Jackal

by Jackal in the Mirror (retail) (epub)

  “You mean the Wiyot people?”

  “You’ve done your homework. Yes, the spirits of the native peoples permeate our atmosphere. The Wiyot considered this bay sacred. History tells us this part of the world remained hidden from outsiders until the mid-nineteenth century when Europeans took over.”

  “A difficult transition for the Wiyot, I’d imagine.”

  “As you’re well aware, the spirits of the dead, particularly those who are unhappy or in search of closure, have a propensity to stay behind. Most of the time their energy is interpreted as haunting places or objects. For folks like you and me, that energy manifests differently. Spirits entrust us with their desires and needs. They strive for a resolution, and use us as vehicles to accomplish that.”

  “Yes, I’ve had that experience.”

  “On the other hand, some spirits are not unhappy or desirous of anything, they simply don’t wish to depart. They’re not ready to leave this plane of existence, and their energy creates unexplained phenomena. Eureka was a lively port town in the nineteenth century, crowded with saloons, brothels, and other sordid establishments. History tells us that a tremendous amount of violence occurred in those days, people died terrible deaths, and as a result, many a place is haunted. Not to mention the old Victorian buildings, which lend themselves to stories of haunted houses inhabited by ghosts or evil spirits. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not saying that all the stories like the one of the woman who haunts the alley between H and I Streets are fabrications to entice tourists. Many of the stories are true, and the spirits do stay and visit us.”

  “You’ve seen them?”

  He nodded. “And I speak with them when they wish me to.” The waitress brought their orders and James took a sip of coffee. “I do like their coffee.”

  Sarah sipped hers. “It is good. These eggs look great.”

  “Wait till you taste them.” He dug in.

  She took a bite and savored it. “You’re right, they’re delicious.”

  James chewed and swallowed. “Anyway, some wandering, restless souls get attached to objects, places, or people. In your case, it appears that there’s someone attached to that book of poems and is using its energy to connect with you.”

  “I suspected as much. But why use a book and not simply converse with me? And, why this business of vanishing poems replaced by equally ephemeral chapters?”

  James laughed. “Raw talent, I might venture, in terms of your abilities. As much as you’ve been through, you’re still learning to harness your gift.”

  Sarah blushed.

  “No need for embarrassment. Quite the opposite, I’m paying you a compliment. I’ll take your raw talent any day. The world is full of charlatans claiming to be special. Rubbish.”

  “I’d like to understand more about it, though. Learn how it works, how come I have it—we have it, and others don’t.”

  “Understandable. Yet beware of too much dissection. It might interfere with the free flow of information if you anticipate or expect things to occur according to some other person’s research. Our abilities—yours and mine—are embedded in our being, our senses, our entire makeup, our DNA, and rational scientific explanations tend to fall short. At least in my opinion.”

  “I’m sure you’re right, but nevertheless—”

  “Let me give you a taste of the research behind psychics, mediums, and the like. Einstein is quoted as saying that ‘everything in life is a vibration’ given that everything is made up of atoms, molecules, etc. Atoms are in a constant state of motion, and depending on the speed of these atoms, things in our four-dimensional plane appear as a solid, liquid, or gas. Well, sound vibrates, even though we can’t see it or touch it. We simply hear it. For folks like us, we tune into the vibrations from another set of dimensions where the speed of the atoms or the energy, or whatever is there, travels at very different frequencies without the drag of time or location.”

  “Are you saying that’s how I can observe the future at times?”

  “Yes, obviously you can tune into other planes where the future becomes visible to you. That’s something I cannot do.”

  Sarah considered these revelations.

  He gave her a few seconds to mull things over before interrupting her thoughts. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask. When did you first realize you had these abilities?”

  She blinked a couple of times as she came back to the moment. “Uh, pretty early on, three, four years old.”

  “What could you do?”

  After some hesitancy, she said, “I’ve never spoken of this with anyone but my husband, Conrad.”

  “I didn’t mean to pry—”

  “It’s okay, James. It’s only, well, thinking of that time brings back memories and emotions that are…difficult.”

  “I’m sorry I asked.”

  “No need to apologize. Really.” She took a deep breath, stared out the window, and allowed herself to journey back to a never-forgotten childhood. “The way I remember it is that, somehow, I sort of knew what would happen in the near future, in the same way that I knew where my room was or the color of the sky. It came naturally to me. I didn’t think about it, it simply happened. I could see and hear ethereal beings around me, and I sensed—not sensed, but somehow witnessed things that happened to friends and family when I wasn’t present.”

  “Powerful indeed,” James said after a deep breath. “I can’t even fathom what that must’ve been like. What happened to make you withdraw?”

  “At age six, in the middle of a friend’s birthday party, I blurted out that her uncle had molested her. I didn’t use those exact words, but the effect was the same. They called me an evil liar and labeled me a witch. It got so bad, my parents felt compelled to move me away.”

  “And your well-meaning parents forced you to hide your gifts.”

  Sarah nodded. “I suppressed them my entire life, until a couple of years ago.”

  “How did you regain them?”

  “Angela, my husband’s long-deceased grandmother, who possessed many of the same attributes I have, brought me from Pasadena to Winthrop. It’s a beautiful place in the midst of the Cascades in Washington State.”

  “What was she after?”

  “As it turns out, the family had a long-standing secret. She needed her grandson—that’s my husband, Conrad—and his family to learn the history of their ancestors. He and I live, along with our children and grandchildren, in two beautiful Queen Anne style homes known as the twin houses. They were built in the 1800s and they’re exactly the same.”

  “Interesting. Why did Angela choose you?”

  “She met me in a dream. She was a psychic herself, and it turned out that we had something in common.”

  “Really?”

  “It’s a long story, it’ll bore you.”

  “No, trust me, it won’t.”

  “Well, short version, I helped a young boy who’d lost his hearing after a fall.”

  “You were a teacher?”

  “I was. Fortunately, I discovered he could hear certain tones, and he was fitted with specialized hearing aids. As it turns out, Angela knew his parents.”

  “I hope to hear the details of that story, someday, but now I understand the connection.”

  Sarah crossed her arms and leaned on the table. “Your turn James. Tell me about you.”

  “Fair enough. I also realized I was different from an early age. Unlike yours, my parents were delighted. As you can well imagine, where I was born and raised had a lot to do with that. Here in Eureka no one took it as odd.”

  “Everyone knew you were a psychic?” she asked with an inquisitive tilt of her head.

  “We didn’t call it that—special, was the word.”

  “What could you do?”

  “I cohabitate in both this and the spirit world.”

 
“All the time?”

  “Yes. For me it’s like living in two alternate worlds. One is right here in front of me with a table, utensils, a delicious breakfast and coffee, while the other hovers about, as if a cloud has descended and enveloped that other realm of reality to help me distinguish between the worlds I experience.”

  “You’ve lived like that since you were little? Existing in both?”

  James nodded. “I’ve never been alone. No idea what the feeling of being alone is like.” He laughed. “Don’t be so serious. It’s quite all right.”

  “Are you married?”

  “No. Never been. Every time I tried to develop an intimate relationship with a woman, her ancestors stepped in and made it difficult.”

  “Oh, James.” Sarah reached for his hand.

  He emitted a half-hearted chuckle. “Don’t get me wrong, Sarah. I’ve had several long-term relationships. I’m not celibate or virginal by any means. Been in love and enjoyed all that comes with it. It’s simply that when the time came to commit, the ancestral—let me find the best way to put this delicately—well, the ancestral baggage turned out to be too heavy.”

  “Ancestral baggage? What on earth do you mean?”

  “The ancestors of any bride-to-be made it abundantly clear that, if I married, they would move in right along with her, and I didn’t care to live with all of them day in and day out.”

  Sarah laughed. “Please forgive me, James. I’m not laughing at you. It’s just that the image you painted is, well, it’s comical. It would make a great movie.”

  James chortled. “Yeah, imagine the title on the marquee: Me, my Bride, and Her Dead Relatives.”

  “It must’ve been confusing when you were little to live in these two worlds.”

  “Not really. That was my reality and I enjoyed it.”

  “I take it you’re retired?”

  “You’re curious about what I did to earn a living.”

  “And if you ever left Eureka.”

  “An attorney. That’s what I did, criminal law to be exact. And yes, I left Eureka for many years, and yes, the ability to live in both worlds followed me everywhere. Guess where I went.”

  Sarah stared into his deep blue eyes and squinted in a mock attempt to read his mind.

  “C’mon Sarah. It can’t be that hard for you.” He took a deep breath and exhaled. “Let it seep in. Allow the whisper to penetrate.”

  Sarah’s eyes widened in surprise. “You also feel the whisper?”

  “The private whisper that speaks deep within us.”

  “All right,” Sarah sighed and closed her eyes. “You went back east…To D.C., and after that to Europe. The Hague.” She sat back, her eyes wide open. “Oh! You’re the James Horton.”

  “Well done, my dear. You’ve read about me, then.”

  “Well, of course. Who hasn’t? You were the golden boy of the courts. My father idolized you. He used to read your arguments aloud and we’d discuss them in detail.” She shook her head. “This is amazing, I’m sitting with the James Horton.”

  “Your father was a lawyer?”

  “He was in corporate law, mind you, but he was fascinated by many court cases in The Hague. He truly admired you. You were infallible.”

  “I’ve put my gift to good use.”

  “I’ll say you have. Oh, my goodness. I’m in shock. I can’t believe I’m friends with the James Horton.”

  “Simply ‘James’ will do. All that is in the past. These days I’m a happily retired resident of Eureka, well, actually Ferndale, who volunteers at the Booklegger bookstore, and helps the cops here and there.”

  “You’re a legend, James.”

  “Enough, Sarah. Really.” He snatched up the bill, rose to his feet, and extended a hand to help Sarah up. “Let’s get a bit of fresh air. How about we take a stroll around Old Town Eureka?”

  4

  The Decision

  “Eureka’s Old Town,” said James as they strolled down Second Street, “is listed as a National Historic and Cultural Arts District. It’s the touristy spot of the area. The rest of Eureka is like any other town, nothing special. But here, as you can see, it has retained much of the flavor of its Victorian architecture, and is full of gift shops, museums, antique stores, and restaurants, all within walking distance. And of course, the famous Carson Mansion, which is an absolute masterpiece of Victorian splendor. All in all, there are more than 1,000 Victorian homes in Eureka and Ferndale. I’m lucky enough to live in one of them.”

  “I’d love to see it.” She hesitated a moment. “Gee, I didn’t mean to invite myself to your home.”

  “Don’t be silly. Of course you must visit. Only I’m fearful that your whole purpose for being here could be derailed if you do. The force within and around your book is quite adamant against it. Maybe later, when things settle down. When do your friends arrive?”

  “Later this evening.”

  “Well, maybe after they leave. My only advice is to keep the book to yourself. Don’t share it with them. It might disturb the communication.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “I get the feeling the entity, or entities, attached to this book are shy, or afraid, or insecure. I’m not exactly sure what it is, but it emanates those kinds of emotions.”

  “Can you see them?”

  “No, not at all,” he said, with a hint of frustration. “I can only feel the energy.”

  “Why do you suppose that is?”

  “Who can say? But it’s clear they’re hiding something.”

  “Hiding something? How can you tell?”

  “The on-again-off-again manifestation and disappearance of the story is a bit of a clue.”

  “A clue…”

  “They’re sharing information with you, but at the same time they’re fearful or timid about what you might discover.”

  Sarah inhaled deeply and walked in silence for a good while. James respected her need to process the information. She slowed her steps, glancing over at him. “Are you familiar with a woman named—”

  “No names, Sarah.” He smiled and strode on.

  She caught up and walked alongside him. “Okay. How about this, is there a lake nearby?”

  “Yes, Ruth Lake, a couple of hours southeast. It’s actually the reservoir of the Mad River.”

  “The Mad River, what a name! Where did it come from?”

  “The story goes that the men who found the river, back in the nineteenth century when it was a mere stream, argued about its exact latitudinal position. Anyway, a heated argument ensued, and given the anger expressed by both sides, they named it the Mad River.”

  “Anything special about the lake?”

  “Special, as in beautiful? Yes, it’s lovely. Otherwise, it’s an ordinary lake.”

  She frowned. “It’s puzzling. I can’t make sense of the story or what it wants from me.”

  “Don’t rush it. Let it develop at the speed it needs. Have you experienced anything similar before?”

  “Nothing exactly like this, no. I’ve witnessed life stories emanating from old photographs, all enabled by Angela. I also read, or watched, a screenplay in my mind.”

  “A screenplay? That’s a new one for me. How come a screenplay?”

  “Alexander, the spirit behind it all, had written a screenplay about a series of events that had traumatized a young boy. He insisted I needed to read—well, watch—the movie in my head to understand and help the boy, who by then was a man. Alexander needed his forgiveness.”

  “Did you help?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did the entire screenplay appear in your mind?”

  “Yes. Or rather, the entire movie played out.”

  “Slow process I would imagine, one or two scenes at a time.”

  “Yes.”

  “A scree
nplay is long. Movies last around two hours. So you’ve had practice waiting and letting the story develop.”

  She shrugged. “I have, although I was very impatient and on edge most of the time. My husband had his hands full trying to keep me calm.”

  “I can imagine. One more question, have you ever had an out-of-body experience with a living person?”

  “You mean when I become someone else?”

  “In a way, except you remain who you are. You simply enter the other person’s reality. You experience what they are undergoing as it’s happening.”

  “Yes, only once. For a few hours I experienced what an amnesiac was enduring. Why?”

  “I suspect it may happen to you again.”

  Sarah stopped in her tracks and turned to James. “Why?”

  His eyes became fixed on some distant point and he shook his head. “I’m not sure, but there’s a very strong pull around you. As if someone is trying very hard to pull you away from me, away from here. I don’t sense evil in the intent, only fear and deep, deep sadness.” He faced her and took her hand. “Be aware.”

  Sarah hesitated. “Of what?”

  “Not sure, but keep your guard up. Let the information come through, but don’t react impulsively.”

  She placed her hand over his. “James, meeting you has been extraordinary. Your comfort with all these events that surround us is so admirable.”

  “I’m simply used to it. Don’t worry, you’ll get there.”

  “I wish I could bottle you and take you with me.”

  “That would be quite a feat.” He laughed. “In the meantime, I suggest you go back to your hotel and give the book a chance before your friends get here. If you ignore it for it too long it might get upset, particularly if the story has pressing matters to attend to.”