Sudden Death

by Donald Hanley

  “I hardly ever walk anywhere,” she pointed out. “What are we going to do?”

  “Run.”

  “Run?”

  “Run. We’re in a hurry and it’s not like we’ll get tired, right?” I grabbed her hand and pulled her forward. “Come on!”

  I started out at a light jog until she got her feet under her and then I steadily increased our pace until we were practically sprinting down the sidewalk. We quickly caught up with the two women and Olivia tried to pull her hand free so we could pass on either side of them but I hung on and our arms passed right through them. I laughed at their startled gasps and Olivia grinned at me.

  The rest of our journey seemed to take almost no time at all and we finally slowed to a walk in front of 151 Hyacinth Lane. The little white cottage sat by itself in the middle of an empty block, bordered on the back by a thick row of trees lining the Brazos River. It looked deserted but I knew Mrs. Kendricks had spells cast around it that discouraged unwelcome visitors. With any luck, that didn’t include ghosts.

  “Is she home?” Olivia asked doubtfully. Neither of us was breathing hard from our extended sprint. We’d be shoo-ins for the marathon at the next Ghost Olympics.

  “Where would she go?” I asked. “The library’s closed.” I was beginning to wonder if it would ever reopen.

  “She could be out shopping or visiting friends or taking a walk or –”

  “Okay, okay, I get the idea. Let’s go see.”

  I led the way up the flagstone walkway to the front door and tried to peer through the leaded glass pane to see if anyone was inside. Shading my eyes did no good whatsoever, since I didn’t cast a shadow. I pressed the doorbell, or tried to. My finger passed right through it.

  “I’m never going to get used to this,” I muttered. “Let’s go inside.”

  I steeled myself and stepped through the door. A moment later, Olivia joined me, looking around worriedly.

  “Peter!” she said in an anxious whisper. “What if she’s here?”

  “We want her to be here,” I reminded her.

  “I know, but what if she’s, um,” she cleared her throat, “not completely dressed? You know how witches are.”

  I’ve already seen her naked, I thought, but a revelation like that wasn’t going to do anything to reassure her. “That’s mostly just Susie,” I pointed out. “Besides, it’s the middle of the day. She’s not going to be wandering around without any clothes.” Probably.

  “If you say so,” she said reluctantly.

  “I do. I’m going to check the bedrooms, you see if she’s in the kitchen or the back yard.” She made a face. “Now what?”

  “You shouldn’t be sneaking into her bedroom. What if she’s asleep?”

  “It’s noon!”

  “She could still be sleeping! Maybe she was up late last night.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine. You check that bedrooms and I’ll check the kitchen. Happy?”

  She didn’t look happy but she walked down the hallway while I continued on into the kitchen. It was as spotless as always so there was no way to tell how long it had been since Mrs. Kendricks had been in there last. I looked out through the windows over the sink at the back yard but it was equally deserted.

  “Any luck?” I called to Olivia, just as she screamed. I raced down the hall and found her stumbling back through Mrs. Kendricks’ bedroom door, clutching her heart. “What happened?” I asked her. “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s an imp in there!” she exclaimed shakily, pointing an equally-unsteady finger at the door.

  “An imp?” I gulped. Every other time we encountered imps, things went bad very quickly. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure! It looks exactly like a black cat, just like all the other ones!”

  “A black cat?” Imps often disguised themselves as cats to move around our world without anyone noticing but not all imps were cats and not all cats were imps. “Was it wearing a collar?” I asked suspiciously.

  “How should I know?”

  “Because you were looking at it?”

  “Well, yes, but – I wasn’t looking at it,” she hedged. “I saw it lying there on the bed and I just figured, you know –” She eyed the door doubtfully. “You think it was a real cat?”

  “There’s only one way to find out.” I pushed my way through the door, resisting the urge to hold my breath like I was ducking underwater.

  Mrs. Kendricks’ bedroom was large and bright and homey, dominated by a four-poster bed of light oak against the far wall. Sunlight streamed through the windows overlooking the back yard, casting a warm glow everywhere, and stubby candles decorated nearly every horizontal surface, although none of them were currently lit.

  The colorful quilt on the bed looked handmade but my attention was on the lump of black fur positioned strategically in its center, basking in the sunlight. The creature lifted its head as I crept closer, glaring at me with baleful yellow eyes and a menacing growl. The white collar and metal tag from the animal shelter were clearly visible.

  “It’s just Merlin,” I called. A moment later, Olivia phased through the door, peering over my shoulder as Merlin expressed his displeasure at our presence with an even louder growl.

  “Why doesn’t he like me?” she grumbled. “I used to have a cat back in New Orleans.”

  “I don’t think it’s personal. Cats just don’t like ghosts, that’s all.”

  “Well, what’s he doing here anyway? I thought he belonged to Agent Prescott.”

  I looked her at incredulously. “You realize he and Mrs. Kendricks are living together now, right?”

  “They’re not married!” she protested.

  “They’re engaged,” I reminded her.

  “Engaged isn’t married!”

  “Feel free to talk them out of it,” I told her, rolling my eyes. “I guess she’s not here after all,” I added with a sigh. “I wonder where she went.”

  “I wonder when she’s coming back,” Olivia countered. “Are we going to just wait here for her?”

  “We’ve already wasted too much time coming over here. Let’s just leave her a note.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then we’ll think of something.” I chewed my lip while I held a brief staring contest with Merlin. I lost. “I wonder if Merlin can pass a message along for us.”

  “How?” she asked dubiously.

  “He’s Agent Prescott’s familiar. They have to be able to communicate somehow, otherwise what’s the point of having one?” I moved closer to the bed, holding out my hand. “Hey, Merlin.”

  “Be careful!” Olivia urged me, staying where she was.

  “What’s he going to do,” I scoffed, “scratch me? Merlin, I need you to tell Agent Prescott – er, Ryan – um, your master something important.” Merlin didn’t seem inclined to go along with my plan. He rose on his legs like a furry marionette and arched his back, hissing at me. “Come on, don’t be like that! It’s a matter of life or death!” Merlin clearly didn’t agree. He spat and snarled and leapt off the far side of the bed. I rounded the bedpost just in time to see his tail vanish under the bed skirt. “Stupid cat,” I muttered.

  “Maybe he’ll tell Agent Prescott that two ghosts were bothering him,” Olivia said hopefully. “That should count for something.”

  “Maybe,” I groused. “Come on, let’s go back to the kitchen. Mrs. Kendricks is more likely to see a note there.”

  There weren’t any scraps of paper or pens lying around in plain sight but Olivia managed to pry enough drawers open to acquire the necessary supplies. She waited expectantly with a fine-tipped marker gripped in her fist while I tried to compose a suitable message. There was so much I wanted to tell Mrs. Kendricks but I tried to keep it brief and to the point.

  Mrs. Kendricks, Olivia transcribed, something happened at the library this morning – we’re not exactly sure what – and now Peter is a ghost like me. Someone is pretending to be him and he attacked Dara and me at the apar
tment. Dara and Amy are missing and we’re worried about them.

  We think this has something to do with the stuff in your office that used to belong to Dr. Bellows Belows Bellowes. The imposter has his ring and Peter’s Philopher’s Philosophers’ Stone. You need to find him and figure out what he’s up to and stop him. He’s probably the guy who killed Peter so be very careful.

  Peter and I are going to keep looking for Dara. We’ll come back tonihgt tonight and try to make contact with you. Good luck.

  Olivia

  Olivia scrutinized her missive critically. “Maybe I should rewrite it,” she suggested. “It has a lot of mistakes on it.”

  “It’s fine,” I assured her. “It’s not an English paper.”

  “Well, I don’t want her to think I can’t spell or anything.”

  “It really doesn’t matter as long as she gets the idea. Put it somewhere where she’ll see it when she gets back.” Olivia grimaced but complied, setting the sheet on the cooking island. “Okay, that’s done. Now we just need to figure what to do next.”

  “I thought we were going to look for Dara.” she frowned.

  “Do you have any idea where she might have gone?” She shook her head. “Even if she took the shadowed paths to get away from this guy, she can’t stay there for long and besides, she’s not the type of person to run away and hide. She’s going to come back and make sure the rest of us are okay, right?” Olivia nodded. “The problem is, we’re ghosts, so she’s not going to be able to find us, so she’ll have to get help. Right?” She nodded again. “So where would she go?”

  “Here?” she suggested hesitantly.

  I opened my mouth to counter her argument and then closed it again. “I was going to say she’d ask Susie but you’re probably right. They don’t like each other very much.” I drummed my fingers on the counter, generating no sound whatsoever. “The only other person she might try is Melissa but her powers are mostly good for killing people, not finding them. No, you’re right, she’ll come here first.” I looked around doubtfully. “Unless she’s already been here and that’s why Mrs. Kendricks is gone.”

  “I’m confused,” Olivia complained. “Are we staying or going?”

  “Both.” At her quizzical look, I explained, “You stay here and wait for Mrs. Kendricks or Dara to show up. You can tell them – well, write them – what happened and see if you can come up with a way to find this guy.”

  “And what are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to go back to the police station and talk to Mrs. Phipps again. She has to remember something about what happened last night in the library. Maybe she found something in Dr. Bellowes’ belongings that could help us.” Olivia’s skeptical look wasn’t very reassuring. “I’m grasping at straws,” I admitted, “but we can’t just sit here and hope someone notices what’s going on. As soon as we tell Mrs. Kendricks what happened, she’ll be able to do something about it.” I certainly hoped that was true, anyway. “And then she can tell Mom and Dad and Susie that I’m dead,” I added somberly.

  “Oh, Peter.” Olivia’s sympathetic touch on my hand was comforting and I grasped her fingers in gratitude. “All right, I’ll wait here, but how are we going to find you again?”

  “I’ll come back here when I’m done. I’ll try to be back by six o’clock, okay?” Even with the challenges of ghost walking, that was more than enough time to get to the station and back.

  “Okay,” she sighed. She surprised me by leaning in and kissing me lightly on the cheek. “That’s for luck,” she said shyly.

  “I could certainly use some,” I said wryly. “Okay, I’ll see you later.”

  Olivia nodded, looking worried, and I exited through the front door. I pointed myself in the general direction of the police station and started running.

  This time I didn’t bother avoiding any obstacles, passing through cars and pedestrians and fences and trees heedlessly. I did go around the buildings, though, largely because I needed to see where I was going. I pushed myself as hard as I could, until I was racing through town faster than anyone on Coach Foster’s track team could ever dream of going. Physics and biology were just afterthoughts in the spirit world, apparently.

  My aim was a bit off and I arrived on Jefferson Street three blocks north of the station. A brief sprint brought me to the employee entrance just a couple of minutes later. I stepped through the door and hurried along the main hallway towards the jail, hoping that Sergeant Finney was out taking another cigar break so that I could talk to Mrs. Phipps alone. I passed Dad’s office and then stopped in my tracks. The door was ajar and a familiar voice was speaking.

  “– said she was wandering around the library in the middle of the night.”

  “Mrs. Kendricks?” I called out loud, surprised.

  She wasn’t visible through the gap and it wasn’t wide enough to squeeze through, so I phased through the door. Mrs. Kendricks was alone in the office, talking on her cellphone. She wore her usual sort of outfit, a light linen blouse and a knee-length paisley skirt, and her strawberry-blonde hair was pinned up with a pair of cherrywood wands. A large floppy purse made from woven hemp lay on its side on Dad’s desk.

  “I can’t imagine,” she went on, oblivious to my presence. “The library’s been closed since Bellaxragor damaged the wall.” That narrowed down the list of people she could be talking to. She wouldn’t mention Bellaxragor Stormreaper to anyone outside the witching community.

  She perused Dad’s wall of framed certificates and citations as she listened to whatever the other person was saying. “Not that I know of. She’s a bit eccentric – she’s in her seventies, after all – but she’s never done anything like this before.” She grimaced. “Maybe, but there’s something very disturbing about the way she described her experience, like she was asleep and someone else was in control.” She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “I don’t know, that’s why I called you.”

  She leaned on the edge of Dad’s desk, listening pensively and nodding occasionally. “That’s exactly what it sounds like. No, she’s perfectly fine now, just confused. Peter said she seemed normal when he found her.”

  “What?” I exclaimed, startled. “When did I say that?”

  Mrs. Kendricks chuckled. “He’s a police officer now, remember? He and his partner found her standing in the hallway looking lost.”

  “That’s not true!” I protested. “She was in your office! She jumped me!”

  “I have no idea,” she went on. “It’s a library. There’s nothing special in there, just a lot of ordinary books.” Her voice was perfectly normal but the anxious look in her eyes and the way she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear made it clear she was lying.

  “You think she was after Dr. Bellowes’ stuff, don’t you?” I accused her. “You tried to pretend he was never here and now you’re worried someone might have found out you kept everything in your office.”

  “So what are we going to do about this?” Mrs. Kendricks pressed. “Yes, of course I do,” she sounded irked, “but she’s not possessed anymore. We need to find this thing and deal with it before it causes more problems. No, I haven’t, but they’re not going to tell a civilian about other cases of erratic behavior even if someone does report them. Erratic, not erotic. Get your mind out of the gutter, Ryan,” she chided. “I miss you, too. When are you coming back?” Her wistful smile faded into a look of disappointment. “That long? No, I understand,” she sighed.

  She pushed herself off the desk and starting pacing back and forth. “Is there anyone else in your department who could help?” She stopped in mid-stride, looking alarmed, and then continued her orbit of the office. “No, there’s no reason to bother her about something like this. I’ll tell the coven to keep watch and I’ll ask Chief Collins if he’ll let me know about any similar incidents. I need to talk to him anyway. I want to see if he’ll drop the charges against Mrs. Phipps.”

  She listened to the response and huffed a sigh. “Yes, I know demonic possession isn
’t a legal defense but it’s her first time being arrested, no one was hurt, and she didn’t cause any damage. He might be willing to let her go with a warning or something. If not, I’ll ask Tara to represent her. Tara. Tara Kingsley. You met her a couple of weeks ago.” She rolled her eyes. “Yes, the black girl. Of course she’s a real lawyer. Well, whoever heard of a librarian-witch or an FBI agent-warlock?” she retorted and then snorted in amusement at Prescott’s reply.

  “I better let you go,” she said. “I have a bunch of calls to make and you have demons to hunt. Please be careful,” she added somberly. “I know, but I’m going to worry anyway. I’ll call you tonight, okay? I love you. Goodbye and take care.”

  Mrs. Kendricks hung up and set her phone on the desk, massaging her forehead with her fingertips. She looked a lot older than her thirty-five years as she took in a long breath and let it out slowly, but then she lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders resolutely. She retrieved her phone and tapped one of her contacts, drumming her fingers on the desktop as she listened to the ringing.

  “It’s Arial,” she said finally. “Are you free right now? We need to talk.” She shook her head. “No, face to face. Meet me in the library. I’m heading over there right now.”

  “Huh?” I’d assumed she was talking to Tara but there was no reason for them to meet at the library. Mrs. Phipps was here at the station. “What’s going on?”

  “Not over the phone. I’ll see you there shortly, all right?” Mrs. Kendricks listened, nodded, and ended the call.

  She tucked her phone into her purse and slung it over her shoulder, striding to the door before I could scramble out of the way. Her arm intersected mine and she started, rubbing her arm as she frowned up at the air conditioning vent. She left, closing the door behind her, but I jumped through and followed her down the hall, wondering what the heck was going on.

  Mrs. Kendricks exited through the lobby, pausing a moment to exchange pleasantries with Mrs. Burns before stepping out into the sunlight. She headed straight for her BMW in the visitor’s parking lot and slid in behind the wheel, dropping her purse into the passenger seat. I climbed into the back behind her as she turned on the car and let the interior cool off. Her blue eyes were strained with worry as she checked the rearview mirror.