No Rest for the Wicked

by Krystal Jane Ruin

  Sighing heavily, she moves to clean it up. “Damn, cat.” She scoops the broken bulb pieces into her hand, picking up the smaller pieces carefully with her fingers. She wants to pull out the vacuum. Her gaze lingers on the closet it’s kept it, but she doesn’t want to disturb her husband. She rights the lamp and replaces the bulb with a fresh one from the kitchen before heading back to bed.

  In the darkened hallway, just feet from her bedroom, she freezes. The cat, a tiny orange-and-white kitten, crouches low in the shadows of the doorway, ears back, a low growl emitting from its throat.

  Evangeline’s back straightens. She approaches the cat slowly and kneels down beside it. “It’s just a light bulb, sweetie,” she whispers. “It’s okay.” She starts to reach for the kitten, but her arm stops midway.

  Inside the room, a shadow of a man is leaning over her husband, sucking a misty orange light out of his parted lips and into a rounded glass bottle with a long, tapered neck. The mist coils down into the bottom, shining vibrant and electric. Her husband’s complexion changes from warm and rosy to cool and gray.

  Another man stands by the window next to the bed, hands deep in the pockets of a long, dark coat, watching on. When the mist dissipates from the air, the bottle is corked and stashed away into the insides of a similar coat.

  The woman’s sharp intake of breath alerts the men to her presence. The one by her husband, the taller of the two, starts towards her. She cries out and stumbles back against the wall in the hallway. But a gloved hand on his arm holds him back.

  “Leave her,” says the man by the window.

  “But she saw,” the other protests, though he heels obediently like a trained dog.

  The shorter man sneers, a flash of teeth barely visible in the darkness. “She doesn’t know what she saw.” Pulling a hood over his face, he indicates for his partner to do the same and makes quick work of opening the blinds and window. Pale moonlight falls across the dark leather of their coats and hoods as they climb easily onto the sill and drop down the few feet to the grass.

  Evangeline rushes into the room and falls across the bed to her husband’s side. “Jerry! Jerry, wake up, oh God! Jerry! Please, wake up!” She collapses into tears over his soft, cooling body. But he doesn’t stir. He’s completely limp and lifeless in her arms.

  I push forward through the next few days.

  Sleepless nights, new bolts on the doors, a security system.

  I push forward more days still, months, but I don’t see them coming back for her. I only see her losing her mind.

  I pull out of her head and drop her hand. It falls to my table like a stone. Tremors race up my back. I don’t even know what I saw. I don’t know what to tell her. But something about that orange mist is familiar. I’ve seen it one other time, coming out of my mother’s lips in a vision I had two days before our bungalow was attacked…this night eight years ago. I never saw what got her. I only saw those things along the walls, creating some kind of barrier, keeping something worse out…or keeping me in. Or both. I don’t know.

  “You need to forget about that,” is all I can say.

  “Did you see them?” Her hands curl into fists. “What did they do to him?”

  “I…I don’t know.”

  “Are they coming back for me?” Her voice trembles and her eyes fill with water.

  “No.” I slip from my stool and stand. I need her to leave and take her memories with her. They cling to my brain like something sticky and slimy.

  “Are you sure?” She stands, too, and takes a step towards me.

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re sure you can’t tell me what happened? How my husband died within seconds right before my eyes?”

  “You really need to forget about that.” I back away. “It won’t do you any good to keep thinking about it.”

  “But how? I can’t stop thinking about it. It consumes everything. She said you could help me with that…if it was safe. Can you really help me? Can you really make it go away?”

  “Yes, I can. But that’s all I can do for you.”

  “And it is safe?” Her eyes plead with me to help her. I just want her out of my room.

  I grab a large, amber stone from the basket behind me and squeeze it in my fists. “Yes, it’s safe. I promise. You will never see them again. And I’ll make you something that will help with the memories, just get out. I’ll leave it with Renali. You can pick it up tomorrow.”

  Relief rains over her worn features. “Thank you so much.” She starts to reach out for me, but pulls her arms back when I draw away. “How much for the extra help?” She reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a flattened handful of bills.

  “No, nothing. Just go. It’s gratis.”

  “No, no. Please, let me give you something for your help.” She counts out five more twenties and a hundred-dollar bill. “Is this enough?”

  Orange mist fills my vision, and I resist the urge to bat it away because I know it’s not really there. “Yes, that’s perfect. Thank you. It’ll be there first thing when she opens. I’ll leave instructions. Super easy. It won’t take longer than a day.”

  She presses her palms together and plants a kiss on the sides of her hands. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She leaves the crisp bills on the table and hurries from the room.

  My arms go slack beside me, and the stone tumbles and clatters loudly against the floor. I’ve seen a lot of things in people’s heads. But I have never seen anything that disturbing in anyone’s mind but my own.

  Orange mist.

  Those men…was someone like them in my house that night? Is that what killed my family? My instinct is to rush over to Renali’s office and ask for help in figuring this out. But fear stills my feet. Do I want to know? Do I really want to know?

  I find the clear amber stone on the floor and bend down to retrieve it. Instead of rising back up to my feet though, I fall back against the curved wall and stare blankly at the heavy, purple curtain.

  Orange mist.

  What were they doing?

  How did they do it?

  Why?

  Chapter Six

  Today is the best day to do this. I stand outside of Renali’s office with a paper bag crumpling in my fist. It took me two tries to get the tonic to come out right. Something is fraying my nerves, and I’m not in the mood to delve deeper and figure it out.

  There never will be a good time to do this.

  But exhaustion pulls at me from all angles, weighing down my limbs and my eyelids and my mind. If I go in there and close my eyes now, I’ll fall asleep for sure.

  The temperature has dropped significantly since this morning; a storm is on its way. Dark clouds drop a gray, dismal blanket over the orange sky and early evening sunset. The wind pulls at the hairs on the nape of my neck.

  Taking a deep breath, I pull open the door and step into the empty waiting room. The white-noise machine is on at the top of the hall. She must still be with someone. Agitation crawls into my stomach. I just want this over with. The sooner I can get this bag out of my hands, the sooner I can pretend my session with Evangeline never happened. Because what she saw is ridiculous. It’s ridiculous, and it makes no sense. That woman is crazy. Maybe she was having a nightmare…

  My brain tightens around the thought. Yeah, you wish.

  The office door opens, and a middle-aged man steps out. He nods politely as he passes.

  Renali gestures for me to come down the hall. I shake my head, but my feet move me forward anyway. I press the paper bag into her hands and start backing away before she can say anything.

  “What is this?”

  I’ve never noticed how dark her hallway is at night before. “It’s something for that woman you sent over to see me this afternoon.”

  “Ah. Evangeline.” Her amber gaze fixes sharply on my face. “What did you think?”

  I stop backing away. “What?”

  Half a smile lights across her face. “About what you saw in her head.”

/>   An involuntary spasm flares up my spine. How much does she know?

  Renali glances down into the bag. When she looks back up at me there’s a fire in her eyes. “Sorry to send her over there like that, but you saw her—the woman was a mess.”

  “What did she tell you?”

  Renali carefully folds the top of the paper bag and sets it down on her desk. “She told me men in black cloaks sucked the life from her husband’s body.” The way she says it makes it sounds like she thinks the woman is a raving maniac. But her eyes are saying the exact opposite. They’re filled with intrigue. Perhaps even…humor. “She was quite afraid that they would come back for her, but I told her you were the only one who could find out.”

  “They’re not.”

  She smiles like she already knew. “Good. So?”

  “So what?”

  “Did it make any sense to you?”

  A frown presses into my face. “Is it supposed to?”

  Renali drums her orange painted nails on the inside of the door frame. “Do you have time? We can do a session now.”

  My throat closes up, and I have to clear it a couple of times before I can speak. “No. I’m busy. I have tonics and crap to make for tomorrow.” I give her the opportunity to admonish me for running off to the black market again, but she turns a deaf ear to it, as always.

  She’s known about it from the start, but she’s never expressed the same warnings as my aunt. She’s never outright encouraged it either, but I always felt like she had her own underhanded and silent ways of tempting me with it—starting with the very first client she sent to me who told me all about it and how much money I could make down there.

  Renali takes a step towards me, and I take a step back. “Tatum…you shouldn’t be afraid of your gifts. Embracing them, all of them, will make you strong. The past is blocking your way to a brighter future. One that’s free and uninhibited.”

  I shake my head. I’m not entirely sure I know what she’s talking about, and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know either.

  “Tomorrow evening,” she says with a finality. When I hesitate, she adds, “Tomorrow evening, and I promise you, no matter what happens, I will push Tessandra as hard as I can to grant you more space.”

  Our gazes lock underneath the invisible keys she dangles over my head—keys to the gate of freedom.

  I take them. “Fine.”

  “Good.” She smiles and gestures towards the front door. “I won’t keep you. Stay out of trouble.”

  “Sure.”

  Kalin is waiting for me on the curb outside, leaning against her car and talking on the phone. She holds up a finger, and I slide down into the passenger seat and stare out the window as I wait.

  The dim light in Renali’s office goes out. A few seconds later, her shiny, black convertible pulls out from behind the building and takes off down the street.

  Tessandra’s warning plays on repeat in my brain, mingling with the exhaustion and further weighing me down.

  You are not being responsible here…don’t make the same mistakes my sister made. Your gifts are unique. Please find your senses…before someone strips them from you.

  Kalin has to slam her door twice to get it to stay shut. The noise joggles me out of my thoughts. She takes one look at my worn expression and says, “You really need to sleep. Seriously, go to bed as soon as we get home.”

  I fumble with the seat belt for a second and buckle it. “I’m fine.”

  The car slowly groans itself to life.

  “If fine means crap today, then, yeah, you’re totally fine.”

  The trees and shadows blur past the window as Kalin speeds down the road and up the steep mountain hills.

  “Kalin…have you ever seen anything…I don’t know, weird, when doing a reading?”

  She gives me a quick glance. “What do you mean by ‘weird’? What kind of weird?”

  Fatigue fogs my brain. My eyelids dip once, and bright red blood-covered hands immediately flash before me. I bolt upright and shake it off.

  “Seriously, Tatum—”

  “I mean, have you ever seen someone die?”

  Kalin frowns. “I don’t see anything. There are shapes in the crystal ball, of course, but no, I can’t say I ever saw someone fall over dead in there. Why?” Her dark eyes go wide as she glances over at me again. “Did you see something like that today? I know you have abilities that are a little…different.”

  My brain sludges around for some vehicle of comparison. “No…have you ever seen like, a demon or something?”

  The car comes to a hard stop at a red light, jolting me awake just enough to give me hope that I can at least make it through a pot of coffee.

  “Not really. I’ve seen people with demons in them.” She pauses. “Why?” There’s an unsettled edge to her voice.

  “Just asking.”

  “No. You never just ask. Did you see something weird today? What did you see?”

  “Nothing. Some lady’s husband died. It was just…sudden.” Understatement.

  “You saw her husband die? Oh my god. What did you tell her?”

  The car behind us honks twice, and Kalin reluctantly pulls forward.

  “I didn’t tell her anything.” Agitation creeps up my back at the memory. “She wanted me to tell her how, and I couldn’t.”

  “Wow.” Kalin breathes out heavily. “I worry about stuff like that sometimes. Like what if I did see one of those misty shapes fall over dead in the crystal ball? Or worse. What if I read something in their palm that tells me their life is going to end soon?” Sympathy lines her eyes. “God, that’s awful. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine.”

  She gives me half a smile. “So fine definitely means crap today, then?”

  I return her smile with a microscopic one of my own. “I’ll go to bed early, I promise. I just need to stay up late enough to make some kind of draught for her that will calm her down.” No matter that I’ve already made it.

  “I bet,” she says. “I wish I could help you with that, but I have no idea how it works.”

  “I know.” She may not understand it, but that’s one thing she knows about me. She knows about the underground.

  Kalin parallel parks in front of our row house and hesitates behind the wheel for a moment. “If I could help you with things like that, if I knew how to do it, would you let me help you?”

  “I’d make you.” I force a bigger smile onto my face. “Why should I have all the fun?”

  Maybe I should stop going.

  There are things existing in this world that not even I know about. And they are lurking in plain sight everywhere.

  Tessandra’s words echo loud in the quiet stillness of the room.

  I lean heavily against the window in my bedroom, next to the tonics and stones cooling on the sill, and stare out into the night, watching the darkness – just like I did the night my family died. Only it wasn’t raining that night.

  There are things existing in this world…lurking in plain sight everywhere.

  A shudder passes through the center of my body. Things…

  Orange mist coils before my eyes.

  The older I get, the harder it is to stay up two nights in a row. I’m going to have to face it eventually. Grow up and face it.

  The light patter of rain against my window is enough to lull me to sleep by itself.

  Exhaustion pulls at my eyelids. Just a little while longer…

  Something clatters in the kitchen below my feet, startling me away from the cool comfort of the window.

  The clock reads three in the morning. Furrowing my brow, I head automatically for the stairs, bringing my empty coffee pot with me.

  The kitchen is dark except for the bright light emanating from the fridge, partially blocked by Emmerick’s wide shoulders as he juggles a couple of Tupperware containers.

  “What are you doing?”

  He turns sharply, nearly dropping the containers and adding them to the mess on the wooden flo
or – dozens of green peas spill out of an overturned pot at his feet.

  “Sorry, did I wake you?” An apologetic grin stretches over his face. He dumps the Tupperware on the counter and gets to cleaning up the mess he made.

  “Haven’t slept.” I maneuver around the dark marble island in the center of the room, dump the coffee pot beside containers filled with leftover lasagna and squash casserole, and reach into the cabinet for more coffee.

  Reaching past me for another paper towel, Emmerick’s arm brushes against my shoulder, causing a bit of static electricity to build up under my skin. “Problems?”

  “Always.” As if to solidify this point, the coffee can is almost empty. I swear there was more in here an hour ago. In fact…my eyes scan the darkened cabinet. There were three canisters of coffee in here an hour ago. Now there is only this one, and it’s missing seven-eighths of the contents it had last time. A groan emits from my throat. “Freaking Kalin.”

  “What?”

  I shake my head and dump what’s left into the coffee maker. “No one trusts me in this house.”

  Emmerick pulls the lid off the lasagna and starts eating it cold, dipping his fork right into the container. “I trust you.”

  “Shut up.”

  He smiles. “I’m going to let that slide because you’re cranky.”

  I rest my elbows on the counter and drop my head into my hands as I wait for the pitiful amount of coffee to drop into the pot.

  “Wanna play blackjack?”

  When I lift my head, Emmerick is holding up a pack of playing cards.

  “You just carry playing cards around with you?”

  “Maybe.” His grin widens.

  I look over his pocket-less lounge pants and tank top. “How?”

  Without answering, he flips on the overhead light and sets up on one side of the island. I reluctantly drag my heavy feet to the other side. He shovels cold food into his mouth with one hand and divvies out cards with the other.

  “So, tell me,” he says, peeking at his facedown card, “why aren’t you sleeping?”