True Mate

by Patricia Logan

  “Why?” I asked, startled. “I mean, first of all, I didn’t realize we have a squatter’s camp, and second, why on earth would the sheriff give up the search? Why weren’t the Feds called in? The FBI specializes in finding missing and lost kids. They even have a rapid response team who will drive into town or even fly here if necessary.”

  “The sheriff dismantled the camp once the boy went missing. He ran them off, oddly enough, with the help of Floyd and his enforcers. They weren’t more than a few families of homeless folks—hobos really. I think they were migrant farm laborers who moved up and down the state, only staying in one place for a week at a time and following the harvests. They were harmless but the sheriff wanted them gone after the boy was reported missing. Honestly…” Sally sighed deeply. “I think the sheriff really dropped the ball on this one. Once the parents reported the boy missing, we searched everywhere we could think of. The local Methodist church even organized their congregation to look for the little guy, but after a few days, I could tell the sheriff didn’t want to bother with it no more.”

  “At the very least, I see that as a total dereliction of his duties. He should have called in the FBI or at least, involved the Stockton police and their resources.”

  “I agree and I suggested it. My suggestion was shot down and since I need this job, I didn’t push harder. I still have nightmares about not having done more. In fact, not long after the boy first went missing, and the sheriff gave up, I organized a few of the local shifters to see if we could pick up a scent trail.”

  “And? No luck?” I asked.

  Sally’s lips thinned but she kept her gaze on the road ahead as she drove. “I think the werewolves contaminated the scene. If there had been a crime or abduction, the shifters would have picked up a scent. We went in as soon as the hobos moved on, but we could only pick up the scent of the wolves. It was very strong. We soon realized that the only reason we’d even picked up their scent at the camp was because it had been left there to intentionally confuse shifters if and when we went in to try to track the boy.”

  “What the hell?” I exclaimed. “Do you think the sheriff ordered this? Was he somehow in on the abduction, and then used Floyd’s wolves to cover up the wrongdoing?”

  “Honestly, I’m not sure about being in on the abduction but as far as the contamination went, I think so, yeah. I mean, I could never look at or think of Sheriff Willis in the same light after that. I blamed him for the loss of that little soul.”

  “Well, if that little ghost Vincent saw was that boy, it means he’s dead.”

  “Yeah, it does but it means more than that, Sheriff Rome.”

  “What?”

  “It means his body is somewhere it won’t be found. Specters that appear dark like the one you’re describing mean that they’re traumatized and are forever trapped in a shadowy place of utter despair. I’m so sorry for that little one. It breaks my heart.”

  My own heart squeezed. “I have another question. You’re welcome to think I’m crazy, but I have to ask.”

  “Okay. Shoot,” she said. I liked my deputy a whole lot.

  “Go back to the way we found Sheriff Willis’ body with no footprints.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Remember when we were still in the mine before the doc brought his corpse out…remember how I said, it was like someone must have floated him in?”

  “Yeah…oh…yeah!” she said, dragging her eyes off the road for a second. They were as round as saucers when she returned her gaze to the windshield. “Are you thinking a ghost could have put the sheriff’s body in there?”

  I shrugged. “It crossed my mind but then again, I’m most likely crazy to entertain such thoughts.”

  She shook her head, and I saw her smile in profile. “I don’t think you’re crazy at all. I think that sounds more than plausible.”

  I sat back and turned to look at the sequoias as we passed through town. Maybe I was on to something. I had no idea. I only wished I knew more about ghosts. I turned to Sally. “Do you know we have a medium in town?”

  “A medium what?”

  I chuckled. “A person who can pick up on psychic things…a medium.”

  She laughed and grinned over at me. “You know more about the stuff that goes on in this town after two weeks than I do having lived here for years. It’s amazing. Tell me about this medium.” She returned her eyes to the road.

  “His name is Scott, and he works for Vincent at the antique’s store.”

  “Oh, yeah, Scott Templeton. I know him. He’s a medium?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, he’d know something about spirits and ghosts then,” Sally said.

  I smiled, relaxing back in my seat. “Yeah, Sally, that’s just what I was thinking. If we have time today, I’d like to stop in and talk to him after we’re through in Frederick.”

  “Okay. Good idea.”

  We pulled onto the road leading deep into the woods, and I mentally braced myself for the confrontation I was about to have with Floyd. I was pretty sure it wasn’t going to go well. Not at all.

  Chapter Eleven

  Prosper Woods Chronicle. Letters to the editor:

  “Prosper Woods really needs a traffic light or two. Last night I was driving down main street when I was cut off by a horse and buggy. Why didn’t anyone tell me them things are translucent in the moonlight? Kinda scary when all you got is a Buick and no stoplight.” Signed, “Scornful of speeding specters.”

  Vincent

  Scott was unpacking a blue carnival glass candy dish when I walked in. He and Bryce had slowly but surely been making their way through the boxes we’d yet to unpack. My store in South Carolina had slightly more square footage of floor space than this one in Prosper Woods but I felt this layout worked to my advantage. Any antique store I’d ever shopped in had been crammed with goods, those owned outright or those which were taken in on consignment.

  It was what had attracted me to the business to start with. I liked the feeling of walking into a store and putting my eyes to work to take in everything on offer. In my experience, it made people stay around longer and when customers did that, they usually ended up buying something.

  “Good morning,” Scott said, looking up from his unwrapping and smiling broadly.

  “Hello.” I glanced around, noticing that he’d finished several boxes which now lay empty in the aisle. The store wasn’t due to open for another couple of hours, and Scott was early. “Someone’s been an early bird.”

  “I like to get a jump on things and see what I can get done before store hours.” Scott looked around also. “I think we’re nearly there with the glassware.” He pointed to a box. “That’s the last one, and then I can start in on the boxes of quilts and other fabric pieces.” He looked back to me. “How are you?”

  I walked over to him and picked up the lid of the candy dish, admiring it before glancing up at him. Scott was an older man, probably mid-sixties, though, he looked older with his spectacles and gray hair.

  “I wanted to see how you’re doing after your fall, Scott.”

  The man flushed. “I’m so sorry about that. I have no idea what happened.”

  I raised both hands. “It’s fine, Scott. It’s not your fault. I should have been here to help you.”

  “Well, it’s embarrassing. I’m perfectly healthy. I don’t know what came over me. I was unpacking those exquisite volumes, and then suddenly, I was on the floor.” He glanced toward the bookshelf before looking back at me. “I’m sorry I got that box confused with your private collection. They really are too exquisite for customers. I’m relieved you took them home with you.”

  I was relieved too. The moment Sergio and the others had been compelled to leave town, I’d packed up the ancient vampire tomes and taken them home. They were now locked safely in my underground room where no one would find them. Before Sid left the store that day, the witch had put a spell around the books that made it impossible to find them even if someone were looking. I had
no idea how magic like that worked, but he assured me the books would be safe as long as I had them.

  “I am too,” I said. I cleared my throat, a little uncomfortable with how to approach the fact that I was standing in front of a man who claimed to be a medium. He was watching me closely.

  “I have a feeling you have something to ask me, Mr. Lasco,” Scott said. “Go ahead. I’m an open book.” He smiled encouragingly.

  “Well, I understand that you talked to the sheriff about how you are a…how do I put it?”

  Charlatan? Fraud? Faker?

  “A liaison between the living and the dead? Yes, I am.”

  “A…liaison…between ghosts?” My glare bore into him as I tried to decipher whether he was taunting me or just being gauche.

  “… and the living, yes, but I prefer to call myself someone who is sensitive to beings and creatures who are not human…paranormals in general.”

  I straightened. “Paranormals in general? You know about what? Shifters?”

  “And vampires, and ghosts, and werewolves, yes.”

  I cleared my throat again. “I see. So, you talk to the dead?”

  “Mr. Lasco, I don’t mean to be too forward, but I believe it’s clear that I’m talking to you.”

  I frowned.

  “You are dead, are you not?”

  I never liked that term. Honestly, I didn’t exactly think of myself as dead, though, it was true that my heart wasn’t beating anymore.

  “Well, dead is a vulgar way of saying it,” I finally settled on.

  “Oh.” Scott suddenly frowned. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Lasco. How…er…is there a term you find more palatable?”

  “Vampire is fine but please don’t call me the “undead.” That’s a little too Barnabas Collins-y, it’s more than I can stomach.”

  Scott suddenly laughed. “Or Boris Karloff-y.”

  I grinned, easing into this conversation finally. “Heavens no. I’ve never owned a cape in my life, and I certainly can’t sprout wings. I’ll leave that to the shifters in Prosper Woods, though, I don’t think I’ve met a bird yet.”

  “We have a bird.”

  My eyes widened. “A bird? What kind?”

  Scott leaned forward and lowered his voice to a whisper even though we were the only ones in the store. “He made me promise not to tell.”

  “I see. So, it’s a man and…”

  Scott held up his hand. “I’ve said too much already.”

  I chuckled. I was really beginning to like this guy. I really hoped his abilities—and I still wasn’t sure he was a hundred percent legit—weren’t going to pose any danger to Romeo. That’s the only thing I cared about.

  “You are suspect of my abilities, aren’t you?”

  “You know I’m vampire which means you understand that I am old. I’ve run across mediums many times.” I lifted my hand as he started to protest. “Liaisons…sorry.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “In any case, people who do what you do were very popular in the early part of this century. They were nothing more than attractions at carnivals and the like. I hope you don’t hold that against me. It’s only an observation,” I said.

  “No, it’s perfectly legitimate. I’m not unaware that many people like me have had terrible reputations, some of them for good reason. I’m not one of those, Mr. Lasco.”

  “I’m sorry but please explain the difference,” I said, trying to keep my tone light which wasn’t easy for the warrior in me.

  “Well, that’s a legitimate question,” Scott said. “For one thing, I’ve never profited from my abilities. I don’t charge people for readings or sell anything. I don’t collect money for what I do. In fact, I don’t advertise what I am or what I do at all. I’m pretty sure the only reason you know what I am is because your unicorn told you that I spoke to him. Right?”

  I nodded. “Yes. He mentioned that you talked.”

  “Well, I only told him because I want him to know…I want both of you to know…that I am in your corner. A time may come when I can help you out.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “Perhaps you can help me in fact.”

  “Anything.”

  “Are you aware that there is an old drive-in just at the edge of town between my house and Prosper Woods?”

  “Yes, I am.” He smiled. “I also know that lately it’s been a hub of activity.”

  “Activity?” I wondered. “I saw something the other day.”

  “The ghosts?”

  My eyes widened. “Yes! You saw them then? I’m not crazy?”

  “No. When you’re a person with a sixth-sense, you see ghosts all the time. I can literally feel their vibrations when they’re anywhere in my vicinity.”

  “So, you saw them that night?” It felt good to know that someone else had seen them. I wanted to have an extra layer of certainty when I went back to Romeo. Obviously, he’d believed me but still, it was good to know I hadn’t been alone in what I’d witnessed. I wondered how many other town residents had seen the ghosts or the little one who’d separated himself from the others.

  “I saw them that night, and I’ve seen them on other occasions as well,” Scott said confidently.

  “You have? Well, I can’t say I’m not relieved to hear it.”

  “They seem to manifest in large groups, other than a little one who always stays separate. I’m not convinced he’s with the others at all. He has no color like the vibrancy of the other specters.”

  “Right. I saw him there. He was a smoky gray, not a translucent ghost-like color. What do you suppose that means?”

  “I’m afraid I know what it means,” Scott said, frowning.

  “What? Tell me. I’m so curious about all this.” I really was.

  “That little one was never a part of the group of others. The others—the ones who seem to be carefree—those are all connected to each other.”

  “Can you please explain that?”

  “They have community ties in death like they had in life. The children run and play. The adults talk and laugh together like they would have in life. The little one either never had a connection to them or he tried to but was cast out of their group. I have the feeling that it is the former. I think he was always a separate little person.”

  “A child?”

  “Oh, yes, most definitely, a child.”

  “So, why the smoky color?” This was so interesting. No one had ever explained ghosts to me before.

  “He appears separate from the others and a smoky color because he exists in a world of such sorrow that neither you nor I can even fathom it.”

  “Why?”

  “In my experience, ghosts in this state of being exist apart from the others because their corpses were never found,” Scott said. “They died alone and weren’t ever laid to rest. It makes you understand why humans go through so much effort to give our dead a solid funeral...to gather friends to remember a loved one. Even if it means having someone who cared for the dead in life, saying a few words over a hastily dug grave after death. Those kinds of rituals are incredibly important to the dead.”

  “I had no idea,” I said, honestly.

  “It’s true,” Scott said, nodding. “So, that leads me to believe that the little one was left unclaimed or unfound, perhaps dying all alone. He’s walking in between worlds. He can’t even live on the ghostly plane because he doesn’t belong with the others.”

  “I’m confused,” I said. “I thought all ghosts are living in between worlds, unable to move on to Heaven or Hell which is why they haunt the living.”

  Scott smiled. “Who’s to say that there are only two choices?”

  “What?” I was more confused.

  “What if there isn’t only a Heaven or a Hell? What if there are neither a Heaven nor a Hell? What if there is a place in between where ghosts or as I like to think of them, spirits, exist. Sometimes it’s a happy place like the drive-in and sometimes it’s closer to what we think of as Hell.”

  “Like the
place where the little smoky ghost…er…spirit…stood apart from the others,” I said.

  Scott nodded. “Yes, that’s exactly right.”

  “Wow, well, that’s really helpful,” I admitted.

  “Was there something else to what you saw that bothered you, besides how the small specter was alone and separate from the others?”

  I nodded. “Come to think of it, yes there is. When the little one turned away and walked back into the forest, all the other ghosts at the drive-in vanished. They just poofed out of sight like they were never there. It was very strange.”

  Scott nodded, looking thoughtful. When he finally spoke, it was with a lot of sadness. “I think you saw things from the perspective of the spirit. When he left, the images of people in the drive-in vanished because he wasn’t there anymore.”

  “How—or better yet—why would that happen?” I asked, puzzled.

  “I think he has been trying to get someone to notice he’s been hanging around. He wants someone to find him so he can be buried, honored, given a funeral. He wants someone to care about the fact that he isn’t here anymore.”

  “Why me? Do you think he knows me somehow?”

  Scott nodded. “Oh, he definitely knows that someone who walks among the living but is also dead is now living in Prosper Woods. I believe he’s been waiting for a very long time. He showed you the people at the drive-in to convey how he wants to live out his afterlife, and after you’d seen what he wanted you to see, he left.”

  “That’s kind of…” What did one say to that? “That’s kind of amazing but it makes a lot of sense. So, I’m like a conduit?”

  “A medium,” Scott said with a chuckle in his voice.

  I smirked. “Speaking of which, why didn’t he choose to make himself known to you, then? And why me?”

  Scott shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows? Obviously, he trusts you to figure it out. Maybe because you are so closely connected to the sheriff? Perhaps he knows the sheriff can figure out what happened, find his body, solve his death, whether it be a murder or something else? I’m not sure.”