Phantasm

by Phaedra Weldon

  And Dags—he was bound to a book. Different. Fused by magic. Had he given me that advice because of what Rhonda had done to him? Should he have died that day?

  In the end, Rhonda and I weren’t that different—selfishly saving the men we loved.

  I looked at Joe. He shrugged and gestured to Nona. Ask her. I’m still stuck back at tearing the book’s soul part. Never got beyond that.

  Rhonda nodded. “I have to live with that, Nona. The Society’s opinion is still out. They want to study Dags—to see what it is I created. All I could say was that he was half of each, Abysmal and Ethereal, bound together by his own soul. The Grimoire gives him power—but we don’t know what kind of power. All of its spells are now a part of him. I suspect he has power he hasn’t tapped.”

  “They want to study him?” All I could think of was a rat in a cage. No wonder Dags had left so suddenly. “You mean they want to control him.”

  Rhonda nodded. “I can’t change that view. Same as with you. You and he and Archer represent elements that cannot be controlled—and each has the unnerving element of a human soul. Archer’s soul is contingent on yours. They fear for the future of the physical plane.”

  I sighed. So he hadn’t been kidding when he said he was a book. But I didn’t know if that was good or bad. From the look on Mom’s face, it could be bad. But then . . . I thought of the night by the fire. Before all hell broke loose. I had fond memories of that evening—and I couldn’t stop the smile that played on my lips.

  I felt something against my neck and looked at Rhonda. She was staring at me—and what bothered me most was that I couldn’t read her face.

  37

  “WHAT’S done is done,” Mom said, breaking the awkward silence. “And hopefully, Dags will come back again.”

  I had a feeling I would see him again. I looked at Mom. “Did you consciously make a decision to not tell me about my father?”

  Mom was still glaring at Rhonda. She was not a happy camper. I was just happy it wasn’t me under the glare. “It was rash,” Mom said as she put her elbows on the table. “I think Rhonda’s decision was different than my own—because for me it was the difference in raising a daughter who would hope her father was going to come home versus the reality that he never would.”

  “You could have told me the truth.”

  She frowned. “Told a child that her father was really an angel? Not a human? That he had been a human once, then lost his physical body?” She made a rude noise. “No. That wouldn’t do. I didn’t lie when I said I didn’t know he wasn’t coming back. And even in the beginning—when he showed up after the fire—I didn’t know Adiran was really dead. Because he was there—in the flesh in front of me—not a ghost. And I loved him, and I never wanted to let go.”

  I could feel Mom’s emotion as if it were my own. The love she had for him wasn’t gone. Had never left. It was something she’d buried. Purged so she could go on and raise a child—an Irin child.

  “I didn’t know till just before he disappeared. I walked in on him one night as he shifted from physical to light. I saw his wings. He realized I was there—” She looked at me, and there were tears behind her eyes. “And he didn’t try to hide it. He didn’t explain it either. You were about to turn four—your party was that Saturday in the backyard. All he said was that something terrible was happening—and he had to fix it. I knew it was important. And I knew it had something to do with my dad’s experiments.”

  We were all silent, all watching her. Except for Rhonda. She was staring at the table.

  Mom sniffed. “He warned me that they were watching you—our child—and that you were special. But I couldn’t let you fall into their hands because they would use you. He called you an Irin—and I had no fucking idea what that meant. I just knew he was saying good-bye to me. And then he said good-bye to you as you slept, and he vanished.”

  I watched her. “He never came back.”

  “No. You waited for him to come back, but he didn’t. I saw the agony in your face, in your little body. And I hated him for it. Hated him for leaving you, and leaving me. You were so different than the other children—talking to things that weren’t there. Certain your imaginary friends were real. That bastard had left me alone to deal with that—with no idea how.”

  I was starting to see her frustration. Her pain. “The Eidolon?”

  “Yes—I saw the package wrapped in the closet. And I opened it. I knew immediately it was one of those damned stones. But when I touched it—” She frowned and held out her right hand. Her nails weren’t lacquered or filed, but clipped short. “Something shifted, and I started seeing them too—the ghosts and the spirits—and I realized the stone had a way of unlocking or summoning this ability. So if it could summon it—”

  “It could banish it,” I finished. I remembered the stone and the doll. “But—why did you wait till I was nearly twelve to use it to banish the ability?”

  “I didn’t know how to use it,” Mom said. “I had to learn. I was Domas’s niece—but that didn’t mean I believed in any of this shit.” She grinned and wiped at her face. “I thought I had the idea down, the desire and the concept, but I didn’t have the practical application. And the more the years went by, the weirder you got.”

  “Did Zoë go out of body back then?” Jemmy asked.

  Mom nodded, and I was shocked dumb. “I saw her a few times, wandering the hallways wherever we lived with whatever ghost was there. Her grades were slipping. I didn’t know what to do.”

  I knew what happened next. “Then I went into the basement—because of Bobby.”

  She nodded. “Yes. And I’d kept those presents—the ones your dad had gotten you for your fourth birthday—I’d kept them in that box with the doll and the Eidolon. What I came home to was you—sprawled on the basement floor—your head bleeding, your eyes open—the doll in your hand.” Mom closed her eyes. “I thought I’d killed you.”

  “But it worked,” Jemmy said.

  “Yes, it worked. After she came out of a small coma, Zoë was as normal and ungifted as any other American teen. Completely clueless. And there seemed to be no memory that she’d ever been different. I noticed that the cars stopped following us, the odd person, the Society people. So I moved Zoë and me—to Atlanta—and they didn’t seem to notice. And she was just the average girl.”

  Until the rape, Joe said. Then he sat forward and grabbed up his pad and pen and scribbled. NONA, DID Z DIE DURING THE RAPE?

  I closed my eyes.

  She nodded. “Yes, she did.”

  He looked at me. And you died in the living room, technically. Does death break the hold?

  I looked at Mom. “So when I came into contact with the doll again—when I went looking for something on the top shelf—”

  She nodded. “You tripped the spell again. I thought I’d done a good job just hiding the key and the doll. But the truth is I should have destroyed both.” She waved at the air. “The decision to keep knowledge about your dad from you, to protect you, was a rash one, and I’m sorry. Adiran was such a loving man, and he loved you till the day he disappeared.”

  I smiled. “I know.”

  Joe got up and went to the botanica and got the laptop and brought it to the table. He scribbled again. NONA—YOU SAID THE SOCIETY DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE IN ATLANTA.

  She nodded. “Not until Zoë’s power was released again.”

  I was staring at him. “What are you getting at?”

  Just a really sickening thought. He tapped on the computer and I moved to look. He was accessing the police’s database.

  “What are you doing?”

  He pulled up my file, saw the rape information. What he saw that I’d not seen before was the identity of the rapist. He took that name and entered it into another field. Nothing came up. Nothing. Not even a parking ticket. Pursing his lips, he typed in a few more things on a different screen and still came up with nothing.

  “Joe?” Rhonda finally said something.

  “W
hat is it?” I asked again.

  Instead of writing anything down he looked at me. A guy comes out of nowhere and kills the kid you’re with in Piedmont Park—he then kills you and rapes you—but this guy has no record. Nothing. His fingerprints are on file, but it’s as if he was never born. There’s nothing there, no history. No reason for him to do that to you.

  I nodded slowly, but I wasn’t getting it. “Yeah?”

  Joe ran his hand through his hair. It was growing a bit long, and he hadn’t shaved in a day or two. What if that was why he was there?

  Uhm . . . huh?

  What if someone or something knew the only way to release your power was to kill you? They knew that trauma or death or the combination was what released the spell? Who’s to say someone didn’t just send this guy out to do just that?

  I backed away from the table. That was just absurd. That was—I couldn’t—

  “What?” Mom was saying. “What is it? Joe? Zoë?”

  Rhonda cleared her throat. “It’s not an idea I hadn’t already thought of.”

  Mom and I looked at her. “What?” Mom said.

  “That someone or some group knew what would set Zoë free and sent that guy out to rape and kill her. Uncle March was the first to suggest it—during our meetings. Zoë’s power is all emotion-based—so strong emotion could have released it.”

  I wanted to scream at them. Someone was told or paid to do that to me? To another human being?

  Jemmy reached out to me. “Calm yourself—it’s done, child. Long ago. And that fool’s soul—may it never rest in peace—is long gone.”

  The rape was planned? It was just some sick way to make me into an Irin? But who else would know this? Besides the Society?

  There was one name that came to mind. One constant in all of this. And it seemed to know everything that I did before and after it happened.

  Maharba.

  EPILOGUE

  THINGS settled down for a bit. But like my life—not for long.

  About a week later I got a call from Captain Cooper. I’d been expecting it. We suspected he remembered being overshadowed. And he’d been there through some pretty inexplicable situations (though the tornado did cover a lot of it up).

  He asked if I had time on Friday night to meet with him at the Bridgetown Grill, across from the Fabulous Fox. I agreed, and we sat and talked for a long time.

  Cooper remembered things in snatches. He remembered seeing me do some pretty far-out things—such as flying. And he knew on some level that I—and Rhonda and Nona—wasn’t your average Georgia Peach. But what he needed more than anything was reassurance he wasn’t crazy.

  Over coffee I assured him he was sane. “It’s just that there are things out there that you can’t see. And they can’t always see you.”

  He nodded. He was in a nice suit, with white shirt and blue tie. Cooper was meeting someone next door to watch The Lion King musical. He looked older somehow, with circles under his eyes. “I just—He isn’t the same man. It’s like he’s tortured. I can see it in his eyes.”

  I kept my expression neutral.

  “And when I mention you—”

  I put my hand on his. “He threatens to kill me.”

  He sat back and sighed. “Yes. The judge ruled him insane—which caused a stink. I’m sure Boo’s parents will pursue a civil suit. Right now the case is in limbo, and he’s scheduled to be transferred to North Carolina today.”

  I sighed.

  “Zoë,” Cooper said after a brief pause. “We still haven’t found Randall Kemp. He’s completely vanished.”

  That bit of news bothered me. Randall was a loose end. Herb had actually joined the Society of Ishmael as a tech guy, along with Ron Beaumont. Rhonda believed it was better to have one’s enemies close.

  “He’ll turn up, Coop.”

  “Yeah . . . I just don’t like having him running around. And you know he’ll be after you.”

  Probably. But I wasn’t that worried. I was Wraith again, and I could catch him if I needed to.

  “So,” Cooper said, “you ever thought about using that little talent of yours for some police work?”

  I grinned at him. “You offering me a job?”

  “I’m offering you the chance to make an honest living.”

  With that, I laughed. “Send me the application. I’ll fill it out. But what would my title be?”

  He smirked. “Resident troublemaker. Eh, I’ll figure something out.” He checked his watch. “Thanks for talking with me—but I’m going to have to scoot.”

  We stood, and he paid for dinner. I left the tip. Once outside, I was amazed at how warm it still was. The sun hadn’t set yet, and there were people scattered here and there, some in business suits, some in jeans, some going to the show, and some going out to eat.

  We turned right, toward the crosswalk at the corner. “Take care of your mom for me,” he said. “I’ll be by now and then to get a good chai. Rhonda still going to work there?”

  I nodded and shrugged. “Depends. Seems she and Mom have a few kinks to work out.” Namely Dags—whom no one else had heard from.

  I caught movement to the right—and turned in time to see Daniel Frasier barreling down on me. He was running parallel with the building, along the sidewalk. He brought up a gun.

  People screamed and ran when they saw it. I froze, trying to make a decision to either drop my body and be invisible to kick-trip him, or to touch him physically and cast his soul out.

  But I never got the chance to do either. Cooper was suddenly in front of me—pulling his gun from behind him and shouting for Daniel to stop. But Daniel’s face was twisted in grief, and I saw him pull the trigger—

  Again—

  And again—

  But the bullets never hit me. They struck a passing woman, a young child, and Cooper.

  Cooper went backward into me, and I crumpled beneath him. I heard shouts and screams, then the sounds of fighting and scuffling. The gun went off again.

  There were people all around me as I scrambled to get out from under Cooper. I saw two uniformed officers—probably called in to direct traffic for the show. The other two victims were on the ground, with people gathered about. One of the officers was on his radio.

  I knelt over Cooper. His eyes were wide and there was blood—lots of blood—all over his chest. Blood came from his mouth and spattered my face. “Zoë—”

  I grabbed his hand. I could feel his soul moving at my touch. No, no, no. Not now. It’s not your time.

  “P-please . . .” he said, and I leaned. “D-Don’t let them put me on machines—”

  And then I saw the mask. The skull. The telltale sign that told me this person’s death was imminent. No . . . not now. You can’t die!

  He was squeezing my hand. “Is there a Heaven, Zoë? Is there a God?”

  I—I didn’t know. I didn’t know!

  I looked up to scream for help—

  My voice caught in my throat.

  They were everywhere—on every face—staring back at me.

  Skulls.

  Hundreds and hundreds of skulls. Driving cars, crossing the street, standing in line, gawking at the dying man beside me.

  “Captain!” Daniel screamed from somewhere behind me. “Oh God . . . Cooper! Ken—oh God, Ken!”

  I turned to see Daniel. Two uniformed police officers had him by his arms and were struggling to subdue him. But they couldn’t. His eyes were wide, and his expression was full of surprise, shock, and horror.

  Then his gaze focused on me, and those emotions coalesced into a single thought.

  Kill.

  He gave a guttural scream before pushing aside one officer, then the other. Two brave volunteers tried to stop him but were shoved aside and into the gathering crowd.

  And he was coming at me. Though he no longer had a weapon, he had his hands. I caught enough of his thoughts to know he planned on killing me with his bare hands.

  “You . . . you . . .” was all he said over and ov
er again.

  I—I didn’t know what to do. I acted on instinct and reached out with my left hand.

  I grabbed his wrist. Time froze. He froze. Everything around me blurred and stopped as I looked into his eyes. Eyes, I realized, that had died on that roof.

  For the second time.

  TC appeared, seeming to sieve from the print on my arm. He looked from me to Daniel and back to me. “We gonna waste him?”

  I shook my head. “No. I want him to forget. Forget me. Forget everything that happened.”

  TC looked heartbroken. “That’s no fun.”

  I shifted my gaze to him. “Where have you been?”

  “Around.” He pointed to his wrist. “Ticktock, lover. Time’s up.”

  And Daniel was on top of me—but not choking me. He was still, and the officers were back and hoisting him up.

  “Miss, are you okay?”

  I let one of them pull me up, then I turned back to Cooper. “I’m fine. Call an ambulance . . . Call an ambulance!” I screamed as I knelt beside him.

  I touched Cooper’s cheek. “No . . .” I mumbled. “No, no, no . . .”

  And behind the thundering in my ears, I could hear a laugh.

  A cold, deep, soulless laugh.

  The Phantasm.