by H. P. Bayne
“I think I need to give Marc a call.”
“The possession thing, huh? Think he’ll be able to help?”
“He set me up seeing that Raiya Everton lady a couple of years ago. She seemed to know a few things about it. I don’t have her number anymore.”
“Okay, but if you’re heading over there, don’t take Pax. As I recall, her place was crawling with cats. I doubt she’ll be too willing to help you out if your dog eats her pets.”
Raiya hadn’t moved, lived in the same house north of the river. A couple of her cats were looking older, but they were all there too.
Sully was uncertain about the wisdom of this visit; he would, after all, have to allow one more person into the secret of his being alive.
She solved the problem for him.
Marc told him he had called her, about to ask Sully’s questions, when she’d said, “No need to tiptoe around it, Marc. I know the boy’s alive.”
Now there was only to ask how—a question Dez had as well.
“It creeps me out she knew without anyone having to tell her,” he said as he dropped Sully off at the house. “You sure this is safe?”
“She’s safe,” Sully said. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I know.”
“Could it be you’re comfortable with her because she’s psychic too? Maybe you want her to be something she’s not.”
“That’s not it. I actually know, the way I know you’re a good person. Sometimes you get feelings about people.”
“You know I’m a good person because you grew up with me.”
“Dez, you reek of good. She does too. Relax. Go talk to Eleanor. And call me when you get back to town.”
“You’ve got money for the cab ride home?”
Sully checked. He did.
He slid out of the SUV, but realized Dez wasn’t going anywhere until he’d caught his own glimpse of Raiya—in case he saw something Sully didn’t, no doubt.
Raiya went one better.
The door opened, and she stepped from the house, encasing Sully in a quick hug before approaching Dez’s window.
“You have nothing to worry about, Desmond. Your brother is quite safe with me. You have important work to do. Best get to it. We’ll get this sorted out, Sully and I.”
Dez looked like he’d been struck, but he drove off all the same.
“He’s sure spooked about all this psychic stuff, that brother of yours,” Raiya said as she led Sully into the house.
“Always has been. In his defence, his first taste of it was when he was a kid, and he experienced it all through me. I was terrified of it myself back then. I didn’t make a very comforting guide.”
“I can understand.” Raiya led Sully into her sunroom, the one overlooking the lush back garden. Indicating one of the wicker chairs, she took another for herself. “I understand you have some questions about possession.”
“That and something else. What do you know about past lives?”
“I believe in them, if that’s what you mean. You’ve been experiencing one through your dreams, Marc told me. Not a very nice one, at that.”
“That’s one thing, yeah. Before we get into all that, can I ask you something first?”
“You want to know how I knew you were still alive.”
Sully nodded, so Raiya supplied an answer. “People like us, we see into a part of the world others can’t reach. I have several gifts. One of them is a strong ability to sense that world. You have a powerful gift, far more than you realize. When I met you, I tuned into that part of you in some depth. In a way I can’t explain in words, we connected. Your energy is unique to you, and I believe if it was snuffed out, I would know it. I felt it waver for a while, not long after we met, but it never disappeared.”
Lockwood, Sully thought. Satisfied with the answer—one that made far more sense to him than it ever would to Dez—he moved on to the reason for his coming here.
“Did Marc tell you about my dream?”
“The hanging? Yes. He said you felt the man was evil, and you’re worried that same evil runs inside you. He also told me he talked to you about soul evolution and growth.”
“Is that true?”
“Of course it is. Souls learn lessons and change the same way a repentant criminal might change his ways after going through certain programming or life experiences.”
“I think I have another ancestor named Oliver. He would have been born sometime in the mid-eighteen hundreds. He was already pretty old by the nineteen thirties. I talked to someone who knew him a little, and she had only good things to say about him.”
“Further proof of soul evolution.”
“Only if I am him. I mean, when I first went off the grid two years ago, I needed a new name and his came to me. I’m hoping that means something.”
“I can find out.”
“How?”
“I know a thing or two about hypnosis. I can take you deeper inside your consciousness, see if we can’t pull out an old memory or two. Are you comfortable with that?”
“I’m going to have to be.”
He could hear Raiya’s soft, soothing voice in the background, as if through water. But he was somewhere else, drifting back through time, past images of himself as a teenager, as a child.
He got caught up on a memory of Flynn Braddock, the way one might get snagged on a fallen tree while drifting gently down a stream.
“Keep going, Sully,” came the gentle command.
The traumas of his early childhood passed him by only through sheer force of will, and then he was in a place of shadow, a place where he had no human form.
“It’s dark,” he said.
“It’s a place of transitioning lives. Some people catch a glimpse of their time in what religious folks call Heaven. It’s rare, though. Heaven guards its secrets carefully. Tell me when you next see an image.”
Time meant nothing where he was, so there was no way to know whether seconds or minutes passed before he paused on a memory—one that didn’t belong to his current life as Sullivan Gray.
This one, he knew, was Oliver’s.
“I’m there,” he said.
“What do you see?”
“Woods. It’s dark. I’m holding a lantern. Everything hurts.”
“Are you injured?”
He focused. No, not injured. “I think it’s arthritis. I’m old.”
“How old?”
He lifted his hands. The skin was saggy, wrinkled. “At least in my seventies, I think.”
“What’s happening?”
“I’m just walking.”
“You stopped here for a reason. Tell me when something else comes to you, but no need to force it. Let it come at its own pace.”
He continued through the woods, eyes scanning the shadows until he at last saw a flicker of light a short distance ahead and to the left.
“Sadie,” he heard himself call out in a voice not his own. “Sadie, I want to help you.”
The light, which had been drifting through the trees, stopped.
“Sully?” came a voice from topside.
“I’m trying to talk to a ghost, I think.”
“All right. Let it play through. I won’t interrupt. I’ll only bring you out if you need it.”
He sank back into the vision, watched through Oliver’s eyes as he approached the light ahead. The Sully part of him found even that much fascinating, the way Sadie appeared. Sully usually saw them from the start as full-bodied apparitions. For Oliver, it was merely a light he could see, a dim blueish glow, like one of those orbs people sometimes caught while taking photos. But as he neared, the orb grew, extended, lengthened until it reached the ground. Gradually, limbs formed, then a head and, finally, features.
She looked somewhat like Nora Silversmith, a dirty, ankle-length dress covering her body while long, blonde hair partially concealed a bloody, broken face. But unlike Nora, there was nothing angry or resentful about this ghost. Only sadness.
“Your family i
s worried for you,” Oliver said. “I’ve been searching for you in the hopes you would let me help you find peace.”
She spoke, but it was impossible to read the lips, moving too fast to make out.
“I can’t hear you,” Oliver said. “If there’s something you need me or your family to know, you’ll have to show me. Sometimes spirits can touch my hand and pass along a thought that way.”
She surged forward, excitement clear. The image before him changed. Still dark woods at night, but this time he saw them through her eyes. She was with a man, someone she loved. Not the man she was intended to marry.
They embraced, kissed. She wanted it to go on like this forever, but she needed to do right by her family. She’d come here for a reason and this, as much as she loved it—loved him—wasn’t that reason.
She watched as the smile faded from his face, as the light left his eyes beneath the weight of her words. They wouldn’t be able to see each other again; she was intended to someone else, and the wedding was to be next month. She needed time to get over this love, to try as hard as she could to allow it to bloom for her to-be husband.
Ned—his name was Ned—begged her to come away with him, tugging on her hand as if to draw her away. She snatched her hand back, tears coursing down her face. This wasn’t an option. Her decision had already been made for her. She couldn’t disappoint her family. This marriage would be an immense help to her father, would ensure he and the rest of her family could live a comfortable life.
Ned’s face changed again as she spoke. The eyes were no longer dead, no longer imploring. They were furious.
The vision was silent, but the meaning of the words Ned spoke washed over Sadie, making themselves very clear. In his eyes, she’d betrayed him, had made him feel for her what he’d never felt for another woman. He loved her, adored her. His world revolved around her. Without her, he’d be nothing, and she’d be nothing without him.
Her apologies fell without impact, his rage only building as he paced, speaking of the nights she would spend in another man’s arms. They hadn’t even been together, she and Ned. He hadn’t known that pleasure. It was wrong another man would know her in that way before he had.
She saw his intention too late. She turned, tried to run. But he caught her, taking her to the cold forest floor. Turned her so she was facing him as he straddled her hips.
He reached back to tug up her skirt, and she let loose, one slap mottling his cheek in the bright moonlight, then a second. He gave up on the skirt, returned his attention to her face. Slapped her back, snapping her head to the side.
Again, he returned to her skirt. This time, she scratched him, leaving gouges in his neck that wouldn’t be easily hidden, not the way he ordinarily went around with his top buttons undone. Blood formed in the wounds, and while the sound of it was hidden to Oliver—and to Sully—his resulting howl made her blood run cold.
Too late she noticed the rock resting nearby. But he saw it, seized it.
The first blow hurt, drew a cry from her. The second left her seeing stars. After that, the impacts came furiously, too many to count, the rock colliding with her skull until, at last, darkness claimed her.
Her next image was of standing next to her own body, watching the man she loved opening her skull with that rock until, at last, he stopped. She watched as he dropped the blood-soaked rock, as he stumbled back from her, bloody hand going to his mouth as if it had only now dawned on him what he’d done.
He turned, vomited. Then he fled.
She stayed with her body for a time, long enough to see him return with breaking daylight.
He’d brought a shovel.
The vision cleared, leaving Oliver alone with the ghost in the nighttime forest.
“Do you need me to find your body?” he asked. “You can show me.”
She shook her head.
“Do you want me to see to it he faces justice for what he did to you?”
Again, a head shake.
“You didn’t deserve this, what he did to you. You were forced to choose between your family’s wishes and your own. You apparently chose well, because any man who would do such a thing was not deserving of you in the first place. Do you not see that, Sadie?”
This time no head shake, no nod. She was thinking. He’d found the answer to her lingering here.
“You are only staying, then, because of him, because you are unable to come to terms with what he did. He doesn’t deserve you, and you don’t deserve this half-life. You can find peace and comfort on the other side. I was drawn here, to you, because I can help guide you there. Let me help you, Sadie. I can offer you a doorway, but only you can open it and step through. Will you try? Not for me or for yourself, but for your family. Each time someone sees you, their hearts break all over again. From the other side, you can learn to bring them comfort, not pain.”
She turned to her right, then back to him. He couldn’t see it, the door to Summerland, but he knew it was there. A light fell across her face, casting it in a glow that returned to her the beauty she’d lost in the brutal beating.
“You will be whole again there, Sadie. No pain, no fear, no sadness. Only peace. If you look, you will probably see someone you once knew, waiting to lead you through.”
She looked, and he watched as her eyes lit with joyous recognition.
Who it was she saw, he didn’t learn. She returned her eyes to his only long enough to offer him a slow nod and a smile. Thank you.
Then she was gone.
The image disappeared, darkness replacing it until a new picture flashed into his mind.
He was back at the Triple Tree, three men awaiting their fates, nooses around their necks he’d placed there.
They were bad men, murderous highwaymen, known to leave none alive as they snared and robbed their prey. The public hanging had drawn a crowd larger than he’d seen in quite some time.
So he’d arranged for a show. It wouldn’t be the usual drop today. He’d cut the ropes extra-long, had brought in milking stools to replace the carts. When the time came, he’d kick the stools from beneath them, await the crowd’s response as the murderers danced, toes scraping dirt but unable to fully touch. Salvation less than one cruel inch away.
And when they stilled, their souls would be his. He would draw them into himself, would feel their life force flow through his veins.
His power was growing. He could feel it. Today… today would be extraordinary.
“Sully…. Come back, Sully. Listen to me. Come back.”
Sully’s eyes snapped open, revealing not a jeering crowd and three convicted killers before him but Raiya’s worried face.
“You were going someplace dark,” she said.
“Did I say something?”
“You didn’t have to. I could see it in you. You were changing. Your face, your expression, it wasn’t right. Was it Oliver?”
“I got sucked back to the time before. The hangman.” He described the vision to her.
“There had to be at least a few lives in between,” she said. “How did you end up all the way back there?”
“He’s strong. I can feel it. He’s really strong.”
“I don’t think that’s it,” she said. “Not entirely, anyway. Don’t forget, this is a past life. He is you. If he’s strong, so are you. I think it’s something else. Power like the one you possess, it’s a push-pull, a yin-yang. There is both darkness and light in everyone, and power is the same. You are inherently good, but as with everyone, there is some darkness there. Because your light is greater than most, it stands to reason your darkness will be too. This could be nothing more than a reminder you possess both.”
“So what am I supposed to do with that?”
“It might be, as your power grows, you will be called upon to choose. This is a warning, a sign of what you could become if you choose the wrong path.”
“I don’t want my power to grow. It’s bad enough already. And what if, when the time comes, I choose wrong? Or what
if I’m not given a choice? Sometimes they take me over, make me do things.”
“You can learn to control it. If there’s one lesson to be learned from the hangman, it’s that it’s possible to control your power. Bear in mind, the path of darkness is always easier. Choosing the good path doesn’t always come with instant gratification. The blessings are different, and we can’t always see them as easily. That’s why it’s much easier to take the low road. You know different. You’ve lived in a way that allows you to see what happens when a person chooses that path and stays on it. You’ve lived, Sully, and you’ve learned. Consider this hangman as another lesson, one you’ve already learned and can draw on when you need to choose.”
“That’s kind of the same thing Marc said.”
“He knows what he’s talking about.”
“So it’s true then. These people—Oliver and this hangman—they’re me, but in a different life?”
“You share the same soul,” she said. “But you’re very much your own person. Remember that.”
“He helped Sadie cross. But people talked about the legend for years after.”
“Sadie?”
“The Faceless Flo legend, the one from Hollow Road.”
“Oh, that one. I thought her name was supposed to be Florence.”
Sully told Raiya the story, how he’d discovered what he had, what Sadie’s descendants had told him, and what he’d been shown in the vision a moment ago. “If she’s been on the other side since way back then, why would people have said they’ve seen her since? I mean, the past thirty years, the ghost was someone else, but the legend was around before Nora was killed. Nora was even dressed up as Faceless Flo for Halloween.”
“You know stories,” Raiya said. “They have a way of getting blown out of proportion over time. Ghost stories are the worst that way. As you said, people were seeing Sadie’s ghost back then. That’s why Oliver ended up there, looking to help. By the time she finally left, it was too late. The myth had been born. If Oliver disappeared afterward without providing any answers, no one would have known she was at peace. People are bad for finding ways to make stories true. Movement from the corner of the eye, unexplained noises, outright lies—all of these things can keep ghost stories alive, even when there’s no truth to them. Throw in a few lost men in the woods, and you’ve got the makings of a real legend. I suspect that’s what happened here. Then when your new ghost came along, she breathed life back into it.”