Necromantia

by Sheri Lewis Wohl

  “That they don’t think I’m crazy.”

  “What do you mean, Circe?” Diana looked at her with a questioning gaze that suddenly shifted into understanding. “Nobody knows what you can do?”

  With the backs of her hands she wiped away the tears as she nodded. “I have a very dear friend who does, and she’s the only one.”

  “But she thinks you’re crazy?”

  That made Circe laugh out loud all over again. “Oh, she thinks I’m crazy, but not in that way. No, it’s not that. This thing has been with me as long as I can remember. When I was really young my family passed it off as a child’s imagination, except it didn’t go away as I got older. Then they started getting worried that something was wrong with me. I finally learned I had to keep my secret to myself or I would probably spend my life in doctors’ offices or, worse, in an institution. Since then, I haven’t shared the truth with anyone except Vickie.”

  “And now me.”

  It was hard to believe she’d actually done it. “And now with you.”

  Diana was shaking her head. “You’ve kept this bottled up all your life?”

  The shock in Diana’s voice almost undid her again, and she breathed deep to keep her tears in check. “It’s not the kind of thing you can share with people.”

  “This is new to me too, but I have to tell you, I’m amazed. I’ve seen some interesting things in my time that defy any rational explanation, and I’ve always tried to keep an open mind. I’ve seen what you and Zelda can do. That you could take something that would put most people in lifetime therapy and use it to not only stay sane but to help others is cool on a level I don’t see very often.”

  “Thank you.” She hugged Diana.

  “So, tell me what you saw tonight.”

  The innocent request sent chills up her spine. That the dead had come to her here, in her own home, scared the daylights out of her, and considering everything she’d seen in her life that said a lot. At the same time it was hard to explain to Diana what a big deal it was. Might as well just put it out there, and maybe together they could make sense of out of it.

  “So like I said, the spirits of the dead women came to me.”

  “The women you and Zelda found?”

  She nodded. “Yes, all four of them.”

  “Joanna?” She said the name softly, painfully, and tears came into her eyes.

  “Yes.”

  Diana seemed to pull herself together. “They came here and that’s not what they normally do.”

  This time she shook her head. “Not at all, and that’s why it freaked me out. They don’t show up in my house.”

  “That sounds bad.”

  It had struck her the same way when it happened. Now that she’d had a chance to think about it, what really hit her hard was the fear. It wasn’t the fact they came to her in her own home as much as the two words they said with such solemnity: “Help her.”

  *

  He was dead fucking wrong. He’d come home in the best possible mood, and it all went to hell the second he stepped inside. This shit had to stop and stop now.

  The kitchen was a war zone: broken glasses, broken plates, trash left on the floor. Something brown and gooey oozed across the tiles, turning them from white to russet. An acrid smell like old vinegar filled his nostrils.

  He did a full circle and let the rage wash over him. He’d been putting up with her temper tantrums for years, and he was done. If he could make all those other women disappear, he could sure as hell wipe her off the face of the earth.

  His mind made up, he went out to the garage and grabbed the broom, dustpan, and mop. It took him half an hour to clean up all the broken glassware and dinnerware. It was scattered everywhere. He even had to pull out the refrigerator and stove in order to sweep up all the pieces. Pieces of blue pottery at the base of the wall made his blood boil and he carefully retrieved them, hoping to save his favorite coffee mug. It was not to be; the mug, a memento from another place, another kill, was beyond repair. The sticky substance was more stubborn, and he had to resort to hot water and cleanser to return the tile to its pristine white.

  By the time he finished, the air smelled of pine and he was calmer than when he first walked into the kitchen, but that didn’t dampen his resolve. This was the last time he intended to tidy up after one of her tantrums. He was done. D.O.N.E.

  The broom and dustpan back on the hook in the garage and the mop hung up to dry, he returned to the kitchen, intending to call it a night. As he walked past the door to the basement he paused. No, he thought, she wouldn’t dare. She absolutely was not allowed to go into his special workspace, not ever, and even she wouldn’t be that bold.

  He backed up and stared in disbelief at the padlock. It was open, and he knew good and well he’d locked it earlier. Taking hold of the doorknob, he turned it slowly, swung the door open, and flipped on the light. As he descended the stairs a familiar odor assailed him, and the fury he’d managed to tamp down as he cleaned the kitchen began to rise again. At the bottom of the stairs he stopped for a moment before he turned to look.

  Fury colored his world crimson. At the end of the room, his shelves were all but empty. Instead of being lined by neat rows of glass jars, each filled with glistening liquid and carefully labeled with name, date, and time, the shelves were a mess, as if someone has swiped an arm across them, sending jars tumbling and flying.

  Strewn across his floor, so recently scrubbed and sanitized, were his precious jars, or what was left of them. Broken glass, metal lids, and dark fluids mingled to create a dark, shimmering carpet where only hours ago it had been hospital-clean concrete. If she wanted to get back at him, to punish him, she’d hit the right chord.

  His breath caught in his throat and his heart pounded. How could she do this to him after everything he’d done for her? He’d protected her, covered for her, forgiven her over and over again. After the mess in the kitchen he hadn’t believed it could get any worse, and once more she’d proved him wrong. This wasn’t just worse; it was catastrophic.

  She’d destroyed his careful work, his years of accomplishments. The plans he carefully laid were in ruins. It was so clear now. She was out of control, and he wouldn’t rest until he destroyed her. This was the last time she would cause him grief.

  He whipped around and began to pound back up the stairs. Suddenly his steps slowed. No, he’d changed his mind. He could put her down once and for all, yet that wasn’t enough. Before he destroyed her, he wanted her to suffer, and he knew exactly how to make her hurt all the way to her soul. Payback was going to be a real bitch.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I think I’m in love.” Paul panted. The first passionate kiss had morphed from making out to mind-blowing sex. His heart was pounding, and he could barely breathe. Not real manly but damned if he didn’t feel fantastic.

  A little scared too, not that he would ever admit that out loud. Again, not real manly. He couldn’t help the way he felt. Lisa was unlike any other woman he’d ever met. He’d been having some of the worst days ever, and out of the darkness came this incredible woman. Made all of it worthwhile.

  Her place was amazing too. Warm and inviting, it seemed to embody her generous and loving nature. The minute he’d walked in he felt as though he could stay here forever, and right now that’s exactly what he wanted to do. Peace and tranquillity was a great antidote to the darkness touching his life.

  Even as wonderful as he felt, a bit of unease rippled just below the surface. The whole Brenda thing had him second-guessing his ability to judge the reality of a relationship.

  This was different. When he told her he thought he was in love, he’d said those words only partially in jest. He was afraid he’d tucked a whole lot of truth into them.

  Lisa rolled over and kissed him. “You probably say that to all the girls.” Her laugh let him know she was joking.

  “Only the pretty ones.”

  “Oh, now I’m flattered. You think I’m pretty.”

&n
bsp; He slowly ran his hand over her cheek. His eyes met hers. “I don’t think you’re pretty.”

  A cloud passed through her eyes. “You don’t?”

  He shook his head just a little and kept his gazed locked on hers. “No, not pretty. You’re breathtaking.”

  A smile replaced the shadow. “And you’re hot…for a cop.”

  “Careful.” He loved to tease her. “Or I’ll have to cuff you.”

  She pressed her lips against his. “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  Much later, he got up and went to the window. Lisa was asleep, the sheet pulled up, her hair spread out on the pillow. She was beautiful and peaceful, and he was glad she could sleep. He still couldn’t.

  Outside it was dark, and though it was a residential neighborhood, lights were not plentiful. Only a sporadic porch light broke the darkness of the night. Each home in the area was on a lot no smaller than a full acre, and many were much larger. Bridle trails snaked behind the houses to give people a place to ride horses and mountain bikes, and to walk dogs. The setting was beautiful and private. He could see why Circe was drawn to buy the house.

  By all rights he should be exhausted. Instead he was wide-awake. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel alive and, well, frankly fantastic. It was more what was working underneath all the goodness. He had a feeling like ants crawling up the back of his neck that he couldn’t shake. He was really worried those ants had a name: Brenda.

  A muffled sound broke the quiet. At first he couldn’t figure out what it was, and then he realized it was the buzz of his phone. Someone was sending him a text message in the middle of the night. He found his pants draped over a chair and shoved his hand into a front pocket.

  The text was from Will, and what it said sent a chill through him. Though the message said to call in the morning, he didn’t plan to wait. Whatever Will needed to tell him, he needed to hear it now. He slipped on his jeans and silently made his way out of Lisa’s bedroom.

  Will picked up on the first ring.

  “What’s up?” Paul asked.

  “Well, you are, apparently.” Will was never the one to pass up the obvious. “Dude, what are you doing up this late?”

  “Long story.”

  “You home?”

  “No.” He didn’t plan to explain where he was. He wasn’t ready to talk about his feelings toward Lisa to anyone yet.

  “Good.”

  “Good?” What kind of flipping conversation was this anyway? He was expecting the third-degree from Will. That he was not giving it made the hair stand up on the back of Paul’s neck.

  “Look, here’s my long story, short. Your girlfriend is some kind of crazy.”

  “I thought we’d already established that.”

  “Oh, it goes deeper, my friend. Much, much deeper.”

  *

  Diana didn’t miss the fear that flashed though Circe’s eyes. Just imagining what she’d endured her whole life and the way she had to keep it bottled up like a secret hurt her heart. Nobody should have to grow up afraid of being locked away. Nobody should have to live a life imprisoned by secrets.

  Without giving herself a chance to think about it, she pulled Circe close. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered against her hair. “I’m here for you and we’ll figure this out together.”

  Circe wrapped her arms around Diana and hugged her back. “Thank you,” she whispered back.

  “Thank you for trusting me.”

  Circe kissed her and then gave her another tight hug. “I’m so glad we met.”

  “That makes two of us,” Diana said as she broke the embrace. “Now, let’s figure out what to do with them.”

  “Do with them?” Circe looked at her with a puzzled expression.

  Diana nodded. “Them…the ghosts of the women.”

  “I don’t understand. Do something with them?”

  “Yeah, there’s got to be a reason why all four women appeared to you here. Think about it. You see the dead where they are buried and they don’t move around. So why would they come to you now? What has changed? Some dynamic’s at play here, and they’re desperately trying to communicate it to you. We’ve got to figure out what it is. What changed the game, so to speak?”

  Circe sat back and stared at her. “You’re taking this seriously, aren’t you?”

  Of course she was. She didn’t see any reason not to, despite the distinct note of incredulity in Circe’s voice. Circe had shared this with her, yet she had the sense she had fully expected her to run away screaming. To be honest, Diana was a bit surprised she did believe her. After all, it wasn’t like people regularly shared things like this with her. And the ones who did typically ended up being referred to the psych ward at the local hospital under an armed law-enforcement escort.

  Circe was different. This woman was as sane as Diana; she’d bet the bank on it. So, if Circe said she could see the dead…she could see the dead. It was that simple. She believed her and she was going to act on that belief.

  She didn’t blink, didn’t look away. “As a heart attack.”

  For a long moment Circe just stared at her, and then the corner of her mouth turned up and she nodded. “All right then. I agree. This change means something. They want me to help her, and so all we need to figure out is who is her?”

  “Narrows it right down.”

  The expression on Circe’s face shifted and darkness settled over her features. “It’s a big city, a big county. Zelda and I could search for weeks and never get close to finding her. I don’t know how to help these women.”

  Diana didn’t like the sadness that pulled at Circe. Apparently neither did Zelda, who padded in and jumped onto the bed. She gave Circe a quick lick on the cheek before turning three times and lying down with a groan. Then she closed her eyes and promptly went to sleep.

  “We’ll figure this out. Together, all three of us.”

  Circe ran a hand over Zelda’s big head, which seemed to impart an instant calm. “I hope so.”

  “How can we fail? I mean, really think about it, Circe. We have you with your supernatural abilities. We have Zelda, search dog extraordinaire, and then you’ve got me, super detective. We’re a triple threat.”

  Circe smiled as she looked at the sleeping dog and then brought her gaze up to meet Diana’s. “You know, I think you might just have a point.”

  “Bank on it.”

  Circe reached over and laid her hand against Diana’s cheek. “I trust you, and I’m thanking my lucky stars we were brought together.”

  Diana got it. She was thanking her lucky stars that she’d met both Circe and Zelda. Sometimes the stars really did align, and all it took was being in the right place at the right time for it to matter. “Believe me, we will figure this out, but I should probably leave and let you get some sleep. We can dig into this more in the morning.”

  Circe grabbed her hand and held it tight. “Morning works for me. You going home doesn’t.” That wicked little smile came back onto her face.

  *

  Circe came up out of bed fast. Deep sleep had vanished the second icy fingers touched her cheek. Instinctively she knew they didn’t belong to Diana, who still slept peacefully, her dark hair in contrast to the cream-colored pillowcase. No, the touch on her skin was otherworldly and lacking anything remotely similar to warmth.

  From the back of the bathroom door she grabbed her robe and slipped into it, tying the belt tight around her waist. The carpet was soft beneath her feet, and she soundlessly made her way out of the bedroom. At four in the morning here, cars driving down the street were rare, and rather than people, she was more likely to find a raccoon or a deer or even a moose meandering down the street.

  At the big front window she stood with a glass of water and stared outside. She knew who’d touched her and brought her out of a deep and satisfying sleep. What she didn’t know was why. Zelda padded out of the bedroom and sat next to her. She reached down and ran her hand over her head.

  “You feel it too, d
on’t you, Z?”

  Zelda’s only response was the thump of her tail against the carpeted floor. Yes, she felt it just as Circe did. Something was off in the universe, and her girls—that’s how she was beginning to think of them—were trying to guide her to some kind of revelation.

  Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed a flash of light. Her head snapped around, and for a second she saw nothing. Perhaps she was imagining things, but she quickly realized she wasn’t. With a resounding boom, flames engulfed the car sitting in her driveway. She screamed and jumped back, and her water glass went flying. At first she thought her car had just gone up in flames, and then she realized her car was parked inside the garage. The car that had just exploded was Diana’s.

  She yelled “Diana” before grabbing her cell phone and flying outside. After calling 911, she raced for the hose at the corner of the house and began to spray the flaming car with water. Before long she could hear the sound of sirens in the distance. Thank goodness the local fire station was only half a mile away.

  “Holy shit!” Diana was standing next to her, dressed but barefoot. “What the hell? How did that happen?”

  A fire truck came screaming around the corner and pulled into her driveway. She stepped back gratefully to let them take over.

  “I don’t know,” she said to Diana. “One minute I was just looking at the window and the next, boom! Your car was a giant fireball in a matter of seconds.”

  Diana was shaking her head vehemently. “Nothing was wrong with my car. No way could something like this happen spontaneously.”

  As she’d stood there spraying the car with her ineffectual garden hose, the same thing had occurred to her. “Not without help.”

  Diana was rubbing the back of her neck with both hands. “I was thinking the same thing.” Slowly her hands came down and she turned a full circle, scanning everything as she did.

  “What do you see?” Circe could tell by the expression on her face she was searching. Her eyes were narrowed and her face intense.