“I’ve got forty-five for lunch,” Mimi said, still smacking on her gum. “It takes ten to get to the house and ten to get back. That leaves you about twenty if we hit pavement right now.”
She barely looked at me as the words tumbled out of her mouth in an emotionless wave.
“Let’s go then,” I said, standing and following her out of the diner. Moving out into the parking lot, I asked, “Should we take my car or y-”
“The daughter’s got mine,” she answered. “Takes it to work every day. It’s yours or nothing.”
“It’s mine then,” I answered, pressing the button on the keyless entry (one of the best damn inventions of the last sixty years, if you ask me) and headed to my convertible.
Mimi looked it up and down before entering, as if she could judge me by the make and model of what I drove.
If she could, it seemed she found me wanting in yet another category.
“Take a left out of the parking lot and then the first right,” she said, pulling a seatbelt over her chest and resting her head on her own shoulder.
“I remember where it is,” I answered, realizing she still lived in the same house I used to all those years ago, the house I left her when I… when I left.
“Could have fooled me,” she said flatly, but didn’t look over.
I didn’t bother to defend myself. I couldn’t, and even if I managed to come up with some defensible reason for doing what I did, Mimi had made it clear that her opinion of me was set in stone; cemented by years of struggle and resentment.
Nothing was going to change that, not if I lived another thousand lifetimes trying.
We pulled into the gravel drive leading to a house where I’d spent the better part of a decade. Memories came flooding back as the old white house came into view.
Life is a funny thing, especially a long life. Your brain can take hold of things, put them in a vault. And then, when you’re least expecting it, they can come rushing out and really fuck up your day.
As I threw the car in park, I remembered these fields. I had been a farmer back then, complete with overalls, a tractor, and a work ethic that would break a horse’s back.
It was a good life but, like all lives but mine, it was temporary.
“The old place looks good,” I said, getting out of the car and looking over the place.
“It looks like shit,” she answered. “If you’re gonna come back here, the least you can do is not patronize me, all right?”
“All right,” I answered, again not trying to defend myself.
“Let’s get inside,” she said, not waiting for me to answer before she started toward the house. “I need coffee and Grandma’s usually strongest in her old bedroom.” She looked back at me. “In your old bedroom, I guess I should say.”
“Right,” I grunted and followed her up on the old wooden porch I helped build back in ’68. It was a little worse for wear, but still sturdy. Under different circumstances, I’d have been proud of my craftsmanship, but watching the way this woman who used to love me now bristled at my nearness kind of took the shine off any of my other accomplishments.
Mimi entered the house and shivered. I knew what that meant; the same thing in meant when she was six years old, running into our bedroom scared to death.
“The ghosts are still strong?” I asked, trying not to look around the house too much. Too many memories were already flooding back. I didn’t need a reason to trigger anymore.
“That’s the life of a medium. Though, having a witch for a grandmother helped,” she answered, not breaking stride as she moved back toward my old bedroom. “What am I supposed to call you now anyway?” she asked.
“Grandpa’s out of the question?”
“Ain’t no law that says I gotta help you or the people you want to save. I can still say no,” she said, pushing open the bedroom door. “You still go by Carlton?”
“Callum,” I said, nodding and walking in behind her.
“That’s a pansy name if I ever heard one,” she spit back. “Suits you.”
The room had barely changed since I last stayed here nearly fifty years ago. The paintings of boats still hung on the wall. The same flowered wallpaper held the same stains as before. And the bed looked to have not moved from its stalwart place against the wall. Though, thankfully, it did seem as though the mattress had been replaced.
“She hated you, you know?” Mimi said, pulling a sheet from the closet and laying it on the floor.
“Your grandmother?” I asked, tilting my head. “No, we just had a little fight.”
“Her last words were, ‘My only regret is him.'”
“So it was a big fight,” I answered. “I’ll make it up to her.”
“Seems a little late for that,” Mimi said. “Tell me what you need her for.”
“I told you,” I answered, grabbing the opposite end of the sheet and helping her spread it out. For whatever reason, she let me. “There are people I need to save.”
“And she can help you with that?” Mimi seemed more than a little doubtful. “She’s been dead fifty years.”
“You know how witches are. They’re all mouth,” I answered. “Even after they die. Though, I suppose I don’t have to tell you that.”
“There are other witches and other mediums you could have come to,” Mimi said. “After everything you’ve done, why come to me?”
“Because, I don’t know who’s involved in this,” I answered honestly. “You say your grandmother’s been dead for fifty years. That means she doesn’t have a hand in whatever’s going on here. I also know I can trust her. And she knows she can trust you. I’ve reached out to your grandmother before. She doesn’t answer. But if she sees that you’re the one doing it-”
“You’re using me so you can use her. I get it. I should be used to it, come to think of it,” she answered, sitting on the sheet and crossing her legs.
“That’s not the only reason,” I said.
“I’m sure,” Mimi said, cutting me off. “Now sit down, and let’s get this over with.”
I shut my mouth and sat my ass on the floor.
Mimi closed her eyes and opened her palms. I hadn’t seen her channel a spirit since she was six years old. Even then, she was a master at it.
A chill rushed through the air already. Spirits were here. If I was lucky, one of them would be my ex-wife.
I had watched lots of mediums over the years. Some of them had been witches who tried desperately to focus their magic to talk to the dead. That almost never worked. Others were people who had bargained their souls away for the ability. That was more successful, but too volatile. Rarer, were the people like Mimi, people born with the gift.
And of those people, I had never seen anyone take to it the way she had.
It was freaking beautiful.
Her face went limp and then rigid. It was happening. It was happening right now.
I took a deep breath and tried to settle myself. But it was so damn cold in here now that my teeth were chattering.
Mimi’s eyes fluttered open and they weren’t green anymore. They were brown… the color of her grandmother’s.
“Pearl,” I said, watching Mimi’s face contort with a new visitor.
“Well, now, look at what the cat dragged in,” she said, leaning back on her shoulders. “Little Mister Cai-”
“Stop,” I said, leaning forward. “You know what happens when you say my name.”
“You haven’t found a way around that yet?” she asked, her eyebrows arched. “I shouldn’t be surprised. From what I hear, that’s not the only thing you’ve failed at since I’ve been gone.”
“I see, you’ve been keeping tabs on me,’ I answered.
“Of course I have, sweetie. You’re very popular on the other side. Us witches love a good train wreck.” She winked at me. “Especially one that just keeps on going.”
“I didn’t realize I had an audience,” I answered. “You guys must have been particularly fond of the 60s.”
“It’s been too long,” I said.
“Longer than it had to be,” she answered. “If I remember correctly, I was still kicking when you walked away.”
“About that,” I started, setting my jaw.
“No, it was my fault. I should have known better than to dare get sick, get old,” she scoffed.
“I was never good at goodbyes, Pearl,” I said, my eyes flickering to the floor.
“That’s a shame,” she answered. “Sometimes they’re the best part.” She shook her head. “But neither of us is here for that. I’ve moved on and so have you. I can feel my granddaughter growing tired, and honestly, I don’t want to bother her with your presence any longer than is absolutely necessary. So why not tell me why you’ve called on me?”
“There have been some murders,” I said.
“There have been countless murders, just as there have been countless automobile accidents and countless bouts with cancer. What would you have me do about it?” Pearl asked.
“Here, Pearl,” I said. “Women are being killed, and with their bodies, I’m finding some of my belongings.” I pulled the necklace from my pocket and held it in the air.
“And who was that for?” Pearl asked, looking it over.
“Someone long before you,” I answered, blinked, and shoved it back into my pocket. “It’s not important.”
“Nothing is after long enough. Isn’t that your motto?” she asked.
“I just need to know what you know. The witches on the other side, what sort of gossip have they heard?”
“There have been things,” Pearl answered. “Nothing concrete and certainly nothing specific, but I have heard whispers from some of the most powerful specters I’ve ever come across, and they tell me something big is coming down the river. An old power and a new power working in tandem, and they’re both after the ultimate prize.”
“Prize?” I asked, moving forward a little. “What prize?”
“I’m afraid that’s all I’ve got. Specters aren’t known for the specificity. It’s basically doom, gloom, and terror talk.” She grinned at me. “But if they’re working that hard to get your attention, I’d bet they’re after everything you’ve got.”
“Lucky for me, I don’t have anything,” I said, standing up.
“Is that what you think, sweetheart?” Pearl asked, looking up at me. “I don’t think you’ve been looking close enough.”
“What the hell does that-”
But I felt a rush of warm air and Mimi’s body went rigid again.
“Wait,” I said, realizing that Pearl was losing her grip on Mimi’s body. “There’s a woman. She can see through the glamour you put on me.” Moved closer to her body, which was starting to shake. “She can see my mark, Pearl.”
“Maybe…” Pearl started, her eyes flickering between green and brown. “Maybe she’s proof.”
“Proof of what?” I asked as her eyes drew closed. “Proof of what, Pearl?”
Her body seized hard and then went limp.
Damnit, she was gone.
I rushed down to Mimi, hoping to make sure she was okay.
I scooped her into her arms but, the instant she came back to herself, she pushed me away.
“I hope ya got what ya needed,” she said, straightening herself up. “So you can be on your way.”
“More or less,” I answered, blinking hard.
I stood, trying to think of something to say. But what was there? After this many years, after so much hurt, what was there to say?
Instead, I just turned to leave.
“Callum,” Mimi said, using my new name.
I turned, but didn’t speak.
“What was the other reason?”
“What?” I asked.
“You said that there was another reason you came to me instead of any of the other mediums in the city. I wanna know what it was.”
I looked her square in the eyes, shrugged, and told her the truth. “I missed you.”
And then I walked away.
10
I barely had time to shower and change before I was scheduled to meet Meredith.
Checking myself in the mirror on the way out the door, a strange sensation started up in my chest.
Was I nervous about this?
Nah. That didn’t sound right. I was only going on this stupid date to get answers as to why she could see what no one else walking the planet could.
Pearl had been powerful in her day. She was one of the strongest witches I had run across in my entire life. That was what attracted me to her in the first place, and that was why I could be sure that nobody — regardless of how strong their magic might be — was going to bust up her spell.
So how was this girl — this doctor, who was barely in her twenties and probably spent her formative years under the shade of a Justin Timberlake poster — able to do what no one else had?
She didn’t seem to have any magical properties. Witches usually had a vibe. So did mediums, mystics, demons wearing human flesh, and fallen angels.
Anything that had extraordinary properties usually tinged at my senses a little bit. But Meredith, did the opposite. She was easy, as plain as toast. So what the hell was going on?
I shot Andy a text. He hadn’t been in the apartment when I got there, which meant that his work day was running long. Hopefully, he’d run across more useful information than I had. It was a safe bet, seeing as how criminals were usually much more direct than spirits, once you got ‘em to talk.
Checking out the doc. Be back later. Get it done. – C
I wasn’t sure why I’d identified myself in the message, Phones had a way of doing that for me as of late. Maybe it was a habit, like the way I used to expect actors in the movies to bow when they were finished the way they used to in plays.
Or maybe, I was just being stupid. Either was equally likely.
I pulled up in front of the restaurant Meredith specified in her text earlier. There was a valet out front, but I had never been down for that sort of thing. So I shot the kid a two fingered wave and pulled past him into the nearest parking spot.
“Sorry bud,” I said, handing him a five spot as I passed him on my way into the restaurant. “I don’t like people driving my car.”
“I’ll try to recover somehow,” he answered, stuffing the cash into his pocket.
Corleone's Trattoria was pretty busy tonight, with couples lined up on either side of the wall, waiting to be seated.
“Meredith O’Dell,” I said to the host, a freckly guy in a dinner jacket and red tie.
“You’re Merry’s date?” he asked, eyeing me up and down. “Good for her.” He grabbed a menu and turned on his heels. “Right this way.”
I found her at the far end of the place, wearing a white dress with a neckline that plunged down just far enough for me to wish it was a little further.
A hint of skin and a flash of the prettiest smile I had seen in a decade, and the nervousness in my chest flared up.
“Hey there, I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show,” Meredith said, biting her lip.
“He’d know better than to stand a girl like you up,” the host said, setting a menu down in front of the empty chair across from Merry. “Or at least he should.” He leaned in closer to her, whispering so that I couldn’t hear. Suddenly, learning to read lips during World War II came in handy. “You’re right. He is cute,” the host said. “I thought you said he had a scar though.”
“He… He does,” Merry said, similarly quietly as she glanced up at my face.
“Really?” the host grinned. “Hope it’s in an interesting place.”
Then, nodding at me, he turned on his heels again and marched back toward the front of house.
“A friend of yours?” I asked, sitting across from her and grabbing the menu.
“An old coworker,” she answered. “A girl’s gotta pay her way through med school so
mehow.” She reached clear across the table and pulled the menu out of my hands. “You won’t need that. I’ve already ordered for the both of us.”
“Is that right?” I asked, “And what makes you think you know what I want?”
She leaned toward me, inadvertently giving a better peek down her blouse.
Or maybe it wasn’t inadvertent.
“People like to think they’re complicated but, the truth is, most of us are all looking for the same thing.”
“And what’s that?” I asked, genuinely interested in her answer.
“In this case, Tuscan salmon,” she answered. “Trust me. It’s the closest thing to heaven you can get before dying.”
I stifled a chuckle. “I better jump at it then.”
We made small talk until the Caesar salads came, and then again until the salmon did.
Merry was right. It was damn good fish; not exactly heavenly (not that I’d know anything about that), but she was young so I forgave her excitability.
I listened to everything she had to say; all the tidbits about her family and where they came from, the talk about how hard medical school was, and how her brother used to be a real jerk and then he got sober.
If this had been an actual date, I’d wager that I was doing pretty well. Thousands of years of experience had taught me that there was no better way to get to a woman’s heart than by shutting the hell up and actually listening.
Though, if she knew the real reason I was listening so intently, Merry probably wouldn’t let me anywhere near her, let alone her heart.
Still, she was bound to inadvertently spill some clue about how it was she could do what she did. I just had to listen.
The freckled host came and filled our wine glasses. It was the third for each of us, but I had built up an unparalleled tolerance over the centuries. Merry on the other hand, I wasn’t so sure.
“The host is filling our glasses?” I asked as the haughty dude turned and sauntered away again.
“I told you, I’m a big deal here,” she answered, taking another huge gulp. I grimaced, but held my tongue. Big drink might equal loose lips, and I needed that. So I followed suit, subtly egging her on.
Mark of Cain (Immortal Mercenary Book 1) Page 7