Deadly Spirits

by Michelle Scott

  He shrugged modestly.

  She dipped a fry in ketchup. “You’re awfully quiet today. How are things? How’s school?”

  He didn’t want to lie, but he wasn’t eager to tell the truth, either. Instead, he shrugged. “I gave up, at least for a while. I wanted to finish the semester, but I can’t concentrate on my classes.”

  “I don’t blame you,” she said. “You have a lot on your plate.”

  He sighed, relieved that she wasn’t going to lecture him. Still, he hadn’t told her the real reason he’d dropped out, and withholding information seemed too much like lying. The last thing he wanted to do was lie to his best friend.

  He cleared his throat. “There’s this other thing, though.”

  She kept her eyes on her plate. “The collecting souls thing. Please tell me you’re not doing that.”

  “No,” he said firmly. “But there is something else.” Haltingly, he told her about Christian and Sophie, Denise and the December massacre. By the time he’d finished, she was staring at him, appalled.

  “Is this for real? You think Denise is a killer?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the massacre?”

  “Also real,” he admitted miserably. “I’ve seen it in my dreams. Sophie saw it, too. At least a dozen people will die if Christian and I don’t stop it.”

  “Then you have to tell someone!” she said. “You can’t keep this to yourself!”

  He tensed, worried there would be another argument. Keeping calm, he said, “We will, but we need more proof. If we go to the cops without evidence, they won’t listen.”

  Cara pushed away her plate of half-eaten food. “First, you’re telling me that Death told you to collect souls, and now you’re saying that you’ve had some vision about a mass shooting! It’s crazy!”

  “Are you saying that I’m crazy?” he asked carefully. Cara knew his history better than anyone, and she also knew how much he hated the word ‘crazy.’ Especially when applied to him.

  “I don’t know what to think,” she confessed. “I know you see ghosts, but my God, this is way beyond that!”

  He wished he could make her understand. She’d always believed him and had never once questioned his second sight. But there were times when she couldn’t conceive of his abilities. If only she could experience it for herself! Then she’d understand.

  He fought for patience. “I know it sounds terrible.”

  “You have no idea!” Her brown eyes were filled with concern. “I think this thing with David has derailed you.” Ethan made a noise of disgust and looked away, but she grabbed his hand and hung on. “You have no idea how much I worry about you. Tessa does, too. We both think you’re in danger of falling apart.”

  He’d heard enough and looked for the waitress in order to get the bill. In fact, forget the bill. He snatched a twenty from his wallet and put them on the table. “See you around,” he muttered to Cara.

  “Don’t do this!” She insisted. “You always want to run off when things get heavy.”

  “Can you blame me?” His eyes blazed. “You’re attacking me!”

  “No, I’m trying to make sense of this,” she said. “First you say this Christian guy kidnapped you, but now you’re talking like he’s your best friend.” She anxiously tugged at her ponytail. “Remember a few years ago when I was dating that loser Craig, and you called me out on it? I didn’t want to hear what you were saying, but you were right. The guy was horrible. I have the scar to prove it.” She pointed to her right eyebrow where a thin scar was just visible against her brown skin.

  It was a good point, one that he couldn’t argue against. Bad boyfriend aside, Cara was the most level-headed, rational person he knew. Even when they’d been kids, she was the one who had always given solid advice. He needed to trust her now, even if he didn’t want to.

  “What do you suggest?” he finally asked.

  “Can I talk to Christian myself?” she asked. “See what he’s about?”

  Ethan shrugged, then finally surrendered with a nod. “Sure.” Hopefully, Christian would persuade her.

  She sighed, relieved, and managed a smile. “It isn’t that I don’t believe you, or think you’re mental. But I also can’t condone this…witch hunt.”

  The waitress finally came by with the bill, and Ethan paid it. When they stood to leave, Cara once again hugged him tightly. “I love you, you know. I just want what’s best.”

  “The same for you,” he said. He always had.

  While Cara headed out to the parking lot, Ethan went to the restroom. When he finally left, he spotted Cara’s car still parked in its space. He hurried over, wondering if she’d had car trouble. He found her in the middle of the lot, collecting copies of a leaflet very similar to the ones he and Christian had discovered a few days ago. These colorful flyers, however, read, “White is right.”

  “Can you believe this bullshit?!” Cara demanded when Ethan came up to her.

  “Insane,” he agreed. Immediately, he started helping her grab flyers from underneath windshield wipers.

  “Sometimes, people disgust me,” she said. “I don’t even want to touch these things.”

  They made their way across the parking lot, towards Rendezvous. They’d made it most of the way when Ethan spotted the same man from the day before, the one who had been handing out the flyers. Furious, Ethan charged towards him. “You! Did you do this?”

  The man nervously adjusted his glasses, but held his ground. “You can’t prove it. You didn’t see me.”

  “I know it was you,” Ethan said. As he pulled his phone from his pocket, he studied the man’s face, so that he could ID him later if necessary.

  The man sneered. “You’re calling the cops?” As he stepped closer, he lifted the hem of his jacket, revealing a gun.

  Ethan backpedaled, coming up against a large, parked truck. “Put that away,” he managed.

  “Ethan!” It was Cara, coming to check on him.

  The gunman waved her away. “Stay back,” he ordered.

  “Cara, walk away,” Ethan said softly. He was afraid that even the slightest noise would trigger this man.

  “Are you two lovebirds?” the man taunted. “Do you know how unnatural that is?”

  “Put the gun away,” Cara said.

  “I don’t have it drawn,” the man argued. He grinned as he approached. There was lunacy in those eyes. “Besides, I have a right to carry it. In fact, I have a right to all the guns I own.”

  Ethan sidestepped, putting himself between Cara and the man. Ghosts were terrifying, but this was another matter altogether. Ethan couldn’t tear his eyes away from the gun. He had to summon that power he’d released back in the parking garage!

  The man flicked his eyes at Cara. “You people don’t deserve to be in my country. You should go back to where you came from.”

  “You mean Michigan?” she asked sourly.

  Ethan dug down inside, hunting for the spark that had triggered his powers at the parking garage. The raw emotions of fear and anger were there, but something was missing. He was like a bomb without a fuse. Frustrated by his impotence, he reached deeper, but still came up empty. There was nothing to trigger his energy.

  “Let’s go, Ethan,” Cara said. She tried to turn aside, but the gunman sidestepped, blocking her way.

  “You aren’t going anywhere,” he said with a grin.

  Ethan put himself between Cara and the gunman. “Leave her alone!” If ever he needed backup, it was now. Christian would have sent this guy packing. Or, even better, that nightmare snake that Mr. Midnight had conjured up.

  Conjured up… Suddenly, Ethan knew what to do. “PHIL!” he shouted.

  The gunman laughed. “Who the hell is Phil?”

  He was still laughing when a flash of white knocked the gunman off his feet. Phil the butcher sat on the gunman’s chest, a bloody meat cleaver held above his head. The gunman howled in fear and tried to buck Phil off, but the ghost only laughed. “You want to hurt my frien
d?” he demanded. “How about I take a chunk of meat off of your head?” The cleaver whizzed frightfully close to the gunman’s nose.

  “Hold up, Phil!” Ethan cried. “Don’t kill him!”

  “I should,” Phil said. “Maybe he’d like it in hell.” He stretched his face until his eyes nearly popped from their sockets and his mouth became a grotesque hole. “What do you say?” he asked

  The gunman whimpered and threw his arms up over his eyes while Cara grabbed Ethan by the back of the coat and tried to haul him away. “Run!” she cried.

  “It’s just Phil,” Ethan told her. “He owes me one.”

  Though it was amusing to watch Phil torment the gunman, Ethan wasn’t about to let the ghost drag him to the other side. “Let this be a warning,” Ethan told the gunman. “If you ever come back here, I’m sending more of these after you. And next time, I won’t hold them back.” He nodded at Phil who climbed off the man’s chest. Immediately, the gunman fled, once again crossing the six lanes of traffic without pausing.

  “Thanks,” Ethan told Phil. “I really appreciate it.”

  Phil’s face folded back to its original shape, and he grinned. “I was right to keep my eye on you. You’ve gotten yourself into some trouble lately, haven’t you?”

  Cara still had a death grip on Ethan’s coat. “I can’t believe this,” she whispered.

  “Believe it, honey,” Phil said. “Although, next time, I won’t be around to help you,” he told Ethan. “You’ll have to collect more souls if you’re going to go up against guys like that.” He started to fade from sight.

  “Wait!” Ethan cried. “What do you mean?”

  “Souls,” Phil said impatiently. “Don’t you know they power you up?” He was nearly gone from sight, hardly more than a wisp of fog. “The more you collect, the greater your power.”

  So that’s why Ethan had been able to destroy Mr. Midnight’s nightmare! The soul of the young woman that he’d collected had given him the ability to do so. It also explained why he’d been so powerless since. The more he collected, the more powerful he’d be. He wasn’t sure if the idea delighted or terrified him.

  Cara’s eyes were huge. “Who are you?” she asked him. “It’s like I don’t even know you any more.”

  He shrugged. He hardly knew himself.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Ethan and Cara gave statements to the police, but Ethan could tell that there wasn’t much hope in catching the man who had threatened them. He could only hope that Phil had scared the man enough to keep him on the straight and narrow. At least for a while.

  The next day, David was moved back home. To Ethan’s relief, David’s parents didn’t raise a fuss when he moved into David’s house. Ethan was pretty sure that this was Tessa’s doing. Or, more likely, her husband Grant’s. A self-made millionaire several times over, Grant was a force to be reckoned with. Ethan was just happy that, this time at least, he was on Grant’s good side.

  David was set up in a high-tech hospital bed that no doubt cost more than Ethan’s car. Luckily, his bedroom was large enough for the addition of another, single bed. Ethan now could watch over his boyfriend while enjoying some comfort.

  Christian had been a help in putting the arrangement into place. He’d helped Ethan pack up his apartment and move boxes and furniture into David’s house. When he saw David lying in the bed, he shook his head sadly, but to Ethan’s relief, said nothing. He put his large hand on Ethan’s shoulder as they stood silently by David’s bedside, then went to unpack boxes.

  The next few days passed slowly. Ethan spent the long hours reading out loud to David and playing his guitar. Tessa came by frequently, and Cara nearly as often. Both of them silently listened to Ethan’s insistence that he’d seen David’s fingers twitch or his toes flex. He knew that they didn’t believe him. It was written plainly on their faces that they’d given up hope.

  Now that he was marooned in David’s bedroom, Ethan wondered if he should go back to collecting souls in order to save his boyfriend. In grimmer moments, he worried that David was past the point of no return. Every time Ethan read aloud or played another song, he searched David’s face for any flicker of change, but nothing ever happened.

  Nothing happened on the Denise front, either. Christian was growing more and more impatient, and every time Ethan talked to him, he sensed the rising tension. Robbie Larson, Denise’s other son, was as hard to track down as his mother. As much as he tried, Christian couldn’t find him on-line or in person. “How can he not exist?” Christian demanded. “No one in the twenty-first century is that off-grid.”

  Ethan could only offer weak encouragement to keep looking. Right now, he was too involved with David to help join the search.

  One morning, when Tessa found Ethan staring blankly at the pages of a novel, she threw his coat at his head. “Go outside,” she ordered. “The fresh air will do you some good.” She stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest like a mother whose son had been spending too much time with his video games.

  “I don’t have anywhere to go.” Now that he’d given up on school, he didn’t feel like facing the world.

  “Then I’ll give you a list of errands,” she said. “Don’t come back until they’re all done.” She jotted down a few items on a notepad and handed it over.

  Ethan glanced at the list. Written among things like ‘buy bread’ were activities like ‘get a massage’ and ‘go for a walk.’ He was about to argue, but Tessa’s face was as determined as a terrier’s when it found a rat. He could tell that she wasn’t going to let this go.

  Aggrieved, he zipped up his coat and grabbed his keys. “The nurse will be by at noon.”

  “I know,” she said.

  “And if something happens…”

  “I’ll call you right away,” she promised. She practically shoved him out the door. “Now go out and do something.”

  Feeling a little guilty, Ethan went for the massage first. After thirty minutes of being pummeled by the masseuse, he felt more invigorated than he had in weeks. On a whim, he stopped for coffee at his favorite shop and lingered over a latte while he cruised the Internet on his phone. Next on the list was a trip to the drug store to pick up his allergy medication.

  While he waited to get his prescription, he absently listened to the woman at the front of the line. She had a carton of Ensure on the counter in front of her and was asking the pharmacist about anti-nausea drugs. Only when the woman paid for her purchases and turned around did he recognize her. The moment he did, he ducked behind a display of vitamins before she could see him.

  It was Denise, looking older and more tired than the last time he’d seen her. She wore a threadbare wool coat and the same knitted beanie. She lugged the carton of Ensure like it was a 50-pound lead weight. Cautiously, Ethan followed her out to the parking lot.

  His heart pounded hard in his chest, and his palms were sweaty. He was desperate to talk to her, but wasn’t sure how to begin. Christian had said that she couldn’t be reasoned with, but Ethan wasn’t convinced. She was a mother, after all. Surely, he could make her have some compassion for her victims.

  He came up behind her as she was loading the carton into her trunk. “Denise. I want to talk to you.”

  She whirled faster than he would have expected. At first, her face remained blank, but then she blinked in surprise. “It’s you!” She slammed the trunk lid shut and hurried towards the driver’s side door, opening the locks with a flick of her finger against the key fob.

  Ethan acted without thinking, diving into the passenger’s seat before she was fully in the driver’s. When she opened her mouth to object, he grabbed her keys from her hand and thumbed the lock button. “Don’t talk,” he said. “Just listen.”

  “Don’t hurt me!” Her wild eyes searched the parking lot, looking for a savior. Seeing no one, she flew at him, all fists and fury. He grabbed her wrists and held them tightly in place. “Why can’t you leave me and Mikey alone?”

  “I know what you
do,” he said. “That you collect souls.”

  Her struggles suddenly ceased. Her gaze sharpened. “You’ve seen it, too, haven’t you? Death.”

  Ethan had to get this over as quickly as possible. If he could convince her to stop what she intended, that would lay the December massacre to rest. So, instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own. “Why would you do such a thing?”

  “What? Collect souls?” When he nodded, she said, “I have my reasons.”

  He applied a little pressure to her wrists. Not enough to do lasting damage, but enough to draw a squawk of pain. “Tell me.”

  “You’d hurt an old lady?!”

  He pressed again.

  “Okay,” she gasped. “I was promised something if I did it.”

  “What?”

  “Eternal life.”

  This was beyond what Ethan had expected. In fact, he was so surprised that he let go of her wrists. She immediately drew away, massaging her injured hands. “Death promised you eternal life?” he asked, unable to make sense of it. “That has to be a lie.”

  “It isn’t,” Denise said firmly. “Besides, it doesn’t even have to be eternal. Sixty years would be plenty.”

  “Plenty for what?” Ethan asked.

  “For me to see Mikey finish his own life.”

  Ethan had been right. Denise did think like a mother. “But why would you steal souls for that?” he asked.

  Instead of replying, she yanked the beanie from her head. Underneath, she was as bald as a cue ball. Suddenly, it all fell into place. Her unhealthy pallor. Her sunken eyes. She had cancer and was undergoing chemo. The prognosis was probably bad. For her son’s sake, she wanted to save her own life, even if it meant taking others’.

  “How long do you have?” Ethan asked.

  She looked away. “A couple of months.”

  So she’d been content to passively collect souls of the dying while she’d been healthy, but now that she was sick and her son’s future was in jeopardy, she was going on the offensive. “How many souls do you need to collect?” he asked, dreading the answer.