Dead Girl Dancing

by Linda Joy Singleton

  She went on to talk about … you guessed it! Warren. Whenever she said his name, my stomach knotted and I wished I could warn her. But if I told her about Warren attacking me, she’d either accuse me of lying or leading him on. Sharayah had a track record when it came to stealing other girls’ boyfriends.

  Besides, I needed to stay on Sadie’s good side to succeed at my mission. A big part of my plan to make Sharayah a singing star involved getting a ride to the audition in Beverly Hills. If Eli showed up, he could take me. But I couldn’t count on that. If I didn’t hear from him by tomorrow, I’d need to resort to Plan B—which meant not pissing off Sadie so she’d drive me to the audition.

  Under the flicker of a short-circuiting street light and the gloom of a misty night, the crappo condo was even less inviting. There were no lights except a dim glow through the living room window, which added to the whole haunted house effect of the sagging porch, the peeling paint and the glass-eyed attic window peeking down at us like a spying ghost.

  Fortunately, I had a good relationship with the other side; dead people didn’t scare me.

  Our arms full of luggage and shopping bags, we went inside, kicking a box out of the way and walking over a pile of dirty clothes. Sadie found a note on the fridge instructing us to sleep in the room at the far end of the hallway. Not a luxury room with a view of the ocean, but it seemed decent. A queen-sized bed with a flowered comforter and four matching pillows took up most of the space, while an uncomfortable-looking rollaway was folded against a wall. There were two dressers, a desk, a glassed-door curio case filled with ceramic cats, and several framed paintings of cats adorning the walls. As a cat lover, I was completely at ease with the kitty decor. All I cared about was going to sleep … the bed looked so inviting.

  Dropping my suitcase, I started for the bed.

  Sadie grabbed my arm. “Not yet—there could be icky germs all over that. Wait until I clean up in here. I’ve got sheets, pillow cases and cleaning fluids.”

  “You bought all of that today?” I asked, seriously impressed.

  “That and more.”

  “Impressive. You think of everything.”

  “I try,” she said proudly. “Remember that, next time you call me a shopaholic.”

  “Me? Criticize your shopping obsession?” I teased. “Never happens.”

  “Yeah, right. And it’s not an obsession, it’s a talent. Check out what I bought.”

  Sadie was showing me cleaning liquids and bedding when suddenly a sleek, multicolored creature shot out from underneath the bed and pounced on her lap.

  Swearing, Sadie shot at least a foot off the ground.

  The cat tumbled down, landing expertly on its four feet.

  “A cat!” Sadie reached down to pick up a bottle of cleaner that had rolled out of her bag. “Who let it into our room?”

  “It’s the other way around. I think this is her room and we’re the invaders.” I laughed as the calico turned its back on us and curled cozily between the two bed pillows. “I don’t think she has any intention of leaving.”

  “Just great. We’ll have cat fur all over our clothes and I’ll need to take—” she sneezed “—an allergy pill.”

  “You’re allergic to cats?”

  “Duh, you know I am. Cats, dogs, ferrets, people with bad hygiene.” She rubbed her eyes. “And you can bet my cousin knows, too. She did this on purpose! Everything about this place has been a disaster! If all the hotels around here weren’t booked, I’d so check into one right now.”

  “Hotels are really expensive,” I pointed out.

  “So I’d just charge it. Or you can pay. Do you have any extra hundred-dollar bills lying around?”

  She asked this in a joking tone, but her words startled me. I almost answered, “Yes, I happen to have a big wad of hundreds in my purse.” But I swallowed the idea of honesty and fought to hide my panic. Did she know about the hidden money? And why was Sharayah carrying around so much cash anyway—especially after discovering Sadie’s five-fingered habit? It seemed so reckless, as if she was daring Sadie to steal from her again.

  While I was burdened with guilt and secrets, Sadie didn’t even notice. “There’s no way I can sleep in a room covered in cat hair,” she said, scowling at the sleeping cat.

  “So, where … ” I yawned “ … will you sleep?”

  “If things don’t work out with Warren, I’ll crash in the car.”

  I tried to listen as I flopped onto the bed, but my brain had already checked out. Sleep, blissful sleep, that’s all I craved … I was only slightly aware of Sadie fixing her hair and changing into a clingy, night-black dress. I was glad when she left—relieved to be blissfully alone.

  Well, except for the cat. She (I’d already guessed it was a “she,” since male calicos are rare) peeked out from her plush cave between pillows, a splash of white fur under her orange nose. Her large green eyes studied me, and her orange tail swished across my face, tickling. When I didn’t push her away, and instead scratched gently under her soft neck, she purred. She curled on my chest; her soft, warm fur-body pressed up against me was actually very nice. Closing my eyes, I imagined being at home with my own cat, resting in my bedroom with my parents just a shout away and my little sisters toddling around the house.

  These memories were a sweet lullaby, carrying me deep into sleep. I only stirred once, to move my hand when it was being kitty-kissed by a rough tongue.

  I don’t know how long I was deep asleep before I heard hissing, spitting, and growling.

  Something heavy pounced at the edge of the bed.

  Bolting upright, I gaped around the darkened room. It was dimly lit by a slice of moonlight shining through the curtain slits. Beside me, the orange cat continued to hiss at the murky shape, her back arched, her ears flattened back, and her fur raised in attack mode.

  Following her gaze, I saw a beast twice the size of the cat.

  Fierce sharp teeth, gleaming.

  At me

  I started to scream—then snapped my mouth shut.

  My eyes adjusted to the dark, and I realized that it wasn’t the beast’s teeth that were gleaming but the shimmering collar around its neck. Not an ordinary collar, either, but a Duty Director: a glowing, otherworldly sphere spinning with holographic images. The beast was just a dog, with black curly fur, floppy ears and a happy-to-see you wagging tail. When I was a little girl he’d been my constant companion—until he died at a ripe old age.

  “Cola!” I cried, startling the cat. Hissing, she scampered off the bed and disappeared. “I’m so glad to see you!”

  What sounded like an ordinary bark translated inside my head to, I came because I heard you were having problems.

  “Am I ever! I lost the GEM and can’t find out anything about my mission. It’s driving me crazy, trying to live someone else’s life without knowing much about them. I did figure stuff out, though, and I have a plan to help her.”

  That’s no longer your concern.

  “Of course it is. Before I lost the GEM, I read the Nine Divine Rules so I know that part of my job is to guide my Host Body to better choices.”

  Secrecy is also part of your job, Cola said disapprovingly.

  “I didn’t know that until after I’d already told Eli.” I didn’t add that Eli hadn’t kept the secret, either. “But since I read the GEM rules I’ve been following through on Sharayah’s plans and I haven’t gotten any tattoos or piercings. I’ve even figured out how to help Sharayah. There’s an audition in two days—”

  You won’t be here in two days. Cola’s dark eyes shone at me.

  “Why not?” I asked nervously.

  Your grandmother has reconsidered your mission.

  “What do you mean?”

  Your grandmother is sorry for all your troubles and regrets sending you on this mission without training or experience. She apologizes for her mistake.

  “But it wasn’t a mistake—I’ve been helping Sharayah.”

  Arrangements have been m
ade to reverse the soul exchange. You will return to your physical body tomorrow.

  “Tomorrow!” I cried, shaking my head.

  Isn’t that quick enough? Do you need to switch sooner?

  “No! That’s not it at all! I’m not ready to go back.”

  Cola cocked his head, looking less like an angelic messenger and more like an ordinary dog given a command he doesn’t understand. You don’t want to return to your true body?

  “Sure I do—just not till after the audition. It’ll boost Sharayah’s singing career and her self-esteem. This guy, Gabe, broke her heart and destroyed her spirit so much she gave up on herself. Now do you understand why I can’t leave?”

  No. But I am only a messenger—your grandmother is the boss.

  “Then give her a message that I need to stay for two more days.”

  It will do no good. She wants you away from danger.

  “Danger?” Squeezing my pillow to my chest, I glanced quickly around the shadowy room. “What are you talking about?”

  A Dark Lifer has been reported in the area.

  “I knew it! I’ve been suspicious of Warren ever since I met him. No one wears gloves to the beach unless they have something to hide. But how did you find out?”

  Cola’s Duty Director started flashing red and green lights as it began to spin. There are Earthbounders—humans like you—who are sensitive to energy shifts.

  “Do you mean psychics?” I guessed.

  That’s one of the words to describe those with this ability. Some of them work for us—reporting unusual activity. So you’ve met this Dark Lifer?

  “Yes,” I admitted. “Warren tricked me to going with him to a deserted building and I think he would have attacked me if he wasn’t interrupted.”

  Cola’s response was an angry growl that was probably the same as swearing in mental dog-language.

  “I wasn’t hurt,” I said quickly, to calm him down. “I got away before he could take off his gloves and steal my energy.”

  When he is captured, he will be punished severely. Cola lifted his black nose, sniffing close to me. This explains the foul odor around you.

  “You can smell a Dark Lifer on me?” I asked, surprised (and a little embarrassed) as I sat up straighter, tucking my legs beneath me.

  What sort of dog would I be if I couldn’t detect the foul essence of a Dark Lifer? Cola said, sounding insulted.

  “Do I stink now?” I asked him.

  Not to other humans, but it’s revolting to me. He scooted back to the edge of the bed.

  “Sorry.” I sniffed myself, smelling nothing out of the ordinary.

  My sniffer is so highly trained that even secondhand Dark Lifer odors are unpleasant. Still, out of loyalty to your grandmother, I do occasional tracking for her. I’ll need a description of the Dark Lifer.

  “Warren is really muscular and—”

  Not that kind of description. Cola moved closer to me, his Duty Director bursting with lights in dazzling rainbow hues. The colors merged in a brilliant iridescence as it whirled; it was spinning so fast it made me dizzy. It changed, too, lengthening and lifting, slipping over Cola’s floppy ears and rising above his head like an airship poised to launch into space.

  But instead of flying away, it sailed toward me and hovered right on top of my head, sending a gush of energized wind over me so soft and sweet it felt like a shower of air kisses. Instinctively I reached up to touch the collar, but a shocking electric tingle zapped my fingers. I pulled back, startled but not hurt.

  Sit, my dog commanded, an edge of irritation in his mind-tone.

  “Why? What’s happening up there?” I pointed to the space above my head.

  The Duty Director is preparing to scan your memories.

  “Will it hurt?”

  You won’t feel anything as it accesses the information. Sit, and stay still.

  I obeyed my dog, which seemed an ironic role reversal. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, I held my back straight and my head high as the Duty Director whirled over me like a fan and Cola studied me with his black, shining eyes. It was all so weird and surreal—sitting in a stranger’s bed, chatting with my dead dog in a bedroom decorated with kitty pictures.

  It’s ready now, Cola mind-spoke. When did you last see the Dark Lifer?

  “Today.” I glanced at a clock. “I mean, yesterday.”

  Where were you when you saw him?

  Easy enough. I thought back to the dark warehouse where bicycles surrounded the walls and Warren blocked the way to the door. Warren’s hands, concealed in leather, had been reaching for me, so dangerously close that remembering made me hot with fear about what might have happened.

  Got it! Good girl! Cola’s voice applauded.

  The whistling over my head stilled as the whirling collar floated away from me and circled quietly in the air.

  “You’re done? Already?” Cautiously reaching up, I touched my head. “What exactly did you do?”

  Copied the live image of the Dark Lifer from your memories. Then the Duty Director distributed the images to members of the Dark Disposal Team to aid in the capture of the renegade soul.

  I nodded, remembering my experience with the DDT—how a man and woman wearing ordinary business suits appeared out of nothingness and captured a dangerous Dark Lifer with their snake-like silver ropes. Then, in a flash, they were gone, taking their prisoner with them.

  “So they’ll get rid of Warren?” I asked hopefully.

  They’ll try—knowing his temporary appearance helps. Most Dark Lifers are confused souls who run because they’re afraid. They are easy to apprehend. The one you came in contact with last week was like that.

  “His capture was quick,” I agreed.

  That’s the way it is with most Dark Lifers. But then there are the old souls, the Dark Lifers who have been switching bodies for centuries and are clever and elusive.

  “Warren didn’t seem very clever when he was running from a knife,” I scoffed.

  He had reason to be afraid. If a borrowed body is injured and bleeds the Dark Lifer inside is ejected and has only ten minutes to find a new body before the DD Team discovers his (or her) location. Without the protection of a human body, souls shine so brightly they can be seen from the other side. Even a newbie Dark Lifer would know to run from a knife.

  “But if Dark Lifers can hide in human bodies, how do you find them?”

  Eighty percent of Dark Lifers are frightened after a few days hiding in a borrowed body and they beg to be returned. Nineteen percent are easily caught because they make dumb mistakes that draw attention to themselves.

  Math from my dead dog. Go figure.

  “What about the other one percent?” I asked curiously.

  That’s the hard part. If they suspect we’re closing in on them, they switch to a new body. Cola puffed out a doggy sigh. There is only one sure way to catch them.

  “How?”

  Deception. The Dark Disposal Team must catch them unaware—but this is difficult without the help of a living person.

  “I’m alive—and I’d like to help,” I offered. “If Warren isn’t caught soon, he’ll go after my friend Sadie. I’ll do whatever I can to stop him.”

  I cannot allow that. Risking your body is against the Divine Rules. If this Dark Lifer is an old soul, he may have the strength and knowledge to drain your energy until you can’t even breathe. The lucky ones die.

  “Die! You mean really die … like you and Grammy Greta?”

  Worse. We ended long lives naturally and made it to the other side safely with healthy souls.

  “What happens to the ‘unlucky’ ones?”

  Insanity—they lose their minds. Cola pointed a furry paw at me. Besides, your grandmother would never allow it.

  “So don’t tell her.”

  I would never go against her orders—and warn you not to, either. For your soul’s safety, stay away from Dark Lifers.

  Then Cola slipped his Duty Director back on and vanished.

&nbs
p; Despite my utter exhaustion, I slept badly that night.

  Tossing, turning, tormented, my thoughts spun into tornadoes of confusion. I was torn between wanting to return to my real body and wanting to stay in Sharayah’s body long enough to get her to the audition. If I could jump-start her career, that would help fix all her problems. I had to show her she was worth more than some guy who broke her heart, and that she had the talent to become a star. She needed to stop throwing herself at random guys and return to her family. Being admired by fans was a great cure for heartbreak. She’d be so busy she’d forget all about Gabe. And Eli would get his sister back.

  Grammy was wrong about my being wrong for the mission. No matter what it took, I’d prove that I wasn’t a failure. I could handle a Temp Lifer mission just as well as a dead soul could.

  Still, as I slipped in and out of dreams, I thought of my family and friends and how much I missed them. Drifting on memories, I relived a perfect day where everyone I cared about came together to celebrate a triple birthday.

  If days could be rated, this one deserved a Ten-Plus-Perfect. Everyone I cared about was there—my parents, sisters, best friends, neighbor Dilly, my cousin Zeke (minus Aunt Suzanne), all smiling and having a great time. The ice cream was even my favorite flavor—Heavenly Hash.

  When I woke up, the taste of ice cream lingered in my mouth and a tear trailed down my cheek.

  Sitting up in bed, still wearing yesterday’s clothes, I was alone except for the cat curled beside me. I scooped her furry body into my arms, struggling against an overwhelming wave of loneliness.

  “I miss everyone so much, Kitty Calico,” I whispered. “But I can’t go back yet.”

  Only how could I convince Grammy?

  I really needed to talk to someone—and not just anyone, but the one person who knew all my secrets and understood me better than anyone else: my best friend forever, Alyce. I could always count on her to listen without interrupting while I vented, and to assure me everything would be okay. Whenever I was a mopey mess of emotions, I’d vent to Alyce and she’d know the perfect thing to say to make me feel better. But lately (since my near-death and body-switching), we hadn’t had a chance for a heart-to-heart talk.