A Quarrel Called: Stewards Of The Plane Book 1

by Shannon Wendtland

  Yeah I could, in the morning. I put the phone on my bedside table and kicked off my shoes and lay back. The moon just visible at the edge of my bedroom window wasn’t as full as it had been a week before, but that cat was out walking the neighborhood again. He stopped and marked Thompson’s car, and then he walked over and sniffed Thompson’s front door. He marked it, too. Somehow the audacity of the cat made me feel better. Until a shadow moved past my window and I nearly fell out of my bed scrambling for the meager light of my phone.

  The hoot of an owl wafted hauntingly over the air and I decided that maybe I’d sleep with my closet light on tonight. No one else had to know.

  Only, please, don’t let me dream.

  13. MELODY

  Matthew and I are lost. Tall trees block out the sun as the chirp and buzz of forest sounds go silent with every step we take deeper into the woods. It is impossibly deep and dark and the trees are twisted into arcane shapes. I’ve never been this far before, but Matthew looks over his shoulder and smiles at me and waves me onward. I try to call out to him, but as my mouth opens and closes, the words get stuck. My stomach begins to churn. Snap! Branches break to my right; the sound makes me jump. When I look to Matthew again, I can barely see him in front of me, his dim shape trudging ever deeper into the forest. I run to catch up, but he is too far ahead.

  The tickle of foreign fingers creeps up my spine; something is behind me. A wave of cold washes through my body and my blood pounds as I plunge head first into the darkness, Matthew’s beckoning hand only a memory. I trip over a branch and plow into the forest floor, bits of leaves and moss flying into my face. As I roll over to face my pursuer, a shadow beast leaps forward, landing on my chest. It leans in close, only darkness and teeth, putrid breath steaming in my face. The pressure on my chest grows, the ground opening up beneath me, threatening to swallow me even as the shadow beast looms overhead. My fear fades, and my vision with it, as I sink, down, down, down into the earth, the pressure on my chest inescapable.

  I jerked awake, suddenly aware that the pressure on my chest was not just a dream, but a physical sensation.

  Something. Is. Here.

  I strained to see in the darkness. I could not move, the weight was so great. But there was a smell, a faint odor of rotten meat left over from my dream and it felt hot and moist and in my face. My cellphone lit up from a notification and suddenly I could see: the shadow creature was perched on my chest, its eyes like black beads, recessed in their sockets, only the barest flicker of intelligence. Teeth mere inches from my face.

  Heart pounding, adrenaline rushing through my veins, I struggled against the shadow, the nightmare in my face, but I was paralyzed. Helpless. My throat closed tight. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t even look away.

  A thump sounded at my window. The thing on my chest glanced up. When it did, I suddenly had the ability to move. My limbs felt heavy and I couldn’t muster the coordination to thrust the creature away from me, though I did manage to shove it to the side and off the bed.

  The thump from my window turned into a feral growl. I looked. Another one? No, it was a cat, backlit from the streetlights beyond. Its back was arched, and it had the creature in its sights. It issued yet another feral caterwaul and I covered my ears; the sound was like an ice pick in my ear and made every hair on my body raise up to attention.

  The creature did not care for the sound either. After a hiss at me and a growl at the cat, it slinked away into the darkness at the far corner of the bedroom. I watched it lurking there, waiting for the cat to go away.

  My cellphone rang, and I knew now that this was what had woken me the first time. It was Sam. Grateful for the light of the LCD, I thumbed the screen to answer and almost sobbed in relief. “Sam?”

  “Melody. Are you okay? I just had the worst dream about you,” he said, his voice tight. “When you didn’t answer, I—”

  “Oh my God, Sam. There is something here.” I clutched the phone to my ear and leaned out to turn on the bedside lamp. The cat in the window yowled at me and leapt down from the sill, but I was watching the corner. The darkness hunched there. My heart in my throat, I watched the light reach that corner of the room and was stunned that all I saw there was my chair with an armload of folded laundry.

  “It was right there,” I said, disbelieving and utterly relieved at the same time. “It was there, I know it was.”

  “I believe you.”

  He stayed on the phone with me until dawn. We didn’t talk much, but neither of us could sleep. He confessed that he had left his closet light on, and I decided that might not be a bad idea for me from now on, either.

  When the rosy light started filtering in through the windows, we finally hung up, him to snatch a couple of hours of sleep before work, and me to get dressed.

  #

  I didn’t have a summer job, but it felt like I did sometimes. There were a lot of chores to be done, like weeding the herb garden, dead heading the rose bushes, general house cleaning, lawn mowing, etc. And with Matthew gone and Gramps ill, the chores fell to me and Gram. Mostly to me.

  Manual labor helped take my mind off of things, and the smell of fresh basil and tarragon soothed my terrified soul. By the time I was done with the weeds, I still had time to shower and have some toast. I felt much better, having distance and daylight between me and the events of last night.

  When I got out of the shower, the telltale scent of sage was in the air. I ducked around the corner, wrapped in my robe, and was caught by Gram in the hall.

  “Hold still,” she said, reaching toward me with the burning bundle of sage leaves. “There’s something in the air, and I mean to get rid of it. Woke up with a terrible headache and a case of the heebie-jeebies.”

  I groaned to hide my sudden anxiety over the thought of the creature in my room. “Hurry up, Gram. I have to meet Sam for coffee and I only have a few minutes.”

  She passed the smoke in front of me, wafting with her hand and directed me to hold up one arm, and then the other, so that she could pass the bundle underneath. When she finished, I obediently turned around, trying not to be impatient while she wafted smoke up and down my back.

  “You’ve got plenty of time, child,” she said and smiled, brushing past me to sage my room. “That Sam’s a nice boy. And he sure likes you.”

  Sigh. “I know, Gram. But we’re just friends. He understands.”

  She arched one artfully plucked eyebrow. “Does he, now.” She took a few steps into the room and wafted the smoke around. She turned to her right, saw the chair with the bundle of clothes, and paused for a moment, frowning. Then she wafted the smoke over the chair as well. “Be a dear and open your closet for me, so that I can get in there, too.”

  I obliged, while mulling over the fact that she had paused in front of the chair. I had always taken the saging of the house as some sort of silly ritual we all put up with to make Gram feel better, but now I had to wonder if perhaps there was something more to it, or more to the point, something more to Gram.

  14. TARA

  “Geeze,” I said, trying to absorb the whole story, “that’s crazy-scary.” I skipped a step to catch up with Melody’s stride. “Hey, slow down a little. Be kind to the vertically challenged.”

  “Sorry,” she said, absentmindedly, slowing down. “I’m just all worked up. I’m half afraid to go to bed in my own room tonight.”

  “But you said Gram saged the house, right?”

  “Yeah, she did. But I don’t really believe in that stuff.”

  “Well, you should,” I said, suddenly irritated. “The ghost of your brother knocks a photo off of your wall and some sort of old-hag-succubus thing tries to suck your soul out at the same time that Sam is dreaming about the exact same thing happening to you… Good Lord, Melody, what’s it going to take to convince you that there are things in this world that can’t be explained?”

  She didn’t say anything, and that worried me a little. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be pissy. I’m just… I d
on’t have any answers for you. I don’t know what to say either.”

  “I know. That’s why I wanted you to go see Esme with me. Because she said that thing about the journey of my soul or whatever, and now look at all the crap that has happened in the last couple of weeks. It’s freaky. And she’s the only person I can think of to ask.”

  “Besides your Gram, you mean.”

  Mel shrugged. “I’m not sure I’m ready to tell her everything that’s going on. I don’t want a lecture about messing with things I don’t understand, and I really, really don’t want her to worry about me. She’s got enough going on with Gramps being so sick.”

  “I feel ya, Ophelia.” We stopped on the sidewalk to the shop and stood idly outside the door. We were a few minutes early; Esme didn’t open until 11:00.

  Despite the fact that it was early July, the morning was unseasonably cool. Texas summers came in two flavors, hot and hotter. Luckily for us, it was raining more than usual, so the summer so far was only hot, and this morning was downright lovely. I studied the blue sky above and was irritated by the white stripes marring the perfect azure expanse. “Why do they have to do that?” I said. “Can’t they fly higher or something? Those stupid stripes are wrecking my sky.”

  Melody shrugged. “Modern technology; where would we be without airplanes? That trip to London we’re planning for after we graduate? Pretty much gotta fly if we’re going to go.”

  “I know. But still.” The lock turned on the door behind us and I saw over my shoulder Esme through the glass pane, smiling and waving for us to come in. “Sure you’re ready for this?”

  “Ready for what?”

  “Just do me a favor. Esme is a really nice lady. Try to leave your skepticism at the door. You can be as doubtful as you like later when we’re walking home, but for now, just be polite, okay?”

  Mel nodded. “I’m not new, Tara. Besides, it was me that asked to come here today.”

  I smiled. “Yes, it was. Finally.” We went inside.

  While Esme and Mel sat at the little reading table in the back, I kept an eye out for customers. Esme trusted me enough to put me behind the counter, and I was really honored. Besides, I could hear the whole conversation from there; it was going to take an act of will not to interject every other sentence. This was Mel’s tale to tell. I was just a supporting character at this point. But still, the whole experience was crazy-scary. But also cool. I didn’t want to miss a single word.

  “So your friend Sam had the dream, and he called you on the phone and you think that is what woke you?”

  “Yes. Because at that moment I remember hearing the chime for voicemail just as I realized that there was this thing sitting on my chest.”

  Esme nodded and took a sip of her tea, silver bangles chiming against the saucer as she set her cup down. “It was indeed a thing. An etheric parasite. They do not have physical bodies like you, but they can feed on your energy. The human soul is a powerful source of energy and yours is very bright.”

  “But why mine?” asked Mel, clearly dubious. “What’s so special about mine?”

  “Nothing really. Etheric parasites feed on anyone, anytime. Whenever there are strong emotions, the parasites will show up to gorge. Your thoughts are things, so are your emotions. In the ether, they are”—she pursed her lips—“they are like the wind and the sun. You can feel the wind or the heat from the sun, right? Even though you cannot see them?”

  I nodded as if I had been asked the question, entranced. I had forgotten to watch for customers as the front door chimed.

  “So even though you cannot see your thoughts or your emotions, these etheric parasites, they can. And for them it is fuel, just like sunlight is fuel for a solar cell or wind is fuel for a windmill. Do you see?” She took another sip of tea. “When you are dreaming, you are broadcasting – your wind is blowing – and these entities feel the breeze, so to speak, and find the source. That you finally awoke and saw this one, don’t be alarmed, but this was only one of dozens that have fed off of you in the past. Especially since your brother died.”

  “What do you mean, since my brother died?” Melody demanded.

  Esme paused as if considering her words. “Of course, one of the reasons is because of the anguish and pain that his disappearance has caused you. You can hide it all you like, but the emotions are still there under the surface, and they are gourmet fare to a parasite. But it’s not just anguish and pain – any intense emotion will do. Except for joy; they cannot tolerate joy. But so few people know what true joy feels like anymore, that they are susceptible all the time. Everywhere.” She paused and then leaned in close, looking first at Melody and then at me. “Everywhere,” she said again, her tone deadly serious.

  I couldn’t take it anymore. I had too many questions. “Even me?”

  “Especially people like you, Tara,” she said. “People who are energy sensitive are like a banquet – if you do not realize you are feeling other people’s emotions in an empathic way, if you do not realize you are broadcasting your emotions like a loudspeaker, you are also a victim of these creatures. This is universal – it does not matter who you are or where you come from.”

  “How can I stop it?” Melody asked, her voice strained. “I don’t ever want to go through that again.”

  “Where is the ring I gave you?”

  Melody dug the ring out of her pocket and presented it to Esme.

  “Tsk, Tsk. You should wear it on your finger. Or if you do not want to wear it on your finger, at least wear it on a string around your neck, positioned over your heart chakra, like so,” she pointed to her breast bone, between her breasts. “Where was the ring last night? Was it in the room with you?”

  Melody blushed, “No. It was in the dirty laundry. I forgot to take it out of my pocket the other day.”

  “You must keep it with you from now on. The crystal inside of it puts out a positive energy called orgone energy, it will create an area around you that is intolerable to parasites. They may try to feed on you again, but they will not stay, because the positive orgone energy is like acid to them. They cannot tolerate it.” She got up from the table and walked toward the counter.

  I moved out of the way so that she would have room to search for what she was looking for, and while she did that, I turned to help the customers who had walked up to the register. I rang up their purchase and gave them their change.

  “Here it is,” Esme said, handing a little malachite pyramid to Melody. “Keep this also on your bedside table. Malachite protects against negative entities.”

  “A pyramid?” Melody took the small green and black pyramid and squinted at it.

  “Hmm, perhaps you are right. You do not seem like a pyramid. I think you are a sphere.” Esme turned to dig in the cabinet again. Before long, she stood up, holding a small malachite sphere and handed it to Melody in exchange for the pyramid. “Same thing. Keep this next to your bed. It will help.”

  Melody took the sphere, smaller than a golf ball, and hefted it. “I can’t just keep taking things from you for free. How much is this? I’ll pay for it.”

  Esme smiled approvingly. “It is good to receive gifts, but it is better to also give back. The sphere is twenty dollars. But for you, I will take twelve, which is what I paid when I purchased it from my supplier.”

  Melody smiled and dug some money out of her pocket. “Thanks,” she said, her hand curled protectively around the sphere.

  I grinned. “Hey Esme, I don’t suppose you’re hiring someone to work the counter, are you? Because I could really use a job...”

  Her laughter rang out and I could almost feel it like the wind she was talking about. It was infectious and made me laugh, too.

  “Tara, how did you know?” She gestured at the help-wanted sign she had filled out earlier that sat idly on the counter. “Come see me tomorrow. We can work something out.”

  15. SAM

  The walk with Melody that morning had felt strained. There was not a lot to talk about withou
t rehashing the night’s events, and neither of us wanted to do that. And if I didn’t talk about that, I would end up admitting that I had an EVP recording sitting at home on my DJ rig, waiting for me to scrub it. So I didn’t want to talk about that, either. Not until I had listened to it myself and knew for sure what was or wasn’t there. Melody’d had enough shocks for now.

  I lugged another crate of fruit over to the dolly and stacked it. Four crates and I could take it into the produce section and get out of the cooler. I liked being inside during the summer, don’t get me wrong, but after a while, being stuck in the back where it’s fifty degrees or colder all the time was enough for me to crave the chance to bring in some carts from the steaming hot parking lot once in a while. But those guys sweated like pigs and probably wished they were me.

  “Hey, Sam,” said Tyler through the door. “Me and Colton are heading to Main Street after work. Want to come?”

  “Sure, as long as we hit Trader’s Village while we’re over there. I need some old tracks for samples.”

  Tyler shrugged. “It’s cool with me. Catch you after.”

  I gave him a nod and went back to trucking fruit. I had just managed to hold off listening to the recording for at least a few extra hours. Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. By the time we got back from Main Street, it would be dark out, and somehow, listening to evil ghost crap after last night was not turning me on.

  #

  Trader’s Village was the mecca of music for someone like me. They had everything, and I mean everything, from old forty-fives and eight-track tapes, to recent vinyl pressings, CDs and an MP3 vending machine. The store was arranged just the way I liked it – edgy-and-hip meets old-and-industrial. I’m not sure how they managed to take old mangled furniture and recycled gymnasium flooring and turn it into such a cool look, but the place didn’t scream lounge—it oozed it.