by Anna Elias
Every mouth dropped open. Doc plopped in her chair.
Tal slid off the table to her feet. “What the hell are you talking about?”
A clang sounded from the hall as Liam bumped the half-closed door with his ladder and can of paint. “Sorry,” he said. “So sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
The others ignored him, but Sam caught his eye and the air prickled with energy. They are lost and broken, as you were, Chief Black’s voice echoed. They understand the power of love and compassion, as you do.
The man’s gold-green eyes flashed. Sam’s confidence surged.
He turned back to the waiting faces. “I don’t expect you to understand. I barely do myself, but ... I know it’s true. And I know you three have been chosen.”
Tal fell back against the table. Avani and Link stared, slack-jawed.
“These spirits require extraordinary individuals like you, humans who have suffered tragedy, braved death, and risen above it all through ...” Sam looked at Tal. “Love.” He turned to Link. “Compassion.” His eyes met Avani’s. “And mercy.”
No one moved. They hardly breathed.
“Each of you will carry a spirit for seven days,” Sam continued. “Once you fulfill its journey and return it to the ship, you have the following seven days for yourself. You can do whatever is needed for your personal lives until time to host again.”
“So that’s what this room is for?” Doc stammered. “To help them—get in?”
“No. The spirits enter elsewhere. You and this room are here in case anything goes wrong.”
“Goes wrong?” Eva snapped. “What in bloody hell can go wrong with a bunch of ghosts?”
“Spirits,” Sam corrected. “I know this is like jumping off a cliff and trusting you can fly, but it’s true. I’ve seen it for myself.” He glanced at Liam, who was painting and humming in the hall. He was more grateful than ever for Liam’s otherworldly strength and support.
“So, you’re saying we could die?” Tal’s eyes narrowed.
“Haven’t we all died to something already?” Sam asked.
Avani stroked Kismet so hard he mewed. “Where will they take us?”
“I don’t know,” Sam answered. “Anywhere? Everywhere? The spirits come from every country, culture, and time period. Their goal is to save humans from hurt, anger, bias, fear, greed—the worst parts of our nature that can create the most harm for others.”
Tal’s eyes narrowed. “So we help these specters save the world one messed up soul at a time.”
“Spirits. And yes. In a manner of speaking.” He paused. “Privacy is a prime directive. No one knows who you are or what you’re doing except those family and friends the spirits seek. No matter what happens or where you end up, you cannot tell anyone else about the spirits, the Vessels Program, or the work.”
His words were met with silence. Sam looked toward the hallway for help, but Liam continued painting the doorway.
Then one angry voice broke the quiet. “Bullshit.”
TAL
Tal’s fundamental church beliefs boiled over, as did her detective’s skepticism and doubt.
Sam was right—they had all died to their past in some way, but this was worse. The fiery teaching of Tal’s pastor about “false prophets” and “devils among us” pounded in her head. As did images of butchered and blood-drained bodies she and Jake had uncovered more than once after busting crazed religious sects around the city. Heat surged in her cheeks. “You seem nice enough, Sam. And I’m grateful for all you, Doc and Avani did for me, but this whole thing smacks of a cult. They make their members keep quiet, too.”
“Program, Tal, not a cult,” Sam clarified. “And four others just like it already exist in the world. They have for decades, centuries even. Silence is why you haven’t heard of them. Most of the world’s greatest good came about because of them.”
“And what about the bad?” Tal hissed, crossing her arms. “Wars, terrorism, mass killings, nukes? Why don’t the spirits just come back and wipe those out while they’re at it?”
The others waited for Sam to answer.
Another clang from the hallway seemed to make Sam stand taller. Tal looked, but she couldn’t see why.
“Free will,” he said. “Not every heart wants to change. And the spirits can’t force it.”
“This is insane,” Tal snapped. “Not to mention impossible. Humans have had free will forever, and it’s why they continue to fail. Except for a few. Like Darden. And Jake.”
Sam scanned the faces of Tal, Link, and Avani. “I was chosen for this, like you, and I’m prepared and willing to serve. Our Creator has led me to believe you are, too. But if I’m wrong ...” His gaze shifted to Tal. “If you want to leave—”
“Damn straight I do,” Tal cut him off. “This is bullshit.” She uncrossed her arms, hands shaking. “You can take this crazy program or cult or sect or whatever the hell you call it and shove it where the spirits don’t shine. I’m out.”
She stormed toward the door, sucking the room’s air with her.
Just as she reached the threshold, the doorway morphed into some kind of storm-tossed sea.
“What the fu—?”
Waves from the doorway lunged at Tal, watery arms reaching out to pull her in and plunge her to darkened depths.
A booming voice filled the room. “For those who stay, your lives will forever change.”
The air crackled, alive with invisible bolts of energy.
“But for those who leave ...”
Tal’s lungs burned for air and her mind went blank, as if all of her thoughts and memories had washed away.“... you will never be the same.”
Tal’s insides turned to ice and she struggled to crawl back from the doorway. Rage surged and she jumped to her feet. That ocean couldn’t be real. It couldn’t. This was just a room in a building on a street in a city. None of it made sense. Tal stormed toward the portal again. As she prepared to dive through, the threshold returned to normal and she nearly plowed into Liam on the other side. She jolted to an angry stop, glaring at him before turning to leave.
A young African-American boy appeared from around the corner and skidded to a stop.
“I love you, Mommy.”
The child grinned and bolted off.
Tal dropped to her knees on the hard linoleum. “Darden?” She wanted to go after him, but he was gone. She looked up at Liam. “Who are you? What is this place?”
He descended the ladder and lifted Tal to her feet. His touch sparked like the man who had found her that night, the one who had wrapped her wrists and saved her life. He was kind but surreal, and definitely not human.
“Liam is the Spirit Guard assigned to our Program,” Sam explained.
Liam’s golden-green irises flashed as he looked between Tal, Link, and Avani. “You have twenty-four hours,” he told them. “Make peace with this choice. Your answers are final.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
TAL
Tal jumped on the first flight to Pittsburgh to get away from Liam, the crazy Angel Man, Sam, and their ludicrous proposal. She returned to her house but couldn’t sleep and spent the early morning hours walking the streets of her beloved city. Those wanderings ended around noon at the park bench across the street from her old precinct. She sipped convenience store coffee and watched police officers come and go in the late morning. Mostly, she pondered options that ran from hosting some spook who took her God-knows-where to marching inside this building and confronting Chief Demmings about her job.
The sun streamed through nearby trees, warming Tal’s face despite the chilly air and the goosebumps pimpling her skin. Demmings hadn’t called her after Jake died, or at least he hadn’t before she chucked her cell phone in the river. Disciplinary leave would end soon, and there was no doubt Internal Affairs had started a case.
Tal sighed and sat back against the bench. She picked at a small jagged edge on the cup’s lid. None of this would’ve mattered had she died in Reno as planned.
Being alive would cost her. After more than nine years on the force, risking life and limb to protect and serve even the most unworthy scum, IA could bury her with humiliation, professional ruin, and possible jail time. And for what? Moving in fast and being impetuous were norms for Tal. That night would’ve been no different had the gunmen not been there and somehow known about the surprise bust.
Acid lurched from her stomach and burned her throat. Tal washed it down with a sip of coffee, which made the taste even worse. She swallowed hard and eyed the tall, delicate redbud trees that lined the park. She’d watched them grow during her time on the force, and their purple blossoms carried memories of happier days. Showering Darden with their soft petals always sent him into fits of giggles.
A young mother strolled by pushing a baby carriage. Another joined her, pushing twins. Tal’s happiness crashed once more into fire, smoke, and screams, and she slumped lower on the bench.
Sam and Doc had saved her life, and this Program could provide a new purpose in living it—a new way to protect and serve. But she had no desire to become a zombie-like host for wayward souls. It didn’t make sense. You were born; you lived a good life; you treated people well—most people, anyway—you got saved, and you went to heaven. Pretty simple.
Two trim coeds jogged by, dressed in running gear that showed every muscle and curve. Some businessmen whistled on their way to lunch. Tal rolled her eyes and took another sip. How was it your soul could come back and fix something you screwed up while human? People messed up all the time. There could not possibly be enough Vessels to handle the number of spirits traipsing around the world at any given moment.
She clenched the cup.
And what if a spirit came back that didn’t deserve it—like the gunman who had shot Jake, or the woman who had killed Darden and Owen?
Tal didn’t realize she was squeezing the cup until the lid popped off. She fixed it, her thoughts swirling about the woman, her spirit, and what she might say through some Vessel that could make Tal listen, much less forgive. Or be merciful. Or turn the other cheek. Or whatever the hell else she had learned from Sunday school. It was impossible. Besides, the soul of that woman, or the gunman who killed Jake, should never have a shot at the same redemption given to those spirits who had led good lives to begin with. Right?
A horn honked, and Tal jerked up to see Detective Tucker Manning exit the building with his partner, Dave. Both men waved at the passing police cruiser and strolled down the precinct steps, probably on their way to lunch. Tal’s muscles hardened into glue. Tucker hated her because of Jake. The two men had been best friends since the Police Academy. They had worked as partners, played racquetball, and cooked out every weekend, and gone to every Steelers football game possible.
Until Tal.
Then Jake spent his free time with her, encouraging, supporting, and consoling her grief. It hadn’t been long before Jake had fallen in love with her, even though Tal couldn’t return the feeling. Not at first. Tucker had resented her for it. For all of it.
Tal tossed her coffee in the trash and started across the street when a large truck rumbled by. The moment it passed, a young child darted into view near the precinct steps. He looked just like the boy from the shelter.
Tal froze. “No. It can’t be.”
The child ran off and disappeared into the crowd. She forced a breath, shook it off, and followed Tucker around the next corner.
He had blamed her for Jake’s death and she was certain he was helping Internal Affairs with any investigation that might remove her for good. She needed to talk with him, explain what had happened that night, and pray it would be enough to make him back off. She’d get a new badge and start life over in some other precinct or state. Sam could find another Vessel to haul his ghosts around.
Downtown traffic sped past, and the sidewalks swelled with men and women in business attire. It was the start of lunchtime rush. Tal tailed the men to a walk-up hot dog stand in the middle of the block and ducked behind the short brick wall of a nightclub. The smell of warm buns and grilled meat made her mouth water for her favorite Chicago-style hot dog topped with tomatoes, pickles and peppers. Her stomach rumbled from the twelve-plus hours she’d gone without food, and from the black coffee gnawing at her gut. She lowered her ball cap and clenched her jaw. Eating would have to wait.
It was odd to see Tucker relaxed, unguarded and cracking jokes with Dave. Normally, if she were anywhere close, he’d swell like a cobra and spit anger all around. Wait until he saw her now. He’d probably choke on his hot dog and die, then she’d get his spirit and they’d both be screwed.
What kinds of spirits come back, anyway?
Tal couldn’t imagine hosting some crazed murderer who had shot kids at school, or a serial rapist, or a mom who had drowned her infant. No way she could tolerate them being in her body, much less helping them get the same absolution as spirits who lived right to begin with. That kind of equality wouldn’t be fair. Some souls deserved to rot in hell.
Didn’t they?
Tucker and Dave finished eating and tossed their trash. Dread surged in Tal and seeped out as nervous sweat. She wiped her lip and tried to take a step, but her legs refused to move. She overheard Tucker say something about Mother’s Day gifts and the men continued up the block. At this rate, she’d never get Tucker alone, and she didn’t have the courage to ask Dave to leave. Tucker wouldn’t let him, anyway. He did his best hating in packs.
Her nerves knotted as she remembered Tucker’s face that night, yelling in front of Chief Demmings about Jake’s death being her fault. Dave and other officers had glared or turned away, and Chief Demmings hadn’t hidden his disappointment when he’d asked for her gun and badge.
Her knees weakened and she slid to the ground. Tucker had to walk back this way, eventually. She would screw her courage into place by then and force him to hear her out. Dave was nicer. Maybe he’d even help his partner listen.
The men walked half a block to the closest jewelry store. Garish Mother’s Day signs adorned the windows, and a faint bell dinged the men’s entry. Tucker must be buying his wife’s obligatory gift for having given him three children. He and Katherine had married young, almost twenty years ago, but had stopped living together after his second affair. As Catholics, they didn’t believe in divorce, so they’d lived the lie of wedlock.
Tal had dismissed them as hypocrites, but Jake felt bad for them, especially their kids. He described their marriage as a boat dragging its anchor through stormy seas, never fully together and never completely apart, just pulling against each other on every tide. The children were stuck on board, forced to ride along until they were old enough to jump off and swim to new waters.
Jake would have made a great Vessel: kind, compassionate, and far less judgmental. If only she’d been the one to die that night.
Tal had never understood how Tucker and Jake became friends. Jake was soft-spoken, easy-going, and positive in a job that pitted him against the worst of humanity. Tucker, on the other hand, had become callous and cynical. He didn’t trust anyone, he didn’t show any mercy, and he assumed guilt until innocence could be proven. This was especially true for Tal.
Peals of laughter erupted from a nearby ice cream store, and Tal watched a group of toddlers and moms emerge from inside. Tal recognized the boy from the shelter. He beamed at her with joyful brown eyes, ice cream smearing his chin.
“Darden?”
He giggled and ran, but no one seemed to notice.
Tal jumped to her feet. “Darden. Wait.”
He darted in and out of people on the sidewalk, then crossed the street and disappeared around the brick wall of a corner store.
Tal bolted across the street, inches away from an oncoming car. The driver honked and squealed around her. She sprinted on toward the store.
The brick wall turned out to be the far side of a corner pawnshop. The boy disappeared into an alcove that ran the length of the wall. Tal hurried in, hoping to trap him.
&nbs
p; A drunken bum snored in one corner, turned over and fell back to sleep. The boy was gone.
Tal’s pulse thumped in her ears. “Darden?” Tal looked behind a dumpster and scanned the busy sidewalks and street. “Darden, where’d you go?”
She started to leave when Tucker crossed the street half a block down, by himself, carrying an oversized pink jewelry store bag indented with the outline of a tiny box. Tal started to wonder why he needed so much room for such a little gift when Tucker looked her way. She ducked behind the alcove entry and, seconds later, heard the pawnshop door open.
Tal’s hackles shot up. Tucker hated pawnshops.
She snuck down the long wall to the store’s one side window and peered in through burglar bars. He stood at the register, talking with a young clerk. Their words grew heated, and the clerk disappeared to the back.
A large African-American man returned in his place. Tal’s knees buckled. She recognized the third drug dealer from the bust, the one who had gotten away. Her mind spun in a million directions, trying to figure out why Tucker would seek him out, how he knew the dealer was here, and what business they could possibly have.
The man handed over a brown sack. Tucker checked a wad of cash inside, shoved it into his oversized pink bag, and sealed the top. Mother’s Day had provided the perfect cover.
Tal hid as Tucker exited, pressing against the brick until he crossed the street and whistled his way back to work. The bright, happy sound scorched her ears. She and Jake had been closing in on this growing drug ring. Tucker must have arranged for the gunmen to be there, to stop the cops and save this dealer. It was why he’d rushed to blame Tal. She doubled over, head spinning.
Police salaries were universally low, and some cops went on the take for extra cash. But very few arranged to have their fellow officers killed, particularly those who were also their best friends. Tucker must be in deep. He had feared someone was on to him, or about to be, and arranged to take them out.
