by Ann M. Noser
“You said everyone up here has a job that they truly enjoy, right? Who likes doing laundry?” And who went through my stuff?
“It takes all kinds, I guess.” He picks out the small picture of him from my wallet. “Where’d you get this?”
“Your sister. We’ve been writing each other.”
“Really?” His eyes widen. “How is Laura?”
“She’s great, but I guess your dog Nani’s not doing so well. She’s sick or something. They were taking her to the vet last I heard.”
Jake sighs. “Poor Nani. She was the best dog.” He sets the picture back down, then walks over to a lit panel in the wall. He pushes a few buttons and a Beethoven sonata floats in from invisible speakers.
“I thought you only liked rock and roll.” I fidget with the pile of clothes, then notice I’m standing right next to the bed and move away.
He chuckles. “Rock music’s still the best, in my opinion, but I saw those piles of classical piano books you had at your house, and figured you’d like this better.”
I remember practicing piano at home, my parents’ proud faces at my recitals, decorating the Christmas trees, going ice skating. When would I see my family again?
Tears fall before I can stop them. “Jake, I’m worried about my parents, and I can’t remember anything. This is horrible.”
He hurries to my side and I lean on his shoulder.
I sniffle. “I don’t even know how I died.”
He hugs me close. “I wouldn’t have known either, without you.”
“This is what it’s like when you die? You don’t get to know?”
“Everyone has a different story how they got here. Only ours are the same-the ones you brought back.”
My shoulders droop. “Sometimes I wonder if I didn’t make things worse, especially after seeing Sam tonight.”
He squeezes me tighter. “You don’t make things worse. You only make them better.”
“How can you be so sure?” I breathe in the familiar smell of him. I still miss him, even when he’s right here in front of me. My chest still aches, like I’ll never be happy.
“Because I know you. You’re practically perfect.”
I flush. “Practically? As in, not one-hundred percent?”
“Yes, Miss Perfectionist, you do have some lingering issues. For example, you’re still dressing like a boy.” He points at the Doors shirt on his dresser.
“But you like that band,” I point out.
“Okay. That shirt can be the one exception.” He smiles, more gently this time. The room stills, except for Beethoven and my heart.
Jake gazes at me until I get dizzy with waiting.
Kiss me already! A voice inside of me begs.
“So… “ His voice is gruff. “… about that tattoo.”
show him the stupid tattoo.
He grimaces. “What the Hell happened to you?”
I shrug. “I told you, I don’t know-“
“It doesn’t make sense that you’re here already.” Jake backs away. “Not that I’m not happy to see you. I just thought it would take longer.”
I cross my arms. “Gee. I’m so glad to hear you don’t actually want me around.”
He paces the room. “Be serious, Emma. Aren’t you the least bit concerned what happened to you?”
“Of course I want to know what happened, but I can’t remember.” I give up. My mind won’t work right.
“Then try harder,” he urges, stepping close and grabbing my arms.
“Okay.” I close my eyes, attempting to focus, but it’s as if something it blocking the light. I can’t see anything but a tiny flicker in the back of my mind. “I’m sorry, Jake. I don’t know.”
“Never mind. We’ll figure it out. I’m just glad you’re here.” Jake takes my face in his hands. “Because, no matter what happened, now you’ll be safe.”
I clear my throat. “Safe would be nice.”
“I worry about you.” Jake sighs.
I attempt a laugh, which catches in my throat. “I don’t blame you.”
“Then don’t blame me for this, either.” Jake pauses a moment, his eyes troubled, before he kisses me.
This time I’m not drunk. This time I know what love is. I feel every flutter of my heart, every breath on my cheeks, every movement of his hands. And it’s perfect.
Until I open my eyes and discover I’m not kissing Jake anymore.
It’s somebody else.
What the heck? I step back.
Mike stands in front of me instead.
He morphs into Dominic. Blood soaks the front of his shirt.
The vision shifts once again. Shadow appears, his sneer crowded with crooked teeth. “No use resisting. You’re one of us now.”
I choke as black, acrid smoke fills the room. The floor beneath me shifts, and the walls disappear.
I fall on my hands and knees in the park where I burned the Book of Shadows.
My own voice asks the dark night, “Mike? Is that you?”
But I’m not the one speaking.
“Emma?” Mike’s voice comes from my mouth instead. “Where are you? What’s going on?”
The small flare of a match ignites, then swiftly burns out. The world hushes, as if waiting. As if it knows what comes next. From across the park, I watch myself bend over the fire pit, reaching out my hands toward a glowing presence.
How can I see myself? Am I Mike, now?
Does he possess me, too?
An explosion rips the ground, scattering dirt and rock and branches.
I crawl over to my body, and brush off debris. Try to find a pulse. Nothing. Put my hands to my chest, and push once, twice, three times. Blow warm breath into the cold mouth, then listen.
No response.
I push on the chest again, but can’t remember CPR. Is this right? Can’t remember.
Crows scream, circling overhead.
Even this late at night they can smell Death.
Sirens tear the night in two, ringing in my ears.
Headlights race into the park. Cursing, I jump up and run away.
I can’t stay. Not supposed to be here.
I race through the woods, someone close behind me.
Are they dead or alive?
And what am I? Am I Mike? Am I Emma? Who am I?
And what have I done?
IKE!” I break away from Jake’s embrace. “Oh my God, what have I done to him now?”
Jake freezes. “Emma, what’s going on?”
“Oh, no.” I sink to my knees. I’ve ruined everything.
“I’ve gotta tell you. There’s nothing more flattering than when your girlfriend screams out some other guy’s name while you’re kissing her.”
Wait a minute. “I’m your girlfriend?” I ask weakly, my heart taking a limp leap, as if it doesn’t have the energy to soar.
Jake sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe I should ask you.”
“Sorry, Jake, but I can’t talk about us right now.” I take a shuddering breath, the images in my head swirling. “I’ve got to focus, to remember it all. It’s important.” Unfortunately, more important than kissing Jake. At least right now it is. “I had a vision.”
“Sounds like it was a good one,” he mutters.
I glare at him. “Shut up and let me finish. I remember what happened now.”
He sits on the bed, first glancing away, then turning back and patting the spot next to him.
I pace the room instead. “Did the others tell you about the séance I performed at the site of Steve’s murder?”
“Yes.” He folds his hands together.
“Walker had me do the same thing again—and not just for Steve, but for two other women who were murdered as well.”
His shoulders slump. “I have a feeling I won’t like this story.”
I pause, trying to clear my muddled mind. “This time, when I worked the revealing spells for Walker, instead of just watching the events like before, the attacks started happening to me inste
ad.”
Jake’s jaw clenches. “What do you mean by that?”
“Brace yourself.” I stretch down the collar of my turtleneck to offer a glimpse of yellow, brown, and purple bruises. I make a weak joke. “Too bad I didn’t hang out longer in that healing pool, right?”
His eyes widen. “What did Charlie say about this?”
“Well, I didn’t exactly tell him what was happening… at first.” I fidget with shirtsleeve.
Jake jumps off the bed. “You let him continue with his experiment, even though it hurt you?”
“Trust me-I wanted to tell him, but every time I tried to explain, something inside me wouldn’t let me speak. I thought I was going nuts. The voices of the victims and the attackers argued in my head. I kept blacking out, losing time, and ending up somewhere I never remembered going in the first place. My totally annoying neighbor Phoebe even found me passed out under the Chippewa River Bridge once when my parents came to visit.”
Jake doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t have to.
I take a deep breath. “Things were getting way out of hand, and I went to Walker’s house determined to tell him everything and get him to help me.”
Jake clenches and unclenches his fists. “And then what?”
“Things didn’t go well, I’m afraid, and it was probably all my fault. So I decided to destroy the Book of Shadows.”
He raises his eyebrows, clearly surprised. “Really? Why would you destroy it?”
Tears moisten my eyes. “I had to stop the voices before I went back to Father Joe.”
Jake waves his hands in the air. “Wait. I’m lost. Who’s Father Joe?”
“He’s an…” I pause, dreading Jake’s reaction. “He’s an exorcist.”
He grabs my shoulders. “Are you kidding me? You need an exorcist?”
I glance down at my hands. “Yes. I do.”
“What’s wrong with you?” his voice cracks. “You take far too many risks.”
“I never claimed to be normal.” I fake a smile.
He shakes his head. “That’s not even funny, Emma. When you first got here, it worried me. But I didn’t say anything to Steve, because I was selfish and wanted you for myself. I should’ve known you were in trouble.”
My shoulders droop.
Jake tugs on my arm, leading me toward the door. “Let’s go see Steve. Maybe he can help.”
“Is he really in charge up here?”
“I’m afraid so.” Jake takes my hand and we hurry down the narrow streets, passing row after row of white stucco buildings.
“Are we in Greece?” I ask.
“You’re dead. It sounds like you’re possessed. But you’re still in denial about what’s happened, aren’t you? This isn’t Greece, Emma.”
“But there’s an ocean nearby,” I argue. “I can smell it. And these charming little homes look like the ones in Mom’s Mediterranean travel guides.”
Jake urges me forward. “Come on. We’re almost there. Hurry.”
“Stop rushing me. I think Heaven’s made you even bossier than before.”
“This isn’t Heaven, either. You’re not there yet.” Moments later, Jake halts before a tall stone building and gestures at a huge wooden door. “Here it is. Make sure you knock hard, or they won’t hear you.” He turns to leave.
“Where are you going?” I grab his arm and Jake flexes. “Why aren’t you coming in with me?”
His gaze flickers from me down the street and back. He’s evading something. “Steve and I don’t see eye to eye on most things. You should probably visit him on your own. I’d get in the way.”
“But I—” I want you to stay with me.
“This is what’s best.” His gaze darts toward the massive door swinging open. “You need help that I can’t give you. But Steve can.”
A security guard dressed in black glowers down at me. “You’re late.”
“How can I be late? I don’t even have an appointment. I just came to see Steve.”
Without a word, the tall guard grabs my arm and drags me inside. The door slams shut behind us, Jake’s face disappearing with a loud thud. The guard yanks me down a long gray hallway, my feet slipping on the glossy floor. I stumble trying to keep up. Sheesh. No wonder Jake didn’t want to come along. After a few twists and turns, the guard pushes me into an office filled with high-end furniture.
“Mr. Lawrence will be with you soon.”
“Okay. Thanks—” The door slams shut in my face. “Thanks for nothing, I guess!” I thought people were supposed to like their jobs up here. That guy must enjoy being a giant a-hole. I rub my sore arm and circle the office. This place is enormous. It doesn’t feel like the Steve I knew at all. He seemed like a regular guy, and this looks all official. Brass lamps, a mahogany desk, and leather chairs. The best that money can buy. That is, if money even exists here.
Twenty minutes later, Steve strolls in, wearing a crisp blue oxford and power tie.
“Emma! You’re here!” He embraces me in a professional hug, with the proper amount of back slapping involved. Two pats, not three. How odd. Like I’m meeting a senator to petition for women’s rights or something.
“Wow, Steve, this is one impressive office. What exactly do you do here?”
“I’m in charge.” Steve points at the chair across from his massive desk. “Have a seat.”
“So I’ve heard. That happened quickly.” I settle into the buttery leather. “You’re dressed so sharp, I hardly recognize you. What happened to the real Steve? You look like a big boss man, or something.”
“Thank you.” His smile stretches like a plastic politician. “I’ve been told that I’m a natural for the job.”
I pause. That wasn’t meant to be a compliment. What’s going on with him? This is uncomfortable. And somehow I don’t like asking him for help. I clear my throat. “Listen, Steve. I have a problem.”
“Yes. I can see that.” Steve’s curled lip makes me feel dirty. “You’ve brought undesirable company with you.”
“You can see them?” I jump out of my seat, searching the room for signs of possession—spinning cups, dripping faucets, and the like, but find nothing. “You’re sure they’re still with me?”
His steely eyes stare right into me. Can he see Dominic? No wonder he’s upset.
“You’re not alone, Emma. Let me assure you of that.”
I sit back down. “Shoot. I thought maybe they were gone. I haven’t heard them at all since I got here. In fact, I didn’t even remember about them at first.”
He frowns. “They’re subdued, but certainly not absent. God won’t grant you an audience in this condition.”
My head swirls. “What are you talking about?”
Steve leans over his desk as if I am his wayward pupil. “People always want to know when they get to see God. Part of my job is to keep them away until it’s the right time.”
“Well, it’s the right time for me. I’ve got a million questions.”
He shakes his well-groomed head. “Sorry. You’re not ready yet.”
I clench the arms of the chair. “No. I’m more than ready!”
“You’ll need to spend more time in the Healing Waters first.”
I roll my eyes. “What are you saying? That I have to do water aerobics with the old ladies? What is wrong with this place?”
A smile plays across Steve’s lips. “Funny Emma. You always did get upset over nothing.”
“Nothing? This is not nothing.” This is exasperating. Some help talking to Steve turned out to be.
“No, it’s not.” Steve crosses his arms. “They told me you killed yourself with witchcraft. What did you expect—God would welcome you with a parade? It doesn’t work that way.”
I flinch as if Steve slapped me, then come roaring back. “What I expected was that God would be more understanding.” I slump in my chair, exhausted by Steve’s lack of sympathy. I thought he was my friend. I guess I was wrong about a lot of things. And I didn’t mean to kill myself, but shoul
dn’t God be merciful anyway? “What about Sam? Has God seen him yet?”
Steve nods, tapping his desk with a pen. “I’m told Sam was seen right away.”
“That’s not fair! I didn’t kill myself on purpose. I was trying to get rid of the Book of Shadows before it killed me.”
Steve frowns. “You never should have harmed such a valuable item.”
I feel small now. “I didn’t trust it anymore. It was starting to take over.”
“And you don’t like it when you’re not in control.” A flicker of a smile plays on his lips. “But your job was to protect the Book of Shadows.”
“Not at my own expense.” Why is this turning into a fight? He’s so different than before. Or is he?
Steve folds his fingers together. “I have to say I’m disappointed.”
“Don’t start with me, Steve. I tried to help Walker, partly to solve your murder, I might add, but all these spirits started attacking me. I tried to get help from Father Joe—”
“I know about the exorcist.”
This takes my breath away. “How?”
“I know a lot of things, and yet, it’s not enough. There’s always more.” He leans forward in this desk chair. “Now what exactly happened with the book?”
I take a deep breath. “When I threw the Book in the fire, I think I brought Mike back. Again. That’s what I came here to tell you. I need your help.”
“You’re sure about this?” Steve checks his watch. What kind of schedule is he on?
“At first I couldn’t remember what happened, but it came back to me in a flash. I saw it in a vision just now.”
Steve pauses before asking, “You’re positive this vision was real and not just a dream?”
I level my eyes at him and scrunch up my shirtsleeve to reveal the snake tattoo on my arm. “None of this has been ‘just a dream.’“
He flinches and adjusts his silver cuff links. “Have you told the others?”
“I’ve only told Jake so far, but at lunch Bernard said he couldn’t find Mike anywhere, so I know I’m right.”
Steve drums his fingers on the desk, then pulls out a pad of gold-embossed paper and a thick black pen. “I’ll have someone look into it. But don’t forget you’re possessed. We have to be absolutely sure this isn’t something the spirits want you to believe.” He presses a buzzer. One of his guards rushes in and stands at attention as Steve’s pen scratches across the paper. He rips the sheet from the pad and hands it to the man, mumbling directions I can’t hear.