“I’m fine, Eleanor. It’s not like I can’t take care of myself. Why is everyone so damn concerned about where I go and what I do? It’s my afterlife and I can choose for myself how I want to live it.”
“There was another attack last night,” Eleanor said, running her hands along her cool arms. “It happened sometime in the early hours of the morning. Candice Snow, do you remember her? She was sitting just in front of us at the meeting on Friday.”
“I remember her, yes.” Clarissa didn’t add that she already knew about the attack, she’d seen the aftermath of it herself. “Is she alright?”
“It’s terrible,” Eleanor continued, her eyes staring out the storefront window. “Her sister was just killed not that long ago and here she is minding her own business, not hurting anyone and they come after her too. It’s horrific what those creatures are doing to our community.”
“But she is doing better now, right?” Clarissa hedged the question.
Eleanor nodded, her face still bleak “Leah Moon found her. I don’t know what that girl was thinking being out on the streets at night, but in this case I’m actually glad she wasn’t following the rules. The ambulance was brought in time, but that doesn’t mean she’s out the woods yet. Her throats been horribly mangled and they’re worried about infection. Leah and her mother and grandmother are staying with her at the hospital to keep her with us, but even with their combined efforts I don’t think it will be enough.”
“What has the council said about this?” Clarissa could see the worry in Eleanor. She very much liked the living woman and her death would be a tragic blow to her. “Do they have suspects in mind?”
Eleanor turned to give Clarissa a hard look. “Suspects,” she bit out harshly. “Of course they have suspects. Those animals across the bridge are the only ones capable of such an attack on us. You know that. The council has finally seen the light and they’ve found what we need to stop them, permanently.”
That bitter breath of fear stole its way up Clarissa’s spine, setting her senses on high alert. If Eleanor meant what she suspected she meant by that statement then she was sure the beautiful world she had created in her mind would collapse upon itself.
“What do you mean when you say permanently?” Clarissa asked the question, not letting Eleanor read more into it than as simple curiosity.
Eleanor’s very demeanor changed from just a moment ago, her eyes seemed to sparkle in hate, her anger overriding any compassion for the creatures that had harmed a close friend of hers. She had already made up her mind about them, as almost all of them had. Clarissa regretted her own false presumptions about the other kind. Even though the beast inside them rode hard on their senses, there was still a measure of humanity in them that let them find love and friendship. Clarissa was learning that there was more to the LeMoyne family than the savage predators that the world perceived them to be.
“The council members have found a death dealer, a bokor” Eleanor said those words like they’d found a great treasure in the ocean or a divine savior from above. Those words raced through Clarissa’s system like battery acid, leaving complete destruction in its wake.
It was ironic that the very thing she had been searching for the past few days was the last thing she wanted now. Then a thought occurred to her. Who had they found, surely it wasn’t her? No one knew, except Leah. Leah couldn’t have blabbed.
“Who,” Clarissa asked the nail-biting question. “Where did they find this person?”
“I don’t know what his name is or where they dredged him up from. Some swamp I would imagine. All that matters, though, is that we’ve got the tools to exterminate these creatures from our city. Isn’t that wonderful, Clarissa?”
No.
“Yes,” she lied. “That’s wonderful news.”
His name, she’d said, not her name. Then the council members didn’t know her secret. Then who could this male death bokor be? And why after all these years would the council members suddenly find him? Corrigan, his very existence was at stake.
She couldn’t allow him or his family to be punished for a crime she was almost certain they hadn’t committed. She’d been in their home, inside the belly of the beast, and seen inside the nature of these otherworldly creatures. No rules had been broken, at least not by them. But the council members wouldn’t see it that way.
“Clarissa, what’s the matter? Why do you have an odd look about you, your colors are changing so fast.” Eleanor made a motion to reach out and touch her, but Clarissa pulled back at the last second. “Is there something you’re not telling me?” Her expression read deep suspicion.
Clarissa stole herself from answering; she couldn’t tell Eleanor the truth. Eleanor had already made up her mind against Corrigan and his family and if she told her that she’d found her other half in a monster, she’d think she was crazy. Maybe she was crazy.
“Nothing,” Clarissa said instead. “I’m going home now. I’ll see you later, okay?”
She was out the door before Eleanor could utter a reply. Clarissa knew Eleanor was only looking out for her. She’d been so worried when she couldn’t find her at Mrs. Connors house. And at any other time, she might have been glad that someone she’d only known for a short while could already care for her that much. She was fast thinking of Eleanor as a good friend, but it didn’t make her right about the others.
Clarissa had to find a way to stop the council members from putting their dog out on the hunt for the LeMoynes. Not until she found the truth to prove them innocent or guilty of the murder crimes against the S.S. and the Eidolon community at large. But would they give her the chance to plead their case?
The terrible lump in her stomach told her they wouldn’t care one whit what she had to think.
Chapter 17-
Clarissa walked in the front door of Mrs. Connors house expecting the house to be empty. It wasn’t though. Maddy, she heard by another phone call from Leah, was spending the morning at the hospital. Leah had once again told her how crazy she was for even contemplating shacking up with a flesh-eater then letting her know that Candice was doing better. She was scheduled for surgery the following morning to piece her throat back together.
The television was on in the family room. Going through the kitchen, Clarissa found Jackson lounging on the couch eating a bowl of cereal, a ripe banana sitting atop his shaggy blonde head. Watching the morning news from a small television set in the corner of the room, he looked like he was nesting, stretched out on the sofa, books and magazines and several bags of snacks on the coffee table beside him.
Jackson gestured a non-verbal hello with his over sized spoon, his mouth too full of snack cakes to actually speak.
“What are you doing here?” Clarissa questioned him, coming into the room. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”
He shook his head, swallowing at the same time. “No,” he finally said. “Sick,” he uttered before shoveling in a spoonful of sugar coated cereal flakes.
Clarissa looked at him closely, a frown on her face. “You don’t look very sick to me. What is it that you have?”
Twisting the top off a half gallon of milk he downed half the contents in about a minute and a half. Making a satisfied swipe over his mouth he gave her a grin that more than likely made young naïve girls’ hearts flutter in their chests. “I got this fever,” he put a hand to his forehead, making a pitiful face, “And my chest feels congested. You know that commercial with the tiny green mucus people? Like that, they’re having a party in my chest.”
Clarissa wasn’t convinced. “So why are you really here?” she queried with a knowing sigh.
Jackson looked to the television, watching the news program and taking his time formulating a response. Clarissa took his silence as a clue. Finding a seat in the recliner next to the couch she waited patiently for him to come up with an answer, truth or otherwise.
“You know my grandmother is at the hospital. There was some kind of attack on an S.S. member; not sure who. But
she went to visit.” He stuffed another snack cake in his mouth.
“I know.” She was amazed he stayed so fit with the junk she was watching him stuff inside his mouth. But she guessed he didn’t eat like this all the time. “Leah called me and told me your grandmother went over there early this morning. But that still doesn’t explain why you’re here. If you’re really sick, why aren’t you home?”
Jackson reached for the bag of chips on the floor, but Clarissa was quicker stealing them away in one swift movement. He frowned at her as she sat back and opened the bag. Taking one, she popped the salty treat into her mouth.
“Stop stuffing your face and tell me what’s going on.” Clarissa took another chip into her mouth. Jackson sure had good taste in junk food, these were delicious. She was tempted to eat the whole bag herself.
“It’s nothing I can’t deal with on my own,” he muttered. Reaching for another bag on the coffee table he pulled it open, digging in to grab a handful of cheesy goodness.
They sat there for several more minutes, eating junk food and watching the news. Clarissa didn’t know this young man very well. But he was Leah’s friend and if he was struggling inside. She wanted to help, be an impartial ear.
“You have a banana on your head,” she told him around a mouthful of chips.
Taking the banana from his head he threw it across the room where it made a soft crash into the television before falling on the hardwood floor in limp silence. “I hate them so much right now.” Jackson crushed the bag in his hands, crushing the delicate puffs into tiny crumbs. “They just don’t get that I’m not like them. That I don’t want to be anything like them.”
He kicked the coffee table, coming up off the couch to prowl about the family room. Jackson stalked back and forth across the floor in front of Clarissa, for a minute not remembering she was there.
“Who are you talking about, Jackson?” she asked quietly.
He kicked the coffee table again causing it to tilt precariously on two legs for a second before settling down on all feet. It wasn’t like him to get angry, but today felt like an exception to the rule. He deserved to be pissed at the people who were supposed to profess unconditional love for their only child. However, their love came with a complimentary book of bylaws and prerequisites; rules and requirements that Jackson couldn’t live up to anymore.
Yesterday had been fine. Today everything had gone to hell.
“Those stupid jack-asses that call themselves my parents,” he barked. Turning to look down at Clarissa in the recliner, he saw one of the few people who probably understood where he was coming from. She was different too. Leah had told him about her before they’d gone out to the movies the other night, saying that the Eidolon people were keeping a close eye on her. She couldn’t go anywhere without one of them tailing her. She was an oddity they couldn’t quite figure out and in his parent’s eyes so was he.
“You know what they said to me?” She gave him one of those sympathetic head shakes. “They said they were tired of all the paranormal nonsense I’ve been letting rot my mind. They told me I should get into my head that all this is make-believe bullshit and that I need to make some real decisions about my future.”
Clarissa could see the anguish in Jackson’s face. He wanted more than anything to be an S.S. member. More than that, he wanted his parents to understand that he was different from other kids his age; that he would never be normal. His gifts were strong, like his grandmother.
Maddy had made a comment to her before, saying that Jackson’s parents preferred their own fast-paced and interesting lives over paying attention to their growing son. They loved him; they just didn’t get his eccentricities.
“I’m sorry they feel that way, Jackson. But you have to see this from their perspective. Your parents don’t get our world. If they can’t see it or analyze it under their strict parameters they’ve set for the world then it can’t possibly be real.”
“That’s not it, Clarissa.” He raked his hands through his hair. “The problem with them is that they know it’s real, they just don’t want to believe it. They think that if they ignore it all then it can’t hurt them. And God forbid that I would want to follow my crack-pot grandmother into that crazy secret society of ghost freaks.”
Jackson went to sit on the couch, his head bent over between his knees. “I see you, Clarissa,” he whispered. “I see them all. I can’t change what I see or pretend they don’t exist. I can’t just move away from it. As if going to a new town would make the specters and other supernatural creatures go away. It won’t. You people are all over the place. I won’t change into what they want me to be and I refuse to ignore what is in my blood.”
“So they want you to go away to school, hoping your grandmother’s influence will wash away over time.” He nodded. “Believe it or not, Jackson, you’re parents do love you. And can you blame them from steering you away from a society whose members are being murdered right and left?” He shook his head, no. “But they’re not right about us or you. I wouldn’t mind if you joined with the S.S. I can already see you’ve acquired some of your grandmother’s talents.”
Jackson grinned down at the floor before reaching his right hand out toward the squashed banana on the floor. It brought itself to his hand like two magnets exerting a pull on each other. He offered her the banana.
“See, that’s what I’m talking about. You can’t suppress that kind of gift. It would be wrong.” Clarissa took the banana, it wasn’t too badly damaged. Peeling away the slightly blackened skin she took a bite of it.
Jackson looked up, catching her eating the banana. She’d been so comfortable eating real food in front of him. He’d been surprised at first. The other night when she’d taken a sip of Leah’s soda he’d thought he’d been seeing things. Ghosts couldn’t interact with objects from the living world like that. It wasn’t heard of.
“Then why do you suppress yours,” he questioned, seeing it caught her off guard. Pulling the banana away from her mouth, she shrugged her shoulders. “What? You don’t know or you’re not going to tell me.”
Clarissa glanced at the television set. It made her wonder about something. “Do you think last night’s attack will be covered on the news?”
“No,” he said, following her line of vision to the tiny television set. “The councilmember’s make it a point to keep stories about us and you out of the papers and television media coverage. They likely already paid out a hefty chunk to keep the murders under wrap. There’s nothing worse for business in this town than tourists fearing for their lives from supernatural creatures.”
“I guess you’re right. The media people would turn it into some huge story on increase crime in the area. Then no one would want to vacation here.”
“And back to that whole, ‘You can’t suppress your gifts’ statement,” Jackson interjected, cleverly bringing the conversation back on point.
“You’re not going to let me out of that one, are you?” He shook his head, leaning back on the couch to watch her closely. He was a very determined young man, she thought. Sometimes that was a good quality, sometimes it didn’t work out so well.
Jackson watched as Clarissa fidgeted with her sleeve. Seeing her for the first time, he’d thought nothing of her. She’d looked like any normal ghost, rather pale almost colorless skin. They had a slightly translucent quality to their skin but they were not without substance. You couldn’t see through them, but you knew they weren’t exactly of this world.
Clarissa could be considered unassuming. That was her disguise and that was what made her deadly. They wouldn’t see her coming, because most would have already written her off as a nice looking young woman. Jackson knew better, better than most. He didn’t know what she was in the ghost world, but whatever she was called it came with a hefty toll.
“Your gifts are good. I already see that in you,” she began. “You’d never hurt anybody or let someone else be hurt by your actions.”
“And you think your gifts aren�
��t good.” He came to the conclusion easily. Clarissa was afraid of her own gifts. Somewhere deep inside she believed that there was a measure of evil, darkness.”
She shook her head in agreement. “My gifts aren’t good, not for anybody. I can hurt people. And I don’t want to do that.”
Jackson thought for a minute, putting her deadly gifts in perspective. “What if you use your gifts against those that deserved to have their lives ended? Wouldn’t that be a good gift, saving innocent lives by getting rid of the bad apples?”
“It’s not that simple.”
Jackson made a groan at that statement, rolling his head back on the couch. “Why do people always use that as an excuse to get out of dealing with their problems?”
Clarissa frowned, turning away to look at the books along the shelf next to her.
His arms spread wide he assessed this troubled young woman. Using the gifts Clarissa believed were good and helpful to the world, he delved deep inside her inner soul looking for clues to make sense of her. What he found made a mockery of his earlier assumptions about her.
Clarissa felt that probing inside her, stronger than when Richard had tried to do the same. This time she was aware what was going on and thought to simply block him out. But a secret voice inside her told her she needed to teach him not to try this method of investigation again. With her face impassive and still staring at the bookshelf, she held their connection, a line of energy binding them together. With a swift tug on her end she wrenched at his soul bringing it dangerously close to the surface.
Jackson instantly felt the pull. That feeling as if his muscles had completely relaxed and he could barely feel his extremities, a light fog seemed to coat his entire senses until he thought that he was barely holding on to his body by a thread. It was a peaceful experience, one meant for daydreaming. And he knew, having this knowing feeling, in that moment that if he let the thread pull farther away he’d never want to return.
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