Renovation

by Alexie Aaron

  Judy drew her into a hug. “Remember, you enjoyed yourself, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “And your husband enjoyed himself?”

  “Oh yes, he did. But what about the heartbeat?”

  “It was the judge. He was warming you up to the idea of being a parent.”

  “But Sabine says she felt the same thing, and Bev.”

  “It’s possible with you sensitives, so let’s leave it as a possibility,” Judy suggested. “Do you want to know the sex?”

  “Yes.”

  “Me too. But I can’t tell anything yet. All I can tell you is, you are pregnant. You’re going to heal from this entity attack. The baby was not harmed. You are, however, going to have to make some adjustments to your diet.”

  Mia groaned.

  “Ho Hos are not a food group,” Judy said. “Too much coffee is bad. Too much of anything is bad. You need to have proper sleep. You and Ted can still make love, but avoid the carpet, tables, rooftops, and stick to the bedroom.”

  “Rooftops, who makes love on the… Oh, you dirty bird you,” Mia teased.

  “Knock knock,” Ted said, sticking his head in the door. “Cid says he’s got to get you back soon. You have some kind of an appointment?”

  “Yes, I do. A date with Ed,” she explained. Judy looked down at Mia. “Call me anytime. If you want to give birth at home, I’ll be your midwife.”

  “Nope, were going to the hospital,” Ted insisted. “With dozens of doctors and hundreds of nurses.”

  “Don’t look horrified; you made this child at home, Ted,” Judy pointed out. “Anyway, we are in early days here. Be careful, but not too careful. This kid has the best place in which to thrive.”

  Mia watched her leave the room. She encouraged Ted to come closer. Mia whispered, “You didn’t tell me I had rug burns on my butt.”

  “Hell, look at my knees,” he said lifting his jean leg. “I can hardly walk.”

  Mia started laughing. Ted smiled and lowered his pant leg. “So are we having a boy or girl or one of each?”

  “Too early to tell, and only one at a time. With the size of you, one is going to be a tight fit as it is.”

  “I loves it when you compliment me on my large…”

  “Ted!” Mia censured as Doctor Walters walked in.

  “So, how was your second opinion? Don’t let this professional face fool you; I’m upset and will never forgive you.”

  Mia and Ted were speechless.

  “Just kidding, how’d I do?” he asked.

  “You missed the rug burn,” Ted blurted out.

  Mia groaned and pulled the covers over her head.

  ~

  Angelo’s driver turned into the all too familiar drive of the Martin farm. Last time he’d been there, he left in an ambulance. But a trip to the aerie soon put him to rights. He smiled in the mirror as he announced, “Boss, we have arrived. Look’s kind of deserted.”

  “Looks are deceiving. I see Stephen Murphy sitting on the picnic table. Let me out here, and pull around and park,” Angelo instructed.

  Murphy, who was presently feeling like a heel, was in no mood to talk with Angelo. But as he was the only member of PEEPs currently at the farm, he would have to deal with him. Cid was expected back with Judy sometime soon. He would convey this to the birdman before leaving the area himself. He needed a place to think, and all the farm did was bring up memories, happy and not so happy, of him and Mia. He would travel and see a bit of the nation. See how it was faring. Basically, he’d put some distance between himself and the Martin couple.

  “Excuse me, Stephen, can I have a word with you?” Angelo asked, approaching him.

  “The PEEPs aren’t here,” he said and prepared to give Angelo information of where he could find them.

  “I came here to talk to you, not the PEEPs,” Angelo insisted. “It’s about Father Paolo Santos.”

  “He’s dead.”

  “I beg to differ. His body is alive, but his soul is missing. I was hoping that you could help me on a quest to gather an element I’ll need to help me in my search.”

  “Explain.”

  “He could be in part of the dark world. What you would help me acquire will enable me to see in that world.”

  “What is it?”

  “The Light of Mount Everest.”

  “Mount what?”

  “Everest. It’s the…”

  “I know it’s a mountain, a damn tall one at that,” Murphy said gruffly.

  “The Light is, well, only obtainable by the dead. You see, when a climber or Sherpa dies on the mountain, the Light comes for them. We need to capture part of the Light in this.” Angelo held up a large Mason jar. “You catch it like a firefly. It comes quickly down the mountain, like an avalanche, seeking the dead. According to Roumain, you…”

  “Roumain told you this, and you believed him?”

  “Yes, I have no reason to doubt his word,” Angelo defended. “I’ve already procured, with He-who-walks-through-time’s help, the Water of Mu.”

  “Ed helped you?”

  “No, I think Ed wanted to help Paolo. He has no regard for me,” Angelo acknowledged.

  “Neither do I,” Murphy said. “You’ve done me a great injustice, Birdman, taken away something precious from me. Something I can no longer obtain. But Father Santos is a good man and has treated me fairly. I will help you to get this light.”

  Angelo was so dumbfounded, he was momentarily stuck for words. He expected the farmer to put up a fight. Angelo would have forced his hand if he had to, but he was relieved that there was no need. “Can you leave now? It may take some time. Do you need to leave a note?”

  “Tell your man to tell Cid that I’ve gone with you. He will be here soon with Judy,” Murphy explained.

  Angelo nodded and ran over to the car.

  Murphy pulled out a soapstone and sharpened his axe. He ran the blade six times on each side. He returned the stone to his pocket, stood up, picked up the lidded Mason jar, and waited for Angelo to transform into a large black bird. While he waited, he contemplated the duality he was fighting. Part of him wanted to help Father Santos; this he felt would make Mia happy. The other part of him wanted to get Angelo alone on the mountain and slay him. This would make him happy.

  Murphy closed his mind to the birdman as the mighty wings wrapped around him.

  Cid pulled into the drive and was surprised to see a black limousine next to the barn. He pulled his car next to the vehicle and parked.

  “Whose is that?” Judy asked.

  “Either Gerald Shem or Angelo Michaels. They both have drivers,” Cid said, getting out of the car. He walked around and opened the door for Judy.

  “I’ll wait a moment to see that all’s well,” Judy said, nodding towards the car.

  Cid turned around and saw with a sinking feeling that it was Angelo’s driver that was approaching them.

  “Mr. Murphy asked me to tell you that he is traveling to Mount Everest with Mr. Michaels.”

  “Mount Everest?”

  “The Light, they’re going for the Light,” Judy exclaimed. “You’re all going to need it to see in the dark world.”

  “Dark world? I beg your pardon,” Cid said. “I don’t know anything about a dark world.”

  “No, you wouldn’t yet. So sorry, carry on.” Judy turned to leave.

  Cid’s hand shot out and grabbed her arm firmly. “Stay here and explain.”

  “Angelo thinks that Father Santos’s spirit was taken into the dark world by reapers. One of them lost his ring in the struggle with the priest. The ring will open the door to where the reaper has taken the priest. The wearer is allowed to bring two knights. Ted innocently picked the ring up after the father had been taken, so he may follow the reaper. We know Angelo will insist on going, and we assumed you would go too.”

  “That’s a hell of an assumption. Does Ted know about this?”

  “He knows he is going to be asked to go on a mission of some kind. He knows nothi
ng more than that. He can say no.”

  “He won’t though, will he?”

  “Once you explain how dangerous it is, he may,” Judy suggested.

  “How dangerous is it?” Cid asked.

  “Not many people have returned from the dark world. To my knowledge, there was only one, and that was just a quick excursion to the outer ring. This is where Angelo hopes to find Paolo,” she explained.

  “Ted’s going to be a father. He shouldn’t go. I’ll go instead,” Cid offered.

  “You’re a loyal and true friend. This is why you will make the journey with him as his other knight.”

  “Sir, I wish you luck. If you’ll excuse me, I have to make some calls,” the driver excused himself, turned and returned to the limo.

  “Judy,” Cid started, “This is so, so…”

  “Thrilling, I agree. Do you realize, if Angelo and Murphy come back with the Light, then you’ll be going on an extreme adventure?”

  Cid felt sick. “What do you mean if they return?”

  “There is a chance one of them won’t come back from Everest, Cid.”

  “Angelo won’t leave Murphy there, will he?”

  “Can I talk plainly to you?” Judy asked. “I’m not good at tact and other social niceties.”

  “Neither is Mia. I find this refreshing,” Cid admitted. “I too like to tell it like it is.”

  “Doesn’t go over well does it?”

  “I’ve been called pedantic a time or two,” he said.

  “Fear not, there are so many sides to your personality, being pedantic is but a small wart.”

  Cid laughed. He felt a kinship with the birdwoman. Was it her 400 years of living in basically a monastery that made her so interesting, or was it her wanting to make up for lost time? Either way, he felt for the second time in his life truly comfortable in the company of a woman. “Please, let’s sit, and let me make a meal, and you can tell me your concerns.”

  “May I have a rain check on the meal? Ed will be worried. Another time when we can, as they said in the sixties, let it all hang out.”

  “Yes.”

  “I fear we may have stirred up a hornets’ nest earlier when we discussed Angelo’s feelings for Mia. Angelo dealt Murphy a blow that, right now, the ghost sees as an attack.”

  “But it happened so long ago.”

  “Not really. Remember in Murphy’s world, time is different. What is a year to you is but a few moments for someone existing on a spiritual plane.”

  Realization hit Cid. “So you think that Murphy will use this time to excise Angelo from his and Mia’s life?”

  “Yes. But you know him better than I. What do you think?”

  “Remember, I can’t see him. I can hear and feel him though,” Cid reminded her. “He and I’ve spent some time together, and I’ve been bringing him up to date on the world. He has an amazing thirst for learning. He, in turn, has shown me honor. This is why I have to disagree with you. I think the honorable part of Murphy will take control of the situation. He knows that Father Santos is in jeopardy. He will put his personal feelings on the back burner until this situation is resolved.”

  “I agree with you. Murphy is a man of honor. Thank you for reminding me of this. But I must also put this out there, Cid, forgive me, but I must. Remember, honorable or not, Stephen Murphy was once a man, a man with an axe.”

  Cid couldn’t help the chill that moved down his spine. “Mia has warned us of this a few times. She says, beware, Murphy has a dark side. He’s not Casper the friendly ghost. She trusts him with her life, and he has proven worthy of that trust, but she still maintains that you never know when a ghost is going to go crazy.”

  “Her misty mom,” Judy said in a whisper. “Sabine’s told me of her. She went crazy.”

  “A lot of ghosts do. This was Father Santos’s argument on them lingering alongside the living.”

  “Really, that is most interesting. I will have to discuss this with Komal, with your permission of course.”

  Cid was taken aback. “You don’t need my permission.”

  “Yes, we are friends, and you’ve shared a confidence with me. It wouldn’t be Kosher for me to talk about it to others.”

  “Judy, Murphy isn’t the only honorable being I know. You are also a person of high caliber in my book. Please, you have my permission to discuss anything we’ve talked about.”

  “I appreciate this. And if I didn’t literally have to fly, I would love to continue our conversation. Another time perhaps.”

  “It’s a date.”

  Judy nodded and took time to reach out and shake Cid’s hand before she rushed into the farmhouse.

  Cid waited outside until he heard the flap of wings that signaled her leaving. He walked over and tapped on the window of the limo. The driver rolled down the window.

  “Are you hungry? Because I’m in the mood to cook,” Cid offered.

  “Conveniently, I’m in the mood to eat.”

  Cid waited until the man secured the car, and the two of them walked towards the farmhouse.

  “I can’t tell you anything about my boss,” the driver mentioned.

  “I’m not asking,” Cid said. “For a while, I need to be Cid the chef.”

  “And I’ll be… your hungry customer.”

  Cid didn’t overlook that the man didn’t offer his name. It didn’t matter; he was but a diversion to pull Cid’s thoughts away from the dark world for the time it took to make gumbo.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Burt sat back and watched as Audrey handled the situation with the extraction team. Her previous experience had honed her skills in dealing with forensic technicians and governmental units. She had within a few minutes established that she was the one they had to report to. She had declined any questions as to why there were seven bodies in the remains of what appeared to be a cold storage cellar attached to the Malone house. “Sorry, but that you’ll have to take up with the homeowners,” she said. “I’m just here to investigate a paranormal phenomenon. Flying tiles, that sort of thing.”

  He maintained a watch on the camera feeds. So far, the clowns had not been active. His experience taught him that this was more likely the calm before the storm, instead of what he had hoped for, the conclusion of their activities in the home.

  “Hicks,” Glenda asked from the entrance to the command center. “You got a minute?”

  “For you, Glenda, I have five. What’s up?”

  “I’d like to run into the city to take care of a few things, but Bev’s run off and that would leave you with just Audrey.”

  “I’m expecting Cid and Ted back here in the next hour. Until then, I think we can hold the fort.”

  “Mind if I give you a piece of advice?”

  “You’re going to give it regardless, so please have at it,” Burt said, turning and giving her his full attention.

  “Find time to have a conversation with yourself. Examine your life choices, and see if they jive with how you really want to spend your life. I’ve sure enjoyed my tenure on this planet, Hicks, but from what I can see you’re not. Sure, you’ve got a successful ghost hunting enterprise here, but there isn’t enough paranormal activity to keep all the demons at bay.”

  “Thank you for your advice, Glenda,” Burt said, trying not to show his irritation.

  “I’m just an old busybody, Hicks, but I mean well,” she said and walked away from the back of the trailer.

  “Burt, Audrey reporting in, over.”

  “Go ahead, Audrey, over.”

  “They are ready to start removing the bodies. Do you want to film this? I’ll take the com.”

  “Yes, I would like to film it. Thank you for being on the ball, Audrey. I think the com can run on automatic for a while. I’ll be there in a jiffy. Stall them, over.”

  “Stalling, over and out.”

  Burt transferred the control of the console to the iPad as Ted had instructed him to do. He grabbed his camera and jumped out of the truck, taking time to lower
and lock the back before he headed into the Malone house.

  Inside, the monitors lit up the dark trailer. The computer made notations of any anomalies to be reviewed later. Most were dusts orbs or insect activity, but they would all be noted and looked into. The extra small monitor turned on. A line of script began appearing on the screen. Combined with new written code were the words While the cat’s away, the mouse will play.

  ~

  Bev’s temper was up, and she was determined to leave. She tugged on the locked door of her car as if the fifth or sixth tug would magically lift the locking mechanism. She’d only just refrained from kicking the car in anger. She patted her pockets and frowned as she remembered her keys were in her purse, her purse that she unfortunately left in Glenda’s trailer. She walked over to the white trailer and was about ready to knock when she heard someone moving about inside.

  “Gin, gin, it makes us thin…” a reedy voice drifted in the air. Bev opened the door to find an elderly woman in a floral dressing gown pouring a shot of gin in the coffee carafe.

  “Excuse me, but gin is horrible in coffee,” Bev said.

  The woman faded a bit as she turned around.

  “Gin was mother’s milk to her,” she said.

  “George Bernard Shaw,” Bev answered. “How about, And the sooner the tea’s out of the way, the sooner we can get out the gin, eh?”

  “Henry Reed, The Private Life of Hilda Tablet,” the old woman answered.

  “That dates you, my pretty,” Bev said. “Care to explain…”

  “What?”

  “Well, the slow gin poisoning of the PEEPS for one.”

  “Nonsense, it will calm them down. Two much excitement for their own good.”

  “True. Care to give me your name or shall I just call you Gin Molly.”

  “Martha Bedford, of the Thomas Bedfords.”

  Bev reached out her hand, not expecting the ghost to take it. “Nice to meet you. I’m Beverly Cooper of the, nevermind.”

  “Well, Miss Cooper, do you by any chance play canasta?”