A Song of Forgiveness

by Lillian I Wolfe

Gavin cleared his throat as we came into Sun Valley. “What’s changed between us?”

  Drawn out of my thoughts, I said, “Nothing.”

  “Seems like something. I thought we were getting pretty close. But you’ve been stand-offish.”

  “Hey! You’ve had a beautiful woman, whom you obviously have feelings for, staying at your house. What did you expect?”

  “Ori? She’s just a friend.” He glanced at me, then back to the road, his expression amused.

  “With benefits?” I sniped.

  “Is that what you think?” Surprise registered in his voice.

  “Those were the signals I saw. She is quite taken with you and if you’re not interested, it sure didn’t look that way.”

  “No, you’re reading it wrong,” he said, taking the exit for his house, then pulling into the parking lot of a fast food place. He turned to face me and put on a look of innocence, eyes looking so sincere. “Look, I really like her and I’ve known her for about ten years. Yes, we had an affair for a couple of years and we still have feelings for each other. But long-distance love is hard to do and meeting somewhere every couple of months gets old.”

  “I’m not critical of it, Gavin,” I said. “It’s just noticeable that she still has feelings for you. I think you do for her as well. Besides, I see what kind of rapport the two of you have and I feel like an outsider. She’s more suited for you. I’ve never really broken away from the professor and student status.”

  He started to say something, then cut himself off, heaved a sigh and pursed his lips.

  “It’s not a big deal. It’s just given me perspective,” I added into the silence.

  “You know, I really like you. I did even when you were in my class, but, yeah, it was that dynamic. Dating a student is never a wise move. But when I saw you last spring, I thought maybe it could work. Then all this other shit happened and it’s been more of a necessity to keep a bit of distance, but I care a lot about what happens to you.” His voice choked a little as he said it.

  While I felt a little bit of a letdown at the accuracy of my assessment, I also realized that he truly did care about me and our friendship beyond this madness we had both been drawn into by forces out of our control. “I care about you, too. I had that crush, as you well know, and it’s never quite gone away. So, I will always be your friend, prof.”

  “Back at you, kiddo,” he laughed. “But you’re still mi chica.”

  I slapped his arm in annoyance. “Jerk!”

  Still laughing, he started the truck and pointed it toward his house.

  “We’re not even getting hamburgers?” I complained.

  TWENTY-ONE

  After my stitches came out the following week, I met with my bandmates the next day at the Outback to give Digby a farewell send-off to Australia. He’d be landing in Sydney, then catching another flight across to Perth on the west coast. His family had a farm toward the north and he was getting anxious to see them.

  While he seemed upbeat as he talked about going and what he planned to do while he was home, something seemed off. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Maybe he was trying too hard to be cheerful or maybe this whole trip had become urgent to him too soon. I recalled my own experience with a life-threatening situation over a year earlier and could understand that it changes your perspective. Perhaps he’d just realized he hadn’t seen all his family in too long and you never know when you’ll no longer have the opportunity.

  Stephen seemed downright glum, not saying much and watching Dig with worried eyes. What was going on with these two? They’d been together for several years and, to all appearances, they adored each other. Could be it was just concern that Dig had chosen to go alone, not asking Stephen to go with him, and that hadn’t gone down well.

  After dinner, we ordered a round of drinks and I excused myself to go to the ladies room. As I came out, I almost ran smack into Dig standing just outside the door in the little entry hallway.

  “Jeez, Dig, you startled me,” I chastised.

  He caught my arm and pulled me out of the hall and to a corner where no one was around. “I want to talk to you. Look, you know I worry about you and what you’re doing bothers me.”

  I started to speak, but he held up his hand.

  “Wait. It’s hard for me to stand back and not be able to actually help. Maybe I took a risk on stage in that fight, but it was the only time I could physically do anything. Do you understand?”

  I wanted to say that I wished that he hadn’t gotten hurt and I could protect myself, but in reality, I was so glad he and Ferris had been there. “I do, Dig. But I’m concerned about you, too. Please be careful and come home safely.”

  He nodded, opened his arms, and I stepped into his hug, relishing the feel of his arms wrapping me in a cocoon. I drew in a breath of the unique gingery scent that was his. The trip was open-ended and I had a horrible fear in the pit of my stomach that he might not come back. With sudden insight, I realized this might be the same thing that worried Stephen.

  When we returned to the table, the drinks had arrived so we toasted our mate and wished him a safe journey, then said goodnight. As we went to our cars, Ferris pulled me aside.

  “Do you think he’s okay?”

  I glanced back at the doorway, then looked at Ferris and said, “He will be. I just think he’s got some issues to work out and heading back home is the place to do it.”

  “Maybe so,” Ferris agreed, sticking his hands in his coat pocket to warm them. “At least, it will be warm down there. So long as he doesn’t venture off into the Outback with his daft uncle.”

  I chuckled and agreed. After a short kiss, I climbed into my Jeep and headed home.

  THINGS WERE SHAPING up on the meeting-others-like-me front. Father Garrity agreed to a face-to-face meeting with Gavin and me. I presumed he’d checked with his superiors for permission and I expected he would try to glean as much information from us as we hoped to get from him. We were going to do it late on Friday so we could catch the priest in the morning. I was excited and hopeful. With any luck, this could give us access to a group who might already be aware of yiaiwas and have a way to combat them.

  The other breakthrough came from the secret organization I’d applied to join. Approved now, I’d been invited to their online conversation via a chat program they assured me was completely secure. It felt a little like the X-Files, and these guys were like the three loonies who helped Mulder, only there were quite a few of them it seemed. That chat would take place on Saturday morning, the best time to get as many as possible into it. In some ways, I felt this was a long shot. Their screening questions didn’t exactly screen out the delusional factor.

  Meanwhile, I kept practicing the shoulder leap with Nygard to ensure he didn’t forget what I wanted him to do. Like Digby after his brush with potential death, my cat also seemed a little different since his encounter with the shades that had nearly killed him. At times, I felt like I had a completely different animal. Most of the time, he remained the loving little soul he’d always been and stayed close to me when I was home.

  Curious about the concept of a familiar, I looked it up on the web and found out many fascinating things. For instance, I learned that all cats have a kind of extra-sensory-perception that allows them to see things that humans can’t see. Maybe he could detect spirits easier than I could. Alarming when I considered that Nygard also saw Roger’s ghost in the dining room. Or at least, he reacted to it. Only Ny knew exactly what he saw.

  A familiar was also a magical conduit and able to enhance the spells. Of course, that was a witchcraft page that stated that piece of information. I could suspect it of bias.

  I didn’t see anything specifically mentioning the threads of energy he shared with me. Several articles related the healing properties of a cat from licking human wounds to help heal them to their relaxing purr that eased stress. Another page vehemently denied that you should allow a cat or a dog to lick your wounds as they carried germs human’s had
no resistance to combat.

  Giving Nygard a grave stare, I said, “No more licking my wounds, cat. Have you got that?”

  He blinked at me and resumed cleaning his fur.

  One thing, I did pick up was that magic was relatable, depending on how the person defined it. Real magic, the ability to cast effective spells or conjure anything seemed to be relegated to fantasy. Magic such as Gavin’s or, I suppose, mine was not taken into consideration for the most part. It fell under the category of telekinesis or paranormal skill, which in themselves, were suspect. Too hard to prove.

  Apparently, I had been gifted with something very few people had and most didn’t believe.

  Exiting the most recent online article page I’d read, I retreated to the upstairs armchair and closed my eyes to rest them. I’d spent too much time staring at the computer monitor and they felt the strain. Outside my window, I heard a jay squawking about something, either the steady breezes shaking his branch or something he perceived as a threat. So long as it wasn’t a dark, shadowy creature, the bird could deal with it on its own. I took a deep breath, relaxed my shoulders, and let my mind drift.

  I felt myself floating on a raft in crystal blue-green water. As I rolled my head to the right, I could see a sandy beach a short distance away. I lazily paddled that direction using my hands. A huge rock jutted out into the water from the range of hills that formed the backdrop for this secluded cove. I recognized it as the one in the Canary Islands where I’d met with Zoe before. Why was I here?

  I pulled the raft onto the beach and looked around in all directions, not seeing a single soul. Deserted. I strolled over to the big rock and searched around the other side of the base. Nothing. As I started to turn back, I sensed the presence of someone and spun around, my heart speeding up and muscles tensing to fight.

  Zoe stood behind me.

  “Why are you here?” I asked as I recovered my breath and relaxed.

  “You know why.” Her eyes blazed with annoyance. “That jerk-shit of a man hasn’t been captured yet.”

  “Not exactly true. The Spanish police did bring him in for extradition, but he escaped.”

  “Po-ta-toes, po-taa-toes. Same problem. He’s still fuckin’ loose. You promised me he would pay for murdering me and Saffi.” The same determination as always drove her words. “If I have to hunt him down, I will, and I will haunt his worthless ass as long as it takes.”

  “Zoe, you crossed over. You and Saffi did make it safely, didn’t you?”

  “We made it, but it doesn’t mean we can’t come back for a visit if we’re determined enough, Angel Girl.” She stuck out her tongue as she mocked me, then sat in the sand. Actually, one moment she was standing and the next she was cross-legged in the sand. Movement seemed to be instant for her.

  I, on the hand, had to go through the motions to sit.

  “What’s it like?” I asked. “The other side.”

  She looked thoughtful as she searched for words. “It’s pretty amazing, but I can’t talk about it or give you any details.”

  “Why not?” My eyes narrowed as I thought she was holding out on me.

  “I just can’t. It’s a block in my consciousness that I know what it is and I can visualize it, but I can’t put it into words. I think—although I’m not positive—that each soul has to discover it for themselves. It may even appear different to each person although Saffi and I are together.” She frowned a little. “Peculiar, isn’t it?”

  “It sounds it. Look, about Nick—”

  She rolled her eyes. “I know he’s a slimy snake who slipped away somehow. He had to have bribed a guard and he must have someone working with him to have pulled that off, don’t you think? Why did the extradition take so long? How did he manage to stall it?”

  “I don’t know. I just heard a few days ago that he’d gotten away. So where would he go?”

  She pursed her lips and gazed around the cove. “Well, certainly not back here. He’d get out of the islands and head somewhere that doesn’t have a treaty with the U.S. He had connections in Russia, even though I don’t think that would be his first choice.”

  “Here’s my problem, Zoe. I don’t know if I can help you. If I had a location, I could suggest to my friend at the Sheriff’s Office that he could look there. Or if I knew someone he associated with in Reno, then maybe the detective could pry some information out of him.”

  “He had a couple of close buddies,” she answered. “Greg Jensen and Pete Mendoza were both pals since high school. I never trusted either of those two, but the three of them were thick as ticks.”

  I recognized the first name as the man who owned the storage company in Sun Valley. He must have known I wasn’t Nick’s secretary if he’d been close to Nick. Unless he’d never met Saffi and didn’t realize Nick had murdered her.

  Zoe went on. “But don’t you still have his email address? I doubt the idiot has changed it.”

  A smile slipped onto my face as I nodded. “You’re right, I do. Maybe we can figure out something—some way to lure him back.”

  “But I have other problems,” I added. “There’s more trouble with those demons you and Zoe saw before you went into the tunnel.”

  She scrunched her face into a distasteful grimace. “They were nasty scary. I don’t think I’ve ever been as frightened of something as those blobs of evil. You could smell it radiating off them like a pile of shit.”

  “They are pure vileness,” I agreed. “Stopping them has to be my priority. There’s even a chance they’re on the plane where you are, so stay alert.”

  “And do what?” Her eyes narrowed as she shot a grimace at me. “Am I supposed to fight them?”

  Good question. I thought a moment, then asked, “Isn’t there someone in charge where you are that you can report it?”

  She frowned. “This side isn’t a continuation of our earthly life, you know. Everything is different here, but maybe I can find someone to help.”

  “And let me know if you can. We—my friends and I—are hoping they haven’t breached that plane yet. But—”

  “I understand. Look, I know my problem isn’t yours, but I really need your help with Nick,” she said in the nicest tone I’d heard from her. “I can’t bear the prospect of that ass not being punished for murder.”

  “Oh, he will be,” I said with certainty. “Maybe not in life, but I’m sure he’ll find a personal Hell waiting for him when he dies.”

  “At the very least, he’ll find Saffi and me,” she said with a wicked grin. She winked, then vanished.

  I slept on, oblivious to the dream until I awoke a couple of hours later. A fully realized vision, it was a memory as strong as if I’d done it that day. If I could control these vision dreams, I could take nice holiday breaks in amazing places on a regular basis.

  With a deep sigh, I acknowledged that I had another unresolved problem on my already overflowing plate. One more reason to contact Moss. Damn.

  But I put it off, for now, wanting to have a plan before I talked to him. Zoe had mentioned Nick’s email address and I wondered how I might set him up using it to either bring him back to Nevada or learn where he was. Maybe the detectives could trace an email to his IP address. Didn’t they do that all the time in movies?

  Late on Friday night, Gavin pulled a chair up to my computer, setting it a little behind me so we were both visible on the screen.

  “We should have done this at my office where I could connect to the television and remote camera,” he grumbled.

  “Now you tell me?” I sniped back as I rang the contact number that Father Garrity had sent me.

  Almost instantly, he answered. “Good evening, America. It is such a treat to speak to you like this.”

  “Good morning, Father,” I replied, seeing as it was early Saturday morning in his part of the world. “Thank you for talking with us. I’m Gillian Foster—” I made a point of introducing myself so he would know it was Gill-ian, not Jill-ian as the British usually pronounce it. “—and t
his is Professor Gavin Haines. His specialty, as I mentioned, is archeology.”

  “A pleasure,” Gavin inserted. “I also have degrees in anthropology and Eastern studies.”

  “Likewise, I am delighted,” the Father replied, his accent reflecting his Midlands roots.

  His pleasant smile puffed his cherub cheeks up more and his deep blue eyes crinkled at the edges. He seemed a generally jolly man and probably a well-loved village priest. He didn’t seem like the suspicious person who’d sent that first hesitant response to me, so I felt he’d been instructed on the phrasing.

  He glanced down at his desktop, then back up and asked, “Now, please bear with me. I want to be sure of my information. You are both investigating these visions of demon-like creatures that a few people appear to be seeing. Is that correct?”

  “It’s more than that,” Gavin replied. “We have both seen them and they aren’t visions. They’re very real.”

  The cheery expression vanished, replaced in an instant with a wary and frightened look. Perhaps we’d cut to the chase too soon.

  “Real?” he squeaked.

  “Come on, Father. Don’t act so surprised. I’m sure you’ve told your superiors about the reports and what you said you saw. Didn’t they give you any confirmations?”

  He seemed nervous. “Yes, of course, I told my monsignor about it and he passed it along to higher authorities in the Church. But no, they didn’t tell me anything more than to keep watch and report back to them.”

  “I see. Can you tell us what you know about them? What you can reveal?” Gavin’s voice edged on sarcasm.

  “It’s really important, Father,” I added trying to soften his tone. “We’ll tell you more about our experiences as well.”

  I could see the tip of a pen bouncing up and down in time with a soft tap on the desk as he fidgeted with it while he composed his thoughts. “Very well. Here’s what I have encountered. One day, behind the church, I spotted a shadow lingering at the edge of the garden. I thought it was a man and I called to him, asking if he needed assistance. The thing turned toward me and all I could see was a pair of burning red eyes that seemed to try to bore into me. As it started toward me, I ran into the church and bolted the door shut. I sprinkled a little Holy Water along the bottom, then did the same at the front entrance, which is never locked except after ten at night, unless we have midnight services.”