Deadly Spirits

by Michelle Scott

  The ambulances had finally arrived, and EMTs were scurrying out of their vehicles and towards the dead. One man stalked past Ethan, a bullhorn to his lips. “It doesn’t matter,” he shouted. “They’re all doomed. We’re all doomed.”

  Ethan woke with a scream on his lips. Sweat plastered his T-shirt to his back. Panting, he sat up and tried to pull himself out of the nightmare. The dream had probably only lasted a few seconds, but it had felt like hours. It was still dark outside, and his phone read just after three. He took Christian’s business card from his wallet and made a call.

  “I’m in,” he said.

  Chapter Seven

  “Cream? Sugar?” Christian motioned to the coffee pot that sat on the table. He and Ethan had agreed to meet at a coney island restaurant for breakfast before Ethan’s classes started.

  “Straight up black,” Ethan said.

  Christian nodded his approval. “Like a man.” He then proceeded to dump half the sugar container into his own cup. “I, on the other hand, drink it like a girl. Or so Sophie always used to tell me.”

  Ethan shrugged off his coat. “And you said that Sophie was your cousin?”

  “Yeah. Although, we were more like brother and sister.” Christian sipped his coffee then added more sugar.

  Before Christian could elaborate, the waitress came over, and they both ordered breakfast. Egg white omelet and wheat toast for Ethan, and two lumberjack specials for Christian which meant a total of four eggs over easy, four pancakes, a double helping of home fries, bacon, sausage, and toast. Although, given the Nordic god’s size, it probably wouldn’t fill him up.

  “So tell me, what kind of vision did you have last night?” Christian asked. “You sounded pretty rattled.”

  Ethan could still hear the screams of the dying from the night before. “It was terrible. I swear I was right there.” He wiped his hand on his jeans, as if the warm, sticky blood from his nightmare was still on his fingers. He glanced around the restaurant, hoping no one was listening in. “There were bodies everywhere,” he said softly. “Sophie was there, too. She begged me to help you.”

  “I’m glad you’re on board.”

  After that, how could Ethan refuse? “I think that channeling Sophie’s spirit at the fairgrounds was what made me dream about her.”

  “She wanted to get your attention, and she got it,” Christian said. “She was that way in real life, too.”

  The restaurant was half full of customers, and it didn’t take long for their food to arrive. Christian cut into an egg and dipped a piece of toast into the yolk. Ethan raised a bite of omelet to his mouth then dropped the fork with a clatter. “I see her!”

  “Who?” Christian asked, looking around.

  Ethan nodded at the door. Sophie stood on the other side of the plate glass window looking in. She watched him and Christian with a worried expression, tugging on an earring while she did.

  Ghosts had always made Ethan shy away, but this time, there was too much at stake. He hurried across the restaurant and through the door, but the moment he was outside, Sophie disappeared. She’d been there, though. He was certain of it. He could still smell a trace of bubblegum and patchouli oil.

  Christian came through the door after him. “Either you’ve gone mad or seen a ghost.”

  “Sophie was here. Can you smell her?”

  Christian inhaled. “Not really.”

  “Bubblegum and patchouli,” Ethan said.

  “Bubblegum, yes. But I have no idea what the hell patchouli is.”

  Ethan surveyed the parking lot. Spirits always turned up in key places and for specific reasons. Kennedy’s ghost had tracked him all over the city because she’d wanted her killer found. Was Sophie after him because she wanted to make sure he was helping Christian? Or was there another purpose for her visit?

  The waitress stormed through the door. “You didn’t pay!”

  Christian pulled several bills from his wallet. “Pack it up to go. We’ll be right back.”

  The restaurant was in the middle of a strip mall. Ethan walked the length of it, noticing a small, Asian grocery store, a pharmacy, and at the very end, a nightclub named Rendezvous which was closed. Nothing stood out to him, either through his supernatural senses or his mundane ones. For good measure, he and Christian circled the parking lot as well.

  “Hey!” Christian shouted. He was at the back of the lot, waving a piece of paper at someone Ethan couldn’t see. “What are you doing?” Christian demanded.

  Ethan hurried over, wondering what kind of lunatic he’d gotten himself involved with. Then he noticed that a third of the cars in the lot had flyers under their wipers. He swiped one and read: There is no place for gays or athiests in America. Furious, he strode over to Christian who had the offender cornered against an old mini van.

  “Can you believe this?” Christian asked when Ethan joined him. “This guy thinks you and I don’t belong here.”

  At first glance, the man looked to be in his late forties, but a closer look showed that his receding hairline and heavy-framed glasses had added years to his appearance. More likely, he was closer to Ethan’s age. Maybe thirty-five at most. He blinked up at Christian with equal parts fear and belligerence in his eyes. “It’s a free country and I have the right to say what I want.”

  Christian balled up the paper in his hand and shoved it in the guy’s chest. “This is hate speech. Also, I’m pretty sure you don’t have permission to distribute these things in this parking lot.” He took a step closer, and the man shied away.

  “I’ll call the cops,” Ethan said, taking out his phone.

  “Or we could put some fear into him,” Christian growled.

  A middle-aged Asian woman ran out of the grocery store, shouting and waving her hands. When she saw the man with the flyers, she marched up to him and continued her diatribe. “I called the police on you! I told you already to get lost!” She ripped the pile of flyers from his hand. “How many times do I have to tell you to stay away?”

  The man cringed and covered his face with his hands. “I’m leaving, okay?”

  “Leave for good,” she demanded. She hardly stood taller than Christian’s elbow, but her expression was fiercer than any Ethan had ever seen. “Don’t come back! Or this man,” she pointed to Christian, “will tear you apart! Understand?”

  Christian looked down on the woman with bemusement. “I will, too.” He stepped away, and the other man immediately fled. He ran across the lot, and dashed across six lanes of traffic without looking back. Cars slammed on their brakes to avoid hitting him. Horns blared. In a moment, the guy had disappeared into an apartment building on the other side of the road.

  The woman patted Christian’s arm. “You did good. That man is trouble.”

  “You did good, too,” Ethan told her.

  She smiled. “Now, I will burn these things. They’re garbage. No one should see them.” She turned around and marched back to her store.

  Christian and Ethan walked back to the restaurant. “She’s a spitfire,” Christian said approvingly.

  “Would you really have hit that guy?” Ethan asked.

  “I don’t know,” Christian admitted. “I tend to think with my fists.” Then he shrugged. “Probably not, though. I’d be the one who ended up getting arrested, and that piece of shit would walk away with a fine. I do have some self control, after all.”

  Ethan certainly hoped so.

  That afternoon, Ethan got a text from David. Dinner tonight? He agreed, and David told him to meet him at the job site. When Ethan arrived, he found David’s pickup waiting curbside by a large, Victorian house. David was on the roof. He shouted Ethan’s name and waved. The other three members of the crew were loading equipment and tools back into the trailer attached to the back of David’s pickup truck. They nodded at Ethan as he made his way over to them.

  The house was a large, two-story affair with a gabled roof. Ethan’s palms grew sweaty as he watched his boyfriend clamber over the roof. David had
mentioned that the job involved remodeling a bathroom and reconfiguring a closet. So why the hell was he all the way up there?

  As if reading his mind, the youngest crew member, an eighteen-year-old named Tyler, came over. “The homeowner wanted him to replace a few missing shingles while we were here. That monster storm last week blew them off.”

  Ethan seethed. David probably wouldn’t charge extra, either.

  “He’ll be down in a few,” Tyler said.

  Ethan didn’t want to watch, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He had a deep-seated fear of heights. Even looking at David on the roof was making him anxious. Then something caught his eye. That same, dark malevolent presence that he’d seen through Sophie’s eyes. It loomed behind David who was at the precipice of the roof. David, oblivious, kept at his work.

  Ethan swallowed back his fear. Keeping his voice as steady as he could, he shouted, “Ready to go?”

  “In a minute,” David shouted back.

  Ethan had to get David out of there! Right now, the shadow was merely observing, but there was no telling when it would pounce. A ladder leaned against the house, and without thinking, Ethan began climbing. He had to get David down!

  “You shouldn’t do that, man,” Tyler called. “You’re not insured!”

  Hearing Tyler’s shout, David hurried to the edge of the roof. “Ethan! What are you doing?”

  Ethan was now six feet off of the ground. His sweating palms made the rungs too slippery to hang on tight. “You have to get down!” he shouted. “Right now!”

  David frowned, both alarmed and vexed. “Sure. Just climb down yourself before you get hurt.”

  Ethan nodded, relieved. Maybe what he’d seen had only been an afterimage of his vision at the fairgrounds. No doubt, his mind was jumping at shadows.

  It took a great deal of resolve to lower his foot to the previous rung. When it slipped, his eyes darted down. He was met with a gaping maw of emptiness between him and the ground. Shit! He clamped his eyes shut, frozen on the ladder.

  “Ethan? Ethan!” David shouted from above. “Look at me, okay? I’ll guide you down.”

  Ethan forced his eyes open and looked up at David’s calm face. “One step at a time,” David said. “You can do this.”

  David was going to rib him about this tonight at dinner. And probably for weeks to come. Not that Ethan cared right now. His only thought was getting off of the ladder.

  With his eyes on David, Ethan made it down another rung. But when the shadow rose up behind David’s shoulder, Ethan’s mouth dropped in horror. In a split second, David’s calm expression gave way to terror. David slipped, arms pinwheeling, and vaulted head-first off of the roof. He screamed as he sailed past Ethan. He hit the ground with a thud.

  Somehow, Ethan made it off of the ladder. He dropped to his knees by David’s side. Tyler shouted for someone to call 9-1-1.

  “David!” Ethan cried. “Can you hear me? Are you alright?”

  David’s eyes were shut. There was no blood, but Ethan felt in his gut that something was terribly wrong. When the EMTs arrived and brought out a backboard and head brace, he thought he’d pass out. Numbly, he answered the questions they asked him. Numbly, he accepted Tyler’s offer to drive him to the hospital. Numbly, he sat by David’s bed in the ER watching the monitors and praying that this was all part of a dream.

  Chapter Eight

  David’s body survived the fall. However, his spirit was missing.

  Ethan sat by the hospital bed, clutching David’s motionless hand in his own. He prayed like he’d never done before. That David’s eyes would open. That time would turn back to before the accident. That this would someday become a memory that they would talk about over beers and say just how lucky they’d been.

  The beeping monitor next to the bed kept a steady rhythm as did the ventilator. They were constant reminders that David needed their support in order to survive.

  Over and over again, Ethan asked himself what had happened on the roof. Had he somehow brought the Reaper into existence by reliving Sophie’s final moments? Or had he caused the accident by climbing up the ladder? Was all of this his fault? Please God, don’t let it be his fault.

  Miserable, he slouched in his chair. He’d cried when he’d first heard the word ‘coma’, but hadn’t shed a tear since. Now, his heart was a hard knob in the middle of his chest. His mind refused to come to terms with what the doctors had said. Severe head trauma…bleeding on the brain…those were things that happened to other people, not David.

  “Hang in there,” he whispered to David. “Don’t go towards the light.” He’d meant it as a joke, but it seemed too close to the truth and he wished he hadn’t said it out loud. He glanced at the crucifix hanging above David’s bed. Since this was a Catholic hospital, every room had one. “Don’t take him from me,” Ethan whispered. Despite not being religious, he decided that asking for help couldn’t hurt. “You don’t need him. I do.”

  When his best friend, Cara, rushed into the room the next morning, Ethan felt some of his tension drain away. Cara was a nurse, and she’d looked death in the face plenty of times before. If anyone could comfort him with good news right now, she could. Yet, when he saw her somber expression, part of him wilted. Whatever was going on with David had to be serious for her to look so grave.

  She put her arm around his waist and hugged him. “Ethan, I’m so sorry.”

  “He’s non-responsive,” he said, then realized it was obvious. The doctors had thrown around so many words, yet that phrase was the only one that had stuck with him.

  He and Cara took seats next to the bed. Ethan told her about David’s fall without mentioning seeing Death. Cara would have believed him, of course, but he couldn’t talk about it. Not even with her.

  “A coma is serious, but its not the end of the world,” she said when he’d finished. “There’s a good chance he’ll wake up soon.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  “Don’t borrow trouble, Ethan.” Her tone was kind, but brisk. He imagined it was the tone she used with many of her patients. “Stay hopeful. It’s the best you can do.” She peered into his eyes. “Also, take care of yourself, too. You’ve been here all night. When’s the last time you ate?”

  He took David’s hand again. “I’m not hungry.”

  “Too bad. I’m ordering you breakfast. Caregivers are entitled to meals, too.” She picked up the phone by the bed and asked the kitchen for scrambled eggs with a side of toast.

  Ethan offered her a tired smile. “Thanks.”

  Loud voices from the hallway broke through his anguish. When he heard who it was, his heart fluttered. “Oh, God,” he moaned to Cara. “They’re here.”

  She frowned. “Who?”

  “David’s parents.” Bev and John. Ethan’s two arch-nemeses.

  Cara’s eyes widened. “They’re the ones who broke you two up, aren’t they?”

  Ethan nodded miserably. He’d asked one of the ER nurses to contact them since he’d been too overwrought to deal with it. Now that they were here, however, he stood up and squared his shoulders, ready to meet them head on. He instinctively knew that this was going to get ugly.

  Cara stood beside him. “I’m here if you need backup.”

  “He better be in a private room!” Bev’s strident voice came into the room before she did. Her hard eyes went to David in the bed before going straight to Ethan. “You.” The word came out like a curse.

  Her husband, shorter and heavier than his wife, followed her through the door. His upper lip lifted in disgust when he saw Ethan. “What’s he doing here?”

  “I’m here with my boyfriend,” Ethan said, stressing the last word.

  Bev hissed through her teeth. She curled her fingers, her manicured nails like talons. If things had been different, she might have scratched Ethan’s eyes out. “My David is not a homosexual.”

  “I’m sure he’d beg to differ,” Cara said.

  “Are you a nurse here?” John demanded, looking
over her scrubs. “If so, I’m going to report you for unprofessional behavior.”

  “Yes, I work here, but I’m also David’s friend,” Cara shot back. Her eyes glittered. “And I’ve heard every nasty trick you pulled to keep Ethan and David apart from each other.”

  Ethan appreciated the support, but he put a restraining hand on her arm. He didn’t want Cara to lose her job over this. “David’s in critical condition,” he said evenly. He’d been practicing what to say when David’s parents showed up. The plan was to stick to the script in order to avoid a scene. “He has bleeding on his brain. The doctors don’t know how long it will take for him to wake up.”

  Bev elbowed her way to David’s side. “Oh, Honey! It’s mom! Can you hear me?” Tears leaked from her eyes. Ethan almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

  “How did it happen?” John asked. “What was he doing?”

  “He fell off of a roof when he was working on a job,” Ethan said.

  “Oh, Lord Jesus, be with us now we pray.” Bev launched into the prayer so quickly that her husband nearly dropped his car keys in order to take her hand. “Be with our sweet boy.”

  Ethan wasn’t sure how God played into all of this. He’d never been sure when it came to questions regarding the Great Unknown. However, he respectfully bowed his head. Cara, a devout believer, bowed her head as well and held onto the gold cross she always wore around her neck.

  When Bev finished, she wiped her eyes and nose with a tissue. Very stiffly, as if forced to acknowledge a dirty beggar, she nodded at Ethan. “Thank you for being here for our son when we couldn’t be.”

  “You’re welcome,” Ethan said, surprised.

  “But now we’re here,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “You can leave.”

  “I’m not leaving,” he said firmly. His stomach tensed. He’d expected this, but it still angered him to hear it.

  “David is our son,” John said, “and this is a family matter.”

  Ethan crossed his arms over his chest. “And, like it or not, I’m family.”