by Gina Ardito
“You’re coming back here, Belle,” he insisted. “You’ll stay with Tony and me. We’ll make sure you eat well. We’ll get you the best specialists. You can rest and not worry about anything. We’ll figure out a way to make you better if we have to travel the world to find you a cure. I saved your life when you tried to kill yourself by getting to you with minutes to spare. I’m not about to lose you to some lame brain cancer. We’re gonna beat this, too.”
By now, Tony had managed to grasp the gist of the situation and sank into the chair at the kitchen table across from Justin. At Justin’s declaration, he nodded with so much emphasis, the tears he’d struggled to hold back slid in silver streams down his cheeks. “Absolutely,” he shouted so she could hear him. “Whatever you need. We’re your family. We’ll fix it together. Come home, Belle. Where you belong.”
On the other side of the conversation, Isabelle sniffed back her own tears. “Thank you. But, for now, I need to stay here. Figure out what I’m going to do with the time I have left.”
Justin’s sigh punctuated the air between them. “Who’s your doctor?”
“Regalbuto out of Cedars-Sinai. He’s good, Justin. I’m just too far gone for conventional treatment. The tumor’s in a dicey spot, and it’s big.”
“So what’s the next step?”
“He’s recommended an aggressive radiation therapy treatment, but—”
“Good. When do you start?”
“I haven’t said yes yet. I’m not sure I want to go through it.”
“Why not? Belle, if it can save your life, why wouldn’t you?”
“Because he’s already said it’s a long shot. And the side effects if something goes wrong aren’t pretty. Loss of basic motor skills, impaired vision, paralysis...”
“All the more reason why you need to stay with us. Your choice. You can either come back here, or we’ll move into your mausoleum. Whichever you choose, Tony and I are going to take care of you through the whole process.”
“It’s going to get really ugly at the end, binky,” she warned. “I’m not blowing smoke up your butt.”
“So? You think we’ve never seen ugly before? You think your brand of suffering is worse than that of the friends and family we’ve lost over the years?”
Right. Shame inflamed her cheeks. She’d forgotten the HIV victims they’d cared for, Tony’s niece who’d died of leukemia, and of course, Justin’s mother. “No.”
“Come home, sweetheart. But first, call Dr. Regalbuto and tell him to sign you up for the treatment. No matter what happens, Tony and I will be there for you.”
As she hung up the phone, she cast her eyes at the sky. Sean’s clipboard zeroed in on her face, on the relief filling her expression with misty happiness. “Thank you. Without your help, I don’t think I would have had the courage to tell them.”
“You’re welcome.” He touched his fingers to the image of her cheek, and she blinked as if she felt the contact.
“How’s she doing?”
Sean looked up into Xavia’s interested expression. Regular games of orb ball had rejuvenated her, although a tint of gray still muddied her aura every once in a while. “We’re making progress. Her friends will stand by her, which gives her a good support base. That’s a lot more than you and I ever had, eh?” She turned to walk to her office, but he lobbed one additional comment in her direction. “By the way, that reminds me. Why didn’t you tell me she can hear me outside her dreams?”
She pivoted back to face him. “What do you mean?”
“The dream thing. I mean, I’m only physically there with her in her dreams, but she can hear me talk to her when she’s awake.”
“Wait. What do you mean, you’re ‘physically there with her?’ Do you mean you actually travel between here and Earth? Like you did as a bounty hunter?”
Confused, he hesitated. “Well...yeah. Doesn’t everybody?”
“No.” She perched one hip on the desk edge. “Tell me, in detail, exactly what happens between you two.”
“When she’s awake or when she’s asleep?”
“Awake or asleep. The impact is the same. Let’s start with the first time you transported to her. When was that?”
“Umm...the first time we talked, I guess.” He shrugged.
“In the hospital?”
“No. After she was discharged. At Justin Penn’s house. She started dreaming about a stroll on some boardwalk, and I used the opportunity to slip into her subconscious. Only I didn’t stay in her subconscious. Suddenly, wham! There I was, seated on a bench beside her.”
“Are you sure you didn’t imagine it? Maybe you miss that part of your job so much that your subconscious is placing you there?”
He glared at her with impatience. “I may not have spent a lot of time in this department, but I was a bounty hunter for eons.”
“That’s my point—”
“Unh-unh. Let me finish. I’ve gone to thousands of locales to bring back spirits. I’ve visited horse farms, hospitals, restaurants, all kinds of places with unique sensory qualities. And I’m telling you, I experienced things with Isabelle I haven’t felt since my suicide.”
“Like what?”
“Like the taste of salt air on my tongue. Like scaring seagulls into flight with a wave of my hand. Like a person’s fingers curling around mine.”
“You touched her?” Her eyes widened, and she leaned closer to him as if gauging the truth in his expression.
“Yes. And she touched me.”
“More than once?”
“She even put her head on my shoulder. And the last time I visited her, she had a headache—a headache that I felt in my own skull.” He leaned back, pushing the clipboard to the farthest corner of his desk, shielding Isabelle from any scrutiny. Unease dripped inside him in rainy rivulets. “I’m beginning to think none of this is normal procedure.”
“Hell, no!” The denial came out as a shout, and she stole a quick glance at the other probation officers, but none raised their heads, remaining focused on their offenders. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You may have done all kinds of things as a bounty hunter, but none of what you’ve just described is supposed to happen between you and your offender in this department.”
“Really? How do you suppose I got so lucky?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. The only thing I can think of is that maybe the Elders forgot to recircuit you before you were transferred here. I’m guessing there’s a difference between how bounty hunters are wired, compared to the rest of us. You guys are the only ones able to travel between realms. I would imagine, somewhere inside you, you’ve still got inter-realm communication possibilities left over from your former vocation.”
A mistake by the Elders? “No way.” He folded his arms over his chest. “The Elders don’t miss a trick. If I have some ability other probation officers don’t, it’s not an oversight. It’s intentional.”
The dull patina darkened her aura again. “It’s a trick,” she murmured. “Some kind of test.”
“Yeah,” he growled. “I have a feeling the bastards are setting me up for a major league fall. They must think I’m gonna screw up so badly they’ll have a reason to get rid of me for good.” Like Luc and Jodie.
“What are you going to do?”
“Prove them wrong.”
~~~~
From the safety of her closed office, Xavia watched Sean Martino hover over his clipboard. In the entire time he’d worked in this department, he had never been out of her sight—except when she met with her Elder Counselor. And even then, he found her there outside the auditorium. So, how could he transport to Earth to be with his offender—to touch and be touched by her!—while still at his desk here?
Was it possible the Elders had screwed up his circuitry? Or had Sean pegged their true motives with his “test” theory? And if this was a test, where did she fit into the puzzle? She sank into the chair behind her desk and planted her face in her hands.
Goddammit, why’d
they have to stick him in her department? Every time she thought she had the hang of this place, someone played, “Let’s fuck with Xavia,” and threw her off the sanity ledge.
Still, she had to admit. She had pretty much done a one-eighty on her assessment of Sean Martino. Well, maybe more like a one-ten or one-fifteen. Not a full about-face, but she had a more positive opinion of him now than she had when he first strutted into her office. And a much lower opinion of the Elders.
At least, his orb ball game had helped release some of her pent-up frustration. Too bad she couldn’t form an orb that resembled Uriah’s head. Her thoughts shocked her, and she glanced around to make sure no one read her mind. Stupid, really. If her Elder Counselor wanted to spy on her, he didn’t have to be in the same room.
When she’d first discovered the sensory link that allowed the Elder Council members access to every aspect of their charges here—including thoughts—she’d thanked her unlucky stars she never had to be naked or vulnerable since her demise. The dead never showered or used a toilet, a major upside to no longer being a human: no indignity to fret over.
Plenty of other worries existed—like keeping another poor being on Earth from winding up here. Picking up her clipboard, she followed the downward spiral of her newest case: Nicole Zuniga. Nicole’s pain-filled eyes took center position on her screen.
The teenaged daughter of a single mom, Nicole had fallen hard for the school’s star basketball player, allowed him to ply her with alcohol at a party and, in her drunkenness, suffered indignities that were recorded by classmates before going viral on the Internet. When even her closest friends began taunting her for her lewd behavior, she caved to the peer pressure and overdosed on over-the-counter sleep aids.
Her suicide attempt only fueled her classmates’ animosity toward her—so much so that Nicole became physically ill with dread at the prospect of returning to school.
Her one ally, besides Xavia, was her mother, who beseeched the Board of Education, local government officials, and eventually took to the media in her quest for help for Nicole. Becoming a cause célèbre, however, only alienated Nicole even more. Total strangers weighed in about her situation with comments that ran the gamut from “She shouldn’t have put herself in that position,” to “The boys involved should be castrated or gang-raped in jail.” As publicity about her story grew, Nicole fell deeper into a prison of loneliness and depression.
With Malik’s loss still wounding her, Xavia doubled her efforts to save Nicole. She would not allow bullies to steal another child’s bright future.
The biggest problem in dealing with teenage offenders was their refusal to understand that the high school years made up a miniscule portion of their lives. Unable to fully grasp the concept that most of life’s problems were temporary, they fell prey to despair and, too often, death.
Not this time. Xavia would kill herself again before allowing Nicole to come to that miserable end. She just had to find a way to reach the child. Easier thought than done, though. How could she take away the shame, the betrayal Nicole felt, and replace those emotions with hope?
While she pondered her options, on Earth, Nicole did the same. Nicole needed a foolproof suicide method this time. Pills hadn’t worked—had, in fact, made things worse for her when everyone found out. She was too afraid to do anything that might hurt, so that eliminated hanging, slicing her wrists, or setting her bed on fire. As much as she dreaded accessing the Internet and possibly seeing her name on the trending lists, she couldn’t come up with another option. With her laptop powered up, she typed “Ways to commit suicide” into the search engine tab, and reviewed the list that appeared below her typed words.
Her interest landed on “carbon monoxide poisoning.” Scanning the details, she realized how easy it would be. Wait ‘til Mom went to bed tonight, swipe her car keys from her purse, and sneak downstairs to the garage. With the engine running, she could curl up in the backseat and go to sleep. This time, forever.
After jotting down notes, she set her plan in motion. First, she’d slice up the garden hose—before Mom got home from work. Nothing would stop her from killing herself tonight.
“Wanna bet?” Xavia growled at the screen.
So Nicole wanted to play hardball? Fine. Bring it.
She glanced again at her newest probation officer. Nicole Zuniga didn’t realize Xavia had a secret weapon. And she’d use him.
He must have sensed her scrutiny because his head popped up, and he quirked a questioning brow.
Nodding, she gestured for him to come to her office, but placed an index finger over her lips to indicate secrecy. As he rose from his desk, she returned her attention to Nicole, who sat on the garage floor, a length of green hose and a tape measure arranged in front of her.
“What’s up?” Sean asked as he leaned in from the office door.
“Come in and close the door,” she whispered.
Even after he complied, she waited, silent, counting off beats in her head. He said nothing, remained near the closed door, an expectant look on his face. She supposed she should credit the NYPD for instilling patience and respect in him, but she didn’t have a lot of good to say about that Blue Wall. Still, she’d grant this one concession.
“I need your help,” she murmured at last. She held up the clipboard, face out, toward Sean. “Meet Nicole Zuniga.”
Sean stepped closer, took the clipboard, and studied the girl’s image. “Pretty.”
“Pretty screwed up,” she retorted and proceeded to reveal the teen’s story.
Sean glanced down at the clipboard and flipped the face back to Xavia’s focus. “She’s also determined, isn’t she?”
At this point, Nicole had measured, double-checked, and re-measured the garden hose. She was now prepared to take a small hacksaw to the length of green rubber.
Xavia sighed. “I know. I’m running out of time with her. I have a feeling if I don’t get through to her tonight...” Her throat closed around her fear.
“Yeah, I get it. If you wait ‘til she’s asleep this time, even if you convince her to hang in there, the car’s exhaust fumes could steal her away.” He sank into the chair across from her and propped his feet on her desk. “What are you going to do?”
Displeasure rippled through her, but she stifled the impulse to shove his legs to the floor. She needed him on her side right now. “I can’t lose another kid. I just can’t. So I plan to fight like hell for this one.”
“And if you fail?”
“That’s where you come in.” She held up a hand. “Don’t say anything yet. Just listen. As far as you’re concerned, I want to test those experiences you told me about: how you manage to physically manifest yourself in Isabelle Fichetti’s dreams. I’ll be looking into the strength of your presence, any limitations, and how you transport without initiating the action.”
His feet slid off the desk, and he sat upright in the chair. “You’re not suggesting I go ORAL, are you?”
“Of course not.”
ORAL, Outside the Realm of the AfterLife, occurred when someone transported to another realm without the permission or knowledge of the Elder Council, a punishable crime. ORAL offenders could face a sentence as minor as suspension of duties to the most severe: immediate transport to the Chasm, the prison locale for the dead.
“Then, what?” Sean pressed.
She wasn’t a hundred percent sure what she planned to do yet. “Just stick around your desk for a bit, okay? I’m winging this.”
His arched brow and upturned smirk suggested he didn’t believe her, but she pushed back. “You said your offender’s doing fine with her friends, right?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” She pressed her hands together as if in prayer. “Help me save Nicole. Please.”
He shook his head, but she sensed it was more an action of defeat than denial. “The Board will have our butts over this.”
“I’ll take all the heat. You’re just following orders.”
“Yeah
, that argument worked peachy at Nuremberg.”
She ignored his dire warning. The outcome meant more to her than any scary repercussions. “Look, if you don’t want to do it, if you’re too intimidated by the threat of the Elders...”
“Oh, I’m in,” he replied, tilting the chair onto its back legs while he tucked his arms behind his head. “You should know by now that I don’t give a damn about the Elders or the Board. But if this goes sour, and it probably will, I did this on my own. You knew nothing about it. There’s no sense in both of us going down.”
His offer nearly left her speechless. Nearly. But she couldn’t accept those terms. “Nuh-uh. I can’t let you take that heat.”
“I’ve already got plenty of heat of my own, Xavia. I can stand a bit more. You shouldn’t have to take the fall for doing everything you can to save that kid.”
They could go on this way for eternity, but that wouldn’t help Nicole. Xavia decided to compromise. “We’ll be a packaged pair of perpetrators. Now, get out of here. I’ll call you when I think I need you.”
After resettling his chair, he stood and brushed a hand down his trousers. “Call me before you think you need me. I might be able to help through legitimate means rather than the felonious.”
She snorted a laugh. “Still a cop, huh, Martino?”
“Fidelis Ad Mortem.”
“Whatzat mean?”
“Once a cop, always a cop.”
Chapter 11
Sean returned to his desk and his own offender. At the moment, Isabelle sat inside a Beverly Hills boutique, trying on an assortment of skyscraper high-heeled shoes. He never understood the link between women and shoes.
“It’s an endorphin thing, Sean,” she replied in a husky voice, staring up at the ceiling. “Science has shown a direct link to new shoes boosting a woman’s self-confidence. When we feel good about ourselves, we’re happy and feel more in control. Where’d you go anyway? One minute you were here with me, the next you’d disappeared.”