When the Spirit Calls (When the Spirit... series - Book 2)

by Thomas DePrima

"Not in a permanent way. He just has to rebuild his ethereal energy. It's like with us mortals. After we exhaust ourselves doing some task that saps our energy, we need to rebuild it, and that can take time."

  "I thought you were crazy. I'm so sorry."

  "I'm used to it," Arlene said.

  "Can you still see him?"

  "Yes, he's still here. But I can see he's fatigued now. It took a great deal out of him, and he'd have to rest before he could do it again, but no permanent damage was done."

  Maria sniffled and said, "Papa, I love you. All the more for staying to watch over me, but I want you to go to Momma now. I'll be fine. The restaurant is doing well and I'm happy. Give Momma my love when you see her."

  After a few seconds, Arlene said, "He says he made a promise. He can't leave until it's your time to cross over."

  "Papa, I want you to leave," Maria said. "You deserve to be happy also. You're all alone here. I'll be fine. I release you from your promise."

  "He says he'll only agree to leave if you marry Tony. He says he knows Tony would be a good husband and that he can then join Momma, confident that you'll have someone to look after you. He says he knows you love Tony with all your heart and he doesn't understand why you keep procrastinating."

  Maria smiled and sniffled again when a new tissue floated towards her. After plucking it out of the air, she said, "I do love Tony, Papa, but I've been afraid that getting married would spoil what we have."

  "Papa says that's silly, and he's definitely not leaving until you and Tony tie the knot. He says you're almost forty now and it might already be too late for children, but he wants you to try."

  Maria laughed through her tears. "That's all he ever talked about— grandchildren." Then becoming a little sadder, she added, "Momma died in childbirth. I would have had a little brother if not for the problems."

  "Papa says that such things happen, and that it shouldn't have stopped you from having a family."

  "I was afraid—afraid of dying as my mother did."

  "Mortal death is just another step along the highway of our existence. You can't become so fearful of death that you forget to live." Arlene turned her head briefly towards where Papa was standing then turned back towards Maria. "Papa says that your brother is with Momma. You'll meet him when you cross over."

  Maria's jaw dropped slightly again.

  A knock at the door preceded it opening. The waitress who had taken the lunch order stuck her head in and said, "Miss Watson's order is ready, Maria."

  "Thank you, Nancy," Maria said as she dabbed at her eyes with the tissue and stood up. "Her order is no charge."

  "I can't let you do that," Arlene said. "I'm picking up food for seven people."

  "I insist. No charge, Nancy."

  After the waitress left and closed the door, Maria said, "I won't take your money today. You've made me happier than I've been since before Papa died. Please forget that I asked you to stop talking to Papa. If the other customers don't like it, it's too bad. I'm sure Papa will appreciate your acknowledging his presence. He's always loved hearing compliments from the customers."

  "He says that if you think the business will be adversely affected, he doesn't mind my not talking to him. He says he won't move anything when other people are present and that you shouldn't talk to him unless you're alone."

  "How often is he here?"

  "He says he's here whenever you are."

  "You're the only one who can see and hear him, Madam Arlene, and I want him to have those occasional greetings. And if others start talking to him, like Richard Bolger, that's perfectly acceptable also."

  Arlene smiled and took Maria's proffered hand. "Thank you for the lunch."

  Maria sniffled and smiled. "Thank you for opening my mind and my eyes. And thank you for passing on Papa's words to me. Please come again. You're always welcome here."

  * * *

  Lt. Richard Bolger tapped the proper combination code into the keypad next to the side door by the parking lot and entered the air-conditioned fire station. During the summer tourist season, his favorite watering hole was always overrun with strangers, so he often came here to enjoy a few quiet beers before heading home after a tiring day. Like so many volunteer fire departments, the local company was a focal point for the rural residents. Their 'community' room sported a forty-foot-long, highly polished maple bar that was the envy of many commercial establishments. Hard liquor was doled out sparingly, at cost, but there were four different non-alcoholic carbonated beverages and two different beers on tap for the department members who needed to unwind after a fire or on evenings when they got together to socialize. For those with more discriminating tastes, the bar also offered six different imported beers. The on-tap beverages were provided free in limited quantities per member per evening, with the imported beers being provided at cost.

  Spotting Herb Riddell down near the end of the bar, Lt. Bolger climbed onto the empty stool next to him. Herb was a member of the department and could usually be found here for a couple of hours after work. Bolger caught the eye of the department member presently serving as bartender and nodded. A sixteen-ounce mug of frosty cold pilsner was set in front of him a few seconds later. He drained half the glass before satisfying the burning thirst that had been building in him for the past hour as thoughts of that first cold draught of the evening filled his mind.

  With his initial thirst slaked, Bolger looked towards Riddell and said, "Hey, Herb."

  Riddell seemed to become aware of Bolger's presence for the first time and responded in like manner.

  "Tough day?" Bolger asked.

  Riddell roused himself from his stupor and said, "No more than usual. You?"

  "Same-o, same-o."

  "Yeah," Riddell said before lapsing into silence again. Several minutes passed before he said, "Rich?"

  "Yeah, Herb."

  "Uh, you've spoken with this Watson woman several times, haven't you?"

  "Yeah, I have."

  After another minute, he asked, "Do you believe her?"

  "About what?"

  "About there being an afterlife. About spirits roaming the earth after their body dies."

  Richard took another deep drink before responding. "I dunno, Herb. I know I certainly didn't before I met her. Since then, I've been seriously questioning my convictions on the matter."

  "Yeah, I know what you mean. I always thought that stuff was just so much horse-pucky, but when she correctly identified the two bones I'd swapped on Simona's skeleton, she blew my mind. It was the metacarpal bone that really did it. Selecting the fibula could have been a fluke because of its prominent size, but the metacarpal? I mean, the human hand has twenty-seven bones. That's even more than the foot. Even if she'd somehow learned that I'd swapped a bone from a hand, she only had a one in fifty-four chance of picking the right one."

  "You think she had advance information?"

  "No, I don't, which is why I'm so bothered. She couldn't have known. I didn't tell anyone, and the bones were so nearly identical that I had to mark the substituted bones with a tiny ink dot from a black marking pen so I could keep them straight. I didn't even decide to swap the metacarpal until a few minutes before Gisela arrived."

  "Maybe Miss Watson saw the dot."

  "No way. It isn't visible until you pick up the bone, and even then you have to know where to look. No, she couldn't have done it that way."

  After another minute of silence during which Bolger finished his beer and received a refill, he said, "Then it sounds like you've eliminated every possibility but one."

  "One?" Riddell said. "Which one?"

  "That she really did get the information from Simona's spirit."

  "Yeah," Riddell said with a scowl. "That's what bothers me. I've been slicing and dicing human bodies for years. When I think now that the spirits of those poor people have been looking over my shoulder while I cut up their bodies, it gives me nightmares. I mean, how would you feel about watching somebody cut off the top of your skull
so they could take a temperature reading of your brain, or worse, remove your brain so it could be weighed or dissected? How about when I eviscerate a corpse so we can determine the contents of the stomach?"

  "They can't feel anything, Herb."

  "How do you know that? I mean, if their spirit still lives, how do we know that all connection has been severed?"

  "I'm sure Madam Arlene would have mentioned that, if it were true. And she's said that most spirits cross over as soon as their body dies."

  "Madam Arlene?"

  "Miss Watson. Uh, a lot of folks have begun calling her Madam Arlene now. It's supposed to be some kind of expression of respect for her paranormal abilities."

  "What about the spirits who have a reason to stick around? Like the ones who died as a result of foul play. They're the ones who mostly come under my knife."

  "I don't know, Herb. Perhaps you should ask Madam Arlene."

  "I can't do that."

  "Why not?"

  "I have to consider my position. I can't be seen giving credence to her foolish preachings."

  "She doesn't preach, Herb. And as far as I can see, her beliefs don't disagree with those of most organized religions. She believes in one God, and credits him, or her, with creating life and the three different planes of existence."

  "Three?"

  "Here, what she calls the mortal world, the Underworld, or what we normally call Hell, and the immortal world, what we normally refer to as Heaven or Paradise. The main difference is that she believes the spirits of essentially good people are free to remain here after they die, while evil spirits are immediately dragged down to the Underworld. Organized religions usually teach that a spirit is immediately pulled to heaven for judgment, then is allowed through the Pearly Gates or is cast down into Hell. I kinda like her interpretation better."

  "I sure don't," Riddell said. "Now, late at night when I'm alone in the morgue, I can't stop looking over my shoulder."

  "Seen anything?"

  "Not yet— I don't think. But ever since she told me that the spirit of Simona was standing right next to me, I keep hearing things."

  "What kinds of things?"

  "The kind of things I always thought was simply the wind or creaking from expansion and contraction as things heated up or cooled."

  "They probably are."

  "Yeah— maybe. But what if they aren't?"

  * * *

  "I'm sorry, Sheriff," Lt. Bolger said after being called into the sheriff's office to report on the status of his assignment the next day. "Miss Watson and her friends are doing some kind of research in Madam Elana's shop. I don't think you could get her out of town with dynamite."

  "Dammit, Dick, that's unacceptable. I want her gone. I'm taking a lot of heat. Now you do whatever it takes to get her across the county line."

  "Sheriff, I serve at your pleasure, and I think I've done a good job for you in the past, but I'm not going to strong-arm this woman out of town. She can buy the best legal minds in the country, and she'll sue this town for a trillion dollars if we try any nonsense like that. What's more, she'll probably win. What would that do to your chances for re-election?"

  "Dammit, there must be a way to get rid of her."

  "If she was universally disliked, it would be a lot easier, but a lot of people have met her and developed a friendship with her."

  "You're talking about the lunatic group who think they're witches?"

  "Not just Madam Elana's coven. Everywhere she's gone, she's made friends. I know Maria Gianni and Anthony Rizzo would instantly line up on her side if it came down to a fight. I heard this morning that they've finally decided to get married, and the word is that Madam Arlene is responsible."

  When the sheriff looked at him sharply, he said, "Sorry, I meant to say Miss Watson."

  "Damn, I always gave Gianni credit for more brains than that. How could she fall for a line from some charlatan who professes to see ghosts everywhere?"

  "She doesn't see ghosts everywhere, Sheriff. So far she's only identified two."

  "It sounds like she's convinced you her powers are real."

  "I've done my damndest to remain impartial, but she's pretty convincing. We had only been in the morgue for seconds when she correctly identified the bones Riddell had swapped. I think Herb's becoming a believer, despite what he says, and you know what a skeptic he is about anything without a scientific basis."

  "Damn! Herb too? Dick, we have got to get rid of this woman. Before we know it, she'll be running for mayor."

  "I think it's too late to get her out of town quietly. It would be best if we just back off and let her do whatever she's doing in the antiques shop. In a couple of months she'll have to return to college, and this will all be forgotten."

  "If I don't get rid of her now, I might not even be on the ticket come November. Are you looking to become sheriff?"

  "Me? No way. You know I don't want your job."

  "I didn't think so, but you're not doing anything to keep me in it. Look, I'll level with you. Ralph Godwell, the party chairman in this county, has as much as told me that either she leaves town or my political funding from the party for the next election cycle will wilt to nothing."

  "Why does the party chairman want her gone? He doesn't even live in this township."

  "How the hell do I know? Maybe he's taking heat for her being here also. I only know he said to get her out of town any way I could. So I will get her out of this town."

  "Sheriff, I'm a criminal justice professional, not a politician. Point me at a crime and I'll solve it, but I'm no good at playing political games."

  "This has gone way beyond games, Dick. I'm fighting for my political life, and no rich bitch from Massachusetts is going to bring me down. Now you get her to pack her bags and then escort her to the county line and make sure she doesn't come back."

  * * *

  Chapter Seven

  "I've found something," Erin said, sitting up quickly at the reading room table. "It swears to be a direct transcription of a parchment scroll from the second century A.D."

  Arlene, Renee, Megan, and Madam Elana marked their places with clean slips of archival paper and closed the books they were reading to give her their full attention. It was late, and all were tired, but hope immediately filled their faces.

  "Does it mention Kamet by name?" Arlene asked.

  "No, it seems to be a general incantation."

  "Read it to us," Madam Elana said.

  "But what if it brings Kamet here now, before we're ready?"

  "I think it's safe enough," Arlene said. "You've never exhibited any special powers that suggest you could summon a spirit by yourself."

  "Okay," Erin said, nodding, then began to read the incantation from the handwritten book.

  "Translate it into English, please," Madam Elana said. "My Latin is extremely limited."

  "Sorry," Erin said, then started again, reading haltingly as she translated the Latin text. "By my command shall all— demonic entities— immediately assemble here. We give notice that for too long have the— adjudged of evil— walked among the— innocent. Morta's will has been— challenged— by those who would do others harm. The— disembodied evil— must now return to its— deserved— place in darkness below."

  "But it doesn't rhyme," Megan said.

  "It doesn't have to rhyme, Meg," Arlene said. "That seems to be a convention started by William Shakespeare when he had his witches in MacBeth utter famous lines like, 'Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble.' As Madam Elana has said, the spoken words, while important, are not nearly as crucial as the ability of the speaker to focus the ethereal energy necessary to work the spell."

  "I didn't understand that line about Morta's will being challenged," Madam Elana said.

  "Morta," Erin replied, "is the Roman name for the deity who— like her Greek counterpart Atropos— is the Fate that cuts the thread of life. To again quote the immortal bard, 'That which we call a rose— By any other name woul
d smell as sweet.'"

  "Erin, what's the background of the spell?" Arlene asked.

  "Reportedly, during an eight- or nine-month period in the second century A.D., a number of grisly murders were committed by an unknown individual in a rural area near Naples. When a priest with bloody hands was discovered standing over the dead body of a villager, he was restrained and taken to the village elder. He claimed to have no knowledge of the murder and announced that he must have been possessed. The village elder, believing in the piety of that particular priest, decided that a demon must have been summoned forth during a pagan ritual to celebrate a bountiful harvest the previous fall. Why he leapt to that conclusion isn't established. But he contacted the elders of the surrounding villages, all of whom had participated in the pagan ritual, and all agreed to meet on a hillside after dark to perform an— exorcism of the priest. They formed a circle around the priest and the elder who had summoned them, linking arms by each gripping the forearm of the elder on either side, while they chanted the lines over and over again in unison, along with the elder inside the circle. After a time, the priest collapsed to the ground and the elder in the circle is said to have begun to glow with an intense white light that seemed to emanate from his chest. A villager appeared and repeatedly tried to reach the elder in the circle, but he was unable to breach the closed circle and finally collapsed upon the ground, exhausted. At almost the same instant, one of the elders from a different village released the arms of those on either side of him and rushed to the elder at the center of the circle. The priest then got up and rushed to take the place of the one who had broken the circle. As the elder who had been part of the circle began to glow himself, he physically attacked the chanting elder in an apparent attempt to stop him or perhaps kill him. The glow of both continued to grow in intensity as they struggled violently until the light grew so bright and painful to the eyes of the elders still forming the circle that they had to look away. Suddenly, the glow completely disappeared, casting the area into instant darkness. When the other elders lit torches, they discovered the bodies of the two elders who had been encircled and carried them back to the village. There were no more reports of unexplained murders after that."