by Janni Nell
“Steven didn’t see her.”
“You sure?”
“Of course I’m sure.”
“Hypothetically,” I said, expecting Mom to arc up, “if he saw her, would he admit it? He knows how much you hate any mention of the paranormal.”
Surprisingly, she didn’t disagree. Pensive, she traced the smooth white paint on the table in the summerhouse. Finally she admitted, “I suppose you could be right. Steven’s first priority would be protecting me. As you say, he knows how I feel about the paranormal. But one thing I know for sure, the changes in Steven aren’t due to fear. He’s not afraid of anything.”
My job would be a lot easier if Mom stopped behaving as though Steven was the strongest most powerful man on earth. Okay, it was nice that she thought so—probably did wonders for their relationship—but it wouldn’t help my investigation.
“I think it’s time I asked Steven some questions.”
“You won’t get much response other than a grunt. Even when there’s no game on.”
“It won’t matter. I can learn things even if he says nothing.”
“Very well, question him. You’re the professional.” Her acknowledgement of my expertise was grudging. Mom had never liked my chosen profession and she liked it even less now that she needed my help.
After telling her to give me some time alone with Steven, I wandered into the room where he was watching TV and slumped on the sofa beside him.
“Good game?” I asked.
He mumbled something I couldn’t understand. When I mumbled back, he nodded as though I’d said something perfectly intelligible, proving that he really didn’t listen when you talked to him during a game. But that didn’t mean he was possessed. It was a man thing.
We watched the football game in silence for a while. I didn’t know or care who was playing, but I knew I wouldn’t get much sense from Steven while the players were running back and forth. I waited patiently until they were done. Steven shot off the sofa and punched the air. I guessed his team won. He popped a can of beer to celebrate.
“Want one, Allegra?” he offered, proving that he was still capable of coherent speech. When I accepted it, he said, “You’re a great girl to watch a game with. You know when to shut up and you make fucking good comments.”
I was less shocked by his reference to my mumbles being intelligent than calling them “fucking good.” Steven never swore. Ever. He might have a pole up his ass but you couldn’t accuse him of not being a gentleman. Until now.
After taking a sip of beer—oh, for a piña colada—I said, “Heard you saw a ghost,” and waited for his reaction. He turned as white as coconut cream. (Must stop thinking about piña coladas.) He rubbed his hand across his forehead as though he was trying to wipe away a ghostly kiss, then promptly denied seeing anything.
“Okay,” I murmured, lapsing into silence and giving him time to reconsider his answer. The beer can grew warm in my hand. From another part of the house came the sound of Mom’s heels pacing back and forth. Steven cocked his head. At first I thought he was listening to the sound of her footfalls, but when he spoke again, I knew he’d been thinking about something else.
“I haven’t seen a ghost,” he said, crushing his empty beer can and tossing it on the floor. “But I’ve had these weird fucking dreams.”
When he didn’t continue, I prompted, “About?”
“A beautiful woman with hair as dark as ravens’ wings and eyes the color of dew-kissed violets.” Well, if he was possessed, it was by the spirit of a bad poet. He went on, “She was dressed in old-fashioned clothes. She bent over me and she…um…she—” His cheeks flushed like a girl.
I helped him. “Did she kiss your forehead?”
“My mouth. She kissed my mouth. But even though she was beautiful, I hated it. She wasn’t trying to seduce me. She was trying to drain the life from me.” He lit a cigarette and dragged deeply. “I’ve dreamed about her more than once. Sometimes, even when I’m awake I can feel her presence. I know it’s my imagination playing tricks, but she feels so real.”
“Is she here now?” I asked.
If he answered yes, I’d know it was his imagination and not the paranormal. How did I know? I have a secret weapon. Ever since I was a little kid my right big toe has itched in the presence of the paranormal. And it wasn’t itching now.
Steven said, “She’s not here.” Suddenly he covered his face with his hands and started to sob. Ash floated from his cigarette onto the rug. I brushed it off before it could burn and gently removed the cigarette from his hand, crushing it in the saucer he was using as an ashtray. “I don’t know what to do, Allegra, I feel so alone. I can’t tell Sondra. You know how she feels about the paranormal. It would kill her to know I was involved as well as—” He stopped before he said, you.
Great to know my career choice was killing Mom. So I guess it was only fair to do something that would make her want to kill me. I said to Steven, “You know that night you sleepwalked and drove to The Hollows? Well, right before you got out of bed, Mom saw a beautiful misty ghost in your bedroom. That’s why I’m here. Mom called me to investigate.”
Steven’s mouth opened but no sound came out. It was probably the first time in his life he’d been speechless—very uncomfortable for a politician.
“Sondra’s seen a ghost?” He seemed to be having a hard time believin it. Suddenly he burst out laughing, the kind of hysterical laughter that’s one degree from sobbing. “That beats everything. Shit, poor Sondra. I have to talk to her.”
I put a hand on his arm, preventing him from rushing right to her. “Before you go, is there anything more you can tell me about the woman in your dreams?”
“Only that she wants me dead.”
“Why? Have you pissed her off?”
He lit another cigarette, smoking half of it before he finally shook his head. “I don’t even know who she is. So, I have no idea why, or even if, she’s pissed off with me.”
My life would be a lot simpler if ghosts were more forthright. But then I guess I wouldn’t have a job. Anyway, I wasn’t taking this case for him. I was taking it because I cared about Mom. Despite our differences, I wanted her to be happy and if that meant sorting out Steven’s paranormal problem then, bugger it, that’s what I’d do.
“I’m sorry I can’t give you more to go on,” he said. “Sorry, Allegra.”
Now I knew things were bad. Steven never said sorry. It wasn’t in his vocabulary. He got unsteadily to his feet and called to my mom. “Sondra, we have to talk.”
“Careful.” I grabbed his arm, guiding him around a stack of beer cans. Mom rushed into the room. Her nose crinkled at his beer breath but she swallowed her disgust and suggested he join her in the kitchen for coffee. I hoped she wasn’t going to have any more. She was jittery enough.
As they trudged to the kitchen, my cell phone rang. According to caller ID it was my sister. Now that was really weird. She never called me.
“Hi, Lily.”
“Allegra.” She was breathless like she’d been running a long way or—omigod—
“Are you in labor?”
“No, I’ve still got a few weeks to go. Are you at Mom’s yet? Great. We have to talk.” Lily was seven years older than me—thirty-two—and we no longer had much in common. She was the very conventional wife of a lawyer with political ambitions, while I, with my short red hair and lanky frame, looked as unconventional as my job. We hadn’t had a heart-to-heart talk in years. Not that we weren’t speaking or anything, we just didn’t have much to say to each other.
“Okay, I guess we can talk if you want to,” I said. “I’ll drop in sometime tomorrow. Or the next day.”
“You have to come now. There’s a—um—problem—um—” Usually Lily was extremely articulate. She didn’t know the meaning of um, but suddenly it had become her favorite word.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“I—um—oh, this is so—um—hard—um—I’ll tell you when you get here.”
<
br /> Leaving Mom and Steven having their own heart-to-heart in the kitchen, I jogged the couple of blocks to Pilgrim Parade and the house Lily shared with her husband SJ. I figured I’d be there about thrty minutes, which was as long as my sister and I could be together without wanting to bitch slap one another.
When I arrived she flung her arms around me, getting as close as her pregnant belly would allow. Very different from her usual greeting of air kisses. Then, in an eerie echo of Mom at the airport, she gasped, “Thank God you’re here.”
Shelving the thought that Lily was possessed, I said, “What’s up?”
“It’s SJ. He’s been having nightmares about someone trying to kill him.”
“A woman with black hair and violet eyes?”
Her jaw gaped. “How did you know? Omigod—can you read minds?”
“Nothing so exciting. Steven’s been having similar dreams.”
“Is that what made him sleepwalk the other night? Oh poor Steven.” Typical Lily response. She’d always liked Steven. Guess that’s why she’d married his son.
“Can I talk to SJ?” I asked.
“Of course, come through.” She led me from the entrance hall to a back room where he was listlessly shooting balls across a pool table.
“Hi,” I said.
Once SJ would have flashed his famous charming smile followed by a brotherly peck on the cheek, but now he barely looked up from the green baize. “Nice to see you, Allegra.”
I picked up a cue. “Mind if I play?”
He shrugged. I broke, doing myself no favors but setting up some nice shots for him. As he sank more balls his depression lifted. When I let him beat me—a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence—he managed a semblance of his charming smile.
I removed the balls from the pockets. “Lily mentioned you’ve been having trouble sleeping.”
“Nightmares. Almost every night. I can’t get back to sleep afterwards.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe it’s something to do with Lily’s pregnancy. Maybe I’m not ready to become a father. But that’s ridiculous—we planned this baby.”
“I thought your dreams were about a beautiful woman.”
“Who said she was beautiful?” His eyes darted back and forth anxiously. “I never told Lily that.”
Of course he hadn’t. Lily would skin him alive.
I quickly filled him in on what had been happening over on Mayflower Avenue. “Your dad has been dreaming about a beautiful woman who kisses his mouth. He believes she means to harm him.”
“So you think my dreams and Dad’s sleepwalking are connected. That’s why you’re here. Looking for a paranormal problem where none exists. What’s up, jobs a bit scarce lately?”
I didn’t bother answering. There was always enough work to keep me busy.
“Stop looking for something extraordinary,” he said. “Everyone has nightmares. Lots of people sleepwalk. End of story.”
Except it wasn’t. I mean, this is only the first chapter. There’s lots more story.
“When you went to The Hollows to bring Steven home, did you see the beautiful woman there?”
“Of course not. Clearly she’s a figment of my imagination. All I saw was—” He clamped his lips shut.
“Aha—you did see something.”
“Not really. It was just shadows.”
“Come on, SJ. Share. What did the shadows look like?”
He caved quicker than I’d expected. “An animal, but don’t quote me on that. I couldn’t see very well.”
“What kind of animal?”
“Possibly a bear.”
“Bear, huh?” I shot him a skeptical glance. “Come on, SJ, what did you really see?”
He let out a long sigh. “Alright, I’ll tell you but you won’t believe it. I saw a little old lady—hunched over like she had bone problems. She was up high, looking down on us. I got the impression she was angry although I can’t explain why I felt that. Perhaps Dad was right and she meant to harm him. One thing I am certain of, she wasn’t a ghost. She was alive.” He picked up a blue cube of chalk and rubbed it on the tip of his cue. “And that is honestly all I saw.”
Call me skeptical but the average lawyer doesn’t do honesty. It’s not a concept they understand. Still, I thought he was telling the truth about what he believed he’d seen. Maybe it had looked like an old woman, but that didn’t make sense. An old woman couldn’t survive in the inhospitable terrain of The Hollows.
SJ kept his eyes on the pool balls as he asked, “You’ll find out what’s going on before the baby’s born, won’t you?”
Covering my uncertainty with flippancy, I clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s why I’m here, brother-in-law.”
He winced. Not that I’d hit his shoulder all that hard. I think it was the reference to our in-law relationship. He was as embarrassed as Mom by the family’s resident paranormal investigator.
SJ asked if I’d like another game. I couldn’t face letting him win twice in a row, so I lied and said Mom was expecting me back soon. I told another lie when Lily walked me to the door and asked if I was looking forward to being an aunt.
“Can’t wait.” Truthfully I’m not that into babies.
As I jogged back to Mayflower Avenue, I wondered whether to check out The Hollows immediately. Despite my impatience to solve this case I decided to wait until morning. Just as well, because Mom needed my help getting Steven upstairs to their king-size bed. She tied his ankle to the bedpost, explaining she’d been doing that since he started sleepwalking. Not that it stopped him, but at least it woke her.
She lay down beside him fully clothed just in case she had to chase him in the middle of the night. “Get some rest while you can,” she told me. “If he sleepwalks I’ll yell forand#8221;
I went along the hall to my old room. Steven had bought this house for Mom before Dad was legally declared dead. I’d lived here with her and Lily until my successful amateur attempts at solving paranormal problems had encouraged me to turn professional. Mom couldn’t handle my involvement with the paranormal so I moved to San Diego with my best friend, Wanda.
Mom had long ago replaced my purple curtains and bedcover with something white and frilly. My gold cushions were now pale peach and so was the rug on the polished floorboards. My tattered copies of the first Harry Potter books (yeah, I know, so predictable) and superhero comics had been stored in boxes and consigned to the basement. The marks on the walls from my old posters of rock stars had been covered with a coat of pastel paint and there were white drapes at the window. I felt like I’d wandered into Lily’s room by mistake.
After kicking off my shoes, I tossed my jacket on the white cane chair and sprawled on the bed. Like Mom, I decided it’d be a good idea to sleep in my clothes. But the night was uneventful. With hindsight I now know it was the calm before the storm. If I’d guessed what was coming, I wouldn’t have slept a wink.
Chapter Two
Only lunatics and teenagers went to The Hollows. And since I was neither I had a healthy respect for what I might find there.
After turning off the main road, I followed a dirt track that wound beneath a tunnel of overhanging branches. In summer they’d have created a thick canopy of shade, but fall had turned the leaves to a carpet of yellow and orange. Above the semi-bare branches, the sky was leaden, making it hard to distinguish from the grey-brown rocks of The Hollows. As I drove closer, the majestic tunnel of branches made way for bare ground and stunted shrubs.
Leaving Mom’s car a quick sprint from The Hollows, I got out and made my way past the blackened remains of a camp fire, skirting a broken bourbon bottle, discarded bongs and condom wrappers. The sun must’ve had a big night too because it was still pushing up Z’s beneath the thick blanket of gray cloud. Huddling into my too-thin jacket I started to climb, scrambling over rocks and avoiding the dangerous narrow ledges.
High above me wind sighed through the labyrinth of arches and caves that gave The Hollows its name. I’ve been to lonely places be
fore, but this was different. The stench of death and decay was guaranteed to turn the strongest stomach. Add the seriously malevolent atmosphere and this was worse than your average graveyard at midnight.
SJ claimed he’d seen an old lady but I thought it much more likely he’d seen some kind of animal. Exactly how that fit in with the beautiful misty ghost was a mystery, but I’d figure it out eventually. Right then I was more concerned with scaling the eastern face of The Hollows. I figured that following the stench, which was now laced with the scents of bitter herbs and charred wood, would lead me to whatever SJ had seen.
If it was a bear, I could be in trouble. I don’t usually carry a gun. They’re not much use against the paranormal. I mean, you can’t use one against a ghost since they’re already dead, and killing other paranormal beings often requires special equipment like silver bullets. If you prepared for every eventuality you’d be carrying around an quinal. Anyway, my best weapon is my brain. Closely followed by my fists. Not that I’m a martial arts expert or anything. I’m more like a street fighter, a kick-’em-in-the-balls-and-hope-they-go-down kinda girl. Mind you, if I met a bear I’d just run for my life.
The bear scenario shifted from almost impossible to very plausible when I saw the first bone. Strings of old meat clung determinedly to a slender white shaft pitted with teeth marks. I couldn’t tell whether it came from a human finger or a small animal but neither was particularly encouraging.
The Hollows was the perfect place for animals—a huge apartment block of caves. Some were deep narrow holes, while others, like the one to my left, were shallower, as though a giant spoon had taken a scoop out of the rock. Nearby tufts of grass poked through gaps between the grey-brown rocks. They rustled in the lonely breeze but nothing else moved. Not a lizard or a bug. Or for that matter any small animals. Everything was in hiding, and who could blame them? Sensible humans should be in hiding too.
