by Raven Snow
“Yeah, God knows why. They owner was seriously creepy. He was always trying to give us these cherry candies he had lying around everywhere. As if I would eat something that came out of that place.”
“Did he pay special attention to Fate?”
Wyatt was unashamedly listening in on my conversation now, his expression intent.
“Not while I was around, but like I said, the guy was an old creep.”
“Do you remember any names? Anything specific?”
There was a pause, and I knew she was thinking. My fingers were crossed under the covers, and I looked at Wyatt, trying to convey how close we were. A creepy boss was exactly the kind of person that would stalk Fate in life and death. We’d found candies like the ones her coworker described, too. It all fit, especially the part about the boss being old. In my experience, old people were more likely to become ghosts.
“I think his name was J.D.”
Trying not to deflate, I turned to Wyatt who shrugged. Neither of us could think of anyone with the initials J.D. pertaining to the case. I turned back to thank her for her time when Wyatt started waving his hands. He lunged for the paper and pen, writing something for me.
I read it with wide eyes and went back to the phone. “Any chance the name was G.T.?”
“That’s it!”
I hung up after thanking her quickly. Geoffrey Tucker. The mortician who had died last week and whose funeral Wyatt and I attended.
“That’s why his lips were stained red,” I said, a light bulb going on. “Those cherry candies.”
“You noticed the color of a corpse’s lips?”
“I thought it might be a good color on me.”
Wyatt grinned like a fool, helping me up from the bed. “Every color is a good color on you.”
It was love that made him say that. As a pale, bony woman, I could say honestly that most colors weren’t good on me. But I knew how to take a compliment when I was handed one.
“But where does that leave us?” I asked. “We can’t lock up or kill a dead man. And we don’t know how to find him.”
Wyatt was already pulling on his shoes. “Finding him is easy.”
“Oh, excuse me for opening my mouth.” The force of my sarcasm was so great, I wobbled a bit on my crutches.
“Even dead people need a little stability,” he said. “He spent his life in a funeral home. I bet that’s where he took Fate.”
“Where he took her?”
The stairs were challenging on crutches, so Wyatt carried me down. It was a bit of a bumpy ride, and I white-knuckled his shirt the entire time.
“He’s a stalker, tried and true,” Wyatt said, almost a little gleefully. “He won’t have killed her yet. He’d want to enjoy her first.”
“Oh, lovely. But the rest—“
“The rest,” he said, stealing a congratulatory kiss from me on our way out the door. “You can get from your grandmother in transit.”
So while Wyatt was driving us to the funeral home, I called Gran. At first, I was sure she wouldn’t answer, the phone rang so many times. Then her cranky voice came on the other line, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
“I need to know how to do an exorcism, Gran. Now.” I paused. “Without all the religious junk.”
I’d lost my faith a long time ago, and it wasn’t coming back just for this case. There were days, though, like this one, where I wished I had something more to believe in. A higher plan would’ve been nice just then.
“The power from religion comes from the absolute belief in something—the basis for all magic,” she said quietly. “If you don’t have some god or other, I suppose you’ll just have to find something you believe in and channel. If your mind is stronger than the ghost, you can get rid of it for awhile.”
The “awhile” part didn’t sound promising, but it was all we had at the moment. Taking a deep breath, I asked. “Do you think that’ll really work?”
“Probably not.”
I said dryly, “Thanks. Call you if I survive.”
“She have anything helpful to say?” Wyatt asked, swerving into another lane to pass a slow moving car.
“It’s all up to my magical abilities. We’re screwed.”
The Waresville funeral home was actually attached to the church where funerals were. The doors were always open because very few people had the balls to rob a church. We stepped through quietly. Well, as quiet as you can be wobbling around on two poles.
Wyatt led me down into the basement where they prepared the bodies. I was making yucky noises in my head the whole way. Why anyone would want to work in such a dreary, creepy place was beyond me.
G.T’s body was lying on the table when we entered the room.
Not able to stop myself, I let out a panicked squeak before clapping a hand to my mouth. Wyatt took out his gun, inching closer to the body that should have been buried days go.
Like a jack popping out of a box, G.T. sat straight up, staring at me and smiling with yellowing teeth. Both Wyatt and I yelled, backing up as far as the room would let us.
One of the pull out drawers where they kept bodies started rattling. I was about to run for the hills when I heard the familiar screams of a goth girl who had once interrupted my tea.
Before Wyatt could stop me or I could think better of it, I flew across the room, opening the drawer and releasing Fate. She was wearing only a long t-shirt and a terrified expression. She half jumped, half fell from her prison, holding onto me like her life depended on it.
When I looked back, G.T. wasn’t smiling anymore. “You can’t have her. She’s mine.”
“I’m not yours, you freak,” she screamed at him. “God, I never should have taken that job.” That last bit seemed to be more for her than anyone else, so I didn’t comment with a “hell yeah.”
Staying clear of G.T., Wyatt grabbed both of us, pulling us along and out of the basement. When we got up to the pews, we realized the doors had been sealed. Wyatt slammed his body against them, the noise echoing like gunshots in the high ceilinged room. The door didn’t budge.
When we turned back around, the pews were filled with dead people. Fate screamed before I could shush her, and each and every ghostly face whirled to stare at us. Their eyes held little comprehension beyond what G.T. gave them.
A man appeared in front of us, making me jerk back and almost topple over thanks to my cast. The whites of his eyes consumed the whole area where his pupils should have been. Looking into them was like falling into a frozen lake. They just kept dragging me further and further down.
"Remember me, Wyatt?" he asked. "We were in basic together."
If possible, Wyatt's face was as pale as his dead Army buddy's. I grabbed onto his arm, supporting him and myself. We were all held to the spot by this man's words, forced to listen when I really wanted to run.
"First week out, and I got blown to hell by an IED," he said. "Why not you, Wyatt? Why did you get to live while I had to die?"
The man faded away without saying anything more, and I tried to pull Wyatt away from the spot. We needed a plan, and it needed to be private. Here, every lackey for G.T. was watching, relaying every flicker of emotion that passed over our faces.
"Nice trick, G.T.," I said, calling as loudly as I dared in a room full of the dead. "Do you juggle as well?"
Laughter rang out from the rafters. "Aren't you fun? Let's see if we can wipe away your smile."
The next ghost to appear in front of us was my father. He looked just like me—tall, dark hair, with a little air of mischief around him. In all the pictures I'd seen, he was always smiling, looking as if he were about to burst out laughing. He wasn't smiling now.
"I knew I was making a mistake when I willed the Wheel to you," he said. He might as well have struck me. Face twisting into a mask of disgust, he continued, "You've ruined everything. But what can I expect? You are your mother's daughter."
I lunged at him and only Wyatt's mad grab for the back of my shirt kept me from soaring throug
h my father and into a crowd of ghosts. He disappeared before I could even get a kick in, not that it would've done much good. Traitorous tears streaked down my face, and I wiped them away angrily. I guessed I’d solved the mystery of the identity of the ghost that had wrecked our speaker system, and it hurt.
Fate had sagged to the ground beside us, sobbing softly. Like some cue had drawn him out, G.T. was standing right in front of us in ghostly form. He frowned at Fate.
"Don't cry, my dear. You know I'd never hurt you."
If anything, she started to cry harder.
"Then why kidnap her?" I asked, knowing the answer. "Can't you see you're terrifying her?"
When they turned to me, his eyes were hateful. "She's mine. We were meant to be together," he spit at me. "And with you closing in on me despite my best efforts, I knew I had to move quickly."
He crouched down next to her, ignoring the way she flinched away. "I never meant to rush you, my love. But this is how it has to be."
"What best efforts?" I asked, trying to distract him from Fate.
If she said the wrong thing at the wrong time, we could all end up very dead before the night was through. Like Wyatt always said, stalkers were unpredictable and dangerous. Often, they imagine a loving relationship with their victims that just isn't there. The harsh light of reality doesn't sit too well with them, and I didn't want to end up in his ghost posse.
"To kill you, of course," he said, looking up at me with wide, innocent eyes. "I tried to lead your investigation astray, to warn you away for your own protection. But you just wouldn't listen."
"She's stubborn that way," Wyatt said dully.
I sent a grateful glance his way. Of course, he would pick up on the danger and what I was doing. It was times like these that I was grateful we were so in sync.
But nothing could keep G.T.’s attention away from Fate for long. Reaching forward, he brushed a ghostly finger against her skin. Fate shivered, the cold and the creepy probably almost unbearable, but I was proud when she didn’t shrink away. Maybe the girl had a brain after all.
“The first day I saw you,” he said, “I knew you’d be mine forever. All you have to do is take this little step, and we can be together.”
It felt like we were coming in on an earlier conversation, and Wyatt and I exchanged looks. Not knowing the context didn’t make it any less worrying. I didn’t know what was worse—dealing with G.T. or with the ghosts of our past. At least I knew where I stood with the latter.
“He wants me to die,” Fate said, probably noting our confused looks. Rocking back and forth, she avoided his eyes.
“Who could pass up a deal like that?” I asked dryly.
G.T. glared up at me. “Perhaps, I wasn’t thorough enough earlier.” With that, he disappeared into thin air.
“Man, I’m really getting sick of them doing that,” I said, trying to hide the fact that I was shaking again. I didn’t know if I could take another meeting with my father—or worse, with some other dead enemy from the past. My mind began whirling through everyone I knew on the other side. It was a long and interesting trip.
“I’m not fond of what comes after, either,” Wyatt said, his body tense.
He still had his gun in his hand, more of a security blanket than anything. His fingers clenched around it, and I wondered if he remembered the last time he’d had a gun in this church.
Up at the front where the preacher would normally stand, another ghost appeared. It was tiny, happy Tom Anthony. Unlike the last time I saw him, he was sporting his signature shovel and a murderous intention in his eyes.
“Where does this guy get the power to swing that thing around?”
“Probably from G.T.”
“Remind me to send him a rotten fruit basket.”
Tom started for us, and we cut off all witty banter. Reaching down, I yanked Fate to her feet. A rosary that she’d been holding dropped to the floor.
Cutting off to the side, we opened a door into a hallway to the meeting rooms. Usually this place held a couple boy scouts and some old ladies organizing bake sales for Jesus, but it was completely empty today and our only way of getting away from Tom.
We sprinted down the hallway, looking for a window or someplace to hide. Barricading ourselves in wouldn’t do a lick of good, and I wished for the thousandth time that we were facing a corporeal foe.
Wyatt tried to get us into one of the bathrooms, but I shook my head vehemently. I didn’t make the same mistake twice. There was still water in my ears from the bath Mrs. Tucker had treated me to. Besides, this time, the cast would weigh me down like an anchor.
Diving into a supply closet, I put my hand over Fate’s mouth when she whimpered.
“What’s the point?” she whispered. “He’ll know where we are.”
No need to ask who she meant as Tom was little more than a puppet. Whatever Fate thought, though, I knew G.T. wasn’t all-powerful. After all, wasn’t I still alive despite his best attempts? I’d been dodging his attacks all week; maybe this would be my final triumph. It would definitely be my final something.
“Miss Harper,” Tom said from the hall in a monotone. “I’d really appreciate it if you came out now.”
Ha! Even in my grim situation, that was enough to make me laugh on the inside. Tom might have been a ghost now, and he might have the power to kill me, but he was still just an idiot.
A scary idiot.
The closet door whipped open, and Tom grabbed hold of Wyatt, dragging him out. I tried to lunge for him, but he was gone too quickly, and I was too slow with my cast.
In an incredible show of power, Tom held Wyatt up by the throat, slamming him into the wall. His pale fingers tightened around my fiancés throat, making red marks that I knew would turn into bruises.
Suddenly, Mrs. Tucker was right next to them. She peered in on us, smiling and cocking her head at me. “Is this alright with you, dear?” And then she laughed because she knew I was powerless.
Or at least she thought I was. Seeing Wyatt hanging there, struggling for air and swiping at a man he could never outright hit, I started to see red in that terrifying way I had.
The world disappeared, and it was just me and these two ghosts. There was a powerful roaring in my ears, but inside it was almost calm. Taking a deep breath, I lifted my hand and wanted like I never had before.
The ghosts froze where they were, seemingly unable to move. Their washed out eyes moved towards me, and a savage part inside of me relished in the fear I saw there.
“You’re going to leave now,” I said quietly. “And you’re not ever going to come back.”
Then, with all my might, I started pushing them. I didn’t know where I was sending them, but I could feel it. The space was big and unknown, and it scared me a little bit.
But only a small amount, because in that moment, I was all-powerful. I could do anything, be anything. All around me, I could feel the earth quake in its fear of me. I’d felt this way once before, when I’d crushed a man who had dared attack me. He’d chosen his own fate.
But that wasn’t right, a small voice in that back of my mind thought. He was just a kid. A dumb kid who had to eat just like everybody else. Just like me. He’d never been the same after what I did, and neither would I.
The voice was too small to win against all that power I could feel inside of me. It wanted out, and it didn’t care about moral complexities. Mrs. Tucker and Tom were no match for me, their see-through bodies disintegrating before my eyes.
Mrs. Tucker screamed her frustration, going for my eyes, only the top half of her body still in existence. Flicking my wrist, I burned the rest of her up, enjoying the desperate gargle she made just before everything was silent.
Wyatt slid to the floor, slumping over and breathing hard, his gun falling to the ground next to him, but I didn’t have time to help him. My gait as I made my way back into the pews was unhurried. After all, who wouldn’t wait on a power like mine? Only someone who deserved punishment.
; Sure as day, the crowd of ghosts was still there, staring at me. I cared about only one, and he made himself known to me. A face just like my own popping up only a few feet in front of me.
My father spit at me. “You’re a disgrace to the Hanes name.”
I didn’t even wince. He was an ant. And I was a god.
“My name is Beck,” I said. “Good-bye.”
Now that I’d done it before, it took only a snap of my fingers and a little willpower. The man that had been my father dissolved like sugar being poured into a glass of water. I watched him burn away without feeling anything, not even satisfaction.
The Afghani woman was next, and she seemed to know it, parting through the crowd like Moses. Her eyes were heavy when they fell on me.
“You’re going to burn up,” she said. “It’s too much.”
“Nothing is too much for me.” I snapped my fingers, and she was gone. She didn’t even give me the satisfaction of hearing her scream as she left this world. My lips whitened in anger, and I wished I had kept her around a little longer, if only to prove her wrong.
Somewhere up above us, I could hear G.T. laughing. It sounded quite mad, but I couldn’t spare too many thoughts for him. He’d be last, so he’d just have to wait his turn.
The ghosts were starting to look more like they had in life, making me wonder briefly if G.T. had released them from his control. Shrugging it off, I realized I didn’t care enough to investigate.
Wetness ran over my lips and chin, annoying the skin. Swiping at it madly, my hand came away blood red.
Almost as if he knew I was looking for him, Nate O’Hara appeared beside me. His closeness probably would have made me scream in fright in the past, but I had nothing to fear now.
He looked at me with the same caring eyes he’d had in his pictures. “You have to stop, Harper.”
“You don’t command me,” I said coldly, gathering my power to get rid of him too.
Someone grabbed me from behind, pulling my away from Nathan and breaking my concentration. Kicking and squirming like a mad woman, I broke free and whirled around, slapping my captor right in the face.
It was Wyatt. His mouth was moving, so he was probably saying something, but I couldn’t think past the pink welt forming on his cheek. I’d hit him. I’d hurt him.