Death of the Body

by Rick Chiantaretto

  I didn’t know what to say in response, but I also jumped out of bed. I didn’t realize how cold it was going to be until I was standing outside of the warm blankets. The fact that I was nude surely didn’t help. “Look,” I reached for a pair of pants myself, “we just need to talk. All of us.”

  “I don’t want to know. I don’t want to be dragged back into this again. One cop was enough! I don’t want to have to deal with more investigations or answer any more questions when the people around you get murdered again. And I swear if I have to hear one more shrink tell me I have some warped aversion to religion, or some other aversion to this, or another aversion to that, I’m going to hurt somebody.”

  “You went through therapy?”

  “We all did, Edmund. Every last child survivor was required to submit to psychoanalysis. You freaked everyone out. I thought maybe people made up the things they said about you, but this thing, whatever it is, follows you around. Whatever you did in that class that made water come out of solid granite, whatever happened in that room with the nuns during your exorcism, it is still following you.”

  “It isn’t following me, it is me. Part of me. I can explain everything, I can even show you, but I need you to stay. I need to talk this out with you. You need to know what happened in the orphanage.”

  “No, I don’t. I buried that. It’s dead.”

  “No it isn’t. I’m here. I’m your friend. And honestly, I need your help.”

  “I’m sorry, Edmund. I’ll help in any way I can. I’ll be your friend. I’ll help you in school. I’ll help you get laid. I’ll hold your head when you are drunk and vomiting. I’ll even get naked in bed with you when you show up as an ice ball, but I cannot, will not, help you with this.”

  Nicholas gave me an emotional “good luck” look and started rubbing his hands together nervously. It almost looked like he was going to say something else, but instead he pressed his lips into a hard line and turned toward the door.

  “Wait.” I almost whispered. “This isn’t all about me.”

  He froze with his back to me. “Then who is it about, Edmund?”

  “You.”

  “And how does this have anything to do with me?”

  “It concerns you, because it’s your life that’s in danger too.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Ruth,” I paused as his muscles tensed in response. “And some of the other orphans, the orphans that got away…” I couldn’t continue.

  “What about them?” His teeth were clenched again.

  “I think they were killed because of what happened. I think they are being targeted because something is going after everyone who survived.”

  “Targeted by what?”

  “That’s what we need to talk about.”

  Nicholas shut the door, and turned to look at me. “I don’t believe in the supernatural,” he lied. I found it particularly idiotic in light of the circumstances—ice ball and such.

  “You’re going to have to,” I responded.

  He walked to the bed and sat down, his shoulders slumping forward. “I don’t want to.”

  “I know.”

  Nicholas tensed as my phone buzzed to life.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “Hi, Edmund? It’s Father Paul. Do you have a second?”

  “Not a good time, Father.”

  I heard Nicholas grunt when he realized I was speaking to a priest. Today was not a good day for him.

  “I checked on those names, the survivors…” he trailed off, baiting me.

  “And?” I was impatient.

  “Well, this is a little strange. Do you remember a nun by the name of Mary Chantale?”

  How could I forget. My voice cracked as I responded. “Of course.”

  “It seems that all the orphans that survived the massacre and died recently had something in common: they were all in the same music class, Sister Chantale’s music class. Anyone not attached to her seems to be doing just fine.”

  “How many are dead?”

  “I can’t really tell you that.”

  “How many are still alive?”

  “Look, Edmund, I’m only telling you this because I want you to do something for me.”

  “Father?”

  “Only three children that had a music class with Sister Chantale are still alive. You, Nicholas, and Simon.”

  “Well, Nicholas is here with me, but Simon?”

  “Well, that is the weird one…”

  My heart almost stopped. “Father, I know of only one Simon at the orphanage, and he…” I didn’t finish my sentence.

  I could feel Nicholas look up at me when I said the name, and could tell he was angry. First, the supernatural, then a Catholic priest, and now the name of our childhood friend who died mysteriously at, as only I knew, the hand of a demon. I was a little shocked he hadn’t stormed out of the room yet.

  “Well, his last listed address is the same as the ex-Sister Mary Elizabeth.”

  “Sister Mary Elizabeth? Ex?” I had to swallow hard just to get the name out.

  “I’m going to give you the address, Edmund; but I’m also going to call ahead and let her know you are coming,” Father Paul added quickly. “Do you have a pen?”

  I grabbed one off my desk, and then nodded even though Father Paul couldn’t see me.

  “She lives in Los Angeles still, so it shouldn’t be too far a drive.”

  I jotted down the address on the cover of my American history book. Father Paul said a quick goodbye, but then followed it with a low mutter about how I should ensure I treated Mary Elizabeth with some dignity. I assured him I would, and hung up the phone just as Quon walked through the front door with Xia in tow.

  Quon’s dark eyes were filled with concern, but they softened when they saw I was out of bed.

  “The color came back,” he said in his Japanese accent. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  I had never actually seen Xia before, but I recognized her voice as the high-pitched voice I had heard when I first arrived in the room half-conscious and almost frozen. “I’m glad to see you’re… clothed,” she said.

  As angry as he was, Nicholas couldn’t help but snicker.

  “She’s just angry because you missed your date,” Quon winked at me. “She was very much looking forward to going out with you.”

  “Well, we skipped the date, but you did get to see me naked,” I jested.

  “That’s the perfect date in my mind,” Nicholas guffawed.

  Xia didn’t seem fazed at all by our exchange. She just glared at me from behind two beautiful, chocolate-brown eyes. I could go on and on about her amazingly shiny black hair that fell in carefully constructed ringlets around her soft skin, or how her long legs and netted stockings made her look almost as tall as her cousin Quon, or how she dressed just provocatively enough in a short skirt and baby doll tee to pique a man’s imagination without giving too much away, but it was her aura that really screamed beauty. She was literally on fire with radiant orange colors radiating from her. It was a wonder that no one else in the room could see it.

  An aura like that meant that she was aware of it and worked on it, like a body builder works on his muscles. I had no doubt that Xia had her own sort of connection to the supernatural. Though not quite flawless, her aura undoubtedly spoke of hours of concentration and communion with doorways she probably didn’t even know existed. Nicholas was right when he said I would be interested. What did he call her? Earthy? But it was much more than that.

  I’m sure she noticed the way I was staring at her, but her reaction was more reserved that it would have been had she caught someone staring at her body.

  “Blue,” she finally said.

  “Huh?”

  “You are blue; electric almost; very bright. When I first saw you, I thought it was because of the ice. I was wrong. The blue, as strong as your aura was then, is even bluer now.” Xia shivered, the hair on her arm standing on end. “Glacial,” she whispered.


  “Orange,” I said, “Like a sunset; almost flawless.”

  “Almost?” she mused.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Quon and Nicholas exchange a confused look. “What’d I tell you?” Quon laughed.

  “Oh brother. What have you done?” Nicholas chided in both exasperation and playfulness.

  “I’m Edmund,” I said.

  “Nice to meet you… finally.” She stepped around Quon and extended her hand. I must have felt like ice to her incredibly warm skin. I realized I still didn’t have my body temperature back up to normal.

  “Well, Quon, Xia, please sit down. I’m afraid I have some things to tell you, and whether you like it or not, you are a part of it.”

  Xia’s face almost exploded in delight. “See, I told you!” she jabbered at Quon. “This has something to do with that man that showed up with your phone doesn’t it, and the fact that you appeared out of thin air. Quon told me you were into some sort of witchcraft or something. Are you Wiccan? How long have you been practicing? You must be really strong to…”

  “Uh, no. Nothing like that. Not exactly,” I interrupted before she could get carried away. “I don’t really practice any belief system. They’re all standard sets of rules that have access to some truth while attempting to explain a bigger picture no one understands. To me, Wicca is just another religion.”

  Xia looked offended, but stopped talking.

  “But yes,” I continued. “This does have to do with all of that. There are beings that some could consider demons, and I’d assume, angels, but not in the way any religion prescribes. The definitions aren’t that easy.”

  “So all religions are wrong,” Nicholas stated, beaming. He jumped to a simple conclusion that fit him.

  “No, Nicholas. It’s more like... well...” I was having a hard time phrasing what I wanted to say. “What if all religions were stories, and all stories were true?”

  I watched as three expressions tried to grasp what I was saying. All I got was confusion.

  “Let me give you an example,” I said. “In Mormon theology, there are seven degrees of existence. They believe we existed before we came here, that’s one, and then we are here now, that’s two. After we die we go to something they call the spirit world that is divided into two sections, paradise and prison, that is three and four. Then, after the judgment and resurrection, we go to one of the three heavens Paul talked about. Remember that scripture we discussed in Sister Mary Elizabeth’s class, Nicholas? Three heavens. That makes five, six, and seven. Seven levels.

  “It is the same with the Catholics, at least before the Council of Trent. Four levels of hell, three levels of heaven. Seven.”

  “Christians believe only in three,” Nicholas stated matter-of-factly. “This existence, then heaven and hell.”

  “An oversimplification,” I stated. “The Christian bible says three heavens, just like any other.”

  “Buddhists believe in ten planes of existence,” Quon added.

  “Perhaps a complication of the truth. But even in those religions we see a seed of consistency. Reincarnation, for example. Every major religion believes in an eternal soul that will come back somehow. Sometimes on another level of existence; sometimes on the same one. Whether we come back as a spirit, as a resurrected or perfected being, or a cow, or a blade of grass, or as nothing more than intelligence—there is a thread of commonality.”

  “I think we get that you are saying that in these commonalities is where we find the real truth, Edmund,” Nicholas said, rolling his eyes. “So what?”

  “So what if those levels weren’t actual worlds, separate and distinct, but instead existed right here, right now, stacked on top of each other, with doorways between the worlds that allowed access to the gifts and abilities of that world. What if that is what ghosts are? Echoes from the other worlds. What if that is what magic is? A simple opening of the door to allow the abilities of another world into our own, maybe like a place where the laws of physics can be different.”

  “Sounds complicated,” Quon said.

  “Simpler than most religions,” Xia responded.

  “So what?” Nicholas reiterated.

  “So, Nicholas. The story I told you about in the orphanage is true.”

  “You were somehow reincarnated here, with some amazing gift to remember your past life?”

  “Not exactly. I’m not sure. Somehow this ring came with me,” I said, holding up my hand. “I don’t know exactly how the doorways work, or how the levels are interconnected, but what I do know is that demons are spiritual creatures from another level, a bloodthirsty and power-hungry level. I met one on my way home from Arizona. He destroyed my truck, and tried to kill me in the process. He told me that Joshua is trying to find a way into the other levels. I don’t know why, but it can’t be good.”

  “Now you’ve gone over my head,” Xia said sharply. “Who are you talking about?”

  “That’s why I needed you all to come together,” I responded. “I need to tell you my story. Hopefully, together, we can figure out what is going on. We need to do this. If we don’t, we won’t be able to save Nicholas’s life.”

  Fourteen

  Although he looked uncomfortable, Nicholas sat quietly with a dazed look on his face while I recounted my story. I started at the beginning, discussing briefly what I remembered about growing up in Orenda, which, sadly, wasn’t much anymore. I supposed I could blame that on the years I had lived since, and the fact that my existence there, I believed, wasn’t even an existence on this level. My memories as a child had grown fractured and dreamlike, but I was able to tell Quon, Xia, and Nicholas about my father, mother, Ralph, and Hailey.

  The exception was the two days before my death. Those memories were still just as vivid as they were on the first day I woke up in the orphanage. I recounted the details quickly but effectively, including the grass-growing test on the hillside right after Max’s encounter with the demon snake, the strange events surrounding my father’s death, and the book that Joshua stole from me.

  Xia interrupted there. “Wait. You actually died?”

  “I think so.”

  Her puzzled eyes were filled with excitement. “Then how did you end up here?”

  Nicholas scoffed. “You’re really buying into all of this, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t know exactly what to think, but I do know what I saw, Nicholas,” Xia chided. “Do I need to remind you that he dropped out of thin air?”

  Her retort caught Nicholas a bit off guard and I saw a moment of anger flash across his face. He wasn’t used to being challenged.

  I started talking before either of them could say anything else. “I don’t know how I got here,” I stated bluntly.

  As soon as I started talking again, Xia returned to hanging on every word and Nicholas went back to staring out the window. I slowed my story down as I talked about my few days at the orphanage. Nicholas didn’t have to feign interest as soon as I started talking about Sister Chantale and her son Simon. As soon as I said the names, his ears pricked up and he was sitting taller.

  I told them about how Sister Chantale was actually Simon’s mother. This was part of the story Nicholas had not previously heard. I told them about our conversation by the river and how the trees had shown me the story of Sister Chantale before she came to serve at the orphanage. When I recounted the events of Simon’s death, Nicholas turned green and finally looked at me. I paused when he looked like he was about to vomit.

  “Are you okay?” I asked sincerely.

  I could tell by his face that he was struggling with whether or not he wanted to answer my question. I had never seen him look so strained.

  “I saw that,” he finally blurted out.

  My mind whirled to the subject of Simon’s death as I tried to comprehend what he obviously thought was a great revelation.

  “I know you saw it,” I said, “I know you were there when Simon died. It must have been a horrific experience for you.”

 
“No,” Nicholas said, “I saw the shadow people.”

  “Shadow people?”

  And in that moment I understood: Nicholas had seen the disembodied energumen who had killed Simon.

  “You could see them?”

  Nicholas just nodded.

  “How long has it been since you’ve seen one of them?”

  Nicholas swallowed hard. “It had been a while, a year or two, until…”

  “Until what?”

  “Until you disappeared.”

  “So you’ve seen them recently?”

  “Every day this week, at least one.”

  “Where?”

  “On campus, in the dorms, at the mall…”

  “In this room?”

  Nicholas shook his head.

  “Then they are close. Do you know if they know you can see them?”

  “Come on, Edmund,” Nicholas’s demeanor changed and he was suddenly back to his old sarcastic self, “it’s just my eyes catching a moving shadow or something. Don’t make it a big deal.”

  I glanced at Xia, who was positively glowing with anticipation. Quon just yawned. “What’s the big deal about shadows anyway?” he asked wryly. “Everyone’s got one.”

  I ignored Quon completely. “Nicholas, I need you to stay with me here. Please stay with me. Do they know who you are?”

  I could see the wheels spinning in his head again as he shifted uncomfortably. He was debating about whether to tell me the truth or not.

  “The truth,” I demanded.

  “I only thought so once. They’ve always ignored me, always just been shadows.”

  “Except once,” I repeated.

  “Not recently. When I was little... it freaked me out.”

  “When?”

  “Right after I got adopted.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Come on, Edmund! What does it matter? I was a kid. I probably imagined the whole thing. We all know everything you are saying isn’t possible anyway. There is no such thing as magic or the supernatural or levels or demons or heaven or hell. It’s all make-believe. Intelligent people don’t need it.”