"Of course I did. I told you I loved you no matter what. I would do anything for you, even if we can't be together," Dylan answered.
Someone rang the buzzer downstairs. Harris looked perplexed at first, but then started to pull herself up off the couch.
"It's okay. I got it, don't worry," Dylan said as he flew by her and headed for the door.
Gracie's head appeared around the corner. "Oh sweet baby Jesus, what happened?" Gracie shouted. She ran over to the couch and sat by Harris.
Marco followed her into the room, but found himself a spot leaning against the wall, out of the way.
"Well, the jury's out. Maybe I was hit by a car. Maybe I was attacked. They found me across the street from my house."
Marco made a face. Gracie glared at him and scrunched up her nose. She turned back toward Harris.
"If you need anything let us know. I wished you called sooner. It looks like you have some help though," Gracie said, pointing toward the kitchen, where Dylan clinked and splashed in the sink, washing dishes.
"Uh, yeah. That's Dylan. I guess he was still my emergency contact, so they called him. Now he wants to stay and help me out until I heal up," Harris said, lifting her casted arm up.
Gracie leaned in closer to Harris. "The ex, Dylan? He's cute, damn girl," Gracie whispered, looking over at Marco then back at Harris, quickly.
"Yes. Ex. I mean, it is amazing that he came all this way and is taking care of me, but that's in the past, him and I," Harris stated, maybe informing Gracie, or maybe reaffirming it with herself. Maybe both.
"Okay, well good. Because look who wanted to come with me," Gracie whispered, but pointed right at Marco. Marco threw his hands out and shot her a look.
The clanging from the kitchen finally stopped, and Dylan emerged. "Sorry guys. Just wanted to clean up for Harris a little bit. I'm Dylan by the way," he said reached out for a handshake from Gracie then Marco.
"Gracie. I'm sure you heard plenty about me. I'm the one who took her to the show that traumatized her and made her jump in front of a car. Pleasure to meet you," Gracie said, with an exaggerated grin. Harris laughed and hit Gracie's arm.
"Marco. I'm a friend of Harry's. We work together. Actually we all do." Marco scanned Dylan from head to toe. Dylan did the same back.
"Right. HARRIS told me about you. She said great things. Nice to finally meet you. Both of you," Dylan said to Marco, then turned to Harris on the couch. "I was going to run to the store. You are out of dish soap, butter, and beer. Anybody want anything else?"
Everyone shook their heads. "Actually," Harris said, "I'm craving some ice cream, if you don't mind. My card is in my wallet by the door." Harris pointed in the direction of the entryway.
"I got it. No sweat. See you in a bit." Dylan smiled. "Nice to meet you guys," he said, waving to Gracie and Marco.
They were quiet until the clicking of the front door let them know Dylan was out of the house. Gracie turned to Harris. "Holy shit, dude. What the hell happened? Why did you leave? I'm sorry about everything. Please don't do that again. I thought you either died, or didn't love me anymore." Gracie gripped Harris's casted hand. "I mean, look at you! I can't believe this."
Marco walked over to join the ladies, finally, and sat across from them, on the coffee table. "Harry. Something isn't right. Why would you leave in the middle of the night? I don't understand."
Gracie looked over at Marco, her brows furrowed in confusion. She turned to Harris, expectantly. Harris looked away, then down at her scraped up feet. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to muster up the strength to relive what she remembered had happened.
Marco continued, "I mean, I walked you home. I walked you to your house. I came into your house and made sure you were safe. That's why I did it. I made sure you were safe. What happened?" Marco sounded betrayed, as if Harris leaving after he ensured her safety was an attack on him, somehow.
Harris looked up toward Marco. Her eyes were apologetic, but it was for nothing. She had never left. She remembered it all. Gracie's eyes darted back and forth between the two until she finally lost it.
"Okay, somebody has to tell me what is going on. I'm lost. Also, you were in her house? Excuse me?" Gracie exploded, not in anger, as she still kept a smile.
"Marco, I didn't leave. I mean, I did. But I left to get away from whatever did this. It was in my house. I wasn't safe. I was never safe. Whatever tormented me in Arbory, it followed me here. I can't explain it," Harris said.
"Yes, you can. I can. Marco, she's haunted. She has been haunted by ghosts her whole life. They killed her family. Now, they're here," Gracie answered matter-of-factly.
Marco looked irritated. "What? What are you talking about? Harry, I don't know what is going on, but I just wish you'd be straight with me. I have a shift starting. I gotta go. I'll call you." Marco left in a hurry.
"Eesh, he took that well, huh?" Gracie said, elbowing Harris. "Guess we need to call another medium. Or a priest. Or a witch. We have to get you un-haunted, soon."
Chapter Twenty-Three
"So, should I be scared you think? Are your ghosts going to try and kill me?" Gracie asked Harris.
They walked together along the boardwalk. The sun was starting to set, but there was no shortage of people enjoying the games and shops.
"Sorry I couldn't get a response from Maggie the Medium, but I got the second best thing. A random medium on the boardwalk. Let's go."
Harris looked up at the sign hanging above them. It said:
Psychic Medium
Tarot and Palm Readings
Miss Paula
$25
"Twenty-five dollars per what? You think she charges by the hour? Or reading?" Harris asked.
“Maybe it’s per psychic unit? Or per ghost contact. Oh, twenty-five dollars per ball rub.” Gracie answered.
Harris stopped short and did a double take at her friend. “Gracie, she’s a psychic not a sex worker,” she said, poking fun at Gracie.
“CRYSTAL ball rub, you pervert,” Gracie said laughing.
The door had a chime connected to it that rang in an unsettling harmony of off-key tones. The girls looked at each other, both nervously giggling. Sights and smells created a whole new world inside the boardwalk-side shop.
"Welcome, welcome. Please sit. Who am I reading, today?" Miss Paula asked, walking out from a back room. Her glitzy robe draped down to the floor, swaying over the linoleum tile. She gestured to a table with four chairs around it. It had a red tablecloth and a deck of cards. Harris noted that there was no crystal ball.
"Where's your crystal ball?" Gracie asked, noticing as well.
"In the shop. Needs a tune up every four thousand years," Miss Paula replied without skipping a beat.
Gracie shot a smile Harris's way. They sat next to each other at the round table. Miss Paula slid her chair so that it sat across from both of them. She closed her eyes. Incense burned on a far table, near the back room door. Silks and other cloths draped across the walls as layered curtains. Strings of lights added atmosphere to the already mystical feeling room.
"You?" Miss Paula pointed at Harris and Harris nodded. "Right. Give me your palm."
Harris obeyed. Miss Paula traced lines across her palm. She pressed on various lumps of flesh. She thought quietly.
"You are a strong-willed woman. You have a big heart for love, but may attract the type who can not satisfy your level of commitment. Don't be afraid to take chances, especially for love." Miss Paula read from Harris's palm.
"She's good," Gracie said. "No, we don't want any of that. Now we have a bigger problem. Your sign says you’re a medium? We need some of that."
Harris pulled her hand back and nodded. "I need help. There is some stuff going on-"
Miss Paula stopped her. "I will use the cards, then. Please cut this deck in two."
Harris obeyed again. The cards were long and worn. She started feeling like her first intuition was right, that this was a lost cause. Miss Paula shuffle
d each pile of cards, then put them together.
"Cut again, please," she instructed. She took the new piles and sat one on top of the other. She started drawing cards and placing them in various positions. Her face was serious. It seemed to change slightly with each card.
"How's it look? Am I going to make it to the Olympics?" Harris joked.
Miss Paula looked up at her with a stern glare, then back down to her workspace. Harris and Gracie began watching the cards flip, intently. The Sun. The Hermit. Death. Harris gasped.
"Don't worry, I've seen this. It doesn't usually mean something bad. It has different meanings," Gracie assured her.
The Tower.
Miss Paula gasped this time.
Gracie touched her lip. "I guess with that one it's bad."
"Something follows you. A spirit presence. It could be life changing," Miss Paula said.
"Well, I don't think it's one. It seems like many. For my whole life. I think they killed my family and now are trying to kill me."
Miss Paula closed her eyes and muttered something in another language. She stood and left the table. Gracie and Harris looked at each other, sharing the same puzzled expression. Miss Paula returned with new supplies. She laid them out on the table. An old book, tattered and brown, with a gold inlay that had mostly worn away. A dried bundle of herbs, probably sage, Harris thought. A tiny glass jar. A dirty crystal.
"We have to cleanse your spirit. Have you ever been cursed?" Miss Paula asked, flipping through the book.
"Um, no. Not that I know of." Harris answered.
"Okay. Practiced witchcraft? Bargained with the devil?"
"I played with a Ouija board and played light as a feather as a kid. That's as witchy as I got."
Miss Paula looked up from the book. "Did it work?"
"Yeah, they both did."
"Mhmm," Miss Paula said, considering the new information as she returned to flipping through her book. "Okay. Stand over there."
Gracie sat and watched while Harris stood in the middle of the room. Miss Paula first read a chant out of the book. Then she lit the sage and blew it out. Smoke billowed from the bundled herbs. Miss Paula waved it around Harris's body, tracing shapes and symbols in the air. She took the glass jar, which had a strongly scented oil in it, and dotted it on Harris's forehead, palms, and ankles. She took the crystal and kissed it, then handed it to Harris.
"Keep this with you. Sleep with it under your pillow," she said, squeezing Harris's hand around it.
Harris nodded. She looked at Gracie who was now also standing, to see the spectacle better. Her brows were furrowed as she took in the cleansing ritual. After a moment, her face relaxed and she put up her thumb in approval.
"Well that was certainly worth $25," Gracie declared with a smile.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Dylan had gone home. The house felt empty. This was the first night Harris would be spending alone since her accident. After Dylan left, Gracie had stayed several nights, but Harris made her go home, too. She couldn't ask her to keep staying. Harris felt like she was taking over Gracie's life. Even though Gracie didn't agree, she respected Harris's request and went home.
The TV was on in the living room. Harris laid across the couch, feeling woozy. She wasn't ready to sleep in her bedroom, the room she almost died in. The thought caused every bone to ache. She could sleep on the couch more, as she had done every night since getting home from the hospital.
Dylan had slept in her room and was fine. Gracie slept in there a couple nights as well, when she didn't sleep on the chair next to Harris. It was probably safe now, especially after seeing the psychic, but Harris just couldn't shake the feeling of dread in that room.
She touched the crystal in her pocket. She had put it under her pillow every night since Miss Paula had given it to her. Maybe she was finally free. Maybe she was no longer haunted. A feeling of calm came over her. It must have worked. Harris settled in to her dent in the couch, pulling the blanket up to her shoulder. A man on TV complained about the width of the tiles in the entryway of a house he was looking at. Harris smiled, and drifted off into a peaceful sleep, a kind of sleep that she had not had in a long time, maybe ever.
Harris was awoken by a clang in the kitchen. For a moment, she thought Dylan or Gracie was rooting around for a midnight snack. "There's popcorn in the bottom cabinet by the fridge," she called out to the kitchen.
There was no answer. She remembered that she was alone. Immediately, her hand reached for the crystal under her pillow. It was there. She felt better. Maybe she had dreamed of the clatter and that had woken her up, she thought. Then a clink told her otherwise. Could it be a mouse, she wondered? With the crystal and her soul cleansed, she felt braver than usual. It was probably nothing more than a rat.
Harris stood up and faced the kitchen doorway, staring into the dark. Behind her, the TV made soft noises and cast dancing shadows with its cold glow. Why was she hesitating? Miss Paula freed her from that haunted life she was living. That is the past, she told herself. With a breath, she puffed up her chest and walked with forced confidence into the kitchen.
Light from the living room permeated the darkness of the kitchen, once she was in it. She reached for the switch, but it did nothing. In the center of the kitchen, there was a chair. It faced away from her. On the chair, a woman sat, perfectly still. She recognized her immediately. Harris started to shake as she approached, step by step. Slowly, she came around the side of the woman, to see her mother's profile, softly lit by the street light through the window.
"Mom?" Harris whimpered.
Her mother did not move. She stared straight ahead, not blinking or breathing. Harris came around fully, to face the front of her. Mrs. Haim's eyes were glazed white. Her mouth hung open as she stared at nothing in particular. She was slumped back in the chair. She was dead, again. Harris couldn't steady her legs as she backed into the counter. Fear held her in the room. The crystal cut into her palm as she squeezed it with every muscle in her hand, her whole arm tight.
"Mom," Harris whispered, tears welled up in her eyes.
Mrs. Haim snapped her head toward Harris, staring straight into her eyes. Her mother's eyes were focused now. They bore into Harris. Harris stayed still. She waited for the next move, but her mother stared, motionless.
A thump on the wall behind her made Harris scream and turn away. She saw nothing, but turned back toward her mother to see a new person. In the chair, was a girl with black hair that draped across the floor. She stared into Harris's eyes.
Harris tried to move, but her muscles were frozen in place. She couldn't look away, as the girl slowly opened her mouth, never breaking eye contact. A swarm of black insects scurried from her mouth and crawled across her face, even her unblinking eyes. They scattered across her body and down her hair. As they came closer to Harris, she felt her legs break free from their lock and she started to run.
She leapt over the bugs and bolted for the front door. Swinging open the front door, she could feel the spirit behind her, but she wouldn't look back. She flew down the stairs taking them three at a time, almost stumbling. The cool night air hit Harris in the face like a smack of relief. She made it.
That didn't stop her. It wasn't enough. She kept running down the sidewalk, away from the spirit in her house. She ran a couple blocks before she slowed her pace. A terror climbed up from her stomach, as she considered where to go. It didn't matter. Her apartment wasn't haunted. Just like her house wasn't haunted. It was inside her. The ghost's or whatever they were, they were always with her. Wherever she went, they'd be there.
Harris stopped and spun around, looking for a spirit. She couldn't escape it, she realized. Her fist dripped blood as she clenched tight onto what she had thought was her safety charm. The only time she had been safe was when she wasn't alone. She had to go somewhere with people, she decided.
As if the universe was listening, she spotted Marco coming down the street in her direction. Oh thank God, she thought. She w
as finally safe.
Marco spotted her and waved. He walked a little faster, eager to see her. Harris smiled as she stumbled toward him, feeling tears roll down her face.
Marco stopped suddenly. His expression turned cold and serious. Harris looked around but saw nothing out of the ordinary. She continued her path. That's when she spotted it. A tall shadow emerged from the building near Marco. It hunched forward as it phased through the building and landed directly behind him. Marco's expression remained blank as the shadow creature passed through his body, then evaporated into the night air.
"Oh thank God. Marco!" Harris was relieved it didn't hurt him. She picked up her pace as Marco remained motionless. She started to worry. "Marco, you okay?" She shouted to him.
He didn't answer. Instead, he turned to face the street and hurried toward the road. A bus turned the corner, accelerating toward them.
"Marco, stop!" Harris yelled to him.
Marco stopped as the bus barrelled down the road. Harris paused, holding her breath. As the bus approached, Marco threw his body in front of it, the sickening thud echoing down the street, bouncing off the buildings.
Harris screamed.
Marco's body was thrown to the ground in front of the bus, but unable to stop quickly, the bus hopped slightly as the front tire rolled over him. As the bus's breaks screeched, the back end of the bus bounced up and Marco's body rolled beneath the back tire. He laid motionless in the street.
Harris ran out of her shoes trying to reach him. The bus driver arrived at Marco's side just as she did.
"I didn't see him. Oh God. He came out of nowhere. Oh God. My God." The bus driver was frantic.
Blood streamed from Marco's mouth and somewhere under his shirt. Harris felt his neck for a pulse, crying but still attempting to hold herself together.
"Call 911!" she shouted at the driver.
Chapter Twenty-Five
"Just don't call me. Don't come here. It's not safe. I'm not safe. This is all my fault." Harris gripped the phone tight.
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