She peeled off her damp panties and padded into the bathroom to shower. Within moments of stepping under the hot spray, of picking up a bar of organic soap, her irritation began to ebb. During the months she had used Maddie’s body, she had developed a taste for products.
This century offered so many varieties of everything. The organic soap, scented with jasmine, soothed her. She loved the expensive organic shampoos that left her host’s hair as soft as an infant’s skin, and organic creams that kept her beautiful skin youthful. She even used a special foam product for shaving her legs and underarms, plucked her brows regularly, used a beet-red polish on her fingernails and toenails.
She tried to take good care of Maddie’s body, but without making herself crazy. Maddie would argue that point, would say that brujos were unhygienic slobs who didn’t bathe frequently enough, but Dominica felt it was a matter of perspective.
When Dominica had initially seized her, Maddie was a vegan. Within a few weeks, that diet proved too boring for Dominica and she gradually introduced fish, chicken, eggs, and dairy products into Maddie’s diet. Maddie also had been a runner, her thighs and calves beautifully sculpted, hard as rock. Running didn’t interest Dominica, so she compensated with daily bike rides, plenty of walking.
How different from her last physical life in the fifties, a kind of half life, forty years that she and her lover, Ben, had spent in the bodies of a husband and wife who were lawyers. In the fifties, exercise freaks and vegans were a rare breed. But because the ancient brujos were able to keep their human hosts at an optimum level of health, she and Ben didn’t have to be runners and vegans.
Ben. She still missed him. Other than Wayra, he had been her lover the longest. Maddie’s aunt Tess had annihilated him in Key Largo, in his host body, when Dominica and Ben had been pursuing Tess to kill her. She had seized Maddie, in part, to get even with her aunt.
Dominica took great care to keep her thoughts hidden from Maddie. She suspected the young woman was doing the same thing. In the early days of their relationship, memory bleeds were frequent and worked both ways. Now, it rarely happened. A part of Dominica missed those early days, when she and Maddie were just getting to know each other.
She scrubbed away the unpleasantness with Wayra, with Maddie’s escape, all of it. When she was finished, she wrapped a thick, fluffy towel around her body, wrapped another around her hair, and stood in front of the closet, debating about what to wear. Something casual, perhaps with a shawl, since it was supposed to get considerably cooler tonight. She put on a khaki skirt, wrapped a black shawl around her shoulders, then folded the ends over her breasts and tied them in back. She brushed out her host’s hair and blew it dry, eyeing herself in the mirror.
“You’re really quite lovely, Maddie,” she remarked.
Silence.
Footfalls echoed on the stairs outside and Whit strolled into the house without knocking. “Nica?”
“Back here,” she called, and stepped into the bedroom doorway, one finger at her lips, her other hand lifting the skirt at one side, revealing Maddie’s beautiful leg, thigh, making it clear she wasn’t wearing panties.
His host’s eyes went dark; Whit peered out of them completely now. He kicked off his shoes, tore off his sweater and shirt, and came toward her quickly, unzipping his jeans. “What’re we doing?”
She untied the shawl so that it fell away from her host’s shoulders and breasts. “We’re going to break Maddie,” she said, and dropped back onto the wonderfully soft bed, threw her arms out at her sides, and Whit ripped off the rest of his clothes and fell on her like the hungry beast he was.
* * *
Maddie didn’t struggle. Her essence, her consciousness, vaulted from her body.
From the moment Dominica had called Whit and told him to meet her at the house, Maddie had suspected what her punishment would be. So when Whit had walked into the house, she was prepared. The moment they fell back onto the bed, she soared away.
Her consciousness moved upward into the early evening, looking for Sanchez, Wayra. Without consciousness, her body would function at a physiological level, just as it did when people traveled out of body during sleep. But its animations, sensations, and emotions would originate in Dominica. Since Maddie refused to experience what amounted to rape, Dominica’s ploy wouldn’t break her. And she would be sure to block Dominica’s memories of this encounter from her own awareness when she returned to her body.
She thought herself through town, focused on Sanchez, then Wayra, then Sanchez again, waiting for a telling tug. But the only tug she felt was north along State Road 24, the single road to or from the island. She seemed to be able to regulate her movement and altitude through her thoughts and desires. Go here, turn there, lift up, drop lower. She passed familiar landmarks—the Island Market, the Back Bayou, the first two bridges, then the third, and finally the fourth bridge. A cluster of bright lights beyond the fourth bridge drew her down. She hovered like a butterfly just above several large trucks and two dozen workmen who were erecting a barbed-wire fence across the bridge. Behind them was another crew putting up a concrete wall. A foot or two separated the two barriers. On either side of the bridge were two Coast Guard cutters.
It looked as if the area were being blocked off. But why?
Maddie thought herself west across the water to the Cedar Key cemetery, a place that everyone in Dominica’s tribe avoided; cemeteries reminded them that they were dead. She drifted along the coast to the farthest reaches of the island, then south toward the island airport. She counted six more Coast Guard vessels, strategically placed around the four bits of land that comprised the island. She drifted over the airport, expecting to see choppers, planes, evidence of an invasion. But there were only three planes tied down, two single engines and one twin, and nothing on the runway. The airport didn’t have a tower and the only planes that landed here after dark were those that belonged to the people who lived in the ritzy homes along the airstrip. They controlled the landing lights.
She picked up speed, returned to the fourth bridge, and thought herself to the other side of it. Access to the fishing pier was denied. Ditto with the boat launch. A handful of cars waited in front of a concrete wall while cops walked from vehicle to vehicle, talking with drivers, who handed over something, probably licenses and registrations. The first car made a U-turn and headed back toward Gainesville.
What the hell.
Maddie drifted in closer, hoping to hear what the cops were saying. At first, the voices sounded muffled, as though people were underwater. But the longer she hovered there, the clearer the voices became. The words they said differed somewhat each time, but amounted to the same message: You’ll have to turn back. This area is now under quarantine.
Quarantine?
Her thoughts raced, and pieces of Dominica’s immense and complex puzzle slammed together. Maddie guessed the bodies of people killed here in town had been discovered in the landfills. She suspected the autopsies had revealed an unknown virus or bacteria in every single victim. But it was actually a substance brujos created within their host bodies to facilitate their existence in the physical world. Her own body was filled with it. The mayor’s body reeked of it. Bean, Rich, Sam, Marion, all of them had it. They were all contaminated with this brujo shit. She had no idea what the long-term effects might be. Dominica didn’t seem to know, either. But if that was what the quarantine was about, then life on Cedar Key was about to take an abrupt ninety-degree turn into hell. Quarantine the place, isolate the people who hadn’t been seized, drive them into hiding not only from the brujos but from the government as well. A quarantine would make it just that much easier for Dominica and her tribe to take over the island.
Alarmed and terrified, Maddie retreated—and snapped back into the bedroom. She stared down at her body and that of the mayor, grunting and humping each other like a couple of dogs. She felt strangely removed from her physical self, as though she were watching a movie, some clip of a porno film. She suspe
cted the mayor’s mind and soul had been broken some time ago. She hoped so, for his sake.
She thought herself away from the sordid scene and concentrated on Sanchez, on the way his mouth had tasted when he had kissed her, on what he’d said to her. I’ll find you.
I’ll find you first, she thought, and wheeled up through the roof of the house, out toward the moon, the stars, and then across town again. She found Sanchez leaving his motel room, an old motel that dated from the fifties. Most of the brujos ignored the place. It just wasn’t the kind of motel where they would find hosts worth their time and effort. Even these young, reckless ghosts sought hosts who were young, fit, and sexually active. Tourists that fit that description didn’t stay in this motel.
But idiosyncratic men with dogs did.
Sanchez and Jessie were walking toward a lime-green VW. Like before, the dog sensed her before Sanchez did. The retriever wagged her tail, barked, and tried to rub against Maddie. Sanchez whispered, “I feel her around, too. Red? You here or am I nuts?”
The island’s being quarantined. That’s going to make it easier for the brujos to take over Cedar Key. Get out of here while you still can. Go by boat.
“I’m not going anywhere until you’re with me.”
You don’t even know me, Sanchez. You kissed some spaced-out chiquita who rode on dolphins. I’m a fucking mermaid, okay? Just leave. Now. Fast.
“For Chrissake, Maddie, don’t tell him to leave.”
Her grandfather, Charlie Livingston. Man in white. Man in white with cigar tucked behind his ear. Man in white who was no more substantial than she was. Man in white who was a member of the chasers and stood right next to her. Ghost, chaser, grandfather, whatever, his body looked solid. Did she even have the illusion of a body?
Maddie looked down at herself. Okay, this was good, she had a sort of body. Looked solid, felt solid; it would do.
“In this state, Maddie, you can look like Cinderella if you want to.”
Cinderella? Was he serious? “Man in white who allowed this travesty to continue for months,” she screamed, stabbing her hand at him. “Don’t tell me what to say or not to say. You could’ve stopped this whole thing and didn’t. And Cinderella? Christ, Charlie. At least choose a less offensive fairy tale.”
Charlie drew back, eyes widening, obviously shocked by the vitriol in her voice. Maddie immediately wondered about the voice part of this equation. Technically, she was outside of her physical body but inside a body slapped together from her thoughts and beliefs or something. And she was in this situation because a ghost possessed her real body. In the event that she lived long enough to make sense of any of this, she seriously doubted she would ever tell it to anyone.
“You finished with your rant?” Charlie asked.
“My rant? Do you know what Dominica is doing with my body right now?”
“Your body is being used by the mayor of Cedar Key. But technically, it’s not rape, he’s, uh, having some problems. Besides, you aren’t there. For that matter, neither is he. Now, are you going to hear me out or not?”
“Easy for you to say, Charlie. It’s not your body that’s being defiled.”
“I don’t have a body any more than you do right now.”
“Whatever. Talk away. But the bottom line doesn’t change. Whether I’m in my body or elsewhere is irrelevant. It’s my body. And the bitch is using my body as a weapon against me. That’s terrorism.”
“Yes, it is. That’s what they do, Maddie. It’s how they’ve survived for centuries.”
“‘Survive.’ That’s a curious word, you know? In human terms, it implies breath, a heartbeat, warm skin. These fucks are parasites, Charlie.”
“I can’t argue with you. ‘Parasitic terrorists’ fits them perfectly.” He paused and fiddled with his Zippo, flicking it open and shut. “What you did today was courageous.”
“It was desperation, not courage.”
“The fact that you were saved by a couple of dolphins has already added to your urban-legend status among the members of Dominica’s tribe. Even though she’s trying to spin this to make it look like it was intentional on her part, most of them know she lost control of you. No one—except Wayra—has ever duped Dominica in that way. You’re her match. You’ve got to spin the narrative to your advantage.”
“Great. Now I’m FOX News. The problem with my spinning anything is that she controls my vocal cords.”
“Go back. Play on her fears. Be a Livingston. She won’t survive it. Make her think she’s winning, Maddie. That will make her reckless, careless.”
“But she is winning. Once this quarantine is in place, Cedar Key becomes a brujo paradise.”
“Or a brujo prison,” Charlie said.
Another ghost came into view, an attractive woman with auburn-colored hair, soulful hazel eyes. She touched Sanchez’s shoulder—and her hand went right through him. “Oh, I hate it when that happens,” she said softly.
“The dog sees you, Jenean,” said Charlie. “And Nick definitely felt it. Maddie, this is Jenean, Nick Sanchez’s mother. She’s helping us out with this brujo mess.”
“You’re a chaser?” Maddie exclaimed.
Jenean’s quick, bright smile could light up the dark side of any planet. “No. I’m just helping out and trying to make amends to my son for everything I failed to do when I was alive.”
“Can Sanchez see you?” Maddie asked.
“When I choose to make myself visible and when he’s in the right frame of mind. At the moment, he’s, uh, completely freaked out by what has been happening. He’s quite taken with you.”
“Why don’t you stick with Nick, Jenean, and I’ll get Maddie back to her body.”
“Unless the mayor is finished with me,” Maddie said, “I have zero desire to return to my body, Charlie.”
Jenean looked sympathetic and patted Maddie’s shoulder. “Just do what Charlie suggests.”
It irritated Maddie that these two ghosts—her grandfather and Sanchez’s mother—gave her advice about how to act, about the decisions she should make, about how she should feel. What the hell did they know about anything? Neither of them could feel what she did, could understand the horror of being imprisoned within your own body, of not being able to move your arms or legs in the way you wanted, of not being able to take a crap when you wanted, of not being able to do a damn thing unless Dominica allowed it.
“Please, no advice, okay?” Maddie said. “You two are more powerless than I am. At least I’m still alive.” Sort of.
Charlie and Jenean exchanged a glance that suggested they were on the same page of … well, something. Charlie finally said, “The mayor’s essence is withering up, dying. If he dies, Whit won’t be able to use the body. He’s having trouble performing sexually because of it. The only way brujo possession works is if the body is shared by the host’s essence. Even if the host essence is broken, shriveled up in some virtual brujo cell, a brujo can use it as long as the essence is alive. When Esperanza was a nonphysical place, it was possible for a brujo to simply take over the body while the person’s essence was gone. But once we brought Esperanza into the physical world, the rules changed.”
“Suppose I stay out of my body indefinitely?” Maddie asked.
“Then eventually your body would die, Maddie. Even Dominica isn’t powerful enough to animate a host body by herself.”
“Does she know that?”
“She used to know. But until she seized you, it had been years since she occupied a body for any length of time and she may have selective amnesia about it. I think that’s what tonight’s punishment is really about. Her tribe is operating under the assumption that the bodies they seize are theirs to use however they want even if the host’s essence dies.”
“They’re such vile beings,” Jenean said, then wagged her fingers and followed Sanchez and the dog to his VW.
Charlie and Maddie moved across town to the house, drifted through the wall, and stood in the bedroom doorway. Maddie felt strange
staring at her half-covered body, arms thrown over her head, her hair fanned out beneath her, the mayor lying beside her. In the moonlight that streamed through the windows, their bodies looked waxen.
“Jesus, I don’t know what happened,” Whit was saying.
“It’s okay,” Dominica told him. “Your host is in that age group, Whit. It’s why so many of them take Viagra.”
“Obviously, the next time we try this, I need a younger host.” He sat up, swung his legs off the bed. “And you need to have someone other than Maddie.”
“I know. It was a mistake.”
“Let’s get a bite to eat.”
“I should get over to the hotel. Why don’t you bring us takeout from Annie’s Café?”
Charlie touched Maddie’s arm—and she fought with herself about how it wasn’t really a real arm, on a real body, even though it felt real—and tilted his head toward the bed. You’ll be okay now. I’m always nearby, Maddie. And remember what I told you. Play on her fears. Be a Livingston.
Why should I do what you tell me to do? Why should I believe anything you say, Charlie? Aunt Tesso says you’ve been manipulating her since day one. She isn’t here now, so you’re manipulating me. Fuck that.
Then go ahead and stay out of your body, hon, and I’ll be seeing you on my side of life right quick. Look, this is really complicated, okay? Chasers aren’t gods and we’re badly outnumbered.
Maddie hesitated. She didn’t intend to die; she was just nineteen years old. She had stuff to do, places to see, she had dreams. Never mind that she couldn’t think of a single goal except to free herself and see Sanchez again. Never mind that even if she liberated herself, she would be forever contaminated with this brujo shit coursing through her bloodstream. Never mind that she would be damaged. She refused to allow this bitch to steal her life any longer than she already had.
She slipped back into her body and apparently did it without Dominica being aware of it. She immediately erected a wall around her memories and her awareness. Even so, she felt Dominica’s irritation that Whit’s host had been unable to maintain an erection.
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