The Deadening

by Yvonne Heidt

  A scene formed behind her eyes. A young girl sat on the edge of a small bed with no sheets, with a worn black guitar in her lap. Raven couldn’t see her face, because a shock of unkempt dark hair covered everything except her mouth, and Lacey was biting her lower lip while she concentrated on stretching her fingers to play the chords. Her other hand picked at the strings, and Raven easily recognized the haunting intro to “Stairway to Heaven.” She was duly impressed. She had so much talent for such a young girl, and Raven felt the notes as if they were Lacey’s emotions flowing through the music and straight into her soul.

  It was a breathtaking moment.

  Without warning, Raven was forcefully drawn forward in time to see Lacey climbing in the car again. “We don’t have to go there.”

  Shade didn’t answer. Instead, she placed a steady image into Raven’s mind. She saw the battered case in the backseat covered in rags. No, not rags—Lacey’s torn clothes. She heard the drumming of rain on the metal roof, and a scream. “No, Shade. Not here, please. We can’t stop this. We have to go forward.”

  In a flash of bright orange, Raven realized Shade had taken over this trip. They flew toward a porch, through a busted door, to the end of a hallway where they stopped in front of a door. The frame was crooked, and light poured into the dark and dingy hall from underneath the crack.

  People laughed and talked in a room somewhere behind her, but under that noise, she heard a small splash and quiet sobs that held such anguish and sorrow, she didn’t know if she could go in and face it.

  Her illusion flicked on and off with sharp, snapping sounds. The unexpected dead spot took her by surprise, and before she could fix it, she was sucked under the door and into the bathroom. Raven was no longer an observer. Now she was trapped in Shade’s mind and staring out of Lacey’s swollen eyes.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It seemed to Shade that one second she was aware of being in a semi-hypnotic state, and the next she was back in her eight-year-old body. Through the shock and trauma, she realized she was speaking with her dead father.

  She was conscious of a rhythmic beating sound. She could remember at the time she’d been a child, and she’d thought it had been her own beating heart. It was an eerie déjà vu, and it chilled her.

  Whoosh-whoosh.

  The rhythm grew louder, more urgent, and then she heard her name.

  Shade!

  Raven. Shade had drawn her straight into her personal nightmare. Fucking great.

  She reached for Raven in her mind to soothe her, and listened to Lacey’s conversation with her father’s ghost. At any moment, her father was going to tell her he wasn’t an angel come to take her to heaven.

  Shade felt as if her father looked deep into Lacey’s soul and saw her hiding.

  Baby, the only way out is through.

  The shock rushed through Shade’s body, blending with Lacey’s astonishment over seeing a dead man, and she was left dizzy from the impact.

  Raven was quiet in the background of Shade’s thoughts.

  The moment hung suspended in time, and it was clear as newly spun glass.

  This was the minute Lacey retreated and Shade was born. It was a child’s solution for dealing with the impact of the agonizing rip to her soul.

  Her father smiled at her, ran a gentle hand over Lacey’s hair, and whispered he’d be back when Shade needed him the most.

  He stood straight in the small room, looking as if he were waiting or expecting something. Shade was pulled out of Lacey amidst a kaleidoscope of colors and stood in front of him. She quickly glanced back at Lacey, who was still in the tub, but her eyes were closed, and beneath the bruises, she looked almost peaceful.

  Shade startled when Raven took her hand and stepped up next to her. She watched her extend her other hand toward her father and lay it on his shoulder. The pull of energy Raven was using caused the visible gunshot to close, and his shattered ribs knit themselves back together.

  “Thank you. Again.”

  “Again?” What was going on now? “What are you saying?”

  Her father kissed Raven on the cheek, then Shade. “She’ll explain later.” He turned toward the outside wall. “And, Shade? Before I go, I want to ask a favor, okay?”

  “Huh?” Shade was beyond confused. She poked her finger at him and met solid flesh. Everything felt so real, yet she knew it wasn’t. She let down her guard anyway, lifted her arms, and hugged her father close.

  “Take care of my little girl, please.” The whisper in her ear brought back all the love she’d felt from him when she was in the coma. The emotion was still there, and now Shade realized it wouldn’t leave her. She could access the feeling when she wanted to.

  He held her for a minute, and then drew back to smile at her. She realized he was younger than she was now when he died. He was quite handsome.

  “What?” Her father laughed. “You thought you got your superior looks from her?”

  “Nah.” Shade winked at him. She felt considerably lighter. “Clearly, it was you who gave me the sexy gene.”

  “I have to go now, kid. See you around.”

  “Later, Dad.”

  Shade watched him fade gradually until she was simply staring at a moldy wall in her old, childhood home.

  Shade turned back to find Raven crying. “We have to take care of her. We can’t leave her—you—like this.”

  “I know.” Shade picked up the rag masquerading as a washcloth and gently wiped Lacey’s face while she thought of the questions to ask Raven.

  Before she spoke, Raven started talking. “I didn’t know the details, or remember them anyway. I just knew when I met you for the first time, you were mine. I only had the feelings, not the story. This was buried somewhere in my consciousness, knowing I was connected to you.”

  The moment felt surreal, and Shade felt both lost and safe. “I remember hearing birds flying in my mind at different times in my life. That sound started here, on this night. I never knew what they meant. I couldn’t have known you then; you hadn’t even been born yet. God, it’s too much to comprehend. I don’t even know if I can.”

  “There’s time for that later,” Raven said. “Right now, we’re going to help her.”

  “It hurts to look.” Faced with the most traumatic event in her life, and the otherworldly circumstances, she didn’t see any reason to be anything less than honest with Raven.

  Apparently, they’d done this once before. It was mind boggling.

  “She needs us right now.”

  Shade heard a crash outside the bathroom door, and she was nearly overcome with dread and rage for the woman she knew was standing outside it.

  “No, Shade. This is about her, and we have to do this with love.” Raven pushed the emotion toward her, and Shade had to choose. She could continue with fury, or accept the love. She couldn’t have both because one couldn’t live with the other.

  “Choose.” Raven’s eyes pleaded with her as she held out her hand.

  “Choose, necromancer,” Phaedra screamed in her mind. With a vicious start, Shade realized Phaedra was only in her mind, also born in this bathroom twenty-five years ago.

  The enormity of the situation flooded through her, and brought with it the realization that the last time she made this choice, she had chosen wrath over love.

  Her life flashed in images, every slight, fight, bad choice, and horrific consequence she’d faced over the years came back to this second.

  This choice.

  Phaedra laughed and held out her hand. She had a smug look on her face, appearing to have no doubt in her mind Shade would take it again.

  “Fuck that.”

  Shade lunged sideways to put her arm around Raven and protect Lacey from what she could, had, become.

  When she made contact, a ribbon of blue and green energy wrapped around them, and they were pulled back into the night.

  Shade felt only the slightest impact when they stopped. She found herself on a deserted white sand beach. Raven’s
soft voice whispered in her ear, and she knew she wasn’t alone.

  “Close your eyes and listen to the waves. The sand is warm between your toes, and the sun feels amazing on your face. Do you feel it?”

  Shade paused. “Yes.”

  “Good,” Raven continued. “The water draws you closer, and with each step, that memory, that life, gets left behind. You have no worries, no stress, and a light breeze blows through your hair. You feel like smiling as you walk along the shore’s edge. The water tickles your feet as it races back to the sea. Can you feel it?”

  Shade inhaled deeply. “Yes, and I can smell the salt in the air.” The repetitive sound of the waves was hypnotic and soothing. Shade felt wonderful.

  “Excellent. Now, in the distance you see a small girl sitting alone in the sand. As you approach, you can see she’s crying. Compassion fills your heart for this little child, and you sit next to her in the sand to hold her tiny hand. You recognize her. She is you. Only you can give her the love she was denied.”

  Shade was deep inside the meditation, but in the background she was also aware of her physical body, and the way her eyes filled with burning tears for the child she’d been.

  “You wrap your arms around her, and rock with her in the warm, white sugar sand, and the waves roll gently in front of you. She is you—and you have the power to heal her.”

  Sharp pains in her chest nearly took Shade back to the waking world, but she fought to stay on the beach with Lacey. She would gladly take her pain away, but now she felt it in stereo, in both her dream self, and her body on the bed so far away. She took the dual agony into herself and let her adult heart break in two for both of them.

  “Shade. There’s more, honey. Stay with me now.” Raven brought her back to the sand.

  “Listen, you are her. Small arms hug you back. She has the power to heal you. Hold her close, smell her hair, the skin on the back of her neck. This is the scent of love and compassion.”

  “She is you, and you are her. Wipe her tears as she wipes yours. Promise to honor her, and tell her that she is free now.”

  “She is loved. You are loved.”

  “The sun is setting, and you both feel serene and peaceful. This is where you will find each other when there is a need. Now, hold her tightly and tell her again how very much she is loved, and hear her tell you. You feel her growing smaller, lighter, and smaller still—until you can hold her in the palm of your hand. Do you see her? She is smiling and full of happy joy.”

  Shade couldn’t answer, even telepathically; her throat was closed with emotion. She could see, really see, Lacey in her hand.

  “Carefully, and oh so tenderly, place your palm over your heart, and place Lacey inside it. Can you hear her laugh gently as she safely curls up to rest?”

  “She will never leave you. She is yours to love. You are never alone—she lives in your heart. She is you, you are her, and together—you are one.”

  “Whole.”

  *

  Raven was jolted awake, and she wasn’t sure where she was. She was on her side, and the clock read 4:44. Oh, she thought, okay. Their journey returned to her in pieces, and now she was back in bed. She felt Shade’s absence. The warmth of her body and the tight grip she’d been in was missing.

  She was exhausted, but she wanted to find her. Good Lord, that was intense. But at least they both had answers to questions that had haunted each of them.

  She tried to lift the sheet draped over her and found she couldn’t move her arms. She tried to call out for Shade, but her mouth wouldn’t open, and no sound came from her throat.

  The bed shifted and Shade curled up against Raven’s back. “Little breath,” she whispered. “That’s it.”

  Raven felt a small amount of air enter her dry lungs.

  “Another one. Don’t panic. It’s okay. I’m here.” Shade rubbed between her shoulder blades in a tight, circular motion, and Raven felt the tightness in her lungs recede.

  She repeated the process until gradually, she could take a full breath.

  “Better?” Shade asked.

  Raven nodded. Shade’s breath tickled along the outside of her ear, and Raven felt goose bumps rise along her neck in its wake. Tears burned the corner of her eyes, and she realized it had been a long time since she’d been held, and it felt wonderful.

  She’d been strong and steady since the bombing, and the pressure she kept herself under eased up just a tiny bit as she let Shade comfort her.

  “We were gone a long time,” Shade said. “Do you need to throw up?”

  “No,” Raven said. That was why her body had seized up, why she couldn’t breathe when she woke. That much time spent in the astral territory was hard on the physical body. Shade played with her hair, and she smiled to herself. “I am thirsty though, and too tired to go and get something.”

  “Already got it,” Shade said. “I knew we’d need it.”

  Raven squealed when the cold bottle was pressed against her neck. She grabbed it and turned over, scooting up to sit against the headboard.

  Shade laughed. “You should see the look on your face!”

  Raven glared at her, but inside, she was happy to hear the amusement, the laughter that rolled up from her belly. It was genuine and real, and Raven would do it all over again to hear it.

  “Seriously,” Shade said. “Where the hell did you learn how to do that?” She turned on her side to face Raven and rested her head in her hand.

  Raven leaned back and took another long drink. “The first time I did was an accident. I fell asleep in the chair next to your bed, and it just happened. That was when I pulled you out of the river.”

  “Holy sh—”

  Raven interrupted. “When I was little, I apprenticed with my tia Delores. Her gift is dream walking and she uses the inner-child script to heal women who have been traumatized as children.” She nostalgically remembered the smells and sounds of her tia’s kitchen. “Most times, the women were joyful afterward. If not, they were sent to my tia Reina, who could tell whether or not a dark spirit was involved.”

  “How many aunts, uncles, and cousins, do you have?” Shade asked.

  Raven smiled. “We are legion.” She considered everything she’d learned up to this point had been to help Shade, and Lacey, the girl she’d once been.

  “Maybe it was an accident. The first time, I mean.”

  “Your father clearly said we’d done this before.” Questions bombarded her until Raven gave up. “It’s like I can completely grasp the concept that time is circular for a few seconds, and can travel any direction we choose…”

  “Then it slips away and you feel more confused?” Shade finished her sentence.

  “Exactly,” Raven said and slid down the bed to mirror her pose. Shade’s eyes were deep with emotion, lacking any of her previous wariness.

  “Raven?”

  “What?”

  “How come I didn’t know you could see the dead?”

  “Really? You don’t remember?”

  “Am I supposed to?”

  “Maybe not. You were pretty loaded that night.”

  “I’m sorry,” Shade said and covered her eyes.

  Raven removed her hand and held it down between them on the bed. “When I came over on the second night, not the first—I was pretty tipsy that night, too. Anyway, I asked you who it was lurking in the corner.”

  “Oh, God,” Shade said. “Travis, the dead drug dealer.”

  “But I haven’t seen him since. Did you help him cross over after that night?”

  Shade blinked. “Um, no. I think I completely obliterated him.”

  “Come again?” Raven didn’t want to think of the possible backlash from that stunt.

  “He was watching us, and made smartass comments about you, none of which I’ll repeat.” A hard glint appeared in Shade’s eyes.

  “You were jealous?”

  “Yeah, well.” Shade turned onto her back. “He pissed me off.”

  It was a horrible th
ing to do, yet Raven couldn’t help but be flattered a little bit. She didn’t know what else to say, and right now, she was tired. She blinked, her eyes stayed closed, and the silence stretched.

  She didn’t know how much time had passed, but she heard the drawer of the nightstand open, the sound of pills in a bottle, and the drawer closed.

  She didn’t have the strength to ask about it, but she knew that Shade had been overmedicating because Raven had counted what was left of the prescription earlier.. Couldn’t she relax for one freaking night without worry? Was that too much to ask? It was yet another conversation they had to have. When she could drum up the energy to do so.

  Her mother’s warning continued to ring in her mind as well.

  “Never tangle with a necromancer, mija. They walk a hard life with one foot here, in this world, and the other in the land of the dead. Nothing but darkness surrounds them. Heartache is a way of life, and no one ever loves them enough to stay.”

  Right this minute, Raven was scared that she might be right. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her, but that loving her was draining. She didn’t feel as if she had anything left to give, and there always seemed to be another hurdle.

  *

  Shade watched Raven fall asleep. Sometime in the interim of their astral trip and their return, Shade had regained the ability to read her thoughts. When she heard Raven’s last words before she fell asleep, she wanted to justify leaving again, she really did. She hated being the one people thought of as broken.

  The first to wake up, she’d felt super energized and used the momentum to fetch the water Raven would need. She wanted to be able to help her over the lag being gone so long produced.

  The psychic weight of depression was gone. She had no measuring stick, no point of reference of what normality should feel like. Somehow, she felt more of what she’d been. Had her childhood trauma kept a part of her soul trapped in that bathtub? Was that why she felt more present? What was life going to feel like without the burdens she’d held for so long? Would she be able to live and love like a normal person? Could she accept Raven into her life without worrying about her safety?