Wraith

by Phaedra Weldon

  I looked at the pills, then looked at Mom. She gestured for me to take them. I got dressed in the clown suit and was glad Rhonda had brought my long trench coat.

  I rode the wheelchair out of the hospital and we piled in Mom’s car. It was pitch-black outside, being somewhere between 5:00 A.M. and 6:00 A.M., and it was damned cold. A few stars shone overhead, glitter abandoned on a black velvet cloth. The wind cut through my coat, and my teeth chattered. Once tucked inside the passenger’s side, Mom made sure I was well secured in a blanket and the seat belt snuggly fitted over me.

  I dozed on the way home, unable to keep my eyes open. I found out later those pills were Mom’s insurance I wouldn’t take an astral walk while she got me home and tucked back into bed. That was just sneaky.

  When I woke up again I was in my own bed. I was warm. Dulled sunlight streamed in through my bedroom windows through the slats of the tightly closed blinds. The house smelled of Mom’s incredible rosemary chicken. My throat felt a little better—not as scratchy or raw—and the clock on my nightstand read 4:37 P.M.

  I’d slept all day?

  Curse that woman. And now I felt all woozy when I got up. I paused, making sure I didn’t sense anything ugly and uninvited in my house. I could hear the wards, a slight humming in the back of my head, something I intended asking Rhonda about as soon as I had a shower.

  I felt greasy, and I had socks on my teeth.

  Another good toothbrushing was in order. Only when I staggered to the bathroom and flipped on the light I clapped my hands over my mouth to stifle a scream.

  The little clump of white hairs at my left temple had multiplied into a larger clump of white hairs—making them even more visible from a distance. And not just a little start at the roots—like when a dye job grows out. Hell no—the white traveled from the root all the way down to the frazzled split ends.

  Careful not to fall over in my enthusiasm to raid the cabinet under my sink, I found a coloring kit I’d bought a month or two ago when I’d seen my first gray hair (but these are white!) and proceeded to bypass the instructions and douse the errant spot with foul-smelling chemicals.

  Die you evil white hair. Grrr…

  After a hot shower and a thorough toothbrushing, I pulled on some gray sweats, a VAST tee shirt, and my bear-claw slippers before meandering into my living room. Rhonda was there, as well as Tim. Steve was busy helping Mom in the kitchen. He was solid, which meant he was able to lift small things—basically he could toss spices and set the table.

  Tim and Rhonda were at the dining table looking at—Shit. The dragon thingie was still in my house!

  “You look much better, honey.” Mom looked through the opening from the kitchen to the dining area. I could see she wore an apron around her waist. Her hair was pulled back, but several strands had pulled loose. Kinda gave her a more feminine Debbie Einstein look.

  Kinda like a crazy mom.

  I shuffled past the table and the dragon statue and she took me in her arms. I pointed to the table. “What is that doing here?”

  “Oh, you’ve got to see this, Zoë,” Rhonda called out, and I could see her motioning me over through the look-through.

  I went, cautiously, terrified that thing was going to come to life and suck me inside and I’d be strangled all over again in its bowels.

  The statue bounced just slightly, as if it had those little bugs in it like Mexican jumping beans. Only this wasn’t a cute little bug—this was a nasty evil killing ugly bitch inside of it.

  Or was that the dragon with indigestion? Hey, if I’d eaten something that ugly, I’d have stomach problems too. I wondered if it needed to go potty.

  “I guess after last night you’re glad I left this here, and activated?” She beamed at me, and looked all of twelve years old. “If it hadn’t detected that thing’s presence, you might be done for.”

  Tim was less impressed. “And if you’d have turned the ward back on when you left to get ice cream Zoë‘d never have been in danger because that thing couldn’t have gotten into this condo.”

  I sat down at the table next to Tim, my stare still riveted to the silent, slightly bouncing dragon in the center of the table. “I think it came back with me. Back along my cord. It was there in Rollins’s house, then it was hovering over me when I opened my eyes here.” I looked at each of them.

  “Zoë, tell us what happened last night. And leave nothing out.” Mom came to stand by the table. She carried a glass of juice and several white pills with her and set them in front of me. “Antibiotics.”

  Antibiotics my ass. Those little white ditties were the same things I’d taken in the hospital, and probably Mom’s insurance policy that I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. I just nodded and drank all the juice while palming the pills.

  But I did tell them everything, from the moment Rhonda dropped me off till I was being strangled on the kitchen floor.

  “That’s when I came in,” Rhonda said. “I was leading super-cop up in the elevator, and he got a call on his radio. Disturbance reported right in this building, and as we got to the door, we could hear you screaming and things being thrown about.

  “Lieutenant Frasier went into Adam-12 mode with his gun and told me to stay behind him. But while he went left I went right. I could smell that thing.” She pointed to the artifact.

  “You smelled the dragon?” I asked.

  Rhonda nodded. “Smells like sulfur. Rotten eggs. That’s when I saw it”—she nodded to the dragon—“eat that lady. I saw her legs kicking out of its mouth. And then I saw you, half-in and half-out of your body. I thought maybe you’d tried to go all Wraithy and were just too tired. Then you passed out, and I thought you’d stopped breathing.”

  Well, that was news to me. I thought I’d kept breathing the whole time. Interesting how things look from the other side of the room, isn’t it?

  “Could we not use that Wraith word?” Mom said.

  I glanced at her but didn’t comment. I kinda liked the word. Had a better ring than anything else I’d tried.

  Traveler. Wraith.

  Hrm. Wraith. Traveler sounded like an insurance company.

  “Lieutenant Frasier called an ambulance and started CPR. Didn’t take much, and you sucked in air, coughed, and that’s when you sort of sat up, out of your body. Then you went limp again. Your neck looks better.” Rhonda grinned. “Not as radical as before. Makes a great accessory.”

  Sick puppy.

  She frowned at me. “You dyed your hair.”

  Hesh up.

  I looked at each of them, Tim and Rhonda seated at the table and Mom standing. “That’s it. End of story. What’s for eats?”

  “That’s it?” Ooh—Mom sounded upset. “Zoë, I warned you not to go there. There’s no telling what that man had lurking about that house. He’s evil.”

  Well yeah. That much I understood now. I smelled the buttery aroma of Mom’s cooking and took a deep breath. My stomach growled. Maddox had said I hadn’t eaten in fifteen hours. Well, add in my sleepy time and that added up to—twenty-seven hours!

  And I wanted more juice.

  Standing, I moved past Mom and into the kitchen. Steve saw me coming and opened the refrigerator door. I pulled out the entire carton of Sunny Delight someone had bought. With a single wrench, I twisted off the cap and turned the container up and gulped down as much as I could stand before the pain of too much cold against the roof of my mouth caused the all-too-familiar ache.

  I lowered the container and put my fingers to the space in between my eyebrows. “Oh. Brain freeze.”

  “So let’s get this straight before supercop gets here,” Rhonda said, and she moved to the kitchen. Tim faded away and then reappeared beside Steve near the stove. “Visitar has something of Rollins’s that Rollins wants back—which we’re no longer assuming is porn tapes, but a document. Rollins hired this Archer, which I have to look up, whom we call Trench-Coat, to soul suck Tanaka, but instead he used a gun, which caused problems, questions. And this Mitsuri,
who’s stuck in the dragon’s belly, works for Rollins and was supposedly spying on Hirokumi.”

  I nodded. Sounded right.

  It was a good Reader’s Digest version. Bravo.

  “I wonder if there’s a way to interrogate her.” Rhonda looked closer at the sometimes-wiggling dragon.

  “So she’s inside the statue thing—I saw her being eaten.”

  “It was metaphorical, really. Just a fancy end to a spiritual vacuum cleaner.” Rhonda beamed.

  “Well, don’t get too close,” I cautioned. I was still a bit jumpy—and who wouldn’t be? After having their windpipe nearly crushed? “And find out why Rollins called TC the Archer.”

  “I will tonight. I’ll do a little more searching on this little gem.” She nodded to the dragon statue. “Nona’s going to do a bit more investigative work on the Archer as well.”

  Oh great. Mom was going to gather Miss Shultz and the rest of the geriatric Scooby gang. That could reeeeally spell trouble. As long as they didn’t douse me with pond water again and hold a gun to my head—fine by me.

  The doorbell rang. I stood. “Who…”

  “The detective, remember?” Mom smiled as she stepped closer to me. “Luckily you took a shower.”

  Steve vanished, but Tim remained in his chair. Steve’s voice came in from somewhere nearby. “Tim—we’re going home. It wouldn’t be a good idea for the nice policeman to see you.”

  “And why not? I want to see him.” The ghost gave me a wicked smile and a wink. “I’d like to see the guy that has Zoë so messed up.”

  “Tim,” Steve hissed. “Now!”

  “Oh all right.” He stuck out his tongue and vanished as well. That’s when I realized the table was already set for two on the other end. Only two.

  I sat there as Mom went to the door, and I heard Daniel’s voice. I looked up to see him come in, a bouquet of colorful, fresh-cut flowers in one hand. He was dressed nice, and casual, in a soft white cable-knit sweater and jeans. Mom took his long coat and held the flowers out to me. “Vase. Water.”

  She knew me well enough that the sight of such a good-looking man was enough to wipe my most basic brain functions. Giving me simple instructions was best.

  Mental note: daaammmnnnnn…

  He immediately came to me, his eyes wide and full of concern behind his glasses. Daniel smelled of soap and Halston. His hand was warm on my cheek. “You look better. Throat still hurt?”

  I nodded. “It will for a while.”

  “I see it’s made that voice of yours sexier than ever.”

  I blushed. And of course I heard an “Awwww” from Rhonda and Mom.

  Kill. Kill. Kill.

  Mom finished setting the table for us. There were pink-eyed purple-hull peas, pressure-cooked just under firm and salty sitting just beside the steaming rosemary chicken. Homemade mashed potatoes smashed with evaporated milk and butter. Sweet corn, crescent rolls, and fresh-made sweet tea.

  Mom had gone all out. I guess it was good that she liked Detective Frasier.

  “Miz Martinique, this looks incredible,” Daniel gushed. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was till I smelled it.”

  “You eat till you’re full, honey.” She turned to me, placed a hand on my forehead, and checked my neck. “Please—no going out. Stay home and get a bit more sleep. Take those pills I gave you that you slipped into your pocket.”

  I nodded. Rats! See? Eyes in the back of her head. I also knew what she meant by no going out. Phhhtt.

  “You’re not staying?” Daniel looked almost panicked as Rhonda and Mom gathered their coats and moved to the door. I noticed Rhonda had also taken the artifact. I wondered if it was a one-shot deal—one-spook-at-a-time thing.

  As much as I was afraid of it, I was also a bit afraid to be without it.

  I assumed Rhonda planned on studying it. Yay go her and not me.

  Mom gave me a kiss and a hug, and they left. I could only assume Mom had the physical items from her house in her purse so that Tim and Steve traveled with her.

  Well—their absence was followed by a very awkward moment between us.

  Uh…Hmmm. Jump him now or later? “Well, sit down. I’ll get ice in the glasses.”

  That seemed to break the moment. “I’ll help.”

  My kitchen isn’t very big, but it’s not small either. Two people can move fairly easily in it, as long as they suck in their guts and know what they’re doing and where things are.

  Daniel was clueless. Twice he bumped into me, but I didn’t complain. I finally had two large glasses full of ice and poured the tea. The ice clicked as it cracked when the hot liquid melted it a bit.

  But before I brought them to the table, I couldn’t help but swallow an entire glassful before replenishing it.

  I noticed Daniel watching me with a half smile, and a bit of worry. “Zoë—I’m not sure that’s normal. I mean, you drinking so much. You were downing that water this morning as if you’d not had any for a week.”

  “It’s nothing.” I brought both glasses to the table, then returned for the pitcher. I felt I was going to need it.

  “Did the doctor find anything weird about it?”

  Nope. Not a word. Might need to go in for tests though. I couldn’t bring myself to say those things out loud.

  We sat looking at the food a few seconds. The awkward thing had to go. This was my house, and I was famished. “Look, Daniel. Let’s call it now. I like you—a lot. If I wasn’t recovering from an attack, I’d jump you where you sat. But, I’m hungry. You’re hungry. Let’s dig in?”

  He grinned. “I’d jump you too.”

  Not another word was spoken for a good five minutes while we sliced and hacked at the chicken, dumped heaps of potatoes on our plates, ladled peas and corn, then covered everything with my mom’s spicy gravy.

  Then we dug in with smiles. Well, he smiled. I winced as I slowly worked food past my still-sore throat.

  “Okay—now—” Daniel said as he took a big sip of tea. “Let’s be honest here. You saw this woman leaving Rollins’s house?”

  I shook my head. “No talky about business while we eat. First up—you tell me about you. You know about me—far more than I’d ever wanted you to.”

  He knew I hinted at the rape and looked almost crestfallen. Poor widdle copper. Serves him right--shouldn’t be snooping. He took a drink of tea and cleared his throat. “Well, you know about my partner problem. Uhm let’s see. I was born just outside of New Orleans, moved to Savannah when I was twelve, and I lived there with my parents until my mom died when I turned fifteen.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “It’s okay.” He smiled. “Breast cancer. She’d been sick for a while. And I think in a way Dad was okay with it. But, I stayed there, finished high school, went into the academy and became a cop.” He looked at me. “Just like my dad.”

  “So he’s a cop in Savannah?”

  “He’s retired now. Fishes mostly. I go see him on holidays.” Daniel took up his fork and toyed with his potatoes. “Let’s see, other than fish with my dad I like to draw and paint, I tinker with motorcycles. I have one locked up in my garage I haven’t messed with in over a year. And I—” He stopped.

  I leaned in when he stopped. “You what?”

  “Oh it’s silly.”

  “No it’s not. Tell me.” Or I’ll strangle it out of you. We’re having a moment here.

  “Okay.” Daniel smiled at me. “I love old horror movies. Vampires, werewolves, Frankenstein, mummies. I have a whole collection of them, and I love to sit up late on the weekends, eat popcorn with Tabasco sauce, and watch them.”

  I frowned at him. Didn’t sound too bad, or too wiggy. “But you don’t believe in them?”

  “Monsters?” He shoved a happy mouthful of potatoes in and swallowed. After that he shook his head. “Of course not. No such thing. Ghosts and goblins. Makes a great tourist trade in Savannah. Ever been?”

  I shook my head.

  “I’ll take you s
ometime. Now, if your mom makes me more of these potatoes, I’ll tell you how I became a detective. It’s a lot shorter and more boring.”

  Huh. Didn’t believe in ghosts. Kinda a shame, ‘cause little did Mr. Detective realize he was sitting beside a Wraith. Boo!

  Bwahahaha!

  “Now, about this Mitsuri woman. You think she saw you leave Rollins’s?”

  Ah, back to business. At least I knew to ply him with potatoes to make him my slave. I nodded and poured my third glass of tea. “Sure did.” She left with me. Heh.

  Mmmm…rosemary chicken. With the ache in my throat I was glad it wasn’t barbecue.

  “I’m just not sure about this attack. Even Rhonda says she saw this woman, but she ducked around to the living room as I came in the kitchen. We’ve not found anything on her either. And Hirokumi isn’t returning my phone calls.”

  I nodded and wiped my fingers on a paper napkin. I’m sure Mom would have set out cloth ones if I’d had any. I wanted to tell him what I’d overheard, that I knew Rollins was guilty of Tanaka’s murder and that he’d hired something Rhonda and Mom thought was a Symbiont, but I also knew I didn’t want to spend the night in a padded room.

  So how did I go about helping him without coming off as a nutcase? “What kind of evidence do you need to prove Rollins killed Tanaka? Or at least hired someone to do it?”

  Daniel narrowed his eyes. “You believe he hired someone?”

  “Oh—just think about it. Rollins actually muddy his hands?” I took a nice small portion of potatoes.

  Mmmmmm…potatoes. And the potatoes didn’t hurt my throat. Yay!

  Daniel nodded, his fork poised above his plate and full of buttery fluffiness. “I think you’re right. And if so, then I’d either have to have witnesses to the exchange willing to testify. The testimony of the actual hit man. Or, some sort of proof of payment.” He sighed and lowered his fork. “I’d also have to find out who the hit man was. I can put out some feelers, do a little digging as to his or her identity.”

  I nodded, though I was sure he wasn’t going to get the answers he wanted on that one. I doubt old Trench-Coat was listed in the yellow pages.