothing to him.

Closest to the door and talking to Carlisle are Gus Edelmann and his cousin Carson Dwight, not as well dressed, but obviously as wealthy. These were my people. They are too well moneyed for a working girl like me, but they come the closest to understanding what I do, and what it means. They were both working men before being chosen to be one of our kind. They have both aided me several times in the past, but always with the understanding that the council shouldn’t hear about it. I can appreciate that.

Then I see him, his eyes already on me, sitting motionless on the opposite side of the room. Adrian Jacobi is always dressed sharp as a tack, embodying an immaculate corrupting authority. If I were to be seduced by power, I would be his.

He allows me to stand awkwardly in the entryway long enough for all the conversations to die off and everyone to turn and gawk at ‘little orphan V’, before standing and announcing that we’d be going to the council table to sit. I doubt they’d admit it, but I think they all secretly love having me around to look down on.

They all file in around the table, taking their seats as a matter of ritual. Jacobi sits in the center, and has a silver mallet that rests in front of him.

There are no formal rules for how our kind should gather, but being the eldest he has his own dictated procedure that everyone accepts and follows. He’s earned his position by age, by surviving longer than his contemporaries, and that alone commands respect.

I know it’s intentional that, when they do actually consent to my presence, I have a chair that sits a good foot shorter than theirs. I don’t get to sit at their table. Just being in the room is gift enough as far as their concerned. I just keep telling myself that doing this is important, and screw them if they don’t like me. I look good.

Everyone is seated and the room is silent. Jacobi stares into me for a long moment, before banging his toy hammer and rising to speak. “We have all come together because I required it. It has been brought to my attention that Veronica has uncovered some disturbing facts that may well concern us all.”

They hang on his words, even if they do have little more than contempt for me. “Now, Veronica, what is this matter that so urgently requires our attention?”

All eyes are on me as I stand before the closest thing I have to my own species, feeling like an insect to be dissected and studied. Their family lines bind them just as much as their thirst for blood, and I was literally no relation. They would hear me out, because most of them owed me favors, however, none of them would put themselves at any risk for me. I’m crazy, not stupid.

“I believe there is, or has been, another of our kind in the city. One I don’t know.” Watching their faces, reading their emotions, they are all looking to Jacobi for an opinion and he is a stone.

I continue undaunted, explaining. “Calvin Hocker is a criminal who recently tried to burn down my house. When I went to question him and probe his mind for motives, I found that it was missing. His active mind and memories were entirely gone. Now, whatever did that was definitely not a breather. I believe this was done by another of our kind. One I’ve never met. To have the power over the mind that has been displayed would take some training and suggest age. I felt that was an important matter for the Council. Further, I strongly believe that Hocker, before his encounter with the creature I’ve discussed, may have been working with a large alliance of ghosts toward some greater end. I don’t know what it is, but it worries me. I know from my contacts among the spirits that there is a larger than normal amount of activity from unquiet spirits in the area; they are working in larger numbers and are more organized. These are things I’ve discovered or have been brought to my attention. I believe they might all be connected. I felt it was my duty to inform the Council.”

I look at the grandfather clock behind Jacobi when I’ve finished and realize I’ve kept them all quiet and seated for far longer than I had intended. There is an uneasy lull while they all look at one another and to their eldest for his thoughts.

Finally, Learner has had enough and he stands to face me, saying, “And why are we even sitting and wasting the time to listen to your ridiculous speech? It’s nothing more than a request for our help, right? You come here with a hand held out to us asking for us to clean up a mess for you? Spirits are after you? Criminals are trying to burn down your house, and so you scramble their brains and don’t want to be held responsible if we find out? If there really is something going on, how do we know you didn’t cause it? Why don’t we just order you to investigate these matters further and solve your own problem?” Learner blurts it out without considering his own contradiction, or the company he’s in.

He has got to be a disappointment to his uncle. He lacks his family’s rapier wit, common sense, and worst of all by choice, their education. It’s all I can do to hold back a laugh.

“Nephew, you speak out of turn.” His words are soft, but forceful.

“But uncle, this snotty little bitch is probably lying just to set us up, or trick us. She openly admits to consorting with spirits. I’m not going to just be lead around by…”

“Silence!” Jacobi shouts, interrupting his tirade. “I don’t ask that you like what I say. I simply require that you do as I tell you.”

Serena stands and waits to be recognized. When she is she addresses the room, but doesn’t take her eyes off Learner, who is clearly uncomfortable in her gaze. “As much as I don’t want to, I agree slightly with Marcus. She isn’t a part of any of our families. Plotting against us isn’t so ludicrous an idea. However, I too, have noticed oddities of late. Word has been brought to me by the spirits I choose to consort with that leads me to believe there are strange and perhaps dangerous things afoot. I believe looking into these parts of her claims is not without merit.”

Glances are shared around the room and it would seem that about half of them still agreed with Learner. This is why I don’t spend a lot of time around my own kind. At least now, though, I knew they were divided on it. Now I knew that they had heard what was going on, and I wouldn’t be put to death later for withholding information that could harm us all.

Jacobi stands and the murmuring and accusing looks all stop. “I will look into this matter personally, as a favor to you, Veronica. I should hate to put it to a vote of the Council and have you find little support. I do not wish you to lose face here, but I must also advise that you keep a lower profile. Your name keeps coming up in all the wrong places and not just on my nephew’s lips.”

He looks to Serena. “Do you wish to inform me of your findings in this matter as well?”

She nods, and looks at me. She and I both know that this means I owe her. I know my place here, but I will never stop hating it.

Jacobi‘s tone changes and he smiles at me. “It is no secret that I favor you, but there are those here who do not share my thoughts and feelings when it comes to you. Do not forget that what binds us as a council is more than what we are, but who we are. This is why you are not afforded a voice. You are an orphan in a room of three families. While we all respect the one who made you, you are not his family, only his blood. That will only carry you so far on our good graces. Tread lightly, child, the ice is thin.”

***

The business of pleasure is in full force, and proving to be quite lucrative this evening. Julie has gone through all the wine she had prepped for the night, and now she’s heading down the stairs to the basement to get a few more bottles.

Looking over her list she hits the bottom step and turns right, fumbles with her keys, finds the right one, and opens the door to the climate controlled wine storage closet.

She thought it was funny that the thirty by thirty pressurized room, with its stainless steel skin, was called a closet. She knows the contents of this closet, as well or better than the contents of her clothes closet, so it takes only a few scant moments for her to load an empty wooden box with the eight bottles on her list.

A smile breaks across her face as she thinks about what she’s doing, the responsibilities she has. It’s a long way from the high school dropout, country girl turning tricks at truck stops she’d been, not all that long ago. Fine wine and designer clothes trump beer from the discount bin and motel towels every time. This place, her work, and V. Smiling seemed like the natural thing to do.

She closes the door behind her, ready to head back up, and starts looking for the key to lock back up behind her, when she feels a tingle up her spine. Her breath puffs out in front of her, as the temperature takes a sudden dip.

She has a feeling of eyes on her, and the hair on her arms stands straight up. She stands motionless and listens.

There’s a ripping sound behind her, making her whip around and freak out a little at the ghostly form standing before her.

Waving her hands, she tries to fight off a panic attack. “Lucy, why do you sneak up on people like that?”

Lucy tilts her head slightly, considering the question before ignoring it, saying that she was here to talk to Veronica. Julie explains to her that V had a ‘family meeting’ to attend tonight because she thinks a new bloodsucker may be in town. This news only seems to add to Lucy’s terse mood.

“I need you to deliver a message to Veronica.” She says it with such sternness that Julie feels compelled, to her core, to do what is being asked of her. “I now have reason to believe that Rachel actually is being hunted by a veritable army of unquiet spirits. I have confirmed through sources in the Baron’s service that these spirits are definitely the ones who killed Rachel, and I now know that they have also been looking for her, ruthlessly.”

The room starts to fade for Julie, lost completely in the glow Lucy is radiating, her face becoming the only focus of vision, her words overpowering the ability to think.

“I believe that this Paco creature has Rachel.” Lucy’s contempt at even the sound of his name is palpable. ”Perhaps to help hide her, perhaps to give to the spirits to buy himself protection. It’s of no concern to me why he might have her, only that he not be allowed to continue to hold her, if he has her. Veronica needs to know he’s a player in this.”

“I think I understand all that.” Julie has a lot of respect for Lucy, even if she isn’t as in tune with dead things as V is. “I’ll tell her when she gets back. We’ve all been really worried about Rachel.”

“Tell her that I am going to try to acquire Rachel, if he has her. There are forces on many sides that may try to stop me. If I am not successful, she has to make sure Rachel is located and protected.”

“I understand.” Julie barely utters the somber words before she’s gone. Standing alone in the basement, she’s now aware of how much darker it is in the wake of Lucy’s disappearance. She’s sure she’ll never completely adjust to some parts of her life working for V.

Something brushes against her leg. Looking down, she sees a black cat, tail flicking, rubbing around her feet. She picks it up and scratches its head. “Aren’t you precious?”

The cat begins to purr as she carries it back up the stairs with her, talking to it in baby talk. “You look like the cat out by V’s other house. Yes you do. Must be your sister, huh? Yeah. You want some milk?”

CHAPTER 8

THE RUNDOWN HOUSES ON MLK sit close enough together that a person almost has to turn sideways to walk between them. It’s obvious if you look at them closely that they all once looked fairly similar, but years of rot, patchwork repairs, and odd colors of paint bought at discount prices have made them each their own individual train wreck.

Frank stands on the front porch of the widow Moran’s house and tries to help her restrain her pit bull as it attempts to flee into the night. Once the dog is contained behind the storm door, he wishes her goodnight and walks the eight feet to his car, checking to make sure no one molested it while he was inside.

He still drives the unmarked sedan he’d bought and used when he was on the force. Most people in a neighborhood like this would be less likely to go after a car they thought a cop was driving. They didn’t need the attention.

Jennifer Moran had very little in the way of helpful information, but she did say one thing that Frank had a hard time not rolling over and over in his mind. ‘Mikey was finally making good money since he went to work driving for that Hocker guy.’ He didn’t believe in coincidences anymore, at least not the kind that lined bad people up together. She had to have been talking about Calvin.

He puts the car in gear and heads in the direction of fast food. His stomach demanded that he eat, no matter how hard he was working.

Sitting in the drive thru, his phone lit up. It was Lewis. This was perfect; he could ask him about the Hocker connection and honestly try to pull him back off of V.

Flipping open the phone, he dives in. “I was just thinking about you, Dave. And before you ask, you were fully dressed in all my thoughts. Well, all of them this time.”

“And just what put me on your mind?”

“Well, I just came from the Moran house. And Jenny said the strangest thing. I’m sure you have it in your note from when you or your people talked to her, but it struck me as odd that she’s says Mikey was working with Hocker. You don’t think she meant Calvin, do you?” He was being a smartass, and Lewis could hear his smile through the phone.

“You got me. I didn’t know about that connection. I’ll have to drop by and ask her about that tomorrow. That’s a good lead, man, thanks.”

Now he was ready to pick the fight. “So now you can ease up off Ms. Fischer, right?”

“Oh, yeah. I guess if this pans out then I won’t have to talk to her after all.”

Frank knew this wasn’t right. He had something else on his mind. Normally he’d bark loud and long at the mention of V’s name and now he was just going along with the tip, with no question of the motive for it.

“Now that I’ve given you the news tip of the year, why don’t you tell me why you were calling? Lonely?” Being bubbly and jovial might draw more out than just pointing out how obvious he’s being.

“I just wanted to touch base with you, that’s all.”And now there was a nervous tone in his voice. Either he was calling for a date, or he needed a favor.

“We both know that’s a lie, now don’t we? Did you need something?” Pushing a little harder, but trying not to start a fight.

“Well, there is this one thing. I wouldn’t bring it up, but I’ve got next to nothing on it, and you usually work magic with cases like this.”

And there it was. Frank was swelling with a smug feeling of importance. His old partner had come to him for help, was starting to count on his assistance again.

“Tell me what about it. What’s the case?”

Lewis answers with a clear hesitation in his voice. “It’s vandalism at St. Joseph’s cemetery. Someone thought it would be a good idea to dig up a grave and run off with a body. To make matters worse, it was a child’s body.”

“Why is it so urgent for you?”

“Because it’s gonna be in the paper in the morning that a little girl’s body was dug up stolen from the cemetery. C’mon, Frank, you remember what this is like. I have to wrap this up and put it to bed fast. People are already up my ass to have this solved.”

“Is she from a good family or recently deceased; what’s the angle on it?”

“No, she’s not connected to anyone, the church paid for her plot. Name was Rachel Gregory. Died a little over a year back. No family.” I can tell he’s looking at his notes. “She was living with her aunt, who died in a trailer fire. She was found about a week later badly beaten and half eaten, in a field. She didn’t even make the paper then, but now that she got dug up, now she’s news.”

All Frank can think now is how badly V’s going to take this, and hope she wouldn’t blow up on him. He had to tell her before she saw it in the news though.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll look around and ask some questions, see what I can find.”

Lewis sighs. “Thanks. Anything you can do is appreciated.”

“Yeah. No problem. I gotta go.” His reply is somewhat vacant, but Lewis doesn’t even notice. He hangs up and stares at the phone for a second and then at his tacos getting cold. He didn’t want to call her, but he knew it had to be done.

He hits the green button, and says a little prayer in his head.

***

I don’t remember falling asleep. Stress has become a constant mountain climb. Tired isn’t an option, and as long as I don’t know where Rachel is and people are out to tear me down or annihilate me outright, neither is real rest.

I got home near dawn and locked myself in my room with the do not disturb sign on the door. The last time I looked at the clock it was two in the afternoon, and now it’s seven at night. How the time flies. I’m on my bed, still covered in the musty books Gus let me borrow, a haphazard record of all of our kind he’s encountered over the last century. Jacobi would shit diamonds if he even knew these books existed, let alone that I had them here.

Going over all these names, the active dead and those who are no more, I can find no mention of anyone outside myself that has the ability to completely remove memories from people’s minds. Others can alter memories, even Jacobi can do that, but remove someone’s mind entirely, their essence? No one. At least none Gus knows of, firsthand or in rumor.

Wandering into the bathroom I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The next morning is never as glamorous, but damn. My hair looks like I’ve been in a hurricane.

I turn on the water as hot as I can stand it and start the shower. I need this so very bad, to look vaguely like myself again, and to feel at least a little more relaxed.

Slipping out of my clothes, I’m already experiencing something I haven’t in a long time: shower anticipation. I really can’t wait to get in the hot water, and just let it pour over me for at least an hour.

I almost can’t stand it but I know I need to take the time to get the room ready. Avoiding the mirror I get scented candles, incense, and turn on some soft music to help ease my tension.

Setting up my scrubs, fragrance mist, thick soft robe, and towels for proper pampering once I’m out, I catch a look at myself again. I have to hurry and get in so I don’t do that again.

Pulling back the curtain the steam hits me like a wall, a warm wall of heavenly goodness, enfolding me as I step onto the stone floor of the shower.

I take a deep breath, in through the nose, and then slowly out through the mouth, trying to let the stress flow out with it. Trying to clear my mind of everything, I put a generous amount of my lavender and chamomile scented body wash on my loofah. This is how life should be.

Then there’s a fracture, a break in my calming little bubble. I hear my phone ringing. I do my best to ignore it, and it stops. They’ll leave a voice mail and I’ll check it later.

It starts ringing again. I can barely contain myself, saying aloud, “I’m in the shower. Really?”

I unwillingly force my body out of the cascading paradise to pick up the phone as it starts ringing the third time. It’s Frank. This must be important or he wouldn’t keep blowing up my phone. It slips out of my hand and pops open on the tile floor.

As I bend down to pick it up it occurs to me I might not want water inside my phone, so I grab a towel and dry my hands. This is becoming too much effort.

I put the battery back in, and click the phone together. Waiting while it powers up and comes on, I dry off the rest of me. I should turn off the shower but I just can’t bring myself to give up on it yet.

As soon as the screen tells me the phone is ready for use it rings again. This time I open it and answer. “I assume Armageddon is at hand, the way you’re calling me.”

Frank’s voice is steady and calm. “V, we need to talk.”

There’s immediately a cold knot in the pit of my stomach. No good conversation in the history of human speech has ever started that way. Apparently there will be no shower or relaxation.

“Just talk.”

Frank chooses his words carefully, speaking softly and slowly. ”I was doing some leg work tonight on the Moran murder situation, and I found out that Mikey had been working with Calvin Hocker.”

I can hear in his voice that there is more that he’s trying to figure out how to say. “Continue.”

“I called Lewis, and you’re off the hook there. He’s following up the Hocker lead. But while I was on the phone with him he asked if I’d do him a favor.” He pauses, and that’s enough for me to know that the favor is the problem.

“What? Does he want you to spy on me or something?” The thought disgusted me; what could be worse?

“It’s gonna be in the paper tomorrow, and likely on the news tonight. They’re calling it vandalism right now, but someone dug up and stole a body from St. Joe’s. The police have no leads, and Lewis asked if I’d help him out.”

Another long pause. I don’t know where this is going, but I’m already sure I don’t like it.

“V, it’s Rachel.” He says it and I go into shock. “Whoever it was that stole her body stayed off the radar. The police don’t have any leads yet.”

First I’m stunned by the audacity of some people, and then I’m offended. Both are really just detours on my way to the inevitable destination: I’m furious.

Frank listens as I scream curses that would offend near anyone within earshot. I can’t calm down. This is too much.

When I stop screaming Frank mistakes the silence as calm, not just a lack of more profanity to spew.

“V, I promise you. I will get to the bottom of this. I will find out what happened, and we’ll fix this,” he says, doing his best to sound confident and reassuring.

“Fuck! Yeah. Get on it. Call me with updates. I’m gonna get my shit and head out. I’ll call you when I’m mobile.” I’m terse, but I manage to hold back my rage from Frank. I snap the phone closed, turn off the shower, and finish toweling off.

I’m having the worst month of my life, and the cherry on top is that other people’s suffering is making up the biggest part of it. What the hell else could go wrong?

I get dressed quickly in clothes I wouldn’t mind getting someone else’s blood on, and head downstairs to get a drink, still fuming.

Julie walks in and catches me in the kitchen, with a bottle of blood in one hand, and a bottle of rum in the other.

“I have some messages for you.” She takes out her notebook and sets it down on the counter. Looking over her daily planner files she reads aloud. “Harry from the storage place called and said you are late on your payment for you unit.”

“That’s great.”My sarcasm could wilt cacti.

“Your therapist’s office called because you missed your appointment.” She looks up with a wince.

“Why do they care? They’re gonna bill me anyway.” I tip a bottle to my mouth and am pleasantly surprised that it’s rum.

She continues, unfazed. “They said to let you know that your appointment for next month is at the usual time.”

“And trust me, I look forward to it.”

“Oh, also, I’m sorry I didn’t get to tell you earlier, but Lucy was here while you were out. She left a message for you, too.” She always saves the good ones ‘til last.

“She didn’t want to wait, V. I’m sorry.” Julie is sincere, but I don’t think she understands everything that’s going on, why I’m going slowly crazy.

I look into Julie’s eyes and ask her what Lucy said. She jumps a little at the vivid experience of reliving her own memory as I watch. You’d think she’d be used to it by now.

Today just keeps getting better and better. Grave robbers, spirit armies, Paco, and Lucy running off into forces of doom halfcocked. When do I catch a break?

“Paco? Really?” I ask it out loud, making Julie think I need an answer.

“She didn’t say any more than… well you saw what she said… I don’t know who Paco is.” She’s stressing now too. I love this girl.

“I do.” I put the bottle of rum down, and drape my arm around her. “Look, don’t worry. I’m gonna head out and find Lucy, then I’m gonna meet up with Frank. Just look after the house and call me if anything comes up.”

***

It’s been seven hours. I’ve been all over the city. I’ve checked the alley, the bar on Broadway, the cemetery on Park Avenue, and the ranch house. There are no other places she frequents that I can even get to. It’s now three in the morning and I have no idea where else to look for Lucy.

I’m coming a little unglued. Usually if I’m looking for Lucy, she finds me. It’s always a much shorter search than this. Frank is already back at the Jefferson House waiting on me and I’m really at the end of my rope.

First Rachel vanished and now Lucy. It’s like having my mother and daughter stolen, and having no clue who the thief is. I don’t know what to do or where to look anymore.

Standing at the foot of Broadway again, letting the wind batter me, I feel like my life has spun off its axis. I realize that there’s only one option left, and I don’t like it.

I need to call Paco.

That can’t go well. Having to deal with that thing never is. My kind drinks the blood of the living, he eats their flesh. That’s the closest to something in common I have with him… it.

I take in a deep breath, looking out at the lights moving down the river. Slowly, I let my gaze move upward to the blue-black crushed velvet sky and all its twinkling LED lights. I’m going to regret this.

I scroll down to Paco’s number and hesitate, letting my finger hover over the green button for a few more moments before finally shaking my head at my lack of options and pressing it.

The phone rings so long I expect voice mail to pick up. I’m surprised when there’s a crackle on the line and then a voice that makes my skin crawl. “Who is this?”

“It’s Veronica Fischer; we’ve met before through Jules and Jacobi. I have a spirit related situation I need to talk to you about.”

CHAPTER 9

THE GREASY SPOON IS BATHED in the yellowed glow of light fixtures covered in more than a decade’s worth of nicotine film. Smoking hasn’t been allowed inside for almost six years, but the distinct odor still hangs in the air and breathes out from the walls. It’s a gritty place, but not quite what I’d call dirty; the kind of place you only find on the outskirts of small rural towns in Middle America.

I know a few of the regulars here, but it’s well past the hour they’d be out and about. At three o’clock on a Friday morning the place is usually as dead as it is tonight.

Only one car in the lot, and I’d recognize the rusty old yellow conversion van anywhere. He beat me here. Why was he so eager to meet with me?

It’s impossible to miss him in the corner booth, being generously avoided by the waitress on duty. The fact is that Paco would be impossible for anyone living to help but notice. But for those with senses as keen as my kind possess, it’s almost painful to be near him.

The smell of death and rot waft off him like heat from a flame. I don’t know much about how he came to be, or if there are more of his kind, but I certainly hope not. Rumor has it that he made himself this way. He doesn’t feed off the blood of the living, but their flesh. The breathers either can’t or won’t see him for what he really is. I wish I was so lucky.

His skin fit him loosely, like a wet suit six sizes too big. His vacant, sunken black eyes were haunting, while the holes and tears that covered his body, allowing me to see the maggots and other vermin that infested him, would be more than enough to make me wretch if I still used my stomach.

I hate to even be near him, but needing something from him is deeply unsettling. His prices for anything are almost always more than anyone wants to pay, but he has an uncanny way of having just what you need -- if you’re willing to meet his price. That’s the only reason I can come up with why Jacobi has suffered him to call this place home for these past twenty years. The council looks at this little trash peddler as even less than me.

I walk slowly over to his table and he gives me what passes for a smile as I approach. I firmly believe he knows how much he disgusts me, and revels in my discomfort at his presence.

“I think you have something that belongs to me.” My voice is quiet, but carries a cutting edge.

“Now that’s not very social of you; cutting right to business like that. Sit down and be social. I don’t get a lot of time with pretty dead things like you. Where’s your manners? For that matter, where’s all that lovely skin you’re so fond of showing? Hiding it from me?” He says it with a smile that lets me know he’s enjoying this. He might make this more difficult than I’d anticipated.

I sit across the small table from him, and he clearly doesn’t approve. He motions to the chair next to him, and his vacant eyes seem to compel my proximity. I’ve little more than come to rest in the seat next to his when he slides his chair inches away from mine. I might well have to punish his insolence later, but until I get what I’m here for I have to endure his audacious advances.

“You know where she is?” My question hangs in the air as he stares at me. His facial muscles constrict enough that I can tell he’d be squinting at me if his face could afford the expression.

“Where who is? You don’t mean that little spirit girl you’ve grown so attached to lately, do you?” His laughter reminds me of an incompetent villain from a bad 80’s TV show. It would be funny in a sad way if it weren’t coming out of that hideous face.

He must think he’s really funny too because he seems to find it hard to stop laughing at all his own little jokes.

“I don’t know where she is right now, sweet thing, but I know places she’s been. I might even be convinced to look for her, for you. You’re gonna get a lot nicer to me though, if you want me to do anything with her once I find her, that wouldn’t just hurt your feelings and hers.” His words almost drip with nauseatingly evocative poison.

My body instinctively swallows, some things never get unlearned. I summon all my willpower, and smile at him suggestively.

“Where have my manners been?” I roll my eyes and bite my lower lip for the briefest moment. I can tell he notices the gesture. “What did you have in mind? I mean, I can be a really nice girl... or a really naughty one. It all depends. What will it take for her to find her way to my house?”

I did my very best to look at him with wide-eyed innocence. We both knew it was an act, but he was a paying client now, and I had to do my best to treat him like one. Even if that meant making myself sick.

***

I begin to question my sanity at going with him as we pull into the sewage treatment plant. He assures me that all will be above board and on the level, as he opens the door and escorts me to the overflow tunnels. I can already smell that no matter what else he can promise me, he doesn’t intend for this to be sanitary.

We walk down a series of steps and then a long tunnel, and as the heat and moisture grow, so too does the vile aroma of old death.

“There. That’s where I want you.” He stops and points down into a sealed release tunnel with a debris trap. I have no idea how deep it actually is, but it‘s filled to within three feet of the main tunnel floor.

He pointed again, and I closed my eyes, disrobed and stepped in.

Most disgusting place I could imagine being in doesn’t begin to cover this, and I’m naked. Dead rats, live rats, human waste, animal waste, rotting garbage, and a thick layer of scum and muck built up over decades.

He wants three hours of my time, just three hours with my body, three ghastly hours in this pit. To do with me as he sees fit. It seems like a fair, if not completely nauseating, trade. What have I gotten myself into?

I turn to face him and to my surprise it really can get worse. He’s naked.

“You’re a professional… high class. I expect you to make me believe you’re enjoying yourself. You’d better sell it too, if you want what I’ve got to offer.” He utters the words with all the warmth I’d expect from a reenactment of Deliverance.

He grabs my body and pushes me to my knees in front of him. I get a cold, sick feeling in my stomach. I was really hoping to avoid this and get straight to the act.

I open my mouth and the taste that invades me accompanying his body is the single most sickening thing I’ve ever encountered. I’m focusing on the taste, trying to compare it to something, anything, that it would be near to and I find nothing. Focusing on it however keeps me occupied enough to not consider what’s happening, and further allows my mind to wander just enough to keep from purging.

I count time in my head. He’s been at this for almost half an hour, my jaw is aching like it may never close again, and my throat is raw almost to the point of bleeding, when he jerks back out of my lips. He steps behind me and all but falls down on top of me, forcing my hands out in front of me and into the rotting pile to keep me from landing on my face.

Again, there is no pretense of kindness as he forces himself into me. I try to act as though this is the best I’ve ever had, it’s almost not possible, but I can hear him chanting ‘yeah, bitch’ behind me so I assume he’s a believer.

Leaning forward onto me he pulls my arms behind me and my face finally does drop. I manage to close my eyes just before I’m coated past my neck in decomposition.

He only speeds up, shoving my torso down in the thick rancid liquid. With each thrust he pounds my face further into soft smelly things I have no desire to identify.

From behind me I can feel him rubbing things he’s picked up in this putrefied depository on me and then he starts to shove them in me. I try to tell myself that this is only for a finite amount of time, and I continue to squirm back into him and moan like a good little slut.

Only two thoughts keep running through my mind over and over. ‘Is whatever rotting disease this asshole has catching?’ and ‘how many times will I have to bathe in bleach to get his stink off of me?’

I think I’ve finally reached my limit. Nothing else he can do will make this worse. He pulls my hair hard, arching my back, and rubs a handful of muck into my mouth.

I groan and grind down on him and begin to gag a little on something in my mouth. Moving my tongue I realize it’s a tampon and I’m all set for killing this son-of-a-bitch when I’ve got Rachel back.

I now understand the deal we’d made. He wasn’t looking for physical pleasure or release, he was only trying to humiliate and debase me.

He arches back, I assume to proclaim he’s finished. He rolls back off me and I finally lose the control I’ve held over my reflex to vomit as I realize he’s left something, a part of himself, inside me.

“Call it a tip,” he snickers, buttoning his pants and standing above me. If this guy only knew the month I was having. He only gets to be a part of why my life is sucking right now.

***

Driving back to the house I do everything I can to keep my mind off of what’s been on and in me, and how long it’s going to take to clean out my car. I know I’ll keep reliving that, like it or not, but I intend to do all I can to put it out of my head. I’ll have to kill him one day. There’s no way around that.

Paco assured me that he doesn’t have Rachel. He thinks I need to go to the Sikes Funeral Home to look for her, so I guess I have my plans for tomorrow night. He says he knows that Rachel was there a few nights ago, and might still be, according to some of his contacts on that side. He’s going to dispatch spirits he works with to ask around too and see if they can come up with any sightings of her since she was seen last at the funeral home.

Going there is the only logical next step. I know that Lucy has gone there before to meet with other ghosts, so it really might be a great place to start.

I’m gagging. Even with the windows down I can’t get going fast enough on these roads to vent the smell out of the car. I need his help, but this is awful.

Right now, I’ve got to stay focused on what I’m doing. Watch the road and think about the plan.

He says that Lucy never made it to meet with him, but with the larger than normal amount of dangerous spectral creatures working together in concert, it’s no wonder. He says he’s heard rumors of some larger malevolent entity pulling the strings of these unquiet spirits.

I’m not sure if I believe him or not, but what he says does match up with what Lucy was telling me. I tried to read him and either he can hide his mind really well, or whatever he is keeps me from being able to get anything but ‘dead’ off of him. It makes me a little nervous, but for now, I’ll have to take his word.

He claims that the locket Lucy gave me is a tie to her. I already wear it all the time, so that’s a step in the right direction to locating her. He did some kind of chant over it and now it’s supposedly imbued with some sort of power that makes it shinier to spirits, or something. It’s supposed to let me know when she’s close to me.

I pull into the driveway, park, and slide out of the car. My skin is crawling all over as I walk to the back door naked. I told Paco to burn my clothes but he’ll likely hang onto them as some sick souvenir. Creepy.

I walk into the house and pass Julie on my way upstairs. She cocks her head to one side and looks at me like she’s got a question.

Before she can even speak, I stop her. “Don’t talk, just listen. If anyone needs me that isn’t you or Frank, I’m dead or not here. Nothing disturbs me, or gets me out of the shower or the bed until tomorrow. Nothing.”

I don’t look back, but I can feel her bewildered stare on me as I continue up the stairs. Right now, I really don’t care.

The moans coming from the rooms I pass in the upstairs hallway usually conjure deliciously wicked mental images in my head.

The sounds of this place make me love what I do. Now they only take me back to where I was this evening and make me want to wretch.

I really can’t get to the shower fast enough.

CHAPTER 10

THE SIKES FUNERAL HOME HAS never been one of my favorite places. Not under the best of circumstances. It’s older than me, and full of energy that can be felt radiating off of it like a giant Tesla coil. It gives me the creeps and I have to stand outside for more than fifteen minutes just to build up the nerve to go in.

I find the side door on the rear of the building unlocked as always. That much is familiar. The light switch inside the door does nothing, so I stand still for a moment letting my eyes adjust. I can feel something watching me, like an animal in the darkness, and I am suddenly aware of every hair on my body. This is what they’re talking about when they say a hunter is hunted.

It takes only a moment for my eyes to adjust to the lack of light in the building. The doorway to the main parlor is plainly in view. Moving forward, my hand finds the knob and turns slowly to avoid making any unnecessary noise.

Inching into the room, it’s clear something is wrong here. There’s a tingling sensation up my legs and back before I can even really focus on the parlor’s details. There are silhouettes of people, but I can see through them. It’s like shadows were cast and left behind to do as they please. Lost in the surreal sight of them for a moment, I inch further into the room without noticing that some were now moving behind me.

There is no warning. I’m suddenly in the air, and moving backward rapidly toward the wall. It’s almost a full second before my body registers the actual pain of the blow my stomach just took. Being hit by a car doesn’t even compare to this, and I didn’t even see it coming.

“For a shadow, you hit like a sledgehammer!” The words barely escape before something else slams into the base of my skull, imbedding most of my upper body in the wall and all but removing my head. These things are like Lucy; the disembodied dead who haven’t moved on. I’ve never met others that can actually touch things physically; they must be fairly potent.

I pull my face out of the hole it had been planted in, letting plaster dust fall, coating my chest and legs like snow. Looking around quickly I try to gauge my surroundings. I can’t see them, but I know they’re there. Is one easy night without a huge dry-cleaning bill too much to ask for these days?

I only have time to dwell on it a moment before my head is bouncing off the hardwood floor; once, twice, and then a third time in quick succession. Now ‘pick splinters out of my forehead’ can be added to my Saturday night to-do list. Damn it, this is not going as planned.

I drag myself up and stand, shaking with rage, in the center of the room. The shadows are moving all around me. “Look!” I yell. “I’m not here to disturb you… whoever you are. I don’t want any trouble. I’m looking for a little girl named Rachel. I’m friends with Lucy. She comes here off and on to meet other spirits. She told me that. I can’t find her lately either, and I’m worried. If you know anything that can help me, I’ll thank you and be on my way.”

The shadows start to close in like the lights in the room were a dying fire. There’s a chill in the air around them and I can feel the temperature dropping drastically the nearer they get. Hopefully they don’t want to keep beating on me.

My hope is quickly dashed on the casket to my right, along with my now cracked pelvis. I struggle against the force of their battery, but I’m as effective as a trailer park against a tornado.

One by one they crash into me. The world spins, and I know that some of it is actually the result of my body being batted about in the air.

Kicking and swinging in a vain attempt to fight back, it becomes apparent that nothing, even escape, is a viable option now.

My body is hurled to the floor repeatedly, cracking and splintering as much wood as bone.

I can’t keep up with the damage they’re doing to me. I’m healing as fast as I can, but not quickly enough to stay fully conscious. The world begins to flicker in and out and I feel there’s a risk of my head floating away.

I’m pounded into the floor again and I begin to panic, afraid this will be the last time I’ll be able to remain aware. Then something makes an awful high pitched noise. I know it’s in the room with me; somewhere off behind me to the right. There is a blinding flash of light and I‘m wishing I hadn’t landed face down.

With all the strength I have left in me, I roll over and try to convince my eyes to focus through the pain.

I can see the shadows have fled, but I’m not alone. There he is, standing in the center of the room, outlined in red from the light of the emergency exit signs. How did he get here so fast? Why didn’t I sense his presence? How did he even know I was in trouble? Nothing is making any sense. I stare, trying to wrap my mind around what I’m seeing, and then I gasp audibly, drawing attention to myself.

His head snaps in my direction, and he takes a defensive posture. His head cocks slightly to the side and I know his face, and the motion of what he’s doing. I’ve been through it before, he’s reading me.

“Jules?” So small, my voice is hardly more than a squeak.

“Who?” His reply shakes me and leaves me ill prepared for what follows. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but there are going to be a lot more of them, and unless you really want to wait around for that, I suggest we get out of here.” He’s looking deeper into me than I’m comfortable with, but I’m powerless to stop him.

“I can see you’re weak. Here, drink.” He offers his arm outstretched. I am at once intrigued, afraid, and repulsed. Unfortunately, I am also too hungry to really ask any questions.

His flavor is unquestioningly delicious. I’m surprised and intoxicated by him. I’ve only ever tasted Jules, no other of my own kind. It’s hard to take in, feeling a bit drunk, and my head is swimming.

The sensation is like no other in the world. I can feel the warmth spreading out from my mouth, down my throat. The heat begins to engulf what was once the center for human stimulation.

I am aware of my body and am now aware of my lack of control over it. I do not have to breathe, nor does my heart beat unless I make it do so, but he’s commanded both involuntary human responses in me.

I can hear the blood rushing in my ears as my pulse quickens. I’m breathing heavily, almost panting for breath. I know this sensation, but it’s been so long since I’ve felt it.

My muscles are reacting to it of their own accord. His fluid is filling me, and my body seems more under its command than my own. I can’t help but to continue to drink as the tension in me builds.

He’s saying something but I can only hear my own heart racing. I can only feel the long absent contraction of muscles, as the tension in me grows. I am only aware of him now by the masculine odor of him. Not sweat, but an overpowering aroma of cologne, leather, and earth.

I’m fighting just to keep my eyes open, and I can’t stop the guttural moan from escaping my throat as he pours down into me, thick and searing.

He looks so much like Jules. The similarity is more than uncanny. I’ve been in his presence for less than five minutes and now I have his essence flowing through me. It’s good that I have very little time to really consider the depth of my actions. I shake slightly as my body begins to release tension, and then a deep shudder flows through me.

It’s been so long that I’d almost completely forgotten I could feel these things; that my body could still be that responsive.

He has to force his arm back from me, and even that comes as a shock. He’s incredibly strong and yet extremely delicate. His desire not to harm me does not escape my notice. I look up into the deep jade reflecting pools staring into me. His gaze is unsettling, but doesn’t last long. He turns and scans the horizon, his eyes darting from place to place. His face is familiar, but his manner is so different.

“They’re spirits,” I finally say softly to break the awkward tension. “Those things…and incredibly potent ones too.”

I stand as swiftly as my legs will allow, and we move toward the door.

“I know what they are; I’m just not used to seeing more than a couple in one place. It’s not normal. Were they after you?” He opens the door and holds it for me without a thought. Nothing is lost on me now that I’ve managed to regain my focus.

“There’s one I’m kinda close to, and I know she comes here. I was just looking for… help?” I allow myself one long last look around the room before turning into the soft glow of the street lights.

“Evidently you picked the wrong spot for that.” His reassuring and mocking tone is concerned, but more parental than I’m accustomed to, and it sticks in me like thorns.

“You think?” It takes actual effort to keep the acid out of my tone. “How’d you make them leave; what did you do?”

I stop on the sidewalk, and wait for the answer it’s clear he didn’t plan to give.

“We’ll call it magic.” He says it with a smirk that is at the same time endearing and annoying. It’s nice to see, but I’d like to slap it off his face.

He looks up and down the block impatiently and then back into my eyes. “Do you have a car here? We need to be somewhere else when they come back.”

***

I can see his headlights come on in my rearview. I watch them as they pull out onto the road behind me, make the turn onto Water Street and then onto Kentucky Avenue, still behind me. I didn’t want this guy following me home just yet, but it was exciting to know that he was still this close.

He turns left at Seventh Street and I make a note of it in my mind. I’ll have to see if I can find where he lives. And, bang, it hits me; I’m planning to stalk this guy. Wow.

I pull into the garage behind the house. I think about telling Julie to send someone out here to shop vac the interior tomorrow, get all the chunks of drywall and dust out of the car. Anything I can think about to stop seeing his eyes in my mind.

His name is Garrett. He told me he knows about the unquiet souls and that he has been following spirit activity in Pekin for some time now. He also knows about Paco, and trusts him less than I do. There’s a really good chance I’ve finally found the ally I’ve needed to finally get Rachel back. We’re supposed to get together later and work out a plan of some kind. I just want to see him again already.

I’m still dwelling on that when I close the back door and see Julie and Frank sharing a pizza in the kitchen.

“What happened to you? You look like you had a fight with a home improvement store…and lost.” Frank chuckles. He’s putting on the funny face for Julie but I can see he’s as concerned as she is at my ragged appearance.

“I was down at Sikes Funeral Home. Turns out they don’t like my kind there. I think they just don’t like dead things that don’t get buried there. Bad for business.” I smirk at Julie and get a smile. Good. I don’t want her more worried than she already is. Not with the fire, and Piper, and all.

Sitting down I look at the pizza. If there weren’t olives on it I’d have a piece. I’m glad Frank has cheered her up tonight though. I guess I can tell them about Garrett, though I’ll bet money that Frank is going to be over protective and won’t like him.

CHAPTER 11

“YOU HAVE SOMEONE HERE TO see you, ma’am.” Julie is almost giggling through the intercom, and I already know who it is. I fumble myself together and take a quick look in the bathroom mirror for minor maintenance before walking a bit too briskly to the stairs and down to the main parlor.

I am not prepared for what he looks like tonight. Seeing him in decent lighting and under better conditions, I’m in awe. In a room full of women I’ve trained and dressed to be as seductive as possible, he stands out as the most deliciously attractive thing.

Every inch of his six-foot three frame seems to be lightly tanned and perfectly toned; not overly muscled, but enough to show slightly though his clothes.

He’s wearing a stylish button down shirt with a pair of slightly faded jeans that fit him in a way that words do no justice to. His shoes are expensive black Italian leather, polished to a shine. I know those are nice shoes because I know how much I paid for Frank’s pair of the same ones.

There’s even a messy elegance to his short brown hair, like a sexy ‘just got out of bed’ appeal. I’d say he was devastatingly handsome, if I didn’t think it would be a disservice.

Then he looks at me and gives me the most amazing smile I could imagine. I’m in no way prepared for this. He looks like he just stepped out of a magazine, and his smile could sell me anything.

I walk over to him, ringed in the center of my fawning professionals, and before I can even say anything he lays a big rugged hand lightly on my shoulder and I’m suddenly a mute.

I’m used to going through men like Kleenex, so it’s very rare that I ever find myself taken by one. But this one could take me anywhere. He still reminds me a little of Jules, but somehow more devilish, more mysterious.

Thankfully, Julie sees that I’ve frozen and scurries over quickly with ‘urgent matters’ that require my immediate attention.

She pulls me across the room promising to have me right back, while holding up her tablet in front of me to ‘show me a few appointments and scheduling issues’ as she whispers under her breath, “There may be a lot of men in the world, many fish in the sea and all, but there’s not a single one I’ve ever seen that looks like that one does. Wow.”

I can tell by his face, even from across the room, that he heard her. She sometimes forgets that the dead can usually hear very well. Surprisingly, he seems a little embarrassed by the comment though. I like that.

“Julie, why don’t you have Leslie take over for you here. I’d appreciate it if you’d give Frank a call and tell him I’d like to see him, then grab a couple fresh bottles and meet me in my office in the basement.” She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, but nods and heads to the back to get Leslie.

As I walk back over to Garret, I’m overcome with feelings of infatuation. It takes actual effort to force myself out of the ‘high school girl with a crush’ mentality; after all, I don’t have to hold back when I like something anymore.

“Why don’t we go downstairs to my office? We can speak a bit more freely there.” See, I can talk to the pretty man like a real grown up if I try hard enough.

“Lead the way, Ms. Fischer.” Even the way he says my name is sexy. What is with this guy?

“Call me V. It’s this way.” I lead him to the basement door off the kitchen hallway. He follows closely but I can tell he’s taking in his surroundings very closely. Either he’s out to screw me over, or he’s afraid I’m going to screw him over. Either way, we need to get past that.

We walk into my office and I offer him a seat at my small conference table, while I get a map of the county down off my bookcase.

I join him at the table as Julie comes in with the bottles I asked her to and glasses as well.

“Frank is on his way. He said about ten minutes,” she reports, as she sets the glasses in front of Garrett and I like she were our waitress. Tipping up a bottle she fills our glasses, trying not to make eye contact out of respect.

When she’s finished she sets it down and turns to leave. I take her arm and point to the chair to my right. Her eyes widen in shock. She looks to Garret and then back to me, before asking curiously, “V?”

Smiling at her, I lock her gaze and mentally walk her to her seat. “Julie, I think it’s about time you became better acquainted with what goes on behind the scenes around here. You and I both know that you could run the house without me, and you manage enough of my other concerns that I’d just feel better if you understood a bit more about the world you live and work in.”

Her only reaction at first is to blink in stunned disbelief. She looks at the table in front of her and then back to me. “Do you mind if I take notes?”

“Not at all. So long as the notes you keep can’t be read by anyone but you.”

She looks at me wide-eyed, like a hooker caught in headlights, for a moment then gets up and gets her tablet and sits back down. “I’ll accept that responsibility.”

I expect some protest from Garrett. We’re all taught early on not to share too much of what we are with our slaves. But my employees are friends, not slaves. I’m ready to defend that point fervently, but his objection never comes.

It isn’t long before Frank shows up and as predicted he walks in and gives one look at Garrett and asks to speak with me in private.

We step out of the office, walk to the other end of the basement, and step into the wine storage closet. I can see it in his eyes, but knowing how my kind can hear he waits for the door to close before he starts in on me.

“So now we’re just inviting stray bloodsuckers home? How do you know we can trust him?”

I might get offended if I didn’t know that he genuinely has the best interest of my girls and I at heart. He sees himself as security and bodyguard to all of us.

“He saved my life last night, Frank. That goes a long way to building trust in my world. Besides, there’s just something about him I like. I can’t put my finger on it.”

“That’s because you’d probably rather put your mouth on it.”

I put my hand on him and cock my head to the side with one eyebrow raised. He knows he’s dangerously close to crossing a line. The question now is if he thinks he needs to cross it just to show me he’s not afraid to piss me off to try to keep me safe.

“Frank, back off. He looks good, yes. But he’s like me and he risked himself to save me. He has knowledge of spirits and a way to handle them that, while I don’t understand, I’ve seen in action and have to respect. He may be my best hope of finding Lucy or getting Rachel home. What are you doing to help me there?”

“How is that’s a fair question? I’m doing everything I can, like I always do. How long will this guy’s interests line up with yours? Just think about it V.” And with that, he turns and walks out. Since when does Frank walk out on a conversation with me? The world really is going nuts.

Frank is grilling Garrett when I walk back in and impressively, he’s putting up with it. I have to stop it though. Frank and Julie just don’t understand how to deal with creatures like Garrett. They’ve been spoiled by the way I treat them. I have employees, while my peers and betters have slaves.

This must be what a single mother feels like bringing a date home to the Spanish Inquisition at the hands of her kids.

A simple redirect for the conversation and we’re discussing the spirits and the fact that Garrett has studied them in Europe, Africa, and now North America. He’s especially interested in the level of activity Pekin has. Evidently, it’s in the top ten most active places for the disembodied on the continent.

It does strike me as a little odd that Garrett is so willing to answer a grilling from my P.I. on payroll, but odder still is all the information he has, and no clear agenda for what he’s planning to do with it.

Knowledge is power to the breathers; it’s so much more once you are dead. Not just power but control, and he doesn’t seem to have a focus or direction for all that he’s amassed. I read into him, and I sense no maliciousness in him. He really is a puzzle.

As I’m listening to him talk I let my mind drift further into his feelings, his aura, and he doesn’t seem to have any barriers up to keep me from doing it. Either he trusts me, which makes no sense, or he doesn’t have a way to defend himself, in which case how has he managed to live this long?

He leans back, listing to Julie ramble on about Lucy’s last appearance to her, and rests his hand on my leg. I lay mine on top of it, as though it were simply the natural thing to do. Frank is right about one thing, I certainly wouldn’t mind him in my mouth, or anywhere else in me for that matter.

Garrett mentions that Sunny, his ‘little girl’, has been helping him investigate the activities here in Pekin, but does not elaborate. I get an image of a girls face in his mind’s eye, but no real information.

Digging a little deeper, a few key facts about her start to become clear. He made her, but he is not her family. Like Jules, he has a family, and yet he chose to make her outside of it. She’s an orphan like me, but he’s lied to everyone convincing them she is his cousin. The way he’s protecting her is possibly the most beautiful thing I’ve discovered about him so far.

I know that I can’t afford a romantic entanglement, especially with someone from a pure line, but that doesn’t stop me from continuing to fall for this mysterious stranger.

I have to know more about him, but I have to find an innocent way to ask, see what he’s willing to give up in open conversation. After all, I’ll know if he’s lying.

“Okay,” I interject into the conversation. “I’ve been listening to your accent all night and I’m just going to ask. Where are you from? I mean obviously you’re British, but I can tell there’s something else there.”

Garrett looks at me and flashes a confident smile. Part of me melts in a way that I’d thought was lost to my condition.

“Well you’re right. I am British by birth, London actually, but I haven’t been there in a long, long time.” He says it with a disarming voice that makes me sure he attended charm school. “I’ve been all over really. Lived in Eastern France for almost ten years, and then in Egypt for a little over twenty, now I’ve been in the states for seven or so years, give or take. All of them were long enough stays that I’m sure they’ve colored my accent a bit.”

At this point Julie would burn down nursery schools to be with Garrett for a night, and Frank is trying to make sure we can all tell he’s unimpressed with him.

Out of the blue, Frank blurts out that he thinks the funeral home was a set up by Paco, that he sent me there to die. I don’t see the logic in it. After all, what would Paco have to gain from my death? Frank calls me blind for not seeing it. Julie says she agrees with me that there’s no angle, no benefit for him to kill me. Garrett doesn’t choose a side. I can feel in him that he agrees with me, but he doesn’t want to give Frank another reason to dislike him. He can tell that Frank is important to me, and he’s staying silent to make things easier for me.

Where did this guy come from?

It occurs to me that if Garrett is just passing through like he says, then he likely doesn’t know about Jacobi, or the political situation in Pekin.

I ask him if he’s spoken to the council and my suspicions are confirmed. I really need to introduce him to them so that Learner doesn’t find a new way to start trouble for me. I can see it now: either I’m horrible because I knew about him and didn’t make them aware, or worse, he gets the council to take out his personal frustrations with me on Garrett.

For nicety sake, if nothing else, I ask if he’ll let me introduce him to Jacobi.

I’m pleasantly surprised when he readily agrees. I pick up my purse and ask if he’d like to go now, since there’s no time like the present.

Again I’m surprised when he stands to leave with me, no questions asked.

Frank decides that now is a good time to tell me that he has a meeting set up for tomorrow night with a couple of witnesses to the grave robbing. He’s just letting me know in case I wanted to come along.

Of course I do. He knows that’s a priority to me. He’s trying to provoke me because of Garrett. Human behavior, I guess. I’ll deal with him later. Right now Garrett and I are going to take a little drive.

I feel kind of silly as we’re walking out to my car, and I catch myself thinking of this as our ‘first date.’

***

Rolling to a stop at the curb in front of the Community Bank Building, I feel like Judas without the paycheck. Garrett really doesn’t know what kind of reception he may well receive from Napoleon Learner.

That feeling only intensifies once I’m on the sidewalk and see the regular doormen replaced with twice as many security guards. This can’t mean anything good for the quality of my evening. For a moment I consider just pulling Garrett off down the block and going to the bar instead, but I know they’ve already seen us and if I walk away I’ll just look suspicious.

I step up to the door and dutifully wait, watching the activity on the other side of the glass. Talking into shoulder radios and waiting for a reply, these guys are more nervous than I am.

Finally two of them step forward and open the doors for Garrett and I, while the others stand back with their hands on their weapons. No, this was not even the cold reception I was expecting.

Security escorts us across the lobby and four of them get on the elevator with us. The ride up is a tense one. Garrett is looking at me with questioning eyes and I have no answers for him.

We’re led off the elevator and down the hall through the broken frame that held the doors to Jacobi’s office. The place is redecorated again, this time in a modern post-hurricane style. I really can’t believe my eyes.

“Don’t even pretend to act surprised, you lying little bitch! I know you were involved in this.” Learner is spitting at me before I can even take in the enormity of the damage. ”What have you done with him? You’re dead either way, but if you cooperate I’ll make sure you don’t suffer as much!”

My mind is racing, and my mouth is moving but no words are coming out. Garrett decides, unwisely, to come to my rescue.

“Who are you, and why are you screaming like an idiot?” His voice is patronizing, but not overly so.

“Who am I? Who the hell are you?” It looks like Learner may well just explode and save me a whole lot of trouble. “I’m Marcus Learner! I’m the Eldest in this region. I sit at the head of the Council!”

“Head of the Council? When was this decided?” Serena asks as she enters the room, thankfully distracting him from us for a moment. She has a look in her eye that seems to be daring him to say the wrong thing.

“With Jacobi gone I am the Eldest!” He announces it matter-of-factly.

Serena looks at me, and for just a moment I think she flashes a wicked grin. “Veronica is more than two years older than you Marcus. If we are looking to put someone in Jacobi’s chair before it can even grow cold, and it is to be our Eldest, then it is she who should head the Council.”

“Until we find out with certainty what’s happened to my uncle, no one will be officially replacing him as the head of the Council. I’m working with Paco and his little spies and otherworldly contacts to find the truth about what’s happened here.” He’s clearly uncomfortable and off balance. He and I both would have expected a comment like that from Gus, but Serena?

It’s nice to see Learner backed down, by anyone, even if it is only for a matter of hours or days. We all know that the Council would never support Serena’s push for me. I doubt that even she’d support that idea. I know I wouldn’t. She’s likely just making him squirm for fun.

Not surprisingly, Learner immediately changes the focus back to me.

“You are under suspicion, orphan whore! Have no doubt that eyes are on you. If it’s found that you had anything to do with my uncle’s disappearance then your life will be forfeit. I’ll claim all that you possess for my family, as payment for your debt to us for your crimes.” He leans in close to me, arrogantly spitting his words in my face. “All your girls will be mine to do with as I see fit.”

And with that, he stepped over the line. I can feel the blood in my veins begin to boil. In less time than it takes for him to blink I clench my fist and hammer it into his throat, knocking him back through the room and into the Council table.

This development is more than Serena was prepared for. She bursts into a peal of laughter, an indignity I knew Learner was too small to overlook.

“That’s it! You are censured! You will not be welcomed back at the Council until Jacobi is found!” He screams to hide his embarrassment. “You are a mad dog, Ms. Fischer, and I will see you put down!”

His hateful glare shoots to Serena, whose laughter has waned, but still bubbles near the surface. He knows better than to make an outright enemy of her, so he turns what’s left of his rage precisely where I don’t want it.

“You with her! You have no right to be here! You are not accepted here! You will leave, and you will not return on pain of death!” He pauses, trying to stare Garrett down. When he doesn’t even flinch, Learner has to scream some more. “Do I make myself clear? If I hear word of your continued presence in the region this Council rules over I will have you killed too!”

Garrett just nods at him slowly then looks at me. “Shall we go then?”

***

My Charger screeches into the driveway at well over double the posted limit of the street. I’m driving reckless, I should know better but my emotions are getting the best of me. Laying on the brakes the tires provide a scream that alerts everyone in the house that I’m home. At least I didn’t make a new garage door.

Climbing out of the car into the cloud of rubber and brake shoe smoke, I survey what I’ve done to the driveway. Somebody’s going to be calling me all sorts of unfriendly names tomorrow when they’re out here trying to get the black marks off the driveway.

By the time the car door slams shut I’m already halfway to the back door. I’m aware that Garrett is walking silently beside me. He’s managed to keep his composure, though I can feel he’s just as upset as I am.

Walking back into the house from the garage we meet Julie and Frank in the kitchen. It doesn’t take reading minds or emotions for them to see that things didn’t go well.

“So,” Julie starts. “Jacobi didn’t have anything nice to…”

“Jacobi is missing!” I cut her off midsentence. “His office is a wreck, that moron Learner is in charge, and things have most definitely gone from bad to worse.”

“How could they get worse?” Frank the eternal comedian was trying to make me laugh. It wasn’t going to work this time.

“Rachel is still gone. Lucy is still missing. I’m now a suspect in Jacobi’s disappearance. Learner is planning to bend me over and take everything I’ve spent my life building, and he may try to order my death too.” I nod my head quickly for emphasis. “Oh, and yeah, he’s also said that Garrett has to get out of town. Or he’ll have him killed too.”

“I’m not sure if I’m missing something,” Julie asks meekly, “but why do we care what Learner says?”

It’s not her fault she doesn’t understand the way these things work. I’ve been dealing with it since before she was born and I still can’t always justify the way things are. “I might as well take this as a sign, and explain a few things to you two. Frank already knows a lot of it, but it’s time you were brought more in loop.”

I lay out for them everything that went on in Jacobi’s office tonight. Garrett pipes up every now and again, keeping his voice low and terse, to add his perspective.

Julie listens to us closely taking notes as we complain for about half an hour. Finally she’s all done with being in the room, but out of the conversation.

“If you are going to explain things to me then you’re going to need to give some basics that I’m clearly missing so that what you’re telling me makes more sense. For instance, what are you, really? I mean, I know you’re dead, and you have fangs so it seems like a no brainer, I mean I collect and preserve blood for you, right? But I also know you are awake during the day and I’ve seen you in a mirror and wearing a cross, and so on. So, yeah. What are you? How does this work?”

Frank looks at her with disbelief that she actually said that, while Garrett doesn’t seem to be the slightest bit fazed at her questions. I’ve never met anyone like him.

I guess I asked for this. I really don’t want to try to explain everything she wants to know tonight, there’s just not enough time, but I started this conversation so I might as well follow through with it.

“We share a disease. It’s transmitted though our blood. It serves to effectively kill the living body, allowing only the electrical impulses of brain activity to continue. However, it affects the whole brain. There are entire portions of the brain that are never active while someone is alive, that become highly active in physical death. The disease effects everyone infected in a different way, based on their individual DNA. While most may be similar, no two of us are exactly the same.”

I could see on her face that she was keeping up with me so far. Either that or she was a far, far better actress than I’d ever given her credit for. She’d stopped taking notes and was just listening with rapt attention.

“So it’s like Dracula then? All the other stuff from the movies like garlic and stakes, do those things hurt you?”

I can’t help but laugh a little. She must have been making observations and building up these questions for years.

“C’mon, you know how much I like garlic bread with pasta.” I’m trying to keep this light, and that’s when it hits me that Frank’s usual jovial wit is missing. I think this is the longest I’d ever known him to be quiet. It was especially punctuated by quiet little Julie having so much to ask and say.

Garrett decides to join in, making the mother/father dynamic of this supernatural ‘talk with the kids’ complete. “Sunlight can kill us, due to rapid decomposition of our bodies. Basically it burns off our skin cells faster than we can replace the tissue, even with our ability to heal.”

“A stake in the heart can kill us, as well as cutting off our head, but I think you’d be hard pressed to find anything on this planet that wouldn’t die if you shoved something through its heart or cut off its head.” I say it looking at Frank, expecting a cute comment or joke.

Nothing. He doesn’t have anything to say, but he’s obviously attentive. That’s just as bizarre as anything else that’s happened tonight.

Again, Julie isn’t finished. “What about Holy Water and crosses?”

“No. We don’t even need to breathe anymore so we can’t even drown in holy water.”

Garrett speaks up, correcting me. “Some of us still breathe. It’s a rarity, but it happens. Some of us even heal fast enough that they can go out in the sun for longer periods without dying. Like Veronica said, the disease is same for all of us, but how our bodies are structured at the DNA level dictates how each individual reacts to the disease. Once we are infected and ‘die’ different genes are turned off and turned on causing the individual manifestations, or symptoms, of our condition. There are a few things that are the same for all of us, like we stop physically aging and we stop producing and refining blood normally so we have to drink it, but we also have qualities that are unique to each of us.”

“Believe it or not, that actually has a lot to do with why things are the way they are for us, socially. Like royal families and inbreeding, this disease has been kept closely guarded throughout history.” This is where I get to show off my education to impress Garrett. Prove I’m not just any accidental orphan off the street.

“There are forty-two families that I’m aware of who carry the disease, seventeen of them are represented in the United States, but only three in Pekin. They are kept ‘pure lines’ by only spreading the disease to those born into the family. This allows for more predictable reactions to the infection. Each generation can then pass on their knowledge of the disease, their power and traits can be learned and built off of by each new generation.” I’m reciting all the information I’ve studied and learned, and I can’t believe how far I’ve come since Jules left. I’m impressed with myself.

“That’s why the pure lines are powerful, okay. But how do you get into a pure line and get Learner off your back?” Julie asks with eyes wide, and serious concern in her voice.

Frank looks at her and tries keep the acid from his tone. “She can’t. She was screwed from jump. Learner is of a pure line. V can’t ever be.”

At least he has a grasp of the situation.

“I am not from a pure line because I wasn’t born into the right family to be. See, the way it works is that Jules, the one who infected me with the disease, effectively making me what I am, had no blood relation to me in life. He had no family in this country to make, so those he’s made, like me, are strays and orphans. We are seen as scum. Those from pure lines see me as similar to them but never the same, and certainly not equal. I share their disease, but I have no family. Do you follow?”

Julie nods, but it’s clear reading into her thoughts that she still only has half of the picture.

“But Learner, he’s Jacobi’s nephew. His sister’s actual son. Born into the family. And to make matters worse, he’s the eldest of them now with Jacobi missing, and that’s how leadership is carried.”

“The oldest is just given control of the families, no matter how stupid they are?” The poor girl is a product of modern liberal politics. She just wants it to be fair and make sense.

“The system isn’t bad on paper. It works well most of the time, has for centuries.” Garrett says it apologetically, trying to give her some comfort, though he clearly doesn’t believe it.

“Morons like Learner shouldn’t live long enough to be in charge, but the system doesn’t account for the protection and sheltering of the frail or weak minded by those in power.” I know I sound a little bitter, but I really can’t help it.

Julie seems to be struggling with the social concepts as alien and unfair. “But it doesn’t make sense. Can’t you appeal to someone?”

“Sweetheart, this isn’t the U.S. legal system. There is no one to appeal to. This system is a lot older and based a lot more on ‘might makes right.’ In the society of the dead, those who are destroyed have no further objections and make no more trouble.”

“But that’s just not right.” Her youthful exasperation with the system I’ve been dealing with for nearly five decades is cute. I almost laugh, but manage to stifle it, not wanting to seem insulting.

“Well you weren’t born to the right family to do anything about it, Julie. Sorry.” Frank understands it, and seems to like it less than I do.

Julie looks from face to face in the room before shaking her head and turning up her volume. “Well that just sucks!”

”That’s kinda the conclusion I’ve reached.” I can feel her exasperation spilling over into me as I crack my knuckles and raise my voice as well. “Garrett can leave when Learner is big enough to fuckin’ make him. He’s gonna have to get past me to do it, and I don’t think he’s got the balls.”

Everyone in the room is staring at me, and only now do I realize how loud I’d actually gotten. I crack a smile and Frank finally chimes in. “Well I think it’s gonna be okay for now. I doubt they’ll be storming the house to look for him tonight.”

We all laugh and for the first time in quite a while I feel at home in the house I live in. Garrett seems to have gone from being a ‘them’ to an ‘us.’ We’re a family. Now I just need to get Rachel home with the rest of us.

CHAPTER 12

“SO, IS THIS GONNA BE LIKE farmer Bob on the news, talking about how the twister sounded?” I ask offhandedly, making a whooshing sound, as we bump along down a dirt road that I’m sure has no actual name.

“No.” There’s ice in Frank’s reply. “These two were in the cemetery for strictly blowjob purposes when the guys were doing the ‘bodysnatching.’ They’re both rational and reasonably intelligent young professionals. They’re just a little paranoid, hence meeting in the middle of greater south butt-fuck. But can you blame ‘em? Really?”

I guess he’s right. But this is a bit too cloak-and-dagger for my taste. Meeting in a barn twenty minutes outside town just wasn’t what I had thought I’d agreed to, but I trust Frank’s judgment, so here I am.

At least I’m feeling better than I was last night. Garrett says he’s planning to stay, even in the face of Learner’s threats, and I know he’ll stand by me if they try to come for me. Now I just need to get to Lucy and bring Rachel home and I can start to pretend things are normal again.

We leave the roadway, though I’m sure the car can’t tell the difference, and follow a path out into a field. He parks us just to the side of an old barn that looks like a stiff breeze could knock to the ground. I look around and then at Frank.

“This is the place?” The bewilderment in my voice only serves to further agitate him.

He nods to me, repeating mockingly as he gets out, “Yes. This is the place.”

Frank unsnaps the holster on his sidearm and looks this way and that before ducking inside the barn, leaving me outside to do a sweep of the area. Unless we’re being spied on by cows, I think we’re safe.

This would be laughable if it wasn’t so sad.

I walk in and find Frank talking by lantern light to two of the biggest stereotypes I’ve ever seen in the Pekin area. It would appear that they wore what they thought people who work on a farm would wear. Neatly pressed and accessorized. Cute.

I hang back by the door and let him get the preliminaries out of the way. If he misses anything I want to know I’ll chime in; we both know the drill.

The tall one is Evan and the short one is Bradley, they are highly animated and they both love to talk. They go in to detail explaining everything that lead up to the night in question and then where they’d gone to eat, who they’d seen, and why those people needed serious help.

This is reality TV at its finest, playing out in farmhand chic, with all the “Oh my God’s” in place. I start to tap my foot impatiently, waiting for them to get to the part of the story we actually came to hear.

The story finally has us in the cemetery, so I catch the eyes of the more passive little cowboy and slip into his head to ride along his memories of the event.

As many times as I’ve done this with men in the past, I’ve never jumped into a firsthand memory of feeling facial hair on my scrotum. It’s just not something I’d ever really prepared myself for.

I watch though him, noticing the activity at the grave site; I try to pay close attention to every detail of the two men doing the digging and the truck they were in, while attempting to ignore his preoccupation with a raging hard on and the mouth attached to it.

I’m able to make out faces on both of the men, as well as get a license plate number before I’ve finally had enough of the feeling of getting my dick sucked.

I nod to Frank to let him know I got what we came for and duck out the door. Sitting back down in the car, I try to sketch pictures of what they looked like. There’s a pipe dream. I should really take an art class.

***

“I got everything we needed from those guys in less than half an hour. Why did we need to stay there for another hour? Were you getting head, or setting up a date?” Picking at him like this, while fun for me, drives Frank crazy.

“They are contacts. Friends. I may need to talk to them again about something else in the future. I can’t just treat them like a cop questioning them. Damn it, V. You sound like Lewis.” His exasperation really shouldn’t bring me as much pleasure as it does, but what can I do? It’s funny.

I look back out the window and watch the cows go by as we head toward civilization on the dusty back road.

Once we are back on a paved surface I describe the two men I’d seen in the memories to Frank. He immediately recognizes Carl McCreary from the description, and says he has some ideas on who the other guy was. He also tells me that Carl sometimes runs around and gets into trouble with Calvin Hocker.

Frank is wonderful for so many reasons, but it’s things like this that make him irreplaceable.

“You should call Lewis and give him the lead on this. I want to see these guys in jail, and quick. I want a chance to question them, but I’ll do that once they’re picked up.”

Frank takes out his phone to do what I asked and I put my hand over it to stop him. He looks at me, and I know that I have to have this conversation with him. Not for me, or for him, but for us. He’s been so close to me for so long that this has to happen.

“Before you do that, I want to talk to you.” Just starting this isn’t easy. He lets his hand settle on the center console and drops his phone in the cup holder.

He looks from me to the road and back. “Talk about what?”

I have a good idea of what he’s going to say before I ask, and I could just read it out of him, but I owe him the words, and besides I’d prefer to see how he’ll say it. “What do you think about Garrett?”

This time he doesn’t even look at me, eyes focused on the road. We’ve reached the point in the conversation where there’s a thoughtful pause after every statement and question. “You want the truth?”

“Yes. I want you to be honest.” I say it, but to be totally honest I’m not really sure I mean it.

“I think he’s gorgeous, and I would totally do him, but I think you already know that. But in all seriousness, there’s something off about him.” He looks at me for just a second and the concern on his face is heavy.

“I don’t dislike him, but he makes me nervous. I think he’s hiding something.” He pauses for a moment like he’s expecting me to jump on him. “I don’t have any concrete reason, it’s just a hunch. I have, over the years, learned to trust my hunches though.”

I decide not to pursue it any further, and he seems unwilling to press on with his thoughts aloud. He and I both sit in silence for a moment and then he makes his phone call.

***

My VW smells sweetly of lilies, and tears streak mascara down my cheeks. I’m here alone, because I want to be. I don’t feel like letting anyone see me tonight. Not here like this.

I pull off the road and into St. Joseph’s parking lot and stop. I can’t help feeling like I’ve let Rachel down.

She counted on me to protect her and I still can’t even find her. I don’t feel like I’m crying but the tears don’t stop flowing either. I will not give up on her.

From my open car door I can see the yellow police tape blowing in the wind just across the road in the cemetery, and the piles of flowers left by all the people in the community that were touched by the story of her short tragic life and now her body being stolen. It’s a shame that I know the story is just a ploy to sell papers and make people believe the local news providers have an interest in the community.

If I knew where she was I’d be there right now, but instead I’m here, my life touched by her, bringing flowers like everyone else.

One foot in front of the other, I slowly make my way across the road to the final destination for so many lives. It feels so tragically empty a gesture to just bring flowers and leave.

My lilies fall adrift amongst the sea of floral offerings already there, outside the yellow police tape, at Rachel’s empty grave.

All I can do is stand here alone and cry.

CHAPTER 13

THE UNMARKED GRAY SEDAN rolls slowly in through the giant steel garage door out of the cold rain, and comes to a stop in the space closest to the ramp leading up to the double door entryway.

Once the door has lowered and locked back in place Det. Lewis steps out and opens the rear door and waits. “You’re not gonna make me drag you out, are you, Carl?”

The dirty wiry little man looks up at Lewis with pure hate. He shifts his body so his back is leaning out and his arms are rolled forward prominently displaying the ‘White Power’ tattoo on his shoulder. “Why don’t you carry me in piggy-piggy? I’m not in the mood to walk.”

“Get out of my car, Carl. Don’t make me use my taser on you.” Lewis puts his hand on the gun and Carl rolls his eyes.

He swings one leg and then the other out onto the ground and then tries to knock Lewis down. He only succeeds in experiencing the taser.

Two more of Pekin’s finest, who were watching on the cameras inside, come running into the garage to help Carl to his feet and drag him into the building.

Lewis puts away his favorite non-lethal weapon and straightens his appearance, pulling down his jacket and wiping spit off of it, before going in to do the paperwork to process his prisoner into his accommodations.

Two hours and a pile of paperwork later Lewis walks into a room that contains only a table, two chairs and Carl McCreary who is now wearing a pastel uniform with a number on it. He knows it’s going to be a long night. He doesn’t plan on giving up until he’s broken this man’s will, and knows more about what’s been done with that little girl’s body.

“Tell me a story, Carl. Tell me about St. Joe’s Cemetery.” He puts a voice recorder on the table between them and offers a smoke.

Lewis lights the cigarette for him, and after a long exhale he says, “I don’t think I’ve ever been there? Where‘s it at?”

“Carl, I have witnesses who saw you and another man there with shovels. They knew the license plate number of your truck and they picked you out of a lineup. You can stop playing games anytime now. C’mon, talk to me. Maybe I can help you out here.” Trying to be friendly may not be the best approach but it’s worth a shot.

Eight hours, a pack and a half of cigarettes, and four pots of coffee later Lewis has exactly what he had when he walked in this room. Nothing. He’s now past the point of making rational decisions, and he knows it. He’s given real thought to shooting parts of this guy off until he talks. That means it’s time to get some rest and come back at it later.

The fact that he hasn’t asked for a lawyer probably means he thinks he’s gonna beat the charge.

Lewis calls to have an escort come up to take Carl to a cell, and then he turns to face him.

“You realize that this isn’t over, don’t you?”

“I just don’t know what you’re talking about Detective Dick,” is his grinning reply.

Lewis walks into the hall to keep from punching him in the face. He stands still and concentrates on letting go of his frustration for a moment, then heads down the hall to the bathroom.

***

When I walk in the room this guy Carl’s face lights up with a beaming smile, like it’s Christmas morning all of the sudden. He thinks seeing me is a good thing.

He couldn’t be more wrong.

I stride swiftly across the room to the table and grab a handful of this asshole’s hair. I introduce his face to the table a few times, until I feel they are well enough acquainted. Then I pull his face up close to mine and look into his eyes.

“Who are you?” is all his squeaky little voice will let him say before I begin ripping into his head. He screams in agony as I penetrate deep into his conscious mind. I am not gentle.

“This pain, this is nothing. This is just you banging your head down on the table because of the guilt you feel for what you’ve done. Do you understand me?” I don’t even wait for him to answer before I let him meet the table again.

I jerk him back up and eye to eye sink painfully into his thoughts again.

“Who was with you when you went to dig up the little girl?” I ask it plainly and watch the answer in his mind.

“I didn’t dig up any girl, I told the Detective that already. You’ve got the wrong…” I cut him off. I see the truth, even if he’s telling me lies.

“Who is Jake Caldwell?”Again I just ask the question, and I wait. This time though he gives me a whole new kind of panic. Now he knows that his sudden headache is not just a side effect of kissing the metal table top a few too many times. He knows I’m inside his mind and that lying to me is getting him nowhere.

“Shit, lady. Are you going to kill me?” His whole demeanor has changed. I think I actually like him better as a penitent beggar. Emasculation does wonders for some men.

I see in his mind the trailer park where he met with Jake. And I can get the trailer number from it. Now I just have one more question.

“Who hired you, Carl? Who were you working for?” I can see the answer. I can hear them talking and even feel their handshake. Best of all I can see where he lives too, where they met. It’s not the same place he lived at with his girlfriend either. Now I just wait. I want to see if he’ll tell me a name.

“Calvin.” It’s one word. He says it so softly that I doubt most could even tell what he mumbled. He’s broken.

I have all I need from this piece of shit for now. I’ll get everything else I need from Jake, and I’ll do it somewhere I’m less likely to get caught so I can take my time and enjoy it.

“Carl, they’re going to let you out of here eventually. We both know that. If you don’t tell them the truth about what you did, I’m going to be waiting for you when they let you out. Do you understand me, Carl? I will end you. It will be slow and it will be painful. You’ll beg me to let you die before I’m done. You’ll beg me over and over, until I finally let you.”

He’s nodding his head and crying a little. Why is it that big old tough country boys turn into teary-eyed little country girls so fast when they get scared? I stop at the door and look back at him.

“I couldn’t be more serious, Carl. The truth!” I slam the door and leave, feeling I’ve done a public service. Now I need to go collect Jake.

***

Lewis walks back into the room with the guards to escort Carl to his cell, and is shocked to see him bleeding from his face all over the table.

“I did it, man. I dug up that little girl. Turn that little recorder back on. I’ll tell you all about it, please. I’ll tell you everything.”

Confusion rolls over the Detective for a moment, then he dismisses the guard and puts the recorder back on the table and sits down.

“Did you have an accident, Carl? Did that change your mind about talking to me?”

“No, man. This, it’s just guilt, ya know? I was banging my head on the table ‘cause of all the guilt.”

***

The shot rings out loudly. It leaves behind a dull ringing in my ears. The echo inside a steel building, no matter how large, is never pleasant. The grave digger hanging chained to the steel beam above him is wearing only his boxer shorts. Now they’re stained with more than cheap beer.

I don’t have to torture people. I can break into their thoughts like a thief in the night, put my feet up and watch their memories like home movies, take what I want and leave. Sometimes, though, it’s more fun to actually make an impression.

“I try to keep in mind,” I recite dryly as I run the front sight of my pistol over his face, “that my life is only as significant as I am to the lives of others.”

He’s sobbing and won’t look up from the floor, so I lean close to his ear and ask softly, “Would you say that I’m significant to your life?”

I found him right where Carl remembered I would, in the trailer park he calls home. Quickly and silently. The woman sleeping next to him never even knew he was gone. No one will miss him until tomorrow; if they miss him at all. For the rest of the night at least, he’s mine.

The sound of a million rain drops hitting the metal roof echoes through the building, broken only occasionally by his blubbering. I’m enjoying his fear of me, but beyond that I’m getting nowhere with him.

I put the pistol down on the table next to my purse and step closer to him again.

“Your friend Carl is sitting in county lockup, Jake. It’s only a matter of time before he gives them you. If I kill you now it could be seen as an act of mercy. You won’t have to deal with the shame and embarrassment of your family and friends finding out that you like to dig up and steal the bodies of dead little girls.”

I’m riding his thoughts. He’s panicked and scared, but he has no idea what I’m talking about. He’s either really good, like better than the best I can imagine, or there’s more to his involvement that I’d thought.

Walking him over the events of that night in his mind, he went to bed and woke up the next morning. There’s just nothing there during the time frame I’m looking for so he must have been asleep. There’s nothing in his conscious mind to suggest that he had any part of the graveyard excavation.

Then it hits me. What if it wasn’t his conscious mind that was in control when he did it? Could he have been ‘sleep grave-robbing?’

I’ve only attempted to get into someone’s subconscious mind once. It worked, but it wasn’t easy. In fact, it was harder to get back out of than it was to get into in the first place.

I know that it’s dangerous, but I also know I have to know why they were after her body. I lift his head up so that he’s looking at me and slip into his thoughts. Inside, he’s a bigger mess than he is outside. He thinks I’m going to kill him and he’s going over all the things he’s going to have to atone for. I do not want to know this much about this guy.

I hold his right eyelid open with my left hand as I punch him in the face a few times. He loses three teeth, gets a broken nose and a cracked cheek before he’s finally out.

This is where I hit the sweet spot between conscious and unconscious and I start to fall deeper into his mind than I really ever wanted to go.

There’s a psychological residue here. The kind people leave behind on things tied to highly emotionally charged events. I’ve never felt one this strong before, or this unfocused. Usually it’s a strong emotional film on something, love, hate, passion. This is just like another whole mind and thought pattern laid right over his mind like a transparency.

Wait.

I may not have to go any deeper than this.

I think this guy was somehow possessed. Either by a spirit, or a demon, or by one like me. I’ve heard that others can transfer their mental essence, like I do into the land, briefly into other people. It’s unusually rare, but it’s been documented. This is kinda freaky.

I try to pull back out of his mind and I’m in a dream or a fantasy of his. He’s watching cars racing around a track and getting head.

I try again to pull back out and now he looks at me. He’s frightened and trying to run from me, tripping over his pants that he can’t get pulled up.

A final pull on my mind and I snap back to my body, letting his eyelid drop and stepping back away from him. It’s bad to have someone’s stink on you when you don’t want it. It’s worse to have it in your mind and you can’t just wash it off.

This guy is insignificant. I think he might be involved, but as much a victim as accomplice in the grand scheme of things. I kinda feel sorry for him. I’m going to let him go and see what happens. I can’t help but feel a little unfulfilled on some level.

I take out my phone and call Frank while I let Jake dangle on the chains. I give him the details of what I’ve found out and have to be a little more thorough than I usually am in explaining why I think what I think.

I tell him that I don’t believe this guy is going to be a further threat, but just in case, I want someone to stay on top of him. If whoever used him before tries it again I want to know about it.

“All right,” Frank says, dedicated as usual. “I’ll dedicate a LoJack and a PI to monitor him, what he does, who he meets with, where he goes. We’ll stay on top of him, V, don’t worry.”

“One last thing, before I forget. I have this guy in the warehouse in West Pekin. I need you to pick him up and get him out of here. He doesn’t need to know where he’s been.”

I feel my fangs pushing against my lips.

“He’ll be easy to get along with though. I’m gonna run him a couple of quarts low.”

The sigh I hear over the phone tells me wordlessly that he wishes I’d just killed the guy.

“Sorry, Frank.”

***

Mist begins to collect in the shadows that fall in the corner of Calvin Hocker’s cell. Slowly it builds almost like a tower until finally it coalesces into the somewhat human form. Stepping forward into the red light from the emergency exit, it draws Calvin’s attention. He sits up and looks at it, confused.

“My, my. What have they done to you?” It has the voice of a chorus, speaking in unison.

Calvin has enough of a mind left to be frightened, but not know why.

“It’s time to leave. There’s too much for you to be doing to waste your time lying around in here.” It speaks again, and then moves toward him. He tries to scream but the thick black mist starts to pour into his open mouth, preventing any sound from escaping.

His eyes dance around wildly and he flails around on his bunk as he knows this is the end.

CHAPTER 14

THE SOUND OF BONES CRACKING and skin tearing is sickening. It echoes off the windows and concrete walls, giving the whole of C Block the feel of a horror film. Most of the men sleeping wake to the awful sound and know immediately that something is terribly wrong. They also know better than to say or do anything about it.

After fracturing his skull enough to squeeze it through the narrow window, it’s just a matter of snaking his body back and forth past a few rib pops before he reaches his hips. His hips, now those are the hard part.

Calvin tugs, pushes, and pounds until he’s finally able to completely break his pelvis and folding it in, this allows him to finally pass all the way through the window and he’s out. He falls from the second floor, hitting the ground with a painful thud and a grunt.

Pushing roughly on the sides of his head, he pops his skull back vaguely into shape, almost losing an eye in the process, and then begins repositioning his hips enough to stand. With a devil’s grin on his face he faces west and starts limping.

Once the disgusting noises have stopped the other inmates begin yelling to get the attention of the guards, but by the time they actually check the cell it’s far too late, and none of the prisoners’ claims on what happened or what they heard are taken seriously.

What they do succeed in doing is getting the jail put on lockdown, and a report run on the local news about a dangerous escaped felon on the loose. Too little, too late.

***

The amber glow from the lights along the interstate flash through my car, front to back quickly, giving it the feel of some strange sepia toned rave at this speed.

I’m almost to my exit. How Frank gets people to agree to meet him in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere is a mystery to me. He’s charming sure, but it has to have limits, right?

Rolling over in my head this lead he said he had I get a little angry. Supposedly we’re going to meet with a ‘friend’ of his who claims that someone tried to pay him to dig up Rachel’s grave before it happened. I can hear his practically giddy voice telling me about it. ‘And, V, you’ll never believe who tried to hire him, Calvin Hocker. I know, right?’

Frank was excited. I’ve actually started to wish I could just go back and kill Hocker before he made any of these messes for me. I don’t get overjoyed to find out one guy has been fucking me seven different ways. No, I get pissed at that guy and want to make him not live anymore.

My phone hums, vibrating in my purse, bringing me back to reality. It’s likely Frank telling me that we’ve rescheduled.

Caller ID says it’s the house calling.

“Whatcha need, Julie?” I ask the question and instantly know that something’s gravely wrong. I hear glass shatter in the background, and get no answer from her at all.

Finally I can hear her, but she’s not talking to me. She’s yelling at someone, holding the phone to the side. “Hey, asshole! What do you think you’re—” She’s cut off by the sound of gunfire. Then the phone is filled with sounds of things breaking and screams.

“Julie!” I’m trying to get her attention, trying to tell her to get the shotgun and to hit Frank’s call button. It’s only a moment before there’s a plastic crunching and the line goes dead. I have to get there now.

I flip the car around through the median and dial Frank. He answers on the second ring; he was waiting for me.

“Frank, get to the house now!”

“We have a meeting in, like, ten minutes. They’ll be pulling up any time now.” I can see him looking at his watch nervously.

“I’m not going to argue with you. Julie is in trouble. Get there now!” I hang up before he has the chance to bicker with me anymore and take the speed up to twenty over the limit. If anyone wants to give me a ticket tonight they’ll have to work for it.

***

Walking into what was my house, over the broken remains of the antique stained-glass inlayed front door, is absolutely surreal. It seems like more of a shambles and less like a home than it was when I originally found it, condemned and in decay decades ago.

Dim light bathes the room from the streetlights outside, an ethereal glow from the jagged mouths of broken windows. There are so many shattered pieces of my life everywhere that I really can’t tell what’s what. Blood is splattered on almost every surface, like a thick red rain from the storm that came inside. I can smell it.

I have a pistol that Frank likes for me to carry but it’s in the car. I always tend to fall back on myself as my weapon of choice. That may prove to be an unwise decision, I think to myself as I creep through the dark building, not knowing if whoever or whatever did this is still here.

The distant rushing of water and the mewing of a black cat from the sofa in the front parlor were all that held the breathtaking silence at bay. The last time I remember the house being this quiet was that night in 1998. A pimp from the Southside thought I was competition, and sent a couple thugs with guns. Before I could get there to stop them they’d killed everyone. I gave up the business and moved out into Jules’ old ranch house in the county. It was because of Julie that I opened it back up in 2002.

Lucy brought her to me, like she did Rachel. Julie was eighteen and working truck stops. She was going to end up getting hurt, so I took her in. I literally rebuilt the house around her, she just never knew that. Now I may not be able to tell her.

Ragged breathing draws my attention; it’s weak and soft but I follow it. I pass through room to room, blood and destruction, but no bodies. Were they taken? Did they get away? I find the source of the breathing between the kitchen and the back door, on the entryway floor.

Leslie is alive but badly beaten; I could swear her breathing is getting weaker as I listen. Spent magazines and shell casings litter the floor all around her but I don’t see a gun.

Sliding my hands under her I pull her close, cradling her. I believe for a moment that she is near death, then her body shakes with coughing and her breathing becomes stronger.

“Leslie, can you hear me?” I say it softly, but it’s still enough to startle her.

She jumps in my arms and begins to look around in a panic. Her breathing is getting rough again. “V? Is he gone?”

“Who? Who did this? Calm down and talk to me, Les. You’re safe now.” I try to comfort her with words and touches, and when that doesn’t work I slide in through her eyes and bring calm down on her mind like a blanket.

I have her explain to me what happened, while I watch. She was in the kitchen when this started, making dinner for everyone. There was a loud popping sound, like something metallic breaking and she ran to see what had happened.

She saw him coming over the front door, and that was the last time she saw Julie, standing in the front parlor with the phone in one hand and a shotgun in the other.

Julie barked at her to get the girls out the back and stepped up in Calvin’s face. From the amount of blood I saw in the front parlor when I came in, it didn’t look good. No, can’t let myself think like that.

Leslie ran up the stairs telling everyone it was time to go. She was yelling, directing them to take the back stairs to the kitchen and go out the back.

It happened so fast for her that her memory is shaky and blurred. He was on top of her on the back staircase. He was punching her and riding her down the steps, laughing as they went. He didn’t seem human. His face was ripped and the skin seemed to hang off him like cloth.

His eyes had a darker quality in her memory than they were when I had seen them. And his laughs weren’t his voice, like dozens of laughs laid on top of each other all at once.

She managed to get her pistol out of its holster on her hip and the force of the rounds knocked him back off of her, though they didn’t seem to be causing him any pain.

With round after round, magazine after magazine, she kept knocking him back, held him in the kitchen long enough for the other girls to get out of the house unharmed, the ones lucky enough to have been upstairs anyway.

When she had nothing left to fire at him she threw the gun at him, and then turned to run. He caught it as he leapt at her. The last thing she remembers was feeling the weight of her own weapon hitting the back of her head and then the lights went out. He must have taken her gun with him.

“Leslie, honey, how many clients were in the house?” I’m concerned for her, but I have to know how much worse this is going to get.

“Two, I think.” She coughs again and I let her sit up on her own.

That’s great. As if this weren’t bad enough, now there’s another fire to put out. ”Do you know who they were?”

“I just saw a couple of guys earlier. Julie would know. Where is Julie?” She looks around expecting to see her here with me. I really wish she were.

The cat I’d heard in the parlor was now on the floor next to us, rubbing its small black head into Leslie’s hand for attention. She picks it up and starts absently petting it as I help her to her feet.

Frank steps into the doorway and I almost knock him back out it before I realize who he is.

“Hey! Take it easy.” He steps into the kitchen and he’s followed by Piper. She’s bandaged up but it looks like she’s dressed to kick somebody’s ass.

“I picked her up on my way here. She called me while I was driving and I told her Julie was in trouble and we were headed here. She wouldn’t take no for an answer.” He looks out into the front of the house and around at the floor, “What happened here?”

“Calvin Hocker.” I say the name and he stares at me with disbelief.

“But he’s in jail.” Frank’s where I was a few minutes ago, I just have to let him catch up.

“Evidently not anymore.”

Frank walks further into the house surveying the damage. I can hear him cursing softly as I find a chair that isn’t crushed and set it on its legs for Leslie.

She sits down with the cat in her lap and I turn to look at Piper. She looks like she’s spoiling for a fight. I’ve never seen this side of her. And I thought I liked her enough before. I still don’t think she needs to be out here getting hurt again before she’s really had a chance to get better. I’m going to say something to her about but before I can she sees my expression and cuts me off.

“I may not be perfect, but I’m all done lying around in bed and rotting, especially if you and Julie need me. I’m a big girl, V, trust me.”

Frank walks back into the kitchen and flips the light switch up and down for effect. “This is gonna take some time to fix back up.”

“I’m more concerned about my girls right now.” We both already knew that but I feel like I have to say it.

“I called around. Some of them are at Mercy Hospital. I did what I could on the phone to start covering for this, but our bankroll is starting to run a little thin.” This is his polite way of telling me that I need to transfer some more money into his account. Yet another thing Julie does for me.

I pull him off to the side and let Piper stay with Leslie in the kitchen. I don’t want to worry them anymore than they already are. “Did you talk to Julie?”

His shocked expression answers before he does. “No. She isn’t here?”

“I haven’t been upstairs yet, but I don’t think there’s anything up there I’m gonna be happy to see. I know there’s nothing alive up there.”

Piper steps in from the kitchen. She’s obviously been listening to us. ”I’ll go check.”

Frank gives her his pistol and tells her to be careful. She looks at him like he’s crazy. We both watch her start up the stairs and Frank turns back to me with the look of an ultimatum.

“Look, I know you don’t like police involvement here, but you need to let me bring Lewis in on this, even if it’s off the books. He needs to know that Calvin was here. I know you want to keep the girls and yourself out of trouble, V, but I also know you want them to be safe, and you can’t be here to protect them all the time. Look around.” I think it hurt him more to have to say that than it did for me to hear it.

I know he’s right.

I sigh and look back at Leslie sitting at the table. She’s hurt because I wasn’t here. Calvin is trying to ruin my life for whatever reason, and the girls are getting caught in the middle.

Piper returns, and looks shaken but not badly. “It’s rough up there, and there’s blood, but no one dead.” She adds as an afterthought, “No Julie.”

I’m not sure if that’s good or bad news at this point.

“Frank, you need to call and find out if you can get someone out here to get the power back on. Piper, clean off a couch or something for Leslie to lie down on. I’m going to see how bad the basement looks.”

Grabbing a broom, Piper walks to the front of the house with determination. I turn to look at Frank, phone in hand, and tell him what I don’t want to make a big deal out of in front of the girls.

“It gets worse. There were a couple of clients here when this went down. I don’t know who they were yet, but that’s got to get taken care of too.” I know that really made his night, he looks deflated.

“Look, you’re right. Call Lewis. Keep him out of the house as much as you can, but do what you have to do to keep them safe.” He’s nodding, which means he’s already working on a plan of action. That much is good. “I’m gonna call Garrett and get him to give me a hand.”

That hit him like a brick to the face, and I know it as soon as the words hit the air between us.

“I’ve got to get to the bottom of this, and keep more of this from happening. I think he can help.”

Frank is nonplussed. He feels like I’m replacing him with Garrett, like I’m not counting on him enough. It’s not the case, but his fragile ego, while important to me, isn’t as important as protecting those I care about.

I head down to the basement to find that it’s been untouched. Taking stock of my liquid food supply in the back of the wine closet, I find I’ve got enough preserved to last for a couple of weeks with the house not operating. After that though, I’m back on the streets hunting for my meals.

This insanity has to stop.

***

Frank orders a coffee and tells the waitress he’s expecting a friend who’ll likely have coffee as well. Then he looks out the window and rolls over in his mind what he can and can’t say. He wonders when it was that life got so complicated.

The diner on Twin Pines Road is open twenty-four hours a day, and is only two blocks from Mercy Hospital. It’s the ideal spot to meet Lewis to discuss what he can about Calvin. He even believed that until he got here.

They’ll be the only two people in the place and the staff seems low on things to do with their time.

He just came from the hospital, checking on the girls. None of them are hurt bad enough to really be worried about. But the point is that they got hurt. He can’t help but feel almost as responsible for that as V does.

The sorest spot for both of them was still that no one knew what happened to Julie. He’s got two of his crews at the house now, one on the power issue, and the other just cleaning the place up. For what he pays them to not ask questions, he‘s okay with having them go to work at three in the morning with no warning. He’s never had a complaint.

Lewis’ sedan turns slowly into the lot and Frank can tell he just got out of bed. While he has no issue with waking up the people he has on payroll, his former partner is another matter.

As the sun is rising he tells Lewis, off the record, that Calvin was at the house tonight, he hurt a lot of people, and really tore the place up.

“Frank, listen to yourself.” His hushed tones are obviously to keep the service staff from overhearing, but his tone is cutting. “Look at the kind of people you’re working with. You used to be one of the best. I was proud to call you my partner. We made a difference back then, man. What happened to you?”

They’ve had this talk before. It never goes well. If Frank were still on the force he and Lewis would likely be living together by now. They had so much in common, and Frank found it so easy to get caught up in how passionate he could be, but it always comes down to an ideal world versus reality.

“I was proud of being who I was back then, Dave, but then it got to me. Watching the people we put away walk. Watching the difference we made be undercut by legal loopholes and judges who didn’t want to put people away, bad people walking from serious charges because of overcrowding in the jails and prisons.” He’s explained this dozens of times, and in every way he can conceive of. He’s cited examples and pushed Lewis’ face in the facts but he would not see them.

“You are working with those bad people now, Frank! You’re working for one of the worst.” He said it because he knew it would bite. He couldn’t stand how much Frank cared about her.

“You don’t know everything.” He was trying his best to stay calm. This wasn’t why he’d called him here. ”You don’t know about her. And right now, catching this maniac should be your first concern.”

“I’m concerned about catching him, I really am, but I’m also concerned about you.” Lewis stands and drops cash on the table. “What happened to you, Frank?”

CHAPTER 15

THE OPEN MARKET THEATRE SITS one block off of the riverfront in Downtown Pekin. I’ve been to see plays here more than a few times. As local theatre goes, for small towns like this, it’s really not that bad. Tonight though, I’m not here for a show.

The building was originally built for an open air market, thus the name, but it sits next to several other locations of historical significance to the community of the restless dead, or so I’m told. Garrett supposedly tracked a few spirits that move regularly though this area, and he’s supposed to be meeting me when he’s done with whatever he’s doing with them.

I’ve met Lucy down here by the theatre more than a few times myself, so I’m more than willing to accept that he’s right about the area’s spirit traffic. Right now it’s not the thought of ghostly activity that’s bothering me, I’m more edgy now because he’s late.

I try to call him and get voicemail. “Hey, it’s V. I was supposed to meet you at nine and it’s almost ten. I realize that spirits probably don’t worry about time, but I do. Call me back when you get this.”

I hang up the phone and look down to put it in my purse. When I look up I see him walking toward me. Great, now I seem like an overanxious girl. Wonderful.

“Ignore the voicemail I just left you.” I say it with a big grin so he’ll think I’m being cute. Why am I so nervous?

We walk to where I’m parked and I offer to drive. It occurs to me as I’m starting the car that we only set up a meeting, I hadn’t actually told him why I wanted to see him, and yet here he is.

I spend the next thirty minutes driving aimlessly around beautiful downtown Pekin, and explaining to Garrett who Calvin Hocker is and what he’s done to my house. I let him know about Carl and Jake and the body snatching from the cemetery and then I tell him that I want his help. Amazingly, he says he’ll do it.

The location of Calvin’s house was one of the things I happened upon while rooting through the head of one of his nitwit cronies. I suggest we go and see if he’s there or if we can find any information on where he might be; maybe we can also find out what they’ve done with Rachel’s body along the way.

He agrees and seems concerned for Rachel’s body as well. This guy is unbelievable. I just hope he really is what he seems to be.

The house is in the county, middle of nowhere actually, and it has a long gravel driveway. If there’s anyone there they’ll see us coming a mile away, so I park on the road and tell him to sit with the car. I’m going to walk up to the house and if all is clear then I’ll call him to bring the car.

He likes the plan, he just insists that I be the one to stay with the car. I don’t like not being there first hand if anything happens, but he’s insistent and it’s not a bad feeling to be protected every now and again, so I agree.

I wait for fifteen minutes and it’s unbearable. I’m going over all the bad things that could have happened to him for the eightieth time when he calls and tells me it’s clear.

Pulling up to the house it occurs to me that anyone can see the car from the road, so I pull around behind an outbuilding and then join Garrett on the back porch.

I snap off the knob and push the door open as quietly as I can. We both walk in and I’m impressed by how quiet he is for a man of his size.

When we find the door to the basement I motion that I’ll go down and he should go on searching this floor. We split up and I do my best to quietly descend the creaky rotting stairs into the musty basement.

It doesn’t take long to find a room on the far end of the basement that Calvin was obviously using for a makeshift office. There are two computers, a filing cabinet, some camera equipment, and a photo printer.

Going through the desk I’m amazed at the amount of cash this little hick has on hand. I stop counting stacks of bills when I get over one hundred grand. There are photos in the bottom desk drawer and spreading them out on the desk I see that they’re of Frank, Julie, Garrett, and myself.

Now I’m confused. I just had to explain to Garrett who Calvin was, but it seems Calvin knows all too well who he is.

I shove the cash and the photos in my bag, and open another drawer when I hear glass crash on the floor upstairs. I bolt for the stairs and sprint up them, arriving in the living room in time to see Garrett roll off of the body.

Calvin is staring wide-eyed at the ceiling and lying completely motionless. I listen and I don’t hear a heartbeat. He’s not breathing either.

“Don’t you think this’ll make it kinda hard to question him?” I blurt out, as there seems to be no need for stealth anymore.

“He attacked me. I was defending myself,” he answers indignantly.

“And you were scared of that little guy. He looks like he was in rough shape before he even got here. I mean look at those…”

We both notice that Calvin is full of bullet holes. I assumed when I saw Leslie shoot him that he was wearing a vest or some kind of body armor. There’s no way this guy should have been able to do anything to anyone except bleed on them.

“Okay, that’s fucked up. Let’s finish searching this place and get out of here.” I start to head back to the basement but Garrett grabs my arm.

“I don’t know for sure, but I think that’s what you were looking for.” He points to a wooden crate in the corner. I lift the lid and see Rachel’s face looking up at me. It’s heavily decayed but it’s her.

I don’t even have time to say anything before it’s the night we met all over again. An invisible sledgehammer hits me in the face and knocks me to the floor. Only now do I notice the shadows moving independently through the room.

Garrett is getting knocked around too until he pulls out a tarnished silver cross. Just holding it has made them drop him and move back. Then he says something I don’t understand, I think it might be Latin, and there’s the same intense strobe I remember from the funeral home.

The shadows flee, but I doubt they’ll be gone long. I yell to him, “Help me get her to the car!”

He rushes over and picks up the other end of the imitation casket, and we make a break for the door.

“Are you ever gonna tell me how you do that flash of light thing? Is it the cross?”

“We’ll call it…” He starts to answer, but I cut him off.

“Magic? I’ve heard that one. Try being more descriptive.”

He laughs as we load the crate into the trunk. The shadows are beginning to close in on us again, so I jump in the car assuming he’ll do the same.

He doesn’t. The front of my Charger is lifted six feet in the air before I see another blinding flash from Garrett’s cross.

He jumps in and slams the door. “I think we should go now.”

I believe he has the right idea, so I slam her in gear and throw mud all over the yard as I head back for the road, and for home.

I can’t help but laugh out loud at the insanity of the situation. I look over at him and he laughs with me.

“You sure know how to show a girl a good time.”

***

Frank walks into the backroom of Digital Playplace with a fractured notebook in one hand and bottle of rum in the other. He may not know how to fix broken electronics but he knew how to get it done.

He’d found Julie’s notebook in the front parlor under pieces of a broken chair, rubbed most of the blood off of it, praying that it wasn’t Julie’s, and called to make sure he could get in to get it looked at tonight. Sometimes, he thought to himself, V didn’t appreciate how efficiently he got things done.

Jay Fontana does computer restoration for several companies in the area; he’s also done some work for the police force on the side, that’s how Frank met him. He owns Digital Playplace. It’s a place where kids can come and play games on their network against each other, or on the internet. He’s a good guy, but likes his booze a little too much.

Frank sets the bottle down on his desk before his heavyset friend even has a chance to look up. “You’re a good man, Frank. Don’t let anyone tell ya different. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Jay takes the notebook and looks it over, then he pulls out his tools. Popping the case off lets some thick red liquid drip onto the desk.

He looks up at Frank over his glasses. “That’s not blood is it?”

“That’s not a question is it?” Frank replies. That’s always the deal, no questions asked.

He looks back into the notebook taking more of it apart, and then examining it with his magnifying lamp.

“I can save the hard drive. Give me about an hour.”

This is the reason Frank likes him, he’s fast and he’s good. He takes a seat next to the desk and lets the man work his magic. In no time at all he’s asleep.

When Jay wakes him up, it’s to hand him a different notebook. Frank looks at it confused.

“I had to put it in something. It works fine, man. No data loss for you.” He gives a wheeze of a laugh, and sits back down at his desk with the bottle. “I’ll only charge you for the new notebook and an hour’s labor. Three fifty should cover it.”

Frank happily pays him and thanks him for his time on his off hours, and heads back to his car. In and out in less than two hours, not bad at all.

Looking over the notebook it takes him no time to find what he’s looking for. Now he knows who was there when Calvin decided to crash the party.

He starts the car and calls V. Pulling out of the parking lot he gets her voicemail. He leaves her a message. “I found out who the two clients were, Geoff Peters and Jerry Atkins, and I’m on my way to look into them now. Give me a call back when you get this”.

Now he just hopes the rest of his night goes as smoothly as this has.

***

Walking back into the house I’m impressed by how much Frank’s guys have already gotten done. It still looks like an abandoned house under construction. But they’ve managed to clean up and paint over the blood, get all the glass out, and get rid of the furniture that was broken beyond repair. Best of all the light comes on when I flip the switch.

I look around with optimism, but still see no Julie. I hope Frank has a lead on her. Now I have three people who I care about that have just gone missing. I really can’t stand the not knowing.

Garrett helps me again, carrying the wood box into the house and down to the basement. I take him into my office and show him where the trap door is under my desk. I think this was used for alcohol storage during prohibition, but now it will serve as a resting place for Rachel’s body.

We gently lower the small box into the hole and close the door over it. I feel like we won at least one battle tonight, as we slide my desk back over the door and I sit down.

Garrett sit opposite me as I empty the money and photos from my bag into the desk, leaving out the photos of him.

I sit those photos on the desk and look up at Garrett expectantly.

“I found these in Calvin’s house, with pictures of Frank, Julie, and myself. Any reason you can think of why they’d be there?”

Garret looks at the photos and then sits back hard in the chair. “I guess this is the point where I come clean about a few things. I’ll start with what happened tonight when Calvin found me in the house. He said he was working for someone named Mr. Molder, and could pay me to just leave you there and walk away. I would be well compensated. When I refused that’s when the struggle began, and you walked in at the end of that.”

He seems like he’s trying to gauge my reaction before he continues. I’m sure he knows I’m watching his memories as he’s telling me. I keep myself cool and even, trying to reveal nothing, and wait for him to proceed.

“Tonight wasn’t the first time I met Mr. Hocker though.” And as he says this his mind becomes hollow.

I raise my eyebrows slightly as I begin to panic and he smiles. He can manipulate thoughts like I can.

Suddenly my mind is flooded with thoughts that aren’t mine. I’m not used to it and it takes a moment to acclimate myself to the environment he’s shoving into my head.

I see him visiting Calvin in jail and removing his mind. That means that while that may have been Calvin’s body there tonight it wasn’t actually him. Something else was in control. That’s a scary thought.

“I came across Calvin while I was investigating the spirits in downtown Pekin. Calvin was surrounded by them, like bodyguards. I’m pretty sure he didn’t know they were there. It was when I discovered that the spirits surrounding him were unquiet that I felt like I needed to know more about him. I know he was working for a man named Molder. I knew that before tonight, I got it out of his memories. He only dealt with him through middle men, like Mikey Moran. I know you’re familiar with him.” He stops speaking to point out Mikey in my memories.

I can feel him in my mind, riding my thoughts and emotions as he talks. He’s better at this than I am though; to be as deep as he is I’d be causing pain. I’m frightened and aroused, and I’m sure he knows that.

“He’s never actually met Molder. I get the impression that whatever it was controlling him tonight has met him, though. Molder might be the one pulling the strings with the unquiet spirits that are amassing and might also be the one who has your Lucy and Rachel. I think he might have something to do with that funeral home because I tracked the unquiet movements and found that they keep going back there. That’s how I stumbled on you.” He finishes and leans forward, pulling the memory of our first meeting to the forefront of my thoughts. Letting me relive the rush I felt tasting him, how my body had responded.

I do all I can to stay focused on the conversation at hand. “You didn’t think letting me know any of this before would have been helpful?”

He cracks a wry smile. “I didn’t know if I could trust you.”

I stand and walk over to him. I can see, in my mind and his, that we’re both thinking the same thing, both feeling the same desires. This is going to be incredible. To feel how he feels as he’s feeling me. It’s a dizzying turn on.

I stand in front of him, posing. My back arched, pushing my chest forward as I lean down to him. I slice into my arm with my fingernail letting blood run down to my fingertips, and holding them out to him.

He takes my fingers into his mouth and licks them clean, then runs his tongue up my arm to the blood source.

I run my hand up the back his neck and his hands find their way to my hips lifting me up onto him.

“So do you trust me now?”

CHAPTER 16

HER VOICE IS TINY AND SMALL. Her mouth is moving to speak or scream but there’s a distance to her voice that sounds miles away. Her white dress is fluttering out behind her as she’s running, but she isn’t moving.

The darkness moves around her revealing shadow people, gripping her and trying to pull her back and to the ground and still she runs, still going nowhere.

Her voice is melodious. Like a beautiful song being played so softly that only a few notes can be heard. Whatever she’s saying is important, her expression is of the most gravely earnest doctor giving life or death news to the patient in their charge.

Her lovely gown is being ripped, and her skin is beginning to fray as the shadows continue to claw at her, and with all their might stop her from running, from speaking. She only shows more determination.

Her voice grows slightly louder, enough to be heard for the briefest of moments. “Veronica, it’s you. It’s you he’s after!”

***

I sit up in bed shaking. It was just a dream, a vivid and horrible dream. It takes me a minute to orient myself. I’m home, I’m in my bed, there’s a naked man next to me smiling.

I completely forgot he was here.

Garrett smiles softly at me and asks, “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. It was just a dream. They’ve been kinda off lately, what with people I love missing, and everyone out to kill me.” I say it, now I just have to mean it. I have to be fine.

“I just think it’s incredible that you can sleep. I’d heard that some of us still could, but you are the first one I’ve actually met.” He leans in and kisses me on the forehead before he gets up and walks to the bathroom.

He’s certainly nice to watch walk away.

I hear the shower start, and then he calls back to me, “Are we going out hunting for a drink, or do you have something in the house?”

“I have some here. That should save us some time.”

I wonder for a moment if it would be horribly out of place to join him, but then I consider that I took a shower right before I went to sleep and I don’t want to seem clingy.

Picking out clothes I remember what it felt like to have him inside me, inside my mind, and being inside his. This could really be the death of me.

I have on the thin maroon dress I was wearing when I met him. The cleaners managed to get out all the splinters and drywall dust. I think I’ll wear that with fishnets and my twenty-two hole boots. I want him to think I’m sexy, but he has to know that I’m not afraid to get dirty.

I step into the bathroom and try to use the mirror in the fog of steam. I brush out my hair, and put on some of my scent. I can come back and do my make up when it won’t melt off me.

It’s almost evening and aside from his shower running the house is quiet. It doesn’t seem right.

Peeking my head out into the hallway, I can tell that no one is upstairs, not even sleeping. There are people moving around in the kitchen downstairs, but not many, and they sound like they are being hushed on purpose. Odd.

If I take the back stairs I should be able to get to the kitchen without getting sunburned in these last few minutes of daylight. I walk quietly and slowly, listening to the voices until I can tell it is Leslie and Piper. They’re talking to someone, but I haven’t heard another voice. Maybe it’s Frank, and he’s pouting about something.

I get to the point where I’m still in the shadows of the staircase but I can see into the room and I’m in shock. Piper and Leslie, in bandages, are sitting at the new kitchen table, trying to talk to Julie. My heart leaps at the sight of her, but something is wrong.

She looks tired, but recently bathed, and is staring at her hands folded in front of her. She’s not responding to them and their concern for her is palpable.

Seeing them like this I can’t help but feel like I’ve won the battle of bringing them together like a family, but why does it take something horrible happening to make them react this way?

Frank leans around the corner into the stairway door and scares me, almost to the point of making me jump. He smiles at me, but we both know it’s forced.

“She’s been back almost all day. She wandered in nearly naked and dehydrated, but we gave her a bath and dressed her. She still won’t eat or talk though.” He looks back at her sitting heavily in the chair, then at me. “You shouldn’t linger in the shadows. Some of us can smell your perfume and think it’s rude. Just sayin’.”

He walks over to the counter and pours two cups of coffee, as I walk to the table and sit. He’s even got my favorite mug. Frank can be so good to me.

Piper looks at me and then back at Julie but Leslie can’t take her eyes off me. She’s looking to me for answers and direction and I don’t have any. These girls have faith in me, and I keep letting them down.

I sit down at the table next to Julie and put my hand on hers, nudging her. She doesn’t even look up. This is my fault. If I had left her as I found her she might well have ended up dead, but is this any better?

“Julie?” I say her name and she looks at me, and my heart breaks. She’s so empty.

I enter her mind, or what’s left in there, and it’s worse than Calvin was. Julie is blank; she has no mind to speak of at all. No thoughts or will to do anything.

She has a vague sense that this place is home, and none of us are threatening her, but there are no real memories at all. It’s not just the attack, or what happened after it that’s missing, it’s her whole life.

That beautifully sharp mind and deep sea of emotion that she carries around inside her are gone, and the vacant hole that’s left tears me apart inside.

I stay in her head long enough to help her eat some food and that’s all I can take. She’s here but completely gone. Whatever did this to her frightens me.

Picking up my coffee I leave the room. I’m going to cry and that won’t be good for Piper and Leslie. I’ll have Garrett look at her, and see if he knows something or can do something. I feel so powerless.

The basement seems as it did the last time I saw Rachel. I can see in my mind’s eye where she sat reading. This place is beginning to hold heartbreak like Tupperware, keeping it nice and fresh for me.

I retrieve a bottle to share with Garrett and head back up to the third floor.

Step by step up the stairs I keep repeating in my head, things are getting better. I’ve got Garrett, and Frank. I’ve gotten Rachel’s body back from those sick fuckers. Julie is home, even if she’s not right. Maybe the tide is finally turning in my favor.

Frank follows me up to the third floor and stops me. He knows I’m not taking this well, and usually I’d confide in him. But I can’t give this to him. It’s just too much.

He fills me in on his progress so far. After tracking down all the information he could find on the two clients who were in the house when Calvin showed up, he’s learned that neither of them ever made it home.

“They weren’t in the house when we cleaned it up, but we don’t know what happened to them after they left here. No one has seen them at home or work. It’s like they just vanished.” His diligence is above and beyond.

I tell him to stay on top of it, and to pay some extra eyes and ears on the street to look as well. I have to really try to keep my voice from wavering. Then I tell him I have to go get ready.

It’s as good an excuse as any and he goes back downstairs. As soon as the door closes to my room the tears start. I barely have time to put my coffee and blood on the dressing table before I start shaking. What have I done? What have I gotten the people closest to me into?

Garrett comes out of the bathroom. I can hear him, but I don’t look up. He pulls me up to him and holds me. I can feel him filling me with what strength he has to give.

He’s searching my thoughts and it doesn’t take long to find the source of my pain. He comforts me, letting me know that all of this isn’t my fault, and that he’ll help find out who did that to Julie, and fix it if he can.

It does little to make my guilt subside, but it does make me feel less alone. I didn’t know how much I could need someone else, let alone another of my kind, in my life.

***

Frank’s phone rings as he’s headed back downstairs. He takes it out and sees it’s Lewis calling, so he excuses himself to Piper and Leslie and steps out into the back yard before answering.

“David, before you say anything. I just want you to know that I’ve thought about what you had to say. I think there are some facts you are unaware of that might change your perspective on this, facts I can’t give you, but perception is nine tenths of reality. So I understand why you’ve been upset with me.” He says it all so fast that he’s not sure Lewis had actually understood him.

There’s an awkward pause, a lull on the line between them before Lewis finally takes a deep breath and responds. “Wow. I’m not going to do this now, Frank. I didn’t call you to have this conversation.”

“Why did you call if you didn’t want to talk to me?”

His tone is that of exasperation, and a little sadness. He obviously didn’t want to get any more personal than he had to. “It was a courtesy call, because I know you. Don’t take this the wrong way, Frank. I’m just calling to give you a heads up so you don’t get shot or worse.”

“What are you talking about?”Now Frank was confused.

“Look, I have no desire to help Veronica Fischer out of any mess she’s gotten herself into, but we got some information, from two sources now, that there’s a hit out on her.” He left a million questions in the air as he made the mad dash to get facts out and nothing more.

“Okay? Who’s picking up the tab?”

“Some guy name Molder; we’ve got next to nothing on him. I think it’s probably an alias, but his money’s real.”

“Is it local, regional? What are we looking at?”

“I can’t tell you everything we’ve got, Frank, it’s not my case, but the best we can tell is he’s tried to hire local and has been unsuccessful. That’s due to her reputation, we believe, but who knows how long he’ll have that luck.” Every statement he made had goodbye implied, but Frank just kept talking.

“Yeah, some moron is always gonna try to make the money. Is he looking at outside professionals?” Digging for more than someone wanted to say had always been one of his strong suits but now he was using it on someone he cared about. He felt like an asshole, knowing that he was exploiting Lewis’ emotions for information, even if it was to potentially save his life.

“Worse, he’s open to all takers, and he’s practically advertising. She’s gonna have psycho hillbillies and rednecks from states away trying to kill her in a cornfield somewhere.”

This was something to be filed under worst case scenarios, and forgotten about. Not something to try to live through. Both of them knew it, and neither of them liked where they sat in this mess, or the hands they’d been dealt.

“Shit. That’s crazy. You don’t know what it’s about or who this guy is?”

“I don’t really care what this is all about. Not my case, not my problem. I just don’t want you getting caught in the middle of it, that’s all. I just, damn it, you know.” He’s pleading with Frank the only way he knows how.

A deep sigh escapes him as he realizes why Lewis is really calling. This is a tangled mess.

“How much is he paying?” He tries to keep the conversation on the facts, get as much on the situation as he can. It’s the only way to keep the emotions out of it.

“Last we heard of, fifty grand. But the price may go up to get more fish to bite.”

Another long pause and Frank almost thought he’d been hung up on when Lewis finally continued. “Look, Frank, you’re gonna get shot or worse, you keep running with this Veronica Fischer. We both know that. I care about you, maybe ‘cause I’m stupid, I don’t know. But you gotta walk away from her.”

“I can’t do that, Dave. I couldn’t walk away from you either.” He knew he meant it, but how could he ever hope to convince Lewis of it.

“Whatever you say, Frank. You already did.”

This time the line did go dead, and Frank went inside to be the bearer of bad news yet again.

CHAPTER 17

I FEEL LIKE A CAGED ANIMAL. I’ve been essentially locked up in my tower with Garrett hiding from the world. Feeling guilty for what I’ve done, or let happen, to those I care about. It is my fault, and I get that, but I’m all done with the pity party. I need to focus on solving my problems and not just crying over what they’ve cost me.

I put on my makeup like I was going to work and check myself in the mirror. Garrett tells me I look beautiful but I know that. I’ve refined my appearance over decades to know exactly how to get what I want.

Right now, I want my life back.

I have my handsome new beau follow me downstairs and I take control back of my house. I have Leslie and Piper take Julie to the bedroom off of my office in the basement to rest. I tell them that she needs the rest, not that I need her out of sight to ease my guilt.

I call Frank over and let him know that I’m going to do another sweep of the city for Lucy and Rachel. I know that Garrett has been tracking spirit activity in town so I inform him that if he’d like to help me I’d appreciate it.

I’m getting back on top of my game when Frank tells me that we need to talk.

There’s that phrase again. It really should have some punishment attached to it.

He gives me the details of his conversation with Lewis, and Molder’s price on my head. I tell him that we’ve already put it together that Calvin was working for Molder. Garrett is pretty sure that Calvin was acting on Molder’s behalf when he hired Carl and Jake to go and collect Rachel’s remains.

I would just chalk all this up as some pissed off breather I’ve stepped on in the past coming back to try to hurt me. Problem with that is that no breather I’ve ever known was good enough at doing their homework to have known about my attachment to Rachel.

When I consider Jake and how his body had been used, Julie’s lack of memory, and the fact that I couldn’t find Lucy, it started to make me feel like something dead was fucking with me.

Garrett suggests that there seems to be some tie between what was happening in my life and the unnatural amount of unquiet spirit activity. He thinks that there may be some greater impure spirit on the other side that I’ve angered in the past. This thing may be making its move on Pekin, setting up shop, and it may be settling some kind of score with me in the process.

While I don’t like that idea, I have to admit that it does fit the events.

Then I get a curve ball. My phone rings. It’s Paco. I answer the phone apprehensively. I know he still owes me information that I’ve already paid for, but I really don’t want to talk to that scab tonight.

“Make it quick, I’m busy.”

He doesn’t seem to be prepared for my greeting. It actually takes him a few seconds of odd sounds to be able to find the words he wants.

“I have information that you requested. I found where your Lucy is being held. The things that have her are no friends of mine either. For a nominal fee I might be able to help you get her back.” He sounds like more of a beggar tonight than the big strong bag of rot I dealt with last time.

“Where do you want to meet?”

“The storm sewers, by the treatment plant.” A little arrogance starts to creep back into his voice. “You remember the place, right?”

“I’ll be there in half an hour, you’d better be telling the truth.” I hang up before he can spit out whatever assurances he has for me. Even if he were outright lying to me I couldn’t afford not to check on it. Not for Lucy.

“Garrett, I’m going to meet Paco. He claims he’s found where Lucy is being held. Evidently he has no love for the spirits that are holding her so he’s agreed to help me get her out. You wanna give me a hand?”

Frank jumps in before Garrett can answer. “Are you out of your fucking mind? It’s a setup! C’mon, V, you’re smarter than this. People are trying to kill you, and this Paco guy may want to collect the reward.”

“It’s for Lucy. She’d do it for me. I have to, Frank. I’m sorry.”

“Well if you’re going then I’ll go with you. Maybe I can watch your back if it is a trap.” Garrett doesn’t seem completely behind the idea, but he’s with me.

“V, this is a bad idea. You’re gonna go with this guy who, no offense, we don’t know that much about and I really don’t trust, back to the guy who set you up before?”

“Garrett is the one who got me out last time I had to deal with those things, and I do trust him. Paco may not be the most honest of people, but I deal with a lot of slimy people in my line of business, and because of what I am.” I don’t expect him to like it, but he has to understand it’s my decision.

“A lot of people count on you, and care about you. We don’t want to lose you too.”

“I have to do what I think is right, for everyone. I still run this show, Frank. You still work for me.”

He’s at a loss. He turns and walks to the basement door. I assume he’s going to check on Julie. I love that man like the little brother I never had but I have too many lives in my hands to let things keep going the way they have. If I can get Lucy back she can help me turn all of this around.

Garrett and I walk out to the garage and I can see on his face that he’s not comfortable. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I’m committed, you’re not.”

“No. I’m with you. Just let me call home first. I want Sunny to know what the plan is.” His words are confident, but he’s keeping me out of his feelings. I think he’s just hoping to keep me alive if things go south.

He wanders off on the phone for a few minutes. I get in the car, start it up and turn on the radio. I don’t want him to think I’m eavesdropping.

When he gets in he smiles at me and nods, and we’re off, streaking across town to meet the rotting scumbag who may hold the key to bringing my life back to normal.

***

Pulling up through the chain link fence to the sewage treatment plant, I’m awash with memories of my last visit here and I shudder. I can see by Garrett’s reaction that he can tell a little too much about what’s going on in my mind, so I do all I can to shift my thoughts to Lucy and what it means to me to have her back.

Just like last time, I begin to question my sanity as Garrett and I walk over to the overflow tunnels. There’s that same disgusting smell. I can feel my skin crawl just to be here.

We just begin to walk down the steps when I see Paco off to the right on a metal platform motioning us over. We make our way across the rusted metal floor grates that threaten to give way under us with every step and wonder how it is that a creature of Paco’s size is able to traverse them regularly.

“I didn’t know you were bringing a friend.” He says it pleasantly enough, but we can both tell he’s not pleased to see that I’m not alone.

“Come inside. I’ve prepared the ritual for you. There’s not much time now, we must hurry.” He seems genuine enough but I can’t help being nervous when I hear the word ritual.

We follow him into the dirty old controllers room, and down another set of stairs into what must have, at one point in the ‘50’s, been a fallout shelter.

Now I’m more than a little creeped out. This place is lit with only candles and there are bones that I recognize as human on the floor making a circle with a pattern inside it. There’s a dense smell of death in this room. It begins to coat my throat so badly that I have to stop myself from breathing to tolerate just being here.

“What’s the ritual for? You said you had found Lucy; where is she?” I ask, completely confused. I look to Garrett who is as baffled as I am.

“I did find her. She is being held by the unquiet mass at that mortuary. They are devouring her energy. They grow stronger, and I can’t allow that. You must get her out before they grow too powerful to combat.” He seems bent on the urgency of the situation but I’m wary of him.

“What is this ritual you plan on performing?” Garrett asks the question for me, thankfully. However, Paco is clearly upset that we’d dare question him and not simply do as we were told.

“A hard prospect, boy, to do battle with things you cannot touch. Even if you go to the place they hold her Lucy, you couldn’t get to where they have her, or free her. This will let you do those things. Let you move freely in their space.” He stops staring at Garrett and goes back to sprinkling ashes around the circle of bones.

“It is difficult for those without practice to perceive the thin film that separates their world from ours. I have found an ancient art that allows for one to pass physically through that film without breaking it. The ritual is the sentio callide mortuus. I call it ‘the subtle death’.”

He opens a moldy book and begins to thumb through its yellowed pages, until he finds what he is looking for, then he begins sprinkling blood on the ground in the center of the circle.

“It only allows you to cross over for a short time,” Paco continues his explanation. “Too much time spent there, even for ones of your affliction of blood, would prove fatal. The decay that is the core of that world would break down all that you are and leave nothing but a husk. Do what you have to do quickly.”

He turns to glare at us, what passes as his face was drawn more tightly than usual for emphasis. “Once you are in their realm, you will not be able to communicate with anyone on this side, unless like me, they have sensitivity to the spirit world. You will be on your own. Only breaking these two iron charms will bring you back to this world.”

He hands one to each of us. They are an ugly gray, and shaped to look like hands.

“You must snap them in half. If you lose them you will be trapped there, so hold onto them tightly.”

Garrett puts his in his coat pocket and buttons it. I don’t have that luxury. Mine goes in my bra. Close to my heart because it means my life, I guess.

“You’ll both need to lie down in the circle.” He points to it and then smiles at me.

“Don’t worry, pet, this time you just need to lie still. I don’t need the same performance as last time.” He says it with a giggle that makes killing him seem too nice a reaction.

Garrett looks from me to Paco and back and then as I get in the circle of bones he follows. I know he feels awkward now, but not nearly as much as I do.

“I guess we just grin and bear it?” Garrett says as we both lie down, and then he takes my hand.

“When the ritual is complete, I will take you in my van to the funeral home. I suggest the ride only because I doubt you would want to encounter some of the things that roam freely in the spirit realm. I don’t believe you’re prepared for that.”

Paco begins to mumble some words and there is a stinging pain that courses through both of our bodies. I let out a little yelp at the unexpected sensation and Paco laughs.

“Did I forget to mention that it hurts like a son-of-a-bitch?”

***

Paco stops his van on the far side of the parking lot of the Sikes Funeral Home and parks. He looks over his shoulder, back into the empty rear of the van, and tells us it’s time.

We step through the side of the van, making a sticky-wet suction sound, and stand on the sidewalk. We both take a few steps forward into the lot and stand looking at the building with dread.

We’re both familiar with what this place looks like normally, but seeing it in the spirit realm is something that neither of us was at all prepared for. The building itself is more grey than the white painted exterior of its living world counterpart, and it’s covered in stress cracks caused by the walls moving slightly in and out. It’s like the whole damned building is breathing.

There’s an almost black light glow radiating out from inside and flowing through the windows out into the lot where we’re standing. It gives the building an ominous sense of devouring. As though this is where life and light both went to die.

I look at Garrett and, with as much of a smile as I can give, tell him, “If we’re gonna keep seeing each other, you’re gonna have to start taking me out to better places.”

It seems odd to me as we’re walking up to the building that I’m wearing the same thing I was the last time I came here, when I met Garrett. Clothes carry memories for me, and even if this is what I was wearing when we first met, I might have to burn it on general principle. I don’t want to come back to this place.

As we approach the doors Garrett pulls the cross from his pocket and I get a better look at it than I have before. It’s silver, and clearly very old, but not all that ornate or pretty to look at.

He knows what I’m thinking and answers, “It belonged to a monk. He made it. It wasn’t supposed to be artistic; it was meant to be functional.”

As we walk into the building it begins to shine, and I have to agree with him. I’m happier right now, that it’s functional and not pretty.

There are giant black demons screaming and moving all around us trying to stay out of the light of the little silver cross. The shadows that I fought with are a lot scarier now that I can see what they actually look like.

These things are shaped like people, but on a much larger scale, and they have wings like bats. They have horns growing out of their heads, some of them have dozens of them, and their eyes are a sickly smoldering ember orange.

Had I known what I was getting into I might have made a different choice, but it’s way past the point of backing out.

I take the locket that Lucy gave me out of my pocket, and like Paco said it would be, it’s glowing. I turn around and when I see it glow brighter I jerk on Garrett’s arm. “This way!”

With him close enough to me that we are almost one; we all but jump into a room that I know should be for funeral services. Things in this world are very different though. I almost fall into a pit just inside the door.

Looking around I see a hole on the other side of the room with stairs leading down. The light from the cross is beginning to fade as I point Garrett where I want to go and we take turns pulling each other across the cracked uneven floor.

The demon things are all around us. Evidently they weren’t kidding when they called these things unquiet, their shrieks are mind piercing and there are dozens of them wailing. They keep clawing in at us, their skin burning in the light, but they seem to heal as fast or faster than I can.

I can’t believe I agreed to do this without more backup or preparation. Lesson learned.

Heading down the staircase the glow from Lucy’s locket gets brighter. “We’re headed in the right direction!”

More swirling black arms and wings crash in around us and I come to two frightening realizations. The first is that these things’ bodies don’t follow the same rules and laws I’m used to; their limbs keep sprouting out of different parts of them as they swipe at us. The second is that the light from the cross is getting smaller and smaller.

“How long does that thing last?” I ask as the light draws in a little closer again, letting them circle in tighter as well.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he answers, tugging me tightly into him as a clawed hand rakes through my hair.

“That was not the comforting statement I was looking for!”

At the bottom of the crude set of stairs, I’m fairly certain that we are well off the architectural plans. I spin around again with the locket and find our heading. By now Garrett has picked up on the drill and takes off with me in unison.

We pass through an archway and I can see her. She’s in the center of the room in a cage. She’s glowing white, and obviously in pain as energy is being pulled out of her, exactly like the rotting sleaze ball had described. Bound and beaten she lays on her side with a massive iron collar, covered in runes and carvings, around her neck.

It’s a vision out of some surreal fairytale, where the pure of heart heroine in her flowing white gown is held prisoner in a cage by monsters, fearful creatures of darkness and evil. I watch these things swirl around her; they certainly fit the bill. I actually forget for the most fleeing second that this is actually my life. This is all far too real.

She sees me as I enter and shrieks for me to get out. I don’t care what she says, we’re here to rescue her, and by God I intend to do it.

We’re running toward her so fast that I don’t realize why she was telling us to get out until it’s too late. The closer we get to her cage the dimmer the cross is getting as its energy is also being drawn away. The claws swipe close enough now to rip lightly into my back. Just this shallow rake leaves me with unbelievably searing pain and I think I wet myself a little.

This is not going to be one of those amusing stories to tell at parties years from now.

We get to the cage and I rip the door off. Garrett looks impressed; evidently he didn’t know that I actually can toss a car around when I need to.

I pull Lucy out of the cage while Garret attempts to hold the unquiet spirits at bay. Their screams are almost to the point of making my head pop now.

I have Lucy in my arms and that’s when it happens. The light of the cross dies out completely. The room is now almost pitch-black, lit only by Lucy’s locket. There are hundreds of orange eyes swirling all around us, and their screeching begins louder than before.

Lucy looks up at me weakly and says, “You have to go. Get out now. I can’t leave with this thing on my neck and they’ll tear you apart.”

I start to reply to her but then a bus hits me in the face at full speed, or at least I imagine that’s what a bus would feel like. I thought these things hit hard in the real world.

“Lucy, I’ll be back for you!” I shout. “Garrett, break it! Break the charm!”

I take the charm Paco gave me in my hand as I’m being tossed in the air and then spiked to the floor like I was the ball in the most aggressive game of volleyball ever played. I hold it out in my hands to break it and I see Garrett, across the room now, do the same. We snap them and I feel the electric sting of the pull back to our own world.

The last thing I can see before my vision goes black is Garrett being pulled to the floor screaming, with clawed hands ripping into him.

Suddenly I’m back standing in the entryway of the funeral home alone. I wait for a few seconds pacing around and still no Garrett. This can’t be happening.

I run out of the building and across the parking lot to where Paco is waiting in his van.

I jerk the door open and scream in at him, “Garrett’s charm didn’t work! He was being held by the spirits. You’ve got to send me back in.”

“No! You idiot. Why would you lead them back out here?” I grab his arm as he tries to pull away from me to start his van.

“You are going to send me back in to save him!”

“I’ve already done too much for you, for what little pleasure you had to pay with. I will not aid you further and risk putting myself in the way of the unquiet souls’ vengeance. You’ll have to find your own way now.” He pulls free and starts the engine.

“So help me I will find a way to make your life miserable. I will dedicate myself to your suffering if you leave him in there like this.” I spit the words at him with all the bile and vitriol I can muster.

“Need I remind you that attacking me would violate Jacobi’s rules, bloodsucker? I did what I could to help you. You failed. I will not suffer from your failures.” He drops his van in gear and tries to close the door.

Pointing back over my shoulder he begins to scream some unintelligible slurs. I turn back just in time to see the shadows pouring out of the building and moving swiftly, like some demonic oil slick racing to envelop us.

“Get in, you idiot, if you want to live!” He’s starting to pull away from the curb as I dive into the van. The tires squeal and that place becomes a memory.

There’s no conversation on the drive back to the treatment plant. He and I are at an impasse and there’s nothing else I can do. When we pull up next to my car I get out and look back in at him.

“This isn’t over, you smug bastard. I swear to you it isn’t.” I say the words with ice cold hatred, letting him take the door from me.

“You’re right. They will extract what they feel to be justice for your less than successful trespass into their home. I will not be a victim of their reckoning. Live with your failure.” He slams the door and pulls away quickly.

CHAPTER 18

WHY IS IT THAT EVERY TIME I stand up and dust myself off, I get knocked in the dirt harder than the last time? As I pull up the driveway I look forward to seeing my family, but feel like everything has just unraveled further, and I’ve failed them again.

Depression is starting to pour down over me. Frank will be happy I guess that something bad happened and I shouldn’t have gone like he said. He may even be happy that now Garrett is being held by those things too.

At least with Garrett beside me I felt an emotional bond to someone that took a lot of the weight off me, like my load was the same but lighter because he was sharing it.

I guess I’ve let him down now, too.

The garage is full so I park on the side of the house. Evidently Frank took Piper or Leslie to get a car for something, and it looks like my VW has been moved. That’s strange, but not horribly out of place considering all that’s gone on lately. I take my leather jacket out of the back seat and use it to cover the wounds that still haven’t healed on my back. I walk around to the front of the house and stepping up on the front porch I see that they’ve put in my new front door.

Frank has a carpenter who works exclusively with antique restorations set to work on trying to put what’s left of my stained glass in a similar era door. I appreciate the effort, but it’s going to take a lot more than a new door to make this place feel like home again.

I open the door, and step into the front parlor and see Julie sitting on the sofa smiling at me. “Hi, boss. I’m back.”

Okay, now that brings home a little bit closer.

She stands up and holds her arms out and I practically run over to her. I wrap my arms around her and squeeze tightly as she and I both start to cry.

“Are you really you?” I ask it aloud but I can feel her, the emotion pouring off of her. My Julie’s back.

“As much as I ever was.” She beams a smile at me through her tears and I squeeze her firmly again.

Piper and Leslie stroll in from the kitchen, both grinning like the little succubi they are.

“Nobody called me.”

“We weren’t sure how long it would last, and we didn’t want to get you excited over nothing,” Piper explains.

“She just woke up a few minutes after you left, confused and wanting breakfast. So, ten pancakes, some bacon and bath later…here she is.” Leslie is glowing as much as Julie and I are.

“I don’t know what happened, V. The last thing I remember was that guy coming at me and then I woke up in bed.” Julie is trying to give me explanations I don’t need right now.

“We’ll figure that out. All we need to focus on is that you’re back, and how lost we all were without you.”

The four of us spend over an hour together in the parlor telling Julie what she’s missed, and I tell them what happened with Lucy and Garrett.

They are concerned but clearly happy that I’m actually back with them again and not so caught up in all the drama for the moment. Sometimes I forget how close we actually are, and how distant I can become. It’s only at times like this that I’m aware of how far I’ve gone from those who matter so much to me.

“I just can’t lose you, Julie. I’ve already lost so much so fast. I built so much on you, and I don’t mean that to be a burden on you, but I just can’t deal with losing you. You’re like my right hand. Not like a servant, or even a friend, but a part of me.” I break down a little and the tears come back.

Julie tells me not to cry, but the four of us all continue.

Frank walks in and seems apologetic for a moment for interrupting. Then he asks if he can talk to me privately. I step out into the backyard with him and he tells me that Lewis has warned him to stay clear of the Jefferson House if I was going to be here. The police it seems are supposed to be watching the place.

“Why would they be watching our house?” I’m confused, but at this point unsurprised to get bad news.

“Witnesses have come forward and identified you as the ‘murderer’ of Calvin Hocker. There was evidence recovered at the scene where his body was found that places you there.” I start to speak but he waves me off, speaking over me. “It gets worse. Geoff Peters and Jerry Atkins, the two missing clients I’ve been looking for, they’ve come forward with charges that you have been running a house of prostitution and trying to blackmail them.”

He pauses to let that sink in as my eyes widen.

“Yeah, you like that? They allege you tried to kill them when they refused your blackmail attempts.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I wish I weren’t, really wish I weren’t. But there are multiple warrants for your arrest. This is not a safe place for you to be during the day, just in case.”

Frank asks about where Garrett is, and I’m impressed. I can tell he actually wants to know, it’s not just a nicety for my sake.

I explain how things went down with Paco and the funeral home, and how I saw shit that he would not believe in there. That we saw Lucy, but we couldn’t save her. How Garrett is still there, trapped now too, and Paco refused to help. Frank tries hard not to say “I told ya so” but I can see it, I can feel it.

I ask him if he’s told the girls about the warrants yet, and he says no. So I ask him to step back inside with me so we can sort some things out.

I get them all back together in the parlor and tell them that for safety we’re gonna do a couple things different for right now.

I’m going to do a couple things and then head to the ranch house to stay for tonight and tomorrow during the day.

Julie and Frank are going to meet me there in about two hours, and then they’ll be back here for the night.

Piper and Leslie are going to hang at the Mercy Hospital waiting room, to be there for the girls that are still recovering, until I call and tell them it’s safe to come back.

Everyone says they’re clear on the plan, and we all go in separate directions getting things together. I head upstairs and pack, but not much, as I don’t plan on being out there long.

I know what my next step is, and I don’t want to do it, but if we’re gonna make it through this it has to be done.

***

I leave the Charger in the driveway. I want Frank to drive it back to the house to keep up the appearance of normality, and I don’t want it getting blocked in.

Walking into the ranch house tonight it feels like a prison. I walk into Jules’ bedroom, or the one that was his until he moved back to Chicago in ’95. It still feels like him in here.

I pick up a picture from the dresser of Jules with me when I was a little girl. Before I knew what he was. Long before he made me what I am. Am I doing the right thing?

I sit down on the edge of his bed and dial the number. It only rings once before I hear him, and I shudder deep down inside.

“Veronica?”

“Yes.”

“What is it you need, child?” I can’t tell over the phone if it’s compassion or contempt in his voice.

“I’m at the end of my rope. The town that I’ve called home for the better part of seventy years is now not a safe place for me to be. I have the police, hit men, spirits, and even the Council of Elders is after me. Almost all of the people I care about, protect, or count on are hurt, or missing. I’m really at my wits end and that’s why I’m talking to you. I need you, Jules. I have no one left to turn to. I really doubt I’d live if I try to load up and run, and I am too invested in those who’re missing to do that anyway.”

There’s a long breathless silence on the other end of the line, and I fear he may just be done with me.

“Stay where you are until tomorrow night. Pick me up at the airport at ten, and be ready to explain how things got so out of hand.”

The call ends. I don’t know if I’ve done the right thing or not, but I don’t see any other hope I have.

I flip the phone back open and scroll down through my phone book to find a runner. Jessica will do. She wouldn’t usually be the best idea for a job like this, she’s a bit of a junkie, but people won’t tie her to me, and my best people are either hurt or too busy.

She answers and is all too happy to pull another job for me. I pay her too well. I tell her to sit on the airport and watch it, from now until tomorrow night. My only explanation to her it that I have something important coming in, and I want to make sure it’s not going to be a problem.

“Can I share some of it?” She thinks I’m moving product, that’s great.

“You can have your usual salary. What you spend it on is up to you as always.”

***

While reclining in the living room with my eleventh rum and Coke, I hear the familiar sound of a VW engine pulling up my driveway. I look out the front window to see Julie pulling in and evidently Frank is riding with her. I believe that’s got to be a first.

I watch as Julie looks confused as where to park and Frank explains to her that since I left the Charger out I expect her to park in the garage. I can’t help but smile. He knows so well how I think.

They walk into the house and I call them into the living room. Frank heads for the bar, and I’m not surprised. Julie can see right away that there’s something wrong, but she seems afraid to ask.

“Frank, get your drink and come over here and sit down. I want to talk to the two of you.”

Julie sits on the couch with her back to the front window. I love the girl’s innocence. Even with people trying to kill us she can turn her back to the world.

Frank walks over and takes the chair next to mine and hikes his leg up. They’re both looking at me expectantly. I don’t know if the news I’m giving them is good or bad. I don’t want to tell them that I think it could make things any worse, but I have to be honest.

“I know that I’ve told you both about Jules before. He’s the one who found me, raised me, and gave me the disease that seems to be my asset and enemy these days.”

They both nod, like they are both reluctant to make any judgment yet, wait to see where story time with V will lead them.

“Well, he used to live here. Here, in fact, in this house. He moved to Chicago years ago, but he left me this place, along with several other things here and there that have helped me navigate my life, and become what I have been for as long as you’ve known me.”

I take another drink of my Coke-colored rum, hating that I have to talk about this.

“I feel that I’ve reached a point where there isn’t anything left that I can do to put things back together for all of us. So rather than let it get any worse, as I’m sure I’m talented enough to do, I’ve called Jules and asked him to help. He’ll be coming in by plane tomorrow night, God help us all.” I say it quickly and down another drink.

“If that was supposed to be a pep talk, boss…” Frank trails off, but Julie picks up for him.

“Yeah, I don’t feel your pep there at all. What’s the downside to this? If he’s like your father, won’t he do anything he can to help you out?”

“The truth is, I’m not sure how he’ll take this, or what will happen. He may swoop in and save the day. He may just kill me for embarrassing him with the Council. I really don’t know.”

I stand and wobble a little, making my way to the bar for a refill. Frank and Julie both notice my condition and now the almost healed claw marks on my back.

Frank speaks up first. “V, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.”

“Drunk?” I ask him with a little laugh.

“Well, yeah. Drunk… and hurt too.” I know he’s worried about me, but what he doesn’t see is that this is the bottom; it can only go up from here.

“My body purges alcohol so quickly it’s hard for me to get drunk, but I can do it if I’m determined. I don’t think I own enough booze to get sloppy though. I’m just trying to take the edge off.”

Julie finally decides to chime in. “What about your back, those… scratches?”

I turn around to see two seriously shaken children scared that their parent has completely lost their mind.

“Those were from the spirits I failed to rescue Lucy from.” I say it as level as I can. Maybe it’s time to stop drinking for the night. As an afterthought I add, “Oh, and lost Garrett too.”

Yeah, I’m cutting myself off right there. I make the decision a moment before I see the sun coming up.

“Julie, I need you to get the black steamer trunk with the leather straps from the basement, and make sure that the clothes in it are going to be ready to wear tomorrow night when I wake up.”

She nods but continues to stare at me for a moment, until I wave her off.

“Frank, I’d like you to take her back to the Jefferson House in the afternoon. We need to keep up appearances, so take the Charger, please.”

I notice again that I feel a little dizzy and light headed.

“I think I should lie down.”

I get as far as the hallway before I turn to Frank and give him more honesty than I probably should.

“On the bright side, this is all going to be over very soon, one way or the other.” I give a smile that he doesn’t return and then, “Be ready tomorrow night in case I need to call you.”

He nods to me and I head down the hall to my room, fall into bed and am promptly unconscious.

CHAPTER 19

“THAT’S IT, THAT’S EVERYTHING. That’s how I got in this mess that has spiraled completely out of control.” I look down at my floor, my face red, and tears flowing down it. It seems so much worse when I have to relive it.

Jules looks down at his drink as he pushes back deep into the dark brown oversized chair. He leans the glass to the side and shakes it slightly, clinking the ice cubes together. Pondering everything he now knows about the situation. I’ve told him everything, and what I didn’t say I know he saw firsthand from my memory. I’m on pins and needles.

He is still my hero and savior, at least until he tells me that I’m not worth the time or effort anymore. I hope that there is still something left in him that cares about me.

He stands and walks slowly back over to the window. He looks out for a few moments before turning and retrieving the knife from its case on the table.

Looking back over to me, he motions me to join him. My body reacts before I can even think about what he wants.

He looks into my eyes. I know that he can see much more than my soul with that gaze, and I squirm a little under its weight.

“I gave you this when you were sixteen, to protect yourself from the things that come after sixteen year old girls.” He raises his hand to my cheek and his thumb touches my lips. Instinctively, my body reacts and my fangs are bared.

“I gave you these to protect you from the things that any normal girl shouldn’t have to encounter. Nightmares and monsters.” He lets his hand drop from my face and I immediately miss it.

“What you’re facing now, whatever it is that has set out to destroy you; it is more than I’ve prepared you for. I gave you nothing to protect you from it. The fact that you have done as well as you have is a testament to the things I didn’t give you. Your choice in people to surround yourself with, your natural charm, your razor-sharp intellect and the speed at which it moves, these are why you are still alive.” His words melt into me, they spill over me like a wave. How could I have waited so painfully long to call on him for help? How could I have forgotten how good he is to me?

He walks across the room to the bar and pours himself another drink. His attitude has shifted. He’s protective and proud, and I can tell. I can’t help but blush a little as I look over at him lifting his glass to his lips.

“To be honest, I don’t see many things that I would have done differently; based on the information you had at the time. I do think this Molder should have come to your attention sooner if you were running your affairs as tightly as I taught you.”

He looks at me and I really must be a mess. Blood on my torn dress and makeup running tear streaked all over my face. It’s a scary thing to be in his gaze and know my imperfections.

“Why don’t you go get cleaned up and change clothes? Then we can discuss how to fix your problems.”

I can’t help but laugh through my tears. I walk over and hug him. Holding onto him is the safest I’ve felt in so long. I’m not in control but everything is going to be right again soon.

***

The soft hum of the Japanese engine purrs into the driveway of the Jefferson House, as Frank pulls the flat black car he’d been relegated to slowly into the garage. He turns the car off and slides out of the seat and walks out of the garage muttering to himself about drinking from guys who weigh less, and how rare it is to find a good guy named Buck.

He crosses the backyard slowly, looking off to the hedge line at the rear of the property. He saw some guys hanging around over by the corner on his way in, and with all that’s been going on lately, he’s a little on edge.

He talks to Julie in the kitchen briefly, small talk about if she should make food or not, and heads upstairs to see if he can get a better look from the upstairs windows out at the back of the property.

He stands silently, like a cat about to pounce, staring out of the only southern facing third floor window. Even at four in the morning on a moonless night he can still see more than he wants to.

From here he can easily observe the front of the old disused bottling plant, about a block away, and intently focus on two people who must think they are hidden from view looking at the house though a camera. They must have a good lens, he thinks as he turns away and pulls the curtains shut.

He could swear that one of those guys looks like that Carl guy Lewis had arrested for his late night shovel exploits. This could really be bad if he was right.

He makes a mental note to call V, when he has a better idea of who they are and what they’re doing, but first he has to make sure that Julie knows to lay low, and be careful.

When he gets back to the kitchen Julie isn’t there. He calls for her, but gets no reply. This is a bad sign.

He draws his pistol and creeps slowly down the hall, looking above, in, and around everything. The black cat nudges at his feet and he pushes it back toward the kitchen.

Coming into the front parlor he gets even more nervous, as he sees the new front door standing open just a crack.

He paces quickly over to it, looking side to side and checks the porch. Again he calls for Julie, this time more softly. Still nothing.

He thinks about how stupid he’s going to feel if she went up the front stairs to look for him when he came down the back. And he starts up the stairs. His crew had been in today and laid all new carpeting on the first floor and up the front staircase. It was a light tan textured plush, and was so thick he couldn’t even hear his footsteps as he crept up the stairs.

The basement door in the hallway opens slowly, making no sound. Frank still heading up the stairs can’t even see it. She creeps out the door and into the hallway, keeping close to the wall next to the stairs.

There’s a banging on the porch outside the front door, as a flower pot falls over in the breeze, but it’s enough to spook Frank and draw his attention to the door.

She steps out from the wall as he’s looking at the door and raises the gun. He never sees it coming.

Frank feels like a hammer hit him in the center of his chest. Then there’s the deafening crack of a .45 at close range. He’s knocked back into the wall as an electric wave of pain that rushes though him all the way to his fingertips and toes.

Julie drops the gun as she begins crying in jagged sobs and apologizing. “Frank, I’m so sorry. I would never hurt you. You have to believe me. I love you, Frank. I’m so sorry.”

Looking down at the hole in his chest, now poring blood like an open tap onto the new light carpeting, he manages to say, “This… this is why we can’t have nice things.”

He drops to one knee, and then falls backward down the stairs.

He can hear splashing sounds distantly, somewhere off in another part of the house; then they get closer. He struggles to open his eyes and then to regain focus.

She’s carrying blue plastic jugs of kerosene around, dumping them out and spattering the walls. The smell is overpowering. He tries to sit up and everything gets a little dimmer.

She takes no notice of him moving as she continues with her work, soaking the building with more than enough kerosene to jumpstart hell.

Julie comes closer, finally, to where he’s laying on the floor with another jug in her hand, and stands looking down at him, her face red and covered in tears. He tries to speak, but only gets out one word.

“Don’t.”

She cries convulsively as she dumps the jug over her head. He tries to reach her but she’s still almost ten feet away and he can’t even lift his hand now. He’s freezing cold and everything seems very dim and far away.

In between breaths she softly says, “I’m sorry, Frank, for all of this. I really am.”

Holding a box of matches up in her hand she manages to say, though her sobs, “Goodbye.”

She strikes a match and the house explodes in flames. Julie becomes a blinding column of light for the last moments Frank sees her. Then everything goes black.

***

Lewis is the first to arrive on the scene, with two cruisers, sirens blaring, behind him. He gets out of his car on the street and is surprised at how completely the house is engulfed. The heat from the blaze is already melting the power lines as he tells the uniformed officers to push back the crowd that’s starting to gather on the street.

From inside the house he hears screaming and then gunfire. It doesn’t seem possible to him that anyone could be alive in there. But it sounds like someone is having a firefight.

There’s more screaming from inside. It’s definitely a woman, and it’s obvious she’s in a great deal of pain.

He looks at the one of the uniformed officers and asks, “How long on the fire department?”

“Fire and rescue are on their way, sir. They say about ten minutes.” He answers Lewis and then runs to stop a group of kids with camera phones from getting close enough to get hurt.

Windows on the third floor start to blow out, and he decides he’s not going to wait ten minutes. Not when he might be able to save whoever that was screaming. He runs up the driveway and sees Frank’s car parked in the garage. Now it is just too much for him.

Across the backyard he sees the water hose. He gets to as fast as he can and soaks down his trench coat. He drapes it over his head and pulls it together in the front over his nose and mouth.

Ducking down as much as he can, he walks up and into the open backdoor.

This was definitely arson. He didn’t need to wait for a report to tell him that, everything is on fire.

The screaming was coming from upstairs but the back staircase had collapsed. He’d only been in this place once before but he was fairly certain if there was nothing blocking his way he could make it to the front stairs.

He ducked out the back door and took a deep breath and then headed back inside. Remembering his emergency training he got low to the floor, and tried as best he could to follow a wall through the kitchen and down the hallway.

The floor was on fire from whatever chemical was used to light this place up and it was seriously slowing him down. Visibility in here was next to nothing, he was running out of air, and worst of all his coat was starting to dry out.

He knew that if he started trying to breathe, he could be dead in no time at all. This was really becoming a race against time, in a man-made hell.

After what seems like hours without a breath he finds the curve to the bottom of the staircase. As he’s turning to go up his feet kick something that has enough give that he thinks it’s a person.

Feeling down by his feet he’s sure of it. This is a body. He drags himself on top of it and it’s his worst nightmare. It’s Frank.

He can see that he’s been shot and he has no idea if he’s still alive or not, but the screaming from upstairs has stopped and he’s almost out of air. He’s gotta get out of here, and he’s taking Frank with him.

He can hear the sirens of the fire trucks coming as he sits up lifting his fallen partner onto his back. They’ll be here in just a minute, but he can’t wait for them. He tries to stand and topples over, off balance. The air is knocked out of him and he takes a breath. He’s not going to die here; Frank isn’t going to burn in this house.

Bracing himself on the wall he just fell into, he lifts Frank onto his back. As he tries to stand again he feels like he must be blessed by a higher power. His hip hit the doorknob. He’s at the front door.

Using his coat over his hand he turns the knob, and starts to pull as hard as he can. He drops Frank on his back and falls on top of him on the front porch. He can breathe. He takes a few breaths lying on the porch, thankful to be alive, and then realizes his coat is on fire.

With every ounce of energy left in him he pulls himself to his feet, throwing the coat inside the open doorway, and starts to drag Frank by his arms down off the porch.

Emergency workers meet him as he gets to the driveway and take both him and Frank in their arms. He turns to face the street and a crowd that is now screaming and cheering for him.

For just a moment he’s glad that the kids are there with the camera phones. They’ll upload this video and he’ll be able to rub it in Frank’s face that not only was he right, he had to save him himself.

They load Frank into an ambulance and try to do the same for Lewis. He refuses to take the ride. This is his crime scene, and he’s not leaving it until he knows more about what happened here. He requests an arson investigator be called, and he’s told there’s already one assigned. If he has it his way it’ll be the same guy who was on it last time. This looks like what Calvin tried before, and he wants to connect the two fires if there’s any evidence to support it.

It takes the fire crew almost two hours to get the fire out. There are several tense moments when things in the house explode, and Lewis is completely in awe when the third floor collapses down into the lower part of the house. The devastation here is massive.

Lewis is sitting, stained head to toe with black soot, with burned clothes and hair, on the hood of his car and he just can’t walk away. He knew they’d come for her. He’d warned Frank. He just hadn’t expected anything like this.

When they finally find a body in the house the gravity of it really hits him. That could have been Frank. I could have been him. He has to go home.

A black cat rubs against his leg as he stands. He looks down at it and says “Don’t play with matches,” as he points to the smoldering remains of what was the Jefferson House.

Leslie waits until she sees the unmarked car pull away, from where she’s crouched hidden in the backyard near the hedge line, before she moves. She runs down the back of the property to the rear of the garage where Frank parks his motorcycle. She walks it quietly into the alley behind the property and starts it up. She has to get to V’s place and let her know what happened.

***

When I hear the motorcycle pull up I assume it’s Frank coming to give me an update on the house and the girls. I look out the window and see Leslie on Frank’s bike and I know something’s gone wrong.

She bursts in the door and I can smell the smoke on her, even after her ride. This is an even worse sign.

Jules comes into the room and Leslie looks at him anxiously. She wants badly to tell me what’s going on but she’s not sure if she should speak in front of the guy she doesn’t know. They’re loyal to a fault, my girls.

“He’s okay. Tell me what’s going on.”

She practically erupts from the mouth. “The Jefferson House is gone. Burned completely down. I went there to give Frank and Julie updates from the hospital, and to find out how things where there, because we were all curious, ya know? When I got there though, I came in the back door and saw Julie shoot Frank.”

“Wait!” This is a lot for me to process and she’s talking at chipmunk speed, so I open her memories and start to watch them as she explains. “Did you say Julie shot Frank?”

“Yes! I saw her do it or I’d never have believed it. She shot him and she said she was sorry, then she started dousing the whole place with gasoline or something. I was still trying to figure out a way to get Frank out of there to the hospital or a doctor or something when I saw her with matches and it finally occurred to me, she’s gonna burn the whole place down.”

She pauses for a breath but her memories are still racing through my mind. My God! How could this happen?

She’s only silent a moment before she lets loose again. “I pulled out the pistol Frank makes me carry but by the time I got the safety off it was too late! Everything was on fire, especially Julie. I heard sirens pulling up outside, but she was still standing over Frank. I didn’t know what she was going to do next so I shot her. She was on fire head to toe and she still tried to shoot me back. It was probably the scariest thing I’ve ever had happen to me in my life.

“Like she didn’t fall.” She stresses the point. “She just tried to shoot me. She only got one round off before her gun exploded in her hands and she ran screaming upstairs. Everything was on fire and I couldn’t get to Frank, or even see him anymore, so I ran and hid. She kept on screaming, V. I can still hear her in my head.”

She burst into tears. “I’m so sorry, V. I should have…”

I cut her off as I put her head on my shoulder. “You did what you could do. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

I hold her and stroke her hair as she cries, gently swaying back and forth, rocking her. As I’m doing this, I can feel part of my mind shutting down, turning off.

I can feel myself becoming more mechanical.

When I finally let go of her I feel next to nothing. I walk her into my bedroom and take out the fifteen grand in cash I keep on hand for emergencies. I give it to her and tell her to put up the girls not in the hospital under assumed names at a hotel across the river. I also tell her not tell any of them what happened just yet. I want to do that myself.

She shakes her head and buries her face in my shoulder again. I stand there with her for a few moments, then I pull back. I can tell she needs more attention, but I just can’t give it to her. Right now, time is of the essence.

Once she’s left the house, I look at Jules. I know it was him who went in and shut off my emotions like they were switches. He’s trying to comfort me in the best way he knows how, but it’s just making me painfully hollow. I am not coping well.

He takes my hand in his and looks into me. “You will continue forward. You will make me proud. You will not let whatever is thrashing against you succeed in stopping you. You will avenge those you care for.”

He’s right.

“I think we need to go to the hospital.” He’s agreed with me before I speak the words.

We walk out to the driveway and get in the Charger. As I pull out I still have hope that Frank and Julie are alive.

CHAPTER 20

MERCY HOSPITAL IS AN IMPOSING eight story structure designed in the early 70’s to, apparently, resemble a tombstone. It overlooks the interstate on the edge of the suburb of Twin Pines. Lately I’ve had far too many people I care about here. One is too many, I have six. But Frank being here I not only don’t like, I can’t stand.

The room smells. I’m sure I’d notice that if I was still alive, but it’s far more pronounced now than it should be. It’s not as bad as the places I’ve been to with Paco, but it’s just as disgusting in its own way. Beyond the odor it’s also small, cold, and uncomfortable. But I think I’m being nitpicky subconsciously, due to my desire to be anywhere else but here, with a healthy Frank by my side.

The brightness of the stark eggshell walls, even in the dim light of his room, is overpowering. I know deep down that this sterile environment is what he needs to live, but lying motionless in that bed with tubes and wires and machines making him breathe, I can’t help but think that this way of living is not living at all for someone as beautiful as him. I stand watch over him lying there, and wish it could have been me to take the suffering and wounds, not him.

The room is somber and quiet as Piper, Jules and I all look intently at our friend as he struggles to keep his life. Inappropriate as always, a thought occurs to me and I laugh a little prompting Piper, thinking I’m crying, to ask if she can do anything for me.

“No, Pi, I just had a thought. This is a Catholic hospital and I’m pretty sure Frank’s agnostic.” I don’t even take note of the shocked look on her face, I just keep going. “Or atheist, I’m not sure. Maybe if he makes it through this he’ll ‘believe.’”

Jules also ignores Piper’s reaction to my choice of conversation. “I seem to remember there being another hospital here in town. It’s not Catholic, is it?”

“Yeah, it’s a great place to send people you don’t care about.” I’m doing all I can with Jules’ help to bury my sadness and stay cold. I love Frank too much to lose him like this, but I’m going to lose more people I love if I give in to my guilt and sadness.

The nurse comes in to check on him. She looks over the machines, makes some notes, and then decides to speak to us. “I’m sorry, but visiting hours are over for the day, but you’re welcome to come back tomorrow.”

“Someone is going to stay with him.” It’s only a statement, nothing more, but my tone makes her jump.

“No, I’m sorry…” She falters and stops as she reads over his chart. “All right, that’s fine. I’m sorry.”

Jules leans over and whispers in my ear what I didn’t want to know. “They don’t expect him to make it through the night. They have him comfortably sedated and are waiting for the end.”

I keep my voice low, but I’m a little hysterical. “I can’t do it. I can’t stand in this room and watch him die. I can’t. I’m doing everything I can to not let this effect me, and I know you’re trying to help, but I have to go right now. I have to walk around for a minute. I can’t just stare at him fading away.”

I walk out of the room and down to the end of the hall. The window here looks out over the interstate so I watch vacantly as the traffic goes by, crushing myself with guilt. I‘m coming apart, unraveling. One minute I’m ice cold and ready to go get my vengeance, the next I feel like everyone would be better off if I were dead, and then I’m cracking jokes. I’m sure my therapist would write me another prescription for this, but I’d have to down the whole bottle to level me out right now.

I walk to the waiting room and find myself a chair. Before I can sit down though a hand grabs may arm and spins me around.

It’s Lewis. He’s bandaged on his hands and up his right arm from burns. He looks almost as bad as I feel. This is hard for him. I would never deny that or the depth of his feelings for Frank after the years they spent together. He’s fuming pissed though, he blames me more than I do, and this is not going to go well.

“I can’t believe you’d have the nerve to show your face here. But I guess you just do whatever you want, whenever you want, no matter what, huh? You don’t care who you step on or who you break?” He’s so upset that he’s spitting at me while he’s yelling.

I look around at all the other people in the waiting room before I reply. “Do you really think this is the most appropriate place to have this discussion?”

“You’re the reason he’s in that bed, you bitch! You’re like rat poison for the soul to all the people you come in contact with. Maybe you should do the world a favor, and let the hit men after you do their job. But that’ll have to wait, because right now I got news for you, you spoiled brat. I’m done. Veronica Fischer, you are under arrest…” He trails off and falls backward onto the sofa.

“I couldn’t take any more of that. His melodramatic histrionics were beginning to drone.” Jules says it with such distain that I can’t help but love him, even if I did half-heartedly agree with Lewis.

I didn’t even notice him walk up behind me.

“You didn’t…I mean…” I’m a little worried, for Frank’s sake if nothing else.

“Kill him? No. He’ll wake up with a sharp headache in a few hours and wonder what happened. If he bothers to be examined they’ll tell him that it’s high blood pressure, likely due to job related stress.” He looks around at the people coming and going nearby before continuing more softly. “We need to talk somewhere privately. I think I have a plan.”

Jules and I get on the elevator and stand next to each other. When the door closes I turn to look at him and he raises an eyebrow quizzically before speaking.

“I’ve had some time to reflect on your situation, even with these most recent twists, and I think I see the pattern you’ve missed.”

My curiosity is piqued. “I don’t doubt that I’m too close to the situation and too emotional to see clearly. What’s your plan?”

“I’ve been remembering your encounters with Paco, and I believe you should call and set up a meeting with him, without mentioning I’m in town. Let him know that things have gone from bad to worse, and with the Council against you there’s nowhere else you can turn. You need his help. If he agrees to meet with you, and I’m almost certain he will, you should agree to whatever he asks of you, whatever terms he puts forth.”

I don’t say a word. I don’t have to. He knows that I think he’s completely lost his mind.

“I’ll be there to save you if it comes to that, I won’t let you get hurt, but I have a feeling this move will take us to checkmate and get all your pieces back. You see, I believe that Frank was right and Paco has been setting you up. I think a lot of this could have been avoided if you had trusted his instincts. I know from your memories of him that you’re aware his hunches aren’t wrong often.”

He’s right. I know to trust and listen to Frank more than I have been. I started reacting to things as they were happening, not stepping back to see the bigger picture, and not trusting in the assets I know I have.

“I just want to go on record here that I’m hesitant to put myself in Paco’s hands. But I trust you, I’ve never seen one of your plans fail utterly, and you’ve never let me get hurt. Besides, anything is better than sitting here doing nothing.” I let out a deep sigh and dig into my purse for my phone. I hope he realizes that I take being molested -- outside of a paying arrangement -- as harm to my person, and he said he wouldn’t let me get hurt.

When the doors open we’re in the lobby, looking at Leslie who was waiting on an elevator going up.

She says that short of the girls who are in here, everyone else is accounted for and at the hotel. When she left them they were swimming in the pool and trying to turn this into a vacation.

I ask if she’d mind relieving Piper. I want someone in Frank’s room around the clock so if anything happens I’ll know as soon as it does.

She seems to be okay with that and gets on the elevator. Jules follows her, and tells me to make my phone call.

I really don’t want to make this call, but I’m gonna be a soldier and follow the plan.

I press the button to dial and it doesn’t get all the way through one ring when he answers.

His acidic voice sounds only too happy to hear from me.

I stick to my script. I tell him that things have gotten bad, the house burned and now Julie is dead and Frank is in the hospital. I let out some of the tears I’ve been holding back and ham it up. I pretend that Learner not liking me is really a bother to me, and that because of him the Council stands against me. I have no one to turn to, I need him, he’s is my only hope.

I don’t think I’m doing a good job selling this because there’s no way I’d have ever said any of this without coaching. But I guess I missed my calling, I might have won Oscars, because this thick zombie is eating it up.

He tells me how he knew I would be calling, and that I was wise to finally do what was in my best interest. I fight the urge to ask him if he’s stoned, and instead ask him where he’d like to meet.

“The usual place, tomorrow night. It’s almost dawn and I wouldn’t want you to burn up,” he says. That’s great.

I tell him I’ll be there and hang up. I really could kick Jules right now, but he was right about everything so far. Now I just have to make sure my girls and Frank are secure and that Jules is gonna get me out if things go wrong and I’m on my way.

What have I gotten myself into?

CHAPTER 21

I AM COMPLETELY UNPREPARED for this. At this point I don’t even know if I’ll be alive tomorrow. The thin wispy fog that’s rolled up from the river into the low lying areas like this one makes even the most well lit parts of the treatment plant seem like a dream. A nightmare, really.

I can see as I pull through the open gate that Paco’s van is here, but so are several other cars. A Jaguar and a Mercedes definitely stand out in the fenced-in lot. Way to be inconspicuous guys.

When I woke up I had Jules take me to get the old beater pickup we use to move furniture and equipment between houses. There was absolutely no way I was going to go alone to meet with Paco in a car I cared about.

Slogging my way through the mud, I make my way slowly over to the overflow tunnels and start to head down. I’m actually adjusting to the rancid smell that hits me as I enter.

At the bottom of the steps I’m back in the large open space where all of these tunnels converge, a sort of cathedral to all the filth that gets washed down the drains, off the streets, and out of the public places of the living. The ceiling is over fifteen feet up from the groove in the center of the floor I’m standing in. I’m a bit overwhelmed by the enormity of this place, where the dead and rotting things are washed away to.

I only get a few paces out from the steps I came down before I see him, and he’s not alone. He’s on a platform that overlooks most of the chamber I’m standing in. Cables have been slung haphazardly up and around the support beams to provide power for the lights dangling down over the table they’re sitting at. There’re probably half a dozen of them there with him and a few of them are far too well-dressed to be in a place like this. They’re intensely focused on their conversation but the echo in here is keeping me from making out what they’re saying. No matter what the reason is, it’s still strange to see him with people like that.

He sees me and stands, calling a halt to the conversation and bringing all their eyes on me. I could swear I recognize a few of them, but I just can’t place from where. He’s down the ladder in moments and moving quickly in my direction, though I really wish he wasn’t, trying to make his loose fitting skin contort into a smile.

The rotting mass is bolder than ever, taking me physically in his arms and rubbing on me as a greeting. I don’t want to think about what the liquid was that I feel running down my leg as he squeezes me tightly. I’m nearly at my breaking point with this when he finally lets me down to stand in front of him.

“Hello, pet. I heard your hunting dog got shot. Has he been put down yet?” And I almost ruin the plan by taking his head off right there.

“You’re not talking about Frank, are you?”

“I forget sometimes that you still attach undue value to the living, I apologize.” The word falls out of his mouth like he’s allergic to it.

I look up at the men sitting at the table above us, and then lower my eyes back to him, leaning forward slightly before continuing our conversation. I never thought about there being an audience for this.

“You said you’d meet with me because I needed help. I’ve had a lot of things happening lately. Like my life is coming apart. How much of what’s happened do you know?” I put a pouting lilt in my voice as I look up at him.

“I know that you’re not safe here. You haven’t been safe for quite some time now. Many forces have risen against you on all sides.” He tries to sound concerned for my well being, like we haven’t met before.

Taking my hand and practically dragging me with him we walk further down into the tunnels. I never realized how big these tunnels actually are.

“You’re problem, pet, is that you are without a place. You are an orphan to your own kind and they distrust and shun you, but the living have no place for you either, and the spirits, well they can’t exist in your world or you in theirs for very long. You need to belong.” Now he’s starting to turn on the snake oil charm; shame for him I already know not to believe him.

“They’ve never appreciated you like I could. Never looked at you like I do.” I nod my head at him, looking thoughtful and sad.

“You’re right. No matter how hard I try, I can’t ever find a way to keep a balance. It’s like I’m straddling the cracks between worlds. And no one thinks I’ve done enough.”

“You should consider belonging to me or relocating to somewhere less hostile. Pekin isn’t going to be safe for you if you aren’t my property.” He’s pressing harder now. It’s a veiled threat, but it’s getting harder and harder to stick with the plan and agree with him.

We stop walking at a crack in the tunnel wall where someone has dug back into the dirt behind it. He pushes me in then follows me. There’s a whole room hollowed out in here and once he’s lit the torches I’m a little freaked out. He has all sorts of jars and containers lining the walls and piles of molded ancient books. It really looks like something out of the medieval fantasies of a basement dwelling thirty-something slacker.

I don’t know if Jules realized all this when he sent me here.

“What about Jacobi and the Council? They might have a problem with me agreeing to be your property. You aren’t one of us, and Jacobi forbids our kind to be property. Even to each other. It would be against their laws.” My tone is sweet, but questioning.

“Oh, didn’t you know? Jacobi is dead.” He pulls me close to his face and does his best to show me the monster he can be, growling at me. “I had him killed. Your warning to him about the massing spirits fell on deaf ears, thankfully. You see, I needed the blood of one your kind. Specifically, it needed to be as old as possible. I have a ritual that I must perform to bring my plans to fruition and ultimately, my survival is far more valuable to me than his life, even if he was kinder to me than so many other blood drinking egomaniacs I’ve had to deal with.” He’s handling me like a stuffed animal. Gone is all pretense of nicety.

He’s admitted to killing the Eldest of the Council. I can have them all after him now. I guess this is what Jules meant, and why he wanted me to go along with him. How else would I have found out?

“When Learner finds out you killed Jacobi he’ll bring a war to your doorstep.”

“Learner is too stupid to be a threat, and already dead, for all practical intents and purposes.” I hate to admit it, but I have to agree with him on this one, out of principle if nothing else.

“That’s just another reason why you are better off as mine. Learner trusts the help I’m giving him as we look into his uncle’s disappearance. I suggested at our first meeting that you might be involved. He took to that idea instantly and now you are his only suspect. As far as he’s concerned he just has to uncover the evidence to take to his Council and your life is over.”

“You set me up with Learner? Why would that make me feel safer with you?”

“Because it’s yet another way I can protect you now. Once I provide Learner with evidence that you were not involved in Jacobi’s disappearance he’ll want you dead, disposed of quietly. He’ll do it, if for no other reason than his desire to keep you from telling the Council how he wrongfully accused you, and risk losing face. At that point he’ll agree to my owning you in a heartbeat. No matter what his uncle said about such things.”

It’s starting to become clear that he’s had this ‘owning me’ thing in his head for a while now. Why I didn’t listen to Frank earlier is beyond me, making me want to kick myself.

He picks up a wooden crate and sits it on the table next to me, leering at me.

“If you tell Learner that I’m not involved in Jacobi’s death, he’s going to want to know who was. You’re going to have to give him something.”

“I’ve already prepared for that, pet. I’ll tell him that I’ve discovered it was actually the spirits, like your Lucy, who moved against his precious blood drinking families, and that they have slain his uncle. I’ll have Lucy admit it to him herself. After that he’ll help me in any way he can to destroy them. Better still he’ll assure me the aid of his precious Council. That will be the death of them all.”

He opens the box and takes out a massive iron ring, a collar covered in runes and carvings. I’ve seen it before, or one just like it, on Lucy’s neck in that cage at the funeral home. Does that mean he’s behind Lucy being held by those things as well?

“I only kept him alive this long to keep you busy and to try to get rid of that other nocturnal nuisance that showed up in town pushing my spirits around. Thankfully you brought him to me and let me trap him.” He sits the thick iron restraint down on top of the box and smiles.

“The charm you gave Garret…”

“Was fake? Didn’t work?” His eyes are almost glowing with joy telling me this. “That’s right. You took him to my prison for me, and left him there to die. I do have to thank you for that. It’s just another good example of the work we could do together if you were mine.”

There’s no way he would be this bold if he thought I had any chance of walking out of here. I don’t know the aces up his sleeve, but they have to be there. Jules said to agree to whatever he asks of me, but that is getting harder to consider doing than it was before.

“Now he’s sitting in a cold iron cage, next to your Lucy, and that darling little Rachel.” He licks his lips suggestively. “She tastes so sweet, that one. Her purity and fear.”

He giggles, the titter of a child. I’m going to kill him. If not for Jules, it would be right now. But I know that I can’t keep holding myself back. There is a limit, and when it’s reached I’m just going to explode, but for now I have to keep up the act.

“You can protect me from the Council and the spirits then?”

“Of course I can.” He strokes my hair and his rotting skin brushes my face.

“Can I… Can I see them again? Lucy, Garrett, and Rachel, I mean? If I am yours, and you’re protecting me, can I have them with me?” My voice is trembling, meek and timid.

He reacts receptively to the weakness that I’m showing him, arrogantly strutting around the room. He wants to feel strong; this weaselly toad is trying to make me feel more fragile than I’ve actually been.

“I can let you see them. I might even let you pet them and take them for walks. If you are mine, your life will be much easier.” I knew he was sick, but he’s completely insane, turns out.

“Would you kill someone for me? To keep me safe?”

He sneers at the question as he pushes me into a chair. He wants to stand over me and gloat. “I wouldn’t have to kill anyone to keep you safe. No one could touch you in my care.”

“There’s a man who has set me up, gotten warrants for my arrest, and even hired hit men to kill me. His name is Molder.” As soon as I say it my mind spins. I know what he’s going to say before he says it and I feel like a fool.

He cackles and points around the room. “Molder? Decay? Rot? You have nothing to fear from Mr. Molder. If you are mine, you are his as well.”

“The last six months or more of nightmares for me and everyone I care about have all been brought on by you?”

Now he’s so overjoyed he’s dancing around the room, dropping maggots and chucks of flesh as he goes. He steps briefly out into the tunnel and motions someone to come, before stepping back in front of me.

“In a manner of speaking, yes. I killed Hocker and Moran and framed you for their deaths, because I knew a warrant for your arrest would slow you down.”

Two of the men from the table step into the room, and look at Paco for instruction. Now I know who they are. Geoff Peters and Jerry Atkins, the two local politicians that were clients of mine. The ones who set me up to drive me out of Pekin.

“My spirits,” he points at Peters and Atkins, “like riding around in their bodies. They’re well connected and live luxurious lives. All they’ve had to do is enjoy themselves and help in your prosecution.”

He dismisses them with a wave of his hand and then leans in close, right in my face. “Yes, the hit out on you, two hundred thousand dollars, that was me too.”

I reach out and slide my hands down his legs as I look up at him with wide eyes.

“I thought you said you wanted to protect me, and for me to be yours. Why would you try to kill me?”

He takes the bait, but a bit more forcefully than I’d expected. He licks my face and then runs his hands through my hair grabbing handfuls of it to pull me back in my seat, forcing me to look up at him as he stands.

“It was never my intent to kill you. I simply had to keep you off balance. Keep you struggling, moving in too many directions at once. I had to break you down. If you had been given time to focus, you might have seen what I was doing. I couldn’t have that, now could I? I never wanted you dead though, you must believe that. If you were dead, then how could I own you? How could I make you my slave?”

I think he interprets my dumbfounded expression as fear of him. I can’t believe all the effort this asshole has gone to, and all the people he’s hurt, to just have me as a slave. I try to shake my mind free enough to make words, but it doesn’t work. Then he breaks the silence for me.

“I’ve been busy setting you up, but I’ve been busier preparing for more dangerous times ahead. You will be safe with me, and see your loved ones again. You can become my property and live, or you can die like the rest of the bloodsuckers when I fully attain the power of the restless dead in our world. I am about to wield more power than you can imagine, pet. And you can sit at my side. In this.”

He holds the collar out in front of me, and I get a sinking feeling, knowing he’s going to ask me to put it on, and I have to agree to whatever he wants.

“This will relieve you of your ability to act in any way I don’t abide. You will follow my orders. You will live, but you will live to serve me. Then I can trust and protect you.”

I glance down at the floor for a moment considering what Jules said. Would it cover this? He said to agree to whatever terms he put forth. I don’t see that I have a choice. I look back up into Paco’s dead eyes.

“Okay. You win. I’ll serve you. If you’ll let me see the people I love, and keep me safe, then you can put that thing on me.” The defeat in my voice is genuine.

“No.”

I blink a few times, at a complete loss.

“No? But, I thought that’s what you wanted. For me to…”

He puts his hands on my lips, stopping me from talking, and then puts my hands on the collar.

“No, I won’t put it on you and make you my slave. I’d much rather see you put it on yourself, and give yourself to me.” The vile disgusting creature knew how to make anything that was already horrible even worse.

As I take the collar and put it around my neck, the only thing I can think is, ‘Jules, you said you’d save me. I seriously hope you stick to that.’

The lock on the collar clicks into place and I can feel my mind, my will, even my emotions being locked inside myself. I can see out, but I have no control.

CHAPTER 22

NOTHING WOULD PLEASE ME MORE at this moment than to know I would never have to see the Sikes Funeral Home again. I have absolutely no love for this place, and with the knowledge that Paco is calling the shots here, my feelings for it have gotten a little worse.

I’m walking up the sidewalk, being led by one of his spirits riding around in the body of some poor soul they’ve destroyed, to the building, because I was told to and I’m just a passenger in my body now.

The shadows that would have made me nervous before are now opening the door for me. I can’t help but wonder if Jules knew what he was doing or if this was seriously the biggest mistake of my life.

Paco lets out an almost girly squeal of excitement as I’m walked into the room, clothes in tatters and falling off me, being led by a leash attached to the thick, cold iron collar.

“Oh it’s so nice to see you like this, Veronica.” Liquid escapes his mouth as his words spill forth with equal parts lust and glee. “Why don’t you come over here and see me?”

I have no intention of doing that, but my body reacts anyway, a willing puppet to the whims of this disgusting pile of rot. I only get one step forward before he raises his hand, motioning me to stop.

“On your knees, my lovely little bitch slave. Crawl to me.” He cackles as my body does what it’s told, despite my only thought being holding his throat in my closed fist. He pours on the salt by adding “I’m glad to see you’ve finally learned how to show the proper respect to your betters.”

Oh my God, dead. He’s just dead. That’s it. Like really real, no coming back from it, dumped through a wood chipper and fed to pigs in three non-adjoining states dead. I just have to get my hands on him. Well, first I have to get control of my hands back. Then he’s dead.

“Are you humiliated, my little bitch slave?”

I will not give him the pleasure of an answer to that. My body, however, decides to do it for me. I hear my voice escape me, “No, master. My only will is to serve your desires. Nothing else matters.”

I’m beginning to wonder if death isn’t a better option than being a prisoner in your own skin, doing and saying things that are worse than any torture.

Paco takes the leash and leads me, on my knees, into the back of the funeral home, where it looks like he’s preparing for another of his rituals. He strokes my hair like a dog and then tells me to stand.

“I believe I told you that you could see your loved ones.” His voice still has that insufferable mocking tone of glee. “I suppose that it really is the least I can do. I don’t think some of them will live much longer.”

He raises his hand and the room gets darker. The moving shadows gain definition and I can see the glow of their burning eyes. I don’t know what it did but it’s making my skin crawl.

There must be some sort of shared unspoken communication with the spirits he commands because they leave the room and return in no short order with Rachel, Lucy, Garrett, and Julie. I hadn’t even considered that he might have her soul as well.

They all look drained and all but Garrett wear collars that match mine. Garrett instead is heavily bound in chains and is walking as much as he’s being dragged.

I want to run to them. I want to hold them and tell them everything will be just fine, that we’re going to get out of this somehow, but my body doesn’t react. It’s still under his sole control.

He really is breaking me. He must know the effect that this has on me, because he’s looking at me like he won the lottery. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on before I go completely mad.

Out of the corner of my eye I see a cat slink into the room, black, lithe, and silent. It makes its way over to me slowly and begins to rub against my leg for attention.

This can’t be the same cat. It freaks me out a little that I think it might be. I think back on all the times I’ve seen it, miles apart, and in places it really shouldn’t be. I’m at a point where nothing would surprise me anymore, though. Maybe the rotting bastard has been using the damned thing as some kind of spy.

I’m jarred from my musings by Paco’s attempt to appeal to me.

“I know you think I’m insufferably evil, Veronica dear, but you must know that I am just a simple selfish man. I see the evidence of what is coming. Likely more than your Lucy, who I know warned you about it. There is a coming storm, and I intend to build up my assets and weather it. I will come out on top if I can.”

He looks at me and for a moment I think he’s trying to raise his eyebrows for effect, but it’s hard to tell with that face.

“Something larger than all of us is in play, my pet, and I will be ready for it. Something never seen before in this world, but a great evil that was foretold. It‘s already been born into our world, and its power is growing. Its effects are felt by everyone, even the living. Most just have no clue what it is they are feeling. I know. I know its power. I will be strong enough to be a worthy servant to it, or powerful enough to enslave it; either way I will survive. You should rejoice, because as my slave you will survive as well.”

Paco looks again at the black creatures in the room and two of them take Rachel and leave, with her crying and screaming. My heart aches to watch it. Death might be too good for Paco; I might have to see how long I can torture him before he dies.

“I’d let you spend more time with her, but she has to be prepared for her part as the sacrifice. You see I had Julie, with one of my servants in her, go back to your Jefferson House and retrieve Rachel’s body before she set fire to it.”

I can see the pain in her eyes. I can feel it.

“Sending my spirits to kill her was easy enough, but then tracking down what happened to her spirit, that proved a bit more difficult. You can imagine my joy at finding she was with you. It made everything so convenient. Even if you did make me play hide and seek with her body.”

He opens the box that contains her remains and places her corpse in the circle of bones he’s arranged on the floor.

“My favorite part about working out of a funeral home is that there’s no shortage of freshly dead spirits to feed my unquiet minions. But even in the freshly dead, whose bodies are here and easily accessible, it’s a rare thing to find a truly pure and innocent soul, a soul like Rachel’s.”

His smile, with the broken jagged teeth and the rotted flesh hanging at odd angles is grotesque. Since he’s had me as his slave I’ve seen far too much of it. I can only look forward to removing it permanently as soon as I have use of my body again. Julie feels the same way.

Then I realize I can feel her. I can feel Lucy and Garrett too. Paco’s collar hasn’t changed that. Now I have to wonder if I can use this to communicate with them.

“It’s going to be painful for her, poor girl. I’m going to force her innocent little soul back into her corpse, and make it live again. Like me.”

Just the idea of him doing that to anyone makes me ill, but doing it to Rachel? I want to scream ‘not her.’ I want to force him not to, or beg him not to. Anything to spare her that.

“Once I have her back all bodied up, then I can kill her. Sacrifice her to double my energy, my power. It’s gonna be great. And fun too.”

His minions take Lucy, Julie and Garrett back to the room I came in through, as Paco sets bottles and other small containers from a bag to the table top for ease of access. He’s lost for a few minutes readying his magical provisions and I expand my mind as far as I can in this place. I can tell that his minions only took Julie into the next room and left her there with the others. Baby steps, I guess.

When he’s finished his task he picks up my leash and leads me into the next room as well, but it’s lighter in here, and even though I know they’re in here, I can’t feel them.

“It’ll take a while for them to fully strip down Rachel’s soul for the ritual. A lot of pain, suffering, torture, you know the stuff don’t you? You told me once you were good at that kind of thing.”

He’s right. I am good at it. I plan on showing him exactly how good, as soon as I can.

CHAPTER 23

THE CALM NIGHT AIR OUTSIDE the Sikes Funeral Home starts to turn breezy. Only a few small gusts at first, then stronger ones. It builds in mere moments, more and more violently, whipping and howling around the façade. Windows rattle, and the building groans against the sudden gale.

There’s a brief flash of lightning followed by the deep low growl of thunder; like some massive creature dragging itself across the landscape.

The wooden double doors tremble then shake slightly. Once, then twice. A final vicious shudder and they are simply gone, replaced by a shower of glass, metal, and wood debris.

The delicate twelve-year old form of a girl in a plaid skirt and tied up white shirt comes into focus in the hole where the entrance had been. Her dark red-black pigtails bounce slightly as her oversized tanker boots crunch into the clutter.

She walks down the hall and stops in front of the door to the main parlor. She looks back and gets a nod from her team that stands ready just outside the gaping hole in the front of the building.

She raises her hand and smiles wickedly as another door shatters in front of her, blowing pieces of wood and metal everywhere.

***

“I believe you have something that belongs to me!” The little girl announces in her most sickly-sweet feminine voice, as she steps into the parlor with a few dozen men in black tactical armor and riot gear filing in behind her. “And I want him back!”

The air is thick, humid, and still. The schoolgirl and her assault team stand motionless as countless shadows swirl in around their master. Paco slowly turns to face the intruders as dozens of metallic clinks advise that weapons are ready to fire. “Do you seriously think bullets mean anything to me, child?” he sneers at her with confidence and contempt. “I’m well beyond any danger those things could pose.”

She can’t help a slight grin as she tosses her head to one side. Her chiding voice is an overdose of saccharine. “Do I look slow to you? You really think I’d come knocking on your door if I wasn’t ready to throw down? They’re spectrally cursed rounds, you arrogant fuck-bag.”

He has only a second to process what she’s said and grow slightly wide-eyed before the muzzle flashes begin. Instantly the room is awash with the screams of spirits in torment. She leaps toward me, her wiry frame tackling me to the floor.

Paco’s jaw distends releasing an inhuman scream as he rips the flesh from his hands. The rotting undead sorcerer points boney fingers at those who dared intrude as dark energies surge from him, flash-decaying those foolish enough not to dive for cover.

The child’s small hands strain against the collar, that holds me docile and in place, with more force than the Jaws of Life. Finally it snaps, releasing energy like a bomb, knocking her and I both back several feet. Then it all becomes real. Like suddenly realizing you are actually inside the movie you’re watching, knowing that you can affect your surroundings.

She shoves a pistol and a pair of goggles at me from her backpack. “I’m Sunny, Garrett’s kid. I don’t have time to deal with you right now. Put these on, they let you see the spirit world. Use the gun. Shoot the shackles off Garrett and the others. And hurry, we don’t have much time.”

As I slide the goggles down over my eyes the last thing I see is Sunny launching herself onto Paco, screaming and firing a pistol.

I’m not prepared for the limited vision the goggles allow. What I can see is all too familiar, the spirits, allies and enemies, but nothing else. I can’t see the real world with them on. I try to run to Garrett and the others only to fall flat on my face tripping over something I couldn’t see. There’s nothing like a good broken nose to make any night better though, so I grit my teeth and decide to crawl the remaining fifteen feet to free those I care for.

I can hear the screams and the gunfire in the real world, and see the spirit warriors around me reacting to the bullets, but I’m trying to remain focused only on the task at hand. Aiming and firing, I’m impressed by the power of the weapon she gave me. It has a hell of a kick, but it pops the chains holding Garrett’s shackles with just one shot.

I slowly repeat the process for Lucy and Julie, taking time to aim carefully. I don’t want to remove part of them. Once I’m finished, I lift the goggles to see the world around me.

Paco is unconscious on the floor, but Sunny is being batted around in the air like I was at the hands of these shadow monsters. She’s got some kind of blue glowing energy around her that’s keeping them from doing any serious damage to her, but it seems to be taking all her concentration just to keep up with the raw amount of force they are hitting her with.

Her team, out of ammo, are mostly dead now, their ripped and broken bodies littering the floor. A few dozen more shadows are rushing into the room from below, and as though that weren’t bad enough the sun is coming up soon; I can feel it. There’s no way she and I are going to get back out of here.

“Lucy, get them to Jules!” I yell just before being knocked backward by a dark transparent fist.

Lucy takes off dragging Garrett and Julie and I put my hand up to the goggles on my head. One lens is broken, but the other is intact. I’ve got them and whatever’s left in this pistol. I guess I can still do something productive.

I set my sights on Paco. He’s not moving, and I’m pretty sure I can kill him here and now with what I have left. Out of the corner of my eye I can see the reinforcements that arrived splitting up to pursue Lucy and my friends, and attack Sunny and I.

Now comes the choice. I can kill the creature responsible for this, or I can try to make sure that those I care about get away and buy Sunny and I some more time.

These are the moments where I really wish someone else could tell me the right thing to do. My vengeance on Paco would be sweet, but I can’t let everyone else die with him.

Taking aim I squeeze the trigger and grin, as one of those black things’ head explodes in a shower of what looks like burning embers. With its head gone its body dissipates. I like these rounds.

They drop Sunny and let Lucy get the others out as they begin to encircle me. They may be a little primitive, but they know I can’t kill them all. This is going to hurt, and I may well regret it.

I grab Sunny and pull her toward the door. She’s shaken up from being beaten around like a cat toy, but she’s regaining her focus.

“The sun is coming up. I got Lucy to get Garrett out of here, but I’m pretty sure we’re screwed. I don’t know how many shots I’ve got left.”

I’m talking to her, but she’s looking past me over my shoulder. I spin around expecting to get hit from behind and see, through the transparent shadows behind me, Jules in the hallway with Frank. Frank looks like nothing was ever wrong with him. I’m completely stunned to see them both.

Jules leaps forward into the room with a sword and begins cleaving into the shadows. They shriek and draw back away from him.

“Rather than stay here and be screwed, how ‘bout you come with us?” Frank says as he holds his hand out to help me up. “Nice look by the way. Really shows your roots.”

I take his hand and look down at myself. What’s left of my rubber and plastic outfit leave very little to the imagination. I guess I don’t have to worry about cleaning it off after all.

Wading further into the ever darkening room Jules, continues to slice and thrust into the roiling black mass. I never even knew he could use a sword, let alone fight like a samurai warrior. It’s like a seventies kung-fu movie gone wrong.

I help Sunny to her feet and she asks, “These your friends, then?”

“Yeah.” I answer her but I’m beaming at Jules. He said he’d come for me.

“Get moving,” Jules yells at us as he starts backing toward us, another wave of shadows advancing on him. “Before they box us in again!”

We back up into the hallway and as Jules gets closer to us I can’t help but ask, “How does that thing affect them?”

“Serena gave me the sword. It has some kind of blessing on it that lets it do harm to spirits.”

I couldn’t be more pleased at the results he was having with it, but still I couldn’t stifle a laugh at the absurdity of it all. “A sword though? Who uses a sword?”

“Evidently, people who save your life. Hello?” Frank calls back to me, as he and Sunny begin to run for the gaping hole into the parking lot.

We all sprint out into the predawn light with dozens of those shadows on our heels. My Charger is there. Jules must have driven though because it’s parked on the sidewalk.

As we pile into the car it’s being rocked by the ‘unquiet’ bulldozers. They manage to spin the whole car around before Frank can get it started, and drop it into gear.

A thick trail of rubber and a cloud of smoke sit behind us as we finally put some distance between us and that awful place. But we left Rachel. That means that no matter what, I’m going back.

Sunny pipes up, shooting me a dirty look I’m not completely sure I understand. “Head to the Mason’s hall on Seventh. It’s our place.”

She directs us around to the back and opens a large garage door hidden behind some wooden planks.

As we’re pulling in I see Lucy and Julie standing outside. I slide the single lens down over my right eye again and am enraptured to see Garrett with them too.

Sunny waves to them and they walk in as I watch the first rays of the sun sweep across the city as the door closes. I don’t think I’ve had so many close calls so close together in all my life. Jules must be my good luck charm.

“We’ll be safe here for now. Spirits can’t enter here unless I let them,” Sunny says as she gets out of the car. “Is Garrett with them?”

“How do you do that?”

“It’s just something I can do. You accomplish things with your crotch, I do it through sheer force of will. Is Garret with them?” Her voice is sharper than a razor’s edge.

“Yes, he’s with them.”

“That’s good, for your sake.” She walks to the back of the room and opens a door to a staircase. “C’mon down. It’s safer, and we all need some rest.”

CHAPTER 24

MY RIGHT EYE IS IN LOVE. I can see him again. Now if only I could see him with both eyes. Hold him, feel him. We sit opposite each other in the basement of the Mason’s hall with our hands out to each other, but we can’t touch.

His hand passes though mine making my flesh cold and the hairs on my arm stand up. This is torture, to have him safe and with me but be unable to touch him.

I’m tired and I know I should sleep, but he’s here, and I just can’t stop looking at him.

“Look, bitch, you can stare at him all day long but it’s not gonna make him solid again,” Sunny says as she walks into the room.

That little girl needs to watch her mouth. She hates me. She blames me for what ‘I’ve done’ to Garrett.

Her emotions are all over the place, and she’s as easy to read as a breather. I know her thoughts with little more than glancing at her.

“I know that it’s not going to help bring him back to this side, but I just want to be near him. Just back off.” I try not to let any of my venom from the last night seep into my voice. She’s already ready to pop, and I don’t want to hurt her.

“I want to be near him too, I’m not some new whore who’s decided to sink her white trash nails into his exposed flesh. I’ve been with him for years.”

“White trash? Really? Look, neither of us can really be near him while he’s stuck like this, we need to…”

“Stuck like that? Why is it he’s stuck like that? Because he was listening to you, bitch?”

I have had just about enough of her. She’s in pain, I get that. I am too, but I’m done with the attacks and the disrespect.

“Okay, I’m done with this. I can see you have Daddy issues. Believe me, little girl, I get that.” It’s not difficult at all to slide into her mind and force her to sit down while I talk. “But I’m older, and I’ve been at it a lot longer than you, so if you don’t have anything productive to say, shut your mouth. If you have anything you know of that can help the situation, I’m prepared to listen.”

The hate flowing off of her is almost thick enough to have substance. Her glare burns hot enough to light me on fire, but she says nothing.

“Well?”

“I’ve been trying to find a way to fix him. I was actually coming in here to find him, so I could ask him to join me in my room. I wanted to try a couple things that might work. I’m just not used to dealing with the particular brand of magic that this zombie thing is throwing around. It’s gonna take some time to figure out how to work around it.”

Finally, she really speaks. Now I know what I’m dealing with, at least on that front.

“I’ll leave you to it then. If there’s any way I can help, just let me know.”

Her contempt for me swells. She’s insulted that I even think I could be of help to her. That’s a fight that we don’t have time to have, so I just nod and walk out of the room.

The sooner she can get Garrett back to normal, and we can come up with a plan, the better. We have to stop Paco and get Rachel back. Whatever he’s doing now, it centers around him sacrificing her. I can’t let that happen.

Jules and Frank catch me in the hallway and pull me into a room full of storage lockers.

“We need to talk privately.” It’s Jules’ way of telling me that anything else I was doing can wait. Right now, I’m more than okay with that.

Jules and I walk to the back of the room and face each other while Frank darts back and forth around the sides of the room making sure we’re alone and not being eavesdropped upon. He’s never adjusted to the fact that my kind can usually tell if there’s something like that happening.

It’s fun to watch him bouncing around the room though, after having to be anxious over him in the hospital.

Jules clears his throat and motions him over.

“What did you learn from your time with Paco?” Jules asks the question aloud, but I can feel him reviewing the answer in my memories. He’s shuffling quickly through everything that I’ve discovered. He asked for Frank’s sake.

“A lot actually, but I’m sure that’s no surprise for you. He’s the one that’s been behind most of the crap I’ve been drowning in. I learned that I should have listened to Frank. Paco was setting me up all along.”

Frank smiles. “Thank you.”

“Frank, I don’t know why I didn’t listen to you. I’m so sorry. You wouldn’t have gotten shot, and so many other things could have been avoided. You were right.”

He’s should be rubbing it in my face, but he’s not. Jules must have had a talk with him about it first or something.

“Well,” Frank begins. “We have some things we need to fill you in on, that we got accomplished while you were away. But first I think you need this.”

He digs around in the duffle bag he brought in from the car, and pulls out a bottle. I almost break down and cry, realizing that it was one of the last bottles of blood that Julie had preserved for me before she died. Even if she was a ghost now, and not completely lost to me, nothing would ever be the same.

I take a long well needed drink and I can feel my body energize as Frank continues to talk.

“Okay, first, we went and met with Lewis and after the half hour of questions on how I’m all better, we managed to give him enough information, facts with records and witnesses to back it up, that he’s gotten them to drop the warrants on you. The two blackmail victims are taking the fall for all of it on the police end. The murders, the false accusations, the arson, Julie’s murder. The whole pile.”

He holds up a newspaper with the two disgraced politicians’ photos, and the headline “City Leaders Charged In Murder/Blackmail.” I want that framed.

“That’s incredible. Where did you get all the evidence?”

“Don’t worry about things you don’t have to, Veronica, you’ll only cause yourself more trouble in the end.” Jules says it in a light tone, which means that he rearranged people’s memories to what they needed to be. Another reason I’ve missed having him around.

Frank can’t wait to continue, almost falling into me as he gushes.

“We were also able to, with the help of my friend Jay Fontana and the account numbers that Lewis ‘didn’t give us,’ drain all of the operational funds that belonged to Mr. Molder. He’s got some serious people he owes now who really don’t like it when they get stiffed. Teach him to go after my friends.”

“Paco is Molder, Frank. It was a cover that he used to move against me.”

“Even better then.” Laughter rips out of him, even as he puts his hand up to cover his mouth. ”Now Jay has enough cash to expand his business, and more importantly, I’ve already dropped a very large sum to have work started on the getting the house fixed. And, honey, it’s gonna take a lot.”

“Wow. He’s gonna come unhinged.” I almost laugh, but there are those who have given their lives for all this, and Paco needs to pick up the check now.

“By the way, in the trunk, I brought clothes for you. The ones you wear when you go out looking for a fight.”

He’s all smiles and giggles, and I’m more pleased than I thought I could be with where we are and why.

Jules puts on a more serious face now and looks at Frank. This brings a screeching halt to his more jovial update, and I begin to have a feeling of dread, that Frank had the good news, and Jules had the bad.

“I spoke to the Council in your absence, and in your stead. I discussed with them the matter of Paco. Learner was far more receptive to my take on the issues at hand than he was with yours. He has said that Paco’s life is mine to do with as I see fit.”

“But how did you know what all he was doing?”

“I didn’t. I assumed. As it turns out I was right and you kept him distracted so that I could act.” It’s all so matter fact from him.

“What would have happened if you were wrong?”

“If I was that poor a judge of character, and behavior, I doubt I’d have lived this long. You’d have seen this too no doubt, if you hadn’t been so caught up in your emotions for the spirit girl and Garrett.”

He’s right. I love him, more than I sometimes remember, but I hate that he’s never wrong.

“You’ll have to help Frank out a little more in the future. I let Learner know you’d be looking out for him.”

“What do you mean?” Now he’s lost me again. Why would learner care about a breather, let alone one that works for me?

“Well how do you think he got healed so quickly?”

My God, I must have really gotten dense. Why didn’t I see it before?

“Oh, shit! You mean…”

Looking at Frank and I can tell that he really just wants to be bouncing up and down, but he’s trying to stay as reserved as he can in front of Jules.

“You’s my sister now,” he says with a sly grin, showing far too many teeth, and two that are longer than before. “We’s family.”

As excited as I am for Frank, and proud of Jules, I can’t get past my fear for Rachel. I have a smile on. I’m wearing my happy face, but they can both see it.

We all talk a little further about how Frank will be trained, and how Jules plans to take him back to Chicago for a while but I’ll get him back, but when the conversation turns to talk of our impending assault on Paco to get Rachel back they both see my pacing and excuse themselves to take stock of our assets.

That’s a nice way of saying that they think I’m too emotional to be involved in the planning.

For the first time, I think I’m ready to give in a little and agree with them for tonight. For now.

I have got to find a place to lay my head down and get some sleep. It’s been too long since I’ve gotten any rest, and I’m exhausted.

***

Garrett leaves Sunny cursing and throwing things around her little research room. She’s been trying unsuccessfully for a little over two hours to undo what Paco has done. Unfortunately, she has no point of reference and her magic, if you could call it that, isn’t a practiced art like his. Hers is a more like an internal manipulation of the world around her.

She’s failed to bring him across so far, and needs to prepare before trying again. That’s Garrett’s nice way of telling her to stop throwing a tantrum and concentrate on what she needs to do, and how to achieve it.

Everyone here’s on edge now, all too aware that they’ll be facing Paco and his minions in a little over fifteen hours. Tense doesn’t begin to describe the mood throughout the whole of the old lodge, while people try to rest, if they can.

He knows from his studies into the restless dead and their habits that the mood of a place, and the people in it, both have a drastic effect on what that place is like in the spirit world. This is more of a firsthand look at how just how drastic people’s moods can physically affect a spirit than he ever wanted to have.

Lucy and Julie are in the garage discussing the sanctuary nervously when Garret stumbles upon them. It’s tempting to eavesdrop on them, as he’s been so used to doing with spirits over the last hundred years. This is different though, considering his situation, and as much as he’s been through with these two, he feels he owes them more respect than that.

“Hello, ladies. I can assure that none of Paco’s spirits can enter here. We’re safe, for now. Even if the place doesn’t seem so,” he gestures to the dark and ominous overtones of the building, “friendly?”

“You’ll have to excuse me. I don’t think of anywhere that I’m trapped inside of as a friendly place.” Julie says sharply.

He hadn’t considered that Sunny’s barrier to keep spirits out might also trap them inside.

“I can talk to Sunny about that, if you need to go somewhere. I don’t think it’s very safe out there though.”

“Julie is young and recently passed. You’ll have to excuse her lack of patience with the world. It comes with time.” Lucy obviously agrees with her, but doesn’t approve of her approach to the topic.

“Look, I’m sorry if I snapped a little. I don’t want to go anywhere. Veronica’s here and I really want to stay with her. I’m just having a hard time with the whole being dead and not gone thing.”

“I’ve been dead, by way of this disease, for one hundred and twenty-four years this August. What I’ve learned is that it’s something you never really get used to.” Garrett puts his hand on Julie’s arm and she pulls back.

“I get that you’re trying to be nice, but don’t. Okay? I just don’t want it right now.” She turns and walks to the far side of the room.

Garrett watches after her, wishing there was some comfort he could give and knowing there really is none.

“Paco used her,” Lucy says softly. “Forced her to betray and harm those she loves. He killed her. She has a lot of bitterness to deal with, and she wants to be there right now destroying him.”

“I can only imagine what she’s going through. I’ve had some situations over the years that were seriously difficult and trying, but…”

“Like the one you’re in now?” Lucy interrupts him, asking the question with a biting edge.

He looks at her with his mouth open for a moment then narrows his eyes. He didn’t know how much she knew about his current situation. It’s easy to take for granted that people only know what you let them, until you meet someone like Lucy.

“I can see your life-force ebbing. When you die there will be no spirit life for you, but you know that don’t you?”

“The rarity of someone infected like I am being able to cross over is one thing, but to die from the entropic forces of the spirit world will rip apart any soul I might have to cross over. I’ve been studying spirits for more than a century, and I’ve learned a few things. I don’t want to worry the others. But it’s a mystery to me how I’m still here.”

He sounds so completely baffled that Lucy chuckles a little at him. He raises an eyebrow and smiles back at her, still puzzled.

“You hadn’t figured that out yet? That seems strange for someone with as much knowledge as you have amassed in your years of study. It’s Sunny and Veronica. The emotion they have invested and importance they place on you have managed to hold you on the edge for far longer than is normal. It will not last though.”

She was right to laugh at him. Emotion was the strongest power and the currency of the spirit world. He knew that. It should have been obvious.

“You’ll have to excuse me. I’m going on four days now without fresh blood anyway. Our condition kills most of our body, just not our brain. It remains active, but it requires fresh blood to provide it with life. I’m already feeling the effects of my depravation. It’s like suffocating slowly.”

Now it’s Lucy’s turn to feel foolish, for a change. She should have thought about the effects of having no blood on him, but had been so caught up in other things she’d given it no thought.

“We can go for a long time without blood. Eventually the brain does shut down, but it can be awakened with fresh blood being forced into our system. But when the brain begins to decay it’s never the same. Brain damage affects us the same way it does the living.”

She is respectful of the weight of his problem, but she’s still apprehensive of him in a general sense. He can tell from the emotions she’s not guarding well enough that she’s not sure what to make of him.

“Veronica trusts you, Lucy, so I guess I should too. There are some things that I think you need to know, if you don’t already, about what’s going on in Pekin and why Sunny and I are here.”

He has her interest and complete attention now.

“It’s the storm that Paco was talking about. The one that’s already seriously affecting the spirit world, with the rise in unquiet activity, and is starting to be felt in the living world. The storm is why Sunny and I are in Pekin. It’s like a beacon to those of us who can sense the spirit world. I think it is intended to draw the attention of something else. Something darker, and more powerful than Paco.”

“How is it that you are sensitive to spirits?”

Lucy is interested in what he knows about this storm, but first she wants to know more about who is giving her the information.

“I’ve always been able to see them, to sense them, even before I was infected. It’s the same way with Sunny. She has else, though. Something about her. A more potent… I don’t know… magic?”

Garret could feel Lucy holding her thoughts and feelings close, not wanting to reveal too much of what she wasn’t ready to.

“Her magic, do you know the source of it?”

“Sunny has a natural magic. She had it before I found her, before I made her.” He’s a little shocked when he can feel that Lucy already knew that.

“She’s from Pekin. I found her about fifteen years ago while I was passing through, tracking a spirit that had gone north from Memphis. Her name was Sunday Cross, but she said she liked to be called Sunny. I found her alone wandering in a field after her father had gone crazy and killed her mother and sister.”

Lucy nods, finally deciding to share a little with him. “I know that story, and the family she comes from, actually. Sunny’s sister Anna lives in the sanctuary. She’s one of my materials. She can manifest in the physical world more easily than others, among her many interesting talents.”

Sunny’s sister is still alive and gifted like she is, even in death. The concept was amazing to Garrett and Lucy could see his mind in motion. She had to bring him back to the present situation and the tasks at hand.

“I would love to discuss Anna and the sanctuary with you in greater detail. I also want to know more of what you know about the coming storm, but now is not the time. Everyone needs to rest, even you if you can. If I can be allowed to leave this place, I will go to the sanctuary and call together the outer guard. As we know that Paco intends to perform the ritual on Rachel at midnight, I will assemble my forces and meet everyone at the funeral home after eleven. My forces may not be as strong as those that the sorcerer commands, but we are greater in number.”

Julie, listening from across the room, is hurt by the thought that now Lucy would just leave her here in this place. She runs to find V, hoping that someone here still cares about her.

“That sounds like a plan. I’ll have Sunny let you out.” Garrett starts for the door then stops. “When all this is over, you’re going to have to tell me what it is about Veronica that makes you risk your life.”

“I think you already know the answer to that question.”

***

I can see the little girl clearly, vividly. Her clothes are dirtier and her hair is more matted but it’s definitely her. Her little eyes still flit from side to side. She’s hunched over in the cage because it’s too small for her.

Nearby there’s a shriek, answered by hundreds more. Dozens upon dozens of the glowing orange eyes flicker off and on around her.

Her little bloodied hands are still wrapped tightly around the bars of her tiny prison, and now she squeezes her eyes shut not wanting to see anymore of the swirling black things that surround her in the darkness.

It’s growing darker now, and the pungent smells of decomposition are only growing worse. Now there are rotting bodies on the floor under the box that she’s confined in. Her fate is the same as theirs and she is in terror of the time that they will come for her.

She knows it’s soon. They told her that.

She lets go of a bar with one hand and points to the ground under her. There is Julie’s body. It rolls off to reveal Frank. She points again and there’s her own body, clutching onto the brass key.

She mouths words that have no sound and then points down once more and the corpse of Veronica Fischer rolls onto the pile.

The little girl is being ripped at by black clawed hands, reaching through the bars of her cage. She retreats but they come from all directions more and faster while bits of her clothing and her skin fall to the floor.

“There’s no time left. V, you have to save me!”

***

I wake up in a strange place and instantly panic hits me in the face. I’m already up with the pistol in my hand before I realize that the men on the other side of the room are Frank and Jules.

The realization that I’m in the Masonic Lodge comes to me and the reality of the last few days events serve as a splash of cold water to my soul. Waking up to the horror of what’s become of my life.

I should feel safer with Jules here, and I guess I do. I just don’t feel at ease, not while Paco still has Rachel. Not while he’s hurting her to grow stronger.

I’m beginning to wonder if my dreams are simply my subconscious, or if Rachel can really speak to me in my sleep. I’ve taken it for granted that my dreams were my own, but I really can’t be sure.

Garret and Julie are here, with us. I love them both and I’m very thankful to have them back, but their conditions both serve as serious reminders of my failure. Failure, like I feel when I think about Rachel. I can’t stop worrying about her, and hating that we left her there with Paco.

Walking across the room I search for and eventually locate the clothes that Frank brought in from the car for me. He packed me a short, tight black dress, specifically with me fighting in mind. At least he brought my boots and my leather jacket.

I find a mirror, and check how I look. I really wish I had makeup, but that’s more out of habit than necessity. Jules is on his way over to me, I’m sure because he can sense my thoughts. Before I can address his concerns the rotted wooden door at the top of the staircase swings open violently and thumps loudly against the wall.

Sunny calls down to us, her normal chipper self, “Let’s get up and moving! We’ve got four hours to have everything ready and be out the door!”

CHAPTER 25

“WE’VE ONLY GOT TWO-HUNDRED rounds of the spectrally cursed ammo left for the automatic rifles, then we’re back to tracers and armor piercing,” Sunny announces as she sits down a wooden ammo box, and then two metal ones next to it. “Lock and load, boys and girls.”

We all gather around the table as Jules starts to load magazines. “I believe that all the ammunition should go to Frank. He’s an excellent marksman, and he has little in the way of self-defense when it comes to Paco’s spirits.”

“Well fuck that!” Sunny exclaims indignantly. “I want to be able to defend myself too. It’s not my fault you brought a featherweight to the big fight. I don’t even know you. Where do you get off telling me where my equipment’s gonna go?”

“I don’t have time to debate the issue with you. We need what you bring to the table, but I will not hesitate to turn off your brain and drive you around like a radio controlled car if you continue to be so hard to get along with.”

We all stare stunned at Jules’ words. Thankfully Sunny is smart enough to know he’s not bluffing and drops the issue.

I can see in Frank’s mind that he’s about to tell Sunny to sit down and let the grownups talk. I tap him in his mind and shake my head at him. That’s not the explosion we need right now.

Jules and I try to formulate a plan for saving Rachel and stopping Paco. It keeps coming down to getting into the building and getting to Rachel alive, before Paco can flee into the spirit world. Neither of us can find a way to hold him there if wanted to flee, and Sunny’s magic is likely not potent enough to do it.

Jules excuses himself to make a phone call and Sunny comes back over to the table as Frank takes over with the firearms. She’s watching Jules, and when he walks out of the room she finally decides to speak to me.

“He can’t really do that can he? Turn off brains and drive people around?”

I look at her somberly. “You’d be amazed what he can do with people’s minds.”

She looks nervously back at the door he walked out and then watches Frank for a moment. I can see in her thoughts that she doesn’t think that this attack is going to be that big a deal. I find that really disturbing.

“Why aren’t you worried about this? You lost all your men and almost died yesterday.”

“The assault team were just breathers. They’re nothing. They’re replaceable. Besides, we almost had him last time. I had him out on the ground. I think one more good push and he’ll be done.”

Jules walks back into the room as she’s talking and from the doorway he rebuffs her logic.

“We got lucky last time. We had surprise on our side and hit in two waves, with everything we had, and still barely escaped with our lives. Without managing to free the spirit that’s the focus of his ritual.”

Now that’s a real confidence builder. I was unsure of our chances before. Damn.

I can feel Julie in the room with us. She’s not choosing to be seen. I wonder if she knows that she still radiates emotion and that any of us that can sense those kinds of things could feel her pain and know she’s there as easily as if we could actually see her standing next to us.

Jules stands next to me at the table and looks around from face to face addressing us all.

“If he’s allowed to sacrifice that spirit then he’ll be far too powerful for us to contend with. I don’t believe you realize the scope of what we are facing. It’s lucky for you that some of us do. I’ve already contacted one of our kind who focuses on spirits and the paranormal. If anyone can help us here it’ll be her.”

He called Serena. I don’t know if having her involved in this makes me more or less nervous. Frank has stopped working and is hanging on Jules’ every word.

“She has agreed to help in what ways she can, and I believe that with her assistance we might be able to hold him there and make him face us. We just have to be able to stand against him and be successful. That will be the difficult part.”

Everyone feels the same dread about our chances that I do. Everyone, except Julie. She materializes next to me with a sound of ripping fabric. It seems the girl is a fast learner.

“It won’t be just us.”

She certainly knew how to grab everyone’s attention. All eyes are on her as she looks to the space next her, listening, and then speaks.

“Garrett says that Lucy left last night to go to a place she calls her sanctuary to gather her soldiers. She’s having them meet us at the funeral home tonight after eleven.”

I knew Lucy ran a home, of sorts, for spirits. I didn’t know she had soldiers. I do know that she is as powerful as these ‘unquiet’ servants of Paco’s though, and if her soldiers are even close to the same, then we suddenly have a real fighting chance.

“Good.” Jules doesn’t sound any happier with our odds, but he doesn’t sound more upset. “We should all do our parts to prepare for the struggle at hand then. Child, can you bring Garrett back across to the physical world?”

You could see the word child ignite a fire in Sunny’s eyes, but she still had enough fear for Jules not to vent her rage at him.

“I’ve already spent most of the night trying, unsuccessfully. There are a few more things I can attempt, but I don’t have a lot of hope left.”

We can all tell that Sunny will do anything she can to help to “fix” Garrett. She’s with us in this fight to a point, but she doesn’t like having to work with us to stop Paco. She feels that she and Garrett should have been able to handle all this without us, and it’s my fault they can’t. My fault for getting Garrett trapped in the spirit world.

I share at least some of her opinions.

***

Frank has loaded almost everything we’re taking with us into a black suburban and the Charger in the crude makeshift garage. It’s fifteen after ten, and the building has grown quiet.

Sunny comes into the garage to see how far we’ve gotten, and I can tell right away that she’s not been able to help Garrett. It’s written on her face, I don’t have to try to read it out of her.

I put my hand on her shoulder to try to comfort her and ask, “Isn’t there anything else you can do?”

Clearly that was the wrong thing to say, though I doubt there was really a right thing that I could have said. She smacks my hand away and screams at me.

“No, V.D.! I’ve done everything I can do! Everything, and nothing worked! Whatever that rotting tool did to put Garrett across, I can’t undo!”

Jules steps toward her and she can feel him pressing in her mind. She looks nervously at him before speaking again. Her volume goes down, but the cutting edge stays sharp.

“He’s had a lot more time to study up on how to be all abra-cadaver than I have. I do what I know how to do, and I pick up things here and there. I can push things into the spirit world, but can’t pull things back across. Believe me when I tell you that no one wishes I could fix this more than me. It’s almost as much as I wish you were dead, but that’s just not the way it is.”

I don’t think, no matter how this turns out, Sunny and I are ever going to get along. She’s decided that she hates me, and that too, is just the way it is.

“Well, I guess you can grab whatever gear you are taking and we can set this plan in motion.” I look at the clock on the wall and it’s hard not to shudder as I can feel the panic in my stomach. “It’s almost time.”

She opens the back door of the suburban and starts to do a quick inventory of what looks like a terrorist’s mobile warehouse of firearms and explosives. Having this girl as an enemy might prove to be painful over time, but I’m a little comforted knowing that she’s on our side tonight.

Frank steps close as I watch her and whispers to me, “Are you sure we should take a child back into a dangerous situation like this?”

“Hey, fairy, I’m in the room! If you have a problem with me, take it up with me.” She slams the door closed and looks at Frank and I. “I may look twelve, there’s nothing I can do to change that, but I’m almost twenty-eight years old. I’m not a child, I’ve got a stake in this, and there’s nothing short of death that’s gonna keep me outta this fight. You get me?”

Before anyone can answer Julie chimes in with a well timed, if not comfortable, distraction.

“Garrett says he’s going with you guys, and so am I.”

I try to appeal to her instead of issuing her commands. “Julie, you can only get hurt, and Garrett in his condition is too vulnerable to Paco’s powers. I’m afraid you two won’t make it.”

Sunny is actually nodding with me. “I don’t want that thing to have another shot at finally killing Garrett off. He needs to stay here.”

Julie is unfazed and judging by the listening she’s doing, Garrett isn’t either. I slide the single-lens goggles back down over my eyes and I can see him, and how animated he is.

“He says that he can draw some of the heavy hitting spirits off of you guys. At the very least he can do some damage somewhere, and so can I. With the spirits busy dealing with Garrett and I and all of Lucy’s people, you’ll have a better chance of actually getting your hands on Paco.”

Sunny smiles. “Oh, I’ll get my hands on him. What I’m worried about is the unquiet ability to shred the souls of average spirits. I’m not sure how they’ll impact Garrett, and I know they’ll kill you.”

“He says he’s felt their impact and he’s still alive, and I’m willing to risk it. This guy killed me and had me do awful things. We both have our reasons to be in this, and neither of us is backing out.”

I’m at a loss. Julie and Garrett make good points, but I feel like I’m watching them commit suicide and it’s not helping me that Sunny and I are actually agreeing on something.

“Are you sure it was their worst?” Sunny asks. “Take these charms.” She holds up a couple of what look to me like friendship bracelets, and pushes them into the shadow world.

“I only have two and I was going to give one to Lucy and use the other myself, but I think the two of you need them more, if you insist on going. It will make you more resistant to the kind of damage they can do to you.”

I really hope she’s right. I don’t want to lose Julie again, and Garrett can’t die. He just can’t.

***

Jules pulls the suburban over and stops a few blocks before the funeral home, so I follow suit. I’m not sure what he’s doing until I see Serena walk out onto the sidewalk. I have to get out and join their conversation. I want to know what kind of deal he’s struck with her.

Her silver hair whips out in the breeze; I don’t think I’ve ever seen it so uncontained. She’s wearing a white suit as usual, but she has a black hooded cloak on over it that makes her look like something out of a comic book. She looks at me and I get a chill.

I’ve wondered for a long time about her dabbling in ‘the arts’ as she calls them, but if Jules puts any stock or faith in her then it must be founded on something.

“What were you able to accomplish?” Jules asks her while she’s still boring a hole in me with her eyes.

She knows something I don’t, and I can’t quite place it in her thoughts. She’s hiding something.

She finally turns to look at Jules. “I’ve managed to encircle the area with a mystical energy that should stop him from performing his ritual. He’ll know what’s happened when he makes his attempt, and he’ll likely be able to reverse it, if what you tell me of his power is true. It should serve to slow him down a bit though, and offer you your window of opportunity to strike.”

“Are you not going to fight with us?”

As soon as I ask the question I know the answer. But it’s enough that I asked, to make her laugh out loud.

“No, I will not be joining in some brawl. Especially if he’s as powerful as I’ve been told.” She looks to Jules again, more seriously.

“Your payment still stands?”

“If you have managed to stop him so that we can attack, then it’s a small price to pay.” Jules is hiding it from me too. Whatever arrangement they’ve made, they both intend to keep me in the dark about it.

She crosses the street to her little silver Toyota and she’s gone. I look at Jules with questions in my eyes, but we both know there’s no time left for them now. We have to move quickly if we’re going to make it there in time.

We both start our vehicles and navigate the short distance remaining between us and the evil that means to crush us. I feel like I’m going to throw up.

We park on the same side of the lot where Paco had dropped Garrett and I off just days earlier. I can’t get the ‘if only’s’ out of my head. If only I’d known then what I know now then we could have just killed him at the plant and avoided all of this. If only I hadn’t left Garrett there alone.

We get out and stand on the sidewalk. I can feel the unease. I know that Jules wants to wait for Lucy, but he doesn’t think we have time.

“We have will have no benefit of surprise tonight. He knows we are going to come to try and stop him. He will be prepared. This is going to be brutal.”

There’s a lull as everyone steadies themselves, listening to the screams of the shadows rippling through the wind.

Frank breaks the silence by readying his rifle to fire. He puts on a pack full of ammunition with a harness, and side holsters a couple pistols.

Sunny follows suit, taking her pistols and some explosives from the suburban and loading up like she were going to war.

We all begin to walk slowly forward, grim determination and fury with the man that’s caused our problems driving us forward. Frank is the last to speak before we get to the building. “Let’s show this fucker how we play.”

***

As we enter through the hole that Sunny made last night, all of the shadows shrink back away from us. They seem to be making our way clear to enter. That does nothing to make me comfortable with being here. If I live through this I want to buy the place and have it bulldozed and turned into a public parking lot.

Everyone is ready to jump at any noise or movement as we walk down the hall, but it seems that we’re being allowed to enter.

The main parlor looks much the same as it did when we left this morning, with the exception of a gaping hole in the middle of the floor.

Sunny’s team are all standing now, armed and lining the walls. I guess Paco decided that he’d have them animated by his little spirit friends to fight us. Insult to injury I guess.

An altar is now on the far end of the room, across the hole from us, where you’d expect a casket to sit, and as we enter Paco comes out of the back behind it.

“Welcome back, pet.” He hisses the words as much as says them. Clearly he felt some sense of betrayal at my leaving.

“I see you’ve brought friends with you, even ones with short life expectancies.”

He raises his hand, like I’ve seen him do before, and the room gets darker. The moving shadows circling the room around us become substantial, losing their transparent quality. I am, as always, unsettled by their eyes. I doubt that burning glow is something I’ll ever adjust to.

Then looking to my right I see Garrett and I think I finally understand what it is Paco has done. He’s made the film between the spirit world and our own so thin that we can see through it.

“I don’t mean to sound callous, but your friend Garrett there, he doesn’t have long left. He’s at death’s door. After all, physical creatures like him will decay and erode in the spirit realm rather quickly. Even bloodsuckers, whose bodies heal rather rapidly, can’t live there indefinitely.”

He feigns sadness. “I just wish there were some way you could save him. That poor sad fella.”

Paco almost falls down laughing at what he’s said. Sunny is about to lob a grenade at him when I stop her. I whisper to her, “Wait. See where this goes.”

She looks at me like I’m out of my mind. She looks at me like I look at Jules when he tells me to do things I don’t understand. Have I really gotten old?

“You’re going to give us the little girl, and you’re going to bring Garrett back across. Once you’ve done that you’re going to take your spirits and leave town,” Jules says it forcefully, but Paco’s mind isn’t affected like those of the living and most of the dead. He scoffs at Jules.

“If you’ve come to tell me I’m done for and I should just give up, you’re too fucking late!” He spits the words out with a shower of decomposing liquid. “I used Jacobi’s blood to complete my first ritual after you fled this morning. I’ve awakened one of the great slumbering giants, the all consuming darkness. I’ve called it forth from the depths of the pit the Greeks called Tartarus, the deepest region of the underworld.”

The leathery black demons that Paco commands are all keeping their distance from us. I notice as he’s speaking that most of them are also keeping their distance from the hole in the floor. This giant he decided to play alarm clock for must be down there.

“It predates man, this creature. It was spawned by Nyx in the world of forever-night; all it has ever known is to consume and slumber. It will devour you. I have the pleasure of knowing that you will serve me, even if it is only to feed the beasts I command. You will not stop me from sacrificing the child, and becoming as powerful as I am destined to be.”

I can’t help but share my contempt for this arrogant puss filled windbag. “This great creature of myth and legend is coming to Pekin? Wow. Now that’s got to be a sad chapter to add to its life.”

Then we can hear it. There’s a roar I can feel in my soul as I see a giant wormlike thing scraping up out of the hole in the floor in front of us. It’s a colorless pallor with no eyes. Its tendrils, like arms, flail wildly. It sweeps a few of Paco’s servants that foolishly stood too close into its vacuous maw.

The part of it that I can see has to be the size of a Boeing 747. This is going to be a little harder than I had thought it would be, back when I thought it was completely hopeless.

“It looks like a giant potato maggot,” Sunny whispers, the only one of us able to find their voice.

As more of it comes into view it exudes an even deeper blackness, blanketing the room. A darkness accompanied by a sense of loss and gloom. Just being near it makes the idea of fighting it seem pointless.

Paco screams from the other side of the pit and monster he’s called forth, “Veronica dear, I thought that’d you’d like to know that while you’re being devoured, I will be completing my last ritual, sacrificing this.”

He holds Rachel up in front of him, already bound back into her dead corpse. She’s gagged, but I can still hear her screaming in agony.

A wicked attempt to smile contorts his face as his enormous worm, in the space between us, swings wildly trying to force anything it touches into its rows of jagged teeth.

”Once I’m finished my power will be too great for any here to oppose me.”

Before I have time to respond, telling him he sounds like a cheap B-movie villain, the thing lunges forward out of the hole toward us.

It’s fast for something that size. It wraps one of its limbs around Sunny’s leg, pulling her to the floor off balance and almost succeeds in pulling her into its cavernous mouth.

Frank empties a magazine into the tentacle holding her leg. The sound it makes in pain as it drops her is the most awful guttural cry imaginable. This was definitely worse than we had planned for.

It lurches forward again with its grasping appendages thrashing wildly, knocking Frank and me to the floor. We’re both able to roll away fast enough to avoid their grasp. Now we’re both aware, as Sunny already was, of the barbs on the inside of the tentacles. Once this thing has its would-be meal it doesn’t mean to let it escape.

Jules takes the opportunity of its next violent jerk toward us to leap up onto its back. Using it as a springboard he jumps again, landing in front of Paco.

I can see the two of them struggling with each other, but I can’t follow what’s going on closely. It’s all I can do to keep Frank, Sunny and myself from being eaten.

Frank gets smacked back out into the hallway by the creature’s next advance, and that’s when I realize what Paco’s spirit servants are really doing.

They lift Frank off the floor and knock him back at the monster’s mouth hard. They are acting like the bumpers in a sadistic game of pinball. Conserving their energy, they’re simply watching to prevent us from escaping.

Sunny leaps in front of Frank, stopping his slide toward oblivion. They crumple to the floor in a heap of arms and legs. Smacking the things grasping limbs, I manage to buy them enough time to stand and get back out of reach.

Garrett and Julie are both trying to hit it as well, but it doesn’t even seem to notice them, as it rolls and smashes trying to get at me.

The floor is buckling under us, and it’s only a matter of a few more thrusts upward before that thing will have a clear shot at us. Then we really are all done for.

From across the room I can hear an inhuman scream from Paco. I can’t see through the gargantuan maggot in front of us to where he’s at, but the shriek is followed in quick succession by an electric crackling, and Jules screaming in pain.

I can’t help but feel déjà vu from last night’s events. It’s like we came back to let this putrid cadaver finish what he couldn’t before.

When the beast slumps back into the pit between us to prepare for its next onslaught I can see Jules smoldering on the floor, as Paco continues with his ritual. Terror begins to grip me like a vice. I believe that hope is truly lost until I see Jules’ arm shift position as he slowly moves to stand.

Paco can see him move as well, though. Distending his jaw, he issues forth another unbearable howl and sends a second surge of dark energies into Jules’ rising form. He’s battered back to the floor with fury. I lose sight of him as my view is suddenly blocked by a massive tentacle, radiating darkness.

With no time to react I find myself blinded by the thing now wrapped around my head. There’s an intense stinging pain in my head, as a large talon, like a hook, digs into it. My skull almost comes loose from my spine as it roughly drags me, kicking wildly, across the floor.

Someone grabs my arm and tries to pull me back, but the demonic slug wins the tug of war, pulling me free of whoever’s hands held me. Without warning my back is ripped open, as it’s pushed forcefully over bladed edges.

I’m shoved deep into its cold sticky mouth before I’m released. I have only an instant to orient myself, and try to keep my head intact as the barbed hook is removed, before the teeth begin to grind.

Now, I know I’m dead. I can only hope that someone kills this thing for me. The constricting darkness and digestive juices that surround me are not at all how I thought I’d meet my end. Thanks to Sunny my memorial will probably read ‘killed by giant potato maggot.’

With all the self-discipline I can muster, I concentrate on other, better ways I should have died. The concepts aren’t enough to take my mind off being chewed to pieces, but I’m distracted enough that when the being ground up becomes sharply jarring bounces in short bursts, I don’t immediately realize it. When the motion stops I hear a familiar sound, though it is deafening now.

The ugly worm creature screams in pain, and while its mouth is open Sunny jumps in and grabs me.

It looks like suicide on her part, until I hear Frank outside firing rounds into the beast from the automatic rifle. Now I get it.

Before it can even close its mouth from the first shriek of pain, it’s made to cry out again. The mouth still isn’t open long, but with Sunny’s speed it’s enough.

“Quick, jump for it,” she yells at me.

It clams down on her heel as we are diving out, and she yells as it pulls her backward. I grab her hands and yank her free, almost completely severing her right foot.

“Thanks!” she says, thankful not to lose anything else.

“No, thank you!”

I can feel from her that she’s more than a little freaked out by the lacerations all over my body, and the fact that she can see my spine. I try not to show her any pain, and hope that I heal as fast as possible.

It would be nice if I had learned better than to get distracted from the last incident, but I’m no more than out and back on my feet before I’m looking to see if Jules has killed Paco and saved Rachel yet.

What I see is not comforting. Jules is seriously wounded. I’ve never seen anything like it. Paco is spewing green flames from his hands, covering most of Jules’ body. His skin is beginning to slowly turn to clumps of thick ash and slough off of him, but he doesn’t stop fighting.

Jules falls, and I’m not sure if he’s getting back up again as Paco intones more of his ritual. I can see him twitching a bit on the floor, so I know he’s alive, but trying to get back up into that would be suicide.

I narrowly dodge another strike from this massive speed bump, and I’ve had enough.

“Everybody start grabbing those unquiet lackeys and get them into this things reach. Start with the ones in the assault team’s bodies.”

All five of us make a mad dash for the spirits that are keeping us herded in front of the hungry giant. I’m not sure if it’s out of determination on our part, or their sheer surprise, but we manage to buy ourselves some time. The eating machine in the floor is temporarily distracted chewing on things we threw at it, that aren’t us.

I look back to the altar and realize that Paco’s ritual has failed. He’s broken down part of his own altar, and thrown his precious ritual supplies across the room. His enraged tantrum would be funny if he weren’t venting his wrath on Jules.

Everyone around me is now embroiled in a free-for-all, as they try to force more of the spirits surrounding us into the reach of their master’s summoned pet.

Paco is attacking Jules in earnest. His hands are awash in green flame and he’s throwing it down onto Jules. Not only does it burn, but it appears to cling onto flesh. Even at this distance I can smell his hair and skin burning.

Jules draws his sword and stumbles to his feet. Shielding his face, he walks slowly forward through the gout of green flames, and blindly slashes downward twice. His second blow finds its mark, taking off Paco’s left arm at the elbow.

Paco screams in agony as the flames wash over them both. His servants, coming to his aid, begin to pummel Jules.

The rotting wizard puts himself out with a few words screamed in misery, but he’s badly wounded. He barks orders to the spirits nearest to him as Jules falls to the floor again. More flesh falls in piles of ashes around him, as he continues to burn.

I’m watching Jules with panic for his life, when the giant beast heaves itself up at us again. This time it’s more than the floor can take and it gives way under us.

I’m knocked backward at first, falling hard on the floor. Then, sliding at an angle downward I can feel exposed vertebrae drag across the ripped carpeting, pulling at the weave as I go. I’m pretty badly wounded and Frank and Sunny aren’t much better. We can’t hold out like this.

I’ve almost reached the conclusion, through my suffering and prolonged exposure to this thing, that we have failed, when I can see the black skinned demons keeping us pinned in here begin to struggle. It takes a moment to realize what’s happening as white light begins to pour into the room, but it becomes clear.

Lucy is here with her soldiers, and now I think we may have a chance.

Like a battlefield general, in a white formal gown, Lucy barks orders. Those under her command go in all directions dealing with the creature trying to eat us as well as the unquiet masses. Paco’s spirits seem seriously outnumbered next to the force that Lucy has brought to bear.

She sees me, fighting back to back with Julie, and looks around near me for Rachel.

“Rachel’s on the altar back there, behind this thing.” I point. “Help her!” She nods to me and disappears.

Just as I’m starting to believe she’s been gone too long, and must be in trouble now too, she returns carrying Rachel. The poor girl is free from her body, but not awake.

“Jules is still fighting Paco, and there are more of his unquiet on their way from below. Rachel must be taken away.”

I know she’s right, but I can’t abandon the fight.

“Julie.” It’s a gut reaction. “Julie can get her to safety.”

This kills two birds with one stone for me. I’ll know that Julie and Rachel are both safe.

“V, no! I’m not here because you want me to be. I have a stake in this,” Julie tells me. She’s impassioned and wants payback for her death. I don’t blame her.

Lucy looks into her deeply and then says, “Julie. Stop and listen to me. I need you to focus for me. I need you to stay with Rachel. Get her away from here and back to the safety of the sanctuary, if there’s a break in the fighting. Do you hear me? She will die here, you have to protect her.”

“All right. I’ll stay with her.” Julie accepts what’s asked of her, even if she doesn’t like it. That’s my girl.

“Thank you, child. If you can get her out, do it!”

Lucy and I turn our attention, as has nearly everyone, to the worm thing. It is gorging itself on Lucy’s spirits as well as Paco’s.

A quick glance back up to the altar shows me Paco and Jules. Still screaming and fighting, they both look completely devastated from the struggle.

With everyone now fighting together the deep dwelling creature begins to writhe and shriek in pain. It is being attacked on all sides, and is being wounded by more attackers than it can eat. It’s not a quick process, but eventually it turns to flee, ripping even more of the floor out as it goes. It’s not destroyed, but now the focus of the assault can shift to the ‘unquiet’ and Paco.

Paco’s ‘unquiet’ spirits put up a valiant effort, but soon realize they are terribly outnumbered and surrender, to be taken prisoner by the sanctuary’s outer guard.

I look back to the altar, not ready for the fight to be over, and Paco is gone. Not like he’s shuffled off this life into the next. He’s just gone. Somehow he managed to escape without tipping us, while we were dealing with his worm.

“I’ll find him, Jules. He can’t have gone far. There aren’t deep enough holes for him to hide in.” I look to Jules for his reassuring nod of approval and instead see pieces of his clothes and his hat lying in clumps of bloody ash on the floor.

“No. No. No!” I am suddenly acutely aware of his absence. I didn’t feel a big dramatic loss, but I know now that he’s not here. How did I not feel him die? My legs become unsteady under me. The vacant hole left in me is now a gaping pit I can’t hope to ignore.

“Jules!” I fall to my knees as tears streak my face. I can see that even Sunny understands as she looks away from me, showing a mirror of my sadness. My loss. The pain tears through me like lightning, both physical and emotional.

Why wasn’t it me who died? It should have been. It could have been. If I had killed Paco last night when he was unconscious, I would have died, but Jules would still be alive. He wouldn’t have even been here if I hadn’t asked him to be. This is all my fault.

I pick up shreds of his clothes and squeeze them tightly in my hands, trying to hold onto what little of him there is left in the room. I’m shaken, numb, and afraid.

He was my friend, my first real love, and the closest I’ve ever known to a father. He was my everything, for decades. He made me what I am. How can I hope to move on without him? How do I put my life back together, with the center missing?

I’ve been called an orphan for as long as I can remember, but for the first time I actually feel like one.

Frank walks over, leans down, and puts his arms around me, as I’m torn in two with pain and crying. For minutes on end he just holds me.

I hear Julie and Rachel talking to Lucy. They must not have made it far.

Lucy’s ice cold hand rests lightly on my shoulder, and I am thankful to have those around me I care about. I will not take any of them for granted.

“V?” Rachel’s little voice is still weak, but at least I can hear her again. I look up to see her, blurry through my tears.

“Yeah, Rachel?”

“The Garrett man is fading away.” She points behind her, but I can’t see him.

This is grossly unfair. It’s too much at once. Sunny is feeling what I’m feeling but she’s all alone, and I know she’d never accept comfort from me.

“What else can I do, Lucy? What else? There has to be something, right? There’s got to be a way to save him!”

She looks away from me, and I can only barely hear her say, “I’m sorry, Veronica. I’m sorry.”

The reality of the situation overcomes me. There’s far more loss than I’m prepared to deal with. I drop my head and cry.

With my eyes closed and my head down in grief, I feel a nudging on my leg. I open my eyes and wipe the tears enough to see that strange black cat. It’s here again.

It looks into my eyes and everything stops. It’s as if someone had frozen all life in place, except the cat and I. It crawls up into my lap but it never looks away from my eyes.

I hear a voice speaking, and it takes me a moment to realize that it’s that cat. She’s speaking in my mind.

‘I can’t bring your loved one back, and I can’t bring back the coward who fled, but I can save the one who is trapped in the world of the dead where he was left. I can do it now before he dies as well.’

“What will it take? What do you want?” I ask aloud.

‘You will aide me in the troubled times that lie ahead. Your friends already prepare for what they know is coming. I know as well. You will aid me, and for that I will aid you.’

“Aid you? How?” I ask, confused. “Who are you?”

‘My name is Elizabeth, but I answer more commonly to Liz. This cat is a vessel I use. It’s a creature I have attuned to my essence so that I can avoid undue notice. I wish to have your aid in physical and psychological matters. It will all become clear in time.’

“If you aren’t a cat, then what are you?” I ask, sure I’m having a complete mental collapse.

‘I am a woman, a human being. I am still very much alive unlike you, and I weep for what you are being put through. I wish to help you if you are willing to help me.’

At this point, even if it’s not real, how can I afford to say no to it? I can’t. I have to do anything I can to save Garrett, if he can be saved.

“I’ll help you, okay. I’ll do it. Just save him.”

As soon as the words escape my lips, I’m sitting alone again. The cat is gone, and I feel ill. This must be what losing your mind feels like.

I hear a scream and I turn to look behind me and see Sunny running to Garrett. He’s standing right in front of me, and he’s actually there.

Sunny leaps over me into his arms and he swings her around hugging her as I slowly stand up in front of him wiping my tear streaked face.

I remember Jules holding me like that.

Garret puts Sunny down and opens his arms to me. I fall into him, crying on his shoulder. I’m glad that he can hold me. I need that and only that for as long as he can bear it.

I’m not sure how long I stay there in the safe warmth of his arms letting all my grief, guilt, and helplessness out on him. I only know he lets me.

When I finally lean back from him, our arms still draped on each other, to look into his face he has a warm smile for me and concern in his eyes. Where did this guy come from?

“How did you do that?” he asks softly.

“Do what?” I ask, trying again in vain, to wipe my face clean of makeup and tears.

“Bring me back across. How did you do it?”

“We’ll call it magic.” Unbelievably I manage a small laugh.

Garrett laughs too and pulls me outside with him. We sit down on the edge of the sidewalk just outside the building, and he puts his arm around me.

“At least we won.”

Garrett’s words are an attempt to console me, I know that. I stop to consider everything that happened, as I stare up at the stars and I can’t help coming to a different conclusion.

“We didn’t win.” I’m finally able to speak without my voice wavering.

“What?”

I look at him, but I have to look away.

“We saved Rachel, and stopped Paco’s ritual, that’s true. He got away though, even with all our effort, and he’ll try it again.”

“You sound so pessimistic. People are out there looking for him. He has nowhere left to hide and he’s lost almost everything. “

“I lost a lot myself.”

“You have Lucy, and Rachel. You have Frank, and Julie, and the girls who’ll be counting on you now, more than ever,” he says, and then moves his face in front of mine. “You have me.”

The fact that he’s right doesn’t make this small victory any less bitter.

We stand and look at Frank and Sunny waiting for us by the cars. He pulls me tight to him again, and asks, “Do you think you and Frank would want to stay with us until your house is repaired?”

“I think we could live with that.”

This embrace makes up for some of my losses. Paco’s death will make up for more.

‘You realize there is no backing out of our arrangement,’ the cool voice says in my mind as the cat nudges my leg slightly.

I let go of Garrett and take a step back before thinking back at it in my mind, ‘For love and revenge. I think it’s worth it.’

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