"No, Jonah," Grandma said, her eyes pleading with him.
Derek popped in beside the desk. "I don't know what you're doing, but you're scaring me."
Jonah finally found an empty box. He set it on the desktop and opened the lid and placed his grandmother's cameo inside.
Now that he was really going to do this, he felt a twinge of guilt. He'd never been without his grandmother since that day he'd found his parents dead. But he couldn't bear the disapproval in her eyes...and he had to have Jessica.
"It'll be better this way, at least for a while." Jonah closed the box lid.
Grandma's misty translucent body separated as if sliced down the middle.
"Noooooooooooooo," Grandma cried.
Each half of her turned to a vaporous mist. One part flew into the ornament and the other into the box.
"Mrrrowwww," Sir Fluffybottom yowled. The cat jumped to the windowsill and then squeezed through the small opening between the sash and the sill to escape outside.
Taking his grandmother's ornament in hand, Jonah left the cottage and went to the cemetery tree. When he finished wiring the ornament to a branch within reach, he wheeled around to face Derek.
"You got anything more to say?"
"No." Derek raised both hands. "I'm cool."
"I thought so."
* * * * *
Special Agent Frank Jackson slid into the last booth, with his back against the wall so he had a full view of anyone entering or leaving the diner. He adjusted his suit jacket so as to keep the back from crumpling. He liked to look professional even in the oppressive summer heat.
The waitress—who would have been pretty except for the heavy eyeliner, bright red lips and purple streaks in her hair—promptly scuttled over with an order pad and pencil in hand.
"What can I get for you?" she asked.
He noted her name tag. "Key lime pie and coffee, Kerilynn."
With a broad smile, she nodded and then hurried away.
Aside from him, the only customer was a pasty, middle-aged man with his nose buried in a book. Unless she was in the back, the waitress he'd been hoping to see wasn't working tonight. Belinda Cruz seemed to be involved somehow with Jonah Morrison and since the Morrison kid was his prime and only suspect for the area serial killings, she might know something....something she might not even know she knew.
His cell phone played the Mission Impossible theme indicating an incoming call.
His mother. That would be an hour conversation, so Frank sent it to voicemail with only a slight twinge of guilt.
Kerilynn returned with his coffee and pie. "Aren't you the GBI detective investigating the Slicer murders?"
"One of them." He unrolled the napkin and placed it in his lap before taking up the fork. "I'm Special Agent Frank Jackson. We've been called in to assist the County Sheriff's Department."
The waitress placed a hand on her hip. "Well, what are y'all doing? You're taking longer than a train at a railroad crossing to find that killer."
Frank scooped a forkful of pie into his mouth. The tang of the lime and sweet sugar danced over his taste buds as he chewed. Disgruntled locals were nothing new. No Goth waitress could ruffle him in the slightest. He savored the sweet and sour bite before swallowing.
"We're doing all we can," he said in a bland tone and then took a sip of the hot, strong coffee.
"Have you looked into that Jonah Morrison?" she demanded.
Her question perked his interest and he set the mug down hard. "What makes you mention him?"
"I knew it." She stomped a foot. "He's the Slicer. I told her that boy was a bad newspaper, but she wouldn't listen to me."
"You told who? What do you know about Jonah Morrison?"
Kerilynn rolled her eyes and then pinned Frank with a glare. "I know he's probably gonna murder my friend, Belinda. 'Cause I bet you dollars to dinghies she's heading over to that cemetery to see him right now."
* * * * *
As Belinda approached the cemetery, she pulled the sweater around her. The unusually cool breeze during the height of summer somehow intensified around the cemetery. The rubber, non-skid sole of her work clogs gave away no sound despite how fast she moved. She had just entered through the gate and took a couple of steps when Jonah stormed out of the cottage and marched to the biggest tree, the one with the glowing ornaments.
His angry jerky body language startled her and she automatically darted off the path and ducked behind an upright tomb topped by a six-foot angel sculpture.
Jonah wired another glowing ornament to one of the tree's branches and rounded to stare back in the direction of the cottage. "You got anything more to say?" he shouted. "I thought so."
Who was he talking to? She'd seen him talking to himself before, but this time the habit possessed a sinister edge.
After a curt nod, Jonah stalked over to a grave. The location of that grave...was it...?
Then the sound of shoveling and more dirt joining that mound confirmed her suspicion. To get a better vantage point, Belinda crept from behind the angel tomb to another topped with a small pyramid covered in Masonic symbols. The darkness of the night obscured some detail but not the location of the mound of dirt.
The grave Jonah dug at belonged to Jessica Bundy.
* * * * *
By the time Jonah's shovel scraped wood, he'd worked up a sweat physically, but emotionally his anger had cooled. For a moment he hesitated. Above him, Derek stood at the edge of the grave, bent to stare down into it.
I can stop now. I can just rebury her. Nothing will change.
But this was the third night. Jessica's soul would no longer be earthbound after tonight. So unless he completed the ritual and bound the soul to an object and the vessel of the ornament it would be free to roam the earth as a ghost or go on to whatever lay in the next world. His opportunity would be gone.
Jonah took out his flashlight, dusted away the last of the soil and then lifted the top half of the coffin's lid.
Inside, Jessica—wearing a lacy white dress—lay still against the pale pink satin interior with her blonde curls arranged around her head. Jonah couldn't help noticing that she resembled one of those paintings of saints with the golden halo surrounding their head. Her arms were crossed over her chest, the hands delicate and relaxed with the long fingers tipped with bubble-gum pink nail polish. A soft smile curved her lips as if she were enjoying a sweet dream. A gold crucifix lay against the hollow at the base of Jessica’s neck. The serenity of her pose belied her sudden violent death.
"She looks..." Derek stuttered to a stop and then began again. "She's just as she..."
"Yeah. I thought there'd be more damage from the accident. They fixed her up perfectly."
With gentle hands, Jonah moved Jessica's head to the side so that her left cheek rested against the pillow. The back of her head, unlike her face, had suffered massive damage and had a caved in look. "Not so perfect after all."
He glanced up, but Derek was nowhere to be seen.
After setting down the flashlight, Jonah removed the diamond stud earring from Jessica's right ear. He took out his knife and held the blade against the back of the ear.
One quick slice would do it. Don't lose your nerve now.
Not too late. The thought nagged at him.
Don't be stupid. Just do it.
Almost without further conscious consideration, Jonah's hand jerked bringing the blade along the skull, peeling the ear cleanly away, just as easy as peeling an apple. After placing the ear and earring inside, he folded a handkerchief around them and placed the small bundle in the back pocket of his jeans. Once he'd carefully rearranged Jessica's head in the coffin, he closed the lid shutting her back inside before climbing out of the grave.
Derek stood with his back to the grave.
"What's the matter with you?" Jonah asked him.
Saying nothing, Derek merely shook his head.
"Whatever, man," Jonah said. He removed the bundle from his back pocket and deposit
ed the ear in the ornament and placed the earring in an open wooden box. After quickly shoveling the soil back into the grave, Jonah placed the witch ball ornament on top.
With just enough time to complete the ritual, he chanted. "Ad captandium animum."
Nothing. No sound. No movement. No rising spirit.
"Ad captandium animum. Grab the soul!"
Jonah glanced at Derek and found the ghost staring at the freshly buried grave.
"Shouldn't it have worked by now?" Derek asked.
Yes, Jonah thought, but didn't say the word aloud. I can still stop this. I—
Before the thought could complete itself, a wispy mist wafted from the grave. When it reached about five feet in height it began to whirl, finally spinning itself into a vortex.
* * * * *
Ten feet away, from behind the Masonic pyramid, Belinda watched. While Jonah worked inside the grave, she had the opportunity to sneak away, but curiosity—or a morbid fascination—anchored her to the spot. Was Jonah the psychopathic killer Kerilynn and others in town thought him to be?
Why would he be digging up Jessica Bundy? Surely, no good reason. Necro— No, she wouldn't even think about that possibility. Ughhh. She just couldn't believe that of Jonah. But what was going on?
A stream of white fog emerged as if Jessica's grave were filled with dry ice. But then, the fog began to swirl and formed into an apparition before solidifying into a pale and translucent version of Jessica Bundy. Over her chest a violet and red orb pulsed. And if one ghost was not enough, to the side and under a tree in a spot that had been vacant moments ago, Derek Devoe—or some version of him—now stood watching Jessica with a worried expression twisting his features.
Belinda stumbled back a step, clamping a hand over her mouth to keep the scream in her throat from bursting out.
* * * * *
A crack opened in the sky, but instead of the light Jonah expected, a crimson tinged glow appeared in the dark sky.
"I'm back. How nice." Jessica smiled sweetly and then looked down to examine herself. "But I'm a ghost. How very limiting."
"Something's different." Jonah glanced over his shoulder at Derek who seemed not to have heard anything. The ghost stared at Jessica as if it shocked him to see her rise.
Jessica stepped off the grave. "Aren't you going to do your little spell, Jonah?"
"What?" he asked.
"You didn't think anyone knew what you were doing out here at night, did you?"
“How?"
"Shouldn't you be chanting about how my soul is bound to the earth and some vessel? Aren't you supposed to be ordering me not to seek the light?"
Her gaze went to the sky and when she spoke her lilting voice took on a taunting tone. "But there isn't any light for me to seek. Hmmm. What should you do now?"
Jonah did the only thing he knew to do. "Your soul is bound to the earth and shall not seek the...the...afterlife."
"No." The word burst from Derek. "Don't. She’s—”
"I have to," Jonah interrupted. "If I can't bind her then I can't send her on...I think."
"You think?" Derek shouted.
Jessica laughed.
"Alligaverit anima ad hoc vas," Jonah chanted. "This soul is bound to the vessel."
The dark, pulsing orb over her chest began to separate from Jessica's ghostly body. As the separation continued, her lips opened and her eyes closed. "Ooooooo. Yes. Yes." She seemed to find the pull pleasant.
Gross.
Once the orb completely severed itself, it flew into the glass ornament as if from a slingshot. Holding his breath, Jonah jumped forward, grabbed up the ornament and shoved a stopper into the top. He only allowed another gulp of air when Jessica's body particalized. The resulting mist streamed into the earring Jonah had placed in a wooden box.
"Shit. Shit. Shit." Jonah slammed down the box's lid. The slit in the sky closed.
The dully glowing ornament and wood box sat unmoving atop the grave, but Jonah backed away from them as if they were bear traps that could spring at any moment.
Complete silence covered the cemetery—not even the faint buzz of insects could be heard—for long seconds. Silence until Derek blurted out something and Jonah couldn't process what he'd said as if Derek was speaking under water.
"What?" Jonah asked, trying to bring his rattled senses together to focus.
"Jessica Bundy killed me," Derek repeated.
Although this time he understood the words, somehow Jonah still could not quite take in their meaning. "Say again?"
"I remember now," Derek continued. "She lured me outside at the party. We started kissing and other stuff and when I... Anyway, she cut my throat." Derek skewered Jonah with a glare. "Great job, Brah. You brought back a serial killer."
Shock and then anger decimated what little control Jonah had left.
"You gotta be kidding me." Jonah stomped over to Derek. "You're blaming me? You could have remembered this vital info a little sooner, Brah.” Jonah put his hand to his head to rub the spot pounding at his temple. "This is bad. I gotta get rid of her."
"Ya think?" Derek said sarcastically. "Let's get your grandmother. She'll know how."
"Are you crazy?" Jonah asked. "I'm not letting my grandma find out this happened."
"Come on. We need help."
"I'll never hear the end of it. She's still talking about the cable bill for that pay per view I ordered six years ago."
"Yeah. My mama is the same way. But this is serious trouble. What are we going to do?"
Jonah shook his head. Serious trouble was an understatement, but he could fix this without letting his grandmother know how right she'd been. "I know how to send Jessica on. I've done it before. There's no need to disturb Grandma."
A few hesitant seconds passed in silence. Even trapped in the ornament and the box, Jessica's presence seemed ominous.
“Well then, do it!" Derek burst out. "Get rid of her."
"Okay. Okay." Jonah inched forward to the grave. He tried not to notice the tremor in his fingers as he picked up the ornament and opened the box's lid.
The two halves of the ghost streamed out and formed into the form of Jessica Bundy. "Thank you for releasing me. You won't regret it." With an eerie smirk she continued. "Wait a minute. You probably will regret it.”
As if the wood had suddenly burst into flame, Jonah dropped the box. Jessica's earring spilled out into the grass at the foot of the grave.
"Ad...ad aeterno," Jonah croaked out.
A part opened in the sky revealing a red and violet glow.
Hurry, he told himself. Send her on.
After throwing the ornament to the ground, Jonah stomped down smashing the glass. An orb floated up from the remnants and merged with Jessica's ghost, pulsing against her chest.
Jonah held his breath waiting for Jessica's ghost to be sucked into the sky.
The orb continued to pulse, like a beating heart. One. Two. Three...
Why didn't her spirit move on?
Jessica laughed. "Not quite what you expected? You thought I'd go quietly?"
"WTF, man," Derek yelled. "I thought you had this."
"Ad eterno," Jonah shouted at Jessica. "Ad eterno."
Finally, even as she continued with her cackling laughter, Jessica's body turned to mist. The mist swirled once in an eerie tornado and then funneled down into her grave and the echo of her laughter faded.
"Is that how it's supposed to go?" Derek asked.
Jonah shook his head. "They usually go up not down, but she's a murderer so perhaps...hell and all that?" In the remnants of the glass at his feet the ear had turned to ash, just as in the past. "It's fine. Jessica's gone."
As if in the aftermath of a storm, the resulting quiet encompassing the cemetery gave Jonah an intense feeling of relief. But a second later, the snap of a branch underfoot put Jonah back on alert, adrenaline shooting through his veins like a dose of crack.
Jessica's back!
He drew the knife from his back pock
et and wheeled around in one motion. Derek popped into position next to him, the two of them ready to go to war.
What he saw shocked him more than if it had been Jessica. Instead of an enemy, Belinda, in her waitress uniform, stood halfway between an upright pyramid tomb and the cemetery's gate, staring back at him with brown eyes wider than a pickpocket caught mid-pick.
Oh my God. What had she seen?
"Don't hurt me," she whispered.
Her words gutted him as no anger could have.
"Belinda." Derek moved closer to her. "She's in shock."
Belinda jumped back. "Aghhhhhhhhhh."
"She sees me now," Derek said. "Do something, Jonah."
"No! Stay away!" Shaking her head, Belinda darted toward the exit. Before Jonah could move, she made it out the gate. When she made a turn—away from the downtown and the diner—and kept running, Jonah knew he had to reach her before she got home. Somehow he had to explain what she'd seen. He didn't know how he'd do that, but something would come to him. Maybe Derek could help.
But when Derek tried to go through the gate he bounced off the invisible barrier. "You gotta get my ornament and box."
Jonah glanced over his shoulder but kept running. "No time." He'd have to go solo. This time he wouldn't let himself stutter and go mute. He'd say something...something soothing.... He'd give an explanation that wouldn't make him seem like a psychopathic loser.
"Good luck, Jonah," Derek called out.
Yeah, Good luck, me.
* * * * *
Derek gave one last push against the barrier, but it held.
Damn. His boy, Jonah, couldn't handle a woman in the best of times. What were the chances he could cope with a scared, shocked and hysterical Belinda? About as likely as a Rastafarian in rural Georgia.
As he rushed after Belinda, Jonah glanced back over his shoulder to Derek.
"Good luck, Jonah." Derek gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile. Probably came off like a sarcastic grimace.
When his friend disappeared from sight, Derek strode back to the freshly buried grave, drawn there as if by a magnet. Majorly pissed off, he glared down at the dirt.
Six feet down lay the bitch who'd murdered him. Slit his throat so wide he'd be wearing an ascot for the rest of his un-life. What had Jonah said? She died in a freak car accident?
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