Dead, Undead, or Somewhere in Between

by J. A. Saare

  I loved New York in the fall.

  Sonja took two plastic baggies from her satchel. The first had little white plastic things that reminded me of the prongs you use in the board game, Life. The big fat circle on the end looked like an enormous head, while the thin rectangular shape was the body. The other baggie held three tiny pieces of wood attached to a thin red string.

  She handed out the white pieces of plastic and emptied the tiny wooden circles into her hand. “Once we activate these, we’ll be able to find one another in a given radius should the need arise. Any safeguards are better than none.”

  She handed out the pieces of wood by the red string. I took mine and studied it between my thumb and forefinger. It was made out of some kind of porous wood with a tiny clear stone embedded into one side.

  I glanced up, watched her pull the circle off her little piece of plastic, and jab her index finger. A red dot swelled, and she ran it along the charm on the opposite side of the stone. I looked at Goose, who was doing the same.

  “What exactly am I poking myself for?” I asked like the bumbling ignoramus I was.

  “Your blood activates the charm. See the stone? It will glow when you approach the person the charm belongs to—watch.” Sonja held hers out and I cupped it in my palm. The little gem shone a vivid bright blue. I let go and reached for my little piece of plastic, poking my ring finger and mimicking what I’d seen. Within seconds, my stone was glowing bright blue as well.

  “Groovy.” I nodded and smiled. “Are you making these for everyone else?”

  “It’s a form of earth magic.” Sonja barely contained her irritation at my questions, but I gave her brownie points for the effort. “Since the earth is a living, breathing thing, the charm only works with living people.”

  She shifted her attention to Goose. “Now we need to exchange them.”

  We went counterclockwise. Her to Goose. Goose to me. Me to her.

  I stuffed my charm into my pocket. I wasn’t sure if it would come in handy, but if I got into a tight spot, at least they’d know where to send the Cavalry.

  “Don’t let anything made with salt touch that,” Sonja warned. “It will nullify the spell.”

  “No sodium, got it.” I nodded, and she looked ready to explode.

  Goose placed the Sonja’s charm in a zippered pocket on his bag and said, “I think we should try to channel Jacob. I want to meet at my apartment tonight for a séance. My living room already has a circle marked, and I have all the items necessary.”

  “I can do that.” Sonja took a seat, crossing her blue jeaned legs. “The three of us should have more than enough energy to bring him around. Do you want to try to contact any of the others while we’re at it?”

  “It can’t hurt.” Goose pulled a business card from his bag and passed it to Sonja.

  She inspected it thoroughly, as if she were trying to ensure he didn’t use Kinko’s for all his printing needs. “There’s my address. Let’s all meet at say… seven?”

  “Sure,” I answered. “That will give me time to hit the gym.”

  Goose pulled the bag over his head and settled it across his body. “I’m going home. I need to call Sharon to see if she can offer any help.” He gave me a reproachful look. “Try to stay out of trouble.”

  “You know me.”

  He hustled off, carefully avoiding people in his path. I chuckled when he tripped on a non-existent something on the ground, struggling over his own feet. It was a universal law. To maintain that delicate balance someone had to excel at one thing and do piss poor in another. Since Goose had an Einstein brain, it was only fair that he have Steve Urkel-like reflexes.

  Sonja was staring at me. I couldn’t get a read on her expression. On one hand, it seemed she was genuinely interested and wanted to make nice. On the other, she seemed to hate everything I represented because I was something she didn’t understand. Maybe it was both… or maybe it was the result of eating something that didn’t agree with her that morning.

  “Joseph said you saw Baxter. Is that true?”

  “I did.” I was uncertain of where she was going with the question and that made me a little uncomfortable.

  “Was it—” Her voice faltered and her eyes seemed to brim. “Was it fast?”

  Comprehension struck swiftly. Baxter didn’t just leave a brother behind. I was hardened, but tears usually worked me over, especially when they were tears of loss. I averted my eyes, knowing that I couldn’t lie to her and realizing the truth wasn’t what she would want to hear.

  “He didn’t focus on the pain,” I admitted. “If anything, it was fast because his mind was elsewhere.”

  “Where was it?” Her breath caught, and I knew I was screwed.

  “He wanted to know where the next stop was going to be, and if he was getting a ticket to those pearly gates.” I blew out a shaky breath, and dared a cautious glance in her direction.

  “We spoke about that a lot.” She smiled sadly, eyes brimming with unshed tears. “He wanted to believe there was a heaven, even for them. But he couldn’t shake the fear of what came after if he was wrong.”

  “Then we can only hope wherever he is, he’s in a good place.”

  “No,” she breathed angrily. “We will make sure he goes to that place. When this is over, I plan on using your help to ease his soul to the other side.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I decided to call it a day. I pushed back my chair and stood, ready to leave the park and get something to eat before I went to the gym.

  “Are you so spiteful you can’t even help a lost soul find rest?” She spat the words, heavy tears spilling down her cheekbones in a warm, salty trail.

  I heard myself speaking before I could weigh the consequences. “No. If I can help ease him to the other side, I will.”

  Damn tears, they always melted me. I didn’t open another window of opportunity for her to speak, walking past the table and out of the park.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Mike’s place isn’t extravagant or exclusive, the machinery isn’t state of the art, and you won’t find a specially trained nutritionist in the building to help you count those dreaded calories. What you will find is a good place to work up a sweat, get your ass in gear, and make sure your heart and muscles pound and throb until you’re ready to drop.

  I decided to take it easy, taping up my wrists and donning the gloves to work the bag. It was a great cardio exercise and helped me focus on my form. I learned a long time ago that the bag wasn’t some simple piece of equipment that people could use to look good. If utilized properly, you could hone your strength, balance, and coordination.

  I stopped when the light outside dimmed. Retrieving my duffel from the locker room, I hit the shower. After my body was freshly scrubbed, I pulled my hair into a ponytail, creating a faux bob with wisps of hair falling loose. I tossed on my clean clothes, dressing for comfort and not ass kicking, and studied myself in the mirror.

  My mark managed to peak out from the sweater, especially with my hair off my shoulders, but was only notable if you were staring. My comfortable best was probably Sonja’s definition of slouch fest. I returned to my duffel, pulled out my makeup and slapped some on. It wasn’t a total loss. I managed to pull off the look that gives the impression you’re not trying too hard but you really don’t need to.

  “Hey, Rhiannon.” Mike motioned to me as I rounded the corner and approached the lobby.

  He was standing behind the counter, all veins, tan, and muscle. I cringed when I looked at his arms. The pronounced blue veins were super juicy and thick. He kept his hair buzzed short, and a shiny scalp showed clearly through the blackish stubble.

  “You have a hot date or something?”

  I laughed and broke into a smile. “No, it’s nothing like that. I have some work to take care of and I figured I should at least look halfway decent.”

  “Did you leave the Black Panther?” He and Cletus were tight. He probably thought he was being kept outside of the loop.


  “Nah, I’m still over there. I’m just helping out a friend.”

  “He must be some friend. You’ve been coming here what, over a year? And I’ve never seen you dressed like that.”

  “Trust me,” I snickered, even picturing Goose and me together as a couple was too much. “If you saw this guy, you’d apologize for even thinking that.”

  I hiked the duffel over my shoulder and walked outside. The sky was pink now, turning purple fast. If I hit the subway in time, I just might make it.

  “Pardon me.” A lithe, blonde woman approached me, her words eloquent and clear. “Rhiannon Murphy?”

  “Yeah.”

  She was in gym clothes, but her voice gave her away. She wasn’t here for the workout. She held herself too rigid, too uptight, and too damned uppity.

  “Hi, my name is Rachel Greene.” Her eyes were a lovely liquid brown with green centers. She seemed nervous. “Is there somewhere we might speak?”

  “That depends.” I nailed her with my no nonsense stare. “What do you want?”

  “Can we please go somewhere private?” She sounded desperate, big two-toned eyes practically pleading.

  “Listen.” I gave a fake half smile. “This is as good as it gets. If you need to talk to me, talk. I have somewhere to be, and you’re making me late.”

  “I apologize for the intrusion.” She drew her shoulders up and back, straightening her spine. “I’m a private investigator hired by Carrie Shaw.”

  “Fuck off,” I snarled. Carrie Shaw. That was one name I didn’t want to hear today. No fucking way this shit was happening to me now. I walked away.

  “Please, Ms. Murphy.” She kept pace beside me, talking quickly. “Mrs. Shaw is devastated by what happened, and she wants to make amends. She asked me to locate you. She wants to meet and express how truly sorry she is.”

  “Tell her to go see Jennifer Cunningham if she wants someone to apologize to.”

  “Ms. Cunningham is unavailable—” She stopped talking when I skidded to a halt and came face to face with her.

  “I want you to listen to me, real fucking good. You and I both know Jennifer isn’t unavailable, and I can tell you exactly where to find her. She’s been living in the Florida State Mental Hospital the last eleven years.” I was breathing heavy, body shaking. I clenched my fists, telling myself repeatedly to keep it down, keep it cool.

  “I’m aware of Ms. Cunningham’s circumstances, as is your foster Mother.” Her voice softened, attempting to come across as apologetic. She addressed me carefully. “But this is about her speaking with you. She has changed and wants to set things right. She’s been trying to contact you the last few years. All she wants is the opportunity to ask for your forgiveness.”

  “Don’t be so God damned stupid.” I bit out each word through clenched teeth. I couldn’t even smile at her shocked face, I was too hot. It took all of my restraint to keep from screaming at the top of my lungs. Stepping closer, I bumped against her retreating body. I wanted to shake the piss out of her, but I chose another route. “Did Mommy Dearest tell you about the sick things she let go down in that little Christian household of hers?”

  Her face blanked and she gave a pitiful nod. I wanted to laugh. She didn’t know. She didn’t know anything at all.

  I could remedy that.

  “No?” I shook my head and gave her a hard look. “Fuck it. I’ll tell you myself. I moved into that cesspool when I was ten-years old. Jennifer was only two-years older, but you wouldn’t know it to meet her. The first time I met the poor kid she had the eyes of an old woman, and after those first few weeks, I knew why. You see, Ray Shaw, Carrie’s husband, liked his girls young. He used to say when it sprouted hair, it was too old. That’s the kind of sick bastard I’m talking about. And he’d been enjoying time with Jennifer for a couple of years before I came into family.”

  “There is no reason for you to be crude, Ms. Murphy.” She folded her arms and looked at me with clear disdain.

  “That’s not crude.” I laughed spitefully, words laced with menace. “This is crude. Every fucking night I listened to her crying and begging in the guest bedroom, only I wasn’t the only one that heard him telling her to shut the fuck up and take it all. So did Carrie Shaw. She knew about everything, and she didn’t do shit. She sat back while her husband raped a child under her own roof, night after God damned night. Hell, the heartless bitch washed the sex stained sheets every morning.”

  “I don’t have to listen to this.” Mortified, she turned to walk away.

  I grasped her forearm. “Oh, you’ll listen,” I snarled, snaking my fingers around her skin. I reminded myself to keep it down. “You came to me, remember?” I continued without her permission. “He was in the middle of raping Jennifer the first time he let her know I was next on the menu. She was sixteen by then, and I’d just turned fourteen. I was a brand new freshman in high school, and he didn’t want someone else getting to that virgin pussy of mine before he could. Those were his words exactly.”

  “Let go of my arm,” she snapped. Her eyes were huge saucers, and her face had turned a sickly shade of white. Maybe she wasn’t aware of what had happened inside the little house on Bridge Street, but so help me God, I was going to tell her.

  “One Thursday night, he tells Jennifer, ‘tomorrow its Rhia’s turn’. He taunts her with the different ways he’s going to tear me apart, and then he pounds her so hard she can’t walk the next morning. But there was a little something Ray didn’t count on, a miniscule problem decent fathers don’t worry about contributing to directly—teenage pregnancy. Jennifer found out a week before that she was in the family way, and that’s when her brain started to slip. She went batty, hearing voices and seeing things that weren’t there, losing her shit and saying delusional things.”

  Rachel Greene had stopped struggling. She was listening now, too disgusted to turn away. It was like the train wrecks you always hear about—too much blood and carnage to stomach, but too distracting to ignore. That’s the way it worked with sick shit. You couldn’t help but watch.

  “The night he came after me was the straw that broke the camel’s back. He took me into the bedroom, stripped me bare while I fought his ass tooth and nail, and told me he was about to get a piece of tightest snatch in the world. Jennifer waited until he was distracted before she came into the room, yanked his head back by a handful of his balding hair, and slit his throat with the serrated kitchen knife we used to carve the Thanksgiving turkey. She sawed so deep she scored the bone and nearly cut his depraved head clear off. But I didn’t care. I was glad the sick bastard was dead.”

  She stood silent and unmoving, mouth slight agape.

  “Do you want to know what happened after?”

  She nodded and I smirked. Of course she did. Every good story has to have a twisted ending. “Jennifer lost it. The combination of abuse, fear, and desperation drove her to a place that no normal person could ever understand. But she loved me, in those years, we formed an unbreakable bond, and she swore she would never let anything or anyone hurt me. Too bad that mind of hers was shattered. She was so far gone she could only imagine me being sent to a house with another pervert just like Ray. So she shoved the carcass out of the way, climbed onto the bed, and told me after she killed me she would kill herself. She sunk that same blade into me five times before the police arrived. It took murder to get Carrie off her worthless ass, but by then, it was too late. Jennifer got shipped off to the loony bin, and the last time I saw her, she was so lost she couldn’t even tell you what day of the week it was.”

  I let go of her arm and stepped back, oddly deflated and empty. “Don’t come here asking me to meet with Carrie Shaw. I sure as shit will not make that bitch feel better because she decided to get a conscious after all this time and can’t sleep at night. I haven’t slept well in fifteen-years.”

  “She said it was bad, but she didn’t divulge those details.” Rachel’s eyes were huge, her oval face full of revulsion, and, I was pretty
sure, a dash of pity.

  “Why would she?” I shrugged, frustration ebbing. “She was always the kind of woman who only cared about herself. Sure, Ray beat the shit out of her, and she had to walk a fine line just like we did. But I’ll tell you this. When she discovered abuse could be dealt out elsewhere, she didn’t think twice about keeping her ass out of the line of fire. She was the adult. It was her job to protect us. She couldn’t even do that because she was too concerned about her own ass. People like that don’t change.”

  Rachel cleared her throat in an attempt to regain her professionalism. I bet she didn’t handle many cases like mine. If she did, I hoped she was royally fucking compensated.

  “What would you like me to tell her?”

  “Tell her that if she sends anyone else to find me, I won’t just come for a visit. I’ll come knocking on her front door for payback. And when I do swing by, I’ll bring Jennifer along with me.” I nodded at her and started back down the sidewalk. The sun was almost gone now and the streetlights were coming on.

  I was going to be late. Damn it to hell.

  “Wait,” Rachel called out and I stopped.

  “You said she was pregnant. What happened to the baby?”

  I chewed on my bottom lip as I idled back to where she stood. People appeared on the sidewalk, and I didn’t want to offend the general public, so I kept my voice down. “When the police arrived, there was so much blood they didn’t see the knife. They could tell by the compromising position we were in that Ray was a demented piece of shit, and they automatically assumed it was a case of self-defense. They pulled Jennifer off me, went to work on my injuries, and that gave her just enough time to bury the blade from tip to hilt inside her belly button. I’m pretty sure that took care of it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I was more than fashionably late to Goose’s soiree, and I dreaded knocking on his door. I wasn’t in the mood to be around people, my mind stuck somewhere in the sands of time.