by Alexie Aaron
Mrs. Dupree closed the door and looked at her son. “He’s right. You have been spending an inordinate amount of time in front of the mirror, dear.”
“Mom,” Mike whined, “You don’t understand. I have ambition. I don’t want to host ghost hunts the rest of my life.”
Mrs. Dupree looked at her unemployed son who was three months behind on the rent he owed her. She had put up with his filling her house with gizmos that beeped in the middle of the night when Mike failed to turn them off. She looked the other way when the first check came in from the network and he spent it entirely on himself. But when he was going to destroy what she felt was his only way of succeeding in this world, she had to say something. “Remember Amber and her aspirations? Where did that get her? I understand from her aunt that she is doing a titty show in Vegas.”
“That’s different.”
“How? She was a camera hog and left PEEPs.”
Mike wanted to correct his mother but struggled how to tell her the girl had been possessed, and it was her father who demanded she leave. He settled for, “But Ma.”
“You get on that expensive phone of yours, and you call and apologize to Burt before you make the biggest mistake of your life.” She turned to go but stopped herself. The old woman walked over to the sideboard and picked up an envelope. “Here.”
“What’s this?”
“Your bill. Pay me what you owe me or you’re out of this house.” She smiled at his shocked expression and added, “You have thirty days or I call your cousin Eddy. He’s been looking for a place to stay.”
“You wouldn’t.” Mike scrunched up his face at the thought of stink pants Eddy living in this house, sleeping in his room. “He smells!”
“He raises pigs, of course he smells,” Mrs. Dupree pointed out, “but he’ll pay his rent on time.”
Mike threw up his hands. “Okay, okay, I’ll call Burt.”
“Good,” Mrs. Dupree said before walking into the kitchen. She sweated that one out. She didn’t want stink pants Eddy visiting let alone living with her. But Mike didn’t know that and the bluff worked. Children didn’t have to know what cards you held, as long as they thought you had a royal flush in your hands.
~
Marjorie stood in the drive as the team of people that Mr. Hicks recommended worked on the Mercedes. They normally did crime scenes. Once they took care of the car, they would move on to the house. She wondered what her neighbors thought about the bright yellow van displaying a billboard-sized sign on the top of the vehicle proclaiming that Clean Crew was the crime scene team the police depended on. Already she had fielded questions about the stench radiating from her garage.
“Some prank with dog poopy,” she told them. “Yes, everyone is alright. The kids are spending time with their aunt and uncle in Naperville. George is alive and well, helping his father remodel.” She hoped that Grandma Hofmann didn’t hear that. Marjorie caught on quickly that she wasn’t to make excuses for her husband. Grandma didn’t like that.
A hazmat-suited technician was walking towards her. He pulled off his face mask before talking. “Ma’am, I think that the carpet is saved, but the leather seats will need to be replaced. You want us to pull them out now?”
“Yes. Could you arrange for a tow truck to take the car into the dealership?”
The man nodded. “You want me to explain the reason it won’t have any seats?”
“Please.” Marjorie colored. “I’m out of my depth here as you can see, or will see when you enter the house.”
He looked at her and gave her a sympathetic nod. “You would be surprised what doesn’t surprise me. I’ve been cleaning up what others do for fifty years now.”
She smiled weakly and wondered if the man ever came upon any scene as violent as the mess Grandma Hofmann left. She steeled herself and walked towards the house. Time to salvage what she could of her home before the Clean Crew carted the rest away.
The aroma of potpourri greeted her as she opened the door. A bit heavy, but considering it was shredded all over the front room, it wasn’t too cloying. Marjorie reluctantly looked over at the platform rocker. The afghan draped the back of the chair and her e-book reader sat on the seat of the chair. As she threaded her way to the chair, gathering anything that wasn’t broken on her way, she sensed she was being watched.
She kept her eyes on the floor, and it wasn’t until she reached the chair that she felt better. It did occur to her that it was odd that she wasn’t frightened of the resting place of an active ghost, but Grandma’s rocker radiated warmth and a feeling of belonging. She bent down and picked up the wicker basket and carefully housed the surviving knick knacks in it.
She moved outward from the chair, rescuing mementos from under shards of glass and photos under twisted frames. She held up several pictures to the light coming in from the windows to examine the scratches on them, pondering whether or not they could be repaired. If not, did she have the negative or digital file on her computer? Marjorie thought about her computer. Where was her lap top? The last time she used it, it was on the secretary in the dining room.
Walking quickly over, ignoring the tableware stuck in the walls, she found the antique piece of furniture on its side. Not a good sign. With the determination of a woman wronged, she righted the heavy oak desk. Her back screamed and her shoulder muscles pulled hard as she leveraged the sturdy piece of furniture back into place. She pulled over a dining chair, pushing off the pebble glass from what was once a drop light fixture before she sat down. Marjorie turned the skeleton key and lowered the lid. Nestled inside, no worse for wear, was her laptop computer. She slid it forward and checked the battery power. Nonexistent.
She struggled to find an outlet without a fork or spoon handle stuck in it. Marjorie shifted the corner of the sideboard and found an outlet that hadn’t been assaulted. She plugged in the laptop and found to her relief it started up right away. Video logging was her way of chronicling her life instead of a diary. The web camera took in more than the words. It showed her what she was wearing at the time, whether she was lying to herself, and sometimes even the joy of being Marjorie.
The last vlog occurred the morning before Grandma left her chair. She let it run, noting the normal mundane chat with herself. The boys’ progress was mentioned and her weight lost. She sighed as the most exciting thing she spoke about was that she finally got into her pre-marriage jeans. The jeans were loose on her now. She didn’t remember when she last ate anything. She turned on the motion eye and took a quick picture to see if there was enough lighting before moving on to her explanation of the horrific goings on of the last few days.
She wiped the tears from her face as she concluded her vlog. “Oh, I must look a mess,” she said as she wiped the tears with the cuff of her blouse. She decided to watch the vlog to see if she indeed looked as horrible as she felt.
Marjorie started off okay, but the more she spoke about waiting for George, the more her face tensed. By the end of the explanation of Grandma’s great adventure, her face was pale. She pretty much knew that soon the tears would fall, and she expected to see her shoulders heave as she sobbed. What she didn’t expect was the hands on the back of her chair.
She whipped around and saw no one. She backed up the log entry to see if her eyes were playing tricks on her. The video attested that they were there. It wasn’t her imagination. They weren’t the gnarled hands of an old woman, as she knew Grandma’s hands would be. They were strong male hands attached to nothing. One of the hands actually seemed to caress her neck. She never felt that. Finally, as the log ended, the hands faded. Marjorie was of one mind, to get the hell out of the house. She shut the lid of the laptop and wrenched the plug out of the outlet. She blundered her way to the front door with the cord bouncing along behind her.
The door flew open in front of her, the bright light from outdoors momentarily blinding her. All she could see was a black form moving towards her. She reeled backwards and backed into the console table. Feeling trapped
, she held up the laptop in front of her face.
“Mrs. Hofmann,” a muted voice said with concern.
Without moving the laptop from her face she reached forward and felt the rigid material of a hazmat suit. “Are you real?” she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I was this morning,” the man said as he removed his face mask.
Marjorie lowered the laptop and looked into the concerned face of one of the Clean Crew employees.
~
Burt put his phone down in puzzlement. Ted handed him a beer and asked, “What was that all about?”
“Well that was Mike. The asshole just apologized and wants in on this investigation.”
“I have no problem with the dude crawling,” Ted said as he loaded his gear box, carefully placing each camera in the foam protective shell.
“Am I the only one that has a problem with his alpha male stance?”
“I think Beth could do without his god complex. She doesn’t like her data questioned by someone whose idea of research is Wikipedia.”
“I hear ya,” Burt said, helping Ted roll the electrical cords. “I hate talking behind anyone’s back, but the guy is driving me nuts.”
“We all do it. You should hear what we say about you and Mia when you’re not around.”
Burt blushed.
“Speaking of Minnie Muse, where is she?”
“Chicago. She got a SOS from her aunt. Evidently, Sabine…”
“Do I know her?”
Burt thought a moment. “Nah, you haven’t met her yet. She’s part of Father Santos’s group.”
“Cool Father Santos, my hero. K, so this Sabine…”
“She was bi-locating and hasn’t returned to her body in hours.”
“Bi-location, is that real?” Ted smirked. “I mean, what proof do you have of the person ever leaving their shell?”
“I’ve seen it.”
“You’re shitting me,” Ted said.
“In the hollow when we were fighting the hag.”
“Damn, I missed out on that one. Beth’s a bit pissed too. Anyway, tell me. What did you see?”
“Mia moved right out of her body like a cartoon. She kind of looked like one of those Japanese characters…”
“Anime,” Ted supplied.
“Yes. She rose up to get the hag’s attention. Mia changed colors and size. I think she wanted to be a dragon.”
“Me likey dragons.”
“But she was way too cuddly.”
“And what happened?” Ted said, consumed in Burt’s recollection.
“She distracted the entity from killing me. Saved my life.”
“Holy shit.” Ted wiped his brow. “I’d give my left nut to be able to see Mia turn into anything.”
Burt lifted his eyebrow, telegraphing that Ted better stay away from his girl.
“Can you still see her do this bi-location?”
“Nope. The hag hit me with kryptonite and took my powers away.”
“Too cruel, dude.”
“Yes, a regret. One of many.” Burt sighed.
“So, do you think Mia can find this chick?”
“I hope so, but I’m more worried that Mia will go M I A too.”
“Cruel. You could send Murphy after Mia.”
“Can’t. The guy doesn’t have the range, but I’ve been thinking about that.” Burt explained his theory about Murphy and his axe. Ted offered his own ideas, and the two promised to revisit the conversation after they completed this new investigation.
“Dude, who’d win a fight. Bi-locating Mia or Murphy and his axe?”
“Let’s hope we never have to find out,” Burt said.
Chapter Eleven
Mia stood over Sabine and took in the colors that made up her aura. There was no death waxing on her features. Tauni, who had introduced herself at the door, explained, “I had to do a catheterization. The fluid goes in, it has to go out.”
“When do you have to force feed her?” Mia asked, looking at the bottles of Ensure lined up on the table.
“Not for a day or so, as long as her vitals stand. I have put some vitamins into her IV. That should hold her for now,” the nurse said confidently.
“Thank you for being so kind to my friend,” Mia said before walking over to break up the fight that had erupted between Gerald and Bev. “Please, I can’t think with all this posturing going on. Auntie, Gerald loves you. He doesn’t want you to be in danger.” She watched as Bev rolled her eyes before turning her back on the man. “Gerald, Bev is an independent bitch of a woman who knows how to stay on this side of the hereafter.”
Bev whipped back around, but before she could lash out at her, Mia spoke again.
“I promise not to let her out of my sight.”
“That’s because she doesn’t know her way around the city,” Bev pointed out.
“True, I’m not too sure I could navigate out of the building to be honest.”
Gerald looked at the women and smiled. “My mighty Trung sisters, go forth and bring our lost lamb home.”
Mia looked at her aunt with a WTF expression.
“You’re mixing the bible and Vietnamese folk lore again, Shem,” Bev scoffed. “Don’t worry, I’ll explain it later, Mia.”
“Time to get going, the sun’s coming up. But I have to pee first,” Mia said, eyeing the catheter-happy nurse who smiled back at her.
“Go ahead dear, I’ve just been,” Bev said as she settled herself on the couch. This left Mia to have to lie on the floor.
When she came back she didn’t say a word, just lay down and left her body. She looked around her and found Marilyn Monroe staring back at her with her Aunt Bev’s eyes.
“What the fuck are you trying to do? Scare the crap out of me?” Mia questioned.
“Come on, every bi-locator has a persona they cruise in. I prefer Marilyn,” Bev said and struck a pose.
“You better have underpants on, Auntie,” Mia warned. “It’s windy out there.”
Bev blushed.
“Oh, gross!” Mia stepped out of the condo and over to the elevator. “I’m cruising the city with an exposed Marilyn.”
Bev moved towards her niece and changed her persona to Mae West.
Mia stepped aside to let the swivel-hipped West into the elevator first. “Better, but how are you going to run in those heels?”
“Do you want me to go around like you in a hoodie and sweatpants?”
“It’s comfortable and practical,” Mia pointed out.
Bev thought a moment and morphed into Amelia Earhart. “Well?”
“Brilliant. I’ll take Amelia over Marilyn, but don’t get us lost in the Pacific. I have a date later.”
Bev laughed.
“Okay, what’s the plan here?” Mia asked.
“I thought that we would start at the theater district and move on from there. Sabine goes there to watch the people rehearse. She comes back and sings all the songs to me whether I ask her to or not.”
“Do you know what persona she takes on? I assume since you’re her mentor probably something outrageous.”
“No, I think she goes as she feels most comfortable.”
“Not naked?” Mia winced with the memory of spending a weekend with the naked nymph.
“Not exactly, she wears a filmy veil of light.” Bev motioned over her body. “Like a V-neck, A-line tunic.”
“K,” Mia acknowledged.
They stepped out of the building, and Bev pointed out the way to the theaters. Mia was surprised at the amount of spirit activity considering dawn was breaking. There were a couple of OOBs out there as well. Bev’s costume was nothing in comparison to the flamboyant Don Juans and Errol Flynns they passed. Also, there were quite a few Xenas arm in arm.
“I feel like it’s Halloween,” grumbled Mia.
“Just because you’re a stick in the mud doesn’t mean the rest of us are dressed inappropriately.”
They passed a slutty Hester Prynne.
“I take it back
, that’s outrageous.” She called to the woman, “Get some self-respect.”
Mia hustled Bev along. They decided to split up and search the theaters solo, promising to meet in the street before moving on to the next one. The Broadway was empty with the exception of a few depression era roustabouts playing craps in the alley. Mia sensed that Sabine had been there recently, but beyond a warm feeling she got by seat 20H, she had no trail she could follow. She met Bev in the street.
“She’s been in the Oriental but isn’t there now,” Bev told Mia.
“Same with the Broadway. I wonder if this is a waste of time.”
“Could be, but I thought maybe we could pick up her trail.”
“Sort of like OOB hound dogs?” Mia asked with a wry smile.
The sun moved higher in the sky causing the shadowed street to lighten. A bright beam of light reflected off of someone moving their way. Mia pushed Bev behind her and took up a defensive stance. As the figure moved closer, Mia saw that the light was coming from the hilt of a scabbarded sword. The carrier was a man about Mia’s age. His hair was fair and his eyes piercing blue. He carried himself with the ease of a nobleman. She waited for him to walk by her and Bev but instead was surprised by him stopping in front of them.
“Can I help you?” Mia asked.
“The question is. Can I help you, fair maiden? Why are you here?” he asked. His eyes locked with hers.
“My aunt and I are looking for a friend who is lost. She didn’t return to her body. We are so worried.”
“Would this maiden be fair of hair and lithe of frame?”
“Um, yeah. Sabine’s her name. Her hair is white like mine, and I understand she is veiled in…”
“Gossamer,” the knight filled in. “My name is Brian, and I am worried about this Sabine too.” He bowed a courtly bow.
Bev elbowed Mia aside. “Gerald could learn a few things.”
Mia frowned at the woman and introduced them. “I am Mia and this is Bev.”
“Lady Mia, Lady Bev.” He raised himself.
