Phantasm

by Phaedra Weldon

  “I’m fine . . .”

  I saw Joe in the botanica side, kneeling beside Daniel’s body. His silhouette was moving in front of the fireplace. He looked so sad.

  I heard the tink noise again.

  With a glance at Cooper, I walked into the botanica side and stood beside the body, beside Joe.

  “He’s gone, Zoë,” he said in a soft voice. “It used him, then bailed. Whatever a Horror is.” He sighed. “The witness identified the person who attacked him as Detective Frasier. And then Rhonda called me—the surveillance tapes showed the person that openly attacked their man was Daniel as well. One of our uniforms spotted him, and we followed him here.”

  “He—” I started, then blinked several times to keep the tears back. “He wanted me to come with him. He said Archer was his first goal, and I was his second.”

  “Yeah, I can believe that.” He stood and looked at me, then he looked past me to Dags, then he looked behind him at the floor, at the underwear.

  Mine, and Dags’s.

  And then Joe looked sadder than I ever thought possible. The smirk was gone, and his shoulders slumped. “You made love.”

  It was in a small voice—only for my ears. I didn’t have to answer. I didn’t want to. I wasn’t ashamed of what we’d done—well—was I?

  The tinking noise happened several more times, only louder.

  Joe wasn’t anyone to me romantically—so why would I care what he thought? And why would he care as well?

  “So . . . he finally did it, eh?”

  I nodded. Again surprised that he seemed to know Dags’s feelings when I hadn’t.

  “Was it good?”

  Ah—how rude! “That’s none of your business.”

  “You’ve been waiting how long for Daniel to bone you?” Joe looked hateful. “Was it worth it? Was it your touch that made him go all evil like that? Was it something inside of you, Zoë? That thing I saw kill Rhonda?”

  I took a step back—what was he saying? He thought Daniel and I had made love—and Dags had walked in on us?

  “Wait—you’ve got it all wrong. I didn’t—”

  “Spare me the details. Conquest made. Daniel’s dead. I guess I’m pretty lucky I’m not one of those on your list.” He turned to go as Dags came to stand next to us.

  “Tim says”—he looked at Joe—“something’s not right.”

  Joe glared at the floor. “Daniel’s dead, Dags. There’s nothing right here.”

  “No.” Dags was shaking his head, and I noticed that his palms were in tight fists. But the glow was still visible between his fingers. “There’s something else. Something . . . building.”

  Joe sighed and moved around us, into the other room. Dags turned and looked at me. “Are you okay?”

  I stared at him. I wasn’t angry—I was just—

  Numb.

  That’s when I heard it again, but it was a plink this time. Of something metal hitting wood? “Did you hear that?”

  “I’ve been hearing a lot of things.” He reached out to touch my arm, but I pulled away. I don’t know why—but I just didn’t want to be touched at that moment. Not with Daniel dead at my feet.

  Dags took a step back, and he looked away. “I understand.”

  Oh hell. I couldn’t deal with all the drama just then—we’d made love. But that didn’t make us lovers. The lover I’d convinced myself I wanted was dead, and Joe—

  Joe was—

  “Captain—the ME’s here!”

  “Good—everyone clear out. Let him have some space.”

  I moved away, back to the tea shop. I could feel Dags behind me—

  And something else.

  Rhonda yelled out first before I heard the scuffling. I turned at the same time Joe did and saw Daniel wrestling with Dags. He managed to kick his foot into Dags’s leg, and the Guardian went down on his back. Joe surged forward and grabbed at Daniel. Daniel reached out with a strength I’d never seen and shoved Joe back by his face—but not before reaching into Joe’s shoulder holster and removing his gun.

  I ran back toward the botanica as Daniel brought the gun up and aimed it at Rhonda. I was jumping in front of Rhonda, knocking her back—

  There was a crack—

  “Zoë!”

  24

  I’D never been shot before.

  So I didn’t know I had been. I remembered going after Rhonda—with my heroic and yet stupid attempt to push her out of the way. And then I was knocked away from her and into something immovable. I think it was the doorframe—that opening between the botanica and the tea shop. Things happened in a weird time frame—like everything had been slowed down. I was looking up, but I was also on my side—kind of like in stereo.

  And nothing was moving—or wanted to move. It was like I was just inside of myself but had no control, even if I tried.

  I could see Daniel standing to my right—still standing in the doorway between the two shops. He had someone next to him—a woman—or was it a girl? The images were blurring really fast. But I know he was looking at me.

  The girl screamed, and I recognized Rhonda. Daniel—his shirt riddled with holes and blood—his hair disheveled—had his right hand around Rhonda’s throat, clutching her neck. I could hear Cooper too—and he was yelling at Daniel to let Rhonda go.

  But Daniel was talking—and none of it made sense.

  “. . . not good, not good. Damnit . . . you stupid bitch, you weren’t supposed to get shot . . .”

  I was amazed at his words—had he really called me a bitch? And who was it that got shot?

  There was more screaming, and the pressure in the room changed. I recognized the sound in my ears—like the roar of a tornado—and the smell. The scent of burned air, of something electrical on fire. And then I watched as Daniel and Rhonda disappeared, much the way Dags and I had disappeared months ago when summoned by Allard Bonville.

  Into the Abysmal.

  A dam burst at that moment, and pressure built up from somewhere in my chest. There was pain, but it was like an echo of what it should be. I was cold, and it was hard to breathe. I tried to breathe faster, but it wasn’t working—

  And then I was choking. There was something in my throat, and I was coughing it up.

  “. . . nicked a lung. Someone get that damned ME in here—”

  “But he’s a dead-body doctor—”

  “He’s still a doctor—do what I said! And get on the horn—we’re gonna need an ambulance.”

  I heard all of this from a distance. I saw Joe holding someone who was trying to get to me—someone with dark hair and eyes—someone whose body seemed to glow with a golden light.

  It was hard to breathe—and I didn’t really want to anymore.

  Zoetrope . . .

  Oh, I hated that name. Hated it more when Mom used it.

  Come here, honey. There’s something I need to show you . . .

  I looked around but couldn’t find the voice.

  “Mom . . .” I heard myself say out loud.

  Mommy’s not here—but she’s safe. I need you here—please, Zoetrope. Be a good girl.

  But I was always a good girl.

  Joe and the man with the golden halo blurred away, and I could hear him call my name.

  I’D been here before—in that place that wasn’t a place. I remembered sitting here, as I was sitting now, on the back porch of Mom’s house. Jemmy’s house wasn’t there anymore across the way. But Jemmy was. She was walking over the field with the darkening sky, the smell of rain in the air, and there was someone by her side. But he was all transparent, like a ghost in a movie.

  I wasn’t alone on the porch either. Tim was sitting on the steps, his back against the railing as he read a book. I could see the cover—it was Siddhartha—Mom had read it once. And Steve was sitting beside me in one of the rocking chairs.

  “Good to see you again,” Steve said. “It’s been rough this past month.”

  I nodded. “So—am I dead?”

  “Not yet.”
/>
  That was reassuring. I pursed my lips. After nearly a month of not speaking—I wasn’t sure what to say to him. Even though I had my voice.

  Tim looked up at me, a smile on his face. “You finally got boned.”

  I sneered at him. “I guess you were watching?”

  He shivered. “Breeder sex? Oh God, no.”

  Jemmy was nearly to the house now—her straw hat flopping in the wind. The person with her wasn’t as clear as before, as if the closer he got to the house, the dimmer he became. I leaned forward, aware suddenly that I was in my jeans and sweater. My hair was down and flying all over the place. I wasn’t wearing my black pants, turtleneck, and bunny slippers.

  Where were my slippers? I missed my bunnies.

  The doorbell rang, and Steve stood. “I’ll get it. That’ll be A.”

  “A?” I turned in my chair as Steve moved into the house. The back door was gone, and I could see through to the front door. A man was at the door, dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans. I thought at first it was Joe—until he followed Steve through the house, and I realized he was someone I’d never seen before.

  He was tall, and wiry, Hispanic, with a beautiful face and a ponytail of blue-black hair. His eyes weren’t as dark as I thought they’d be, and his nose was more Roman than Spanish. He moved to my right and nodded to me. “It’s nice to see you, Zoetrope.” His English was spiked with just a slight accent.

  “Do I know you?”

  “You can call me A.”

  I nodded. That was good.

  “You mind if I sit?” He pointed to the chair that Steve was in. But Steve was now on the steps with Tim, and they were playing a game of backgammon.

  “No, sure. Cop a squat.”

  Jemmy was nearly to the steps. It was really taking her a long time. The man was no longer with her—in fact, there was no sign he’d ever been there.

  “You see the crossroads?”

  He was pointing past Jemmy. I stood up and looked, hooding my eyes with my right hand. It was bright, but there wasn’t a sun. I hadn’t noticed it before—but yeah there was a crossroads. Just to the right of the house. “Was that always there?”

  “Nona bought this house because it used to be,” A said. “This was farmland, and that was where the roads crossed.” He started to rock, and I turned and looked at him, the wind at my back. “You’ll have to walk out there soon.”

  I nodded. I kinda knew that. “Have to? What happened to free will?”

  “That’s my fault, Zoetrope. Most of what’s happened is my fault. I wanted you to have a normal life—and I planned on it. I sacrificed a part of myself to ensure you wouldn’t be an Irin—but in the end I failed both you and your mother.”

  “Failed?”

  He didn’t answer me at first, and then, “All your young life I tried to shield you from the planes and their existence. But your light drew them to you. Until you were twelve and finally you were made invisible. But then you were pushed into your destined existence again by your death in Piedmont Park—and because you were touched by the Abysmal before you could attain your full destiny—now you are a Wraith.” He sighed. “I failed in protecting you—in giving you a safe, normal life.”

  I wasn’t sure what this man was talking about. I already kinda knew my being a Wraith was bad, and at the same time good. Which was just a little freaky from my point of view.

  I had my hands up. “Wait, wait, wait—I died in Piedmont Park?”

  “When you were raped, Zoetrope. He stabbed and killed you. But because you were Irin, your body survived. Even when you were away from it.”

  “But—” I shook my head. “I—when I touched Holmes at the warehouse, I was in my body—”

  “Ah.” He nodded slowly. “Sí. That was the beginning of all of this. I wish I had the time to explain everything to you—”

  Tim checked his watch. “You got about two minutes, A.”

  “I know,” the stranger said. “Zoetrope—there is a key—in your mother’s house. You have to find that key and use it. It’s the only way to save the world.”

  “Save the world?” I laughed at him. “Aren’t you being a bit melodramatic?” I frowned at him. “You’re not gay are you?”

  “Hey,” Tim said.

  But A only smiled. “No. I’m not. But you need to listen to me, and to your friends. They’ll guide you. Both the living”—he looked at the fields visible from the porch—“and the dead.”

  “But I can’t see the dead anymore. Or even touch them. I’m not a Wraith anymore.”

  “True—that part of you was hidden, and you’ll have to get it back. And right now, the only way you can do that is to be the Irin.”

  Irin.

  There’s that word again.

  He stood. “I don’t have enough time, Zoetrope. You’re dying, and there at the crossroads you’ll have to exchange places.” He moved inside the house, and I followed him. “She’s not strong enough to do what needs to be done.”

  A stepped into the kitchen and scooted a stepstool I didn’t recognize over to the cabinets beside the refrigerator. There he stood on the stool and reached over the top, to a place I couldn’t see. His hand came back clutching what looked like a tin box. And when he stepped down and set the box on the counter, I recognized Mom’s old Animal Cracker box, the one with the cages with animals on it.

  It was made of tin and had a lock on the front. It looked vintage.

  “Find the key, Zoë. And you can use my mistake to make it right.”

  I looked at him, and it was like looking in a mirror. “What mistake did you make?”

  He reached out and put his hand on my cheek. My body tingled, and my physical body involuntarily jumped.

  A voice from somewhere in the room yelled out, “Clear!”

  A looked up. “Not much time. You have to go.”

  “Go? Go where?”

  And then as I looked at him I recognized him. I’d only seen one picture before—one my mom had missed when she cut them all up.

  “D-Daddy?”

  “You have to go, Zoë,” he said to me in Spanish, and even though I couldn’t speak the language, I understood him perfectly. “I love you.”

  And then he was gone.

  DADDY!

  I ran to the back porch. Tim and Steve were gone, but Jemmy was there, standing on the top step, holding on to the railing where Tim had been. She waved at me with her free hand. “You’d think on the other side I’d be healthier. Well, come on, girl. Time to go.”

  “Go where?”

  “Back.”

  But what was back? The crossroads were visible from the porch, as was somebody standing in the middle of them. “Who’s that?”

  “You ask a lot of questions—I don’t envy Nona her job with you.”

  I frowned down at Jemmy. In all the years she’d been palling around with my mom, I’d never heard her talk like that. Especially to me. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re not done yet,” Jemmy said. “You have to make it right—you have to stop the Horror.”

  “How?”

  “Listen to Adiran, child. Always listen to your parents.”

  Abruptly we were at the crossroads. Jemmy, me, and someone—only I couldn’t make out who. It was more of an image than a person, with no real definition. I started to address the image, but Jemmy put her hand on my arm.

  “You have to let go of Archer, honey. He’s not part of things right now. But he’ll be there—when it’s time.”

  I gave her a quizzical look. “I didn’t know he was still with me.”

  “He’s always with you. He’s a part of you.” She grinned.

  “Whether you like it or not.” She checked the dainty silver watch on her wrist. “You got to get back, now, child. And remember—you won’t be the Wraith—not until you reclaim yourself from him.”

  I blinked at her. “I won’t what? Reclaim myself?”

  She shook her head. The breeze was kicking up, and the sky darkened. I wasn’t s
ure if the storm was coming, or if it was already there. “I wish we had more time. But it seems we’re always cutting it too close.” She looked past me to the image. “Okay—take her back—good luck, you old fart.”

  Jemmy shoved me into the other person—

  . . . Mama?

  25

  “WE got a pulse!”

  “We need to intubate—tilt her head this way—”

  “It’s not possible he got up and walked out of here . . . he was full of bullets . . .”

  “There are bullets all over the floor—maybe they fell out?”

  “Bullets don’t fall out of a body, Mohan.”

  All these voices greeted me just as a miasma of incredible, burning pain in my chest heralded my arrival back to the land of the living. The physical plane. Breathing was damned difficult and I was choking as something was shoved down my throat. I couldn’t move—and there was something coppery in my mouth.

  “Get her still—get that IV in—we need to calm her down. She’s fighting us.”

  “She’s not gonna make it, is she?”

  I knew that voice—that was Dags’s voice. So solemn. I couldn’t open my eyes, but I needed to see him. I needed to talk to him. He could help me—I had to find the box. The tin box.

  The key.

  And then I was there, above everything looking down at the EMTs working quickly on my body. I was sprawled in the middle of the botanica’s floor. And there was blood—

  Oh fuck. Look at all that blood. All over my chest.

  There were frantic movements—from all sides. And I was watching it all—with an almost detached mind.

  And then it hit me—I mean it broadsided me. I was free.

  I was free! I was out of body and floating in the air.

  I threw my head back and screamed with delight. I twisted and whirled about, flinging my hands out to my sides. I was free, and I was powerful. It was different this time—unlike it had ever been before. I could feel the planes coursing through my soul, feeding me again. It was as if I’d been starved of life and finally been given an ocean of the purest water to drink from. And here . . . in this house . . . there was so much to take in . . .

  There were things that didn’t belong here—beings that had crossed the borders. They disobeyed. All manner of Abysmal things.