Until It Sleeps

by Val Crowe

  “But I told her that Kadan was okay.”

  “She’s… she’s not nearly as well-formed as some of the other spirits we’ve come across. You’re making her stronger, and she’s getting better at forming thoughts and words, but she’s… she’s just a phantom. She’s just a bundle of concern. She needs to see that Kadan is okay.”

  “We’ll bring him to the house,” I said.

  “I don’t know if that’ll be enough,” said Mads. “She needs to see that he’s taken care of and loved. I think she’s convinced that Tex has Kadan, and that Kadan is in danger.”

  “Murder,” I said. “Safe.” I pounded the steering wheel. “She’s been trying to tell us this from the beginning, but I didn’t understand.”

  “Yeah,” said Mads. “I mean, I can’t be sure, but that’s what I think it’s all about.”

  “Okay,” I said, “but how do we show her that Kadan’s safe? We can’t get her out of the house. That’s the whole problem. She’s haunting the house.”

  “Well, maybe we could get her to attach to something else,” said Mads. “Like when you got the spirits at Point Oakes to attach to your mom’s trailer.”

  “We need an object that has powerful spiritual residue,” I said. “Something that was involved in a violent—” I broke off, and I knew what we needed. “The gun.”

  “I think that’s why Tex is trying to get Philip to find it,” said Mads. “He knows that we could use it to get the spirits out of the house.”

  “Yeah, and he’d probably rather stay there and try to attract more energy.”

  “Probably,” agreed Mads.

  “So, what do we do?” I said. “Do we go in there and tear the place apart, looking for the gun?”

  “We could do that,” said Mads. “Or you could go talk to the person who knows what he did with the gun.”

  “Tex?” I said. “You think he’ll just tell me where the murder weapon is? Why would he?”

  “Well, it won’t be eligible as evidence after you put your fingerprints all over it and move it,” said Mads. “So, you know, maybe he might.”

  I sighed. That was a long shot. A crazy long shot.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  By the time I got to the jail where Tex was being held, I remembered the visitor’s list. I also remembered that I’d filled out a form to request being on Tex’s visitor’s list. I bet he hadn’t accepted my request, though.

  But… surprise, surprise, he had.

  Of course, visitor’s hours didn’t start until 10:00 that day.

  So, I had some time to kill.

  I went to a nearby diner and ate a big stack of pancakes with a side of bacon.

  It still wasn’t 10:00. I considered going back to the house and seeing if I couldn’t find the gun, but I wasn’t sure if Philip wouldn’t succeed in strangling me this time.

  I waited.

  Eventually, they let me in to see Tex.

  We were on opposite sides of a glass panel. We each had a phone.

  Tex had shaved his head since being arrested, and he also had cut the arms off of his jumpsuit to show off his muscles. Dude was ripped. I thought it would be against prison regulations to screw with your uniform like that, but what did I know? Maybe they were short on funding and couldn’t give him a new jumpsuit.

  He sat down and smirked at me.

  I already had the phone to my ear.

  He surveyed his, as if he was considering picking it up, and then he slowly brought it to his ear.

  “You’re the baby daddy’s friend, right?” he said by way of greeting. “They tell me you’re a psychic or some shit.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “What do you want?”

  “I want the gun you used to shoot Cheyenne,” I said.

  “Cheyenne shot herself.”

  “Well,” I said, “if the police ever find that gun, then they might be able to know that for sure. There’s probably evidence on that gun. I watch those TV shows. Even if you wipe something down real good, trace DNA is a bitch.”

  “Cheyenne shot herself,” he repeated, more slowly.

  “If you tell me where the gun is, though, the police will never find it. Or even if they do, I will have fucked up the evidence on it so much as to have made it useless.”

  He furrowed his brow. “Why would you do something like that?”

  I had been unsure how I would handle that question, but considering that he already thought I was a psychic, I’d just tell the truth. “I want to tie the ghosts in the house to an object with a lot of spiritual energy, and that’s going to fit the bill. It’s the only way I can clear the house of any lingering spirits.”

  He sat back in his chair, just giving me a funny grin.

  “You probably think I’m crazy,” I said. “But you should pretend to believe in ghosts, anyway, if you want to keep your story believable. You always said the house was haunted.”

  He chuckled softly. “This is a trick. You’re fucking with me.”

  “I’m serious as hell,” I said. “There is a woman in labor in the hospital right now, and she’s not going to have a home to bring her baby to or a husband besides if I don’t fix this house.”

  He leaned close again. “If you think is haunted, how do you know that Cheyenne didn’t get snuffed out by ghosts?”

  “Because I’ve seen things in the house,” I said. “Seen you dragging her around by the hair, telling her she needs to tell you where it is, stuff like that. Heard the way you talk to her.”

  “I never did anything like that,” said Tex. “If that kid is telling you stuff, he always had a pretty active imagination.”

  “No, he didn’t tell me,” I said. “It’s like you said, I’m psychic.”

  “Yeah, okay,” said Tex. “Whatever. You must think I’m an idiot.”

  “I know what you did to her,” I said. “All I want to know is where the fucking gun is.”

  “Yeah, well, too bad,” said Tex, and he looked rattled. He hung up the phone and stood up to call for a guard.

  I stood up too. I pounded on the glass. “Talk to me, Tex.”

  But the guard took him away, and Tex gave me a wary look as he walked away.

  * * *

  “Well, that went well,” I muttered as I got back into the truck.

  “I thought he’d go for it,” said Mads.

  “I didn’t,” I said. “I shouldn’t have bothered with that. I’ve got to go back into that house and deal with Philip. That’s all I can do now.”

  “What if he hurts you?” said Mads.

  “Wren’s having a baby,” I said.

  “Oh, your phone rang while you were in the prison,” said Mads.

  I hadn’t brought it inside. I thought they might make me leave it behind or something, so I’d put it in the glove compartment of my car.

  I had a voicemail. It was from Wren.

  “Hey, Deacon,” she said. “I just wanted you to know that I’m only two centimeters dilated, so they told me I could go home. I had my sister pick me up, and I’m going to labor at her house for a few hours. I really need Phil. You have to get him out of the house. I can’t do this without him.”

  Great.

  “What’d she say?” asked Mads.

  “Something about dilated and two centimeters,” I said.

  “Oh, that’s not much,” said Mads. “You can walk around like that for weeks and not really be in labor.”

  “Okay,” I said. I didn’t know any of this crap.

  She furrowed her brow. “I wonder how I know that.”

  Because she obviously had some former life where she’d had children or something, and I… man, did I have any right to think that she and I—

  “Anyway, did they send her home?” said Mads.

  “Yeah,” I said. “She said her sister picked her up. She wants me to get Philip. She says she needs him.”

  “We have to go back to the house,” said Mads. “It’s like you said.”

  “Yeah,” I said,
“and hope that Philip doesn’t have the real gun this time.”

  Mads swallowed. “Wait, there’s got to be some other way. We need to know where Tex put the gun. There were three people in that house when he hid it. Tex won’t tell and Cheyenne is dead and out of her mind, not nearly capable of communicating something like that. But Kadan might know.”

  I sighed. “Wade’s never going to agree to us asking Kadan about it. Besides, I doubt he even has Kadan.” Actually, though, I remembered that Kadan was staying the night with Wade last night, and that it was the first time that he was going to get a chance to do that. And that today, they were going to be taking more stuff from Wade’s old apartment to the new place. They’d be moving in there soon. “Wait,” I said. “He does. Kadan’s with him right now.”

  “So, call him,” said Mads.

  “No, I should ask in person,” I said. “It’ll be harder for him to turn me down in person.”

  * * *

  Wade and Kadan weren’t at Wade’s current apartment, so I drove the truck over to the new place. There, I found them carting boxes up the steps together.

  I stood at the bottom of the steps and peered up.

  Kadan was saying something. It sounded like it had something to do with farts.

  And then he and Wade both exploded into laughter.

  I grinned, enjoying the sound of their laughter. Wade wouldn’t be laughing after I told him all of this.

  They came down the stairs—they were covered and attached to the side of the building but open to the air. Wade saw me. “Deacon? You’re still here?”

  I raised a hand in greeting. “Hey, man. I got a favor to ask you.”

  Wade raised his eyebrows. “Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this favor you’re going to ask me?”

  “Because you’re not,” I said. “It’s about Kadan.”

  “What about Kadan?” Wade turned to look at his son. Then he turned back to me. “Wait, don’t say anything in front of him. Wait a minute.” Wade slung an arm around Kadan and led him back up the steps.

  “Am I supposed to stay here or follow you?” I called.

  “Yeah, come on up,” Wade called, but he didn’t turn to look at me.

  Once in the apartment, Wade set Kadan up with his tablet and made him put on headphones so that he couldn’t hear us. And then Wade and I went into the kitchen while Kadan was in the living room.

  “Okay,” said Wade, leaning up against the counter in the kitchen. The counter was covered in boxes that contained newspaper-wrapped plates and kitchen gadgets. “What’s this all about?”

  “Look, it’s about what Kadan saw after his mom was killed,” I said.

  “No,” said Wade. “Forget it. We’re not traumatizing him anymore with questions. This is done. You said that you released his mom’s spirit, anyway.”

  “Yeah, about that,” I said. “Not so much.”

  “She’s still trapped in that house?”

  I nodded. “Yep.”

  “Well, shit, dude. What did you do wrong?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “You know I’m just playing guess and check here, right? I thought it was over. It’s not. And here’s the thing. The spirits have gotten into Philip’s head.”

  “Who’s Philip?”

  “Philip Bentley, the guy who owns the house now. He’s lost it. The last time I saw him, he tried to kill me.”

  “Oh, well, that’s great.”

  “And his wife is labor right now.”

  “What?” Wade’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Well, maybe not totally labor, but she’s having contractions and she’s dilated and stuff, whatever that means.”

  Wade folded his arms over his chest. “I don’t care about any of this.”

  “Oh, come on, Wade, this pregnant woman begged me to save her husband. She needs him. She can’t have the baby on her own.”

  “Sure, she can.”

  “Wade, please.”

  “No,” said Wade. “No, no, and no.”

  I sighed. I had pretty much figured it was going to go like this. I squared my shoulders. “Look, dude, I bet you wish that you’d been there when Kadan was born.”

  Wade stuck his finger in my face. “Don’t try that. That’s not going to work.”

  “If you could turn back time and be there, wouldn’t you want to be there?”

  “Stop it.”

  “We’re keeping a father from the birth of his child.”

  “It’s not us,” said Wade, gesturing back and forth between us. “It’s those ghosts. It has nothing to do with us.”

  “If we could just talk to Kadan—”

  “We? Who’s we? You and me?”

  “No, me and Mads.”

  “Mads…” He furrowed his brow.

  “She’s the ghost,” I said. “I told you about her.”

  “She talked to Kadan before,” said Wade.

  “That’s right,” I said.

  “So, what, she’s like… your sidekick or something?”

  I licked my lips. “It’s funny, because she and I actually joked about—”

  “Or your friend?” he said. He raised his eyebrows. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about her?”

  “I…” I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “But she’s like around, all the time? Is she here right now?”

  I turned to look around. “No, not right now. She likes to give me privacy when I’m trying to have difficult conversations. It’s really hard to talk when she’s talking to me too. It gets confusing.”

  “So, she talked to him before, right?” said Wade. “Let’s ask him what he wants to do.”

  I smiled. “Seriously? Thank you so much, Wade.”

  “If he says no, then it’s off. You don’t mention it again.”

  “Got it,” I said.

  Wade left the kitchen.

  I trailed behind him.

  Wade crossed the living room to where Kadan was sitting on the couch and sat down next to him. He touched Kadan’s shoulder, because Kadan was so immersed in the game that he hadn’t looked up.

  Kadan pulled out his headphones. “I think it’s bullshit you guys won’t tell me what you were talking about, especially if it’s about me.”

  “Don’t say bullshit,” said Wade. “Your grandmother wouldn’t like that.”

  “But it is, though,” said Kadan.

  “Okay,” said Wade. “We were talking about having you talk about what you saw when your mother died again. That something you think you want to do?”

  “Well, not really,” said Kadan.

  “Okay, then,” said Wade.

  My shoulders sagged.

  Kadan furrowed his brow. “Why do you want me to, though?”

  “I don’t want you to,” said Wade. He pointed at me. “It’s Deacon that wants it.”

  “If you talk to us, you can help the people who are living in the house now,” I said. “And help your mom, too.”

  “She still hasn’t moved on?” said Kadan.

  I shook my head.

  Kadan sat up straight. “Okay, ask me anything. What you do want to know?”

  “You don’t have to do this,” said Wade.

  Kadan nodded. “Yes, I do.”

  Mads appeared on other side of Kadan. She gave him a little wave. “You want to talk to me?”

  Kadan smiled at her. “Yeah. I’d rather talk to you than anyone else.”

  “Talk to who?” said Wade, nostrils flaring. “There’s no one there.”

  * * *

  Wade was back in the kitchen. He was rummaging through boxes and unwrapping plates before putting them in cabinets. We had decided to give Mads and Kadan some privacy.

  “So, this Mads ghost chick?” said Wade, crumpling newspaper that had been wrapped around a coffee mug. “What’s she look like?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” I said.

  “Kadan said she was pretty. The pretty lady, he called her.” Wade turned to me, ey
ebrows raised. “Is she pretty?”

  “Sure.” I shoved my hands in my pockets.

  “Dude, why didn’t you tell me about her?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. It never came up.”

  “Because it’s something weird with you and her, isn’t it? Some otherworldly perverse thing.”

  “No,” I said. I was blushing. I looked at my shoes.

  “Was it going on when you punched me for sleeping with Olivia?”

  “There’s nothing going on,” I said, defensive. I was still looking at my shoes.

  “She’s not going to do anything weird to Kadan, is she?”

  “Of course not.” This time, I did look at him.

  Wade deposited a stack of plates in a cabinet and shut the door. He turned to survey me. “So, uh, what? Is it like the world’s worst long distance relationship? You just watch each other masturbate, like you’re having Skype sex?”

  “She’s a ghost, Wade,” I said. “And she’s just… she’s my friend, that’s all. I don’t want to talk about this.”

  “I bet you don’t,” he said. “It doesn’t sound healthy to me.”

  “Seriously, Wade, drop it.”

  “It’s just you and her on the road in that Airstream all the time. She’s not even real. This… I don’t know, it’s disturbing.”

  “She’s real,” I muttered. “And it’s not like you have a sterling record when it comes to women. So, seriously, let it go.”

  His lips parted.

  I looked away.

  “You just admitted it,” he said.

  “Wade, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to punch you again.”

  “Oh, try it,” he said. “This time, I’ll fight back, asshole.”

  I clenched my hands into fists, but I didn’t move.

  He stared me down.

  We were quiet for a long time.

  “Cut her loose,” said Wade, turning back to his boxes. “Tell her to go hang out with Casper or something. Bring someone who’s alive along with you for once.”

  “Just… you don’t get it, okay?”

  “You know what I get?” He picked up a newspaper-wrapped bowl and began unwrapping it. “That you don’t live a normal life. You don’t have connections. You don’t have ties. You don’t have, you know, roots.”

  “So?”

  “So, sometimes you gotta live in the real world, Deacon.”