by Reyna Favis
“What happened?” I asked, just as the elevator doors opened. We walked silently to his room to continue the conversation. I looked at my feet and tried to imagine what Cam went through that could be similar to my torment.
Cam eased himself into the bed and smoothed the covers before he began his story. “He had been dead for nearly three hundred years before I was even born.” His eyes looked a million years old and he focused on a point on the wall rather than look at me. “His name was William and he haunted a warren of underground tunnels in Edinburgh. He was among the three hundred plague victims who were sealed into Mary King’s Close in 1645 to prevent the contagion from spreading.” Cam ran his good hand over his eyes, disturbed by the memory. “They weren’t actually bricked up in the close, that was a myth, but they were quarantined. William sewed himself into a shroud of his own making when he was close to death. He was so concerned that he wouldn’t be decently buried.” He smiled briefly, as if this was a foolish thing.
“Was Zackie with you when you met William?” I asked.
“Yes, we had returned from the States and were living in Scotland at the time. Those were good days.”
“What brought you to Mary King’s Close?” I prompted to get back to the story.
“A friend of mine worked for the Town Council in the old Royal Exchange building. This structure was built right over the close in the mid eighteenth century. Anyway, there were complaints about cold spots and objects moving and levitating in the offices. They were having a hard time holding on to workers, so my friend asked if I’d have a go at making things more hospitable.”
“It was William, then? He was haunting the offices?”
“William was just inquisitive. He’d never seen anything like a stapler before and he loved the fine, white paper that lay everywhere in the office. I spent days trying to talk to him about why he did not want to pass to the next world and he kept diverting me with questions about modern life. For a seventeenth century lad, he had a wonderful curiosity about the world.” Cam reached for the Styrofoam cup on the nightstand and took a few sips on the straw. He looked wistful as he continued, “Days turned into weeks and I got caught up in his enthusiasm for learning about the world. He just had so much vitality! I know that sounds odd about a dead man, but he really gave me an appreciation for the things around me and I began looking on everything with new eyes. I took him on trips around the city and countryside.”
“Hold on just one minute… I thought you told me that spirits tend to stay in an area. A spirit can travel that far from the area they haunt?” I was floored by this new understanding.
“Most spirits don’t, but this one did. He would share my senses when we left the close. We –”
I interrupted at this point because I was really disturbed by what I heard. “You let him possess you? Cam, that is incredibly dangerous and irresponsible! How could you do it?”
“This was not possession,” he barked at me. “William would never do that to me. I was in full control at all times. How could you think such a thing of me?”
“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “Help me understand exactly what was going on.”
“He would just experience things through me. William could taste chocolate for the first time this way. The colors were more vibrant to him and sounds were more complex. Even touch could be augmented and he could discern the subtlety of textures and temperatures.”
I paused for a moment and thought about it. “That sounds more intimate than sex,” I said taken aback. “You must have really loved him.”
“I did love him. That’s the whole point of telling you this story,” he said sweeping his good arm towards me. “Do you want to hear it or not?”
I nodded my head and kept my mouth shut until he continued.
“We went to museums especially, since he could see how time changed everything and what had happened after his death. I think because he died so young, he had missed out on so many of life’s experiences. I tried desperately hard to make up for that during those weeks.” He looked away and was lost in thought for a moment. “As it turns out, this was not the reason William did not want to move on, but I’m still glad I did it. He eventually confessed to me that he felt cursed to walk the earth because he did not receive last rites. He thought this was purgatory.” He rubbed his eyes with his good hand and muttered, “Bloody man… half the people were dead of the plague. There were no priests. And why would he need to be cleansed of his sins? What sins could he have had? He hardly lived long enough.”
“What did you finally do to help him to move on?” I asked gently. This was tearing open old wounds and I really felt for Cam.
“I paid for a mass to be said for him.” His face was flushed and there were unshed tears in his eyes, yet still he went on. “I asked the priest to say a prayer beseeching intercession, asking God to forgive William and grant him a place in heaven. William needed to hear the words said. He came with me to the church to hear the mass and then he said goodbye and went with Zackie.”
We sat quietly together for a few minutes. I finally said, “You loved him so much you let him go.” He just shrugged and kept his silence, staring down at his cast.
Eventually, he cleared his throat and said, “I think I’d like to rest now.”
“Thank you for telling me about William,” I said before Zackie and I walked through the doorway.
CHAPTER 12
I picked up Cam and Zackie from the hospital the next day, and per his request, we drove straight to the Changewater house to get his truck and then arranged for an afternoon rendezvous at his house. The man wasted no time.
When I arrived at Cam’s house that afternoon, aside from the irritation of my greasy hair, I felt happy to get back in the saddle. We convened in Cam’s kitchen and fueled the synapses by consuming large amounts of coffee. Zackie lay comfortably on the floor, but her ears were alert as she listened to our conversation. I was more than ready to discuss what we might do to cleanse the house and lands at Changewater, but my enthusiasm came to a screeching halt with the first words out of Cam’s mouth.
Looking at me over the rim of his mug, Cam said, “You know, Lucas is not going to request a meeting with us to resolve this situation.” I felt a small pang at the mention of his name, but I willed myself to keep my mind on task. “He considers us on the injured list and probably has unjustified feelings of guilt over it.”
“Yeah, that’s true enough,” I said as I fidgeted slightly. On the one hand, I didn’t particularly want to see him because of the effect he had on me, but on the other hand, I craved his presence. I hated feeling so conflicted, but I knew I had to listen to that little voice and suck it up. It was time to be professional and not let emotions wreck havoc with the work. “How about we decide on a plan of action and then make the request ourselves? If we’re driving the process, he won’t be so skittish about having us back in that house.”
“My feelings exactly,” Cam said and raised his mug in a small toast.
“Okay, so to begin… I know you’re not a big fan of attempting a blitzkrieg from site to site and trying to release these souls regardless of what the entity might do,” I began, “but that might be the only way.”
“You’re right. I’m not a fan,” he said. “You seem a bit too easy with the fact that the remaining spirits will be tortured in retaliation.”
“Well, it’s not like they can be killed. They will suffer, but they will reform,” I said.
“Did you think that maybe we won’t be able to move them on? They might not consent to the others being harmed,” Cam warned. “Look how well we did that first night.”
“Maybe it’s a matter of order,” I said tapping my finger on the mug as I thought. “We freed the little girl, so maybe the mother would want to join her. Once they are both gone, the man in the pit might be willing to cross over. He did express concern about his wife and child.”
“Or maybe the mother will refuse because her husband in the pit will be
come a target for the entity’s rage,” Cam countered.
“Do you think it’s possible that we could find just one of them who doesn’t give a rat’s ass about any of the others?” I said exasperated.
“Unlikely,” Cam said as he took a sip of coffee. “Really, they’ve had more than a century to make a move and they all chose to stay and protect the others.”
I made a face, disgruntled that we could not do a fast, clean operation. I put my elbow on the counter and rested my chin on my hand while I thought. Cam leaned his back against the counter and cradled his coffee, staring into its black depths for inspiration. “Crazy thought…” I finally said. “We need more boots on the ground to cover the sites. Can we get help from anyone? You said your grandmother taught you. Is there anyone else in your family who can lend a hand here?”
Cam shook his head. “Granny is long gone and her talents were not identical to what we do. The same goes for the rest of my family. Everyone’s gifts are different.”
“How so?” I asked, sitting up and genuinely curious. I had no idea there were different flavors of this ability.
“My sister sees past lives. She actually covertly counsels people who have not gotten over some trauma from a previous existence. I also have a brother who works with spirit attachment.”
“Past lives I’ve heard of. What the heck is spirit attachment?”
Maybe my eyes were bugging out a bit at this revelation, or maybe Cam thought we were straying from the point. He rolled his eyes and said curtly, “There’s a lot you don’t know yet and we don’t have time for this.”
“Aw, c’mon,” I whined. “You know I’m not going to be able to concentrate until you at least tell me what this attachment thing is.”
He sighed and said, “Fine. Spirit attachment is the result of the dead being greedy for life. They attach to people with habits that can feed their obsessions.”
“Like a dead alcoholic looking for someone who also likes to indulge?” I asked.
“Yes, like that. Except it might be someone who has the occasional beer and the spirit drives them to destructively drink more and more.”
“Maybe that’s what was going on with William,” I accidentally blurted out. It was too late to take the words back, so I began back-pedaling furiously. “I’m sorry, Cam! I didn’t mean—”
Cam curled his lip and I saw an angry retort forming as his face reddened. “No, he was just curious,” he yelled. “How dare you say that William was just some tawdry attaching spirit?” His expression was angry, but I could see the shock of realization forming in his eyes.
I did not respond right away and I kept my voice low when I finally spoke. “I do not think he was just an attaching spirit,” I said. “I know he meant a great deal to you. But I do think that he loved you enough to let you go.”
He visibly sagged at my words, but he didn’t refute them. The skin on his face drooped as he looked down and dropped his gaze from mine. Zackie whined softly as she watched him and then stood up to put her chin on his leg. They seemed to be having a private conversation, so I gave them some space and went to refill my coffee mug. I stared out the window over the sink while I drank it and my shoulders hunched around the mug as regret ate at me. Why did I have to say that out loud? Would it not be better to let Cam continue to remember William as merely curious? The fact remained that he did in the end release Cam of his own free will. In essence, he gave up what little life he had left in this world for Cam.
After a few minutes, Cam stood up and said, “Just give me a few minutes.” He walked slowly to his bedroom and softly shut the door. Zackie slumped back to the floor and lay with her head between her paws, staring sorrowfully at me.
“Now, I’ve done it,” I said to Zackie in a small voice. A few minutes turned into an hour, but it didn’t feel right to just leave. I spent the time pacing around the rooms and fretting, trying to come up with a way to make it up to Cam. I finally went to Zackie and said, “Will you open the way for me?” At first, she gave no response, but then she slowly stood to her feet.
I shielded my eyes with my left hand and turned my head from the blinding light. Stretching out my right hand, I felt my way towards the opening. While I expected the light to be searing hot, I instead felt a bone chilling cold the closer I approached. Taking a deep breath, I plunged my hand into the opening and reached out with my mind for William. I screamed with the sudden, consuming pain and threw myself backwards. It was all reflex. I had no thought other than the electrical pain that shot into my hand. Cam came running out of his room in time to sense the portal shut and see me writhing in agony on the floor.
“What the hell did you just do?” he screamed. He was frantic as he knelt by me, but I couldn’t speak and I had stopped thinking. I was gasping and tears were involuntarily running from my eyes. My right hand was grasped protectively against my chest by my left and I had rolled on to my side into a fetal position. My whole body quivered with the aftermath of the ordeal and I felt like I was going to vomit. “Let me see your hand,” he demanded as he wrenched my other hand away. My right hand was balled into a fist and at first it looked white, like something frostbitten. As he turned my hand and opened the fist, the dead white skin displayed marbling from burst blood vessels and it looked like putrefaction might be setting in. The hand belonged to a corpse. I watched in horror as my fingers extended of their own volition, revealing blackened nails. A small piece of parchment dropped to the floor as the hand opened.
“I did not… did not… do that,” I croaked before I passed out.
# # #
Cam was sitting on a folding chair staring at me when I awoke. It was dark and the only illumination came from a lamp in another room. I still lay on the floor where I had fallen. Cam couldn’t move me because of his broken arm, but he had brought a pillow for my head and a blanket to cover me. My hand was wrapped up to the wrist in a dish towel held fast with duct tape.
Seeing me stare at the wrapped hand, Cam said, “I did pretty well for only having only one hand.” He paused and then said quietly, “It started moving while you were out. It was pulling on the blanket and touching the floor around you…” He swallowed hard and continued. “I couldn’t stand to look at it, so I wrapped it in a dish towel.” Getting a hold of himself, he took a deep breath and said, “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
My throat was full of phlegm and I had to clear it a few times before I could talk. “I was sorry for what I said about William. I thought if I could reach him, I could relay a message to you and make it all right.”
“And you asked Zackie to let you through?”
I nodded. “I had no idea this would happen.”
“Well, it’s been a good dozen hours and the putrefaction hasn’t crept up your arm. I really thought it would kill you,” he said, his eyes shifting uneasily.
“Do you think my hand will rot?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve never heard or seen anything like this before. No one has ever been so foolish…” He let his voice trail off. “Don’t you have any sense of self-preservation?” he said at last.
I looked down and did not respond.
After a short silence, Cam said, “For what it’s worth, he did reach me.” He held up the small piece of parchment.
“Was it worth it?” I asked.
He quirked his lips and responded, “For me, yes. For you, probably not.”
“What am I going to do?” I whispered, helpless against the growing horror.
“A doctor probably won’t help,” he said. “Modern medicine can’t cure dead.” He thought for a moment and then asked, “Can you move it at all?”
I picked up my arm and put the wrapped hand in front of my eyes. I willed my fingers to move and was gratified when I saw movement under the towel. I was smiling and about to tell Cam that at least I had movement in my fingers, when the hand shot forward and began touching my face. I screamed and tried to get away, but it was useless. Cam lunged from the chair and
wrestled the hand away from my face, forcing it down to my side. When it finally stilled, he cautiously moved away. He was sweating profusely and shaking his head. I lay there breathing hard and tried not to give into hysteria.
“I know this feeling,” I finally said to Cam. “This is the way it was when I was kid.” I kept my voice steady and quiet as I continued. “At least now, you’re around to understand if I start screaming and can’t stop. No one understood then.” I felt a hot tear escape from the corner of my eye. “Oh God…” I breathed, turning my head away from him. “I’m going to end up in five point restraints again in some psychiatric facility.”
“I promise you, I won’t let that happen,” Cam said.
I turned back and looked hard at him to measure the truth of his words. His eyes never wavered, but the decision to commit me might not be solely up to him if I really lost it. Cam was not a relative, after all. He had no legal say in what would be done with me. With the course of my life in the balance, I forced myself to stay in control, to think things through and to come up with a plan. “Damn straight,” I finally said. Getting to my feet, I embraced the growing fury and went to the kitchen. I began rummaging through the drawers until I found the cleaver.
“Jesus God!” Cam exclaimed, jumping to his feet and rushing in behind me.
I went to the sink and placed the cleaver on the counter within easy reach of my left hand and began to unwrap the towel. “If this thing is going to try to strangle me in my sleep, I want to find out now.” Looking at it was less of a shock now that I knew what to expect. I screwed up my courage and poked it hard with my left hand. It contracted the fingers a little, but otherwise didn’t move. I poked it again several times rapidly and just as I was about to start swearing, the hand came up lightning fast and lightly slapped my poking finger. It then balled up the other fingers, leaving the index finger extended and shook this finger at my other hand as if it were scolding me.
Cam was slack jawed when I turned to look at him, incredulity etched in my face. I stared at him wild-eyed and bellowed, “What the fuck?” That was all I could say for the next few minutes. Non-expletives lacked sufficient dynamic range to cover the contradictions inherent in this event. Zackie took that moment of confusion and stood up at the counter to grab the cleaver in her jaws before disappearing into the house with it. Cam and I stared after her and then our eyes met as we understood her meaning. The hand was not a danger.