Creep: Karma Inc. Case 4

by Gillian Zane

  Creep

  Karm Inc. Case 4

  Gillian Zane

  Contents

  Volume 1

  1. Walking Dead Girl

  2. The White Room

  3. Lethe

  4. Back to Work

  5. Now Hiring

  6. Back in Black… & White

  7. Mommy Dearest

  8. The Psychic’s In

  9. Ladies’ Rooms Secrets

  10. Side Effects May Vary

  11. Run and Hide

  12. The Twins

  13. The Saint James House

  14. Emmett James Johnson

  15. Three Reasons

  16. Reacquisitions

  17. Séance of Doom

  18. Exit Stage Left

  19. Transitions

  20. Proof Positive

  21. Experimentation

  22. The Next Case

  Thank you

  Afterword

  About the Author

  Books by Gillian Zane

  BY GILLIAN ZANE

  A PARAJUNKEE PUBLISHING eBOOK

  THIS IS AN ADVANCED READERS COPY

  CREEP. Copyright © 2017 by Gillian Zane. All rights reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Any names or characters, businesses or places, events or incidents, are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Editing by Raw Books Editing Services

  Cover Design by Parajunkee Design

  www.GillianZane.com

  gillian@gillianzane.com

  ::: created in the USA :::

  For my bookers.

  “In heaven, all the interesting people are missing.”

  Friedrich Nietzsche

  1

  Walking Dead Girl

  I knew death wasn’t the end. I was proof of that little irony. Intrinsically, I knew this, yet the concept was too immense to digest as I looked at the dead man at my feet. Everything was over. It was all over.

  He was dead. There was no coming back from this. This horrendous moment in time was world shattering for me. Pieces of my self ripped and tore in every direction. I was dying all over again, only to be reanimated and then struck down over and over again.

  My stomach rolled and I heaved with an involuntary gag. The food I had eaten earlier threatened to come roaring through my esophagus to pool at my feet. Or maybe that was happening, or had it already happened? I was having a hard time focusing on the present.

  I should be the one on the ground. The blood should be pouring out of me.

  That should be me.

  That stupid logical voice spoke up in my head; the voice of reason chastised me that I shouldn’t be reacting this way. I was acting wrong. Sure, this sucked, but it wasn’t that bad. Drake wasn’t gone. But, but…until I saw him again I was going to…I didn’t know what I was going to do. I was going to curl up and act like the little sniveling, selfish…

  “Shut-up, shut-up, shut-up!”

  My chest continued to tighten and my hands shook like leaves. My breaths came out of my mouth ragged and hitched, so loud I could filter out that idiotic fucking logically, indifferent voice. The white noise of my panic was the only sound I heard. But as I let the panic take over, it came with some serious side effects. I fell back on my ass. My knees were scuffed from kneeling next to him. My insides crumbled into tiny little pieces and my vision narrowed, joined by my other senses. Everything narrowed down to one spot. Down to him.

  I let out a sob. I tried to swallow it so it didn’t explode into a scream. My hands dug into the hot cement, the tiny gravel rocks ripping into my palms.

  I was a living dead girl, staring at a dead man.

  I would only ever be able to see him. Pieces of my world, whatever bullshit world that was my new reality, lay in splattered blood spots around me. Everything I had been pulling toward me, putting back in place, resurrecting piece by fucking piece, was now gone. I had no answers. I would have no answers, ever. I knew it wasn’t the end for him, but yet, it was, because here I stood, alone. And there he lay, dead. Nothing left. Nothing more. And no answers.

  I would never get any answers.

  There was a strange vibrating sound in the air around me. There were arms on my biceps. Someone yelling. But how could that be? I was by myself, alone. I would always be alone.

  I had a slight taste of the normal. A moment when the puzzle pieces were finally fitting together, and now it was all in ruins around me. Broken. Lost. I didn’t want to be lost again. I didn’t want to be alone. I was so fucking selfish. I was thoughtless, and impetuous, and not a good person. I deserved this because I always, always, focused on my suffering, my loneliness, my loss, when all he could do was lay there. Him. Dead.

  But he couldn’t be dead. He wasn’t dead. Was he? His life was over, this life. But I knew there was more than this life. There was Afterlife. But, no guarantees. None. What if he took limbo? Or worse?

  That couldn’t be. No. No fucking way.

  A sharp, hard and quick pain struck my cheek and then there was louder buzzing in my ears. My vision came into focus. I wasn’t where I had been. He wasn’t in my frame of vision. Someone had taken me away from him. Rough hands touched me, taking me farther away from him. I fought to get them off me. The world around me pulsed in and out of focus. I became hyper-aware of the voices around me, but then the panic rose and I saw and heard nothing but danger. I fought, but I was weak. I was powerless.

  Hard flesh wrapped around my chest. I couldn’t breathe. My frame of reference tilted and I saw the sky. Pain, real pain, flared across my back and neck. I saw spots as my head hit something hard. Flesh on me, yanking on my arms, pulling them roughly behind me and back as I was flipped and my face was pressed into the cement. Could I die again? I felt like I might. I fought, but it was useless.

  The world went still when the hands were gone and my vision shivered in response. I curled into a fetal position and the food that had threatened earlier finally came up and out. My entire body was covered in pinpricks of pain and the stench of my sickness was unbearable. My hands were scuffed raw and there was a horrible ringing noise in my ears. It was the smell that brought me back- vomit, blood, and the burnt smell of gun powder that felt so familiar to me.

  I knew I didn’t have to feel this pain. I was more than this.

  Focus. Focus, Cassandra.

  That nasty voice finally said something that helped.

  My vision slanted and sharpened, the pain faded. I sighed in relief when the pounding in my head receded. Something had been wrong with my head. I took a deep breath and took in my surroundings.

  There were boots on the ground around me, military style, cops maybe. They spoke in muted tones, but now that I was concentrating I could hear them. I sat up awkwardly because my hands were bound behind my back. My head spun so I shut my eyes and tried to breathe through the disorientation.

  “She appeared out of thin air,” a male voice said.

  “You’re insane. People don’t just appear,” another voice scoffed.

  “She was there, all of a sudden. I saw it. I’m not crazy.”

  “Impossible, you weren’t paying attention.”

  “I saw it too. She appeared out of nowhere,” a third male’s voice chimed in.

  “She fucking attacked me. She’s strong as an ox. Explain that
shit.”

  “She’s just a little girl, Hill, you better check your story. Too many fucking donuts.” I assumed the voices belonged to cops by their arguing, but their voices were harsh and ugly.

  “Look at what she did.” There was a rustle of fabric.

  “She’s distraught, that’s her boyfriend or something. You think she shot him?”

  “She showed up after. I was the first on the scene, then she shows up, right out of thin air, like I said!” The first guy’s voice had become hysterical.

  “Is that why you knocked her out and she’s cuffed with road rash all over her? Because you think she appeared out of thin air, Hill?” The voice of who I assumed was the person in charge had gotten a lot harder.

  I tried to move my hands. I was cuffed. Someone had put handcuffs on me. Had they read me my rights? Was I being arrested? What had I done? I couldn’t remember. I needed to go back to him. I needed to see where he went. If I could only put my hands on him. Maybe I could sense…

  I tried to get up on my knees, and only managed to fall back over. I wanted to stand, but it would be rather awkward with my arms behind my back. I braced myself with my shoulder and was beginning to push myself up but someone barked a sharp word at me. I looked up, making eye contact with a man in uniform. It took me a moment to place his face with his name, and his reason for existing. The Sheriff. He was staring at me angrily. I didn’t care. I didn’t give a shit about him. Because of him, and this stupid fucking town, Drake was dead. And I didn’t know if I would be able to find him again.

  Understanding centered me. Drake’s name in my mind brought me back to reality. I knew what I was. What I could do.

  I manifested out of the cuffs, got to my feet quickly and threw the cuffs at the Sheriff as he double-timed toward me, quicker to react than I expected. He was trying to talk me down, but I didn’t give a shit about what he was saying, so I ignored him. The cuffs hit him in the chest and his eyes bulged and he coughed from the impact. The deputy was yelling at me, but my ears were buzzing with adrenaline and I couldn’t make out what he was saying. The droning energy around me was overwhelming, so oppressive that I knew it was part of me. This was my energy, my manifestation. My fucking manifestation. I could manifest. I had healed myself and undid the cuffs. This was where my power was. I didn’t dare to even think it, but once it took root, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It spun around me with its own life, its own power. I could manifest Drake back to life.

  I could bring him back.

  The Sheriff’s words were beginning to break through the drone. Something about shooting me. Good luck with that. The way I felt at this moment, I could take a bullet. I could rip apart the world.

  But I knew if he shot me that would slow me down. I didn’t want to waste any more time. I needed to get back to Drake. I could bring him back.

  There were three cops around me. They were all screaming at me and blocking my path to Drake. The Sheriff had taken his gun out and was pointing it at me. I manifested his gun into a banana. I laughed. It was like a cartoon. I felt so alive. So different from how I had felt before, the powerlessness of earlier had washed away with my new found confidence.

  The Sheriff stared stupidly at his banana and the laughter burst out of me. It sounded manic even to my own ears.

  If I could manifest a gun into a banana I could manifest Drake back to life. I slowly walked to the body. The cops stepped back, fear radiating from their stances, their wide eyes, their shaking voices. The dark shape that lay on the floor called to me. The shape lying in the pool of blood. I looked down at my hands. They were covered in his blood. Drake’s blood.

  I thought…

  “Don’t you dare, Cassandra.”

  I stopped. I looked up from my hands at the still world. Everything was frozen in place. Even the birds in the sky were caught in mid flap. It was eerie, but strangely peaceful. Familiar.

  “Brandon.” I whispered his name, my throat tight and hoarse from all the screaming. Of all the people who might have shown up, the last person I expected to see was him.

  “He’s dead, Cassie. There’s no bringing him back.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “If you try, it won’t be him. It’ll be something else in his body. His soul is gone.”

  “You lie.” I looked down at Drake’s body. His eyes were closed; the dark lashes on his cheeks looked so soft. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to place my hands on him to find him. I could do that. I knew I could. I spread my fingers. Brandon grabbed my hand. I glared at him.

  “Why are you here?” I hissed.

  “To stop you,” he said softly.

  “I don’t need to be stopped.” I wanted to crumple to my knees again next to him. I wanted to touch him. I needed to touch him.

  “Yes, you do, Cassie.” He shook me and I glared at him. “This is madness, you’re better than this.”

  “I need him back.” My voice broke.

  “You can’t,” Brandon whispered.

  “Why are you here?” I asked stupidly, not understanding why, of all people, they sent Brandon. Why would he be a witness to my breakdown? Embarrassment warred with anger at the unfairness of it all.

  “I was promoted, remember? To a division called Oversight.”

  “Oversight?” I said stupidly as he began to drag me away from Drake’s body. Unlike the cop’s hands, Brandon’s hands were friendly, they were comforting. They patted and consoled and didn’t force, but I still fought him.

  “Just another level of bureaucracy.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and I stiffened.

  “I don’t want to do this anymore, Brandon.” My voice cracked under the emotion, and his arm tightened around me.

  “You don’t have many choices.” His tone was conciliatory, but the message wasn’t reassuring. It sparked anger that bubbled under the surface.

  “And, what? You’re here to force me back into line?” My tone was sharp and heated.

  “It’s my job. I’m here to bring you back.” He was so steady; I wanted to rile him up. Get him as angry as I felt. I wanted him to fight back, so I wouldn’t feel like I had this one-sided volcano brewing. I wanted the world to shatter like I was shattered. It was no fair that I was the only one who was like this.

  “That’s your job now, me?”

  “No, Oversight watches over Karma and a few other divisions. If things go wrong, we fix it. It’s not always about you, Cassie.”

  Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.

  “Sounds ridiculous,” I said instead, surprised at how calm my voice sounded.

  “It’s needed.”

  “First I’m hearing about this division.” I really didn’t know anything about Afterlife, another thing to piss me off.

  “You knew about them, just not what they were called. We’re the ones who put together the cases, who make sure manifesting is used correctly, that sort of thing,” he said it like he was the teacher and I was the good pupil. His tone was calm and a bit patronizing. Pat the little girl on the head. Be a good girl, Cassie, be quiet now. It was working too. I was becoming calmer, more focused, and my curiosity of how Afterlife worked was getting the better of my tumultuous emotions.

  “Now you tell me the secrets of Afterlife. Couldn’t you have told me any of this before, maybe when you were my boss? "My tone didn’t match his. It was shrill, the panic rising again.

  I felt a pulse of guilt for talking to Brandon this way, but I didn’t know anything about being dead and Brandon was sort of to blame for this. Was Persephone right that he didn’t communicate the things I needed to know? Was it done on purpose? Or was it just because Brandon had been bad at his job? And now he was supposed to fix this, the big mess that I was in? The mess he led me to, considering he had pointed me in the direction of Drake in the first place. If I wanted to blame someone, he was probably the best there was.

  “Not a secret. We’re the guys who make sure the operatives are working properly, getting what they need, being treated well.
That sort of thing. I didn’t know much about it either. Before…” He let the last word hang in the air.

  “That doesn’t sound like much of a promotion.”

  “I have more power.” He glanced around at the frozen world. It did look like a handy talent. If I had it I would freeze him and grab Drake and…

  What? What was I trying to do again?

  “Where is he?” I began walking back to where Drake had been before and Brandon tried to stop me. I was tired of this conversation. Tired of this life.

  “He’s in Afterlife.”

  “Then bring me to him, Brandon. If you have more power, bring me to him now!” Tears streamed down my cheeks, clogging up my eyes, pouring into my mouth, making me taste the salty desperation that licked at my mind.

  “I can’t do that, Cassie. He’s newly dead and he’s a supe…they don’t go where the humans go.”

  “What is he?” I whispered through my tears.

  “You’re crying over him like you lost your lover, but you don’t know what he is?” Brandon’s voice was cold with jealousy. I looked at him through blurry eyes, trying to muster a glare. He was right. I knew nothing about Drake, yet I was acting like his crazy widow. But just because he made sense, didn’t mean he had to know that.

  “Fuck you. Go away. Go back to your fucking oversight.”

  “I can’t do that. You’re causing some issues.” He glanced at the frozen police officers around us. The world skipped a few paces forward and he winced. “I can’t maintain this freeze for much longer. We have to go.”

  “I’m not going anywhere unless it’s to find Drake.”