Style and Disgrace
Page 7
“Extraordinarily horrible!” I leaned back and looked up at his face. “What do I do? Call someone? Intervene? How do I prevent what I saw from happening?”
His brows lifted. “Do you want to?”
“Of course I want to! I don’t want the person to die!”
“I was under the impression you didn’t want to use these gifts…that you wanted the life you built. If you go down this path, then it’ll be harder for you to put it behind you.”
“I’m not going to let someone die,” I said. My fists were full of his jacket, holding so tightly my wrists trembled. “I can’t do that.”
“Very well,” he muttered. “We can do something about it. What can you tell me about the people? What happened?”
I opened my mouth to respond when there was a knock at the front door. I held my breath, my eyes moving to his. His expression changed so slightly I couldn’t be sure I had seen any alteration at all. His posture stiffened and he gently pushed me away. The two of us moved to the stairs and started down.
“Go ahead and answer it.” He moved to the side of the door.
I peeked to see who was there and cursed loudly, slapping my thigh. “I can’t believe this! It’s my mom again!”
“Oh…” Ian tilted his head, perplexed. “That’s…unexpected.”
“You’re telling me. Get ready. The only stop this train bothers with is kookoo station.”
Chapter Eleven
The Returning
More advice from Abigail Wright: Never tempt fate by crossing the street against the light, make sure your friends know you’re going away before leaving the state, and always smile when you’re getting a traffic ticket. It may not get you out of having to pay, but at least you were pleasant about it. Right?
—Abby’s Facebook
My mother stepped inside, still dressed in the ridiculous suit and fur from our first encounter. I wondered if this was her new look for night-time visits to estranged daughter. It was like her to create a theme to her outfits and keep them up long after they had gone out of style.
The problem was I doubted she had ever been in style.
“What the hell, Mother?” I asked, slamming the door. “I thought we had left our conversation with me calling you and by that I mean we were never going to talk again.”
“Don’t be an idiot, dear,” Mother replied. “I remembered what it was your father wanted me to give you.”
“Really, do tell.”
She hesitated as she saw Ian, looking him up and down. “Hm, you’re rather handsome. What’s your name?”
Ian cleared his throat, but did not respond. He turned his attention to me.
“He’s none of your business, Mother.”
“This is not the man you had when I visited,” she said. “How many do you need, honey? Are you that much of a wanton you can’t be satisfied with one man?”
“That’s like King Kong pausing during his rampage to ask someone where to buy a monkey suit. Are you kidding me, Mother? You slept with so many people, it’s a miracle you have a clue who my father is!”
“No need to be crass, honey.” She walked into my kitchen. “I see it’s at least clean this time.”
“I swear to God, you’d better get to the point of why you’re here again or I’m going to throw your ass out.”
“You see, your father was an enigmatic man,” she started, speaking loudly to be heard as she wandered into my kitchen. I moved over to see what she was doing, letting my exasperation out in a loud sigh. “He liked to leave puzzles behind, you see. The fact is while I may have lost the thing he wanted me to give you, I know what it was.”
“So spit it out already!”
“In a moment.” She frowned. “Direct me to the bathroom, will you?”
“I…don’t even know what to say. Enough with the dramatic pausing! What the fuck do you want? I’m not going to play this game with you anymore. I don’t really care what he was going to give me, so if this is at all important to you, get it off your chest now. The next time you show up unannounced, I’m going to call the cops.”
“Oh very well. It was a necklace…gaudy thing. Bronze-colored, circle…it had an emerald in the center of it held together by I don’t know what. You know, your father had some terrible taste in jewelry. I have no idea why he wanted you to have it.”
“What does it matter if you lost it? You know, I think I’m going to check you into a home!”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She stepped out of the kitchen. “Now, where’s the bathroom? Unless of course you’re going to force your poor mother to pee on the floor.”
“There!” I pointed. “Don’t forget to wash your freakin’ hands.”
“Thank you, darling. You’re quite considerate.”
I watched her go into the bathroom and flopped on the couch. The events of the evening were overwhelming me. I couldn’t handle much more and I wasn’t sure I wanted to even try. I was so upset and pissed, I didn’t even notice Ian was still there. He came and sat down beside me, taking my hand gently in his.
“Abigail?”
“What? What do you want? I warned you that she’s completely out of her damn lasagna, so I don’t want to hear about how cruel I am to her.”
“That’s not the problem.” Ian cleared his throat. “I’m surprised you couldn’t tell. I mean, with your gifts coming out the way they have and all, I would’ve assumed you’d be capable…”
“Capable of what?” I asked. “What the hell are you on about?”
“Abigail, that person…that woman…she’s a ghost.”
“Wait, what?” I sat up, peering at him through narrow eyes. “What do you mean? You mean like she’s…”
He nodded. “Yes, she’s dead. That’s a spirit who has been away from this plane for at least a decade. Possibly more.”
“You’re telling me that my mother…”
“I’m afraid that, yes, your mother is dead. Whatever happened to her must’ve been powerful because spirits don’t linger around that long without compulsion. More importantly, whatever she has to tell you shouldn’t be trusted. Who knows what’s compelled her to be here?”
“But…she looks just…”
“Like you’d expect her to? That’s how ghosts work. They touch your subconscious mind and manifest themselves to your specifications. It seems you see your mother as a tacky dresser who aged somewhat poorly, has a terrible attitude, and never changed from when you were a child. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but, either way, your actual parent is gone. We have to figure out what this thing wants, why, and who sent it.”
“Well…shit.” I held my breath as I heard the toilet flush. I couldn’t help but wonder why a ghost would have to pee, even as I braced myself for what was to come. Like her or not, she had been my mother. Heartless as I felt when I thought she was alive, the gravity of her end weighed on me.
I had to focus if I was going to get through the next few minutes. Something told me I was screwed.
Thank God Ian’s here. I couldn’t do this without him.
Way to be fickle, Wright. Mom’s train might only make that one stop, but if it does, you’re the freakin’ conductor. All aboard, everyone. I have no idea what’s coming next.
About the Author
Caitlin writes a variety of genres, touching on a little bit of everything. She has done urban fantasy, historical romance, horror, and, more recently, a modern thriller. Her inspiration spawns from movies, foreign literature, and bizarre dreams. She makes the Pacific Northwest her home with her partner and three cats.
Table of Contents
Chapter OneUnwelcome Guest
Chapter TwoAttempted Violence
Chapter ThreeConfession
Chapter FourParental History
Chapter FiveThe Eternal
Chapter SixFear-Related Company
Chapter SevenPuzzles
Chapter EightUncomfortable Proposal
Chapter NineBuilding Barriers
Chapter TenShadow Victims
Chapter ElevenThe Returning
About the Author