by S D Hegyes
4
For the second night in a row, Sorsha found herself in Wagers. At least this time she felt more comfortable in a pair of black combat boots, skin-tight blue jeans, and a long-sleeve green blouse with a deep v-neck that would give anyone a nice view of her cleavage.
It was the tamest thing she could wear without hearing Irene tell her off—even though it was Irene’s idea to hang out at Wagers.
Walking through the front door, Sorsha pulled her purse off her shoulder and shrugged off her winter jacket, looking around for the shorter blond woman.
She knew Irene was there. Irene had called her ten minutes earlier, yelling over the din of the crowded bar, to ask where she was.
Even after two years, her friend didn’t seem to remember Sorsha always walked to and from the bar. She’d remember when Sorsha left, talking about whether or not she should order an Uber, but was too focused on having a good time prior to that.
Not that Sorsha blamed Irene. She knew, in a different time and place, and probably with a different upbringing, she might have felt the same.
The packed bar reinforced Sorsha’s thoughts from the night before. Someone from the blood bank had to have rented the entire bar. Despite the number of people inside Wagers, it wasn’t hard to find her friend.
Irene danced with someone, grinding against him despite the song playing being too heavy for such dancing. Sorsha grinned. Her friend certainly stood out with her dark skin gleaming in the low light, offsetting the skin-tight gold dress she wore. On anyone else, Sorsha might have thought the dress gaudy and flashy, but Irene rocked it.
She spun around, her hair nearly hitting her partner in the face. Sorsha covered her mouth with her hand, but she had to admire Irene’s new hairdo. She sported a bunch of miniature cornrow braids that pulled her hair up toward the top of her head where they wove together and fell down on either side of her face in twin French braids that ended just past her breasts.
When Irene twirled again, it didn’t surprise Sorsha to see that her partner looked a little lost on how to dance with her. Irene danced to her own tune, which didn’t match the one the live band played. A local heavy metal group, Wagers’ usual cover band.
Sorsha laughed and walked toward them.
Irene saw her first, and her braids bounced as she jumped up and down, heading toward Sorsha and pulling her close, a wide grin on her face.
“There you are,” she said. “I was beginning to think you’d bailed on me.”
Sorsha shook her head. “Never. I said I’d come. Here I am.” She didn’t really want to be there, but she’d agreed to come, and she hadn’t balked on Irene before, no matter how tempting it might be.
“We got a table over there if you’d like to set your coat down,” Irene told her, pointing to the opposite side of the bar.
The bar was opposite the door. To the right of the entrance, along the wall, were several small tables and a couple of billiard tables. Two doors along the back wall led to a men’s and women’s bathroom. To the entrance’s left, facing the door and bar, a stage was located as a focal point.
Sorsha walked to the table Irene pointed out and saw her friend’s belongings at them. How Irene could leave her purse at the table with her coat, Sorsha didn’t know. A waitress stopped to clear empty glasses from the table and asked Sorsha if she’d like anything. She threw her jacket across the back of one chair and made her order before she sat down, smiling as she watched Irene continue dancing.
The lead singer screamed into the mic, but Sorsha didn’t understand any of the words coming out of his mouth. The music was good though, even if she couldn’t comprehend half of it.
Her drink arrived, and she smiled at the waitress as she paid for it. She sipped a beer, unsure of what to make of Irene’s dance partner. The poor man looked out of his element, and she had to wonder who’d asked the other to dance.
Irene joined her when the song ended, flagging down a waitress who brought her a fruity drink. She giggled as she clinked her glass against Sorsha’s beer bottle and took a drink. Then she laced her fingers together, elbows on the table, and propped her chin upon her hands, a knowing smirk on her face. “So, what about you, missy?”
“What about me?” Sorsha blinked in confusion.
“What’s going on with you and Mr. C.E.O.?” The way she worded CEO, there was no doubt in Sorsha’s mind she’d emphasized it on purpose.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sorsha shook her head.
Irene tipped her head to the other side of the bar. When Sorsha followed her gaze, she saw the man she’d met, however briefly, the night before. “Something must have happened between the two of you,” Irene pointed out. “Why else would he be here? Face it, Sorsha. This isn’t the kind of place big-wig company owners come to.”
Sorsha laughed at that. “Man, it’s almost like you heard my thoughts last night. I kept wondering why they chose to host a party here. I mean, I like Wagers, but look around. This isn’t a company party place.”
Laughing, Irene patted Sorsha’s cheek. “I may have mentioned the place in a higher-up’s ear enough times they thought it was a great place to party.” She winked as she pushed her chair back and finished off her drink. “I’m going to go dance. Give Mr. CEO a chance to come over here and talk to you.” With another wink, Irene was gone, her hips sashaying as she moved across the dance floor.
The only warning Sorsha had that she wasn’t alone anymore was the fact that power whispered through her veins. She clenched her teeth, willing her ability to behave even as she took a swig of her drink.
“Alone, Miss Phantom?”
She lowered the bottle, blinking in the low light of the bar. Not that she had any trouble seeing Frank Thirst standing before her.
What is he doing at Wagers? Last night made sense as he’s the own of the blood bank, but now? The night after?
It didn’t make sense.
She studied his face before she answered. There was something off about the man, something that made her narrow her eyes as she studied him. His face was all lean angles and hard edges. He was quite handsome, she decided, but the aura of danger about him made her lean further back in her chair, away from him.
She sat her bottle down and licked her lips, watching his reaction.
His eyes followed her movements, and she realized what about him unnerved her. His eyes. They were red.
A flash of red drifted across her memory, but it was gone before she could even register it had ever been there. She shook her head in frustration.
“You’re not alone then?” Frank asked, looking about, as if searching for Sorsha’s partner.
“I’m alone,” she told him. His eyes flicked back to her. “Can I help you, Mr. Thirst?”
He grinned at her, and she saw he had two elongated canines that reminded her of a snake’s fangs. Her frown deepened.
“May I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the chair across from her with one hand.
She shrugged one shoulder and took a drink of her beer, eyeing him.
Keep your friends close. Keep your enemies closer.
She wasn’t sure why that phrase popped into her head, but it did, and she knew better than to ignore it. Every instinct in her told her the man sitting across from her was bad news.
His smile unnerved her, his red eyes crinkling at the corners. She looked around, wondering if anyone else saw what she did. She doubted it, or they’d be running from him screaming.
As it was, when the waitress stopped by to ask if Frank wanted anything to drink, she ignored Sorsha as if she wasn’t there, despite being the one to bring her a beer, smiling coyly at the man and running a finger down his chest in flirtation.
Sorsha’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, and her eyes darted from the waitress to the man again. Every instinct told her to leave the bar. She ignored it. There was no way she would leave Irene at Wagers with him. Not unless she knew her friend was safe.
The man—or whatever he was—grinned
wider and turned his complete attention to the waitress, cupping her ass with one hand, and telling her he didn’t intend to stay and wouldn’t be needing anything. Red eyes flicked Sorsha’s direction, satisfaction deep within them.
He patted the waitress’s behind and sent her off, all without taking his eyes off Sorsha.
“You’re up to something,” she told him. “I just can’t figure out what.”
He laughed. “Oh, Sorsha. You really are an interesting young woman. Not affected by my charms either. How. . . refreshing.”
The tone of the last word left Sorsha’s skin crawling, and she shuddered.
The urge to protect Irene from him grew. She didn’t pretend to understand it. It was odd and primal and out of place. The man hadn’t done anything to indicate he meant any harm, but something about his words and the way he spoke them had her nerves on fire and ready to defend those associated with her.
She snorted at him. “Really, Mr. Thirst? Interesting? Try that on every woman you wanna fuck?”
“Oh, my dear. I have no intention of fucking you. I’d have better luck with your friend. Irene? I’m sure she’d be much more willing anyway. No, Miss Phantom.” He paused, his brow scrunched in thought as he mused over the words he’d said.
He stood and walked around the table, leaning toward her so that his mouth was level with her ear. “There’s more chance of my killing you than kissing you, I’m afraid. If you honestly understood what I am, what you are, I’m pretty certain we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“Or,” she countered, even though she had no idea what he was talking about, “I’m waiting until we’re not in a crowded place.”
Frank Thirst? Kill her? Somehow, she doubted it. This was all a dance, one she didn’t understand. He wanted to rattle her, and she refused to show him it worked.
She gave him a smirk she hoped would tell him as much. “Another thing I’d like to note, Mr. Thirst. I don’t take too kindly to threats. To myself or my friends. I hope you’ll remember that in the future.
He pulled back and met her gaze. She didn’t look away or blink, despite his strange eyes, even as she finished her beer. His smile faltered, and she knew the moment he realized she meant every word.
“Get the fuck away from me, and don’t ever threaten me again.” She kept her voice even, but she could feel the chill in her own words and the power whispering through her veins roared as it rose up. She clenched her hands and willed it quiet once more.
She shivered as he straightened, pulling the edges of his coat down, as if that would rectify the fact that he was running away with his tail tucked between his legs. “Until we meet again, Miss Phantom.”
She didn’t reply, only narrowed her eyes and watched as he made his way through the throng of people on the dance floor and walked out the door. Only after she was sure he was gone, and her abilities quiet, did she sneer and mutter, “Not in this lifetime if I can help it.”
Irene had the decency to wait until the man was gone before she appeared, grinning ear-to-ear. “So, what did Mr. CEO want?”
Sorsha forced a smile. “Are you good? I think I’m going to head home.”
“You’re bailing on me?” Irene pouted.
“It’s been a long day—” She let her words trail off as she shrugged one shoulder. It was easier to let Irene draw her own conclusions.
“Go take care of your business. I’ve got this covered.” Irene winked.
“Thanks.” Sorsha gave her a hug as she stood. “I’ll talk to you later. Cool?”
Irene pointed at her. “You owe me.”
Sorsha grinned over her shoulder as she snagged her coat and purse. “I think you’re in capable hands. I know you well enough. You won’t leave lonely.”
Irene laughed and waved her off. “See you Monday.”
Sorsha frowned as soon as she turned away from Irene, and pulled her cell phone from her purse. She ordered an Uber before leaning against the side of the bar. Sorsha crossed her arms over her chest as she thought about the evening’s events so far and waited for her ride.
5
The Uber dropped Sorsha at the front entrance, and she frowned as she looked around. The sun had long sunk over the horizon, and it was dark, but she’d never understood why there wasn’t more lighting for the cemetery. She couldn’t be the only person who visited after dark.
The driver looked at her. “Why would you come here at night?” She shivered. “It’s creepy.”
Sorsha said, “I have a skin condition and can’t be out in the sun too long. I can only visit at night.”
The woman’s mouth dropped open and she stared at Sorsha. Sorsha could see the wheels turning in her mind. Sorsha wasn’t telling the truth, but the look on the woman’s face was worth the lie.
Turning away, Sorsha followed the curve of the road to a large wall with several name plaques. When the cemetery had grown overcrowded with graves, someone had thought to put up a wall memorial instead. The stone wall stood well over Sorsha’s head and was nearly as thick. The monument served as a tomb for dozens. Sorsha hadn’t the first clue how many were interred in the wall.
It was an interesting way of burying the dead in Sorsha’s opinion, and there was a lot of taste in the wall’s design. The monument honored those who’d passed well.
She’d been to the cemetery often and knew most of the names already, but there was a new one she hadn’t seen before, and she stopped to gaze at it.
“Michael,” she read aloud. For a moment, she wondered who he’d been in life, but then another presence caught her attention.
She turned, feeling her power tingle inside her. “Come out, come out. Wherever you are.” Her lip curled up at the sing-song aspect of her voice, even as her power flared and orange vapors drifted from the ends of her fingers, curling back and weaving around the digits before engulfing her hand and finally winding its way along her arms and ending at her elbows.
The night was still for a moment, and then came the words, “What do you want, witch?”
She sighed. “Ray, you know as well as I do that I’m not a witch.”
“You seem like a witch to me.” The spirit took corporeal visage before her, giving her a crooked frown and crossing his arms over his chest.
Ray had lived in the country. Why he’d been buried in the city, she didn’t know, and he wouldn’t tell her. He’d been a farmer, but he couldn’t recall how he’d died. The only thing he could remember was a large beast, larger than he’d seen before, in the woods that ran along the back edges of his fields.
The spirit wore a pair of coveralls and some heavy-duty work boots. He’d grinned at her when she’d asked about them and told her they’d been steal-toed. He hadn’t had them long before his death, he remembered that much.
“I’ve met a couple of witches, and I can assure you, that’s not what I am. Closer to a medium, but not quite the same as them either.” She’d spoken to enough mediums to know that for a fact. Mediums could see ghosts, but they couldn’t physically interact with them the way Sorsha could. She still had scars she couldn’t remember getting.
He grunted. “Doesn’t matter. What do you want?”
“Any new spirits to the cemetery, Ray?”
His arms fell to his side, and his smile faded. He glanced behind him and then back at Sorsha. “You have a sixth sense for this kind of thing, don’t you?”
“I have no idea what you mean.” She cocked her head to the side and considered Ray.
It was his turn to sigh. “Follow me.”
Although he gave the impression of walking, he strode half a foot off the ground. Sorsha followed behind him and stopped when he paused beside a fresh grave without a headstone. “Here,” he said, gesturing to the grave. “They buried her today.”
“Do you know her name?”
“Gloria.”
“Thanks, Ray.”
He grunted. He shifted from foot-to-foot. “Don’t try to convince me to join that deck of yours, witch. I won�
�t do it.”
“I know, Ray. Thank you.”
He gave her a nod and dissipated, leaving her alone.
Sorsha sighed and looked at the grave, fear making goosebumps pop up along her arms. She took a deep breath and whispered to the grave the single name Ray had told her. “Gloria?”
She couldn’t call a spirit without knowing their full name, but she could hope Gloria heard her and answered.
A few moments later, a horizontal translucent form drifted up from the grave. It had its arms crossed over its chest and its eyes closed. The figure restings atop the grave looked exactly as she had in death. She wore a dress with holly dotting it and her hair pulled back in curls with butterfly clips.
Sorsha’s breath hissed between clenched teeth. This was a child.
“G. . .” She cleared her throat. “Gloria?”
The child blinked open sleepy eyes and rubbed at them. “Who are you? Where am I? How’d I get here? Where’s my mommy and daddy?”
“Shit.” Sorsha looked around the cemetery. “Ray, you fucking asshole. This isn’t fair.”
The child looked more confused than scared. She climbed to her feet before Sorsha and giggled. “You’re saying bad words. My mommy always says she’ll wash my mouth out with soap if she hears me saying bad words.”
Sorsha crouched before the girl. “Your mommy’s absolutely right.” She smiled at the child and held out her hand. “Do you know what happened, Gloria?”
The spirit’s brow scrunched up in concentration. Then she looked around. “There was a man. He offered me ice cream. Mommy and Daddy are always talking about how there were trucks filled with ice cream when they were growing up, and he said he had a truck with ice cream.” Her bottom lip trembled. “Where’s my mommy?”
“How do I explain this?” Sorsha blew out a breath. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Gloria. Is it alright if I ask for help?”
The child nodded.
“Alright then. For this to work, I need to know your full name. Can you tell me that?”
