The deputy nodded. “I understand. I’d feel the same way. Well, I’d best be going. Thanks for the coffee, Gloria. And you,” she said, nodding at me, “get that restraining order. Tomorrow.”
“I will.” I took my jacket off the hook by the door, which elicited surprised looks from Janet and Gloria.
“You’re staying here tonight, aren’t you?” Janet asked.
“I’d like to, but I should sleep, which I won’t do here. I’ve got to work—”
“Oh, honey.” Gloria shook her head. “I’ll get your shift covered. There’s no way you’re working in the morning. You go get a few hours of sleep and then come here and take care of Trey. Believe me, that’ll be work enough.”
I wasn’t about to argue with her. The thought of getting up in a mere few hours and trying not to fall asleep while serving breakfast and coffee was too much to contemplate. “Thanks,” I said.
“You need a ride?” Deputy Hughes asked.
“No, thanks. I’m good.” And I was. My car was parked out on the street.
It took several more minutes before I could extricate myself from the Ramsey household, as both Gloria and Janet thought it was madness that I wished to spend the rest of the night—what little there was—in “that haunted house.”
And, truth be told, I couldn’t explain to them exactly why I felt the need to return to the Ulalume Suite, other than something inside my head was telling me I must. I wanted desperately to stay with Trey and to be there when he woke up in the morning, but something compelled me to return to the Raven’s Rest.
It was nearly three in the morning when I used my key card to open the door of my room, and stepped inside. All was quiet. I arched an eyebrow and spoke to the empty room. “Coleman, are you here?” Feeling slightly silly, I tossed my keys onto the entertainment center and my jacket onto the back of a chair. Sitting down at the bottom of the bed, I took off my shoes and massaged my feet.
I hadn’t really thought I’d get any sleep, but I found myself getting drowsy, so I went into the bathroom and switched on the light, intending to brush my teeth. First I examined my lip in the mirror. It was swollen and scabbing up, but it wasn’t too bad. Certainly nothing compared to Trey’s injuries. I smiled and said to my reflection, “You’ve got to stay with him now. He’s been battered trying to defend you.”
Guilt hit me. I should be at his side. Why had I come back here? What did I hope to accomplish? What did Coleman want me to know? That he and Bryan were dead? We knew that! How they died? Where they were buried? That made sense, but how could I find out if Coleman wouldn’t tell me?
I prepared for bed and got under the covers, leaving just the light on the nightstand glowing. “Coleman,” I said aloud, “I can only stay here two more days. After that, I’ll be in my new apartment. So if you’ve got something to tell me, make it quick.”
I didn’t expect an answer, there not being the feeling that there was any supernatural presence in the room, and I didn’t get one. I switched off the light and was asleep within minutes.
I DREAMED. I dreamed I was in my bed at the Raven’s Rest, sleeping but not sleeping. Groggily, I sat up, suddenly fully awake. The room was darkened, but I could see a blue-tinted figure standing at the foot of the bed. Coleman Hollis. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. There was the name of a rock band and their logo on the shirt, but it wasn’t clear enough to make out. Rush? Led Zep? It didn’t matter. The look on his face was wistful, slightly sad but yet not unhappy. His blond hair appeared white in the milky glow surrounding him.
I sat up. “Coleman?”
Yes. His lips didn’t move, but I heard him nonetheless, as if the words were carried on a nonexistent breeze. His crooked smile grew. You’re not Bryan.
“No,” I answered, “but I’d like to help you find him.”
The figure nodded. So lonely.
“Tell me what to do.”
The blue-hued spirit seemed to frown. So difficult. But I can show you.
“I don’t understand. What’s difficult?”
Trying to tell people like this. Takes so much energy. Makes me weak. But I can show you, if you let me in.
“In? What do you mean?”
The figure moved, coming closer. Although floated would be a better description. The spirit approached me, his legs not moving at all, coming through the bed. The top of his legs just seemed to melt right into the mattress as he neared me. My left leg chilled as the ghost went through it. I hissed, feeling Coleman go right through first my foot and then my calf. He stopped, and I shifted so that no part of me was making actual contact with the spirit, who seemed oblivious to the reaction his touch produced.
He leaned over me. I need to be with you. Inside your head. Then I can show you.
I didn’t like the sound of that. “You mean possess me?”
The spirit’s sad eyes bore into me. It’s the best way. Then I can show you.
“I want to help, but that’s asking too—”
It will only be temporary. Just to show you. Please. I won’t hurt you. You’re a friend. I can tell that.
“I don’t know.”
Please. It’s the only way.
I tried to reason it out. In a strange way, I knew I was dreaming, so did it matter if I agreed? Or was Coleman actually visiting me in my dream? If I let him possess me, would I awake as myself or Coleman or a combination of the two of us?
My mind was screaming at me to say no, that this was too risky. My heart, however, was telling me that I needed to help this young man, even if he was long dead. I’d said I would. And if this was the only way to find out why he was haunting the Raven’s Rest, shouldn’t I give it a try? As long as it was only temporary? I thought of Trey, who’d gone through so much for me. Getting scratched, getting beaten. He was ready to protect me, to do whatever it took to keep me safe. Maybe Coleman needed someone to take a risk for him.
“Okay,” I whispered.
The spirit nodded and then floated closer. Suddenly he was on top of me, although there was no weight, just a massive chill that made me shudder. For a brief moment I could see his face close to mine, mere inches away. Now I could see the green of his eyes, and his long blond hair fell forward, touching my cheek like dry icicles. It almost seemed like he was about to kiss me, but then my body convulsed and I gasped as he melted into me.
At first I couldn’t even breathe. It felt like I’d jumped off the deck of the Titanic into the icy water, and the shock was intense. Slowly, warmth crept back into my bones, and I sucked in a grateful lungful of air.
My mind raced, and I saw visions. Playing superheroes with my friends as a child, a red blanket pinned onto my back as I soared across the front lawn, making whooshing noises to indicate flying. Watching cartoons in the living room in my pj’s while scooping in mouthfuls of cereal. Older, riding my bicycle through town, my buddy Scott pedaling beside me. I wondered how he would feel if I told him I had a crush on him? Older still, mowing the lawn and hoping to catch sight of the new boy next door. His name was Bryan, and he was the handsomest boy I’d ever seen.
And later, becoming friends and then more with Bryan. Our first kiss, one night out by the gazebo, with snow falling and the air crisp and clean as his breath. There were Christmas lights on nearby, not only my house but our neighbors as well. Mr. Martin’s house across the way was lit up like a beacon, and his roof was adorned with a plastic Santa on a sleigh being pulled by four plastic reindeer, which always bothered me. Didn’t everyone know there had been eight reindeer, or nine if you counted Rudolph? But I couldn’t care less about the disparity of reindeer as long as Bryan held me close, allowing me to explore his wonderful mouth with my tongue.
And later still, making love with Bryan one afternoon in my room. There was a smile on my face as I pistoned my hips into him, and he groaned with pleasure. “Oh God, I love you,” he moaned as he shot his semen onto his belly. The mere sight of the ecstasy on his face made me come as well.
Another scene,
a breakfast with my father. He had a cross look on his face, which wasn’t unusual, and I knew he was hungover from the booze he drank the night before. “I don’t like that Bryan kid,” he said, not daring to look me in the eyes. “I don’t think you should see him anymore. People say he’s a fruit.”
“Like a pear? Or a peach?” I retorted hotly, so mad my ears feel like they’re on fire. “Maybe a plum?”
“Don’t be facetious,” he growled. “You know what I mean. If you hang around with his sort, people will start to talk. They’ll start to wonder about you.”
“I don’t care if they do,” I reply.
“Well, I do! No son of mine is going to be a faggot!”
More thoughts hit me. More feelings. A funeral. My mother’s. Father was there, swaying as the minister said a few words at the grave site. Dad was drunk, not that that surprised me, or anyone else there for that matter. Ever since Mom had been diagnosed with lung cancer, the bar down the road had become his second home. Maybe his first.
And then the night he punched me because he’d seen Bryan and I kissing each other good night. We’d thought he was at the bar, but he had been sitting in the dark in the living room and had spotted us on the porch.
That was the night Bryan and I had plotted our escape.
I blinked as I sat up in bed. Visions, memories, but they weren’t my memories. They were Coleman’s. And I wasn’t dreaming. I was wide awake. The sun was coming up, the light creeping in through the gaps in the blinds. I shook my head, and the kaleidoscope of daydreams ceased. Or at least they receded. Closing my eyes tight, I swore under my breath, wondering just what the hell I’d done, what I’d allowed to happen.
Because Coleman Hollis was there, somewhere. In my mind. I could feel him.
My stomach churned, and I rushed out of bed, hoping I could reach the toilet before I threw up. I fumbled for the light switch, retching. I knew I had only seconds, not enough time to hit the toilet bowl, so I bent over the sink and gagged. I was there for what seemed like ages, splattering the porcelain with my vomit, although it was probably only seconds. My skin felt cold and clammy, and beads of perspiration dripped off my forehead.
When nothing more would come up, I stayed bent over the counter, afraid my legs wouldn’t hold me up on their own. Finally I had enough energy to turn on the taps to wash as much of my sick away as I could.
I looked up into the mirror, and for a moment it wasn’t my face reflected there. It was Coleman Hollis’s. I blinked, and the image became my own. But was there something of Coleman remaining? My own eyes were more of a hazel tint, but now they were definitely green. Just like Coleman’s.
“My God, Michael,” I asked myself, “what have you done?”
Chapter THIRTEEN
“WHY IS it that I’m the one that got the shit knocked out of me, but it’s you who looks like hell?” Trey asked.
Truth be told, neither of us was at our best, but my casualties were limited to puffy, dark eyes from very little sleep (hopefully Trey hadn’t noticed the different pigmentation) and a busted lip, while Trey had multiple cuts, plus two black eyes. I ignored his question and asked, “How are you feeling?”
He was in his bed and sat up slowly, pondering. “It’s odd,” he said at last. “I hurt in places that asshole didn’t even hit me. Like my back. It hurts like a motherfucker. And my neck. The spots that he actually hit? They’re all kind of numb still. Just dull aches.”
“Here. Lean forward.” He did so, and I sat beside him and began to massage his neck and shoulders. “Better?”
He grunted.
“Too hard?” I asked.
“No, it’s heaven. Don’t stop.”
I moved his long hair to one shoulder so I could get at his neck better. He hung his head low to stretch out the muscles. I kissed his shoulder and then continued to dig my fingers into his skin. “Let me know if I hit a sore spot.”
“They’re all sore. That bastard’s just lucky he caught me off guard.”
I smiled, thankful Trey couldn’t see me and think I was grinning at his expense. Under any circumstances, Trey wouldn’t have fared well against Kevin, but I wasn’t about to point this out. Trey was my protector and hero, no matter how ineffectual that was in practice. It still made me love him just a little bit more.
“Trey?”
“Yeah?”
Tell him. Tell him what you did. Let him know. But the words wouldn’t come out. At the moment, my mind was totally my own. There were no stray feelings or memories from Coleman in my head, but I had no idea whether they’d remain at bay. And Coleman was in there, somewhere, resting up to reveal more to me. I knew that. It felt like he was close by, like a person sitting next to you at a crowded movie theater. You knew they were there, even if they weren’t actually making contact with you. But then they shifted, and their elbow hits yours, or you knocked your hand against their sleeve.
What I did say seemed to just burst out, without much thought on my part. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”
I couldn’t see his mouth, but I sensed his grin. “Good thing,” he joked, “’cause with my face all battered, no one else is gonna want me.” He paused and then said, in a serious tone (the most serious I’d heard him use), “I’m falling for you too. Actually, fallen. But I’ve always been impulsive. Hand me my ciggies, would you?”
I grabbed the pack off his nightstand. “I thought your mom didn’t like you smoking in the house.”
“That was before I went a round with Rocky Balboa. I ain’t going outside looking like this.”
I stopped rubbing his back and put my head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” I said.
“Why? You didn’t punch me.”
“You know what I mean.”
My hand was on his other shoulder, and he reached up and patted it. Sighing, he said, “I have to admit, I’m a little scared.”
“You don’t have to be. Kevin will never touch you again. I’ll make sure of it.”
Trey snorted. “Not him! I’m not scared of that dipshit! No, I meant the other shit that’s going on. The ghosts.”
“What about them?” I asked, guilt welling inside me.
“I’m worried about you. You’re out of there on Monday, right?”
“Thereabouts. Depends on how fast I can get the furniture delivered. The lease is all signed, though.”
“The sooner the better,” Trey said. “Something tells me that you’re in danger. I don’t know exactly how, but I think you’ll be safer living somewhere other than the Raven’s Rest.”
“Funny. Jesenia Maupin said pretty much the same thing. That I was in danger there.”
Trey shrugged. “Maybe she’s not as crazy as I thought she was.” He threw back the covers and made motions as if he was getting up.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He gave me a you’re-an-idiot look. “It appears that I’m getting out of bed. My morning wood has gone down a bit, but feel free to reignite its passions if you wish. But then I’m going to take a shower, and we’re going out for breakfast.”
“It’s nearly eleven, and shouldn’t you stay in bed today and rest?”
Trey frowned. “I got punched a few times. I’m not broken. Other than a slight headache, I’m fine.” He was wearing nothing but his underwear. Black, of course. And despite his statement, the material wasn’t tented in the slightest. Not yet, anyway.
I put a restraining hand on his thigh. “Stay where you are, Trey.”
“I’m fine. Really.”
“I didn’t mean that,” I said as I gently pushed him back against his pillow while my other hand fumbled with the waistband of his boxers.
“Oh,” he replied with a smile.
“Yeah, oh.”
My mouth was full after that, so I didn’t talk much for the next few minutes.
TREY, DRESSED in his usual black T-shirt and jeans and a black leather jacket, lit up a cigarette as we approached McDonald’s, automatically slowing his pace s
o he could enjoy a sufficient amount of nicotine before we reached the entrance. In the bright light of day, his injuries didn’t look quite as bad. My own lip was still puffy but starting to heal nicely.
My other affliction, that of having a spirit inside me, was another matter. I could still feel Coleman’s presence there in my brain, resting up. It was an odd sensation, having another consciousness inside my head. I knew I should tell Trey, but to be honest, I was afraid of his reaction. When I imagined telling him, he would listen quietly and then tell me how stupid I’d been. And while I couldn’t argue with that assessment, it hit too close to home. In my scenario, Trey’s voice morphed with Kevin’s as he said, “God, Michael, I can’t believe how idiotic you can be sometimes.” I couldn’t take that.
So I kept mum.
“Good cigarette?” I asked instead.
Trey smiled as he exhaled smoke. “You don’t like me smoking, do you?”
“Of course not. It’s a nasty habit.”
He shrugged. “Maybe I can give it up sometime. Maybe.”
“I’ll wait with bated breath,” I replied with a chuckle.
He tossed the cigarette butt to the pavement and stomped on it with his boot. We went inside, and I glanced around at the patrons, half hoping that Jesenia Maupin would be among them. She wasn’t, but I knew that sooner or later I’d be seeking her out for advice.
The girl at the counter who took our order knew Trey and, concerned, asked what happened to his face. I could tell the words just came out and she was unaware how tactless her question might have been.
“Got into a fight with his ex,” Trey explained, nodding toward me. “You should see him.”
As we carried our trays to a table, I asked Trey about his last statement.
“I just said she should see him,” he said with his Mona Lisa grin. “I didn’t say he looked worse than me. Although I’m way hotter than he is. Even with the cuts and bruises.”
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