In Your Dreams

by Gina Ardito

  “You know when I’m with you?”

  She nodded and, extending her left leg, turned her ankle to and fro to display the red sole on the strappy sandal. “What do you think of this one?”

  “It’s not really my color. Tell me how you know I’m with you.”

  “I can’t explain it, really,” she replied, her gaze fixed on her flexing foot. “You know how you get this sensation on the back of your neck when you feel like someone’s staring at you? It’s kinda like that. There’s this...electrical charge...in the air.”

  A woman strolled by, rain slicker yellow shopping bag at her side, and stared hard at Isabelle. Apparently, the chic clientele weren’t accustomed to a woman talking to herself in the designer shoe department.

  “It’s okay,” she told the stranger with a bright smile. “I have a brain tumor.”

  Sean chuckled. “Wow. Talk about a turnaround. What happened to not being able to face the diagnosis?”

  “I can tell total strangers, Sean. Telling people I know? Who care about me? As few as they are? That’s tougher.”

  “Have you decided what you’re going to do next?”

  “No. That’s why I’ve opted for retail therapy.” She removed the shoes and tossed them back into the box with a heavy sigh. “The problem is, everything I try on, I find myself looking in a mirror and asking, ‘Is this what I want to be buried in?’ It kinda puts a buzzkill on the whole experience.”

  “I’m guessing a buzzkill is a bad thing?”

  “God, I keep forgetting how old you are.” She gave him an exaggerated head shake. “Buzz, as in high? Good. Kill? Bad. Got it?”

  “Got it. Listen, since you seem to know when I’m around, I don’t want you to panic because I’m probably gonna disappear on you again in a little while.”

  “Got a hot date with a girl angel?”

  “No. I’m helping my boss with another case.”

  Her lips twisted in a moue. “Case? That’s what I am to you, Sean? A ‘case?’ Jeez, here I thought we were actually friends.”

  “We are friends. My boss has cases. I’ve got a friend.”

  “Uh-huh. Smooth, dead boy. Real smooth.”

  By now, she’d given up on finding shoes to be buried in, picked up her purse, and left the store. Outside, the sun beat against Sean’s face as she took his hand in hers. What the hell? He’d done it again. This time, he’d gone from an uncomfortable chair in an airless, cloistered room to the sunny sidewalks of Beverly Hills. He didn’t recall transforming to vapor—which he’d always done to travel from the Afterlife to Earth when he was a bounty hunter. He didn’t touch anything on his clipboard; no magic “Transport Now” button had appeared. Maybe he wasn’t the one who called the shots. Maybe Isabelle controlled his comings and goings. Or...was this another test the Elders cooked up for him to fail so they could banish him to the Chasm? What if he was still stuck here when Xavia needed him to save her teenage offender?

  Unease rippled through him.

  “I can’t stay here,” he insisted, although the warmth and the crowds of people rushing by lured him to forget about Xavia and Nicole.

  She dropped his hand. “So then, go,” she said with an amused lilt in her tone. “I didn’t ask you to come here, you know.”

  “I know. And I didn’t mean to show up. I don’t seem to have much control over this appear/disappear stuff yet.”

  “Once again, I’m reminded your boss gave me the department rookie.” She heaved an exaggerated sigh of pity, then clucked her tongue.

  He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and turned to face her, took her hand again, squeezing gently. “Are you going to be okay on your own?”

  “I’m fine, Sean.” She squeezed back. “Really.”

  “Okay, I’ll take your word for it. What do you plan to do now?”

  “Right now, I’m going to go home, make a nice salad for dinner, and soak in a tub for an hour or two. I need to get my head on straight before I make the call to Dr. Regalbuto tomorrow.”

  A tingle of pride ran through him. Good for her! She’d found her courage to fight back against the disease. “You’re really going to go through with the radiation treatment?”

  She shrugged. “I agreed to consider the treatment. Justin threatened to drag me there by my hair if I didn’t say yes. If I start this heavy-dose radiation, I imagine I’ll be losing plenty of my golden locks once the poison kicks in. I’d rather keep as much as I can until then. What are you going to do tonight?”

  “I told you. I have to help my boss.”

  “If he’s your boss, he should already know how to handle his own case.”

  “She,” he corrected.

  “She? Your boss is a she?”

  He nodded. “Is that surprising?”

  Shielding her eyes from the sun’s brightness, she studied him from head to toe before answering. “Kinda. I mean, you come off as such a he-man, I can’t imagine you taking orders from a woman.”

  “Trust me,” he replied. “My he-man ego isn’t that easily bruised. I’d answer to a cocker spaniel if I believed the dog had earned my respect.”

  “How come, if she’s got your respect, your boss can’t handle her own cases?”

  “She does usually, but this is a tough one.”

  “Yeah? Why? What’s so special about it?” Interest sparkled in her eyes.

  He frowned. “I can’t tell you that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s confidential.”

  “Maybe I could help.”

  “No, I don’t think you can.”

  She planted her hands on her hips. “How do you know?”

  “Because she’s a teenager in some little town in a Midwestern state. You two have absolutely nothing in common.”

  “Uh-huh. Right. Because, if she’s got a caseworker like you, she either attempted suicide or is about to. But, yeah. She and I have nothing in common.”

  “She’s totally screwed up, Belle. She’s gone through a nasty incident and she’s not dealing well with it.”

  “Lemme guess. A nasty sexual incident?”

  “Yes.”

  “Like a sexual assault?”

  “Yes.”

  She cocked a brow. “I repeat. She and I have nothing in common.”

  She had a point, and he sighed in surrender. “Look, I appreciate you offering to help, and you’re right. You might have more in common than I’m giving you credit for, but there’s really nothing you can do for her.”

  “So, what do you plan to do for her?”

  “I have no idea. I’m just there to assist if I’m needed.”

  “You’re coming down here to be with her tonight, aren’t you? To try to physically stop her. That’s why you want to make sure I’ll be all right on my own.”

  “Maybe,” he admitted, though neither he nor Xavia had actually uttered such a plan aloud. “I’m not sure yet. I hope not.”

  “Why do you hope not?”

  “Because it’s not supposed to work this way.”

  “What’s not? What? Are you...like...cheating on me or something if you help someone else? Or are you afraid if I know you’re not watching, I’ll off myself tonight?”

  “No, neither of those things.”

  “You’re not planning on taking her to ‘our spot’ in the Maldives, are you?”

  “No. I’m not planning on taking her anywhere. I’m more concerned about something I didn’t know. Something that’s been bothering me. This...connection... you and I have. How I show up and I’m with you? Even now, when you’re awake? No one else in my department can do it.”

  “No one? Really?”

  “Nope. They’re all limited to communication through dreams. No other time.”

  She grinned. “Wow. I guess that makes up for me getting the rookie. At least, I got the magic rookie.” Arching up on tiptoe, she placed her lips on his.

  Sean’s world exploded in a riot of colors. Stronger than any meld with a bounty hunter, Isabell
e’s kiss sparked life inside him. For the first time since his suicide, Sean felt his heart pound in his chest. Blood, hot and rapid, pulsed in his veins. The crisp scent of her skin filled his nostrils, and he swam in the perfumed pool she enveloped around them. He pulled her closer, nearly devouring her in his need to be one with her, to live within her, and feel human again, if only for a whisker of time.

  “Get a room, you two,” someone growled, and Sean snapped back into his own ghostly form.

  As she stepped away, Isabelle’s eyes glowed with pleasure, and she flashed him a nuclear smile. “See you later, Sean.” With a flip of her hair, she strode off to her candy-apple-red convertible, leaving him breathless and scattered.

  ~~~~

  When Nicole headed for the garage sometime after midnight, Xavia decided it was time to fetch Sean. She glanced out her office window, ready to catch his attention and signal him inside. While he still sat at his desk, with his gaze focused on his clipboard, something seemed…off. His aura, normally a vivid dark blue, had faded to an almost transparent aqua. Instead of his usual slouch, his erect posture could shame steel beams.

  He’d done it again; she’d bet money he was with Isabelle Fichetti—if money existed here. As she continued to watch, the hue around him darkened in gradual increments, until he became himself again.

  They would definitely have to test his ability to transport to Earth and figure out how he accomplished it. After Nicole was safe.

  At last, he turned in her direction, and she gave him a subtle wave. He seemed to shake himself out of his stupor and, running a hand through his hair, he nodded.

  Satisfied he was on his way, she returned her undivided attention to Nicole. The teen had fed the cut-up garden hose from her mom’s Toyota’s tailpipe to the passenger window. Xavia watched as she climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine, wincing when Nicole settled into the back seat, her hands clasped over her chest in the traditional coffin pose.

  Her office door opened, and though her ears pricked at Sean’s entrance, she never let her gaze stray from the image on her clipboard. “Sit,” she ordered and turned the board on her desk so they could watch together. “See if you can talk to her, Sean. She’s still too alert to hear me.”

  Taking the seat across from her, Sean leaned closer to view the screen. “Nicole? Can you hear me?”

  Nothing.

  “Nicole?” he repeated.

  No reaction.

  “Nicole, talk to me. Can you hear me?”

  The teen sighed, her smile unwavering, and hunkered deeper into the gray cloth bench seat.

  Looking up, Sean shook his head. “I’ve got nothing. She’s not responding, and it’s not because she’s ignoring me. She genuinely can’t hear me, and I don’t seem to have any kind of link to her. I’m guessing whatever sensory communication I have with Earth is limited to my relationship with Isabelle.”

  Great. Just terrific. Tears of frustration filled Xavia’s eyes. She was about to lose another kid. Sean had been her last hope. “Nicole!” she shouted at the image on the screen. “Please! Open a window, for God’s sake! Turn off the engine. Please!”

  The girl rolled onto her side and, when she did, her cell phone slipped from her pocket and hit the car floor with a soft thud.

  Bending his head to the image, Sean pointed. “What is that?”

  “Her cell,” Xavia replied and resumed pleading. “Come on, Nicole. You don’t want to do this.”

  “Is that a phone?” Sean persisted.

  Xavia rolled her eyes. “Yes!” she hissed. “Now can we forget about the girl’s toys and try to help her?”

  “Like…that’s her personal phone?”

  “Yes.” Jeez, were all bounty hunters so clueless and so detached?

  “Does everybody have a personal phone these days?”

  “Pretty much. All the kids have them.” On screen, Nicole’s flesh had taken on a grayish tinge. “Shit. She’s going under. What the hell am I gonna do now?”

  “What about parents? Do parents have these cells too?”

  “I guess so. Yeah, probably. Why?” More important, why the hell was he prattling on about the damn phone?

  “How much leeway do you have with Nicole? Can you see her mother right now?”

  “I could probably split the screen. But what’s the point? Her mother’s sound asleep upstairs.”

  “Do you think you could locate Mom’s phone? Get the number?”

  She jerked her head up, ready to blast him for his distraction when she caught the frantic light in his eyes. “I could probably pick it up off the circuitry if I focused. Why? What are you going to do? You can’t call her if you’ve got no link to her. And since her mother’s on the periphery...”

  “I’ve got an idea.” He pointed to the screen again. “Get that number in the meantime.”

  “But—” Xavia didn’t get to say more before he dashed out of the room. Great. On a sigh, she channeled her energies on splitting the screen on her clipboard and muttered, “Zoom out. House interior.”

  Now, she had the ability to keep one eye on the teen, while simultaneously scanning the master bedroom in the house to find another cell phone. In the darkness, electronic gadgets emitted a red outline, limiting her search to less than a dozen items. She found the phone on the nightstand and sent impulses through the still air to illuminate the screen. As the phone turned on, a photo glowed: Nicole and her mom cuddling in front of an autumn background in happier days. Such a pretty teen. Such a contrast to the pale-faced child, currently huddled in the back seat.

  Xavia dared a glance up, but Sean hadn’t returned yet.

  Hurry up, dammit, I’m gonna lose her…

  Forcing her fears to the back of her throat, she honed in on the signal the device emanated. Within two breaths, she had the number glowing in bright white.

  Come on, Sean. What the hell are you up to? I need you here.

  At last, Sean returned and slapped his own clipboard on the desk beside hers. “I’m going to contact Isabelle.”

  She nearly flung his board to the floor in her rage. “Now? For Chrissakes, Sean, I don’t have time for your inter-realm romance right now.”

  He held up a hand. “Be patient. Watch.” His screen lit up with the scenery of a candlelit bathroom and a tub filling with steamy water. Perched on the porcelain edge, a blonde wrapped in a thick, terry robe poured scented oil beneath the rushing liquid. “Belle?”

  The woman paused in mid-pour and, looking up, clutched her collar tight against her throat—as if Sean sat on her ceiling like some Afterlife voyeur. “Sean? You’re done already, you hero-stud you?”

  “No. I need your help.”

  She grinned. “Ha. I told ya you might.”

  “You can gloat later, if you like. We’re running out of time right now. Can you make a phone call for me?”

  Xavia sat back, jaw agape and mind stuttering. Damn, why hadn’t she thought of that?

  Meanwhile, Isabelle Fichetti still didn’t grasp the severity of the situation. “You want me to order you a pizza? I doubt Domino’s delivers that far.”

  “Call this number,” he replied. “Right now.” He gestured to Xavia to give him the digits she’d pulled and enlarged.

  “Wait,” Isabelle said. “Let me get a pen.” She disappeared from the screen.

  Oh, for the love of…

  While pushing the clipboard closer to Sean’s view, Xavia nearly shrieked her frustration. On Earth, precious minutes were ticking away. Nicole’s eyes were closed, her breathing shallow.

  Isabelle returned, a black Sharpie marker in her hand, and turned off the faucet. “Okay, shoot.” Sean read off the number, and she scrawled it on the back of her hand. “Got it. What am I supposed to say? Who am I calling?”

  “Nicole’s mom.” He gave her an abbreviated version of the teen’s story, summing up with her current suicide attempt. “She’s already in the car, motor running, so we don’t have much time. Do whatever you have to. Keep
ringing that phone until you get her mom down to the garage.”

  “Okay.” While Xavia and Sean watched, helpless, from their realm, Isabelle dialed the number and listened to the buzz as the phone rang on the other end.

  Three rings in, the voicemail kicked on. Isabelle immediately disconnected and hit redial. Again, the phone rang, and again, after three rings, the click indicated the transfer to voicemail.

  “This is ridiculous,” Xavia grumbled and grabbed her clipboard to try to connect with the slumbering teen. “You work with Isabelle on Mom,” she told Sean. “I’m going to try to connect with Nicole before it’s too late.”

  If she wasn’t already too late. The problem was that, although the teen lingered in a realm between awake and asleep, if she fell into too deep a slumber, she’d never wake up again, no matter how many rainbows and unicorns she showed the poor kid. Mired in her own misery, Nicole had lost sight of the bigger picture. Not only of all she’d lose, but all her mother would lose, should she succeed with this suicide attempt.

  Time to pull out the big guns. Rather than a dream of hope like she’d used time and time again, Xavia opted to plunge Nicole headlong into a nightmare. She forced the teen to watch what would happen after her death: her devastated mother finding her body, planning her funeral, choosing the dress she’d be buried in, and all the inherent bitterness her loss would leave behind. Calling on her own painful memories, Xavia showed Nicole a world devoid of love, devoid of compassion, filled with an endless battle against personal demons.

  At last, she’d struck upon the perfect venue to reach the teen, who muttered, “No” and thrashed her head from side to side. Xavia pumped the air with a fist. Yes! She was still alive and semi-responsive. We can work with that.

  “Come on, Nicole. Come on,” she urged. “Fight back. You can do this.”

  While Nicole struggled to come up out of the fog, for the coup de grace, Xavia imitated Uriah’s dire pronouncement from her own sojourn to this private hell. “By ending your own life, you have forfeited all rights to your family. It is the sentence of this august board that you will never see your loved ones again. Not in this lifetime or any lifetime in your eternity...”