After Moonrise

by P. C. Cast

  “What you are doing with this girl?” Lana snapped the question to Raef, her accent suddenly becoming more pronounced with her annoyance. “She should be working with a medium. If Vivian Peterson isn’t the right choice there in Tulsa, bring her here to me.”

  “Her sister was murdered—that’s why she’s here with me, not because I’m into overtime or trying to poach someone’s clients. You should know that,” Raef said, not caring that he sounded as pissed as he felt.

  Lana’s expression softened and she brushed back a strand of bright red hair from her forehead. “Sorry, Raef. You are right. I’ve been going through my own sudas lately.”

  “Which makes you the shithead?” he said with a quick smile.

  “Taip. Definitely. And now that we’ve established that, I am ready to listen.” Lana picked up a legal pad and a pen. “Tell me what has happened.”

  Raef quickly recapped Aubrey’s death and the events that had followed, reluctantly admitting everything, even the fact that he could feel her softer emotions, and ending with her latest manifestation in his living room. While he talked, Lana took notes, asked just a few pointed questions and looked grimmer and grimmer. When he was done she sighed and ran her hand through her fiery hair again.

  “Do you know what he is? This murderer who steals souls?” Lauren asked into the silence.

  “I do, but only through rumor and what amounts to fairy tales used to frighten children.”

  Lauren looked confused and Lana smiled. “I should clarify and say fairy tales used to frighten psychic children.”

  Raef felt a sliver of shock and sat up straighter. “The murderer is a psychic.”

  “Taip,” Lana agreed. “But more specifically, the murderer is a psychic whose Gift has to be much like yours.”

  “Mine?” Raef shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

  “You said you felt her emotions, and they were all softer, positive emotions. That’s not the norm for you, Raef.”

  “To say the least,” he snapped.

  “And this ghost, she seems to be filled with positive emotions?” Lana said.

  Lauren nodded. “Aubrey was full of joy and positive energy in life—she still is in death.”

  “When Aubrey tries to talk about her murder, when she gets anywhere close to darker, more negative emotions, like the fear and pain and even anger or hatred that remembering what happened to her evokes, that’s when she dissipates, correct?” Lana asked.

  “Yeah, it’s like he has a hook into her that he can reel back whenever he wants,” Raef said.

  “Not whenever.” Lana continued, “Lauren, if Aubrey manifests and says nothing about her murder, if she simply visits you, does the killer pull her back to him?”

  “No, but we always end up trying to talk about her murder. She’s being drained. Even when we don’t say anything about her death at all. She’s still being drained,” Lauren said.

  “Because he’s feeding off her emotions—the negative ones—fear, pain, panic, hatred. He can’t tap into the softer emotions. My guess is he can’t even Trace her spirit when she’s feeling them.” Lana met Raef’s gaze. “He’s a psychic like you gone bad.”

  “Shit. I knew this was a cluster fuck of massive proportions,” Raef said.

  “Why? If he’s like you, then it should be easier for you to find him,” Lauren said. “Can’t you use your—” she paused and made a vague gesture with her hand “—your Gift or whatever and Track him down?”

  Raef jerked his chin at Lana. “Ask the cavalry. She’s the ghost expert.”

  Lana’s green eyes sparkled and her smile reminded Raef of a ginger cat who had just lapped a bowl of cream. “Oh, Raef can find him, but he cannot use his Gift like he usually does. The murderer has that way blocked. You already told me what happens whenever your sister tries to speak of her death.”

  “He knows it. He stops her,” Lana said. “And he hurts her more.”

  “Which proves Aubrey does know who killed her and could lead us to him—if he let her,” Raef said. “Damn! It’s frustrating as hell!”

  “Aubrey can still lead you to her killer, she just has to do so through positive emotions. Use them to Track him.”

  “Positive emotions?” Raef snorted. “How the hell do I learn about Tracking with those? Joy isn’t gonna lead me to a murder site and a serial killer.”

  “You don’t have to learn about positive emotions, sudzius. I have told you before, if you let go of your attachment to negative emotions, your soul will naturally reset itself and begin to accept and understand their opposites.”

  “And I’ve told you before—I’m not like the rest of your touchy-feely gang,” Raef said.

  “Great, you mean he has to get happy to find my sister’s killer?” Lauren said.

  “What the fuck is this, a motivational speech? I don’t have any attachments to negative emotions. Negative emotions are my damn job. I don’t need to get happy. I just need to find a murderer,” Raef told the two women.

  Both women smiled knowingly back at him.

  He considered pouring more Scotch into his tea. Instead, he faced Lana. “So, that’s the bottom line? I have to move through positive emotions to find this killer?”

  “That’s the bottom line,” Lana agreed. “Like you, the guy is a fish out of water when he’s not attached to hate and fear and pain. Let Aubrey show you how to flank him through joy and love and happiness.”

  “Flank him, huh? I knew you were a Russian spy,” Raef muttered.

  Lana grinned. “Here’s the good news. All human soul are designed to accept love and happiness and joy, or at least they are if they can let go of their attachments to hate and fear and pain. And you’re human, even though you are a man. Good luck. You’ll need it.” Lana waved a goodbye to Lauren and then disconnected the Skype call.

  Raef and Lauren sat in silence, watching the screen saver come on—a series of pictures of a North Side beach house in Grand Cayman where he vacationed every year. At that moment Raef wished desperately he had his ass in the sand and a cold beer in his hand.

  “Do you think that’s true?”

  Lauren’s question seemed loud and out of place, but weirdly enough Raef thought he knew exactly what she was asking.

  “You mean the part about all human souls being designed to accept love and happiness and joy?”

  “Yes, that’s what I mean,” she said.

  “No,” he said. “I don’t.”

  “I don’t think I do, either, but I can promise you Aubrey would think it’s true—even now. Even dead.”

  He looked at her and saw how tired she was and how dark and sunken her blue eyes were. “I guess it’s a good thing Aubrey’s leading this hunt, then.”

  “She won’t be doing anything for a while. When he jerks her back like that, so hard and so painful, it takes a lot out of her and she doesn’t manifest for hours, sometimes a whole day.”

  “It takes a lot out of you, too,” Raef said.

  Lauren shrugged. “I’m still alive.”

  “You need to rest. Let me take you home, or to your mom’s. Whichever you’d rather,” he said, disconcerted by how hollow the thought of Lauren being not alive made him feel.

  “Thanks. You’re right. I’m exhausted. You can take me to my home. Not my mother’s. Never my mother’s, no matter how out of it I am.”

  “You’re not out of it. Actually, I think you’re doing pretty damn well for someone who’s being soul
sucked by a serial killer.”

  Lauren smiled as they walked back to the car. “That shouldn’t make me feel better, but it kinda does.”

  “Hey, that’s me. Mr. Warm and Fuzzy.”

  Lauren laughed then, and Raef was taken aback by how much she suddenly reminded him of Aubrey—so taken aback that he didn’t have much to say as he drove the short way to Lauren’s house, which was in the Brookside area of Midtown Tulsa, just a few miles away.

  When he pulled up in front of the neat little bungalow, Lauren said, “Thanks, Raef. I guess I’ll see you soon.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow. Let me do some digging about this soul-sucking crap and then you and I will take another whack at working with Aubrey.”

  “Sounds like a good plan.”

  Raef went around and opened her car door for her, and when she hesitated, obviously gathering her energy to get out of the car, Raef took her arm and guided her to her feet.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll be fine from here.”

  “I’m going to make sure you stay that way,” he said.

  Lauren looked up at him, and as their eyes met and held, Raef felt a sensation deep inside him—one he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time.

  “I believe in you,” Lauren said, eerily echoing her twin. Then she went up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek softly before turning away from him and going into her dark house and leaving Raef to drive away rubbing his cheek and muttering, “Cluster fuck…a total goat-herding, cat-roping cluster fuck…”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Raef didn’t go home. Instead, still muttering to himself about unnatural disasters, he stopped by his After Moonrise office and grabbed some Psy books from a very surprised Vivian Peterson, who was their resident expert on ghosts.

  Raef didn’t like her. Never had. She was just too damn ooie-ooie. Her hair was green, for God’s sake.

  On the way back to the house he stopped for take-out pizza at the Pie Hole and a six-pack of Blue Moon beer—both the liquor store and the pizza place were within walking distance of his house.

  “Which is just one of reasons this place is so perfect for me.” Raef sighed with contentment as he chugged the first bottle of beer between bites of the Everything Pie Hole Special. He didn’t open the first research book until he’d worked his way through half of the pie and half of the six-pack. Then he started reading.

  Within fifteen minutes he was shaking his head and opening another beer. He flipped through the chapters of the first book, The Spirit Hunter’s Guide, reading quickly. “‘Possession, succubus infestation, poltergeists, noxious aroma invasions…’” Raef read aloud. “This ghost stuff is some seriously not right shit.” He swigged another beer and tossed that book aside, picking up a slimmer volume titled Shamanic Retrieval. Paging through it Raef found essays sectioned off with the titles “Soul Theft and Loss,” “Souls Lost to Love” and finally “Retrieving a Stolen Soul.”

  “About damn time,” he said under his breath and began to read.

  Retrieving a stolen soul must be done with skill and care. Remember, we must act in harmony with the universe—harming others, even others who have stolen souls, puts us out of harmony.

  Raef snorted. “Like I give a fuck?” He kept reading.

  Soul thieves usually take spirits because they believe they need the power to live. This is rarely true. Only one psychic in thousands can actually feed from the energy of another’s soul. The problem is some less than scrupulous psychics can convince themselves that they can use the power of another—therein you find a soul thief.

  “The problem is the asshole I’m dealing with can feed from souls.” Raef continued.

  Because of the power attachment to the stolen soul, it is complicated to convince the thief to release it. There are two basic ways to attempt, with responsibility to universal order, to retrieve a stolen soul.

  Then in bold writing Raef read:

  1) Offer the thief a gift to replace the soul. Sometimes an animal spirit can be traded for the human soul.

  “That sucks for the poor dog,” Raef said.

  2) Trick the thief by distracting him or her, and then pull the soul away yourself. Of course, this takes the well-honed skills of a shaman or a medium, and should not be attempted by a psychic with a different Gift. To do so may cause harm to the thief and, possibly, the stolen soul, as well as the inexperienced psychic.

  Raef sat back, sipping his beer and thinking. Should he bring in another psychic like Lana? He didn’t give a shit about the thief’s safety—the guy was a killer. Even though he’d rather not get his own ass in a bind, he wasn’t particularly worried about himself. Raef had been handling his own shit for decades. He did care about Aubrey, as well as her sister—which was almost as irritating as it was unusual.

  It just wasn’t normal for him to care.

  “Hell, this isn’t a normal case,” he reasoned aloud. “And this isn’t a normal soul stealing, either,” Raef rationalized aloud. “It’s a murder. The soul part is only secondary. So, the ooie-ooie crap needs to take second place to the murder. And I’m the right man to take care of the murder part.” He reread number two. “‘Trick the thief by distracting him or her, and then pull the soul away yourself.’ How ’bout I do the distracting, like get this guy arrested and put away for life, and Aubrey just runs like hell—so to speak.”

  Nodding to himself, Raef paged through, skipping the sections on “Restoring a Soul’s Light” and “Finding Shattered Souls,” but stopping at the heading “Retrieving Souls from the Land of the Dead.”

  The Land of the Dead is not the equivalent of a Christian heaven or hell. It is not one of the three layers of the Otherworld. It is a place for lost and broken souls—be they dead or alive. It is a dangerous place, even for a trained shaman or medium. It’s filled with hopelessness. Sometimes shattered souls can be found there. Sometimes soul thieves choose the Land of the Dead as a holding place for their victims. Whether you are healing a shattered soul or retrieving a stolen one, enter the Land of the Dead without protection and experience, and you risk becoming lost, too.

  “Jackpot!” Raef said. “Definitely sounds like the place I need to go.” He skipped the rest of the warnings and went straight to the heading titled “Entering the Land of the Dead.”

  Begin by lighting a candle. You are seeking shadow and smoke, death and darkness, you will need to keep a light close to you, both figuratively and literally.

  Reluctantly, Raef got up and went to his bedroom where he always kept a vanilla candle ready to burn. He used to like the way the candlelight flickered off his wife’s smooth skin. Kathy had been lush and sexy, and the warm light of a flame used to make her look like a love goddess come to earth. Of course, he hadn’t actually burned the damn candle in years, not since his wife had decided she couldn’t live with his job—or in her words, I can’t stand what your job does to you, Raef. It makes you sad, and nothing I do ever changes that.

  Raef paused halfway back to the living room, candle in hand. “Why the fuck am I thinking about that? Kathy’s been gone five years. The candle only stayed because I like the way it smells.” Raef stifled a sigh of annoyance. So, yeah, it would be nice to see another naked woman in candlelight, but that hadn’t happened in a long time. “Too long,” he said as he lit the vanilla candle and picked up the book and the beer again. “All right, what next?”

  Shamanic battles of life and death can happen in the Land of the Dead. If you attempt to go
there you must be skilled and courageous and well protected.

  “Yeah, yeah, get to it,” he mumbled.

  The Land of the Dead can be found past the Otherworld boundary. Think of the Otherworld as if it were an ancient map when man believed the world was flat, and if you went too far you fell off into nothingness. That nothingness is the Land of the Dead.

  To find it, keep the light of your candle strong in your mind’s eye. Then begin to meditate upon the reason for your quest. A shaman or medium can Track a soul with the help of his or her Gift.

  “Huh.” Raef snorted. “I’m not an ooie-ooie shaman or a medium, but I can Track things. Usually murderers, but whatever. Nothing is normal about this case. Maybe I can Track more than I thought I could, or at least when it comes to Aubrey and Lauren maybe I can.” He kept reading.

  Know that once you have Tracked the soul to the Land of the Dead, your psychic Gift will cease to work. You must use mortal guile and your own wisdom to retrieve the lost one.

  “First good news I’ve heard yet,” he said, chuckling softly.

  Raef closed the book and looked at the candle. He stared at the flame until it seemed as if the light was burned into his mind.

  Then he began thinking of Aubrey.

  She made him feel joy.

  She laughed. She laughed a lot, especially for a dead girl.

  She was blonde and beautiful and had a sparkle that even death couldn’t dim.