A Guide to the Other Side

by Robert Imfeld

  Angela nodded to her, her jaw clenched. “I’ll do it.”

  And then the most wicked laughter erupted from the other woman, Rosalie, such terrible, cacophonous glee that I screwed up my eyes and pressed my hands to my ears, and suddenly the vision was gone.

  “You’re a liar!” I yelled as Angela came back into view in the parking lot. She had clearly just relived the same memory attached to the bracelet, because her legs shook violently and her heels seemed in danger of cracking in half. “You’ve got to be kidding me! You and Rosalie plotted against Alfred? She got you to marry him so that you could steal the money from his children?”

  “It’s not like that!” Angela said, tears streaming down her face. “I was broke, and Rosalie found me and took me under her wing.” She wiped away the tears with both hands, her eyes pleading with me. “She got me back on my feet, and then . . . she asked for a favor.”

  I shook my head. “You are a horrible person. No wonder Alfred’s been haunting me.”

  “No!” she cried. “There’s more to it. Once I got to know Alfred, everything changed. He was sweet to me, and he cared about me, and I took care of him.”

  “No you didn’t,” I spit. “You put him in a nursing home and told his kids he lived at home!”

  “He told me to!” she said, her voice rasping. “He was getting sick in the head, and he didn’t want to be a burden. He really loved me.” She swallowed hard. “At least, I thought he did. The day he died, a note showed up in my room.”

  “What did it say?”

  She reached into her purse as tears dripped down her nose and onto the pavement. She pulled out an envelope and handed it to me. “I carry it with me everywhere.”

  On the crinkled front of the envelope Alfred had written “Angie” in neat cursive.

  I pulled out the letter, unfolded it, and scanned the page.

  Angie,

  We met tonight for the first time, and I plan on marrying you. Why? Because I know Rosalie put you up to this, and since I’m so old and you’re so pretty, I thought, why not have some fun in my final years? I know Rosalie is after my money, and the old bag is dim enough to think she can outsmart me. My kids each have a secret trust they’ll gain access to when they’re 30. I want them to work hard and live normal lives until then.

  As for the rest of my money, you can have it. I’ve learned a lot about you and know you need it. Help your family out. Do some good with it. All I ask is that you don’t share it with Rosalie. That witch would run off with it all and leave our kids penniless if she had her way.

  Thank you, Angie. I hope you’re happy with me.

  Al

  I looked at Angela in disbelief. “Alfred knew?”

  She nodded. “The whole time. And he never said a word.”

  “So did you keep his promise?”

  She bit her lip and nodded. “Yes. After he died, I disappeared, and Rosalie got nada. I didn’t even go to his funeral because I was so scared I would see her.”

  I stared in horror. “So if you’re not the one who’s cursed Alfred into some weird limbo, that means . . .”

  “Rosalie.” She nodded, wide eyed. “This is my first time back in town since he died, and I’m only here to clear out what’s left of Alfred’s things. I don’t want her to know. She’s into awful things that give me heebie-jeebies.”

  “This all makes sense,” I said, a million thoughts rushing through my brain. “You’re the only one who knows the truth, and you’ve been away for years. Alfred needed me to find you so that you could tell me and so that I could . . .” The words sputtered. What was I going to do to Rosalie? Kindly ask her to stop cursing Alfred’s name? That probably wouldn’t go over well.

  “I have to go,” I said faintly. “Thank you, Angela. I hope you’re spreading the good with his money.”

  “I have formed a charity in Colombia,” she said proudly. “Alfred’s memory lives on through the bright eyes of my country’s poorest children.”

  “Yeah, that’s great,” I said, turning away. “See you!”

  But I didn’t have to go far, since Reverend Henry was standing outside.

  “Well, that was interesting,” he said. “What happened with the bracelet? You touched it, and then all of a sudden you both looked shocked and you started yelling about Rosalie.”

  “There was a memory attached to it,” I said, and I quickly explained everything I’d learned. “Can you take me to Winchester? We’ve got to pay Rosalie a visit.”

  Reverend Henry looked at me, horrified. “That’s a lot to take in, Baylor.” He checked his watch, hesitated, and said, “My next appointment is a lost cause anyway. Let’s go.”

  TIP

  21

  Sticks and stones do more than break bones.

  “SHOULD WE TELL THE POLICE where we’re going, Baylor?” Reverend Henry asked as we sped down the highway. “Is this woman dangerous?”

  “She’s only dangerous if you’re already dead,” I said.

  My spine was tingling. I knew the Sheet Man mystery was going to be solved today, and I was excited to have Kristina back. I wondered if she would have any good stories to tell me.

  “What about your parents?” he asked. “Do they know you’re here?”

  “Uhh, not exactly,” I said breathily.

  “Baylor, please do not tell me you cut school and didn’t tell your parents.”

  “I didn’t think they would enjoy hearing about this very much.”

  “You’re going to get me in trouble,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m going to be cast out of my church because of you.”

  “Well, hopefully, you’ll be rewarded richly in the Beyond for all your efforts.”

  He side-eyed me and shook his head.

  We pulled up outside of Rosalie’s charming cottage a little while later, and I found it odd that someone so terrible could inhabit such a nice home. It was the exact same situation with humans, though—sometimes the ugliest souls lived in the best-looking people.

  “You can stay here,” I said to Reverend Henry. “I can take care of this on my own.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Yeah, right, Baylor,” he said, unbuckling his seat belt. “Let’s go.”

  We got out and walked up the brick path to her home. The dogs started barking before we’d even made it up the steps to her porch.

  “They don’t sound very friendly,” the reverend said.

  I knocked, but no one answered.

  “Doesn’t look like she’s home,” he said.

  I knocked once more, and this time the door opened just as my fist collided with it.

  I looked over at the reverend, but he was gone. In fact, most of the color from the street was gone. The back of my neck tingled. This is it. The talisman was shaking in my hands. I only wished I could blame it on some kind of supernatural power instead of my nerves.

  I crossed through the threshold and found myself in a narrow foyer. I could go either left or straight. Something told me to go left.

  I turned the corner, and standing in the sparsely decorated living room was Rosalie, dressed in red sweatpants and a tight white shirt. She held in her hand a length of white material, the same as what covered the Sheet Man, who was standing right next to her with the other end of the material around his neck, like a dog on a leash.

  My jaw fell open. How was Rosalie in this weird Sheet Man dimension with me?

  Then it hit me: She was a medium too!

  The worst part of the Sheet Man had been his eyes, and what suddenly struck me was that Rosalie now had the same eyes—black pits of tar piercing into my blue ones. It felt like snakes had invaded my stomach and slithered through my intestines. I knew Rosalie was bad, but I hadn’t expected this.

  “He found us out, dear,” Rosalie said quietly, her voice somehow echoing around the room as she lightly stroked the Sheet Man’s material. “And I’d been so careful for so long.”

  The Sheet Man said nothing, and I looked around for Kristina. />
  “She’s here,” Rosalie said, a tight smile forming. “But I wanted to speak with you alone first.”

  I saw that whenever her eyes moved, so did the Sheet Man’s, like both sets were controlled by her.

  “So Angela told you about our deal,” Rosalie said, “and all about Alfred’s last bit of trickery?”

  She pulled on the ghost leash, but the Sheet Man didn’t move.

  “How on earth did you know that?”

  “You have your tricks, Baylor. I have mine.” She tugged on the leash again. “You must look at this from my point of view,” she continued, entirely too calm for my liking. “You see—”

  But I didn’t get to see, because I couldn’t listen to this bizarre demon-woman for another moment, especially not when she had supernatural tricks hidden up her sleeve. I cracked open the egg, grabbed the stone, and chucked it at the Sheet Man.

  The sheet unraveled itself like a tornado of cloth, spinning upward to reveal Alfred and a balled-up Kristina, and then ripping itself into shreds to tie around Rosalie in midsentence. They bound her feet, pinned her arms to her sides, and covered her mouth, making her resemble a very haphazardly assembled mummy.

  “You did it!” Kristina yelled, unfolding herself and rising up, her hands balled into fists. “Oh, I knew you would!”

  Alfred was beaming at me, and the first thing I noticed was that his eyes were actually a light shade of brown. He looked like a friendly old man, though his nose resembled a small mountain squashed in the middle of his face, and I suddenly thought of his son Will’s big nose and laughed. They looked exactly alike.

  “This is too funny,” I said, feeling slaphappy. “It’s so great to see you both.”

  “Wait.” Kristina tensed up and looked through a wall. “We’re back in the physical world, and the dogs are coming.”

  And sure enough, the dogs came bounding from the front door—where they’d been barking at Reverend Henry, who was still outside—and leaped at me, their sharp teeth bared.

  Alfred laughed, and a fusion bomb of blue energy flew from his hand and hit the dogs with a force so great that they were blasted out the window in a disharmonious concert of broken glass and pathetic yelps.

  “So not fair,” Kristina said, shaking her head with admiration at his blasting abilities.

  “I’ve wanted to do that for years,” he said, flexing his still-glowing fingers.

  Reverend Henry rushed to the broken window and looked in to find me there with Rosalie all tied up.

  “Baylor, where did you go?!” he yelled. “You just disappeared!”

  “I was transported to that limbo realm,” I said. “Everything’s fine now.”

  “That’s great to know now,” he said while bending over and huffing, “but I panicked and called your mom. She’s on her way here, and she is not happy with us.”

  “What?” I moaned. “No!”

  “Who cares, Baylor!” Kristina said. “We need to deal with this whole situation first.”

  She motioned to Rosalie and Alfred. Their eyes were back to normal, and I was so relieved never to have to look at those beady black eyes ever again.

  “Thank you so much, Baylor,” Alfred said, practically dancing around the room in celebration of his freedom. “My lovely ex-wife had been using some voodoo magic for years before I died, and I was trapped in that gray landscape the second I crossed over.”

  Rosalie tried to say something, but her mouth was tightly gagged.

  “It’s not so great being bound up, is it, dear?” he said.

  She glared at him, but her now unremarkable eyes affected no one.

  Reverend Henry, unaware of the two ghosts present, kept looking from me to the bound-and-gagged Rosalie in shock. “What? Bay—wha—how—are you serious? What is this?”

  “Just settling some grisly ghost business, Reverend,” I said, grinning dreamily.

  “I’ll ask you for just one favor, Baylor,” Alfred said, turning back to me. “If you wouldn’t mind going downstairs to the basement and destroying her hate shrine dedicated to me?”

  I looked at Kristina, who was also grinning like a fool, and she nodded.

  “Okay,” I said, and he led the way down the hall and into the kitchen.

  “It’s just down there, in the far left corner,” he said, pointing to a door next to the refrigerator. “I’d go with you, but you’ll forgive me for being a bit paranoid about being so close to evil so soon. I can still feel it lingering all over me.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Kristina said, and she flicked something in my mind to tune me into the spirits.

  I frowned at her, wondering why she wanted me tuned in, and we walked down the stairs. I found the light switch, and the air was sucked out of my lungs.

  Rosalie had erected a table in the corner covered in all kinds of paraphernalia: an ancient, thick book, tarot cards, a cracked mirror, dark prisms, and a small voodoo doll covered in a white sheet, with pins sticking into all parts of the body.

  Standing guard over the table was a Bruton, its black, jagged wings spread apart like a massive bat’s, taking up nearly the entire width of the basement. The fire in its eyes burned mercilessly.

  “Kristina,” I said under my breath. “Back up. Go back up.”

  “No. Walk over with confidence and destroy the relics,” she said, defiant.

  I started walking slowly again, and with every step the fire in the Bruton’s eyes glowed more sinisterly.

  “Good demon,” I said breathlessly. “Good boy. Please don’t attack me.”

  Its head followed me and shifted violently around, like black smoke escaping into the air.

  I focused on my breathing, trying to keep it steady, in and out.

  It can’t hurt you, I reminded myself. It can’t touch you.

  I collected the tarot cards as the Bruton hovered over me, maybe three feet away. I ripped them up, trying to stifle a horrified gasp as wisps of black energy slithered into the air from the paper shreds and circled my hands, as if trying to invade me, before ultimately returning to the demon. Then I threw the book onto the floor and chucked the mirror at it, a thousand pieces of glass stabbing into its cover and scattering all over the bare gray concrete; the prisms met the same fate a few seconds later

  Finally, the doll. With each needle I removed, more black energy returned to the Bruton, like he was vacuuming it up. I shredded the miniature sheet, then ripped the head off the ragged voodoo doll, threw the pieces down, and stomped on them.

  The table empty, I smiled at Kristina and said, “That wasn’t so bad.”

  The Bruton, which had been eerily watching me, suddenly screeched, and it was like an airplane had just crashed into the house. The fire in its eyes exploded out at me, and it started beating its wings back and forth to direct the flames all around me.

  “Run, Baylor!” Kristina yelled.

  “Where?” I shouted back, seeing only fire, which seemed to take alternating shapes of people writhing in pain.

  Kristina looked around, then stuck her hand out and tried to blast a spot through the wall of fire, but it was like water evaporating in the heat of the flames.

  The wall started closing in, eviscerating the table and chairs, and before I knew it, the intense heat was just a few feet away, the hairs on my arms burning, the skin practically melting off me. The terror etched in Kristina’s face was sinking in, and I closed my eyes and simply thought, Help.

  A white flash lit up the circle of fire, and Colonel Fleetwood dropped down from nowhere, wielding his silver battle sword. He cut through the flames and thrust the sword forward into the body of the Bruton.

  The fire instantly vanished, reabsorbed into the shrieking Bruton. With one final fiery gaze, it tilted its head at me—at least, I think it did—and, wings beating furiously, flew off to terrorize someone else.

  “Demon dung,” Kristina and I said in unison. We looked at each other and laughed nervously.

  “Thank you, Colonel Fleetwood,” I said.


  “The pleasure was all mine, Baylor, now that I can freely travel between sides again,” he said. He looked Kristina up and down. She was the closest to crying I’d ever seen.

  “I don’t know what happened,” she said.

  “The protections are currently dismal at best,” the colonel said. “We’ll need to reinforce them later today.”

  “Baylor was almost taken by a Bruton,” Kristina shrieked. “We should do it right now.”

  Before the colonel could say anything else, though, Reverend Henry’s bloodcurdling scream bellowed from upstairs.

  TIP

  22

  Seriously, avoid Brutons at all costs.

  “WHAT HAPPENED?” I YELLED, SPRINTING up the stairs to the kitchen. “Can either of you see?”

  Colonel Fleetwood disappeared, but Kristina stuck with me. I sprinted down the hall to the living room, where Rosalie was standing behind Reverend Henry, holding a sharp dagger to his neck. Alfred and the colonel hovered near them.

  “Blast her!” I yelled.

  “The knife is right against his throat,” Kristina said. “The force would cut his head off.”

  “How did she get out?”

  “The dark energy of that demon slashed her bindings off,” Alfred said.

  “The Bruton!” Anger detonated inside of me. “I’m going to hunt it down and banish it.”

  “Baylor, let’s focus on the situation at hand,” Kristina said warily.

  “Right,” I said, looking at the reverend’s distraught and very confused face. “Rosalie, you insane witch of a person, drop the knife right now.”

  “Baylor Bosco, I knew the second you showed up on my doorstep that you’d be a thorn in my side,” she said. “Although I should have realized that the first time my dear Alfred escaped to visit you.”

  “You escaped her to see me?” I said to Alfred.

  “I did, though it didn’t accomplish anything except to terrify you,” he said. “Sorry about that. I needed to pass on a message to you somehow but couldn’t find a way.”

  “Why did you almost kill me on Halloween, then?”