The Library of the Dead

by Brian Keene

  “Why do you think she’s trying to kill you?” I said.

  He frowned at me over the lip of the mug, drained it, then said, “I didn’t say that.” Hands trembling, he brought out his wallet, fumbled out a few bills, and tossed them on the table. “Sorry, can’t stay.”

  Panic swept through me; this wasn’t going like it should. He was not supposed to leave. I reached out and gripped his wrist. The spark of contact trilled across my nerves and out of surprise, I jerked away, but my fingers refused to open. Then I saw. I knew his name was Josh, his wife’s name was Lisa-Anne, and they had two teenage boys. She didn’t look like me, nor I like her. Yet, there was an imbalance surrounding her and, on impulse, I reached deeper into the connection to find out what it was. Josh ripped his arm out of my grasp, breaking the spell.

  “I don’t know what the hell that was about,” he said. “But don’t touch me again.” Then he stomped out.

  Instead of chasing him down, the combined shock of rejection and revelations kept me seated. When I touched my previous chimeras, nothing like this had occurred. Normally, we both felt a sense of calm, a balanced serenity, and the kinship of meeting a kindred spirit. A bond to tie us together as the mortal grew old and died. As for the newfound knowledge, the Powers that Be had to be behind it. What were they trying to tell me? Why now?

  The answers lay with Josh, so I resigned myself to wishing for his hasty return.

  Hands on hips, I stood at the window and watched eddies of fog twist and swirl as people walked through it. Every so often, someone would drift in for a beer or to check the score on the football game playing on three of the ancient TV’s; the fourth broadcasted the news. Three weeks had gone by with no sign of Josh. This wasn’t right, yet there was nothing I could do but wait, as usual, or maybe I didn’t.

  Two centuries ago, I’d chosen to hang exclusively around bars, especially after I’d discovered they attracted chimeras for some unknown reason. I’d always allowed them to find me, never attempting to seek them out myself. Now I questioned why. The answer I found was pride; it made me feel wanted in the face of my exile by the Powers that Be, made me feel as if I mattered. I didn’t know if I could even locate Josh but it wouldn’t hurt to try.

  I closed my eyes, breathed in and then out, long and slow, and pushed all distractions from my mind until I was neither angelic nor demonic, a perfect balance. Recalling his face, I concentrated on going to him. Damp air pressed against me. I opened my eyes. Standing in a garden at the front of a newer suburban home, I wondered if I’d always been able to travel like this or if the Powers that Be had granted me a new ability.

  A woman’s voice floated through the open window and distracted me from my musings. Because I heard only one side of a conversation, I assumed she spoke on the phone.

  “Yes, it’s all going according to plan,” I heard her say. “No, I don’t think he suspects a thing … A week next Saturday … I can’t, sweetie …”

  Her voice began to fade as she moved deeper into the home so I leaned toward the window in an attempt to hear her better. A shadow coalesced behind the screen.

  The Mortal

  Josh wandered around the house, mumbling as he considered the pros and cons of eating dinner tonight, Mexican judging by the spicy aroma floating through the rooms. The boys were upstairs playing computer games and Lisa-Anne was on the phone with a friend. He heard the murmur of her voice as she went from the kitchen to the laundry room, but wasn’t quite able to catch the words. His meandering took him into the dim living room. Movement within the fog outside caught his attention so, curious, he crept to the window.

  The bartender from the dive bar stood in the garden. He froze. What is she doing here? How did she find out where I live? The angel and the devil offered conflicting answers, but for once he wasn’t listening. Instead, he recalled when Annalise had touched him in the bar and the sense of calm it’d brought. How it’d silenced the opposing voices and left him feeling balanced yet terrified. As if by remembering the fear, it had overwhelmed him.

  “What are you? Some creepy-ass stalker?” he said. “I don’t know how you found out where I live, but go the fuck away.”

  Annalise hopped back a step, as if in surprise, then said, “You don’t want to send me away, Josh. I know you can feel something you can’t describe that attracts me to you. A wholeness, maybe?”

  He didn’t want to admit she was right, especially since he knew he hadn’t told her his name. The alarm inside him intensified.

  “How did you know … never mind,” he said. Lisa-Anne’s heels clicked on the kitchen tile. Soon she’d walk into the living room so he said, “Go away or I’m calling the cops.”

  “You don’t want to do that,” Annalise said.

  Josh got the impression that she smirked when she replied.

  “Don’t try me,” he said, then Lisa-Anne walked into the room.

  “Who are you talking to, babe?” she said.

  Tell her, the angel whispered. Don’t, the devil said. He shifted from foot to foot, watched Annalise, and waited for his wife to notice her. She didn’t. The angel won.

  “Some deranged bartender I met a couple of weeks ago who thinks stalking customers is okay.” Instantly, he regretted saying it.

  Lisa-Anne came over to the window and peered into the fog.

  “I don’t see anyone,” she said.

  He looked at Lisa-Anne, then outside. Annalise was still there.

  “She’s right in front of the window,” he said. “You can’t miss her unless you’re blind.”

  “There’s no one there.” Lisa-Anne put her arm around Josh’s waist. “Would you like me to book an appointment with your psychologist, love?”

  You’d like to do that, wouldn’t you? Then you could admit me to the

  crazy house in place of murder.

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “If you’re sure.” She turned on her heels. “Dinner’s going to be ready soon and I’d appreciate it if you’d eat with us for once.”

  A retort came quickly to his tongue, but he clamped his lips shut before it flew out.

  When he heard her opening and closing cupboards in the kitchen, he chanced a glance outside. The woman was gone.

  Good riddance. Yet, why did he feel a twinge of disappointment?

  The Immortal

  I spent the next two days sitting at Josh’s table and contemplating whether I should go to him again. The previous experience had left me a little discombobulated. First, the conversation I’d overheard led me to believe Lisa-Anne may be trying to kill him after all. My good-natured angelic side, however, harbored a smidge of doubt. And second, he still didn’t want to be around me and I wasn’t able to understand his rejection, nor did I want to accept it. The best way to handle Josh might be the subtle approach, something at which I wasn’t proficient. The familiar tug in my gut told me that I wouldn’t need to make a decision; it had been made for me.

  Josh slunk over to the table, his sideways glance and twitch when the pool balls clacked gave him the appearance of a junkie looking for a fix. Sammie poured a pint and brought it over as he removed his overcoat. Her memory for recalling what someone drank, even if they’d been in once, always amazed me.

  He slid into the seat across from mine.

  “Now who’s being the creepy stalker,” I said in an attempt to open with humor.

  He stared into his glass as if he’d never seen bubbles and found them fascinating.

  “I didn’t know where else to go,” he said. Josh heaved a sigh then looked up.

  I blinked in rapid succession, thinking the haunted eyes peering at me from sunken pits, as well as the sharp cheekbones and pale skin, was an illusion. They weren’t. He thrust his hands at me, almost knocking over his drink in the process.

  “Do you see them?” he said. “The lines on my nails. They’re called leukonychia striata. Arsenic poisoning does that.”

  I didn’t see any lines on his fingernails so I grabbed his hand
for closer inspection. Again, images of Lisa-Anne, the boys, and the sense of imbalance swept over me, yet I still wasn’t able to capture the reason for the vision. Josh pulled his hand back, breaking the tie, and laid both palms down on the table out of my reach. When my mind stopped reeling from the mental visuals, I decided to indulge him and see where it went.

  “A slow poisoning, that’s pretty harsh,” I said.

  “Oh, she was trying, but I outwitted her by refusing to eat anything she makes.” He smiled in a way that was somewhat smug and partly lost. “She’ll have to find some other way to kill me before my fortieth birthday.” Josh stared back down at his nails.

  The chimera looked so pitiful examining his hands, as if they held the solution to his problem. I wanted to wrap my arms around his thin body and tell him everything would be okay, but wasn’t able to convince myself to touch him again; I wouldn’t be able to without physical contact, at least not until I figured out what the visions meant

  Exasperated, I slammed my hand onto the table as my skin warmed and heat rose from my demonic side in shimmery waves. The beer mug joggled and Josh snapped his head up, his face paling, and it struck me how much he resembled a skull.

  “Lisa-Anne looks at me like that when she’s angry,” he said. “Did I do something to make you mad at me?”

  The mention of Lisa-Anne and his inability to do anything about her supposed plot rankled more than my conundrum.

  “Wouldn’t it piss you off to listen to someone complaining about how his wife is trying to murder him, yet he’s doing nothing about it?” I found the solution to my problem hidden in the question. “Run away with me. Somewhere Lisa-Anne can’t find you.”

  Josh sat back with enough force to rock his chair onto two legs. For a second, I thought he’d passed the point of no return and topple backward, but the chair settled onto four legs again. He remained quiet. I knew if he agreed, I’d have what I desired—an answer to the visions and an end to my loneliness—so I pushed.

  “I know I look just like your wife. So why don’t you come with me and start new?”

  He furrowed his brow and massaged the sides of his temples while mumbling under his breath. I strained to catch what he said.

  “Is everything okay, hon?” Sammi said.

  I hadn’t noticed her approach and wished I’d had the ability to strangle her. She must have caught the negative vibe because she moved a step away from me.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” Josh said.

  “If you say so, but you don’t look fine.”

  “Really, I’m good. We’re just having an intense conversation.”

  She cocked her head, “Uh, okay? Flag me down if you need another draught.” Sammie scurried back behind the bar.

  “So?” I said. “What will it be?”

  Josh shrugged and returned to contemplating the bubbles in his ever-warming beer. My ire reached a peak. The fingernails on my demonic side blackened and the skin cracked to reveal a glowing red liquid not unlike molten lava.

  “I’m tired of this game. You can leave now,” I said while ignoring the angelic side’s urge to take back my words. “A piece of advice, though: if I were you, I’d kill her before she does it to you.”

  He flinched like I had hit him, then tossed down a few bills, grabbed his overcoat, and dashed out.

  I traced the cracked skin on my forearm and decided this chimera wasn’t worth the trouble. I didn’t care if it would be another fifty years or so before another came along. Josh’s extreme dual nature had really, really pissed me off.

  The Mortal

  Josh snuck into the house and closed the door as gently as possible. All week he’d been preoccupied with the thought of Annalise and her offer. Damn her to Hell for heaping another conundrum on me. He hung his coat, stashed his briefcase on the shelf, then left the mudroom and walked into the warm, meaty scent of roast beef. It made his mouth water and drew him to the kitchen.

  While he tiptoed down the short hallway, hoping Lisa-Anne had already gone upstairs, the inner argument continued. Should he leave with Annalise? No, said the angel. Yes, said the devil. She was Lisa-Anne’s exact replica, though, but would it be enough for him? Would he able to leave the boys or should he take them? Again, his mind offered the same yes and no answers. It was enough to drive him insane.

  Lisa-Anne was in the kitchen when he entered. He wanted to breeze right on through to the living room, but the guilty expression on her face halted his feet. She tossed something into a cupboard, slammed it shut, then smiled.

  “Hey, sweetie, I saved you some dinner,” she said. “Roast beef with all the trimmings.”

  “I ate already,” he said.

  Frowning as she started moving pots off the stove to the sink to be washed, she said, “You’re getting too thin. Come on, I’ll get your plate out of the oven and we’ll sit down and talk about what to do for your birthday Sunday while you eat. Forty. A big one.”

  He’d forgotten Sunday was his birthday. Now that she’d reminded him, he wondered if her preparing his favorite meal was to be his last. And what had she stashed in the cupboard? Kill her now. No, don’t. Then his wife gazed at him with those violet eyes of hers and all he saw was Annalise. He heard her urging him to leave with her, to begin again. It was like she offered to rewind time for him and he found the notion appealing.

  A carving knife lay on the counter. The overhead light reflected in its shiny surface, the black handle pointed toward him. Should I? For once, the two voices provided the same answer: yes. Josh grabbed it and lunged. Lisa-Anne screamed, raised her arms. The blade sliced into the flesh of her forearm. Blood splattered onto the tile floor. She pushed past him and ran.

  “Jordan! Matt! Stay in your rooms!”

  Josh heard the hysteria in her voice, but instead of bringing him to his senses, it ignited the desire to be happy again, to fall in love with Annalise the way he used to love Lisa-Anne.

  He followed the sound of her footsteps up the stairs. Red droplets sunk into the carpet and led to their bedroom. Josh tried the knob—locked—so he leaned his forehead against the door.

  “I’m sorry, sweetie,” he said, keeping his voice soft. “Open the door and we’ll talk this out.” No reply. “Maybe I should go see my psychologist in the morning.”

  Low murmurs came from the other side of the door and he knew what she’d done. Panic wound its tentacles through his innards. He rattled the doorknob as if it would magically fall unlocked. A hollow metallic sound caused him to turn around.

  “Leave Mom alone!” Matt stepped out of the den.

  The world went dark, and when the light came back, he stumbled into Gary’s. Annalise sat at the table as if waiting for him. He ambled over, sat, and slammed the knife down.

  “I did it. I killed her,” he said. He spun the knife in circles. “Why did you tell me to do it?”

  The Immortal

  “I only gave you a piece of advice,” I said. “The choice was yours.”

  Despite the copious amounts of blood stiffening Josh’s white shirt and dried splatters on his face, no one screamed or made any indication that they noticed.

  “And the boys,” he said. “My brave boys tried to protect her and now they’re gone too.” Tears poured down his cheeks, met the blood and turned pink. “You did this!”

  He picked up the knife and dove across the table to plunge the blade into my chest. Instead of stopping at the hilt, it carried right through. He scowled and tried again with the same result. Using both hands, I wrapped my fingers around his wrist, then saw everything.

  “Lisa-Anne wasn’t trying to poison you,” I said. “She was planning a surprise party for you.”

  I didn’t hear if Josh replied since the information continued to flood into me. I saw my path and why the Powers that Be had suddenly gifted me with visions and the ability to travel to a chimera. Even the reason for the imbalance I sensed in Lisa-Anne became clear.

  The disparity hadn’t come from her, but from Josh. Lisa-An
ne was good, pure, what one—if this were the Middle Ages—would call a saint. I was shown how years from now her and the boys would overcome the tragedy and band together to change a portion of the world for the better. Under her direction they’d touch many lives with their natural goodness and grace. In this, the Powers that Be let my purpose be known and it wasn’t about being accepted by one side or the other, but about balancing the light and the dark in humanity. I’d been approaching my experiences with the chimeras from a selfish angle. Stupid me.

  Lastly, I saw Josh laid out in a cardboard coffin while awaiting cremation at Chapel of the Chimes. In spite of what he’d tried to do, Lisa-Anne held his cold hand while tears dripped off her jaw.

  “And now you’re the one who’s dead,” I said.

  “No, I’m not.” He tried to pull out of my grip.

  “Unfortunately you are. When you wouldn’t stop trying to get at his mother, your eldest son shot you with the gun kept in the desk in your den.”

  Josh sagged under the weight of my words.

  “No,” he said. “I killed them.”

  “If you don’t believe me, check out the TV in the corner. The one playing the news channel.”

  We both turned to watch. A reporter stood outside Josh’s home. The volume was off, but we could read the banner on the bottom. It declared one-person shot in what appeared to be an attempted murder-suicide. A stretcher rolled past in the background and a body lay hidden under a white sheet dappled with red splotches. Lisa-Anne, her forearm bandaged, talked to an officer. The boys were nowhere in sight.

  “See?” I said.

  He nodded. Once he’d acknowledged his death, I released his wrist. Dark tendrils reached through the ether and caressed him. His body shook and crumpled in on itself at their touch, smaller and smaller until he popped out of existence. My angelic side sighed and a blue aura emanated from my pores, but to my surprise my demonic side surfaced too. With one half of me glowing blue and the other red, I found my own balance.