Elatsoe

by Darcie Little Badger

  “Let’s call exorcists,” Jay said. “The best in Texas!”

  “If Al is trapped in the mansion, an exorcism might hurt him. They tend to get chaotic. Violent. Lots of collateral damage.”

  “What can we do?”

  “First, find Al and free him,” Ellie said. “There’s several hours till the masquerade ball, and my dog can track people using—”

  “Ellie,” Vivian interrupted. “What are you planning?”

  “Hey, I’m on the phone! Wait a second.” She theatrically ducked her head, as if protecting the conversation from prying ears. “Kirby needs a scent to follow. Do you have unwashed clothes that belong to Al?”

  Ellie heard muffled voices on Jay’s end. A moment later, he said, “Yes! His sweater. Will that work?”

  “Perfect.”

  “Can you meet us at the Ring Transport Center in an hour?” he asked.

  “Count on it,” Ellie said. “Kirby and I will be there.” She glanced at her mother. Vivian wore a steely expression, the kind that teachers used to wordlessly check rowdy students. “Mom is probably coming too,” Ellie amended.

  Once the call ended, Ellie clasped her hands, imitating penitence. “How much did you hear?” she asked her mother.

  “Enough to understand.”

  “Hundreds of people might die. I have to do something.”

  Vivian smiled. “I know,” she said. “Me too. Before we leave, be sure to eat breakfast. I need to speak with your father. Hopefully, he won’t be busy with surgery all day.”

  They hugged, and part of Ellie—the part that she usually repressed—wondered if it would be their last.

  In the bathroom, after splashing her cheeks with cold water, Ellie contemplated her reflection. Her black T-shirt was emblazoned with green 0s and 1s, binary code. Ellie had not understood the message when she first bought the shirt, but it intrigued her. Rather than checking the clothes tag for a translation, she had decoded it in the store using her phone and a “binary to English” converter. The message was inoffensive. It declared: Hello, world!

  Perhaps the shirt was a good sign, a tribute to solved mysteries with pleasant endings. Smiling, Ellie fastened her hair in a braid and rubbed sunscreen on her face, neck, and arms. Thus readied for action, she ran to the kitchen, toasted two strawberry tarts, and shouted, “Mom, let’s go!”

  Her mother stepped from the guest room; Vivian wore sunglasses and a white suit with magnificently wide shoulder pads. “Here’s the rules,” she said. “We’re going into the lion’s den, but that doesn’t mean we should poke the cat. You. Your friend. Your friend’s friend. Y’all will be livestreaming. Film everything. If Kirby senses danger, we leave. If Allerton or his cronies get violent, we also leave. No fighting. We have a single goal: evacuate the party.”

  “And look for Al.”

  Her mother crossed her arms. “Yes. If Kirby picks up his scent. I’m not entirely convinced that Al is being held prisoner in the mansion. However, we won’t know unless we look.”

  Ellie returned Gregory to his crib while her mother checked on Lenore. When they regrouped outside, Vivian seemed perturbed.

  “What’s wrong, Mom?” Ellie asked.

  “Probably nothing. Lenore was awake. And …”

  “What?”

  “She smiled at me. Big one. I haven’t seen her smile like that since before the funeral. She didn’t even try to come with us.”

  The two women jumped into Vivian’s minivan, buckled up, and pulled out of the driveway. “She knows that Trevor is back,” Ellie said. “His ghost visited her, too.”

  “Seems likely.”

  A call came in during the drive. That morning, a team of close friends and family reached the mesquite tree that grew beside Trevor’s grave. They found a hole in the ground. His body was missing.

  Stolen, no doubt, by the man who first stole his life.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  AT THE RING Transport Center, Jay led a procession of women through the exit turnstile. Despite the sweltering weather, they all wore chic matching trench coats and cargo pants. The coats were olive green and hand-decorated with rhinestones and silver-colored studs.

  “Hey!” Ellie called. “How many sisters do you have?”

  “Just one,” Jay said. “Introduce your peanut gallery, Ronnie.”

  The tallest woman, Ronnie Ross, stepped to the front of her group. Ronnie and Jay had some sibling similarities, like their wide-set eyes and small noses. Ronnie wore her bottle-black hair in a chemically solidified bouffant. It arched from her forehead like an inky wave. “Thanks for meeting us,” she said. “These are my friends Jess, Martia, and Alice. Actually, you know them already. Just not in three dimensions.”

  Jess was a white woman with shoulder-length hair and an upturned nose. Martia and Alice each had black hair and brown skin, but Martia’s face was oval-shaped, while Alice had a rounder face with plump, bright cheeks.

  “You’re the basketball bridesmaids?” Ellie asked. “Which one of you can bench-press ten thousand pounds?” While Jay was a cheer squad star, his sister played a mean basketball center. Nearly six feet tall, she towered over Ellie and Vivian. Ronnie’s friends ranged between five four (Alice) and five eleven (Jess), and they moved with the unconscious unity of a well-trained team.

  “Herotonic University varsity,” Ronnie said, her eyes crinkling fondly.

  “I hope you didn’t bring more,” Vivian said, “because my van only has room for eight.”

  “Just us, ma’am,” Alice said. “We don’t mind close quarters.”

  “Last season, we sat three to a seat on the bus to Dallas,” Jess added. “By the end of the trip, I was in Martia’s lap.”

  “Good times,” Martia said. “Until my legs fell asleep. How do mall Santas do it?”

  “Let’s be serious for a moment,” Ronnie said. “If anyone wants to back out now, that’s fine. I won’t hold it against you.”

  Her friends made an assortment of sympathetic sounds.

  “I’m serious,” Ronnie continued. “This will be a hundred times more dangerous than last night.”

  “Last night?” Jay asked. “Heeeey. Did you guys beat up that bar manager?”

  “We didn’t have to,” Ronnie said. The “but we could have” was obvious.

  “Let’s find Al,” Alice said. “Nobody wants to back out.”

  That settled, the rescue party crammed into the van. Martia and Jess took the far-back seats. Ronnie, Jay, and Ellie took the middle (Jay, ever polite, volunteered for the dreaded middle middle seat). Alice snagged shotgun. Kirby spent the trip on Ellie’s lap; to his credit, he didn’t weigh a thing, so her legs survived.

  “We stay together,” Vivian said, repeating herself, as if she could guarantee something by saying it enough times. “We stay together, we be quick, and we avoid confrontation whenever possible. When we reach the mansion, I’ll park on the street outside the driveway. Ellie, wait in the car with Jay. Be our getaway drivers, okay? The women and I will enter the mansion.”

  “Wait,” Ellie said. “I have to go, too. You need Kirby!”

  “You seem to forget,” Vivian said, “that I can also communicate with ghosts.” She locked eyes with Ellie’s reflection in the rearview mirror.

  “We understand,” Jay said. “I won’t let you down, Ms. Bride.”

  Ellie said nothing.

  The Willowbee welcome sign had been decorated for its bicentennial. A pod of yellow balloons with pink ribbons was fastened to its post, swaying in a gentle breeze. White, fleecy clouds drifted overhead. No chance of rain. The town’s 200th birthday would be well attended, and that made Ellie nervous. Judging by the news articles online, Dr. Allerton’s public events drew crowds from across South Texas. They had bouncy houses, live entertainment, and carnival snacks. How good of him. How charitable. However, Ellie suspected that charity was the least of Dr. Allerton’s motivations. The parties diverted attention from his sins.

  “Phones charged?” Ellie’s mother
asked, and everybody checked their respective devices.

  “Yes, Ms. Bride,” Jay said.

  “Ninety percent,” Ellie said.

  “I’m at forty,” Martia admitted, “but that’ll last a couple hours.”

  “What if the ghost cuts the cell phone signal?” Jay asked, biting his lower lip in a profoundly anxious manner. “Can … they do that?”

  “Ghosts are like superheroes, in a way,” Ellie explained. “They have an inexplicably wide range of powers. The real question is: can he do that? Which … well, I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “If he cuts the phones,” Vivian said, “we’ll retreat.”

  Ellie looked out the window and watched the small town pass. There were picnics—wicker baskets on checkered blankets—in the lush town square. The librarians hosted a book sale outside the library. An ice cream truck idled on the street corner. Families, couples, and groups of townsfolk milled around, chatting, enjoying the day. Children played with the unbridled enthusiasm that summer vacation, devoid of early mornings and deadlines, permitted.

  “I suspect that most people will stay in town until later,” Jay said. “The big dance begins at sundown. There’s just lawn-party stuff at the mansion till then.”

  “Fingers crossed,” Ellie said.

  Their hopes were dashed a few minutes later; the gates to the Allerton mansion were open, and dozens of parked cars lined the driveway to his house. Two men in green shirts waved Vivian toward a spot near the gate. From that position, Ellie could see part of the lawn, but the trees blocked the house, except for a couple chimneys and the occasional sliver of brick wall.

  Everyone poured out of the minivan. Ronnie and her team were dewy with sweat, but none removed her fancy coat. Ellie wondered if they had a secret arsenal hidden under the sparkling fabric.

  “This belonged to Al,” Ronnie said. She handed Ellie a vanilla-colored cable-knit sweater. It reeked of cologne and pomade.

  “Kirby,” Ellie said, dangling the sweater low, “scent it!”

  Kirby’s shimmer flowed toward the item. After a moment, Ellie said, “Track!” and he blinked out of view. “If Kirby picks up on the scent within, oh, a square mile of this place, he’ll return and yap once.”

  “How long will it take?” Ronnie asked.

  As if responding, a sharp, excited bark rang out. The starting lineup all reacted with varying degrees of surprise. Alice gasped. Martia and Jess leapt back-to-back, steeled for an attack. Ronnie took a defensive pose, her legs and arms spread wide.

  “Ghost dogs,” Jay said, shrugging. “They sneak up on you sometimes.”

  “He found the trail!” Ellie said. “Can you see him, Mom?”

  Vivian nodded. She tucked her phone into her blazer pocket; its camera peeked out, filming on the sly. Streaming straight to Ellie’s screen.

  “Kirby,” Ellie said, “lead.” The shimmer slowly circled the van before flowing up the driveway. Everyone but Jay and Ellie followed him toward the lawn party. In the distance, a group of revelers cheered. Somebody tooted on a horn. “Let’s sit in the shade,” Ellie suggested, nodding toward a nearby maple tree. “If anyone asks, we needed a break from the excitement and came here to hang out.”

  Jay flopped beside her and leaned close enough to watch the video on her phone. They shared a pair of earbuds; he had the left, and she had the right. “Is that a mime?” Jay asked. “And a juggler?”

  “Clearly an extra special day for the doctor.”

  There were performers outside the mansion, painted acrobats with jester hats that jingled when they danced. A jester in green guided Vivian to a crowded courtyard behind the mansion. The scene resembled a country fair. To one side, food carts served guests popcorn in paper cones, lemonade in plastic cups, and fried dough on disposable plates. A fortune teller, a balloon animal artist, and a magician entertained throngs of people under separate tents. The main event, however, was a country music show on a portable stage. The performers must have been famous, because several people in their audience wore T-shirts emblazoned with their band name: Shiny Cowbirds.

  “Kirby went into the house,” Vivian whispered; she must have tucked her chin, putting her mouth over her phone, because the sound transmitted well. “I’ll try to finagle a way inside too. Damn. Dr. Allerton thought of everything. He has outdoor toilets.” Vivian turned, pointing her phone camera at a blue portable bathroom. It was over twice the size of a typical porta-potty model. Handicap accessible. If Ellie didn’t know better, she might have mistaken Allerton for a good man.

  “I’m putting you on mute,” Vivian said. “If you need anything, text me or call Ronnie.”

  “I feel faint,” somebody off-camera—Alice? It sounded like Alice—said. “It’s too hot for leather sleeves.”

  “What are you kids doing?” boomed a voice. “Party’s up there!” One of the gate guards stepped around the van and approached Ellie and Jay. He twirled an orange traffic wand like a glee-squad leader with a baton.

  “We’re taking a break,” Ellie said. She lowered her phone, angling it screen-down over her lap. When the guard seemed unmoved by her excuse (he did just see them arrive), she added, “And waiting for friends. They’re supposed to meet us here.”

  “They’re late,” Jay added. “They got lost.”

  “Out-of-towners?” the guard asked. “I can help with directions. Been living here all my life.”

  “Uh. No need,” Ellie said. “It’s sorted. Thanks.”

  “Don’t go wandering,” the guard said, tipping his cap. “Guests aren’t allowed in the wooded lawn. It’s a liability, see. If some kid climbs a tree and falls, his parents can sue. So I’m telling you right now: stay near your car.”

  Ellie nodded. “Got it,” she said. “No wandering.”

  He pointed to his eyes, as if miming I’m watching you, and strolled back to the open gate. Along the way, he whistled a tuneless song.

  “How’d I do?” Jay asked, and Ellie didn’t have the heart to point out that he looked pale and shaken.

  “Convincing bluff,” she whispered. “Need a drink of water? There’s bottles in the trunk. I can … oh! Hold on. Mom’s got in the mansion! Look.”

  Her phone displayed a view of a long hall. It had wall-to-wall white carpeting, a testament to Allerton’s wealth. It was difficult to expunge stains from anything absorbent and pale-colored, yet the carpet was bright as fresh snow. The walls also celebrated Allerton’s disposable income. A variety of elaborately framed oil paintings hung from gold hooks. They depicted country scenes, pretty young women, and Impressionist gardens. It was difficult to appreciate the art’s finer details, since Vivian moved quickly, but Ellie suspected that the paintings belonged to a range of time periods and painters.

  “Great!” Jay said. “How’d they do that?”

  He had his answer shortly. A woman in black ushered Vivian to a pale green sitting room. It had teardrop-shaped mirrors on every wall.

  “She can lie down,” the woman said. “Somebody will bring the doctor. You, ah, might consider removing that coat, miss.”

  “Air conditioning,” Alice sighed. Her friends carried her to a pine-green sofa. “I feel better already.”

  Vivian’s voice piped up, “Thank you. How long will Dr. Allerton be?”

  “A few minutes,” the woman said. “Do you need anything else?”

  Although Vivian responded, Ellie was distracted by a dark blotch in the western teardrop mirror. It swayed beside Vivian’s reflection.

  “Do you see that?” Ellie asked, pointing.

  “It’s a … face,” Jay said. “Really dim and blurry, though. You think they’re wearing a stocking, like some bank robber? For the masquerade?”

  “Maybe, but who does it belong to? I don’t see anyone else in the room except your sister, her friends, Mom, and that woman.”

  “You think …” Jay’s voice broke mid-question. Ellie chalked it up to fear, and she completely empathized.

  “Call Ronnie,” Ellie said. “
Tell her to evacuate now.”

  “On it!” Jay pressed an icon on his screen and held it against his pointy ear. Normally, his curls hid its sharp tip. A recessive trait, very few descendants of fairy folk had “elfin ears,” and he disliked drawing attention to them.

  “It’s ringing,” he said. Simultaneously, through her earbuds, Ellie heard a faint tweet-tweet in the sitting room. Vivian turned away from the mirror and faced Ronnie Ross.

  “It’s my brother,” Ronnie said, answering. “Yes?”

  “Retreat!” Jay said. “Trevor’s ghost is in the room.”

  “Hah. Why are you asking that?” Ronnie said. “Even if they opened a pool, it’s not the right time.”

  “Did you hear me?” Jay said, shaking his phone, as if trying to jiggle a loose chip into place. “I’m not talking about swimming. Ronnie, get out of the mansion. Now!”

  “I love you too.”

  “What? Ronnie? Ronnie, don’t hang up!”

  “Shh,” Ellie said, patting Jay’s arm. “The guard might hear.”

  “She hung up!” he said. “It’s like we were having two different conversations!”

  “I noticed.” Ellie stood, shifting from foot to foot, indecisive. Because they were still connected by earbuds, Jay stood with her and mirrored the side-to-side motion.

  “We should …” Ellie trailed off. What should they do? Vivian wasn’t facing the mirror anymore; had Trevor’s visage disappeared, or was he still grinning at the women? Why did Ellie and Jay see him so clearly, while nobody else seemed to notice? Had Trevor interfered with the phone call to Ronnie?

  “It has to be Trevor. He wants us to enter the mansion,” Ellie said. “It’s a trap, obviously, but I’m not unprepared.”

  “Whatever happens, we stick together,” Jay said.

  “Trevor probably just wants me,” she said. “You don’t have to step in the trap too. It’s not necessary.”

  “Neither are socks, but I choose to wear them! Happily! It’s my choice.”