by E. C. Bell
“They’ll know what I should do,” I muttered.
At least, I hoped they would.
LUCKILY, PHILLIPA WASN’T there, but Franklin was. And when I told him what was going on, he got mad. I mean, really pissed. I’d never seen him like that before.
“You don’t have to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, you know.” He said it gently enough, but he was pulsing out red and black waves of emotion so thick and fast it was hard for me to see across the room.
“But Marie wants me to help her,” I said. “I don’t feel right letting her down. I told her I’d help.”
“You let me handle Marie,” Franklin said. “As a matter of fact, I think you should stay away from her for a while. Until she gets her priorities straight.”
I didn’t like the idea of staying away from Marie, even if her priorities did need straightening. But the look on Franklin’s face told me that it was probably best that I didn’t cross him either. So, reluctantly, I nodded.
“Good,” he said, and then he was gone and I was left alone with the rest of the dead, all eager to tell their tales of woe to anybody who’d listen. Unfortunately, that included me.
I listened, and nodded, and tried to offer encouragement. But mostly, I hoped that Franklin wasn’t too hard on Marie. I didn’t want her mad at me, I really didn’t, because I was pretty sure I was going to need her to help me do what I had decided I wanted to do about the next planeof my existence, or whatever she’d called it. I just didn’t want to have to haunt my old psychiatrist, Dr. Parkerson, in exchange for it.
A hell of a conundrum, and the only one who could help me was a deaf spirit still dealing with PTSD from the Vietnam War.
Marie:
The Intervention
MY ROOM STILL reeked of the bleach the staff had used to clean up all the blood. It made me feel sick to my stomach, but it wasn’t the only thing making me feel ill. I felt wracked with guilt over what I’d convinced Jasper to do.
If only there was a way to get out of this room and go find him. Tell him I’d changed my mind.
I’d find another way to handle it. Somehow. But using him that way wasn’t right.
“It’s a bad idea,” the voice that was not my mother’s whispered into the bleach-drenched air.
“I know,” I muttered. I’d hoped that the new meds my shrink had me on would have made that voice go away, but it hadn’t. In fact, it sounded even louder—more real.
“Do something,” it whispered.
“I can’t,” I whispered back.
“Do something,” the voice insisted.
“I can’t do anything!” I cried. I knew that arguing with the stupid voice wasn’t going to help me one iota, but it wouldn’t leave me alone.
“Do something,” it said again, and I was really going to start yelling, but then cold air washed over me and Franklin was standing before me, looking furious.
“What the hell is wrong with you, girl?” he asked, his monotone voice belying the angry look on his face. “What are you trying to do to Jasper?”
Oh.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“You should be,” he replied. “He’d do anything for you, you know.”
“I know he has a bit of a crush—”
“A bit of a crush?” he roared. “He doesn’t have just a bit of a crush! How foolish are you, girl?”
That miffed me a bit, even though I was in the wrong. I sat up straight and glared at him. “Look,” I said. “I know I shouldn’t have asked him to haunt Dr. Parkerson, but he could have said no.”
He looked at me, askance. “Do you really believe that?” he asked.
I looked down at my hands as guilt washed over me once more. “No,” I said. “You’re right. He’d do anything I asked.”
“Glad you’re ready to admit that,” he said. “Now, I’m going to tell him that you’re letting him off the hook for the haunting.”
“All right.”
“And I’m going to tell him to stay away from you,” he continued. “I don’t think you’re any good for that young man, sorry to say.”
He was speaking the truth, and I felt even deeper shame. What the hell was wrong with me, taking advantage of the poor guy the way I had? And just to get me out of a jam, too.
All right, so it was more than a jam, but still. I never should have even suggested it. I should have done—well, what my mother would have done. Moved him on, without involving him in my own drama.
“You’re right,” I said. “But I told him I’d help him move on . . .”
“Move on?”
“It’s what—my mother called helping spirits move through the veil to their next form of existence,” I said. “It’s something I can do.”
Franklin glared me to silence. “I’ve never heard of that before,” he said. “Sounds like a scam to me. Is it? Is it some kind of scam?”
I was shocked to the core that he thought I was actually running a scam on him. On Jasper. “No,” I said. “It’s all real. I can help spirits who are stuck in this plane move on.”
“So, was the haunting supposed to be some kind of payment?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “I don’t expect any spirit to pay me for moving them on.”
I thought about how many times I’d complained about exactly that, over the years, and felt my face heat with embarrassment. I had been breaking every rule in my mother’s book, and Franklin was calling me on all of them.
“He doesn’t have to pay anything,” I said again, “and I never should have asked him to help me. That was unprofessional of me. Very unprofessional.” I took a step toward him and held out my hand. “I’m sorry to you, too. For having to clean up the mess I made this way. Jasper has a good friend in you. I hope he realizes that.”
Franklin looked down at his feet and harrumphed. “I don’t think he sees me as a friend, exactly,” he said.
“Father figure?”
“No,” he said. “Jasper wasn’t one for father figures, since his ran out on him and left him with his mother. But thank you for saying I’m his friend. I hope he realizes it, some day. Now, tell me how this moving on business works.”
I quickly gave him the basics of moving on. He grasped most of it, and even asked a good question or two before we were done. “So, this is what you want to do to Jasper,” he said.
“Yes,” I replied. “I was holding off until—”
“Until you put your troubles aside?” he asked, and I felt my face heat again.
“No,” I said. “I was waiting to see if I could figure out who was killing people here. Jasper’s convinced that it’s happening—and I think he might be right.”
“How so?” Franklin asked. Then he snapped his fingers. “That’s why he was quizzing us all about how we died. Right?”
“Right. A lot of people have died of heart attacks. Way too many to be just a coincidence.”
Franklin blinked. “Like me,” he said. “I had one of those, but I didn’t think anything of it. After all, I was seventy-nine when I died, so having the old ticker go isn’t out of the question.”
“You ever have heart trouble before that?” I asked.
“Well, no,” he said. “The doc said I had the heart of a forty-year-old, which I took to be a compliment, right up until I died.” He shrugged. “Then I figured he missed something that finally caught up with me.”
“Or, he didn’t miss anything,” I said. “And somebody caused you to have a heart attack and killed you.”
“Well, damn.” He frowned. “Who would do such a thing?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Not yet. But I think I’m getting close. I just have to figure out who doles out the medication for the patients.”
“That would be Nurse Melodie,” he said. “At least, she was the one who did it when I was alive. Shouldn’t be hard to find out if she’s still in charge.”
“How?” I asked.
“I’d just have to hang around the pharmacy first thing in t
he morning,” he said. “To see who distributes the meds.”
“You?” I said. “It doesn’t need to be you.”
“Who are you going to get?” he asked. “Jasper? Phillipa? Maybe one of your living friends?”
“Well, no,” I said, then I stopped. “I don’t want to ask you to do anything for me,” I said. “Because I don’t want you to think I’m scamming you or trying to make you pay me for something that I should be doing for free. I don’t want you to think I’m using you.” My throat tightened, and for a second I was afraid I was going to burst into tears. “Like I thought about using Jasper.” I shook my head and whispered, “Man, it probably would be better for him if he didn’t come near me anymore. I haven’t been good for him. I really haven’t.”
“Ah, you haven’t been that bad,” Franklin said. “Just inconsiderate. The good thing is, you can’t do that to me because I’m the one offering to help you. Big difference there, you know.”
“I guess,” I said, though I was beginning to think that getting ghosts to do anything for me was wrong and my mother was completely right—I shouldn’t be involved in their existence. I should just be trying to figure out the best way to help them decide to move on. That was all. It was enough for my mother, and it needed to be enough for me, too.
“Good,” he said. “Now that we’re finished with all that nastiness, I think it’s time for you to take another sign language lesson.” He grinned. “Call it your payment to me for the job I’m about to do.”
I laughed and shook my head. “All right,” I said. “Give me that lesson.”
At least I wouldn’t have to think about how I’d screwed up everything so royally for a while. And that was a real relief.
I REMEMBERED A lot more than I thought I would, considering all the different meds Parkerson had been pouring into me. Franklin only had to correct me a couple of times and then we were able to carry on a relatively decent conversation. It took forever, of course, because all I knew how to do was sign the alphabet.
“I thought there were other signs,” I said as I shook my hands to keep my fingers from cramping. “You know. Signs for whole words. Mother, father, baby. Stuff like that. This would go much more quickly if there were whole words.”
“There are,” Franklin said. “But I wanted to make sure that you—and Jasper—were serious about learning.” He smiled. “Looks like you are, so after I go find out what Nurse Melodie’s up to, I’ll give you another lesson.”
“And Jasper?” I asked.
“If he wants to learn,” he said.
“Please let him come back and talk to me,” I whispered. “I promise, I won’t be so selfish, this time. I’d really like to help him, if I can.”
“I’ll think on it,” he said. Then he smiled. “It’ll probably be yes, once I’m certain you learned your lesson.”
“Thank you.”
I hoped he believed me, because I meant every word. I owed Jasper, big time, and the least I could do was help him decide next steps in the matter of his existence. But first, I had to make sure that Nurse Melodie was the one who was poisoning her patients.
Hopefully, before she decided to poison me to get me out of the way.
Marie:
I'm Free! Or Am I?
FRANKLIN HAD JUST left when I heard the lock turn in my door. It was Dr. Parkerson. My surprise turned to something darker when I saw that she seemed to be on the verge of crying.
“What happened?” I asked. “Lose another patient?”
All right, so I shouldn’t have been making snarky remarks, because she held the key to my freedom in no uncertain terms, but I’d expected her to at least keep her cool. She didn’t.
“Gather your things,” she said. “It’s time for you to go.”
Those were literally the last words I’d expected to hear. I shook my head, thinking that perhaps the meds were finally affecting my ability to hear the living. “What?”
“I said gather your things,” she said again. Her hands were shaking, and every last bit of her cool, calm psychiatrist demeanour was gone. “You are being released.”
“But—” I started. She rolled right over my words as though I hadn’t even opened my mouth.
“I don’t know where your boyfriend found that lawyer,” she said, “but he certainly earned his fee. You are free to go, immediately.” Her eyes thinned. “I’d hurry if I were you. Because if I can convince even one person that you are dangerous—which you are—you’ll be back here, and not just for an assessment.”
I snapped my mouth shut and looked around the room where I was being held. Somehow James had fixed things and I was getting out. I grabbed my hairbrush and held it like a talisman.
“Are those my clothes?” I asked, pointing at a plastic bag she was holding.
“Here.” She tossed the bag on the bed. “Get dressed, and then go to the nurse’s desk. You have some paperwork you have to fill out, and then you’re free to go.”
I grabbed the bag and opened it. Breathed in the smell of my regular life, and felt like crying, but forced myself to calm and pulled out my clothes. “Can I have a little privacy?” I asked. “While I get dressed?”
She opened the door and stepped through it into the hallway. “Come out when you’re ready,” she said. “I’ll take you to the nurse’s desk.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I said. “I know the way.”
“I’m sure you do,” she said. “But there’s paperwork.”
She closed the door, and for the first time since I’d been brought to this place, I didn’t hear the lock click. I was actually free to go.
I pulled off the blue pyjamas and dressed quickly. My hands shook, and I buttoned my shirt wrong. Cursed and started again, and that was when I heard my mother’s voice.
“You can’t go,” it whispered. In my ear, and all around me, at the same time. “You made a promise.”
My hands slowed, but I didn’t stop doing up the buttons. The voice of my mother who was not my mother needed to shut the hell up. I could figure out who was killing the patients just as easily away from this place. With James, and Sylvia Worth, and the rest of my friends. I had friends out there, waiting for me. Jasmine even, if she’d decided that I wasn’t too scary to be around.
“No,” the voice said. “It was never about the killings. You promised to move him on.”
“Shut up,” I growled.
“Once you leave, you’ll never come back,” the damned voice said. “Parkerson will make sure of it, no matter what she says. Jasper and the rest of these spirits will stay in this place, trapped, and it will be your fault.”
I stared down at the blue pyjamas that smelled like bleach and felt like crying. The stupid voice was right. I had made a promise to Jasper. And to Franklin, and even to Phillipa. I needed to help them all move on, and I wouldn’t be able to do that if I left this place.
I sighed, and slowly pulled off my shirt and jeans. Drew on the blue pyjamas, and the smell of bleach washed over me again, like it was trying to wash stains from my very soul.
“Dr. Parkerson,” I said, through the closed door. “I need to talk to you.”
“Very well,” she said, and opened the door. Looked at the pyjamas I was still wearing and frowned. “What is it?” she asked, and gestured to my shirt and jeans, abandoned on the bed. “Are those not your clothes?”
“Yes,” I said. “They are. But I’ve decided that I should stay here. Just for a while longer.”
“What?” It was Dr. Parkerson’s turn to look confused. “But your lawyer—”
“I know,” I said. “But I still have work to do, and I can’t do it out in the world.”
“Does this unfinished business have to do with your apparitions?” she asked. “With that poltergeist you were telling me about?”
“Yes,” I said. “It does.”
“Well, it’s good that you’re willing to admit that,” she said. She didn’t look like she believed what she was saying. She was going
to have to work on her neutral shrink face, she really was. “But we can talk about it at your next session. Since you’re staying.”
“Yes,” I said. “Of course. But if I do this, I want more freedom than I have now.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I want to go to meals with everyone else,” I said. “And go to group. And the rec area. On my own.” I pointed at the door. “No more locking me in.”
She frowned. “I don’t know . . .” she started, so I shook my head.
“All right then,” I said, and reached for my regular clothes. “No deal.”
“But you said—”
“I know what I said,” I snapped. “But now I’m changing the deal. What do you say?”
My guess was that she was so desperate to keep me here that I could get a few concessions, at least in the short term. Which meant that I’d be able to get information myself. And find the ghosts when I needed them. Not just when they decided to show their translucent faces.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll give you more freedom, but you must agree to be more compliant.”
I honestly didn’t know how I could more compliant, since they’d micro-managed absolutely every aspect of my life since I got here, but I shrugged and agreed.
“Here’s the last concession I want,” I said. “When I’m done here, I get to leave. You can’t keep me.”
She looked at me for a long moment, and I know she dearly wanted to say “No damned way that’s ever happening,” but finally she nodded.
The voice of my non-mother wound through my head. “You’re doing the right thing,” it whispered. “You have to stay.”
I stared at my shrink, trying not to give away the fact that I was hearing things. There was no way I was telling her about this. Ever. There was being compliant, and then there was being stupid. I didn’t know what the voice was, but I’d figure it out myself.