by Sonia Singh
She found Maddox with a large gash on his forehead in the cafeteria. He drifted in and out of consciousness, and it took a long time to get him outside. She left him there, propped up against the building.
There were five more people still inside the center—Scott, Eddie, Coulter, Vivica, and Hans—and one more floor to check. She headed upstairs, trailing her fingers along the railing and periodically looking down into the atrium of the lobby in case she’d missed somebody.
The odd singing started up again when she reached the top, followed by a loud screeching noise like the tearing of metal.
Too late she turned and saw the heavy metal light fixture disconnect from the ceiling and swing toward her.
51
She was hanging by a thread.
Or rather by the railing.
Struggling, she tried to pull herself up when a hand reached down, grasped her arm.
She found herself staring into Hans’s gray eyes as he hauled her to safety.
“The others,” she asked. “Where are they?”
He started walking. Anjali followed him.
They were heading toward the back of the building. Seeming to sense their presence, office doors banged open and shut, open and shut with so much force, she felt as though she were walking through a battle with cannon fire.
Hans led her into a room that looked like an observation deck. If it had been daylight, she would have been able to see the runway. A few lights blinked from the myriad of computer screens and systems. Otherwise the room was pitch dark.
She swung the flashlight around and gasped. Scott lay on the floor surrounded by shattered lights and ceiling debris. She ran to his side. His eyes opened and widened at the sight of her. “What are you doing here?”
She stroked the hair back from his brow. “I’ve come to rescue you.”
He tried to sit up and groaned. “I always did need saving.”
“Are you badly hurt?”
“I want to say yes…but no, I’m not.”
She helped him up and he leaned on her heavily, favoring his left side. “Eddie. His leg is bad.”
“Where is he?”
Scott pointed to a dark corner near the door, and she swung the beam there. Eddie had his back against the wall, his legs trapped under an immense metal cabinet. “I couldn’t move it,” Scott said.
“Hans, can you help?” she asked.
Scott raised his eyebrows. “Hans?”
“He saved my life. Don’t ask me why.”
Hans moved closer to Eddie, and the cabinet creaked and began to move. Slowly, it lifted off his leg and returned to an upright position.
Anjali went to Eddie; Scott followed, limping.
The flashlight illuminated Eddie’s bloodied leg and his gray-tinged complexion. “I knew there was a reason I didn’t trust the government,” he said. “I pay my taxes and for this?”
She touched his cheek. “Can you stand?”
“Not even if you paid me.”
She looked around but didn’t see Coulter. A cold feeling took root inside her. Her hand drifted to Eddie’s shoulder, and she looked up at Scott. “Where’s Coulter?”
The lights in the room came on. A whirring started up as the computers came to life.
Coulter stood in the doorway.
Or something that looked like Coulter.
He began to walk toward her. She froze. Beneath her hand, Eddie tensed.
The sharp sound of a gun being clicked broke the spell. Vivica stood behind Coulter, a gun trained on him. She looked wild, her eyes wide, the side of her face scratched, and took aim.
“No!” Anjali shouted. “Don’t kill him!”
“That’s the idea,” Vivica said. “He dies, the entity goes with him. It’s the only way.”
“This was your brilliant plan, Vivica?” Scott said. “Let the entity possess a body and then kill it?”
“I thought Hans could cast out the evil, but Hans isn’t being very obedient. So this is plan B. Can you think of a better idea? He has to die or that thing will kill us all.”
She took aim, but the gun went flying out of her hand. An invisible force slammed her back against the wall. Her eyes rolled shut, and she slid to the ground.
“What do we do?” Anjali whispered.
“You have a connection with Hans,” Scott said. “Together you might be able to cast that thing out.”
Anjali stood and held out her hand. “Hans?”
He came to her and she reached out and gripped his hand. Then she closed her eyes. She could feel Hans in her head—only this time she didn’t mind.
She reached out, trying to connect with Coulter.
Blackness surrounded her.
A giant void.
She could hear someone…Coulter screaming. It came from everywhere. Pouring out of his mind, into hers…
She tried the light. She envisioned the doorway, tried to push the entity through, but it was too strong.
Hans squeezed her hand. She opened her eyes and saw him. The dead soldier.
Hans was trying to tell her something and finally she understood. She gazed at the soldier, and he nodded.
It was the only way.
The soldier’s spirit invited the entity in. Coulter slumped to the floor.
The entity was now tied to a human spirit. And she knew what to do with spirits.
She envisioned the doorway filled with light.
It took all of her and Hans’s combined strength, but they pushed the spirit through.
The air grew warmer, and it was as if an unseen weight was lifted off the place.
Scott was kneeling beside Coulter. She crouched down beside them. “Coulter?”
He blinked at her. “What happened?”
She smiled. “You won’t believe it, but Hans saved the day. Along with one strong-willed soldier.”
“And a lot of help from Anjali,” Scott added.
In the corner, Vivica moaned and lifted a shaking hand.
Anjali looked at Scott. “Should we…?”
Scott gazed at Vivica for a long moment. “I think I’ll go check on Eddie.” Anjali watched him walk away.
“I’m confused.” Coulter blinked several times. “Did you say something about Hans saving me?”
“Yup.” Speaking of Hans, she wanted to thank him. She looked around the room but he was nowhere in sight. She closed her eyes and tried reaching out to him but it was no use.
He was gone.
From downstairs came the sound of booted feet hitting the floor. “The cavalry’s arrived,” Anjali said.
Coulter sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. “About damn time. I don’t mean to sound unpatriotic and all but Uncle Sam and I are partin’ ways.”
“You didn’t think this was an exciting adventure?” Anjali teased.
“Oh yeah,” he murmured. “Better than cable.”
52
“Scott, people are staring at me,” Anjali said.
“No they aren’t.”
Anjali stared at the crowd of her relatives filling the Bombay Exchange restaurant for her cousin Simran’s engagement party, and frowned. “Yes they are. Do you think they saw the article?”
The Bay Area Sentinel had published an op-ed piece about her. “Anjali Kumar: Psychic Guru or Quack?”
“Everyone knows the Sentinel is a tabloid,” Scott reassured.
“I need a drink.”
“You have one in your hand. We just came from the bar.”
She did indeed have a vodka tonic in her hand and took a sip. “If anyone asks, this is Sprite.”
“Your father is waving me over,” Scott said. “Will you be able to handle any inquisitive aunts who come your way?”
She looked over to where her dad was standing with a group of her uncles and indeed motioning to Scott.
“Be prepared to give out some more stock tips,” she warned.
“If only my own father were so easy to impress,” Scott said and went to join her dad.
Scott was with her at the time, and Anjali thought she’d die a slow and painful death from embarrassment.
No one from Scott’s family had made any such comments. She’d driven to Marin County to meet them, and pulling into the drive of their huge home in ultra-wealthy Belvedere, she’d felt like Gandhi taking on the British Empire.
Also because she’d fasted for days not wanting to look fat.
Either way they seemed to like her just fine.
Anjali downed the rest of her drink and headed for the restroom. She could feel her bindhi sliding down her forehead.
Unfortunately a woman stopped in Anjali’s path and stared. “I read that article about you,” she said. “Is it true?”
“That I’m a quack? No.”
“But anyone who thinks they can…” The woman’s voice trailed off as Zarina came up to them.
Her sister was wearing a pink sari. The gossamer material was embroidered in gold, and Zarina wore gold chandelier earrings and matching bracelets. Anjali had never seen her sister look so beautiful.
The look of annoyance she was familiar with.
Zarina glared at the woman and put her arm around Anjali. “She’s not crazy. She’s my sister.”
Anjali’s eyes widened, and she stared at Zarina in amazement.
“I never said…oh who cares.” The woman sniffed and walked away.
Anjali hugged her sister. “You mean that?”
“I can’t breathe,” Zarina gasped.
She quickly let go. “Sorry.”
Zarina put her hands on her narrow hips. “I’ve been evaluating my life lately, realizing what’s important to me. My marriage for one—that silly crush I had on your friend was just lust. Pure, unadulterated, pulse-pounding lust. And two—family. So, about this psychic business…”
Anjali held her breath. Her sister had defended her, but would it be too much to hope she accepted her as well?
Zarina continued, “Are you free next Saturday? Vijay’s mother wants to have you over. She wants to do a séance.”
“Séance?”
“Please?”
Anjali looked at her sister’s hopeful face and relented. “I’m free.”
Zarina smiled. “Thank you. If you ever need a favor, just ask.”
“There you girls are!” Mrs. Kumar moved toward them, elbowing people out of her way. “What were they thinking having the party in such a small place? Cheapskates.”
Anjali gasped. “Mom, they’ll hear you.”
“So what? I want to talk to you girls about something.”
“Like?” Zarina said a tad nervously.
Their mother pointed to a group of older women. “Look at them. Do you know I’m the only one of them without a grandchild?”
Anjali tried to distract her. “Mom, did you read that horrible article about me—”
“I don’t want to talk about ghosts. I want to talk about grandchildren.” Her voice started to rise. “Will I even have one before I die?”
“Mom, people are listening,” Zarina protested.
“God has blessed us with reproductive organs for a reason. Why not use them? You girls aren’t getting any younger.”
Anjali didn’t think her mother would be satisfied until her offspring repopulated the entire planet. She decided to make a break for it. “Mom, this conversation doesn’t really apply to me. I’m not even married. Zarina, on the other hand…”
Her sister’s mouth fell open.
Their mother turned the full power of her maternal gaze on Zarina. “Is Vijay not virile enough? He does seem to be on the weak side.”
Zarina’s mouth was still open. A gurgling sound emanated from it.
Mrs. Kumar scanned the room with a sharp look. “Where is that Vijay? I want to talk to him. I think it’s time the two of you came to Tempe. Everyone has grandchildren there. Such a happy place.”
Anjali smiled at her sister. “Call us even. See you at the séance.”
Humming to herself, she walked away.
53
“I’m sorry I missed your cousin’s party,” Coulter said from where he was sprawled on the sofa.
It was the following afternoon and they were all gathered in the firm’s den.
“You’re a famous man now,” Anjali teased. “You had to meet with your agent.”
“What exactly is an agent going to do for a psychic?” Eddie asked. As it turned out his leg wasn’t broken, but he did have a very impressive row of stitches going up his shin.
“The man thinks I’ve got star quality,” Coulter said lazily. “I believe he called me the love child of Matthew McConaughey and David Copperfield.”
“Does he think you’re humble too?” Scott asked.
“Have you heard anything about Vivica, Eddie?” Anjali asked.
“Well, the university disbanded the parapsychology department, as you know. So we’re both out of a job.”
“Were out of a job,” Scott corrected.
Eddie grinned. “Where are those business cards you promised me anyway?”
“How much is Wilder paying you?” Coulter asked. “I bet there’s a sweatshop in Chinatown that pays more.”
“You were saying?” Scott said to Eddie. “About Vivica?”
“Apparently she’s writing another book. Something about having survived a deadly psychic attack.”
Everyone looked at Coulter.
He yawned and stretched. “All publicity is good publicity. If it isn’t, I’ll sue her.”
“We’re a team,” Scott said. “You won’t have to deal with her alone.”
“That’s beautiful, boss.”
Scott ignored him. “And from a strictly business perspective, we’re a success. There is no investigative firm like ours in the world. Powered by real psychics, solving those cases with a paranormal or supernatural bent.”
Anjali looked puzzled. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. What’s the difference anyway?”
“The supernatural relates to existence outside the natural world. While the paranormal deals with the range beyond normal experience or scientific explanation.”
“I still don’t get it,” Coulter said. “Are ghosts paranormal, and angels and demons supernatural.”
“Well, if angels and demons are supernatural, then ghosts should be too; they’re all dead,” Anjali pointed out.
“Technically, angels and demons are not dead. They’re not even human,” Eddie clarified.
“Wait,” Anjali said. “How can an entity be paranormal when it’s basically a demonic presence? And demons are supernatural, right?”
“The Devil is supernatural,” Coulter explained, “But not demons. Am I right, boss?”
“So miracles and stuff like that is paranormal then,” Anjali said.
Scott shook his head. “No, miracles are supernatural.”
Coulter yawned again. “What’s the difference between the supernatural and paranormal again? If I’m goin’ to hell, I really oughta know.”
Epilogue
Ensenada, Mexico
Three very pale men wearing Bermuda shorts, Hawaiian shirts, and sandals, sat around a small table littered with empty Corona beer bottles.
“I don’t know how I let you guys talk me into this trip,” Maddox said. “All we ever do is get drunk.”
“That’s cause beer is cheaper here,” Fitch pointed out.
Gaspar rubbed his stomach. “Do you guys think I’m getting fat?”
“Let me see that clipping again,” Maddox said.
Fitch pushed it across the table toward him. Maddox snatched it up and scanned the lines. “Do we really think the man the article refers to is Hans?”
“Come on,” Gaspar said. “The guy was trapped in
the wreckage of his car. Gasoline is everywhere, an explosion is imminent and then a mystery man with eyes the color of fish scales comes out of nowhere and rips off the car door, drags the guy to safety, all without touching him?”
“It also says here that the guy in the car was half marinated in tequila at the time.”
“You know I haven’t had a drop of tequila since I’ve been here,” Fitch said.
Maddox looked at him. “You had a margarita for breakfast.”
“So?”
“What kind of alcohol do you think they use in—” Maddox shook his head. “Forget it.”
“Look,” Gaspar said. “It doesn’t hurt to check out the story. And if we find Hans…well, you heard what the General at the DOD said. This could be very good for us.”
“What do you think they’ll do to him?” Fitch asked. “Do you think it’ll be like that movie, The Fury? Those scientists performed experiments on Kirk Douglas’s psychic son until his brain exploded.”
Maddox stood and threw a few bills down on the table. “I’m going back to the hotel. I think I’ve got sunstroke.”
Gaspar watched him go. “What’s up with him?”
“Didn’t you hear?” Fitch said. “He’s got sunstroke.”
“I’m going too. I want to talk to the guy Hans supposedly saved.” He stood and threw down a few bills.”
“Wait for me,” Fitch said and pulled a few bills from his wallet, adding them to the stack on the table. He started after Gaspar, then turned back to the table, went through the pile of money and shoved half the notes back into his wallet. He took off.
Sitting quietly behind a newspaper nearby, a slight man with eyes the color of fish scales, slowly stood up, tucked the newspaper under his arm and sedately headed in the same direction Fitch and Gaspar had taken. He sang softly under his breath in a voice that was high-pitched and heavy at the same time, sexless. It wasn’t a catchy tune.
Then again, Hans had always liked it.
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