Spirits in the Material World

by Lisa Shea

  “My point is, I thought what we had was normal. That any new woman I dated, I’d just naturally have it again.”

  He looked down at his hands. “But I didn’t. It didn’t happen again.”

  I could hear it now. The sense of loss in his voice.

  I should have been jubilant. I should have been filled with victory. Isn’t this what I had wanted to hear from him, from the very moment I realized he’d been cheating on me? That he regretted his actions? That he desperately wished that he’d never done it?

  But I had changed. He had changed. We had both grown. And now we were looking back on the foolish choices made by teenagers who barely understood the world.

  I put my hands over his. “You were good to me, for the time we were together. You stuck by me when my parents died. I wouldn’t have made it through that without you. And, well, that changed me. You know it did. I couldn’t trust that anybody would really be around for me after that. Even when we were dating, I always had a sense that it would end. That you’d leave me. So when I realized you were cheating, it was as if I’d known it was coming. I didn’t try to keep you. I just let you go.”

  “I hurt you. I was wrong.”

  I gave a small smile. “You were a teenage boy. We all did stupid things back then.”

  The waitress came with our meals, and we settled down to eat them. If the beers had been sodas, and the music a decade or so older, it could have been our younger selves. Two kids trying to figure out what it meant to be an adult.

  At last I couldn’t put off the purpose of our meeting any more. I pressed aside my plate and put out my hand. His fell on top of mine as if it had always been there.

  I said, “Bryane, I need you to be honest with me.”

  His blue eyes held mine. He nodded. “You deserve that.”

  A twinge coursed through me, and I took a deep breath.

  “Yesterday afternoon. When we met at the bar. Something had upset you deeply. I’ve rarely seen you like that.”

  He paled, but he nodded.

  I waited.

  His hand remained over mine. “It was a … a past acquaintance. An intimate acquaintance. I keep thinking, if I keep trying with someone new, that … well, anyway. It didn’t work out with her. But we keep in touch. And she called in a desperate panic. Something had gone drastically wrong.”

  “That was the call when I was in your office. When Betty came in.”

  “Wilma,” he automatically corrected. “Yes. Anyway, my … friend … had tried something out of her league. And it was just a disaster. I had to get to her and get it under control. It’s, well, it’s not something I like to do. And I probably would have refused, if it hadn’t been her. I sort of owed her.”

  I could only imagine what he had done to her. Maybe cheated on her as well.

  “So, anyway, I got to her and handled the situation. But I guess it shook me more than I thought it would.”

  I took a deep breath. Here was where we would see just how far his new honesty stretched.

  I said, “It was Dalilah, wasn’t it.”

  His eyes shot up at that, surprise echoing in them.

  I nodded. “And she had a dybbuk box.”

  His eyes went completely flat.

  He had wholly withdrawn. I could almost see him scrambling to figure out what to do. To get a sense of how much I knew. How much he had to reveal. How much I would blame him.

  I had to play this extremely carefully. Bryane was the boy I had once loved with all my heart – but he was now a fully grown adult man with a vast commercial empire. His priorities were clearly of a different nature now.

  I held his gaze. “I know the Bryane I fell in love with would never hurt an innocent spirit. I know the only reason you helped Dalilah was that she had already bungled the whole capture. If things were left as they were, the spirit could easily be killed. Or worse. She could be cast eternally into some sort of black hole.”

  He leaned forward, his gaze intense. “Exactly. You remember what we used to talk about. The risks. Why nobody – and I mean nobody – should ever attempt this sort of action.” He blew out his breath. “Especially not Dalilah. What in the Hell was she thinking? She could barely even glimpse spirits, never mind attempt something this high level!”

  “So you went to her to try to get things under control. You wanted to help. That’s the Bryane I remember. The man I loved.”

  His breathing eased, and his gaze held mine again. The waitress came to clear our plates, and bring us another round, but he barely saw them. He was fully on me.

  At last he said, his voice low, “I never meant to hurt anyone. I didn’t even realize the spirit was Anna until this afternoon. When I stood in that kitchen. Back when Dalilah called me in a panic, I thought it truly was a malicious spirit, that she’d risked her life, and I did what I thought I had to do.”

  “Of course,” I soothed him. “It was an emergency. You were doing your best to help a friend in a dangerous situation.”

  His eyes dropped. “My best. But where did that get us? I had to finish sealing the spirit into that damned box. I did convince Dalilah to leave it with me, so I could keep it in the protective sphere. For the spirit’s protection and for ours.”

  He waved a hand. “But now what? Now I know who the spirit is. I can’t think of why Dalilah would have thought Anna was dangerous. And, even so, I can’t just keep a spirit locked up in isolation forever. That’s beyond cruel. And if I let Anna out, her essence could be wholly undone.”

  I held his gaze. “Unless we unseal the box properly.”

  He blinked in surprise. “Properly? But that would require …”

  His voice faded away.

  I nodded.

  I let the quiet grow.

  It had to be his decision. He had to be wholly on board for this. Because there was no way I could do it alone.

  I needed him.

  At last he sighed. “I owe you. I owe you everything. And if this is what it takes to balance the karmic scales, then I will do it.”

  Our glasses were empty.

  I nodded. I stood.

  He put down some money and walked me out through the front door.

  He took my hands in his.

  He shook his head. “I was so stupid. So young and stupid. I didn’t even understand what we had.”

  I gave a soft smile. “Youth is wasted on the young.”

  He put his hand gently behind my head.

  He drew me into a kiss.

  His kiss was soft, and gentle, and tender, and everything I could have possibly wanted. A younger version of me, even five years ago, would have celebrated this as the fairy-tale moment of our relationship. The moment where we renewed our love and moved in together and got married. Where life simply picked up where it had left off.

  But the kiss was just a kiss, and when he leaned back all I could see were Marc’s warm, brown eyes. Marc’s sturdy steadiness. Marc’s trustworthiness. No matter what happened, no matter what the risks, Marc would be there for me.

  The corner of Bryane’s mouth turned up. “You care for him that much, do you.”

  A blush heated my cheeks, but I nodded.

  He gave a soft smile. “I could see it, when we got together earlier. The way you looked at him. And the way he watched over you. He’s good for you, you know. Someone who will be there for you.”

  I nodded.

  He leaned forward and gently kissed me on my cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Amber. And we’ll take care of everything. I promise.”

  I nodded.

  He turned.

  He walked out into the cool evening, and with a turn, he was gone.

  * * *

  I should have been driving home. I should have been heading for my quiet apartment with Felix and my three small statuettes and my half a bottle of chardonnay. But instead I found my car steering toward Marc’s house. After all, I’d said I would text him when I got home to let him know I was all right. I might as well just drive there in
stead. I had to tell him what Bryane and I had talked about.

  Well, not all of it, of course. But the pertinent parts.

  That Dalilah had indeed tried to capture Anna and had bungled it. That Bryane had finished the job thinking that a dangerous spirit was involved. That we had a chance of undoing that damage during the ceremony tomorrow.

  I pulled around the corner and drew in across the street from the house –

  I stared in surprise.

  Marc was standing there on the porch. The very porch where I’d seen Alex and Roger kissing. At the time, I’d assumed Alex was cheating on Marc. I hadn’t realized that Alex and Roger were sister and brother. That what Alex was doing was perfectly fine.

  What was happening before me wasn’t perfectly fine.

  Wanda or Wilma or whatever her name was, the blonde trollop, was standing in the slinkiest crimson mini-dress I’d ever laid eyes on. Her heels must have been a full four inches high. Her hands were on either side of Mark’s head and her tongue was practically down his throat.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  I was transfixed, a statue, as the kiss went on for hours.

  At last she drew back and said something I couldn’t hear. From her body language and glances at the door it was clear that she wanted to go inside.

  He was calm and quiet. They had a short conversation.

  She gave his arm a squeeze. Then she sauntered off to her car and climbed in. She gave him a cheery wave and drove off.

  My hands tightened on the steering wheel. If that two-timing, no-good, slime-infested man thought he was going to –

  Marc looked right at me.

  The corners of his mouth turned up.

  He gently waved me over.

  * * *

  I was sitting on the living room couch, stewing. The left-over cheese platter from earlier was before me. Marc brought over a pair of simple wine glasses of cabernet and handed me one. I downed half of it in one gulp. It made a solid thunk as I put it down on the coaster.

  I rounded on him. “If you think I’m just going to sit here when –”

  “You asked me to trust you.”

  I blinked at him in surprise. That wasn’t at all what I expected him to say. “Well, yes,” I agreed. “But that was because –”

  I thought of my evening. I thought of how it ended.

  I closed my mouth.

  He nodded. “And just how was Bryane?”

  “How did you know I was going out with Bryane?”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  I sighed.

  I knew better than to ask that question.

  His tone was calm. “So, what did you learn?”

  I took another drink, forcing myself to settle down. And I began.

  I started from the very beginning, when Bryane met me at the door, and went over every moment step by step. I might be a keen observer, but Marc was a cop. Undoubtedly he’d be able to read hidden meanings out of words or looks.

  I should have blushed when I got to the parts about our teenage relationship, but somehow I was comfortable talking with Marc about them. About anything. I had the sense that he accepted me for who I was. No pretense. No subterfuge.

  Finally I was done, and our wine glasses were empty. I’d eaten half the gouda. Mark refilled the glasses without comment and turned the platter around to give us easier access. “Do you have any other thoughts on your evening?”

  I pondered that, nibbling a piece of cheese. Alex really did have good taste with her hors d’oeuvres. I waved a hand at the wall décor.

  “I know Bryane is a marketing machine now, but I still think he is a decent person in there. He was honestly traumatized by what he had to do to Anna, and it’s been eating away at him. I think he’ll be relieved to help us release her tomorrow night.”

  “And you think it can be done safely?”

  I gave a soft shrug. “If anybody can pull it off, it’ll be Bryane. It’s a full moon, after all. And he’s the strongest paranormal expert I know. Besides, I’ll be there. You’ll be there. Our combined strengths should be able to catch and guide Anna. To ease her through the transition.”

  He nodded.

  Despite my best intentions, irritation rose within me. “And now it’s your turn. With the Samantha Clone.” I shook my head. “What is it with you and these blonde women? Can they just not keep their hands off of you?”

  He held my eyes, his gaze lighting with mirth. “Says the woman who was just necking with her high school sweetheart.”

  “Necking?” My voice rose. “Necking!? I’ll have you know –”

  He put his hands up in surrender. “All right, all right. In any case, I had a sense Wilma might accept a call from me for drinks.”

  I shot, “At ten o’clock at night. With no notice.”

  He held my gaze.

  I settled myself down. “All right, then. So she did. What did you learn?”

  “It took quite a lot of circling around the topic, and building her trust, but at last I got an inference from her that she had, in fact, managed to lure Sarah into a box. Somehow she made Sarah think that Anna was inside, so that Sarah would want to go in and rescue her sister. Once Sarah had made that mistake, the box was sealed tight.”

  Coldness shimmered through me. I had figured that had been the case. Still, to hear it stated like that filled me with dread.

  “But she’s all right? Sarah, I mean?”

  Marc nodded. “As far as Wilma knows. A dybbuk box isn’t meant to directly harm the spirit in any way. It’s not an Iron Maiden. It is just a containment shield.” His gaze shadowed. “The problem is that the mere act of containment is in and of itself a form of torture. Just as putting a human into a sensory deprivation box for days on end is torture.”

  “Did you manage to find out where she’s keeping her dybbuk box?”

  His gaze twinkled.

  The annoyance swept back through me again. “Of course you did.”

  “It’s in her office, in the safe. Luckily, Bryane knows the combination to it. In case of emergency and all.

  My ire eased. Marc had done this for the same reason I had. To save Sarah and Anna. To figure out what the Hell was going on here.

  I sighed. “I’m sorry. I just –”

  He tenderly swept my hair back from my face. “You don’t have to explain.”

  Suddenly, I realized I didn’t.

  I leaned forward.

  His kiss was gentle, and rich, and everything I could have ever hoped for from a man. From a life partner. From someone I could depend on with my life.

  It was a long time before we separated. Before he said, his voice hoarse, “You should go home.”

  It was hard to nod.

  It was hard to stand.

  It was hard to walk out the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Mark and I were on my parents’ boat. Rain was spitting down on us, and we were both in bright yellow rain gear with the hoods pulled up. Mark was peering into the dense fog, navigating our way back home again. I clung close to him, knowing not to disturb him. My own gaze was sweeping the path before us, adding another pair of eyes to the search.

  He said, “The buoys are here somewhere. We just have to find them.”

  “Just a bit further,” I prayed. “We’ve got to be close.”

  He glanced at me. “I shouldn’t have taken you out with me. I should have had you stay home. You’re in danger now, and it’s all because of me.”

  I shook my head. “We’re going to tackle this together. You and me. We’ll figure a way out of it.”

  His gaze held mine with worry. “I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you. You know that.”

  I nodded. “I know that.”

  A noise came, and he looked up.

  A horrifically massive wave loomed over us, coming out of nowhere. The glistening curls of froth twisted with menace. It was descending - descending –

  It slammed into the boat with the force of a thousand hammers.


  Marc dove over me, shielding me with his body, as a railing came loose –

  It smashed hard into his skull.

  He fell back, completely limp.

  I screamed in panic, “Marc! Marc!”

  * * *

  I sprang awake, drenched in sweat, and grabbed up my phone. Felix grumped as my motion pushed him aside.

  2:30am.

  I hesitated – hesitated –

  I pressed the phone’s on button. Clicked the icon for Marc’s cell. He’d made sure we had each other’s numbers programmed before we separated late last night.

  It rang … rang … rang …

  Voicemail picked up. “You’ve reached the number …”

  I disconnected the call, my panic rising. Sure, it could just be that he was sleeping soundly. But I had a feeling that Marc wasn’t the type of man who slept through a ringing phone. I had a feeling that he was the type who woke on the first ring and even sounded coherent when he picked it up.

  I looked at Felix. “You stay here. Stay safe.”

  He blinked those large, green eyes at me.

  I climbed out of bed and tossed on a t-shirt and sweats. Then I went to the dresser. I put my hand on the statues of my father, my mother, and my aunt. I whispered a silent prayer that they would watch over me.

  And then I headed out.

  I tried Marc three times more on the drive over. Same result. No answer. Rolled over to voice mail. By the time I pulled up in front of the house my nerves were in a full jangle. I kept my phone in my hand as I walked up the path to the front door.

  I knocked. Loudly.

  Waited.

  Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even a dog barking from down the street or a car passing by. It was as if I were in a Twilight Zone movie.

  I hammered again, more loudly. If I woke a neighbor, I’d deal with the grief.

  Nothing.

  I tried the door itself.

  It was locked.

  Now my nerves were twisting throughout me. I moved around the side of the house, peering through the windows. Even with the nearly full moonlight, I couldn’t see much in there, but I didn’t see any bodies slumped on the floor.