Why is she like this? James hoped to be shown an answer, when instead, a shapeless black form emerged from the woman’s forehead. It rose like a wisp of smoke and began to stretch toward him. He floated backward, trying to maintain a respectable distance. The black form spread out across the bathroom floor and continued to feel around for him, like an amoeba.
James was unsure of what to do. He backed himself against the wall outside of the bathroom, and a second black shape rose behind the first, as if seeking out a fresh host. He had never experienced this phenomenon before and wasn’t sure what would happen if either of them touched his astral form.
In his physical form, James began to tense up. His hands dropped his glasses and clutched the arms of his wingback chair. He squeezed his eyes shut. Perspiration spread across his forehead. Aubra wandered into the library and noticed his distress. She approached James and placed her palm on his forehead. She whispered in his ear, “I can help you.”
The black shapes crept closer to James as he floated into the sparsely furnished bedroom. It was airier, and more to his liking. He felt the need to be around things that made him happy. He glanced down at the desk, and saw a spiral notebook labeled IMAGE FIVE. He frowned at the notebook, unsure of its purpose, and unable to touch it. A black shape rounded the corner from the bathroom and felt around for something. He assumed it was looking for him.
What is Image?
The shape froze for a moment. James’s physical form tensed up again. Aubra kept her hand pressed to his forehead and whispered in his ear again. “Tell me where you are.”
James squeezed his eyes shut. He said through gritted teeth, “Bedroom. Black shape. Trying to touch me. Burns.”
Aubra spoke louder in his ear. “Come home.”
James shook his head. Aubra persisted.
James watched the second black shape emerge from the bathroom. The first shape crept steadily toward him. Despite his desire for answers, he didn’t feel safe anymore. He’d have to try again another time.
Return to the manor.
James opened his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. He clutched the arms of his chair and squinted at Aubra, who pulled her hand away.
“Did it touch you?”
James shook his head and gasped for air. “What was that thing?”
Aubra stuck out her bottom lip. “Bad.”
CHAPTER 13: NEW HABITS
Agnes rubbed the back of her neck and looked around the bathroom with one eye open. She felt as though a weight had been lifted as she sat upright in the bathtub. She looked down at the faint trail of urine that pooled beside the bathtub drain. Agnes reached out and turned on the faucet. The water progressively warmed up and washed away the offending liquid. Agnes stood up, removed her shirt, and tossed it into the center of the room. She pulled the shower curtain closed and washed up.
A few minutes later, Agnes turned off the faucet with a series of noisy squeaks. She patted herself dry with a towel, and looked at her pale, wan features in the mirror. Her eyes had a reddish tint around her pupils, and dark circles around her eyes. She figured a nap in her bed would do wonders after laying awkwardly in the bathtub for any length of time. Agnes wrapped a towel around her head and squeezed out as much moisture as she could. She craved a nap, but also felt hungry. She padded into the kitchen. She pulled the refrigerator door open and reviewed its contents.
Anything plain or pragmatic was hers. Anything remotely interesting or unhealthy was Gracie’s. Agnes closed the door and moved on to their modest pantry. A package of chocolate bars had been torn open and left on one of the shelves. Agnes avoided any sugary snacks, or junk food in general. She cocked her head and reached for one of the chocolate bars. She peeled away the wrapper and took a bite. Her eyes widened as the chocolatey, sugary thrill awoke her senses. Agnes took breaths through her nose but struggled to get enough air. She gasped for air through the morsel she caressed with her tongue, exploring every surface, enjoying the flavors. She looked at the partially wrapped candy bar in her hand and felt a wave of guilt.
Her eyes began to mist as she considered what she had done. She didn’t steal food from people, not even her siblings. Agnes adhered to a strict code of austerity: plain clothing, plain foods, few desires. Her stomach began to turn at the thought of her theft, and what she had stolen. This wasn’t her. This wasn’t something she did. She peeled the wrapper back and took another bite. And another. And another.
Agnes fought to breathe now, as she had crammed an entire candy bar in her mouth. She dropped the wrapper and returned to the refrigerator. She pulled a handful of hair out of her eyes and looked over the shelves. Agnes pulled a can of Blast Extra cola from a case of twelve and popped it open. She glugged the can and felt relief as the candy bar broke apart and slid down her throat in a fizzy gulp. She took another swig and wandered back to the pantry. The refrigerator door slammed shut as she grabbed another candy bar and peeled off another wrapper. She took a satisfying bite of the bar and chased it with more cola. She felt the sugary jolt course through her neck veins as she gulped down the cola and candy bar.
Agnes had a funny feeling in her throat. She tossed her head back and produced a loud belch. She put the back of her hand to her mouth, still clutching the soda can, and giggled. “Excuse me,” she said, and then erupted in laughter. Agnes took another swig of cola, and another bite of candy.
After she finished her second candy bar, she washed it down with the last of her soda. She set the empty can down on the counter and let the candy wrapper flutter down to the kitchen floor. Agnes wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and then paused to emit a short series of burps. She giggled through them and wandered into the living room.
She flopped down onto their sofa and looked across the room at the idle television. Agnes normally did not partake of television or radio. She had other interests, although now she couldn’t remember what they were. She dimly recalled something about reading, but she didn’t feel up for slogging through a book. She reached for the TV remote and pressed the power button. The large black screen displayed a logo, then a show about extreme surfing. Agnes sank back into the sofa and watched as surfers tried to conquer giant waves, with mixed results, and lots of slow-motion replays and excited announcers.
She changed the channel and saw an infomercial for the Ab Lifter. Promises of a washboard body in 30 days were made earnestly by models wearing sports bras and lycra bottoms. Agnes peeled her towel away and observed her pale tummy. She shrugged and changed the channel. She found herself getting irritable that there wasn’t anything good to eat. A few channels later provided the answer: Rodney’s Pizza Delivers! Call now! Home of the Works! Agnes nodded along as she remembered the number, then dashed off to her bedroom. She picked up her phone and dialed the number. After two rings, a young male voice came over the line.
“Hello, Rodney’s.”
Agnes paused, unsure of what to say. The person at the other end of the line blew a sigh into the phone and greeted her again.
“Yes, sorry, I would like to order a pizza. For delivery.”
“Okay, sure, what can we get for you?”
Agnes frowned. “I’m not sure. I’ve never ordered a pizza before. What do you recommend?”
Another sigh blew into the phone. “Well, if you go on our web site, you can see everything we make, and you can place your order—"
“Give me the works.”
“Uh, okay, the works, sure, I can do that. Small, medium, or large?”
Agnes felt her stomach turn. She squeezed her eyes shut and continued. “Large.”
“Okay, a large works pizza. Would you like to add a 2-liter soft drink to your order for two extra dollars?”
“Yes, yes, please.”
“And what kind?”
“Blast.”
“We have Blast One. Is that okay?”
“Yes, that’s fine.” Agnes paced back and forth, tethered to the base by the phone cord. Once the total was read out, she reached into he
r knit bag and rustled around for loose bills. She found two $20 bills and heaved a sigh of relief. She gave her address and phone number to confirm the order due to paying in cash.
“Okay, that’ll be about an hour.”
“Thank you.”
Agnes set the phone handset back into its cradle. She sat down numbly on the edge of her bed. She looked around the bare room, buried her face in her palms, and wept.
CHAPTER 14: WORK AND PLAY
Gracie struggled to stay focused on the work day. She had a date with Trixie tonight and… she caught herself using her nickname. Or “play name”, as she called it. Was that a stage name like celebrities used? Or… her mind reeled through a litany of possibilities. Annabella seemed wild, but also mature. She had her own business, but she also drove a hearse. Did she hang out with vampires or something after work? Was she into blood? Her salon décor was somewhat gothic, to Gracie’s eyes, but was it all an act? She wondered if they’d dash out of the restaurant and off to graveyard or something. Or, maybe she’d teach her how to do cross-stich. Or, they’d hop right into the sack.
That last thought found ways to cloud up any other ones, and often at the worst time. More than a handful of her phone calls were tainted with Freudian slips that she did her best to catch in time, but a few got awkward. One customer asked for Frank in Billing, who was out for the rest of the day at a doctor’s appointment. Gracie meant to say, “I’m sorry, he’s not in the office today,” but instead said, “She’s not into him.” She tried to recover by making throat clearing sounds and saying, “Sorry, he’s not in today, would you like his voice mail?” The customer didn’t sound convinced and declined after an uncomfortable pause.
Annabella continued her assault on Gracie’s phone all afternoon. Gracie took great pains to ignore it and keep it in her desk drawer, but she would occasionally root around for paper clips or other items and sneak a peek at her phone, only to instantly regret it, in that she couldn’t act on any of the suggestions or attract unwanted attention by reacting to her photos. Trixie sent her a cheesecake photo of her laying on her vinyl sofa, with her legs straight up and crossed, and an arm bent behind her head. Gracie meant to correct herself and use her actual name and try to break herself of using the other name, but came to a realization: in the salon, she was Trixie. Tonight, when Gracie picked her up for dinner, she would be Annabella.
Gracie closed her desk drawer and sat back in her chair. She was very much intrigued and enamored with Annabella, but she felt pangs of concern about Trixie. She was excited about all the possibilities and freshness of a new relationship—well, she wanted it to become a relationship, but didn’t want to ruin it by being too needy or pushy—but wondered about this play name. What was she playing, exactly, and how? And who with?
She thought back darkly to her strange nightmare from months ago. She knew that the specters called Lucie and Marti were imaginary, and yet, their words still stung her. What did Gracie have to offer her? She caught her reflection in a picture frame on her desk of she and Marc from years ago standing beside a rushing river. She used her fingers to tease her hair a bit and swiveled around in her chair to examine her surroundings. She had moved to Chicago and gotten an apartment, a full-time job, and a car. And now, she had a date with the woman of her dreams. She wasn’t going to let the women of her nightmares take this from her.
Besides, she thought, unlike them, she was invited in to her private room. Suck on that, bitches, she thought with a wry smile.
Or… she meant to think that. She had said it in just over a whisper, causing Cathy to look up over a handful of invoices. She tipped her reading glasses down and gave Gracie a stern look. “Are you done with all those POs?”
Gracie reached over to the small pile beside her computer and thumbed through them. “I’ve got… five more.”
“Five, huh? How about you finish those before patting yourself on the back?”
Gracie felt her ears redden. “What? Oh, sorry… I was just thinking about a fight I had with someone.”
Cathy looked skeptical. “What, today?”
Gracie shook her head. “No, it was a while ago. It’s stupid. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I’ll get these done.” She rolled her chair back into position and started entering the next purchase order into the computer.
A few moments later, Cathy sighed and set her pile of invoices down. “Are the girls in Billing giving you any hassles? Because I’ll say something to them, if you want.”
“No, really, it’s nothing. It’s nobody you know… they just, they just told me I wasn’t good enough for somebody, and I’m going to shove it all back in their faces.”
Cathy laughed. “What? Not good enough for who?”
Gracie kept at her data entry. “Nobody… it’s nothing.”
“Okay, seriously? Fine, let’s fix this.” She leaned toward the back of the office. “Jaime, come here.”
Gracie heard rustling from around the corner, then Jaime appeared beside her desk. “Yeah?”
“She’s having problems with somebody. You’re good at this stuff… help her out, wouldja?”
Jaime put her hand on her hip. “What’s going on?”
Gracie shrugged. “It’s nothing, really.”
Jaime smirked. “Well, if it’s nothing, why aren’t these POs done?”
“I’m working on them… almost done.” She picked up the last four and waved them at Jaime.
Jaime gestured at her inbox. “No, you’re not… I put another stack in there an hour ago. Quit goofing around and get these done already!”
Gracie gulped. “Oh, crap!”
Jaime nodded vigorously. “Yeah! Uh-huh! Crap! Let’s go!” She turned on her heel and disappeared around the corner. Gracie heard her plop down on her chair followed by papers rustling, followed by the sound of her cell phone buzzing in her desk drawer.
Quitting time wasn’t going to come fast enough today, she thought.
CHAPTER 15: DARK THOUGHTS
James sat bolt upright in his chair, trying to comprehend what he had just experienced in his ethereal form, and how Aubra knew what he had done and seen. She stood beside him, maintaining a stern gaze but saying nothing. James looked upward, wondering what the black shapes were that emanated from the half-naked woman he found lying in a bathtub. She didn’t seem to be on drugs, as best as he could tell, but she was incapacitated by something. Was it strictly those dark shapes? Or were they symptomatic of something far more serious?
He put his hand to his forehead, and Aubra leaned forward. “Did it touch you?”
James shook his head, and grimaced. “I told you, no.”
Aubra scowled. “You touched it.”
James lowered his hand and turned sharply to the girl. “I didn’t touch anything. Well, there was this woman, and she was asleep, but I couldn’t touch her anyway because I was projecting.”
“It hurt you.”
“What? Oh, well, yes… I felt a burning sensation, but it was a psychic pain, not physical. It was like a burst of negative energy or something.”
Aubra stamped her foot and scrunched her face up tighter. Instead of speaking, she raised her hands and waved them slowly over his head. James felt a tingling sensation despite the lack of physical contact. He sat stiffly in his chair, then felt himself softening up, and becoming more relaxed. She snapped her fingers and clapped her hands once, then dropped her arms to her side.
James tilted his head. “What was all that about?”
“I healed you.”
“I wasn’t hurt, I told you. See? I’m fine.”
Aubra seethed a bit, then waved him along. “Follow me.”
James watched her march toward the opposite end of the library and hoisted himself out of his seat. He walked a few paces behind her and noted that she never stopped or looked back. She pushed the door open with a bang and led him down a hallway to a window that looked out upon the rear of Eddington Manor. Gene was stacking pieces of lumber with his back to the buil
ding. She stopped at the window and gestured for James to observe. He looked through the wavy glass and shuddered a bit. He had tried a few times to make small talk with Gene, but he wasn’t very friendly, and if anything, it didn’t take much to upset him.
Aubra looked up at James. “He is not a nice person.”
James pushed his glasses up his nose. “Well, he seems like a, uh, private person. And he’s new here… maybe he just takes a while to get used to other people.”
Aubra shook her head, then sat down with her back against the wall. She signaled to James to follow her lead. He shrugged, and lowered himself to the floor, then leaned back. She reached for his hand and gave him a stern glare. She slowed her breathing and waited for James to pick up on her nonverbal cues. James slowed his breathing as well, and they closed their eyes. A moment later, their ethereal forms stood over their physical bodies. Aubra waved him along, and they passed through the wall to observe Gene as he performed his labors.
James watched for a few minutes, then turned to Aubra. “Why are we doing this? What’s wrong with using the window like normal people?”
Aubra’s stern glare persisted in her ethereal state. “We’re not normal people. And you won’t see what I want to show you by looking through a window.”
James put his hand to his mouth. “Um, Aubra, you’re naked.”
Aubra shrugged. “So are you.”
James looked down in fright. She was right! He hadn’t given it a moment of consideration from the moment they projected together, but now it felt… wrong. He wasn’t attracted to young girls, or anything like that, and up until now, were strictly observing a man working outdoors. Now he felt ashamed and wanted to avoid further embarrassment. “Could you… cover up with something?”
“You didn’t. And what difference does it make? I told you to look at him, not at me.”
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