by S D Hegyes
She could see the entrance of her building. Across the street from the blood donor center she worked at. She smiled. It was the main reason she’d chosen to live where she did. She liked not having to find a ride back and forth to work. It was right there. Of course, this was still the side of Fayetteville a lot of people avoided. There was always something going on down the street, but she’d never felt safer. Maybe it was a product of being in the military and learning how to care for herself, but she’d never felt as if she’d have trouble there either.
She sighed and put her hand to her forehead, forgetting her shoes were in her hand for a moment and smacking herself in the face with one of the heels. She sputtered and then laughed at herself.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes. Just heeled myself in the face. Listen, I need to go, Charlotte. I need to get upstairs and get ready for bed. I’ll talk to you later. Alright?”
There was a pause and Charlotte said, “Alright. Have a good night.”
“You too. Bye.”
They hung up and guilt ate away at Sorsha. She sighed. It couldn’t be helped. Charlotte didn’t know about her abilities. No one did, really. At least, no one outside her client list, and the spirits in her deck.
She shook her head and leaned against the side of her apartment building to pull on the heels even though her feet were sore. If she knew she could get up the stairs without seeing Tatiana, the apartment manager, she might have chanced leaving the heels off.
If Tatiana caught her without shoes, they’d be off to the races. Tatiana knew Sorsha knew enough Spanish to understand the string of lines that would persist. Tatiana was a traditionalist in many ways, and going without shoes in the city could only mean one thing—Sorsha had become a lady of the night, something Tatiana would not stand for in her fine establishment.
Never mind that only a couple months prior, anyone walking down the street in that part of town would have been considered such anyway. The neighborhood might’ve cleaned up when the center and apartment complex opened, but that didn’t mean it had lost its reputation. Sorsha still heard rumors every once in a while, and Tatiana wouldn’t let her residents bring that reputation back.
Avoiding an angry Tatiana was best. Even if it wasn’t that late, Sorsha’s state of dress said it all. Tatiana would get the wrong idea. No matter what.
The blisters on her feet ached as soon as she put the heels back on, but she forced herself inside and up the stairs with a groan.
As she passed his door, her neighbor, Mr. Church opened his door and frowned at her. She smiled at him. “Good evening, Mr. Church.”
“Evening, Sorsha. You had a visitor earlier.”
She groaned, but she was pretty certain she knew who it was. “Tatiana?”
He nodded.
“Rent’s late again. I know.”
His face, which was always twisted into a grumpy or pain-filled frown, softened. Sorsha had no idea what had happened to Mr. Church, but something made him eternally grumpy with nearly everyone. He reminded her of a grandfather worried about his grandchildren behind closed doors but gruff to their faces.
“Do you need help, Sorsha? I know how it is for you.”
She shook her head. “I’ll work it out.”
“Any luck getting a roommate? I know you have an extra room.”
Since Sorsha was up to her eyeballs in medical debt she was slowly paying off, she’d recently put an ad in the lobby and the local paper for a roommate. It had been Irene’s suggestion. Someone to help pay utilities and bills? She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it sooner.
“Interviews next week.”
He nodded and gave her a rare smile. “You have a good night, Sorsha.”
“You as well, Mr. Church.” With a small wave, she continued past his door to her own. Sure enough, there was a notice on her door about rent being past due. She sighed, unlocked her door, and slipped inside, yanking the notice down as she did so.
3
An hour later, Sorsha had stripped off the wet dress, taken a shower, and redressed in an old pair of sweatpants and a tank top. She’d thrown her damp hair up in a haphazard bun and hung the dress over the bathroom curtain rod to dry.
She’d eaten at the party, but that didn’t stop her from filling a bowl with chips and grabbing some salsa before she sat at her kitchen table to scroll through her evening appointments.
When she wasn’t working at the TBDC, Sorsha ran Phantom Mystics. She advertised it as a psychic service, even if that wasn’t quite what it was. It amazed her how many people wanted the chance to speak with loved ones they’d lost again, even if it was only to find a bit of closure with those who’d passed on.
She’d started the service shortly after her accident, back when she was on complete bed rest and couldn’t work a regular job, and even after she’d started working full-time, she couldn’t give it up. It had become so much more over the years than it had been when she’d first started it.
Part of it was the way she worked. She promoted online through various ads and social media sites. Word of mouth had an effect on her client list too. She had a website that allowed her to take and schedule appointments. She loved that they synced to her phone calendar so she didn’t have to constantly check the site.
It was all rather modern in the administrative area, but the process when she talked to her clients was all her. She both loved and hated it.
Sometimes, her clients were non-believers, calling her to see if they could pull her leg. She didn’t care if they believed her or not. Her site depicted that callers would not be scheduled appointments unless they made a twenty-five percent non-refundable payment. That was enough to deter most non-believers, and those who remained usually became believers at the end of Sorsha’s phone call with them.
Sorsha had always been able to speak with ghosts. Spirits, one of them had corrected her. She saw those who died in mysterious and strange ways—ways that couldn’t be explained with modern science and law.
“Shoot!” Sorsha snarled and stood. She’d thrown her purse on her bed when she walked through her room to the bathroom and forgotten it there.
Her apartment wasn’t large, but it was comfortable. The door opened to a large space that was split fifty-fifty between living room, dining area, and kitchen. One only had to walk straight through the apartment to the two bedrooms on the far side, both of which had their own bathroom.
The apartment had come furnished and the bedrooms matched with a full-sized bed, a single three-drawer dresser, and a closet. The bathrooms contained a simple sink with a medicine cabinet overhead, a toilet and a tub. She’d had to purchase a shower curtain for the shower, but there’d already been a small trash can in each one.
Thanks to Irene, who cared more about the looks of her surroundings than Sorsha did, there were a couple of paintings hanging in the living room and one on the wall behind the table, but that was the extent of decorations.
There was a couch and a coffee table in the living room, but Sorsha’d had to buy a stand for her TV when she’d moved in. Not that she watched it much. She spent more time on her laptop, browsing the internet.
Walking to the bedroom on the left side of the apartment, Sorsha opened the door and strode toward the bed, picking up her purse and dumping out its contents.
There hadn’t been much room in the purse, and she’d only been able to bring a handful of items she usually carried. Wallet, keys, loose change, a tube of bright red lipstick. It was all there. She lifted a purple velvet bag by its gold drawstrings with a grin.
She never went anywhere without the velvet bag. It contained her spirit deck, as she liked to call it. She didn’t know what else to call it, as she’d never met another phantom before. Not that she knew of, at least.
After the blast that ended her military career and left her with a limp in bad weather, Sorsha thought she was normal. It hadn’t been until she’d been going through her personal effects upon her hospital release that she even
thought she was anything but.
She’d discovered the velvet bag in a side pocket of her ruined uniform. How it survived the blast, no one seemed to know, which she found even more curious.
So Sorsha opened the bag and discovered there was a deck of playing cards inside. Most of the cards looked like a normal deck with the blue and white design on the back and the traditional four suits. The other part of the deck was completely black except for a skull on the backside that matched throughout the deck. On the opposite side were figures all from various time periods.
Other than the black cards, and the fact that every figure seemed to have a translucent appearance, there was nothing on the cards to indicate what they were.
Then she’d found the files next to her computer with a sticky note from Tanner that said, “Here are the files you asked for. What did you need them for?”
She hadn’t a clue.
Still, as she read through them, she discovered a part of her life she couldn’t remember. She knew the names of the people in those files, could remember hints of talking to them before, which made no sense as they were all dead—and most had been for a long time.
Then she held one of the cards and said the name that matched the file she had. Doing so changed everything.
In the course of a single week, Sorsha learned she had powers, had for a long time—although she couldn’t remember how long—and had been collecting her spirit deck for years even before she joined the military.
Walking back to the table, Sorsha untied the drawstrings and pulled the deck into her hand so she could see the face of the cards. She separated the deck into two based off the face of the cards. One stack had a face of a normal deck of cards while the other was black with a skull.
When she pushed power into the cards, it would seep into the deck of cards until orange vapors drifted around the skull in the black background, snaking around in lazy motions. The eyes of the skull also glowed with power until Sorsha drew it back within herself.
She ate some chips before she shuffled the spirit deck and turned the cards so that the skull grinned up at her.
Only then did she dial the first client on her list. It went straight to voicemail even as she shoved her bluetooth in her ear.
She listened to the pre-recorded message before leaving a message at the tone as instructed. “Hello, Lynne. This is Phantom. We’d scheduled a session this evening. Sorry I missed you. Please call me back when you can reschedule your session. As you know, the deposit is non-refundable. Thank you for using Phantom Mystics. Have a pleasant evening.”
In two years, her message to those who didn’t respond to her call hadn’t changed. There was no point in fixing what wasn’t broken.
Sorsha ate some more chips, using a napkin to clean up spilled salsa, and drank a glass of water before preparing for her next appointment. She liked to schedule them on the hour so that she had up to forty-five minutes with each client if necessary.
Usually she shuffled the deck between each reading, more out of boredom than necessity, but she didn’t do that before calling Michael, her next client. He’d scheduled weekly appointments for the past two years.
He picked up on the third ring, as he always did. “Good evening, Phantom.” Michael’s voice was calm and even.
“Good evening, Michael. How are you tonight?”
“Good. You?”
“Same. Is there anything specific you’d like to ask the spirits about tonight?”
She lifted her hands, watching her power flow out the tips of her fingers in the form of orange vapor, like smoke from the cherry end of a cigarette. She smiled as it drifted toward the cards.
The empty eye sockets glowed orange, and she knew that as long as her power flowed through them, they’d remain orange. The vapors that poured from her hands seeped into the cards like a sponge, twisting and curling around the skull like smoke in a closed jar.
“Not particularly,” Michael said, but Sorsha heard the hesitation in his voice.
“Tell the truth.” She smiled even as she chided him.
Still, he hesitated, but finally he sighed and said, “It’s a woman. I have feelings for her, but I can’t be completely honest with her because of my job. She’s a detective, and I have a sneaking suspicion she’ll be nosy enough to start digging where she’s not allowed. I don’t know.”
Even after two years, Sorsha wasn’t certain what Michael did for a living. Classified. She understood that better than she let on since some of the missions she and her team had been on when she’d been military had also been classified.
Sorsha didn’t really need her cards for that one. At least, she didn’t think she did. Then again, who was she to give dating advice?
“Would you like me to ask?”
“No. Not much I can do about it at the moment anyway, so matter what the spirits say. Best for me to wait it out.” He sighed. “I think I’d like to know how much longer I have to wait before I bring someone else on board though. Can you ask that?”
“I can.” Sorsha shuffled the card out of habit rather than necessity, and breathed on them, whispering, “Michael Tanner.”
In order for her magic to work, she had to say the first and last name of her client. She didn’t know why that was, only that it worked. She’d tried it based on first name alone multiple times, but it never seemed to do anything. It wasn’t until she added the last name that anything occurred.
Michael made no comment as she worked. She watched the orange eyes of the skull flare up and then dim once more. Only then did she pick up the card at the top of the deck. She frowned when she flipped it over and saw who was on the other side.
As she gazed over the card, a thin, translucent vapor poured from the top, like fog from a machine, and settled in the form of a person across from Sorsha standing behind the table.
The woman before her wasn’t whom Sorsha had expected. Not that she’d expected anyone in particular. Lady Victoria Von Brighton hardly ever appeared for readings. She’d grown up in a posh society, and she’d had more money in a single month than Sorsha hoped to make in her entire lifetime. Lady Victoria had come from a well-off family and married into a better one. Her father had been an investor, and her husband bred and raced thoroughbreds.
Sorsha took a breath and watched as the spirit’s eyes fluttered open.
“Lady Victoria Von Brighton.” She didn’t know why, but Sorsha always felt the need to curtsy before the deceased woman.
“Lady Sorsha.” A smile tweaked at Lady Victoria’s dainty mouth. She unfolded her gloved hands and gestured to the chair across from Sorsha. “May I?”
“Of course.”
“Everything alright?” Michael asked on the phone line.
“Everything’s fine, Michael. Lady Von Brighton has decided to join us tonight.”
“Lady Von Brighton? I don’t believe I know her.”
The spirit shook her head even as she sat before Sorsha, almost as if she’d heard Michael’s words and was answering. Maybe she had.
“She’s never come forward for you before.” She waited until the lady had settled herself and smoothed her skirt down. She knew Lady Von Brighton had lived during the 1800s, but she couldn’t remember when exactly. The woman rarely appeared for any reason. The fact that she had now made Sorsha’s mind spin in circles and theories she didn’t voice aloud.
“Are you ready, Lady Sorsha?” the spirit asked, jerking Sorsha from her thoughts.
Sorsha took a deep breath and nodded, reaching one hand across the table.
Lady Von Brighton accepted the gesture, weaving her fingers with that of the live woman.
Sorsha shuddered. No matter how many times she did this, the knowledge that she was physically touching a dead person still unnerved her. She took a deep breath and pushed her power out.
The spirit’s eyes glowed orange, and Sorsha knew her own would reflect the same eerie orange light. Not that anyone ever noticed. She watched in barely-contained panic as the spirit
seeped through the table and merged with Sorsha’s form.
Until the spirit released her, she was at her mercy.
It was her least favorite part of the job, but this was how spirits like Lady Von Brighton spoke to the clients, made them believe everything she told them. The spirits could speak through her, move through her, and do any number of things through her.
“Michael Tanner?” Sorsha’s mouth moved, but it was Lady Von Brighton’s voice that escaped.
“Yes, Lady Von Brighton?” There was a tremor to Michael’s voice.
“You await a sign that you should contact someone to bring on your team?”
Hesitation met the spirit’s words, and then, “Yes.”
“Soon. You will know when the time is right. When you visit a close friend in a couple weeks, in fact.”
“Uh. . . Thank you, Lady Von Brighton.”
“You’re more than welcome—” She paused, as if about to say something else, but then finished, “—Michael Tanner.”
The spirit released Sorsha, who trembled while white puffs of cloud escaped her throat. She leaned forward with her palms flat against the table.
“Phantom? Are you alright?”
“Yes. I’m good.” She panted, looking up at the spirit across from her.
Victoria Von Brighton dipped her head and then dissipated in a cloud of vapors that trickled back into the card. The glowing eyes on the back of the deck went dark.
The air around Sorsha warmed. This was the part she hated. Her hands continued to shake as she braced herself against the table and sat up in her seat.
“Did you get the response you were looking for, Michael?”
“Ultimately, yes.”
“I’m glad.”
“Phantom?” There was an unasked question in the man’s voice, as if he was afraid of the answer he’d get.
“Yes?”
“Why did Lady Von Brighton come forward today?”
Sorsha tapped her bottom lip. “If I know the lady well enough, there was a double meaning in her words. This was a message for both of us.” She shook her head. “Damned if I’ll understand it before it hits me in the face though.”