In the Midnight Hour

by Katrina VanBuskirk

  Sarae grimaced. “Wow. That’s cold.”

  Ava’s typing sped up. “We’ve been trying to follow up on leads, but with the accident this morning, we hadn’t had time. They haven’t been back to school, though.” The red nails hovered over the keyboard. “Why, you want to check it out?”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  Ava’s face wreathed with a smile. “I don’t mind at all and you know it. It’s good for you to get out and about.”

  Sarae rolled her eyes forever. “Don’t talk to me about the therapeutic effects of police work.”

  “Huh. Yeah. Emma!” She hollered, making Sarae jump. “Give Sarae a copy of what we got so far on the Thompson thing.”

  “On it,” Emma called back.

  Ava lowered her voice as the copier droned outside. “You know those two young men out there?”

  “I do not.”

  Ava frowned. “I was hoping you would. That guy’s got a big old owl. Wasn’t sure if you two had met at some owl conference.”

  “I … don’t think we have those. I really thought I was the only owlslinger in the world.”

  Under her hair, Zoe grumbled something she didn’t catch, and her soft little body blobbed back down into sleep.

  A moment later, Emma came in with a couple of sheets of paper stapled together and handed them to Sarae. “There you go.”

  “Thanks. Sorry I missed Emily’s baseball game last night. I fell asleep early last night.” A lie.

  “Ah. Well.” Ava straightened some papers, but Sarae had an idea she sensed the lie. “Maybe you could come by tomorrow night.” Ava’s eyes met hers.

  “Sure thing.” Sarae waved the file. “Well, I’m going to go on out to the cabin and see what I can find.”

  “Let me know if you run across anything.”

  A ghost was sitting in an alcove of the office, grumbling under its breath. It had a knife sticking out of its throat. Sarae smelled ashes.

  “See ya,” she said, hurrying now.

  There were always a number of Trapped Dead in the house turned Sheriff’s department, and they always started showing up after she’d been there for a few minutes.

  That particular man was stuck in the chimney behind Ava’s desk. Sarae hadn’t quite figured out how to free somebody when her cousin or those who worked for her were usually right there.

  She came out and found the old slaveowner Clemens yelling at the guy with the owl.

  “Zoe,” she whispered.

  Zoe stirred, woke up, saw the nasty slaveowner. “Him again,” she whispered.

  Just then, the great horned owl hissed at Clemens, its wings spreading, and both guys leaned lazily to make room for the owl’s gigantic wings. The slaveowner was pushed back out of the room from the owl’s hiss. Sarae watched, appreciating the display.

  “Hey, now,” Emma called to the strangers, who ignored her. “You boys take that owl outside. That’s a wild animal, not a plaything.”

  “See you later, Emma,” Sarae said to redirect her. At least the ghost was gone. Nasty old thing. She had no interest in helping him.

  She walked past the sunglasses dude and the tall drink of water. Their eyes smoldered at her.

  Two pairs of eyes.

  She suddenly had a stray imagining of the three of them in bed together.

  A hot daydream.

  The tall drink of water kissed her breasts, while the sunglasses dude was hard at work between her legs. She arched her back in pleasure under their bodies….

  Sarae’s heart pounded. She shook her head to dislodge the daydream and walked faster to get out the door.

  What the hell was wrong with her?

  Phantoms

  Remy had been waiting for a while for the Sheriff to return. He sighed as a dozen ghosts drifted through the wall behind a poster declaring the dangers of drug use and talking to strangers. Their clothes were all sopping wet, dripping water that made no marks on the floor. Their bodies were bloated, their skin a grayish-blue, and their hair hung in lanky, dripping strings, plastered to their bloated and distorted features.

  “What happened to you guys?” Remy asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. Sitting quietly in a dull police station waiting room wasn’t exactly his idea of a productive way to spend his time.

  The oldest of the ghosts blinked in surprise at him, leaning in close to peer into Remy’s eyes as if he couldn’t believe a living person could actually see him. He jerked back when Hinto let out a warning hiss, opening his wings slightly.

  Remy turned to a young girl with blonde hair that had faded almost to white.

  From behind his glasses, he checked the desk. The deputies had left the desk to join the bony woman at her desk, looking at some cat videos she was playing. One of the deputies laughed. “Oh my god, that’s my cat exactly,” he was saying.

  Free from prying eyes, Remy took his sunglasses off and leaned forward. “I’m Remy,” he said in a gentle voice to the girl. “What happened to you?”

  “The bridge broke,” the girl said, her voice eerily high in the room’s silence. Remy felt the hairs on his neck stand. “And our cars all went in….”

  A teenage boy missing an eye put his bluish hand on her shoulder. “I tried to save her, but I couldn’t … I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t get her out of the car fast enough.”

  The room grew suddenly cold.

  “You were afraid,” Remy said quietly.

  The teenager swallowed, his Adam’s apple bouncing. “Never been more scared in my life.”

  “You’re a hero. Trying to save her when you could have saved yourself.”

  The boy shrugged. “She’s my sister. I wasn’t going to ever leave her behind.” The girl hugged him, her face sad.

  “Go together to heaven,” Remy said. “Be released from this grief.”

  Marcus, at his side, was keeping a close eye on Emma to be sure she wouldn’t turn around. He nodded at Remy.

  Remy reached into his pocket, producing a small velvet bag, and shook a teaspoon of sparkling powder into the palm of his hand.

  He gently blew the powder over the ghosts. “Be released,” he sang quietly. “Be freed.”

  Starlight bloomed in the dark waiting area as a portal opened to the world Beyond. A soft breeze that smelled of roses wafted out.

  The little girl’s eyes grew wide, wide, and she cried out in joy. Her brother hugged her, saying, “Look at that, Marybeth! Just look at that!”

  “Go now,” Remy said with tenderness.

  The ghosts, now singing with joy, flocked into the starlit path. But the little girl turned and waved at Remy before they vanished.

  Gone.

  Other ghosts hung around, hungry, longing. Each of them would require their own ceremony.

  Just then the door to the sheriff’s department opened. Remy quickly pocketed the velvet bag.

  A white girl entered the station as if she were trying to stay in the shadows. Her black hair was straight and glossy, worn over one shoulder. She wore a blue jacket, and had the habitually confused look of a reader who’d been surprised out of the middle of a chapter of the book she’d been reading. Worn blue jeans, comfortable tennis shoes.

  From behind his glasses, Remy squinted at her. It seemed as if something was hiding behind that fall of glossy black hair. Maybe she was hiding a growth on her neck? She was otherwise striking.

  The young woman’s eyes darted around the room as if she were searching for something. But when she turned and saw Remy, her eyes widened at the sight of Hinto.

  That was nothing new.

  But this young woman didn’t exhibit the same surprise as everyone else Remy had met since the death of his family. More in a kind of confirmed astonishment he couldn’t place.

  As if she’d been expecting them.

  “That female has an owl on her shoulder,” Hinto’s voice clicked softly in his ear. “Under her hair.”

  Remy nodded slowly at her.

  She blushed.

  She act
ually blushed! A red flush swept down her face to her neck and she nodded quickly and turned away.

  He managed not to show his smile. But he was intensely curious.

  “How the fuck does she have an owl?” Hinto mused.

  Remy watched her do a near-perfect job of pretending not to see the obese ghost standing in the corner in his underwear with a broken nose and a shiv sticking out of his bleeding neck. Near perfect.

  “Interesting,” Remy murmured.

  “What’s interesting?” Marcus asked, scrolling through the FBI page on his phone, reading up on the latest cases.

  “That girl,” said Remy.

  Marcus smiled broadly at her, his charm coming as easily as breathing to him.

  “She can see the Trapped Dead too,” he murmured under his breath to Remy, returning her smile.

  He met her eye – though she couldn’t see his eyes through his mirrored shades. She was looking at his face, and now her face went slightly confused, and she turned her eyes away, biting her lip.

  But there was something to that eye drop – as if she had some thoughts about him.

  Remy kept his face impassive. But he thought about catching her in his arms. Thought of how her body would feel against his, all curves, her skin hot on his.

  They watched as the girl was greeted warmly by the staff, asked for the sheriff, and was shown in immediately.

  She stayed out of sight for a few minutes, and then they heard someone shout for a copy of ‘The Thompson Thing.’ A moment later the girl came out holding a manila envelope. She watched them from the corner of her eye, like she wished she could stop herself, pretended not to see the next obnoxious ghost who approached them, and pushed her way back out the door.

  Hm! Looks like the sheriff is in after all, Remy thought.

  Remy stood and approached the officers behind the desk, taking off his sunglasses.

  “The sheriff back yet?”

  The woman took her time straightening papers on the desk before she answered, and Remy felt Marcus’ hand on his shoulder in warning.

  Hinto ruffled his feathers in irritation. “Want me to make a scene? Those papers look fun to shred.”

  “She’ll be with you boys shortly,” the woman said, her smile dripping with as much phony sugar as her voice. “If you’ll just take a seat, we’ll be sure to let you know the moment she’s available.”

  Fuck that. He had no interest in sitting around letting these bastards stare at him.

  Remy had already turned toward the door before she finished, pushing his way outside.

  As soon as the door closed firmly behind Remy and Marcus, he muttered, “Bunch of assholes.”

  Marcus shrugged. “The sheriff probably knows that girl. That’s all.”

  Remy pursed his lips and shook his head at Marcus. “Your kindness is going to be your downfall. You know that?”

  Marcus just put an arm around Remy’s shoulder as they walked to the RV. “You may be right. But you know what? I’m cool with it.”

  “And we did not just drive five million hours across the middle of fucking nowhere to watch a girl whose owl fits under her hair walk off with our case,” Remy growled.

  “So,” Marcus said, hurrying to the RV. “Our plan is…?”

  “Follow her,” Remy said, watching her little red Toyota pickup moving slowly down the road, leaving behind the smell of burning oil.

  Hinto opened and closed his wings, looking down the road after the young woman. “Another owl-bearer. I haven’t seen another one for years. Don’t let her get away, Remy.”

  “I most assuredly will not,” he said, climbing up into the Sprinter’s driver’s seat.

  A Wild Goose Chase

  Sarae drove along the county blacktop out of town toward Smith’s Creek, the little town where she lived, and also the location of the cabin where Chloe and Lauren had vanished.

  Zoe was falling asleep on her perch between the seats of the pickup she drove. It was a red 2005 Toyota pickup that burned oil but it still ran just fine.

  She could see in her rear-view mirror that California RV following her. They were pretending to not follow her because they were way back on the road.

  Sarae sighed and slowed down a little bit so they could keep her in sight. They were out-of-towners. If they got lost out here in the wilderness, they’d probably die.

  On the other hand, she could lead them out into the wilderness until they ran out of gas and maybe got stuck. Then she could have her way with them!

  She took another deep breath. “I have got to interact more with actual humans,” she muttered. “Then I wouldn’t want to hump everything that moves.”

  Zoe, half-asleep, clicked her beak, a tsk-tsk sound. “The problem with humans is that every season is mating season,” she mumbled into her chest feathers. “We owls enjoy our delight in early spring. After that, we just don’t think about it much. You don’t want to lay eggs in early fall, you know.”

  Sarae sighed. The problem with owls was that they actually were pedantic.

  “Were you able to talk to that guy’s owl?” she asked Zoe, trying to think about something else, but Zoe merely grumbled.

  Sarae remembered the ancient man in the soybean field, the one who went by the name of Roan. He had said there were others who bore the owls. She’d never met an owl-bearer before. And when you’ve thought you were the only one in all the world, to actually meet somebody like you is a revelation.

  If they were following her, she figured they’d better not get lost. Also, she kind of wanted to talk to them. It felt like ages since she’d really talked to anybody besides her cousin.

  That hot daydream returned, making Sarae shift a little in her seat. She hadn’t really done much outside of making out with some boyfriends back home in Buffalo. Lust had fallen off the map for her after her whole family had died.

  But now, that daydream forced its way into her thoughts, and she couldn’t stop thinking about how their bodies might feel against hers….

  Her little truck roamed up and down the hills of the blacktop past soybean fields, vanished lakes where only grass grew, open pastures where black and red cattle grazed, and swung past a little white church into a rough tiny town where neat houses stood next to double-wide trailers.

  She crossed into the bluffs, this highway twisting through the hills. The hills stretched out for miles in every direction here with lovely views, and the floodplain below, covered with a green patchwork of soybean fields.

  “Whoo?” Zoe suddenly said, waking up, the way she always did when there were dead looking for Sarae.

  “I take it this is the Millers’ cabin,” Sarae said, turning off the gravel road onto a paved driveway. Well, well, somebody had money to pave this road.

  She pulled up in front of the cabin, and surprise, surprise, here was Heather in her 1980s outfit, waiting for her. This was the cabin where Heather had died in 1985, and she’d never been able to leave.

  “Shit,” Sarae said to Zoe.

  The screech owl swiveled her head to look out the truck window. “Oh. It’s just her,” Zoe said, flat. “Why’d I have to wake up for her?” She snuggled her bill back into her chest feathers and sank back into sleep like a feathery ball of adorableness.

  Sarae’s fingers twitched. If only she could free Heather, send her to the world of the dead right now! She hated so much talking to Heather. She’d never been a fan of those pushy privileged white women who insisted on having everything the way they wanted, without a care for anyone else.

  “There you are,” Heather called to Sarae. “But here are the people I called,” she crowed triumphantly as the California RV pulled into the driveway behind her.

  “What were you thinking?” Sarae demanded, quickly rolling down her windows for Zoe, even though the day was cool. She clambered out of the truck. Yeah, actually, she knew exactly what Heather had been thinking – she was just playing a game of one-upmanship. And now she was going to lead these poor California people on a wild g
oose chase clear out in the middle of nowhere. And for what? Only for some half-hysterical gal who lacked any sense whatsoever.

  But here the guys came out of their fancy RV real slow like they owned the place. No owl, though. They’d probably let it stay inside, snoozing on its perch the way Zoe was.

  Really, Sarae didn’t care what Heather did. If she stopped calling on her, she would have been fine with it. But she said, “Why did you call this guy? He’s not even from around here!”

  Heather crossed her arms and huffed. “I called Remy because he knows what to do. He’s the Voodoo King.”

  “The what what?” Sarae said. Seriously! These people.

  “He will find my children,” Heather proclaimed.

  They’re not your children, Sarae groused to herself, but here came Remy with the other guy.

  Remy was watching the ground like he was expecting a bunch of snakes to spring out of the grass and bite him. He came up the hill, the paved driveway that went up into the bluffs.

  Despite her disdain for this guy who was walking on her turf and working in her territory, she had to admit, he really did look hot. Sarae looked on his shiny black shoes, the expensive high style cut of his shirt. He wore skin-tight black jeans, too, that showed off every muscle in his legs and the curve of his butt. Model-sharp, very fine. Sarae stared.

  The guy with him was more casual, wearing designer jeans and cowboy boots and a T-shirt for Vandals Sacking Rome, which sounded like a metal band.

  Heather’s ghost swanned past Sarae. “Hello!” she trilled to Remy, fluttering a ghostly hand.

  Sarae rolled her eyes forever.

  “Ah, Heather,” Remy crooned. Hmph. “To what do I owe the honor?”

  “Serendipity,” Heather giggled.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Sarae burst out.

  The two guys turned and looked at her for a moment.

  “I’m sorry, did you hear something?” asked Heather snippily without turning around … but Sarae was pleased to see the back of her neck going blotchy all over.

  “No, no, not at all,” Remy said smoothly, pouring on the charm.