Ghost Mortem (Bordertown Chronicle Book 1)

  It was like everyone was afraid of some specter I couldn't see.

  I thought about my experience, seeing the Oversoul pass judgment on the dead. There was something to that. Everything that comes down through that chain of command seems wrong somehow. But that's just the thing—we have this mysterious afterlife in a land beyond, which even the ghosts themselves seemed terrified of.

  “There's a specter hanging over this whole community, Doc. And I think it goes deeper than just the killing of a few women. Do you ever get that feeling?”

  Doc looked thoughtful. He took a moment before opening his mouth to answer.

  “All the time, boychik.”

  “Something is really wrong here,” I said. “I just can't put my finger on it.”

  “That sound's like a good helping of healthy paranoia to me.”

  “Yeah, of course you would say that,” I said. “But I've spent my whole life paranoid and now I'm not so sure.”

  “Maybe that's just the paranoia talking.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him, but he only chuckled to himself.

  “Very funny,” I said.

  I thought for a moment.

  “Doc,” I added. “There's something that's been bothering me. It's just…the way this case has played out. I can't help but shake the thought that it's someone in this community.”

  Doc nodded. “I've been thinking the same thing.”

  “You too, huh? Vikki also thought that.”

  Doc nodded. “She's a smart shiksa, that one.”

  I nodded.

  “You know,” he added. “It's really none of my business. But maybe you should tell her how you really feel.”

  “How I…I don't know, Doc. I mean…if it's this obvious to you, don't you think it's obvious to her too?”

  “Ay, ay, ay. Boychik. You know bupkis about women.”

  “So I've heard,” I said. “But you're changing the subject.”

  Doc nodded. “What are you thinking, boychik?”

  “Well…” I started. “Whoever's been…you know, staging this horrible, evil shit. It'd have to be someone…old. Older, anyway. At least my dad's age. And a male. It's gotta be a male.”

  Again, Doc nodded.

  “Privileged,” I added. “Caucasian—because of the victimology. I mean he loves torturing white women. He keeps them the longest. By far.”

  Doc nodded again.

  “He'd have to be someone a lot of people in the community would trust to come and go without question.”

  “Yes. Of course, boychik, you realize you've just described me.”

  “It's not you,” I said.

  He smiled, amused.

  “What makes you so sure, boychik?”

  “My lizard brain,” I said. “You care about all the people around you. You do so much in this town. For everyone. Even when you're not getting paid. That's so not something our unsub would do. Not even for the camouflage it might afford him.”

  Doc smiled.

  “So let me ask you then,” said the Doc. “Who in this town sets off your lizard brain?”

  “Nobody,” I said. “I guess that's what makes this so hard. But then again, I'm new here. I don't know, Doc. You've lived here all your life. What do you think?”

  “Well…first of all boychik, I haven't lived here all my life.”

  “You haven't?”

  Doc shook his head. “I've been here a long time though.”

  “How long?”

  “Since the eighties.”

  I nodded.

  I recalled what Sheriff Porter had told me about women on the force. And also what Vikki had said about monsters on the force. I hadn't realized it at the time, but I now knew Vikki was both.

  “Doc…” I began. “You were around when they first started letting women serve in the B.T.P.D. right?”

  Doc smiled. “Sure. I was part the whole feminist push to let them in.”

  Doc gestured to a photo on the wall of him with a young blond policewoman.

  “Is that…” I started, seeing an uncanny resemblance. “Is that Vikki?”

  Doc shook his head. “Her mother. Deputy Vanessa Valliant. She was among the first.”

  “Wow,” I said. “Now I see where Vikki got her good looks.”

  “Vanessa was a good cop too, boychik. The best. Like her daughter turned out to be.”

  “Right. Sorry. I didn't mean to diminish—”

  “It's all right boychik. I know what you meant.”

  I wondered what it must be like for Vikki, having a trailblazer mother on the force. Did she feel like she'd forever be living in her mother's shadow? Presumably not dissimilar to how I feel about my father?

  “Hey Doc…so…as a fellow feminist, uh…and a progressive I guess…what do you make of the policy of keeping monsters off the B.T.P.D.?”

  Doc sighed and shook his head. “It's meshuganah, I tell you.”

  “Vikki said it was because they might be too dangerous with all this equipment. That this way it keeps the monsters in check.”

  “Gavin…” he began.

  He stopped, looking around, as though to ensure he wasn't being overheard.

  Rachel was tending to the baby in the next room, and Raven was still downstairs, working on the steampunk robot arm. It was just the two of us. Still, Doc acted like he was about to reveal some big secret.

  And then he did.

  “Gavin, we're all monsters here.”

  “Yeah, but…wait. What do you mean by that?”

  “Another requirement for entering the B.T.P.D. is that you need Ectoplasmic Perception.”

  “Uh…right. Sorry. What's that again?”

  “The ability to see ghosts.”

  “Right…and that's not common. But…wait, are you saying that makes us monsters?”

  Doc nodded. “That's exactly what I'm saying, boychik.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  I tried to let that sink in. But my brain wasn't having it, and Doc could tell.

  “Listen, boychik,” he said. “Earlier when you asked about monsters, back in class, you remember—”

  “How could I forget? I can still taste my own shoe.”

  Doc gave me a weird look. “Did you try eating your shoe?”

  “No, it's from…it's an expression, Doc. I had my foot in my mouth.”

  “Boychik, listen carefully. The reason I didn't say more at the time was…there seems to be a misconception about the blurred lines between monster and human. And the reason for this is that we are all potentially monsters. All of us. All people.”

  “Potentially. What do you mean by that?”

  “Trauma, boychik.”

  “Trauma. What about it?”

  “Trauma makes monsters of us all, boychik.”

  “Is that…are you being metaphorical right now?”

  “No, boychik. Think. When you saw your first ghosts, what else was going on in your life?”

  “I…well…”

  I remembered back to that first night meeting the boy in the hospital while my sister's life hung in the balance.

  “My mom died,” I said.

  Doc nodded. “Every person I've ever met with ectoplasmic perception started seeing it immediately following a major trauma. It seems to be what triggers us to change. You, me, Raven, Jack. Vikki. Trauma makes monsters of us all, boychik. There's no preventing it. The real mitzvah is in holding onto your humanity when it happens.”

  “Holding onto our humanity? What do you mean, Doc?”

  “When a trauma changes us, boychik, our bodies and minds become trapped in a constant, heightened state of fight-or-flight. The memory of that trauma becomes its own kind of monster inside our own minds. And that monster can overpower us. It can drive some of us become predators. Real monsters. Not just because of how we change, but how we handle—or mishandle—that change. Think about the worst serial killers in history. Most of them weren't born that way, boychik. They got that way by being abused or traumatized in some major w
ay.”

  “Right. But most victims of trauma don't turn into serial killers.”

  “No. That's true. But enough of them do for it to be of concern. The pull of fight or flight, the inclination to lash out. Sometimes it becomes overpowering.”

  “Right,” I said. “But what does this have to do with people becoming fey?”

  Doc shrugged. “Nothing. Everything. The patterns are almost the exact same. Some people can endure a trauma and stubbornly—or stoically—remain unchanged. Some people descend into psychopathic rage. Some people retreat into a constant state of fear—post traumatic stress disorder…avoidant personality disorder—that kind of thing. And some people…boychik, some people awaken as fey.”

  “So…okay, but…I mean, it's not like we're dangerous. I mean, what can we do, really? So we can see ghosts. Big whoop.”

  “That's how it starts, yes.”

  “Okay, but…okay, wait. What do you mean that's how it starts?”

  “I mean, seeing ectoplasmic emanations is only the first phase of a fey transformation. Of all kinds of fey.”

  “And because I can see ghosts, I'm fey.”

  Doc nodded. “Precisely. You, me, your sister, your father.”

  “And Vikki.”

  “Yes. And Vikki.”

  “And seeing ghosts is just phase one? For all fey?”

  “That’s correct, boychik. W…well, and it's the same for vampires. But unless any of you have an insatiable craving for blood and a tendency to burst into flames when sunlight hits you, you're fey.”

  “Duly noted. So…what's phase two then?”

  “Depends what type of fey the trauma triggered. Full conversion may take years. Sometimes it never happens.”

  “What happens if it does?”

  “You change.”

  “Into what? What types of fey are there?”

  “You…really should take advantage of EERIE, boychik.”

  “Yeah, so I've heard. But is there any way you could give me, like, the Reader's Digest version for now?”

  “Okay. Some fey become etheria. Like your sister.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “She'll be able to manipulate and control ectoplasmic energy around her. And…eventually…some form of mild telekinesis.”

  “Like what?”

  “Oh…teleportation maybe?”

  “Teleportation? My sister's going to be able to teleport places?”

  “Maybe. Or invisibility. Or something else. Like I said, depends on the fey. But your sister appears to have awakened as etheria.”

  “What about my father?”

  “Hard to say without examining him.”

  “What other types of fey are there?”

  “Well, there are many. Listing them might be overkill. Like I said, you should take advantage of EERIE.”

  I thought about what Vikki showed me that night.

  “What about…like, is there a type of fey that controls time?”

  Doc smiled. “Sure. You're talking about the tempora.”

  “And here I thought tempura was battered, deep-fried shrimp.”

  Doc smirked. “The tempora are fey with temporal capabilities. Like time dilation. Basically making things slow down around them…Time travel…”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You're telling me some fey are capable of time travel?”

  Doc shrugged. “The fey can become quite powerful. It's still limited. We're talking mere seconds of usage between sleep cycles. But yes, they can become quite powerful and unpredictable. Especially when like-fey get together.”

  “Like-fey?”

  “If you put two tempora together, they become more powerful. They can also become more emotional. They can have trouble controlling their normal impulses…”

  I thought about that for a moment. I remembered that Vikki didn't know why she lost control after I succumbed to the influence of that succubus.

  Suddenly, everything was making a lot more sense.

  “Doc, does Vikki know all this?”

  Doc shrugged. “Vikki has a bit of a blind spot for herself. I know she's fey, but…I've never seen her use her powers. It's possible she may not know.”

  “Crap,” I said. “I have to talk to her.”

  Doc smiled again. “So I've been saying, boychik.”

  I nodded, and headed back towards his front door. At the door, I turned.

  “Thanks, Doc. And…thanks for taking care of my little sister.”

  “Raven is a special girl, boychik.”

  “Yes, Doc. She certainly is,” I said.

  With that, I left.

  Chapter 41

  Once I'd arrived outside Vikki's rustic home, it occurred to me I'd never actually been inside it. Would the place a mess, the way I'd expect a young, single workaholic female's place to be? Or would it be perfect?

  Like she is…

  I rang Vikki's doorbell. I waited. No answer. I couldn't tell if the doorbell was working or not, so I tried knocking. She was home, wasn't she? Where else would she be this time of night?

  I could faintly hear something coming from inside her home. It sounded like music.

  I went around the side of Vikki's house. As I did so, the muffled sound of music grew louder. Once I was in her back yard, I could make out the type of music—a female vocalist and a piano. I peered through the window, and saw the source of this music.

  There, upon a grand piano, was the talented Vikki Valliant, singing and playing a sad song.

  I thought to rap on the window, but I didn't want to startle her. And also…I didn't want to interrupt.

  It was the most beautiful, sad song I'd ever heard. There's nothing I can say to do it justice. Lyrically, it reminded me of Evanescence. Or maybe something by Metric. It was a ballad about a couple of girls growing up together like sisters. As I listened, I realized it was a death ballad. Whoever the other girl in the song was, Vikki missed her.

  Vikki didn't finish the song. Instead, she abruptly stopped playing and buried her face in her palms. It didn't take a detective to deduce from the way her shoulders shook that she was crying.

  As I watched her, I wished I was anywhere but there. It felt like I'd just walked in on a private moment, not meant for anyone to see. A part of me wanted to knock, and maybe have a joke ready to make her smile again. But I realized there was a part of her that probably didn't want anyone to know this sadness even existed, let alone would she want to be seen like this.

  Of course, now I was seeing her like this, so I'd have to lie and omit having come to find her at all. I supposed I could creep back around the house and ring the bell again. Maybe she'd hear it this time. Maybe she'd hear, take a moment to dry her tears, put on a smile she could hide behind and answer.

  No, I thought to myself. Fuck that. If something's bothering Vikki, I want to know. And I want her to know I want to know. Because sometimes that's all you need, just to know someone else cares whether you're truly happy or not.

  I rapped on the window

  Vikki almost jumped. I'd clearly startled her. She looked over at the window to stare at me with doe-like eyes, like she'd just been caught masturbating.

  What could I do that was innocuous enough, I wondered?

  I waved, with a dopey grin on my face. Like and asshole.

  Vikki furtively wiped away her tears, making it look like what she was really doing was waking up. Vikki smiled, the way she always does. The smile looked warm and genuine. But now I had to wonder. Who was the real Vikki Valliant? How much of the Vikki Valliant the community sees is a mask?

  Vikki walked to her rear window and opened it.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey,” I said. “Are you okay?”

  She smiled wryly. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

  I had to think about that one. I supposed it had to be. 'Are you all right' almost always is. The truth was, I wasn't sure if any of us were all right. I was still pretty shaken from that discovery about my dad. So was she,
evidently.

  “Fair enough,” I said.

  “I have a front door, you know. It has a doorbell and everything.”

  “I tried that. Apparently you were too busy being a modern Mozart back here.”

  “Oh,” she said, looking a bit embarrassed. “Fair enough. Yeah…I guess I was off in my own little world there.”

  “What was that?”

  “What was what?”

  “What you were playing.”

  “Why?”

  I shrugged. “I liked it.”

  “It's…it's just something I wrote. About a friend. Well…you remember I told you about her. My friend Stephanie.”

  I nodded. “It's beautiful. It's…it's sad, but…I don't know. I guess so many of the best songs are.”

  She nodded. “Thanks.”

  “Do you write a lot of music?”

  “Not anymore. Well…sometimes. Not as much these days.” Vikki smiled introspectively. “There was a time…a lifetime ago it seems…I wanted to be a singer.”

  “Why didn't you?”

  Vikki shrugged. “That's not what the community needed.”

  Not what the community needed? What kind of answer is that?

  “What about what you needed?” I asked.

  “I was still just a girl when I wanted to be a singer. I wanted to be the next Avril Lavigne. Or a female David Bowie.”

  “Well you totally could have been. Except, you know…even prettier.”

  She blushed and cracked a smile. “Shut up.”

  I took a moment to enjoy making her blush. What I really wanted to do was put my hand on her cheek and tell her I thought she was the most beautiful creature on Earth.

  “You probably still could be. You're what…twenty-two? Still got your whole life ahead of you.”

  Vikki looked sad. Had I said something wrong? She looked like she was on the verge of tears.

  “Hey…” I said. “Can I, um…Can I come in?”

  “I don't know if that's such a good idea.”

  “Right,” I said. “People will talk?”

  “Something like that.”