Sixth Grave on the Edge

by Darynda Jones

  Wonderful. Now I was standing in a car full of people with a dead girl stuck to my face. This was so wrong.

  As Angel was about to tell me. “That looks so wrong, pendeja. It’s creeping me out.”

  I spoke through clenched teeth. She clung like a magnet. I couldn’t shake her off without looking like a complete spaz. Not that something like that ever stopped me, but still.

  “Join the club. How do I get her off?”

  He laughed, enjoying my agony. Her right eye was practically touching my left one. Our eyelashes met when I blinked. When I moved, she moved. When I stepped back, she floated forward. It had been a long time since I’d been this creeped out.

  “You look like Siamese twins.”

  “Conjoined twins,” I corrected him, “and for the love of pancake syrup, get her off me.”

  “I ain’t touching that. She’s like that girl from the movie.”

  “The Ring?” I asked, surprised that he’d seen it. He died long before it was made.

  “No, the movie where that girl who gets possessed turns her head all the way around.”

  “Oh, The Exorcist.”

  “That movie was messed up.”

  “Yeah, I can see the resemblance. Now, get her off me!”

  He doubled over as the car came to a stop. The passengers couldn’t seem to get off the car fast enough. No idea why. The attendant stood there, waiting for me to disembark.

  “Ma’am, do you need help?”

  “Can you just give me a minute?” I asked.

  “I have to load the next group of passengers.”

  “Okay, you go get them, and I’ll just stand here and reflect on the beauty in front of me.”

  Angel fell to the floor, laughing so hard, he had to draw his knees to his chest. Little shit.

  “I’m going to beat you to death with a frying pan.”

  “Oh, please, pendeja, you don’t own a frying pan.” He wiped his eyes and tried to sober. “That girl’s messed up in the head. Just heal her. You can make her cross.”

  “I tried that. Now I have a girl stuck to my face. I can only barely see through her. How am I going to go through life with a girl stuck to my face?”

  And again with the fit of laughs. The next group of passengers were boarding. I had to get off this car now. I gave it one more shot. I reached out to her, into her, let my energy meld with hers until I found her huddled in a dark corner of her mind. I wrapped my energy around her, cradled her, and coaxed her closer. That was when I felt it. The trauma of what had happened to her.

  “If you’re staying, miss, you need to disembark now,” the attendant said.

  “I’m staying,” I said breathlessly, the agony inside her seizing my lungs until she finally relaxed and slipped through.

  She’d crossed, but when that happens, I see things. I catch glimpses of the departed’s life. What their favorite pet was or what their first snow cone tasted like. But I didn’t get that with this girl.

  “Ma’am, I need to close this door. We’re on a schedule.”

  I was still in the middle of her crossing. Images flashed bright hot in my mind, hateful and terrifying. The unimaginable things she suffered through had left her forever scarred, the abrasive texture of her memories undeniable proof. She’d been abused by her mother and ignored by her father, never seen, never cared for, and completely abandoned on the day he committed suicide, leaving her in the sole care of a monster. Even her brother ignored her, most likely because he was scared to incur their mother’s wrath as well. So, instead of standing up for his sister, he joined in, laughing when her mother called her stupid, turning a blind eye when her mother tripped her and she fell with a pot of boiling water. She’d burned her hands and face in the water. Those burns were still visible when she died.

  These were the things I didn’t want to see. The things I couldn’t wash away, no matter how much scrubbing I did. Miranda—her name was Miranda—was the product of a failed system. While I didn’t see her death specifically, it was crystal clear she’d died at her mother’s hands in a way that was so horrific, so nonsensical, my mind rebelled, my stomach contracted, and the world pitched to the side. I stumbled when I tried to get off the car. Angel caught me and lifted me to him. No, not Angel. A man. At the moment, I didn’t care whom. I accepted the help, grabbed on to the tan jacket sleeves, and hefted myself up. I just needed to get through the worst of it. Despite everything she’d been through, the most prevalent emotion that she’d carried even into her death was a deep and abiding love for her brother. The same brother who looked the other way when her mother came at her.

  I swallowed back bile as the images began to fade. Not that they would ever fade completely, but I needed to find Amber and Quentin. I would have fallen out of the car if not for the man holding me. The attendant hurried over, and I waved him away before pushing out of the man’s grasp and lunging toward the corner of the landing. I grabbed hold of the railing and proceeded to empty the paltry contents of my stomach onto the wood platform. Sinking to my knees, I almost hyperventilated as my stomach convulsed way more times than was necessary, dry heaving until it became embarrassing.

  After a solid minute of that crap, I wiped my mouth on my jacket sleeve and took out my phone to dial Amber.

  She picked up immediately. “Are you here yet?”

  “I’m here,” I said, filling my hot lungs with the cool air of Sandia Peak. It was always several degrees cooler at the top of the mountain, and it felt good. Helped calm my stomach and clear my head until I could at least see to ascend the dozens of ramps that led to High Finance, the restaurant at the top of the peak.

  “We’re sitting outside the restaurant, against the back wall. Please, hurry, Aunt Charley. Something’s wrong and I can’t understand him. He’s signing too fast for me to understand.”

  “I’m almost there, sweetheart,” I said, bolting to my feet.

  The man held out a hand and I looked up to thank him, only to come face-to-face with Captain Eckert. He’d followed me. Had he been in the same car? I never saw him. He was wearing a tan jacket and knit cap, clearly a master of disguise. Then again, I did have a girl stuck to my face on the ride up.

  I could tell by the disappointment lining his features he hadn’t wanted me to see him. I longed so very much to confront him right then and there, but at that moment, I needed him.

  “Come with me,” I said, grabbing on to his jacket again for stability. I dragged him until we were both running up the ramps, rushing past the sightseers enjoying the gorgeous scenery the Land of Enchantment had to offer. Eckert helped me every step of the way, catching me when I stumbled, picking me up once when I fell hard onto my right knee. My vision was still impaired by Miranda’s memories. I couldn’t quite navigate the uneven grounds right. The world tipped perilously onto its side over and over. I kept expecting the captain to ask me if I’d been drinking, but to his credit, he kept his mouth shut.

  Angel was still there, too. He followed behind us.

  Uncaring of anything the captain thought about me anymore, I spoke to him. “Go find them, hon, and tell me exactly where they are.”

  “Already did.” He dashed past us and led the way. “Over here,” he said when we topped the stairs to the restaurant. He pointed and I rushed over to Quentin and Amber.

  “Aunt Charley!” She ran into my arms. “I’m so sorry. Something’s wrong. He won’t talk to me anymore.”

  Quentin sat against the back wall of the restaurant with his head between his knees, his arms covering himself protectively. Miranda had been creepy. I’d give him that. But this was more.

  I touched his arm, but he didn’t respond.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Amber asked. “We were just going to ride up here and look around, then be back before school let out.”

  “When did he start getting upset?” I asked her.

  “On the ride up. He got real nervous and then just kind of shrank into himself. He couldn’t look out the windows and kep
t waving me away from him. A lady asked me if he was afraid of heights, but he said he wasn’t.”

  “No, hon, he wasn’t,” I said. I barely took note of the captain hovering nearby. Whatever he was up to, whatever he was planning, he could bite my ass. I rubbed Quentin’s shoulders, trying to coax him back to me while I fought the aftereffects of Miranda’s memories. I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head to clear it. Her agony was so great, so all-consuming. She’d loved her mother so much and never understood why the woman who gave birth to her didn’t love her back. But the fault surely rested on her shoulders. She’d been so certain. She’d caused her own misery. She deserved it.

  It didn’t matter now. She was in greater hands than mine. Hands that truly knew how to heal. He’d help her understand that none of that was her fault.

  And if he was as just as I hoped, her mother would spend eternity burning for her transgressions.

  I fought so many things at once. Pain, agony, helplessness, and anger. The anger was all mine. I clenched my jaw so tight, my teeth hurt.

  After swallowing hard, I tried again with Quentin. “Angel,” I said, waving him closer.

  “I’m sorry about that girl, Charley. I didn’t know.”

  “I didn’t either, hon. But what can I do for Quentin?”

  “I don’t know. He’s still alive. That’s not really my area.” When I turned back in disappointment, he said, “But he’s like the girl. He’s not thinking right. Maybe you could do what you did with her.”

  I started to argue with him but stopped and rethought his suggestion. It was certainly worth a shot. I petted Quentin’s blond hair and let my energy gather in my core. Let it build and swell like a rising storm. But before I could send it out, Quentin looked up, his cerulean blue eyes glistening with fear and uncertainty. I let the energy inside me disperse and touched his handsome face. As though it took him a moment to recognize me, he furrowed his brows, then blinked and rushed into my arms.

  We sat like that a long time, on the back deck of the restaurant, swaying to the music streaming from inside. Well, I swayed to the music. After a long while, I glanced at my gang. Amber was standing close by, wringing the knit cap in her hands. Angel was sitting against the wall next to us. He seemed very curious about Quentin, and I couldn’t believe I’d never introduced them.

  Captain Eckert was leaning against the bright red railing that encircled the restaurant in thick wooden planks. It was a beautiful place and a stunning view.

  “What’s wrong with him?” the captain asked.

  I pasted on my best glare. “I’ll deal with you later.”

  Though the captain wasn’t used to being treated so harshly, especially by one of APD’s lowly consultants, he didn’t argue. He didn’t threaten. He just stood there, observing, probably taking notes and weighing the possibility of getting me fired for mental instability.

  After a while, Quentin finally pulled back and told me he couldn’t get on the cable car. He couldn’t go home.

  “Is it the girl?” I asked him.

  A look of surprise flashed across his face, but it didn’t last. He knew who I was, what I was, and that we had a lot in common. He nodded.

  “I saw her, too,” I signed. “She was scared and lost.”

  He gaped at me. “She was scared and lost?”

  “Yes, she crossed through me. She didn’t want to at first, but I … convinced her. She was very hurt by her family.”

  “They abused her?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Bad.”

  “Like hit her?”

  “And worse. She was so scared.”

  He looked down. “I could feel that, too. I could feel how dark her world was. How empty. It made my stomach hurt.”

  “Mine, too, but how did you feel that?” I was beginning to realize Quentin could do more than just see the departed.

  “I didn’t tell you.”

  “So, tell me now,” I said. I reached over and ruffled his hair.

  That got his attention. He smoothed it into place, peeking at Amber, then did the same to mine, ruffling my chocolaty locks while wearing a mischievous glint in his eyes. My hair was a mess anyway, so I just left it.

  “If the spirit touches me, I can see how it feels,” he said.

  “Wow. That’s crazy.”

  “It’s messed up. I don’t like it.” He shrank back when he thought about it.

  “I’m sorry. Sometimes the departed carry a lot of baggage.”

  “Like suitcases?” he asked, confused.

  I chuckled. “Sorry, hearing idiom. Like they have a lot of problems weighing them down.”

  “Oh, yeah. Just like people, I guess.”

  “Yeah, but that’s super cool that you can do that.” When he stabbed me with a dubious stare, I said, “Try it on Angel.”

  “Screw that, pendeja.” Angel jumped up, but I took his arm before he could vanish on me and jerked him back down. “This is Angel.”

  Angel graced him with the ever-popular head nod, then stuck out his hand to shake. Quentin shook his hand, then asked him, “Do you know ASL?”

  Angel shrugged, so I interpreted.

  “No, man, I’m sorry. I wish I did.”

  I relayed that message but added, “He will learn.”

  Angel’s brows shot up, and he nodded in agreement. “That’d be cool.”

  “Okay, now that that’s settled, did you feel anything when you touched him?”

  Quentin shrugged. “He’s pretty happy. It’s nice.”

  “It’s because he has me,” I said, then winked at them both.

  “I want to learn that stuff,” Angel said, now very into the idea. “You have to teach me.”

  “I ain’t teaching you anything,” I said, speaking and signing at the same time. “Go hang with him at the school in Santa Fe. You’ll learn all kinds of signs.”

  “That’s true,” Quentin said; then he looked up at Amber. The minute he did, she fell to her knees in front of us. “I’m so sorry,” he said to her.

  “Please, don’t be,” she signed. I was so proud of her. She’d learned a lot in the last two weeks since meeting him. Kids. Freaking little sponges. “I understand. You see things I can’t. I want—” She struggled with the next words, then added, “—I want me and you to be the same. I want to see what you see.”

  He frowned. “No, you don’t. It’s not fun.”

  “I know it’s not easy. I’ve known Charley for a long time. She always tries to help dead people and gets in trouble. I wish,” she voiced but didn’t know the sign, so she started that sentence again. “I want I could help her.”

  I made sure to put it into my next sentence so she’d pick it up. “I wish we were off this mountain. Your mother is going to kill me about fifteen minutes after the nuns trample me to death trying to get to you. They are all worried sick.”

  Their guilt hit me in one rock-solid wave. Good. Served ’em right. Then a thought occurred.

  “Wait a minute,” I said as we stood and gathered ourselves. “How many times have you two done this?”

  “This is the first time,” Quentin said, his expression full of earnestness.

  “I meant, how many times have you two skipped school?”

  Their gazes instantly locked; then Amber’s dropped to the ground in guilt.

  “Quentin!” I shouted. Or, well, signed really fast. “Amber is twelve years old.”

  “I’ll be thirteen next week!” she said.

  “I’m thirteen,” Angel said.

  I ignored him. “You are sixteen, Quentin. That is so wrong.”

  He gaped at me. “You think—?” He stopped and shook his head at me. “No way. She’s just a kid. We’re friends.”

  Well, I’d put my foot in it. Amber winced at the pain that overtook her. His words had hurt. Clearly she thought they were more.

  I turned to her and voiced my next words, holding my hand up to block Quentin’s view so he couldn’t read my lips. He tried to see past it, but I spoke fast. “H
e’s lying,” I said to her. “Whatever you do, for the love of all things holy, please don’t let your mother know you two have kissed.”

  Quentin may have been able to hide that one, but there was no way Amber could have managed it. Guilt once again radiated out of her.

  I gasped and turned to Quentin, appalled. “You kissed her?”

  “What? No.”

  Amber caught on. She stamped her foot. “Aunt Charley, you tricked me.”

  I was still busy being appalled at Quentin.

  He stuffed his hands into his pockets before he said another word.

  “Wise decision,” I said before stalking away. Or trying to. The world toppled again and I tripped, flying headfirst into Captain Eckert. Oh, well. Better that than pitching myself off the side of a mountain. And he’d be fine once his cracked ribs healed.

  12

  I have a perfect body.

  It’s in my trunk.

  —T-SHIRT

  I was still wobbly on the way down. Captain Eckert stayed close until he gave up and just wrapped one of his arms around me, holding me tight to his side as we descended. Not that the ramps were that steep. I was just that wobbly. Though the captain and I had a lot to talk about, now was not the time.

  He held me all the way to the bottom of the tramway and walked me and the kids to Misery. I left him there with a warning scowl when he asked if I was okay to drive.

  I dropped Quentin off at the convent to—just as I’d suspected—a horde of frantic nuns. They rushed out in one solid mass. They reminded me of penguins attacking. Our only hope was to drop into a fetal position and whimper. That stopped them in their tracks. Worked every time. Quentin didn’t follow my lead, but that was okay. I was very willing to sacrifice my dignity for the both of us.

  After barely escaping with life and limb, I took a very nervous Amber home and dropped her at her door. It was on the way. Cookie was busy pretending to get ready for her date. Pretending to be oblivious of the fact that Amber was two hours late. She wasn’t the least bit angry. Fear and worry had swallowed any anger she might have had. The anger would hit later. Hopefully I’d be very far away when it did.