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Fragile Spirits

Page 6

by Mary Lindsey


  Vivienne’s anger shifted to amusement. “Now, isn’t this something? So, if I help you, you won’t out us, right, Stevie boy?”

  He nodded, eyes so huge the white was exposed all the way around them. “Right. Absolutely. Get it out. Make it leave me alone!”

  “And you’ll pack up and leave this woman in peace.”

  He nodded. “Yes, yes.”

  Vivienne placed her hands on her hips. “And you’ll give her all of her money back.”

  He paused, then his body trembled all over. “Floorboards,” the gravelly voice growled through his mouth.

  “Refund, Steve?” She knocked gently on the side of his head as if it were a door. “Can you hear me in there? Can you answer, or does the ghost have your tongue? Are you going to give this woman her money back?”

  “Yes!” he shouted in his own voice.

  Vivienne cupped her hand to his ear and whispered something. Steve cried out and crumpled to the floor in a heap. Obviously, she’d gotten the spirit out of his body with her words. Two of the techies ran over and crouched next to him.

  “Mrs. Nelson,” Steve said as the guys helped him to his feet. “We can’t help you with your case. We’re going to have to refund you your money.”

  “But—” the woman said.

  “Sorry.” He straightened his collar. “Pack up, guys.”

  Vivienne crooked her finger, and he came over. “You’ll pay the IC its fee anyway.”

  Steve’s face grew bright red. “I’ll do no such thing. You ruined this episode. I lost a ton of money today.”

  “You pay the IC to get rid of ghosts. Well, once things calm down around here, I’m going to get rid of it. You’ll pay for services rendered.”

  He shook his head. “No way.”

  She shrugged. “I hope you like having ghoul dude in there with you, then, because if you renege, I’m going to tell him to have at it and jump back in. You’ll be shouting about floorboards until he shoves you out and you become the ghost.”

  Steve’s eyes opened wide.

  She put her mouth right next to his ear. “Because, you see, Steve, ghosts are real. They’re not imaginary TV gimmicks to make you money. And they’re dangerous. I don’t think you’re up to playing with them. Do you?” She stepped away. “Go back to your scamming, and let the ‘chick’ handle the dead guys, okay?”

  She walked over to the homeowner on the couch. “I really want to help you get rid of this ghost, Mrs. Nelson.”

  “I-I just want to be left alone,” the woman said. “I want everyone to leave. I want to—”

  Vivienne took her hand. “I totally understand. But I can come back later after everything has calmed down.”

  The woman shot a glance at me and then turned her attention back to Vivienne. “Just you. None of these men. Only you.”

  Vivienne nodded. I stepped forward to explain that was impossible, but Vivienne silenced me with a glare.

  “Just me. Do you want me to stay and do it now?”

  She shook her head. “No. I need get out of here for a while. I’m going to go see my daughter for a few hours.”

  Vivienne grabbed a ballpoint pen out of a techie’s pocket and wrote something on the woman’s hand. “Here’s my number. You give me a call when you’re ready, and I’ll come get rid of the ghost without any lights, cameras, or action, okay?”

  The woman wiped a tear and nodded. “Thank you. I’ll call you when I’m on my way back.”

  Vivienne spun and met Steve’s eyes. “You’re going to leave now. Floorboards forever. Think about it.”

  “Pack up,” Steve ordered his crew. Vivienne grinned and strode out the front door. Somehow, even though I should have been mortified, I wanted to applaud. What a scene.

  SEVEN

  There were lots of better ways to handle that,” I said, unlocking and opening the car door for her.

  She slid in. “You mean your way. The way described in that idiotic manual.”

  “Precisely.” I closed her door and walked around the car. “There are rules,” I said, getting into the car. “We have to follow them.”

  “Or what?” she said, slumping in her seat. “What’ll they do? Kill us?”

  I snapped my seat belt buckle. “If we screw up badly enough, that’s possible.” Her jaw dropped. Good. I had her attention finally. “You need to read the manual.”

  Several guys came out carrying metal trunks full of film equipment.

  “That poor woman,” Vivienne said. “I hope she calls me. That was a pissed-off ghost, and I got it to leave that guy’s body by promising I’d clear everyone out. He was as freaked by all that activity as the woman was.”

  “What did he want?”

  “I don’t know. He kept yelling at me about floorboards. Scared the crap out of me at first.”

  She admitted fear. That was a step forward. “And then?”

  “Then, I just realized he wanted something and if we helped him, he’d be cool.”

  I put my head against the headrest and closed my eyes, concentrating on her emotions.

  “What are you doing?” she asked. “Are you sick?”

  “No. I’m feeling you.”

  She laughed, and I opened my eyes. “If that was going on, I wouldn’t ask what you were doing.”

  “You really need to read the manual. Protectors can feel Speakers’ emotions.”

  “No way!”

  “True fact.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Not so sure I like that. It’s pretty intrusive.”

  “Yeah, but it helps keep you safe. I feel your fear right when it spikes, and I’m ready to help before you can articulate it.”

  “So you know when I’m afraid.”

  I nodded. “Yep. Your tough-girl routine is pretty transparent.”

  “I am tough.” She sat back in her seat and stared out the windshield.

  “You are. Ghosts are scary. Anyone and everyone is right to experience fear when dealing with them.”

  “So, you don’t think I’m a wimp.”

  I turned the key in the ignition. “That’s the last word I’d use to describe you.”

  “What words would you use?”

  I put the car in gear and pulled out onto the dirt road. “Irritating and impulsive.”

  “That’s better than stuffy and predictable.”

  “Not if you want to stay alive. Read the manual, Vivienne.”

  “Whatever.”

  I turned around in a neighbor’s driveway and turned back out toward the highway. I reached into my console and pulled out my copy of the IC manual. “Here. Dig in.”

  She took the book, but grabbed my hand before I could pull it away. Her touch made concentration difficult. “I can read palms, you know,” she said, turning my hand palm up.

  I blinked hard and focused on the narrow dirt road.

  She chuckled.

  I almost gasped when she ran her fingers across my palm. “You have a very long lifeline, Paul. Really long, like you’ll live forever.” Her gentle touch was driving me mad.

  I pulled my hand away. “It will be a very short life if I don’t pay attention to the road.”

  “In all seriousness, you have great hands.”

  I pulled to the side of the road and stopped. “I don’t get you. You clearly can’t stand me, but then, you pull crap like this. I’m not a Ping-Pong ball you can bounce around.”

  One side of her mouth quirked up. “Well, now you’ve gone and surprised me, Mr. Predictable. The fact you speak your mind to me doesn’t jibe with how you act around the others.”

  I put the car in park. “What others?”

  “The people that were at Charles’s house last night. I thought you were weak.”

  “But you don’t now.”

  “No. I think th
ere’s a lot more to you than I originally thought.”

  Her emotions were unreadable, but she seemed sincere. A strange pinching sensation seized my chest for a moment. For the first time since I’d met her, I had a glimmer of hope this could work out.

  I put the car in gear and pulled back onto the road. “Don’t get any weird ideas.”

  “All my ideas are weird,” she said, tucking some escaped strands of hot pink hair behind her ear as she opened the IC manual to the rules section.

  We drove through a burger place on the way home and I didn’t see her after that until evening, when she came barging into Charles’s office while I wrote up our report for the morning’s fiasco.

  “The haunted woman called!”

  I set the pen down on the desk and enjoyed the excitement flowing from her.

  “She’s ready. She’s leaving her daughter’s house and wants me to come get rid of the ghost tonight.” Her smile was contagious.

  “What time do we leave?”

  “Oh, no. Not us, me only. She was adamant.”

  I closed my file. “That’s not how it works. You can’t go alone under any circumstance. It’s why pairs are designated. The Vessel can’t be unattended.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “English, please.”

  “Did you read the manual?”

  She shuffled from foot to foot. “I’m working on it. I kinda fell asleep.”

  I turned in the desk chair to face her. “There are three kinds of bodies: open, single-souled, and closed. Being a Speaker means you are an open Vessel. You can accommodate more than one soul in the same body. The Hindered know this and use your body to resolve the issues holding them here.”

  She sat on the arm of a leather wing chair. “So I don’t let it in.”

  “It’s not that simple. Sometimes they force their way. That’s where I come in. I have the ability to split my soul and put part of it in a Speaker’s body in order to shove the second soul out.”

  “So why wouldn’t it bounce into your body?”

  “I’m a closed Vessel. My body will accommodate no soul but my own. I can’t be possessed.”

  “But regular people can. I’ve seen it.”

  I nodded. “Yes, they are single-soul Vessels. The stronger soul wins after a very short time. They can’t comfortably accommodate a second soul for an extended period like you can.”

  She sighed. “Okay. So what do you suggest?”

  I was stunned she had asked my opinion. “You talk her into letting me come with you.”

  “Okay, well, she wants me to come right now, so I’ll call her from the car.”

  I grabbed my jacket from the back of the desk chair. “At your service.”

  She smiled. “I could get used to that kind of talk.”

  A strange, unfamiliar emotion bounced from her, but only for a moment. “I hope so.”

  She stood. “Why?”

  “Because I’ve wanted to do this my whole life. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.” An entirely different emotion transmitted from her. It felt like disappointment or low-level pain. I slid my jacket on. “You okay?”

  “Never been better,” she said over her shoulder as she stomped out the office door.

  When we arrived at the farmhouse, the gate was locked. I parked just outside of it and waited for Vivienne to finish her phone conversation with Mrs. Nelson, who was still insistent that she come alone.

  “I have a solution,” I said after she hung up. “I can go with you while inside your body. She won’t know I’m there, and I can prevent the ghost from possessing you that way.”

  “Can’t you just come along as a bodiless soul, like a ghost or something? Can’t we do it without the soul-sharing business?”

  “No. It’s dangerous and painful for me, and I have to get clearance ahead of time for my soul to be detached for any period of time.”

  She unbuckled her seat belt. “Or what?”

  “Or I could be discontinued.”

  “What does that mean?”

  I made a cutting sign across my throat.

  “Yeah, well, let’s not let that happen.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Okay, we’ll soul-share. Let’s get on it.”

  I started the car.

  “Wait! What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to leave my body at home, where it will be safe.”

  “Nuh-uh.” She reached over and turned the car off. “The woman is freaking out. The ghost is throwing stuff around.”

  “Well, either I come in with you, or we leave my body in a safe place and we soul-share.”

  “The locked car is safe.”

  I took a deep breath. “It’s not. There are too many variables involved. I need to leave it at home.”

  Her phone rang. “Hey, Mrs. Nelson. I’ll be there in just a minute. I really want to bring my . . .” She stared at me a moment. “My associate, Paul, with me. Yeah. The guy with me this morning.” Her eyes closed. “Okay. Just me.”

  She disconnected the call. “She’s serious about it only being me. She thought you were on Steve’s side, and she’s figured out he’s a crook.”

  I shook my head. “You can’t go in alone.”

  “Paul, please. What harm can come of it? We’re in the middle of nowhere. What could happen?”

  I shook my head. “The rules are clear.”

  “Screw the rules. That woman’s freaking out.”

  “It’s a bad idea.” Worse than bad. Terrible.

  “Look, I read enough of that book to know I’m in charge. You kind of have to do what I say when a ghost is around.” Dread filled me in a sickening wave as I realized I was about to be outmaneuvered. She put her hand on my arm. “Well, a ghost is around, and I say we leave your body here and go on in.”

  “Vivienne—”

  She withdrew her hand. “Now, Paul. As your Speaker, I’m asking you to soul-share right now in order to facilitate this resolution.”

  Shit. Straight from the book. She had read the manual. I had no choice, really. “Have you soul-shared before?”

  She shook her head, and a spike of fear came from her. “What do I do?”

  “Nothing. I do all the work.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I could give you such a hard time about that statement, you know.”

  I’m sure I blushed, but it was too dark for her to see, fortunately. “Touch me.”

  “Oh, look who’s getting weird ideas.”

  “No. Really. Soul-sharing kind of hurts at first, and contact helps.”

  She studied me with narrowed eyes.

  “I’m not kidding you. It hurts less.”

  “Pain doesn’t bug me.”

  I glared at her. “Well, it bugs me. Touch me.”

  “Why don’t you touch me?”

  “Why does everything with you have to be a challenge? The touch is consent. It has to come from you. Touch me, please, Vivienne.”

  “I love it when you beg.”

  I reached up to crank the key to start the car, and she took my hand between hers.

  “Do it, Paul.”

  This was it. My first soul-share with my Speaker. I faced front and closed my eyes. “Out,” I whispered to my soul. Beginning with my chest, a burning, ripping sensation filled my body and worked its way out to my extremities. The peculiar feeling of my soul ripping apart and breaking free of my body sort of defies words. It’s nothing that my familiar human body had experienced and is singular to the Protector. “In,” I commanded my noncorporeal form. Much faster than my soul had exited my own body, it entered Vivienne’s.

  “Ow! Son of a . . . Ow!” she gasped. “Dang, Paul.”

  It’s okay. It’s over now, I said from inside her body. I couldn’t hear her thoughts, but she could hear mine, just like
she could hear Hindered. I could feel her emotions, though, and she was as excited as I was. I felt no fear at all from her. Are you okay?

  “Whoa. Cool. You’re in my head!”

  I am. Please take my keys with us and lock the door to the car.

  She pulled the keys out. “So how much control do you have in there? Can you make my body do things like the Hindered can?”

  Someone has been reading the manual.

  “I told you I would. I just didn’t finish it.”

  No. I’m only a partial soul. A tendril of my soul is left in my body to keep it alive. Not enough to animate it, though. It takes a complete soul to animate a body. You’ve got the conn, Captain.

  She locked the car, and through her eyes, I could see my body buckled into the driver’s seat, looking like it was peacefully asleep.

  The resolution began the second Vivienne entered the house. The ghost tried to barge into her body several times without invitation, but my presence kept it out. The average Hindered waited for an invitation, but this one turned out to be a borderline Malevolent and was sick of waiting around. The good news was that he didn’t seem to be looking for revenge, which was what most Malevolents craved.

  “Floorboard!” he said for the billionth time.

  “Yeah, I’ve got that,” Vivienne said. “Which floorboard?”

  He made groaning sounds, and a lamp flew across the room, smashing against the wall and landing in pieces on the floor, causing poor Mrs. Nelson to scream yet again.

  “Now, listen to me,” Vivienne said. “What’s your name to start with?”

  “Ethan Hollister Jr.,” he wailed.

  “Does the name Ethan Hollister Jr. ring a bell?” Vivienne asked Mrs. Nelson, who was cowering in a corner.

  She shuddered. “He was the previous homeowner. He died last year. It was his wife who was murdered in this house.” She covered her face and wept.

  “No!” the ghost screamed. “Floorboard!”

  Vivienne took several steps closer to Mrs. Nelson. “How was the wife murdered?”

  “According to the articles I’ve read, her head was smashed in,” Mrs. Nelson said. “With some type of blunt object. The son is on death row, awaiting execution for the murder.”

 

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