Ethan sat back and rubbed his eyes. So she had seen Death! Not only that, she’d been marked as well. He glanced around at jagged drawings pinned to the walls. Was this his fate? Would he, too, go mad? No, he refused to believe it. Sophie’s madness had come from her visions of the December massacre, not seeing Death. She’d been strong; he could be strong as well.
Hoping for some light at the end of the tunnel, Ethan reached for the final notebook. With great misgiving, he leafed through it. Each page took a darker and darker turn. Christian had been right. Sophie’s ability to see the Angel had made her fixate on death. After a while, she began stalking victims on the Final Cut. Her journal entries became angrier and more frenzied. Her art was fiercer; pure emotion on the page. She drew death in all of its guises: the black shadow, the grim reaper, a dark angel, the ferryman on the river Styx. Every bit of folklore was detailed on those final pages.
The last entry was the most chilling.
I can see things so clearly. I can even see my own death.
Ethan dreaded turning the page, but some dark fascination made him continue. The moment he touched it, however, a gust of wind tore the book from his hands and threw it across the room. A voice, like a breath of air against his ears, whispered, Don’t do it.
“Sophie?” Ethan asked.
The wind swirled around the room, knocking the cosmetics off of the desk and ruffling the pictures tacked to the walls. Ethan jumped out of his chair. “Sophie! What’s wrong?”
Christian burst through the door. “What’s going on?”
The wind grew stronger, forcing Ethan to brace himself to remain standing. The window blinds fluttered, and books tumbled off the shelves.
Christian ducked as a book flew past his head. “Is she pissed off?”
“I don’t think so,” Ethan said. She was frantic, but not angry. “Sophie. Show me what’s going on.”
Something small and hard flew up and hit him in the cheek. When it bounced away, he made a mad grab for it, and closed his fingers around a USB drive shaped like a piece of sushi. Immediately, the wind died down.
Ethan handed the USB drive to Christian, but Christian’s eyes were focused on the chaos in the room. “Soph? Is that you? Are you still here?”
A slight breath of air ruffled their hair.
“I’m sorry,” Christian whispered. “I should have protected you.”
Ethan heard a girlish sigh. Christian.
“I’m sorry,” Christian said.
The room went quiet.
Christian, still looking dazed, led Ethan into the living room and over to the computer. When he stuck the sushi-shaped USB drive in, they were rewarded with a folder full of documents all relating to death. Christian opened one.
“It’s like a research paper,” Ethan said, amazed. This was exactly what he’d been looking for. Hard information on necromancy. There were citations and footnotes and quotes from articles. Things Sophie seemed to have collected from on-line research.
“She always wanted to go to college,” Christian said.
“She must think there’s answers in all of this,” Ethan said. “Why else would she have given it to us?”
Christian nodded. “She’s still wrapped up in all of this.”
“Unfinished business will keep spirits from crossing over,” Ethan said. “Like Phil the butcher looking out for his wife.”
“Thanks, Soph,” Christian said quietly. “We need all the help we can get.” He made a copy of the files and sent them to Ethan. “How about you take a look at all of this.”
“Gladly,” Ethan said. He couldn’t wait to read it.
Christian opened his web browser. “Now, are you ready for more good news?” At Ethan’s nod, he continued. “I finally found out who Susan Maddox is.”
“And?” Ethan asked eagerly.
“And there’s one problem. She died forty years ago.”
Chapter Twenty-three
On Christian’s computer was a picture of a young girl clutching a teddy bear. Ethan wasn’t great at judging the ages of children, but he guessed that she was around ten. There was nothing especially interesting about her picture, but the headline below it gave him a start.
“One survivor among the one-hundred-forty-six dead in airplane crash.” Susan Maddox was that survivor.
Christian printed off a copy of the newspaper article and handed it to Ethan. “Looks like the poor kid survived the crash only to die a few days later in the hospital.”
Ethan scanned the page, marveling at the cruelty of fate. Susan’s parents and sisters had been among the victims of the plane crash. Pilot, crew, passengers…everyone gone. With the exception of this one child. Then, a few days later, the child had joined her family in the hereafter. Such a waste of a young life.
“So how does this tie in with Denise?” he asked.
“Good question.” Christian got up from the desk and went to the kitchen where he took two beers from the fridge. He offered one to Ethan who took it. “Sleuthing is thirsty work,” he said.
So was reading the journals of depressed, young necromancers. Christian’s home, which had at one time seemed so inviting, now felt tainted by Sophie’s malignant death obsession. The picture of the young girl clutching the teddy bear didn’t help.
“My guess is that Susan and Denise are related,” Christian said. “Cousins, maybe?”
“Maybe,” Ethan murmured. Although, cousins didn’t feel quite right. He recalled the fire in Denise’s eyes as she’d railed about Susan Maddox. Whatever had stirred her up hadn’t died down in over forty years.
“Can I use your computer?” Ethan asked. He itched to find out more news.
“Go for it.” Christian bustled around the kitchen, taking food from the refrigerator and bringing out a cutting board and knife. “Cooking helps me think. What would you say to chili and cornbread?”
“Sounds good,” Ethan mumbled. He was starving, but his head was too full of thoughts to consider his stomach. He sat at the computer and did a Google search for Susan Maddox. The first few pages of results all pointed to what he already knew, so he went further back, clicking on the older, less explored sites. “Did you check the dark web?” he asked Christian.
Christian, who was chopping onions, wiped his eyes on his shirtsleeve. “Not yet.”
With some misgiving, Ethan entered the dark web portal and resumed his search. Almost immediately, he found a page called the Maddox Pathway. His heart sped up as he clicked the link. When it opened, he gasped. There were hundreds of pictures of the little girl, and most of them had been altered to show her with a halo. Some included angel wings. Alongside these were testimonials from people who had claimed to see Susan’s spirit.
“I found some kind of fan site,” he said.
Christian came over for a look. He smelled of onions. “Click that one,” he said, pointing to an entry that read NOT A HOAX.
Ethan obliged, and they found themselves reading an entry by a user named Mr. Midnight who claimed that Susan Maddox was still alive. What was more, Mr. Midnight said that Susan possessed supernatural abilities.
“Most likely it’s a crank,” Christian said.
“Maybe. Then again, there is something strange about all of this. Plus, you and I are living testimonials that people can have special gifts.” Ethan met Christian’s gaze. “Should I contact him?”
At Christian’s nod, Ethan sent a message to Mr. Midnight. What can you tell me about Susan Maddox?
While Ethan waited by the computer for a reply, Christian finished making dinner. They ate at the table, but Ethan’s eyes were fixed on the computer.
“There’s no telling how old that page is,” Christian said. “Mr. Midnight may have moved on to some other conspiracy theory.”
Ethan nodded. He hated to concede that they’d run into another dead end, but Christian was probably right. They’d just have to do more digging.
When Ethan was too full to eat another bite, he groaned and leaned back in his c
hair. “That was excellent.”
Christian grinned. “I hope it wasn’t too spicy. My mother taught me how to cook. My father gave me a taste for hot sauce.”
“It was perfect,” Ethan said. Though he had drank two glasses of water to quench the burn in his mouth. David would have approved as well. Then, thinking of his boyfriend, Ethan checked his phone. No messages appeared.
While he helped Christian clean up, it grew dark. Ethan checked his watch. By now, John and Bev had probably returned to their hotel for the night. No doubt it was safe to return to the hospital. Although Cara had threatened to call security on him, Ethan was determined to return to David’s bedside. If he ran into Cara, he’d do his best to convince her that he wasn’t going to kill anyone.
Seeing the knot of people outside of David’s hospital room sent Ethan’s heart into his throat. Tessa and her parents stood on the edge of the group, and Ethan hurried over, ignoring the glares coming from John and Beverly.
“Ethan!” Tessa grabbed his arm. “Everything’s okay. Don’t worry.” Though, the stress lines around her eyes told a different story.
Ethan peered into the room. A phalanx of nurses at the monitors and breathing apparatus blocked his view of David. “How can everything be okay?” he demanded.
“We’ve decided to take him home,” Tessa said. She looked down as if ashamed. She knew full well that the ‘we’ decision had not included Ethan. “Grant and I are hiring a nurse to look after him.”
Ethan struggled to keep his voice neutral. “Where is ‘home’?” They sure as hell had better not send David to John and Bev’s house. He’d never see his boyfriend again.
Tessa shrugged. “That’s what we’ve been discussing.”
John sidled up and gave Ethan a sour look. “He’s our son, so we’re taking him to our house where he belongs.”
Tessa jumped in before Ethan could. “No, Dad. We can’t move him across the state. It’s too dangerous.”
“My apartment,” Ethan said firmly. “Move him there.”
“Over my dead body,” John growled.
Ethan scowled at the ground.
“We can move David into his own house,” Tessa said. She laid her hand on her father’s arm. Tessa was the peacemaker of the family, David had always said. When things got heated between him and his parents, Tessa had been the one to diffuse the bomb.
Ethan, of course, could come and go to David’s house as often as he pleased, but he worried that David’s parents would move in with their son and prevent him from coming over. Maybe it was best to settle things now. “Moving David to his house is a good idea,” he said. Tessa’s mouth relaxed, but her dad continued to look wary. “But then I’m moving in with him.”
“Like hell!” John exploded.
Bev rushed out of the room to shush her husband. But when she heard of Ethan’s plan to move in with David, her eyes narrowed. “That’s not your decision.”
“It’s what David would want,” Tessa said firmly, “and since Grant and I are paying for this, then I say that Ethan moves in.”
Ethan couldn’t help flashing a triumphant grin at David’s parents. Let them bluster all they wanted, they had no hope of standing up against Tessa’s husband. Or his money.
John and Bev left the hospital in a huff, and Ethan decided to hurry back to David’s house to finish setting up the house for David’s arrival. On his way down the hall, he passed an old man sitting alone in a wheelchair. His eyes were closed, and his cheeks sunken. His hands trembled. He looked to be minutes from death.
Ethan paused. Above the man’s head was the same, pure white light that he’d seen rising above the patient on the gurney a few days before. The old man’s soul.
The man’s chest rose and fell sporadically. Ethan tried to copy the rhythm with his own breathing, but failed. How was it that this man wasn’t already dead? And why was he sitting in a wheelchair and not lying in a bed hooked to monitors?
With each ragged breath, the man’s soul grew brighter. Ethan moved closer so that the soul was within easy reach. His fingers itched to collect the light and add one more to his total.
Ethan.
It was David. Ethan spun around, looking for him, but saw nothing. “David?” he whispered.
Ethan, don’t do it.
Ethan swallowed. “I have to save you.”
Not this way.
Ethan was about to argue when a nurse hurried up to the sleeping man. “Mr. Albert, you can go in now,” she said.
The man snorted awake. Groaning, he rose stiffly from his seat and hobbled into the closest room. Ethan could see a shrunken outline of an old woman in the hospital bed. The man took his wife’s hand in his own and whispered something into her ear.
Ethan’s cheeks grew hot with shame. How close he’d come to taking that man’s life! He shoved his hands into his coat pockets and headed towards the elevators. He had to talk to David again! Maybe he knew something that would bring him back to the land of the living.
Chapter Twenty-four
Ethan flung open the door to David’s house and stormed inside. “David?! Can you hear me?”
The house remained silent.
“Talk to me! Please!”
Nothing.
The candles were still in the trashcan, right where Bev had dumped them. Ethan hurriedly arranged them into a semi-circle on the floor. When he went for the Eagle Scout medal, he couldn’t find it. Cursing, he searched the living room before giving up. Bev must have taken it. Probably, she was afraid that Ethan would steal it. The very idea outraged him.
Forget the medal. He’d use the picture of David by the butterfly garden instead. He sat on the floor, lit the candles, and focused on the picture. “David,” he mumbled. “Where are you?”
He sat there until his back ached, but never heard a word from the other side. He ground his teeth. “Stop playing games!” Although, he knew David wasn’t playing them. Maybe he didn’t have the energy to visit Ethan again. Or, a darker thought, maybe he was on the run from Death and couldn’t.
Cursing, Ethan cleared away the candles and put the picture back. He didn’t need another bad encounter with Ethan’s parents. Restless, he called Christian to get an update. “Any news about Mr. Midnight,” he asked when Christian picked up.
Christian’s answer came as a surprise. “I’m going to meet him right now.”
Ethan reached for his coat. “You can pick me up at my boyfriend’s house. I’ll text you the address.”
“Not happening,” Christian said flatly. “This is a solo job.”
Ethan’s temper flared. It was bad enough that John and Bev thought they could order him around. He wasn’t taking that shit from Christian, too. “We’ve been through this before,” he said. “I won’t be left behind.”
“You don’t have a choice. I’m almost there.” Christian’s voice was taut, but Ethan couldn’t tell if it was from anger or nerves. “I’ll be fine. I know how to take care of myself.”
“That may be, but you need me. What if Mr. Midnight brings friends? What if this is a setup?”
“I’m prepared,” Christian said. Ethan envisioned the gun at Christian’s hip. It would go a long way in keeping Christian safe, but it wasn’t a perfect plan.
“At least tell me where you are, so I know where to pick up your remains when things go wrong.”
“Nice to know you care,” Christian said. There was a touch of sourness to this, like the bite of vinegar in a sauce.
“I do care,” Ethan said, suddenly realizing it was true. He couldn’t pinpoint the moment that he’d started to count Christian as a friend. The idea had snuck up on him. Now, however, he wanted to keep Christian safe. “At least tell me where you are.”
“The parking structure north of the hospital.”
Over the past week, Ethan had parked his car at the structure more often than he had in his own apartment complex’s parking lot. He knew it well.
“Don’t you dare come looking for me, though,” C
hristian warned. There was the sound of a car door slamming shut. “Like I said, I know how to handle my -”. The sentence ended in an abrupt howl of pain and the phone went dead.
Ethan was out of the door and into his car in under a minute. The parking structure was only a few miles away, but those miles stretched endlessly. Ethan weaved through traffic and ran two red lights. He prayed he wouldn’t get pulled over. No one would believe his story if he did.
Once he pulled into the structure and he was forced to slow down, his mind stopped racing. He was without a plan. If Christian had been taken down in under a minute, what chance did he stand? He had no weapons and no martial arts training. All he had were his necromancy skills and his ability to read auras.
Christian’s SUV was nowhere in sight. Ethan drove slowly, winding his way through the maze of the parking structure until he reached the very top. There, in the far corner was Christian’s SUV. And next to it was Christian.
Ethan sped up to let Christian jump into his car. However, when he got closer, he realized that something was wrong. Christian stood in an unnatural pose, as rigid as a statue. The muscles in his arms bulged, as if he was battling an unseen foe. His face was contorted, his lips pulled away from his teeth. Most unsettling was the vaporous cloud surrounding him. The thing oozed menace. As Ethan watched in horror, the vapor thickened, twisting itself into a rope. No, not a rope. A snake! A horrible beast with mottled gray flesh and a pair of venomous fangs. It wrapped tightly around Christian’s legs and waist, its coils tensing until Christian’s eyes bulged in horror.
Ethan slammed on his brakes, threw the car into park, and darted over to his friend. “Let him go!” he demanded of the snake. The snake undulated, and its triangular head darted towards him. Ethan leapt away, keeping clear of the thing’s fangs which glistened with drops of poison.
So much of this didn’t make sense. For one thing, the snake wasn’t a ghost. Yet, it obviously wasn’t real, either. Not that it mattered. Right now, he needed a weapon and fast! But unlike Christian, he’d come completely unprepared. He didn’t have so much as a stick of chalk or a shaker of salt. Then he spotted Christian’s black duffel bag. Dodging the snake’s head, he flung himself at the bag, coming up short. He scooted closer.
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