Yikes. I immediately started looking around for Maureen's Ghost. They seemed to follow me around lately—but there didn't seem to be any sign of one. In fact, I wasn't seeing anything weird.
"But you said she disappeared." Rhonda frowned at him. "You're thinking disappeared is dead?"
Dags nodded. "She's dead. It's just the last time anyone saw her was here—I saw her. And then she was found dead in the square."
"When you say you saw her here," Rhonda said, leaning her head toward him, "you mean you saw her Ghost here before she was found dead? Or you saw her alive here before she was found dead."
He frowned at her and blinked. "The first one. Only, I didn't know she was dead, 'cause she looked alive to me. But they said she'd been dead for twenty-four hours, which meant she'd already been dead."
There was a very odd pause. No one said anything.
I waved at him to get his eyes off of Rhonda (and because word problems always gave me a headache) and pointed upstairs. Are we okay to go upstairs?
Dags nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Let's go on up."
I nodded and looked up the steps. Well, so this is where the oogies hang out—let's go see.
The stairs were a straight, slanted shot up. I could just make out the back end of a baby grand on the way up. As well as the back of a brick wall and a gold-framed landscape picture. Another tree—only this one was decorated in blue and green—gleamed at me against the far wall. The air felt different up here—not warmer like I expected, 'cause you know—warm air rises. But more like...
Cold.
Just as I topped the first step, something slammed hard into my right shin. I let out a silent whoosh of air much like a scream—only—not. I did tumble forward into the edge of the piano and knocked it with my weight.
"Zoë!" Dags was up the stairs and beside me, his hand on my arm.
"Did you see that?" I heard Rhonda say in a more-than-excited voice.
No, I didn't see a damned thing. Though my shoulder connected pretty hard with the piano leg. Ow. That sucked. I could hear Rhonda behind me, her weight making the hardwood creak. But as I pushed myself up to be on hands and knees, with Dags trying his best to be helpful, but instead getting in my way, I did catch something—well—dark and fuzzy—out of the corner of my eye.
Now—seeing smoky, blacky, wispy things out of the corner of my eye had become a norm since changing into a Wraith—or whatever. I saw them all the time. Mostly it was always in the shadows of a place—though not in my home or Mom's. I did see them a lot in old buildings and in hospitals.
Sheesh. Hospital. Another name for Grand Central Station.
I rarely saw these things in daylight–and trust me—with the time of day and where the Livery's front faced—there was direct sun streaming into that loft. So I made sure that I stood up slowly, and cautiously, because whatever it was, it'd wasted no time trying to shove me into the piano.
"There it goes again!" Rhonda almost squealed with delight.
Well, I was glad someone was having a good time. Me? Not so much. I was getting a little unnerved by the whole thing. I didn't get the whole "wheee…,we're chasing Ghosts" fun that Rhonda was high on.
I straightened up and stood in front of the piano, the window behind me on the opposite side of the baby grand, the staircase down to my right. The cut-through was just a few feet away as well, surrounded by a waist-high mahogany banister.
Taking in more of the place, smaller tables were spaced out evenly around the area, though I could see where they could all be placed facing the piano. You know, just in case Billy Joel showed up.
The entire back wall was a bar. And I mean a nice bar. The wall was covered in shelves of booze from ceiling to —well—it might go to the floor. The bar obscured it for me. Trimmed in shiny brass—it was impressive.
"Nice, eh?" Dags said, as he moved away from me and then continued to the bar. "This is where I work most shifts. Maureen never came up here. Refused to—said there was something up here that gave her the creeps."
I snapped my fingers at Rhonda to get her attention and motioned for her to hand me a pen and paper. Okay–so—yeah, I should carry my own. But I hated carrying bags, much less a purse. Rhonda liked backpacks.
And she was organized. She kept a small notepad and pen in an outside pocket and handed them to me.
"You really should consider sign language," Dags said.
I scribbled. YOU KNOW SIGN LANGUAGE?
He nodded. "Sure."
Scribble, scribble. HOW MANY OTHER PEOPLE YOU KNOW USE ASL?
He pursed his lips. "Good point. But—if you learn it, and Rhonda learns it, then it's easier for her to interpret for you."
'Scuse me? Rhonda interpret? Hell no! She'd PG me!
"Interpret huh? I like that," Rhonda said with a smile. She moved away from the stairs, which made me feel a little better. "Maybe then I could get on a real payroll."
Phhhttt.
I turned the page. Scribble. SO—YOU SEEN THE BROWNIES UP HERE?
"I'm not buying the Brownies angle," Dags said. "But I've seen them out of the corner of my eye—just like a few seconds ago. There is no reason to trip up that step, Zoë. But you're not the first to do it. Almost everyone that's new up here does it. Customers are almost used to it happening. It's like a game."
I was watching him. I scribbled again. BUT YOU DON'T THINK IT'S A GAME TO THE BROWNIES?
He shook his head slowly.
"So, did you see it, Zoë?" Rhonda asked as she neared us. "When it tripped you?"
I shook my head and then frowned. I pointed at her, and Dags got what I was indicating.
"Good point," he said. "Why didn't it trip Rhonda?"
"Maybe because I saw it?"
I pursed my lips. Maybe—but I wasn't buying that. Instead, I moved away from the two of them and started looking at the walls and the ceiling. There were a couple of shadowy places to the right, where the banister of the cut-through met the brick wall. And there was another one on the opposite side, where a part of the brick stuck out further than the main wall.
Oh, and there was always behind the bar.
My heart pounding in my chest, I moved slowly to the bar, my hands out at my side. I braced myself against it before looking over the side.
Nothing. Though it was shadowy.
"Hey, Zoë," Rhonda called out. "Why don't you go OOB and take a look? For all we know, they're right here, and we can't see them."
Good point. Only—why did I suddenly have stage fright?
Maybe it was because even though I was now weird, I didn't like things weird. The Phantasm I'd met a few weeks back was the icing on the cake to a constant stream of Poltergeists (back in October), succubus, and Symbionts.
Oh yeah. My life. Want it?
I looked around the area and decided on a nice, open spot where I could snuggle my body up behind the piano, braced by the wall, but not as easy to get to. I nudged myself in there and lay down.
"What is she doing?" Dags asked.
"You'll see."
And, in seconds, I was out of my body and standing up. I sieved through the piano—wood wasn't so bad—and moved closer to where they stood.
Dags' eyes widened until they looked as if they were going to explode. His mouth was a perfect O. I smiled at him and nodded. So—is this what you saw that day at Fadó's?
He nodded. "Yeah—" he looked me up and down. "I don't remember the bunny slippers though."
I glanced down at my black bunny slippers and tapped my feet. Yeah, this is apparently the uniform my subconscious likes to put me in. I could look just like I look right now if you like?
Dags shook his head. "No. The bunnies work for me." He looked at Rhonda. "OOB. Out of body."
She beamed.
He beamed.
I stuck my tongue out and shoved my finger inside of my open mouth. Gross you two. Get a room so you can geek in private.
So—I looked around—concentrating on the shadows. Oh, I saw things. Gray images o
f faces, eyes, things that looked like that classic painting, The Scream. But little Shadow People? Or wee men in brown suits? Nope.
Until—
"Zoë?"
I knew the sound of that voice. I turned from where I was at the bar and saw Dags and Rhonda standing near the stairs, just in front of the cut-through. They were looking at the opposite wall.
No—not really. They were looking at two distinct images in front of the Christmas tree.
Dags, you see them?
He nodded. "I see something. It's not really people. More like…"
"It's a shimmering in front of the tree." Rhonda said. "Like heat coming off of a blistering pavement on a hot summer day—" she pointed. "Wait, did you see that?"
What I saw was something totally different. They did look like people—though very small people. No more than three feet high. They were reed thin in odd places. Instead of having thin arms and legs, they were thin in the torsoand a little wider along their arms—and their legs. They had no feet.
And no faces. Just—well—they looked like they were made of shadows. And also like we'd discussed at Mom's. Like I wasn't quite seeing them all the way.
Well, you two don't look like Brownies.
And for some wacko reason, one of them paid attention, because it turned and looked at me.
Yow!
And it had eyes. Two pinpoints of lights—and they were focused on me. And they looked…
Menacing.
I could have sworn I heard it hissing.
Oh no you di'int.
"Are they looking at your body?" Dags said.
My body. Oh good grief! No—not again. Another entity wanting my body to ride around in like Rai had? I started forward, and the one watching me vanished.
And it was in front of me. It didn't have a mouth, per se—but it did have a weird oval-shaped darker area where a mouth should be. And the little fucker was batting at me with his hands.
It never actually touched me—and I almost laughed at it.
Until I heard Rhonda yell out.
I looked away from the tiny brute trying to take me down to see the other one running at Dags and Rhonda. And, too late, I realized what it meant to do.
They were standing right in front of the cut-through. One good shove, and it could knock one of them, if not both, backward and over the banister. It would take a good physical knock—but then they had tripped me in my physical body.
I moved through the little bugger in front of me as it continued to hiss and flail. I had to get to the other one and knock it over somehow. I was sure Dags and Rhonda couldn't see it clearly, or they'd be getting out of the way.
Before I could get there, a blinding light stopped me right in my tracks. It was a painful light—close to a hundred suns against my skin. I put my hands up to ward it off and still felt it—almost as if it singed my astral skin.
I managed to look through the light as it faded—and my jaw dropped to the floor. The little shadow man who had tried to attack me was gone. So was the other one.
What I saw was Rhonda huddled down on the floor against the banister. And Dags—
Well Dags was standing with his feet spread wide, his right hand out, palm facing where the Shadow Person had charged him, almost as if he'd meant to push it away. A white light was dimming from the center of his palm.
WTF?
And then the light was gone. Dags stayed still with his hand straight out like that for a few minutes. On his palm, I swear I saw glowing, spinning circles before he looked at me and gave me a wan smile. Finally, he shifted his weight and stood up straight before cradling his right hand against his chest.
"I guess I have some s'planin' to do, huh Lucy?"
I glared at him. I don't know how I knew it, but I knew it. Maybe it was Mom's constant spouting off of things she knew, or maybe I'd actually stumbled on it in a book. But I knew.
I knew it for certain.
I pointed at him a la Invasion of the Body Snatchers. The only thing I didn't do was hiss.
You're a Magician!
-4-
Dags held his hands up. I just stood there in my all-together-astral with my mouth hanging down to my feet. And Rhonda?
She was looking at the bartender as if he were Brad Pitt—with a booger hanging out of his nose.
"You're—" she twisted her already-peculiar expression into something else. "What are you?"
Dags sighed and lowered his hands. "Hey, I'm just like you. Flesh and blood, but with a little added suh-um, suh-um in the brain pan that lets me see things." He waved the index finger of his right hand in the air. "Weird things. Made for some pretty strange childhood adventures."
"So you see Ghosts," Rhonda said. "And you can like—shoot light at them?" She held her arms out and up in a gesture of frustration. "I can see Ghosts, and I can't shoot light out of my hand."
"That wasn't as cool as it looked. I can explain how to do that and how it—" he put his hand to his forehead and stumbled back, his eyes closing.
Look out—he's gonna fall over!
I was beside him before Rhonda could react and managed to become solid enough to grab him sideways. He didn't completely pass out, but it was obvious his knees weren't working.
Geez—he might be short, but he weighed a ton.
Rhonda grabbed a chair off of a table and scooted it over. I gave a silent groan as he half-helped me get him into the chair. He bent over at the waist, putting his head between his knees. The hair from his ponytail splayed out all around his shoulders, flashing a blue-black sheen from the light filtering in through the window.
Rhonda went to the bar and grabbed a glass from the overhead shelf. I heard the tink of ice being dumped in and then the faucet.
Now why didn't I think about doing that? In fact—
I moved back to my own body and slipped in, stretching as I stood up, and headed to the bar to pour myself a couple of glasses of ice water. I was dying of thirst. So, I stood at the bar and watched the two of them as I guzzled.
Mental Note: water—it does a body good.
"Thanks," Dags said, as he took the glass and drank down half of it.
Oooh—careful, I thought as he drank so fast. Or you're gonna get—
Dags winced and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ooh…brain freeze."
I smiled. I liked him. He was a bit weird. And he might be a little kinky. But I liked him.
Rhonda took the glass back. "So—does that happen often, too?"
"Only when I react like that—on the spur. I'm not prepared for it." He smiled at her and tucked stray strands of hair behind his ears. He looked a little pale. And I was kinda happy that, for once, it wasn't me recuperating from something.
Eh—give it time. This is me talking here.
"What do you mean prepared for it?" Rhonda poked at him. Leave it to the Goth-chick. She'd make Batman fear her.
I finished off my second glass of water and stuck it under the tap again. This was good water. And I could probably drink all there was.
"If I'm going to be going into a dangerous situation, I can usually psych myself up for that kind of thing. But I didn't think," he paused. "I really didn't think this time would be dangerous."
"So those little Shadow People don't usually just bust out like that?"
I drank half of the third glass, only partially paying attention to the two of them. It was kinda boring, and I'd rather be at the hospital in Daniel's room. There was this nagging anxiety at the back of my neck—so afraid he'd wake up, and I wouldn't be there. Not only did I want to see those gorgeous blues again—I wanted to know what the last thing he saw was.
Me—or the Wraith?
I moved the glass away from my face at that thought and frowned. Since when did I start really distinguishing me from what I did? Was that such a good idea? And where the hell was the rulebook for this?
My stomach growled—since I really didn't eat much cold breakfast. I set the glass down and started looking around the bar,
opening drawers and cabinets. Didn't bars have like peanuts or something snacky?
"So is it something natural you learned? Part of your seeing Ghosts? 'Cause honestly, I can see Ghosts—well most Ghosts. I don't see Shades."
"Me neither. I can sense there's something there—but I can't see them."
"It's really annoying, isn't it?" Rhonda said.
"Yeah—but what I just did wasn't because I have some special power, but because I got these—"
I was crouched down behind the bar when he said that, so I popped up and looked over at the two of them. He had his hands up, palms facing Rhonda.
Rhonda backed up with her mouth open. "You—you had summonings tattooed on your palms?"
He beamed.
I frowned. He had what? I moved from the bar and stood beside Rhonda. Yeah, Dags had some weird concentric circles tattooed on both palms. There were little squiggles on each one, a little different. Kinda like mirror images. But even as I stared at them, the images faded to a light red, about the color of my own mark, and then faded away.
Is that normal?
Dags nodded to me. "Yeah, they do that after I stop using them. But they're always there. I can feel them."
"Do you realize what you've done—how dangerous that is?" Rhonda didn't seem happy. Should I seem unhappy, too? I mimicked her frown just to be sure. "You could summon accidentally."
"Yeah, tell me about it," Dags took the water from Rhonda's hand and finished it. No brain freeze. "But I didn't do it."
I pursed my lips. Well no, you boob. You can't tattoo yourself. Well, you could, but I doubt the pain would make it fun.
He looked at me and made a face. "That's not what I meant. I mean I didn't choose to have these things on my hands. I sort of got involved in a really weird—group."
A cult?
He gave me that look again.
Hey, you're the one with the disappearing tattoo on your hand, not me. Cult?
"Well I didn't think it was a cult."
Tales Of The Abysmal Plane (Zoë Martinique Short Stories) (The Zoë Martinique Investigation Series) Page 7
