Raising the Dead

by D. B. Sieders

  Jeanne stood, blazing, and spoke with a voice Vivian had never heard before.

  “Vivian Bedford, you may be a different sort of mortal, but mortal you are. There are things you do not yet understand and, whether you choose to believe in them or not, you must respect the rules and the nature of our realm or—”

  “Or what?” Vivian asked, standing. If the room was a sauna before, Vivian’s added heat turned it into an inferno. “You’ll kill me? Reap my soul and make me work on the chain gang of eternity? That’s what your friend Uriel implied. Seems like I’m in the irons already, so what was my crime? Who are any of you to act as judge and jury?”

  Jeanne didn’t speak or strike, so Vivian continued her tirade. “I am mortal, yes, but I’ve seen how your kind operate. I know enough to understand that you aren’t so different from us. You help some souls but you like to leave others hanging out to dry, like Junior and all of those lost souls down in Nolensville. What did Junior ever do wrong besides feel terrible about losing his little brother?”

  “It isn’t so easy to make things right. I can’t just snap my fingers and cross Junior over, or make someone do the right thing instead of the wrong thing, or make you behave. But we are not the same. We—”

  “The only difference I see between guardians and humans is just that guardians have more firepower.” She held up her hands and let the spirit energy spark out of her fingertips, brighter and more powerful than before. Then she leveled her gaze on Jeanne’s and said, “But then again, so do I.”

  Jeanne’s gaze went wide with surprise, and perhaps a lick of fear. “Vivian, you don’t want to go down this road. I’m telling you, if you make more trouble and start abusing your power, rogue guardians are going to be the least of your worries.”

  The temperature was near unbearable, but Vivian refused to back down. Jeanne, Ezra, and all of the other guardians charged with protecting her seemed to spend more time ordering her about and warning her of the dangers of her powers and situation than actually solving any problems. And now, on top of that, Jeanne wanted her to put her faith in some sort of afterlife probation and community service program? Vivian wondered if she herself was a part of such a program, even though she was still living.

  What had she ever done that was so terrible? And who were the dead to decide?

  Jeanne sighed and backed down first. She walked over to the kitchen sink, ran a dishtowel under the faucet, and tossed it to Vivian, who was covered in sweat. Jeanne remained dry, of course. Lucky her.

  Vivian mopped her face and the back of her neck and muttered, “Thanks.”

  After about five minutes of literal cool down, she hoped their bad little moment had passed. She figured she’d hit the shower and take care of the rest. It was going to be a busy day. Manicure and pedicure at eleven followed by a ladies’ lunch. The mean part of Vivian was looking forward to seeing Sarah again. After that, they needed to pick up their dresses and transport them to Scarritt Bennett, and once they arrived, they needed to make certain most of the decorations were in place. The flowers would be delivered on the day of the wedding and Sarah was in charge of overseeing their placement. Sue put Sarah in charge to keep her busy so she wouldn’t annoy Vivian. No doubt Sue wanted to keep Big Sis out of her own hair as well.

  No doubt Sarah would be happy to stay out of Vivian’s way after their last encounter.

  After scrubbing herself, shaving, and drying her hair, Vivian made her way back to the kitchen. Jeanne was gone, at least physically, for which Vivian was grateful. She could appear at any moment or if Vivian happened to call, but it was nice to be alone. Vivian hadn’t realized until now how much she’d missed her privacy. She wasn’t antisocial, but it would be nice to have the option to mingle with the living or dead on her own terms and schedule. Now she had a few hours to kill before the hustle and bustle of the day began.

  She grabbed a cup of coffee and went to her living room, intent on catching up on the news while she calmed down. She was about to plop her rear end down when she noticed a slip of paper sticking out from between the cushions. She picked up the note and read it.

  BriggsonfireMS2010 Online ID. You wanted to meet someone like you, so here’s how to find him.

  She remembered, then, that Jeanne had given her the note when they caught Junior. Jeanne must have put it back in plain view before she left. Vivian stared at the note for about fifteen minutes while she let her coffee sink in and then grabbed it, sat down behind her desktop, and set about loading her IM and creating an ID before she changed her mind.

  After about thirty minutes and ten tries for a unique ID, she sent a request for contact to this mystery man. She didn’t expect much, since most normal people would already be at work on a Friday morning. To her surprise, however, she received a message about five minutes later.

  BriggsonfireMS2010: Good morning.

  HauntedVivTN1975: Hello.

  Vivian stared at the screen for a moment, wondering how she was supposed to start a conversation about seeing dead people. If Jeanne was right about him, then he saw them, too, and shouldn’t be fazed at all. If not, he’d think she was nuts. While she was musing, another IM popped onto her screen.

  BriggsonfireMS2010: You still there?

  HauntedVivTN1975: Yes. I was just thinking about how to start this conversation.

  BriggsonfireMS2010: *I see dead people. They’re everywhere.*

  HauntedVivTN1975: Very funny.

  BriggsonfireMS2010: I was whispering, too. Pulled the covers up to my neck and everything.

  HauntedVivTN1975: You’re in bed?

  BriggsonfireMS2010: Laptops are handy. You should get one.

  I’ll just bet they are. Hoping he wasn’t a pervert or serial killer, Vivian decided to dive right in.

  HauntedVivTN1975: I got your contact information from a local guardian. You know them, too?

  BriggsonfireMS2010: Yes. My guardian friends told me someone might be in touch. How long you been in the know?

  HauntedVivTN1975: About a year. Long story. I work with them. Today I wish I didn’t.

  BriggsonfireMS2010: LOL—I understand. Been there myself. I’d be interested in getting your story sometime.

  HauntedVivTN1975: I’d like to know yours, too. Have you had any trouble with them?

  BriggsonfireMS2010: Trouble?

  Vivian thought for a moment. It was a risk, of course, confiding in a stranger. A human stranger might be in more jeopardy than a spirit should he become a target. Of course, Jeanne wanted Vivian to contact him, and she probably had more than one reason. She decided to test the waters and let him decide.

  BriggsonfireMS2010: You still there?

  HauntedVivTN1975: Yeah, just thinking. I don’t want to put you in the middle of some bad stuff. It might not be safe for you.

  BriggsonfireMS2010: OK. I should tell you that I met the guardians while serving in Afghanistan. Almost got blown up by an IED when they showed up. Had a few scrapes on account of them since then. That’s the CNN version.

  HauntedVivTN1975: Soldier? I get it. You can take care of yourself.

  BriggsonfireMS2010: I hold my own. What’s the deal?

  HauntedVivTN1975: Rogue guardian. Doesn’t like me interfering with their business. Tried to hurt a friend of mine to make me stop.

  BriggsonfireMS2010: Why aren’t the guardians on top of this?

  HauntedVivTN1975: Not sure. Say they’re working on it, but they don’t tell me much.

  She paused again, and then decided she might as well be straight with him. It was strange, but this form of communication lent itself well to candor. Maybe it was because she didn’t really know the guy, or maybe because she couldn’t see him. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t in the mood to be coy.

  HauntedVivTN1975: Someone from the other team is helping me.

  BriggsonfireMS2010: Reaper?

  HauntedVivTN1975: Yeah. Long story.

  BriggsonfireMS2010: Must be a good one. Tell me sometime?

  HauntedViv1
975: Sure. Hey, what do you do, by the way?

  BriggsonfireMS2010: Besides hang out with the dead?

  HauntedViv1975: Yes, smartass. Are you still military?

  BriggsonfireMS2010: Army reserve. Not active. Firefighter now. You?

  HauntedViv1975: Finance.

  BriggsonfireMS2010: Business OK in this economy?

  HauntedViv1975: OK. Enough to get me by.

  BriggsonfireMS2010: Married? Kids?

  HauntedViv1975: Personal question.

  BriggsonfireMS2010: Don’t have to answer. Just making convo.

  HauntedViv1975: No and no. You?

  BriggsonfireMS2010: Nah. Situation isn’t conducive to it.

  HauntedViv1975: Lonely?

  BriggsonfireMS2010: Sometimes.

  HauntedViv1975: Me too. Glad I’m not alone in all this, you know?

  BriggsonfireMS2010: Yeah, I know.

  HauntedViv1975: Where are you?

  BriggsonfireMS2010: Jackson, Mississippi. Not too far off, Tennessee girl.

  HauntedViv1975: Tennessee woman! By way of Nashvegas.

  BriggsonfireMS2010: I stand corrected. Still friends?

  HauntedViv1975: I’ll let it slide just this once. Gotta go now. Best friend getting married tomorrow. Chat soon?

  BriggsonfireMS2010: Sure. You take care of yourself now, Ms. Tennessee.

  HauntedViv1975: Vivian Bedford. I’ll try. You do the same.

  BriggsonfireMS2010: Sure thing, Vivian. Waylon Briggs signing off.

  HauntedViv1975: Bye.

  Vivian turned off her computer feeling much better than she had before her chat. She wondered if Waylon Briggs the fireman was tall, dark, and hotter than July? Giggling to herself at the prospect, she figured she’d find a way to dig out that information sometime in the next few chats. At the very least he’d made her smile. And she didn’t feel so alone.

  Another message popped up on her screen.

  You were warned, yet you persisted. There will be consequences.

  A lick of fear shot through her followed by anger. She let more sparks fly from her fingertips as she stared at the screen. Then, willing the energy back into her body, she typed a message back.

  Maybe you should be worried about consequences.

  A beat passed, then another message appeared.

  See you tonight.

  CHAPTER 17

  Vivian managed to relax after her nail treatments and lunch in spite of Sarah Harrow’s presence. She’d barely looked in Vivian’s direction and hadn’t spoken a word. If Sue or anyone else involved in the wedding found this strange, they didn’t let on. A twinge of guilt hit her for a few moments, but then she remembered the images that flashed through her mind—images of Sarah’s inner darkness and worst sins.

  Maybe she’d given the woman something to think about. Perhaps it was part of her penance, as Darkmore claimed.

  Moving on, she decided to put her talents to some genuine, unambiguous good uses.

  Sitting in the courtyard of Scarritt Bennett, she wasn’t sure exactly what she should be doing. Sarah was busy with the decorations, Boyd Clemmens was helping Jack and Jace the cheater carry stuff inside, and Sue was resting so her feet wouldn’t swell so much that her wedding shoes no longer fit. That left Vivian on her own. At least she’d been able to snag a cup of coffee from the nearby Front Porch gallery and coffee shop. She took it back out and sat in a small courtyard on the center’s grounds, admiring the view.

  Nestled between Vandy and Music Row, and sitting in the shadow of downtown, Scarritt Bennett center exuded an unexpected tranquility for such an urban setting. The high, Gothic towers and surrounding trees gave Vivian a sense of seclusion, and she fully expected Mr. Heathcliff to emerge from one of the high arched doors, or perhaps a monk might peer through one of the aged stained-glass windows. Come to think of it, one might just do that. She closed her eyes and tried not to dwell on any spirits who might choose to appear before her at any moment. She wanted to focus on the location and the pending nuptials. It was a great place for a wedding in spite of the fact that, typical for the Bible Belt, all events had to be alcohol-free. Hence, the reception that followed would be held elsewhere.

  Vivian pulled out a copy of some frou-frou girlie magazine she’d picked up from the nail bar, hoping that some light and mindless reading would take her mind off ghost-spotting while she waited to catch her target alone.

  Okay, calling this stuff mindless was pretty generous.

  She flipped past the sea of ads and obviously faked testimonials of sexual exploits that belonged in your average episode of Sex and the City rather than the annals of the average woman’s repertoire. Over-priced couture? Check. Celebutard interview? Check. Requisite article on how to give the best blowjob ever? Check. Seriously, how many variations did men need? In her experience, any technique guaranteed a big finish and a mountain of gratitude. If you were lucky, you might even enjoy reciprocity. She wondered if men’s magazines provided handy-dandy tips, too, but snorted at the notion. Still, some writer could sneak in an instructional article in between workout and auto maintenance pieces, right? Something along the lines of How to Toss Her Salad Like a Master Chef?

  She’d started daydreaming about firemen when Boyd Clemmens sat down next to her. Finally. Now was her chance to talk to the man in her crosshairs.

  He looked and smelled sweaty. The mean part of her figured that Jace hadn’t been pulling his weight, but it was probably just the fact that today’s forecast was sunny and unseasonably warm. Tennessee weather was tricky and fickle. You could have snowstorms that shut the city down in March followed by an eighty-degree surge two days later. Vivian was just glad that the last batch of tornadoes didn’t strike the city this time around. More torrential rains were in the forecast for tomorrow evening, but it shouldn’t affect the wedding or reception.

  “Hey, Viv,” Boyd said, wiping his brow. “Got a minute?”

  Do I ever. “Sure. Want me to grab you something cold to drink?”

  “Nah, we’ll be heading out for a bachelor dinner after this. Someplace with BBQ, beer, and no dress code.” He chuckled. Then he got serious, clearing his throat before he said, “I wanted to thank you for taking care of Kay and the kids the other night. I’m sorry you had to get involved in our private mess.”

  “You don’t have to apologize,” she said, her gaze turning hard. “Not to me and not for Kay.”

  Boyd sighed, “I guess you’ll be blaming me, too. Just like she does.”

  “I didn’t say that,” Vivian said, holding up her palms in the universal sign of “I come in peace.”

  “Well it sure seems that way,” he said, voice hoarse. He looked away and seemed ready to walk away.

  They were both on the defensive. That wouldn’t do anyone any good. Vivian decided the least she could do was to listen to Boyd’s side of the story. Maybe she could help him as well, depending on what he said and how he said it.

  “Look,” Vivian started again. “I didn’t mean to come across as judging you, okay? I love Kay and I don’t like to see her hurting. I know you don’t either. Did she talk to you at all? Tell you how she’s been feeling?”

  “Yeah,” Boyd said, staring off into the distance, his brows furrowed and face tight. He looked older, weary. Kay wasn’t the only one suffering it seemed. “It’s pretty much the same story every time. I’ve heard it at home and I hear it when I’m on the road and can’t do anything about it. I don’t know what she thinks I can do, anyway.”

  “What does she say?” Vivian asked.

  “That I don’t listen, that I’m not there when she needs me, that I don’t care. It’s not true, but I can’t sit around and cry with her when she gets like that. It won’t help. Besides, I’ve got to stay focused on the job and on getting home safe. It’s hard to do when she’s yelling in the phone. Sometimes…”

  “Sometimes what?” she asked. She wanted him to just say what he was thinking, even if she didn’t like it. She’d been there for Kay and liste
ned. It was the least she could do for Kay’s husband.

  “Sometimes I don’t even want to come home. I know it’s not right, but who wants to walk into a hornet’s nest? Does she really think I like being away from her and the kids? I mean, does she think I’m out partying and living the high life? I’m not doing this for fun and I’m sure as shit not doing this for my health. It’s my job. It’s how I put food on the table and keep a roof over our heads.”

  Vivian didn’t like it, but she could see his point. She didn’t relish listening, but maybe if he got his mad out with her then he wouldn’t have to take it out on Kay. And he was hurting, caught between what he saw as a man’s duty to provide and a stubborn man’s inability to give his wife what she needed—reassurance, understanding, compassion, and the dreaded sharing of feelings. The whole “men must be macho and swallow their feelings” thing really sucked.

  She sat in silence and let him rant.

  “She knew I worked on the road when we got married. I don’t know what she expected. It’s not like I can quit with all our mouths to feed, school clothes, ballet and soccer, college funds, you get the idea,” he said. Vivian nodded.

  “Besides, she’s the one who wanted a third, not me,” he added with some bitterness. He looked to Vivian for some reaction, but she’d shifted her features to neutral. She’d had a lot of practice with that over the past year.

  “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this,” he muttered.

  She shrugged. “I have one of those faces. People tell me all kinds of things. I’m a good listener. It’s my superpower.”

  A small smile ghosted across his face, then he blew out a long breath and said, “I love my son and nothing’s going change that, but it’s been hell since he was born and it’s not getting any better. Sometimes I think the only reason we’re together now is for the kids, but even that’s not going to be enough unless something changes.”

  “Do you love her?” Vivian asked.

  “Of course I do. But that’s not always enough.”