Deadly Spirits

by Michelle Scott

  Christian considered this. “You know, her son is the one we really need to talk to. He might give us the answers we need.”

  “I don’t know.” Even though Mikey was technically an adult, putting pressure on him would be like bullying a kid. “Are we that desperate?”

  “I keep saying that you don’t have to be a part of this.”

  “And I keep telling you that I do,” Ethan countered. “But threatening a disabled man isn’t something I’m fine with.”

  Christian looked offended. “Who said I’m going to threaten him? All I want is to ask a question or two. Look,” he said when Ethan didn’t reply, “I knew going in that this would turn out to be a messy job. I’d much rather forget the whole thing and go back to my PI business. But I can’t. I have too much faith in Sophie.”

  Ethan had faith in Sophie, too. Not just because of the journals, although they helped. No, it was also because he’d seen the same thing in his own dreams. He couldn’t sit idly by while Christian went off by himself to stop the massacre. “Okay, we’ll talk to him,” Ethan said. “But we’re going to treat him like a kid. No threats. No intimidation. Just a simple conversation.”

  “I’m hurt that you’d even think I’d intimidate him,” Christian groused.

  “You’re intimidating even when you aren’t trying,” Ethan said.

  Christian flashed a grin and flexed his biceps. “I won’t argue that I’m an impressive specimen.”

  Ethan smiled but rolled his eyes. Though, secretly he agreed. Christian was an impressive specimen.

  While David lay motionless in his hospital bed, Ethan regaled him with how he’d blown apart Mr. Midnight’s nightmare. “It was amazing! The entire parking structure shook. I was really bad ass, if I do say so myself.” He took David’s hand. “I wish you’d been there.”

  Slowly, the afterglow faded, and Ethan grew acutely aware of the sounds of the respirator and monitor. The room was too empty. For the first time since the accident, he was sure that he was only talking to himself. A wave of emotion broke over him, leaving him beached on an island of loneliness and despair.

  “I’m just tired,” he said aloud to no one. And hungry. He’d never gotten his candy bars from the store, and now he felt hollow. He squeezed David’s hand and went to the nurses’ station down the hall.

  “Is there anywhere I can get some food?” he asked.

  The young woman behind the desk smiled sympathetically. “The cafeteria’s closed, but there are a few vending machines down there. Believe it or not, the sandwiches aren’t too bad.”

  Ethan thanked her and made his way down to the first floor. He didn’t pass a soul. The entire hospital seemed snowed-in by sleep. The cafeteria dining room was wreathed in shadows, the only light coming from the quartet of vending machines. Ethan dug in his pockets for change while he studied his options.

  A familiar chill raised the hairs on the back of his neck while a black shadow sucked out the little light in the room. Ethan whirled around to find Death staring at him. As much as he wanted to be brave, his blood quickened. His leg muscles tensed, begging him to run.

  You’re not collecting souls. The shadow came so close that a wisp of it brushed against Ethan’s arm. The touch was electric, almost as bad as Christian’s Taser. Ethan backpedaled into the snack machines which flickered and went dark. Now, the only light came from the exit sign near the door.

  You need to collect souls to realize your full potential. The last word came out like the moan of wind over a frozen lake.

  Ethan glared at it. The thing was intimidating, but he had learned something from his adventures that night: he had powers, too. He had broken Mr. Midnight’s dream apart. He had shaken and entire parking structure. He might not be Death’s equal, but he sure as hell was done being its bitch.

  “Do your own dirty work,” he growled at it. “I’m finished with you.”

  Bring me souls, and I will reward you.

  “Why?” Ethan demanded. “Why do you need me?”

  My reasons are my own.

  “If you want them, you better start talking.”

  It’s not for me, but for you.

  Ethan ground his teeth. It was like talking to the magic 8 ball. All cryptic answers and no logic. “Forget it,” he said. “I’m done being your errand boy.”

  Don’t you want to save David?

  “Not like that.”

  I could take him right now, and there would be nothing you could do about it.

  Ethan swallowed. Was that true? Did Death have the ability to take people when it wasn’t their time? Or was this just an empty threat? “Is it really David’s time to go?” Ethan asked.

  The shadow shivered but didn’t reply.

  Encouraged, Ethan stood up straighter. “Who’s your boss?” he demanded. “Who decides who has to cross over and who doesn’t?”

  As if cowed, Death shrunk into itself. The tendrils of shadow curled inward, and the room grew slightly brighter.

  “You don’t have any say in it, do you?” Ethan crowed. “You’re at the mercy of your masters!” He advanced as Death cowered. “In fact, I may be your master! I’m a necromancer, after all.”

  A silent explosion knocked Ethan across the room. He tumbled head over heels and landed upside-down in a heap against the wall. As he struggled to right himself, tables and chairs were flung aside as Death raced towards him. “Shit!” Ethan cried. He scrambled aside to avoid the collision.

  You dare to challenge me?! You worthless pup. Your mortal flesh is mine!

  Ethan tried to summon the power he’d felt before. Drawing from deep within, he summoned a spark of energy and tried to fan it into a flame. Before he could, Death grabbed him by the feet and swung him through the air. Ethan grunted as he landed. Any hope of summoning his newfound powers was gone. Even if he had the strength to do it, Ethan was sure Death would always have the upper hand. It would be like facing down an army tank with a pea shooter.

  “Stop!” Ethan tried for the same commanding tone he’d used in the parking structure, but his voice was as weak as an old man’s.

  Death let go, and Ethan dropped to the ground with a grunt. Invisible hands yanked at his arms and legs and held him fast. He was now spread eagle on the ground and unable to move. Terrified, he wrestled against the force holding him, but it was useless.

  You are my slave. You serve me. A finger of blackness reached towards Ethan’s heart.

  “I’m sorry,” Ethan babbled. “I won’t challenge you again.”

  The finger stopped moving.

  “But I can’t collect souls. Not for you or anyone else.”

  Ethan cringed, certain that Death would reach into his chest and pluck his soul like a child plucking a grape from a vine. Images of his life - his first day of school, getting his first guitar for his birthday, meeting David - flashed through his mind. This was it. He’d reached the moment of his death. He could only pray that he’d done right by his life.

  Slowly, the bonds holding his wrists and ankles loosened. Death’s shadow softened into shadowy, gray. Even the vending machines hummed back into life. Ethan blinked uncertainly. Had he called Death’s bluff? Had he won?

  You don’t know what you’re saying. Death’s voice was faint. Once you taste your power, you will continue serving me. It might have been an echo in Ethan’s own head.

  Ethan sat up and buried his face in his knees as his heart rate slowed. He was alive, but Death had won the round. He was sure of it. His own power was no match for the Angel.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  “Didn’t sleep last night, huh?” Christian asked when he picked up Ethan the next morning.

  Ethan wasn’t sure if it was his tangle with Mr. Midnight, or his thrashing from Death, but he felt like he’d been run over by a bus. His head ached, and his eyes were gritty. There were several plum-sized bruises on his back from where he’d landed on a cafeteria table. “I’m barely alive,” he said, then winced at his choice of words.

&
nbsp; “Coffee will get you right in no time.” Christian was too jovial for Ethan to handle. When Christian turned on the radio and started whistling along to Dock of the Bay, Ethan snapped it back off. “You’re in a mood,” Christian groused.

  “You would be too, if Death had nearly beaten you to a pulp.” As Ethan told his story, Christian grew more and more concerned.

  “You shouldn’t have taunted it like that,” he said. “You pissed it off.”

  “It pissed me off,” Ethan said. He rubbed his forehead. He’d taken a dose of ibuprofen an hour before, but his headache remained. Even the hot water from his morning shower hadn’t loosened his tension. What he really needed was one of David’s magical shoulder rubs. “It wants souls; I want answers.” He glanced at out the window at rush hour traffic. “Remind me where we’re going.”

  “To see Mikey,” Christian said.

  “How did you find him?” Ethan asked, surprised.

  “Quite easily, as a matter of fact. His Facebook page is full of pictures.”

  Ethan brought up the Facebook app on his phone, and within minutes found Mike Larson’s page. Mike towel-dried vehicles at a local car wash, and most of his posts on Facebook showed him proudly standing next to some of the more impressive cars he’d dried. The latest was of him posing with a red, Fiat 124 Spider. Seeing Mikey’s happy grin put a lump in Ethan’s chest. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he and Christian were preying on an innocent.

  It was nearing eight in the morning, an hour before Mikey’s car wash would open. Ethan and Christian stopped by a gas station for coffee and donuts then sat in Christian’s SUV, keeping watch across the street. Ethan continually consulted his phone, wanting news of David. When Tessa finally did text him, the message was brief. D’s being moved late this afternoon. I’ll keep you posted.

  “Any more news on the boyfriend front?” Christian asked.

  “They’re moving him home,” Ethan said.

  “You don’t look very happy about it.”

  When he’d been cleaning David’s house the night before, Ethan had been full of hope. But the night had taken its toll, and now his spirits had sunk once more. “It’s like they’ve given up on him ever getting better,” he confessed. “Like they’re sending him home to die.”

  Ethan expected Christian to tell him to have faith, but to his surprise, Christian said, “Sometimes you have to let them go.” His tone was wistful.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ethan demanded. “I’m not letting him go!”

  “I didn’t mean it needs to happen right away,” Christian quickly assured him. “It’s just that, sometimes, things get beyond the point of no return.”

  “I’m not giving up hope.” Ethan angrily bit off every word. “Not until it really is the end.”

  Christian shrugged and sipped his coffee.

  Ethan glared out the window while he drank his own coffee. Why was everyone giving up hope? There was still time for David to make a recovery. Sure, it might be a long haul, and David might struggle, but that’s what physical therapy was for. Ethan fully expected that, within a few months, David would be out of his coma and working his way towards full recovery.

  Christian turned the radio back on, but thankfully didn’t start whistling again. To pass time while they waited, Ethan used his phone to bring up the files that had been stored on Sophie’s USB drive. The one he was currently reading related to death myths and fairy tales.

  Christian glanced over and frowned. “You’re obsessing like Sophie used to, you know. You’re turning into a ghoul.”

  “I can’t help but wonder why the Angel wants me to gather souls for it,” Ethan said. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Just be careful,” Christian said.

  Ethan nodded absently and kept reading. According to Sophie, necromancers not only spoke to the dead, they were also able to command them. She’d read accounts of necromancers raising the dead back to life and even calling up armies of the dead to fight battles. She also claimed that they could visit the otherworld, and with a lot of practice, they could work dark magic. He wondered how much of this was based in truth and how much was merely wishful thinking. He couldn’t imagine himself ever raising an army of the dead. Although, admittedly, it was cool to think about.

  The next document he opened was about Charon, the ferryman on the River Styx who brought souls into Hades. Providing they could pay the toll, that was. There was something about the story, especially the boat and its oars, that reminded him of something else he’d read earlier. Something about a ferryman from a Grimm’s fairy tale. Before he could figure out what it was, however, Christian elbowed him. “Look. There he is.”

  Mikey stood at the front of the car wash next to a table piled with clean towels. He wore an engaging smile, white teeth flashing against his dark skin. He looked as if nothing made him happier than being at work. Christian drove across the street and pulled into the bay of the car wash. He paid the attendant and put the SUV into neutral. Soon, they were rolling through the tunnel of sprayers and brushes.

  “Remember,” Ethan said, raising his voice above the noise of the car wash, “no intimidation.” He considered this. “In fact, let me do the talking.”

  “Go for it,” Christian said, sounding annoyed.

  When they exited the building, a grinning Mikey walked up to the car and began toweling it off. Ethan rolled down his window. “Hey, Mike.”

  The moment Mike saw who it was, his grin turned into wide-eyed fear. “I know you! You were in my mom’s house!”

  “I just want to talk a minute,” Ethan said. He offered his most non-threatening smile. “Can I ask you a question.”

  Mike backed away, holding up his hands as if Ethan meant to hit him. “Go away!”

  Christian leaned across Ethan. “How about I give you twenty dollars to answer one question?”

  Mikey blinked. “Twenty dollars?”

  “That’s right.” Christian took a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet and held it out. “Think of all the McDonald’s that would buy you.”

  Mikey took a cautious step forward. “I like Burger King better.”

  “Burger King then,” Christian said. When Mikey held out his hand, Christian gave him the bill.

  “Hey!” A man in a blue coverall marched from the building. “Mikey? What’s going on? We’re getting a back-up here.”

  “S-sorry,” Mikey stuttered. “These guys wanted me to answer a question.”

  The man in the coverall glared at Ethan and Christian. “What’s going on?” he demanded. “Why are you asking questions?”

  “Just one question,” Mikey corrected.

  “You don’t have to answer that,” the man told him. Then, to Christian and Ethan, he snapped, “I don’t want to see you two back here bothering Mikey. You tell that brother of his to leave him alone.”

  “Brother?” Ethan asked. “I didn’t know he had a brother.”

  The man in the coverall frowned. “Robbie? You don’t know him?” When Ethan shook his head, the man said, “Robbie’s a no good bast…” He glanced at Mikey. “A no good jerk. Always causing trouble for his mom and brother. I thought you two might be with him. Mikey’s a good kid. I don’t want to see him get hurt. Now, what was that question you wanted to ask him?”

  Christian glanced at Ethan who nodded slightly. They’d just gotten all of the information they needed. They didn’t have to bother Mikey any more.

  “Can he detail the rims?” Christian asked.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Christian dropped Ethan off at his apartment, and Ethan immediately went to bed. He slept a blissful five hours and woke refreshed for the first time in days.

  After a long, hot shower, he wiped steam from the mirror and gave himself a once over. There were still dark circles under his eyes, and he’d lost weight. Four pounds, according to the scale. Most people wouldn’t have minded the weight loss, but Ethan had always been on the scrawny side, and had been teased in high
school over his general lack of brawn. He worried about losing any more weight.

  The last thing he checked was the death tattoo on his chest. Once he saw it, his heart lifted. The triangle was still there, but the hash mark that had appeared after the collection of his first soul was gone! It had faded overnight. Maybe Christian had been right. Maybe the brand would disappear. Ethan could only hope.

  Encouraged, Ethan he took pains to look presentable. He hadn’t felt like himself in weeks, and fussing with his hair and taming his wild beard gave him a sense of normalcy. When he finished, he stepped away from the mirror for a critical look. His clothes and hair were on point for the first time in over a week. He nodded, satisfied and went to make himself something to eat.

  He was looking in the cupboard when Cara called him. “Can you meet me for a late lunch?” She asked. “I don’t like how we left things the other day.”

  He was touched. He’d been so consumed with thoughts about David and the December massacre that the argument with Cara had become part of the background noise. “The coney island near my place? Fifteen minutes?”

  She agreed, and twenty minutes later, she was greeting him with a warm hug. “You look like your old self,” she said, sitting back down. “Runway perfect.”

  “You look great, too,” he said. The last time they’d talked, she’d been glaring at him and nearly shouting. It was good to see her smiling again.

  For a while, they made small talk, each of them was too nervous to be open about their terrible argument. Cara filled him in on her obsession with the latest fitness craze while Ethan smiled and nodded. When the waitress came for their orders, Ethan ordered a gyro while Cara went for a coney dog and fries. “I just came from the gym,” she said, sounding embarrassed. “I figure I deserve this.”

  “No judgment, I promise.”

  “Besides, they have the best food in the city. Remember how we used to go to clubbing at Rendezvous then walk down here for breakfast?”

  He laughed. “Good times.”

  Cara started singing We Are Family which she had once dubbed Ethan’s theme song. “You used to kill with that song on karaoke night.”