Grave Intentions

by Sjoberg, Lori

  Pearl’s focus swung back to Sarah, and the lines around her eyes deepened with concern. “What’s wrong, baby girl? You look troubled.”

  Sarah took a deep breath, preparing herself for that first big bite of humble pie. It never tasted good, no matter how well you cooked it. “Do you remember any of our conversation last night?”

  “Bits and pieces,” Pearl said. “Was it the drugs, or did you apologize to me for something?”

  “I apologized. For doubting you all these years.”

  Pearl let out a low huff, her lips compressed into a pale, thin line. She stared at her granddaughter for nearly a full minute before saying, “Finally saw something you couldn’t identify and catalog, did you?”

  Ouch. “Okay, I deserve that.”

  “Damn right you do.” Pearl hit a button on the remote and the bed inclined until she was in a seated position. “You always were so cynical, never believing a damn thing anyone told you unless it could be nailed down six ways to Sunday. Sure made Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy a challenge when you were little.”

  Sarah laughed, remembering the questions she used to unleash on her poor mother and grandmother on a regular basis. How is it possible for one man to visit every child in the world in the space of one night? How do reindeer fly if they don’t have wings? Can the Easter Bunny talk? Where does he get all those eggs? What does the Tooth Fairy do with all those teeth?

  “So tell me baby girl, what did you see to sway your opinion?” Pearl asked.

  Sarah stared down at her hands. Part of her still felt foolish, telling tales of souls and spirits and earthbound agents of Death. But she owed her grandmother an explanation, so she took another deep breath, mustered her courage, and told Pearl everything. It felt therapeutic in a way, sharing her experiences with someone who wouldn’t think she’d lost her marbles.

  “Wow,” Pearl said once Sarah finished. “That’s some story you got there. You sure you didn’t just have an allergic reaction to something you ate?”

  Sarah pinned her grandmother with a withering glare. “Positive. And you can stop giving me the big hairy eyeball. I can only apologize so many times.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” Pearl said, clearly doubtful of her granddaughter’s sudden change of heart. “So. Now you believe me. Where does that leave us?”

  Good question. While she no longer considered her grandmother mentally unstable, Pearl was still physically frail and in need of a facility capable of monitoring her condition. Which meant she had to maintain her current living arrangements.

  “I think it leaves us with a better understanding of one another,” Sarah said, giving her grandmother’s hand a squeeze.

  Pearl smiled. “Well, there is that.”

  “And I was hoping you could fill me in,” Sarah added, still feeling a little uncomfortable. It was all so very new to her, and it felt strange asking about things that railed against her sense of logic. “About our family …” She made a vague gesture with her hand, struggling to find the best word to describe their connection with the spiritual plane. Affliction? Misfortune?

  “Gift?” Pearl offered, her eyes crinkling with humor.

  “You sure it’s a gift?” At the moment, Sarah didn’t see it that way. She saw it as a curse of sorts, something that brought nothing but misunderstanding and ridicule.

  “Positive. It put shoes on your feet and food on the table. It got your momma buried and put you through college.”

  “Point taken.” Pearl had never been short of people seeking her services, be it tarot card or palm reading, séances, or spiritual advice. The same people who mocked her in public sought her out in private, searching for insight into the spirit world. “I can’t remember if I ever said it, but thank you. For everything.”

  Pearl’s expression softened, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. In that moment she reminded Sarah so much of her mother it made her throat tighten. “What is it you’d like to know?”

  A barrage of questions flooded Sarah’s mind, great gaps in her knowledge demanding to be filled. Where to start, she wondered, trying to mentally rank the questions in the order of their importance. Finally, she settled on the one word that encompassed her insatiable thirst for the truth, for answers, for understanding.

  “Everything.”

  chapter 13

  It was a little after noon when David and Adam strolled through the double doors of the Auburn Green Retirement Community. They would have arrived earlier, if not for the overzealous cop who pulled David over for doing sixty in a forty-five. He’d managed to talk his way out of a two hundred dollar ticket, but it still wasted time he could have spent on more important matters.

  Like checking on Sarah. Her apartment was dark by the time he returned home the night before, scratching any chance of paying a late-night visit. He’d tried again in the morning, but she was an early riser, out the door before he even got out of the shower.

  He was anxious to see how she was adjusting to the expanding borders of her reality. Knowing Sarah, her mind was working overtime searching, questioning, and examining every angle in an effort to gain a greater understanding.

  “Wow, this place is hopping,” Adam said, pulling David from his thoughts.

  Weekends were always busy times for nursing homes. A constant flow of people streamed in and out like ants. Residents healthy enough to leave were spending the day with friends and family, going to lunch, catching a movie, or simply enjoying a change of scenery. Those too sick to leave their rooms were receiving their weekly bedside visits, a welcome break from the monotony. A delivery woman from the local florist made the rounds with a little metal cart packed with colorful bouquets.

  A pharmaceutical salesman stood at the reception area, trying to charm his way into a few minutes with the attending physician. The middle-aged woman working the desk wasn’t having any of it, though, shaking her head emphatically while lecturing the salesman about rules and regulations and the importance of scheduling an appointment. Another minute passed and the sales rep gave up, leaving his business card and a handful of promotional pens and memo pads.

  Finished with the sales rep, the receptionist shifted her attention to David and Adam. “Can I help you boys?” she asked, watching them over the rims of her glasses. She had hard eyes, dulled and jaded by whatever life had thrown her way. The perfect subject for Adam to test his abilities.

  David gave Adam a subtle nod toward the desk. “You’re up, Newbie.”

  Adam made eye contact, brows furrowed in concentration. He still got that constipated look on his face whenever he tried to influence a mortal mind, but it wasn’t as bad as before. “Yes, ma’am. We’re here to see my grandfather. We’re supposed to have lunch together.”

  “Why yes, I remember you two.” Appeased by whatever suggestion he’d slipped into her mind, her features brightened and she flashed him a toothy smile. “Would you like me to call his room and let him know you’re here?”

  “Oh no, darling,” Adam said, laying on the charm so thick it gave David a mild case of indigestion. He glanced to his left, to the oversized map of the facility. “We’re supposed to meet him in the community room. Knowing him, I bet he’s probably already there. Which way would that be?”

  “Down the hall, then take a right where it dead-ends.”

  Adam winked, and the woman blushed. “Thank you, darling.”

  The receptionist returned to her work on the computer while David and Adam took the main corridor leading to the community room. There was a light buzz in the air, a dull background hum created by the presence of so many souls in the final stages of life.

  “Enlighten me again as to why we’re here,” Adam said, smiling at a passing nurse. The kid had a natural confidence, a skill essential for reapers. After all, if you acted like you belonged somewhere most people assumed that was the case and didn’t question your presence.

  “We’re here to pick up a couple strays.” When Adam shot him a confused look, David explained
, “Every once in a while, a soul decides to hang around past its expiration. It doesn’t happen very often, but when it does it’s our job to round them up and send them on their merry way.”

  “Why wouldn’t they want to move on?”

  David shrugged. “Could be any number of reasons. They might have unfinished business, or loved ones they’re not ready to leave just yet. But for one reason or another they deviated from the natural progression.”

  “What happens if we don’t collect them?”

  “Depends. Some of them just wander around aimlessly. A few have a strong enough presence to be spotted by the occasional mortal and become fodder for ghost stories. The really powerful ones have been known to invade the living and set up shop, but that’s pretty rare.”

  Adam’s eyes got big. “You mean like The Exorcist?”

  “You got it. Those ones are a real bitch to wrangle. Once they take up shop inside a nice, warm host, it’s almost impossible to pry them out.”

  Following directions, they hooked a right at the end of the hall and followed the signs to the main community room. As they drew closer, the pulse of mortality grew stronger, a raucous cacophony fueled by the dense concentration of elderly residents riding the downward spiral.

  David pushed open the door to the community room and was greeted by a powerful blast of pending death. No fewer than twenty elderly men and women milled about the room playing cards, watching television, or chatting over a spirited game of dominoes. Each threw off a unique mortal vibe, the frequency and volume dependent on how close they were to their appointed time of departure.

  It took David a few beats to regain his equilibrium, to assimilate the overlapping sensations and begin the process of singling out the distinctive trail of their targets.

  The kid wasn’t so quick to recover.

  “Oh, God.” Adam pressed his hands against his ears. “The noise.”

  “Aw, shit.” David grabbed Adam by the arm and pulled him aside. “Easy, now.” He led the kid to the men’s restroom and checked the stalls to make sure they were alone.

  He was all too familiar with the sensory overload Adam was suffering. Nursing homes were warehouses of the dying. Be it heart disease, cancer, or just plain old age, they served as a depository for the old and infirm, the weak and unwanted. And each pending expiration threw off its own distinct signal, some weak, some strong, all collectively overpowering to an inexperienced reaper. It was like walking into a roomful of stereos, each playing a different song at full volume.

  “Listen to me,” David barked, trying to cut through the white noise choking Adam’s untrained mind. He grabbed Adam by the shoulders and gave him a hard shake. “Focus on the sound of my voice. Block out everything else.” He continued to talk, repeating the words over and over until Adam’s eyes cracked open.

  The poor bastard looked shell-shocked. Adam’s eyes locked on David as if his life depended on it. “Okay,” Adam said, his voice perched precariously on the outer edge of panic. “Now what do I do?”

  “Slowly open yourself up to the rest of the interference around you.” When Adam’s eyes widened in alarm, David added, “You can do this. Keep your primary focus on me, but slowly open yourself up to the rest. If you start to feel like it’s too much, shut it down and try again. Got it?”

  Adam shook his head but his expression was far from confident.

  “You can do this,” David reassured him. “Just let it in a little at a time.”

  David watched while Adam slowly opened his mind. It was a tedious process of open, open, overload and retreat, but eventually he managed to open himself to the overlapping signals without blowing a gasket.

  “Very good,” David said, releasing his hold on Adam’s shoulders. “The sensation you’re experiencing is created by multiple mortalities. It’s common in places like hospitals and nursing homes.” And war zones. David’s first taste had been on a Korean battlefield, a newborn reaper thrown into the deep end of the pool on his very first day on the job.

  A bead of sweat ran down Adam’s temple. Poor bastard. It was probably taking all of his concentration to keep from losing it.

  “You’re doing good,” David told him. “Take as long as you need. It just takes a little while to get used to it.”

  Adam shot him a look that said he wasn’t buying it. “It’s so loud,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “I know.”

  “I can’t think straight.”

  “Imagine you’re in a really loud concert,” David said, switching tactics. “You know how it is when the band starts playing, right?”

  Adam nodded.

  “Think of it in those terms. At first it’s so loud you can’t hear yourself think, but after a while you get used to the noise.”

  It took the better part of an hour, but eventually Adam was able to fully acclimate to the surrounding sensations.

  “Okay,” he finally said. “I think I’m good to go.”

  “You sure? If you want, you can sit this one out. It’s no big deal.”

  “No.” Adam shook his head. “I can handle it.”

  David had to give the kid credit for manning up. Adam still looked like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin, but at least he was dealing. It would have to do for the time being. “All right, let’s go.”

  Once you knew what to look for, the dead were easy to track. Their essence was patently different from mortals: stale, hollow, devoid of vitality. David used the knowledge to cut through the background clutter, homing in on their unique signal and tracing it back to the source. He found the pair in the atrium, a man and a woman, hovering over a group of four women playing Scrabble. If David had to guess, he’d say they were trying to offer advice to the players.

  “Take the south end of the room,” David said in a low voice, motioning toward the large set of double doors leading out to the gardens.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Just watch.” He knew Adam was still having trouble handling the sensory overload but didn’t want to come out and say it. No sense embarrassing the kid over something he could barely control. “It’s been a few years since I’ve had to do one of these so pay attention.”

  David walked a slow arc around the room, trying to remain inconspicuous. He got stopped a couple times, once by an elderly woman convinced he was her son, and then by a middle-aged man looking for the bathroom. He was ten feet from the strays when the woman’s gaze shifted in his direction.

  “Easy now,” he murmured, reaching out with his mind and latching onto the spirit. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

  As soon as he made contact she railed against his hold, struggling to break free. It was an exercise in futility, though, as his hold was strong and nothing short of getting knocked unconscious was going to loosen his grip. She let out a shrill cry, heard by no one but David and Adam.

  And the second spirit.

  They must have been a couple in life, David decided as the second spirit bore down on him with a vengeance. The air cooled around him, charged with the energy of the recently departed. Together they fought against him like a pair of angry mockingbirds, but without a physical presence there was little they could do to deter an experienced reaper. Already, their power was fading, the air slowly warming back to room temperature.

  The woman’s spirit let out a wail of defeat as David drew her closer. Even then she resisted, never yielding to the inexorable pull. The soul merged with his body, and David felt a rush of benevolent warmth with a hot streak of righteous indignation, a heady mixture with no trace of malevolence.

  Her partner took advantage of David’s distraction, seizing the opportunity to make a break for it. Before David had a chance to lock onto his essence, he shot across the room and faded from sight.

  “Damn it,” David swore under his breath.

  “Where’d he go?” Adam asked.

  “Hell if I know.” David closed his eyes, focusing on the runaway spirit. It took him a few moments to sense i
ts movements, panicked and erratic, heading toward the rear of the building. “Got him.” He pointed toward the door on the east side of the room. “Let’s go. We’ll split up; you go left and I’ll take the right. Call if you find him.”

  So much to learn.

  Sarah leaned forward in her chair, soaking up Pearl’s every word, amazed by the sheer scope of her family history, of the heritage she’d rejected for far too long.

  Turns out the “family gift” passed only through the Griffith women, manifesting itself differently with each generation. Some were gifted with premonition, while others could glimpse into the future. A select few possessed the ability to peer into the spirit world, communicating with those who had yet to fully sever their bonds with the mortal plane.

  Pearl was one of the rare ones with multiple talents. Not only could she communicate with the spirit world, she was also able to catch glimpses of things to come. Over the years she’d used those talents to cultivate a loyal clientele, eager for any scraps of insight she was willing to share … for a price, of course.

  “The trick’s to give them just enough information to prove you know your stuff, but not enough to answer all of their questions. That way you keep them coming back for more,” Pearl said, her tone filled with pride. She absently rubbed her wrist, now free from the padded restraints. “You remember Mrs. Zainer, don’t you?”

  “Sure I do.”

  Mrs. Zainer had lived at the end of her block during Sarah’s last two years of high school. Well-heeled and socially connected, she’d been the president of the PTA and made a point of knowing everybody’s business. Her daughter, Becky, had been the captain of the cheerleading squad and took every opportunity to taunt Sarah about her “crazy granny.”

  “Well, Janice Zainer used to come visit me every Wednesday afternoon for nearly two years. She wouldn’t so much as brush her teeth unless I told her the stars were aligned in her favor.” Pearl laughed, her eyes glittering with amusement. “And they said I was crazy.”