“Those people were hagged?” I asked. I’d seen a documentary about the group of people who had moved here after the Vietnam War and began to die in their sleep. Doctors had called it Sudden Unexplained Nocturnal Death Syndrome—or SUNDS—since they couldn’t find any reason for the deaths. Quite a few of them had complained about strange happenings in the night.
He shrugged. “That’s the word on the street.”
I groaned. “Do you guys really have a street?” I held up my hand. “Never mind. Don’t want to know that, either. Jeez, aren’t you guys worried that sharing too much info with me is going to screw up my own afterlife?”
“No.” They both said simultaneously.
“Thanks for caring.” I slid my shaky legs off the bed and stood. Waiting a second to make sure I didn’t keel over, I nodded my head toward the door. “I’m going to get something to drink.”
I stumbled into Elsa’s kitchen and poured a glass of milk. It was my comfort thing. That or coffee, and coffee at—I glanced at the clock—two in the morning was never a good idea. Not unless I wanted to—like—clean or something.
I looked at Fred, who stood like a good little boy in the doorway. “So, this hagging is actually a spirit sitting on my chest?”
Fred nodded. “A hostile one.”
I needed more sleep. “I’m so sick of angry dead things.”
Phro appeared in the chair next to me, casually eyeballing the state of her nails. She’d painted them a nice shiny black. Probably to go with the piercings. I could see another new piercing through the thin material of her…I don’t know what you’d call this outfit. A pink cat suit maybe? Whatever it was, it was ugly and it did nothing to hide the circular nipple ring pushing through. Why would a spirit need a nipple ring?
“Can’t really blame them,” Fred said. “Humans especially. From the time they’re born they’re told ‘You’d better do this or you’ll be tortured throughout eternity.’ It’s a wonder any of them ever get up enough to courage to face death and truly cross over.”
“So why did you come back here if you hate it so much?”
He usually blew this question off when I asked. This time he shrugged. “I’m a guide. It’s a choice. It was either that or end up in the library.” He shuddered. “Scholar, I’m not.”
Phro snorted. “That’s no lie.”
I wished I could smack her. “Be nice.”
“What?” She blinked innocently.
“So why do you think this thing hagged me? Now?”
“Who knows?” Fred asked. “I doubt it was random, though. Too coincidental.”
“It would be my guess that someone or something doesn’t want Beri going any further in this.”
“You think something powerful sicced a hostile spirit on me?”
They both nodded.
“I wish I hadn’t asked that question.” I meant it. I took a long swallow of cold milk, then said to heck with it and got up to make a pot of coffee. I wasn’t going back to sleep any time soon. Just the thought of lying in that bed and hearing that sandpaper sliding sound again gave me the heebie-jeebies.
“Do you guys have any idea how frustrating this is? Here you are with all this knowledge of the afterlife yet you have very few answers.” I slammed a filter into the coffee unit and put eight huge tablespoons of bold, black grounds into it. I wanted the extra kick. Who was I kidding? I needed it.
Phro put her feet on the chair across from her. She didn’t often pull energy from the world around her to interact with physical objects here, so I was surprised when she ran her palms over the smooth wood of the table. “We’re just as frustrated as you are.”
I paused next to the sink, coffee pot dangling from one hand. “Yeah, you look it.”
“Looks are deceiving.”
“Really. You know what else is? You’re really a fucking goddess! Aphrodite? I thought you were joking. Damn.” I set down the pot before I broke it. “I can’t believe this. You’re some sort of goddess—wait, the Goddess of Love, no less and you can’t just… I don’t know—spread some of the good stuff around or something?”
Fred snorted. “Good stuff?”
I rounded on him, lifted my finger to point. “You shut up. I mean it. You keep disappearing without telling us where and you’re not sharing everything either. I can tell.”
His mouth snapped shut.
“Why am I stuck with two—two—spirit guides who can’t guide? You just hang around and do what? What’s your purpose? What—”
Phro broke in. “What’s yours?”
My mouth opened and closed several times. Good question. I was here, in this world, for some reason. I was different for some reason.
It was too much.
I was tired, scared for my sister and I was taking it out on my spirit guides. Yeah, it was frustrating that they didn’t have answers, but it wasn’t their fault. I turned and picked up the coffee pot, calmly filled it with water and slowly poured it into the unit.
Then I leaned forward and rested my forehead on a cabinet. Surprisingly, my arm and leg felt better. Seems Blythe’s agrimony had done the trick. Wished it would have helped with this exhaustion. “Right now, all I need to worry about is keeping Elsa safe. That’s it.”
Fred moved until he stood by my shoulder. “I asked for extra help with her. It was the only thing I could think to do.”
“Thanks. Phro, tell me why you looked so scared when you saw Nikolos.” I straightened away from the cabinet and leaned my hip on the counter. “You knew him, didn’t you?”
She nodded. “He’s really old.”
“Funny. He doesn’t look it.”
“He was alive when I still lived on Mount Olympus—a warrior from Crete. Famous.”
“Crete?” I remembered his mention of an island. No, surely not. “Phro, that would make him thousands of years old. He didn’t act like a vampire. Doesn’t look like an elf… how could he be that old?” I narrowed my eyes. “That doesn’t explain your fear. I saw it in that hospital, Phro—you were terrified. Why?”
“Nikolos was famous for massacring an entire village.”
That gave me pause. It could explain the mass of trapped souls. Crossing my arms over my stomach, I stared at Phro. “You’re a goddess. I’m fairly sure I remember stories of similar happenings from your people.”
She shot me a glare. “You wanna hear this, don’t insult my ‘people.’”
Again, I wished I could physically do damage to her. “What about this particular massacre got to you? Were they special people?”
“It was bloodthirsty—even from a god’s perspective. But supposedly he killed King Idomeneus of Crete.”
I had to think for a minute. “From The Iliad? The one who later disappeared?”
She curled her lip. “Don’t you know that whenever they use the term ’disappeared’ it’s a cover-up?”
“So why would his killing a human king scare you?”
“King Idomeneus wasn’t a human. It was a closely guarded secret. He shouldn’t have been easy to kill because he was a god.”
“Oh.” I swallowed. I turned, got myself a cup of coffee and held it to my face to breathe in the familiar, comforting scent. A human man, even a famed warrior, shouldn’t have been able to take out a god. They were the ultimate in immortals. Vampires, elves, other immortals I’d run across—they could all be killed at some point. Human souls lived on to experience other lives but gods and goddesses never changed. They may have moved into the background, bored by humans—they may have moved on to some other entertainment, but they were still there.
As I took my first sip of the hot, strong brew, someone started pounding on the front door. We all jumped. The noise reverberated throughout the house—completely out of place in the early morning hours.
I ran into the front room and heard Blythe’s loud sobs through the door. I threw it open to find her swaying on her feet, her peach dress ripped, more fresh blood on her arms and chest. She hiccoughed and fell over the
threshold. I caught her, carried her into the living room and laid her on the couch. “Blythe!” I had to yell over her loud crying. “Hey, why didn’t you go to the hospital? Where are you hurt? Who did this?”
She sobbed. “Fr”—sobbed again—“Frida.”
Shock knocked me back, my ass hitting the coffee table with a sharp thud. “Your spirit guide did this to you?”
“No,” she wailed, crying harder.
She was making too much noise to be in serious danger. I looked her over to find mostly superficial scratches. Looked like she’d fought a rabid cat. “Shhh.” I didn’t know how to calm her so I awkwardly stroked her hair. Anything to get that noise down.
It worked—startled her into sucking in air and choking on it. She sat up, hacking. I patted her back. When she winced I realized it hadn’t exactly been a pat. Oops.
“Can you tell me what happened now? Where’s Frida?”
“You can’t see her either?”
“I didn’t think you could.”
She shook her head. “I can’t, but now I can’t feel her either. I’m so scared.” Her breath hitched, big eyes so watery they looked like they’d float off her face.
I looked around, not seeing him. I was about to send Fred looking when I picked up on the horrified expressions on both of my guides’ faces. I followed their gaze to find a faint presence next to the door. I slowly got up and walked to the shimmering piece of space. Squinted. Then, I pulled up that part of myself that made me the most different. The part I didn’t yet get. The part that felt and saw so very much more than everyone else. I peeled back this dimension to take a good look at that faint apparition. It was Frida. He looked like he’d been mauled by the rabid cat, only a much bigger version. But he was there. So weak he blinked in and out, but on the ‘in’ parts, he actually seemed in pain.
I swung toward Fred, swallowing the question on my lips when he shook his head.
“Impossible,” he muttered.
I couldn’t help Frida, but I could put some antiseptic on Blythe’s arms. I went into the kitchen where we’d left the first aid kit. At this rate, we’d need a bigger one. I picked up the leftover liquid from the agrimony bath and shrugged before popping it into the microwave. Probably not the best way to warm a spell.
She’d calmed down when I returned, her eyes on the shimmering corner where Frida lay. “It came through the window of my magic shop, Beri. I went to get that book. I think Nikolos will help if he sees the book.”
“What came through the window?”
She swallowed and I wiped at a spot of blood on her hand, cleaned the small scratches. “I think it was me.”
I stopped. “Huh?”
“I came through the window and attacked myself.”
I bit my lip, glancing at Phro and Fred who both looked as confused as I felt.
She started crying again. Great. “Blythe, you have to calm down. I mean it. This isn’t the time to lose it. What do you mean you attacked yourself?”
“My spirit. I think it was my spirit. It wasn’t attached. How could it not be attached? I still felt like me—still feel like me. But it looked like me and it had claws and it scratched me before Frida jumped in front and fought it off me.”
“Blythe, that’s just not possible. If it physically made these scratches, it was in your plane. Here in this realm, not the next. Frida can’t fight in this world. He—um—she can shove energy, add strength to other spirits to possibly do damage, but not fight.”
“But she…” Blythe suddenly broke off and glanced at the spot where I knew Frida sat slumped against the wall. “He did. The other me was in both planes and Fri-he fought it.”
I looked at him when she switched pronouns. He shimmered solid for an instant, his eyes narrowed and on Blythe’s face.
“You see him, don’t you?” I asked her, still watching him.
I heard her take a deep breath then whisper, “Beri, I don’t think his name is Frida.”
Chapter Seven
The little witch had spunk. Had to give her that. I expected her to jump at my offer to stay at Elsa’s while I checked out her magic shop, but she’d wanted to come. Now she sat, unnaturally quiet, in the passenger seat of my Jeep. I bit back a grin. She’d said she needed to come along to show me where it was, but I had a feeling Blythe was too scared to stay by herself. Not that I blamed her.
It’s not every day a person is attacked by her doppelganger.
Funny creature, Blythe. She started fires, had a particularly well-developed habit of pissing people off, but she did seem sincere in her desire to help. And—okay—she’d really come through with that demon. I was still impressed.
I’d thrown on clean jeans, my boots, and loaned Blythe one of Elsa’s sweat suits. It boxed her like a huge, wrinkled pair of pajamas, gathering heavily at the wrists and ankles. She looked like a startled, blonde Shar Pei, but I wasn’t sharing that fact. Poor thing had been through enough tonight.
I probably should have waited to look at her shop, but I wanted to be on the scene while it was relatively fresh. Besides, I had this internal clock ticking like mad. Every minute that Elsa lay there helpless brought her that much closer to the demons. Cold fear tightened my chest and I stepped on the gas pedal.
The Jeep shot through a red traffic light.
Blythe reached out to steady herself on the dashboard before shoving up one of the sleeves. At least the sweat suit covered most of the scratches. She had the kind of seriously pale skin that made the angry red lines stand out like a sadistic and unskilled tattoo artist had gotten his needles on her. She still had several showing on her neck and across her left cheek. They flashed a dark, bloody crimson whenever the streetlights blinked into the car. The wounds didn’t seem to bother her as they had Nikolos and me. But then, they weren’t demon-inflicted.
I think.
“Okay, you said that ‘you’ came through the window of the shop and attacked. Do you mean something like your reflection? Nikolos talked about reflections.”
She sniffed and opened my glove box. My eyebrow went up.
Her cheeks turned pink when she glanced at me. “Sorry. I need a tissue and that’s where I keep mine in Eunice.” She sniffed again and used a sleeve instead.
I decided not to even think about why she named her yellow Bug Eunice. “Blythe, are you crying?”
She shook her head. “No, something’s bothering my sinuses. It’s probably the antiseptic you put on my scratches. I don’t usually use anything that isn’t organic.”
Alcohol was organic—my kind of organic—but since I didn’t feel like having that discussion with the witch, I sped up the Jeep, turning down a narrow back street after she pointed. “I’m working on the theory that whatever got my sister came through her mirror. So did you see your reflection before you attacked yourself?”
“That just doesn’t sound right.” She wiped her sleeve on her pants.
“Is there a part of this—any of this—that does?” I looked at the wounds on Blythe’s face again. “My sister wasn’t beat all to hell, like you. She only had that one wound. Plus, she was in her car when they found her…how did she end up there?”
“I don’t know.” She aimed her finger at another upcoming street. The grey sleeve slumped over her hand and Blythe growled. She actually growled.
I turned my head to the window so she wouldn’t see my grin. That earlier Shar Pei image flashed through my mind again. Pursing my lips, I flipped on my left blinker. “I know you don’t know how my sister ended up in her car. I like to work things out aloud sometimes. Better get used to it.” I turned the Jeep again. It was freaky quiet on the streets this time of night. Glancing at the clock on my dash, I saw that only an hour had passed since I’d looked at the one in Elsa’s kitchen. Three a.m.
The hair on the back of my neck stood and I felt something sit softly upon my skin—similar to that breeze of evil I’d felt earlier, only this time it clung like static. I sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. Looking i
n the mirror, I tried to see if any of our guides were paying attention, but all I saw was Fred staring at the ceiling of the Jeep, Frida sleeping and Phro…well, she was either popping imaginary gum bubbles or playing fish. I didn’t know—didn’t want to. Phro had her odd moments.
None of the guides were reacting to the strange feeling in the air, so it had to be just me. I took one hand off the steering wheel and pushed my hair behind my ear. I’d left the hat off since it was too late at night to worry about it. I looked at the clock again. Something about three. “Blythe, help me a second. The number three has a lot of significance, right?
“Sure. Body, soul and spirit. Birth, life and death. It represents the whole in numerology.”
I nodded. “And it’s the first geometrical figure…” We were onto something here. I didn’t know what, though. “Beginning, middle and end. And there is that whole threefold rule in your craft.”
“It’s our most basic principle. Cause harm and it will return to you threefold.” She sneezed.
“Gesundheit,” I said automatically as I brought up the image of that soul design on Elsa’s mirror. The circle had been filled with three perpendicular lines.
“Why are you asking about three?” Blythe fiddled with her door handle.
“Something’s hovering at the edge of my mind but I can’t catch it. We need to do some research.” I tapped the fingers of my right hand on the wheel.
“I have a computer at my shop—with cable access.”
“Good. We can look up the soul images Nikolos told me about, too. Did you see a circular decoration on the glass of your shop before you were attacked?”
“There was something. I didn’t stick around long enough to look at it.” She wrung her hands and squirmed on the seat. Some rose-scented perfume wafted over the sharp smell of the antiseptic. At least the Jeep still didn’t have that demon stink from earlier—though a hint of sourness remained.
“Beri, I feel different. And I can uh, see things.” She looked nervously into the back seat. I should have been more surprised that she could see the guides now, but I’d known it would happen sooner or later as soon as I’d seen her flinch that very first time in front of Elsa’s house.
Dweller on the Threshold Page 10
