by L. T. Ryan
“That’s all we can hope for.”
Magdalena reached out to rub Cassie’s shoulder, but she let her arm fall. She knew Cassie still had trouble with people touching her, specifically her scars. Cassie offered an apologetic smile, but Magdalena waved it away.
“We’re all works in progress,” Magdalena said, “right up until the day we die. You’ve been through more than most. You deserve to be happy. Don’t ever forget that.”
Cassie nodded but couldn’t speak. A sudden well of emotion caught in her throat and she had to swallow it back down. It was not sadness or happiness, but a strange combination of the two. So much of her life had been taken from her because of her encounters with Novak, but it had also allowed her to help many people. She couldn’t erase her nightmares without erasing her dreams, too.
But that was in her past. Novak would never hurt her again. She could start rebuilding the life he had destroyed. And that had all started with this job. She hadn’t been working at the SCAD Museum of Art for long, but it already felt like home. With her art history degree from the Savannah College of Art and Design giving her an “in” at the museum, she landed a position as an art preparator. Working with artifacts and displays was more than she ever could’ve hoped for at this time last year.
Maybe someday she would become a curator, but she still had trouble looking that far in the future. She had spent so long staring death in the face it was sometimes difficult for her to remember she was allowed to live.
Magdalena clicked her tongue, and Cassie saw she was staring at the front page of the newspaper.
“What is it?”
“Have you heard about those women who keep turning up dead?”
“Yeah.” Cassie felt another lump rise in her throat, but it was nothing like the last one. “Did they find another one?”
Magdalena nodded. “Twenty-eight years old. Can you believe that? Had her whole life ahead of her. And some jerk snatched it away just because he could.”
Cassie shivered. She knew what it felt like to be one of those women. Novak had made her feel so powerless. She hadn’t understood fear until she came face to face with him, twice. It pained her to imagine someone else going through that, too. And they hadn’t been as lucky as she had. Though some might argue they had been luckier. They didn’t have to live in this realm with the knowledge of what it was like to be a survivor. To carry those memories forever. And for Cassie, it had been worse. All their psychic energy weighed down on her. At least, it had. Things were different now.
“Look at me runnin’ my mouth,” Magdalena said, folding the paper in half. “You need to say something when I get going or I’ll never stop.”
“It’s fine,” Cassie said. When Magdalena leveled her with another look, Cassie reached over and patted the woman’s hand. “Really, it’s fine. I can’t go around scared for the rest of my life. That’s what these last few months have been about. Fortifying myself against the world.”
“Don’t fortify yourself too much.” Magdalena cast a significant glance over her shoulder.
“What was that you were saying about talking too much?”
The woman let out a belly laugh as her phone chimed. When she dug it out of her pocket, her smile faded.
Cassie already knew what it was about, but she asked anyway. “Is something wrong?”
“It’s Roger. He’s not feeling well. Sorry, Cassie. I know this is a big day for you, and we had dinner planned and everything—”
“You’ve got enough to worry about without worrying about me, too, Mags. Take care of your hubby. We’ll go out when he’s feeling better.”
“Are you sure?” She leaned in closer. “You could always come over to our place. I know you don’t always like to be home alone.”
“I’m sure.” Cassie plastered on a smile she hoped was convincing. “I’d get in your way. Let’s try again next week.”
“Next week,” Magdalena said, tapping away at her phone. When she looked up again, she had a devilish look in her eye. “You could always ask Jason.”
“Maybe I will.”
Magdalena patted her hand before taking the newspaper and heading to her office. They both knew Cassie was lying, but neither one of them would say so. That’s what friends were for and Magdalena had proven to be a good one over the last few months.
With her evening plans canceled, Cassie had trouble feeling excited about what the day had in store for her. A few minutes ago, she was looking forward to unpacking their new shipment of Vera Wang accessories and meticulously cataloging each and every one of them. Now, all she could think about were the extra hours she would be spending at home. Alone.
It was strange how a bad piece of news could snatch that newfound happiness away like it had never existed in the first place.
Cassie gathered the shipping papers she had been searching for, her heart heavy with anticipation. Even Jason’s kind smile as he passed by wasn’t enough to lift her spirits.
Today was not the day.
Three
Cassie used her hip to shut the car door, then hit the lock button on her key fob until she heard the beep. She took a deep breath but refused to look at the front of her house yet. Instead, she stared up into the night sky, willing the clouds to clear so she could catch a glimpse of just one star. But it wouldn’t have mattered. When the evenings were clear, light pollution still made the sky hazy and gray.
Still, she embraced the feel of the night air as it blew through her auburn hair, causing a few strands to tickle her cheeks. She wasn’t an outdoors kind of person, but there was something special about the night sky that made her want to spread a blanket out on the grass and be one with the universe.
Cassie waited a few more seconds and lowered her gaze to the front of her house. It was an unassuming, Southern-style bungalow with gray siding and red trim. Although it was small compared to most other houses on the street, it was the perfect size for her and had a guest bedroom. Not that she ever needed it.
Cassie placed her hand on the front gate and passed through the entrance, letting it swing shut behind her. When she heard the click of the latch, she walked across the stone pavers with measured steps. Up the stairs. Onto the porch. In front of the door.
She had always loved her door. It was a deep red garnet. It was bold without being garish. The right touch to make her house stand out amidst the boring whites and beiges of her neighbors.
Cassie knew she was stalling, but the time had come. She took out her keys, jingled them once, and stuck the correct one in the lock and twisted. When she heard the bolt slide, she turned the handle and pushed open the door.
And right on cue, her house guest greeted her.
An angry meow pierced the air, and, despite her mood, Cassie couldn’t help but smile.
“Hello, Mr. Apollo.” Cassie was subjected to another piercing meow. “I know, I know. I’m late. I took myself out to dinner tonight. I had plans to go with Magdalena, but Roger was sick again.”
Apollo’s bright green eyes stared at her from the darkness. The orange and white patches on his face seemed to glow in defiance of the jet-black parts of his body that blended into the shadows. He blinked at her once and trotted forward, brushing himself along her legs. He forgave her and Cassie was content to run through her entire day with him, from the conversation with Magdalena in the morning, to cataloging the Vera Wang pieces in the afternoon, to the fact that Jason had waited ten minutes for her after his shift had ended so they could walk to their cars together.
“He said he had been finishing up paperwork, but I know for a fact that isn’t true. Tonya at the front desk says he hands in everything half an hour early and does one more sweep of the museum until the night shift arrives.”
Cassie rattled off whatever came to mind, and Apollo responded with various intonations of his meow whenever she paused to take a breath. She knew he was looking for his dinner and maybe a couple of treats, but part of her liked to believe he enjoyed the sound of her voice, too.
&n
bsp; And it was better than listening to the dead silence of the house.
For the rest of the evening, Cassie moved from room to room, watering plants and washing yesterday’s dishes and tidying up spots she had already tidied up yesterday. She kept herself busy, all while talking to Apollo or humming whatever song had been playing on the radio during her drive home.
Anything to avoid her bedroom. Anything to tire herself out so she’d be able to fall asleep. Her bedroom was the one area in her house that defied the rules the rest of her life had followed over the last four months. The one area that held the anomaly.
That’s what she had been calling it, anyway. The anomaly. Like giving it another name changed what it was.
It didn’t.
But it was midnight, and she would have to be up in six hours. There was no avoiding it. She looked down at Apollo, who responded with sleepy eyes and a yawning meow, and made her way to her room. It was always a few degrees cooler in there. It was nice during the hot Savannah summers, but Cassie wasn’t sure the tradeoff was quite worth that perk.
Apollo stopped at the threshold to her room and stared into the corner Cassie always avoided looking at. Instead, she washed her face, brushed her teeth, and changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top while keeping her back to the southern wall of her room.
Not that it mattered. Ghosts didn’t care if you wore clothes or not. She wasn’t sure if they saw her the way humans saw her. Did she glitch in and out while they stayed static? Was she a hologram to them? Could they see through her?
Cassie peeled back her comforter and crawled under the top sheet, fluffing her pillow into the perfect shape. Apollo stood guard at her bedroom door. Her uninvited guests didn’t alarm him, though there had been exceptions. She’d had him long enough that he was accustomed to all but the angriest of spirits. But there was something about this one that had made him reluctant to get close.
Settled into her usual spot, Cassie forced her gaze to the corner of the room she had been avoiding. It was her nighttime routine. She called it her very own brand of exposure therapy. Ghosts hardly scared her or took her by surprise these days, but she’d gotten so used to their absence over the last few months that when this one showed up at random, it was like she was starting from the beginning, back when she was learning ghosts were real for the very first time.
As Cassie’s gaze found the boy in the corner of her room, their eyes locked. He always stood there, pressed up against the wall, his arms hanging loose at his sides. He was almost solid. She could still see the wall through his head, even in the dark. He never broke eye contact and he rarely blinked.
He was dressed in an oversized t-shirt and neon shorts, clearly from the ‘80s. The colors were dull, but not from age or use. That’s how most ghosts appeared—like the color had been drained from their skin, their clothes, their souls.
The boy was maybe eight years old. If he were any older, he’d have been tiny for his age. He never spoke to her. At times, it was a relief. And at others, it was maddening. She had no idea what he needed from her, and she didn’t know why all the other spirits had faded when he had not.
She spent ten years seeing and speaking for the dead, but Cassie couldn’t land on a set of rules for the otherworld. Some spoke in words, while others spoke in images. Some could move objects with ease while others passed through everything they touched. Some refused to move on until she helped them, while others faded away before she had the chance.
The little boy didn’t break eye contact, and Cassie knew he wouldn’t. She gave him a few minutes, hoping and dreading that he might say something. But he stared and stared and stared.
She shifted away from him and closed her eyes. As she fell asleep, her mind drifted from one memory to the next. Magdalena and Jason filled her with a warmth she tried to hold onto, but she could still feel the spirit in the corner of the room staring at her. The inability to wish him away cast a deep shadow across any happiness the day had brought her. And she knew tomorrow would be the same. So would the next day. And the next.
When Cassie slipped into a restless sleep, she didn’t dream. She hadn’t dreamt in months. The portents that had once filled her nights were absent.
She saw and felt nothing at all.
Four
He stepped out of his car and looked up at a sky littered with stars. Out here in the country, he could breathe. The clean air energized him. Nature connected him to the world. To the entire universe. He could do everything he wanted. Nothing would stop him.
No more fear.
Not even death could stop him.
He circled his vehicle and opened the rear passenger side door. In the back seat sat a large plastic storage container. The kind with handles on each end that flipped up and secured the lid in place. He had learned a thing or two since the first time, including how important it was to make certain everything stayed cool for as long as possible. He had to complete all his tasks before deterioration, and there was always so much to do.
Unable to help himself, he popped open the lid. On one end was a covered bucket, and on the other was a small, empty container. Seeing the dash of red on the inside of the plastic made his heart beat faster.
This was the answer to all his problems. This would grant him the freedom to look up at the stars for years to come.
He restrained himself from opening the lid to the bucket despite an incessant need to make sure everything was safe. This time had been smoother than the last. His learning curve no longer hindered the mission. He was now working toward mastery.
With that skill came a calm he couldn’t put into words. It was faith in himself and trust in the outcome. He had no other option but to believe this would work. Anything else would have been quitting.
The very idea left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He secured the lid back in place, snapped the handles closed, and lifted the container out of the car. The weight of it always surprised him. The human body was a miraculous system. When he was finally free of the ticking clock that carried him closer to the end, he would do his part to learn more. He had much to accomplish yet.
The stairs leading up to the front of the house did not pose a problem. The steps descending to the basement always made him wary. They were steep and narrow and bent under the additional weight of the container he carried down. He would fix that in due time.
Setting the container on the ground, he looked over at the table he had set up against one of the concrete walls. Everything had been in place for a while, but he was compelled to go through the list of items again.
Two candles were lit, and he was about to light the third. A dagger lay hidden under the table until it was time for it to fulfill its purpose. The lines he had drawn on the wall in his own blood were starting to darken and fade. Now was the perfect moment to refresh them.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. A calm apathy replaced a split second of annoyance. He checked the message and allowed himself to smile. Everything was going according to plan.
“Three down,” he whispered to nobody. “Four to go.”
Five
Cassie’s eyes were open before her alarm went off. She felt the gaze of the boy in the corner of the room like a thorn in her skin but refused to look in his direction. Like most mornings, she anticipated his energy. Today was a new day, and that always replenished the positivity her evenings had drained from her. There was something about the sun shining in the sky, the heat in the air, the breeze amongst the trees. It felt like hope.
Maybe today would be the day.
When she picked out her clothes, Cassie tried channeling Magdalena. Her wardrobe was full of black and gray and navy, but she reached into the depths of her closet to produce a bright yellow blouse. Unlike most of her wardrobe, it was more revealing. The tips of her scars would be visible along the neckline. Cassie pulled it on over her head anyway.
Throughout the year, she was prone to wearing long sleeves and full-length pants. The heat seldom both
ered her, and her fingers were always as cold as icicles, even on the hottest of days. But today was a new day, and she was ready to start fresh. She wanted to start fresh.
She turned to Apollo and held her arms out wide. He meowed his approval.
The drive to work was uneventful, as was her arrival at the SCAD Museum of Art. She greeted Magdalena and Jason and Tonya on her way in. The museum seemed brighter, and the warmth of her coffee spread through her chest like the gentle touch of an old friend. Though she couldn’t help but tug up her shirt every few minutes, she felt powerful and beautiful and determined.
But she had about two hours of peace.
A knock on her office door startled her, but she forced her voice to steady as she yelled, “Come in!”
Jason entered, looking sheepish. “Sorry to bother you.”
“Oh, it’s okay.” Cassie’s voice was less steady. He hadn’t visited her in her office, though whenever they passed each other throughout the museum they would say hello and chat for a few minutes. Her heart started thumping against her ribs, but she couldn’t help the smile that spread over her face. “How are you?”
“I’m good. This a bad time? Do you have a few minutes?”
“No, not at all. What can I do for you?”
“Uh, it’s not for me. There’s a Detective Adelaide Harris here to see you.”
Cassie’s heart skipped a beat for a different reason this time. She looked beyond Jason and noticed a tall, lean woman standing behind him. She wore a taupe pantsuit that complemented her bronze skin. Her chestnut hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail, and she looked as though she never smiled while on the job.
Cassie didn’t know what to do.
Detective Harris stepped forward. “I apologize for bothering you at work, Ms. Quinn, but it couldn’t wait. Would you mind if we talked for a few minutes?”
“Uh, sure.” Cassie’s heart felt like it would burst out of her chest, but she kept the forced smile on her face. “Thank you, Jason. I’ll take it from here.”
