Tales Of The Abysmal Plane (Zoë Martinique Short Stories) (The Zoë Martinique Investigation Series)

by Phaedra Weldon

  "They're coming...," someone whispered.

  "We should run!"

  "Don't stop, Allard," TC commanded again. "That's why I brought the Wraith."

  I guessed this was my cue, so I reached out to the nearest one and—

  Poof. It disappeared in the same gold powder poof as the one I'd touched in the closet.

  I felt a slight surge of power as it evaporated, and I liked it. I touched another one, and the same thing happened. I touched all of them I could, feeling my backbone expand, and my feet nearly lifted from the ground. This wasn't like when I ate that lady in the hospital—or like when I leeched off of Rhonda that time.

  This was different.

  It was much more fulfilling in a base sort of way.

  "What—what is it doing?" Bonville called out.

  "The Wraith is taking in the Abysmal that you tainted."

  "It wasn't my fault! I only did what—" and then he stopped. "She's coming! They're coming!"

  The Shadows were gone, and I felt as light and as high as a freak'n kite. Man—what rush. I kinda thought on one level I was eating garbage—but man what a great feeling garbage gave me. And even though on some level I knew they were souls, I saw them as tainted souls. Souls twisted by the Abysmal Plane.

  Yeah…the plane with the flowers and daisies?

  Mental Note: Okay—something isn't right here, Zoë.

  Dags lay on his back, his arms out in a crucifix position, palms up. The circles on his palms glowed brighter and brighter until a white column of light shot out of each. Both columns widened until they were three feet wide and six feet high. When the light cleared, there were two women standing on either side of Dags' palms.

  One woman was in her later years, though I couldn't tell how old from looking at her. I just got a sense of maturity. Her hair was white as it fell around her shoulders and down her back.

  The other woman was much younger, with darker hair and an unpleasant look on her face. I recognized her from pictures I'd seen of her in her apartment. Maureen?

  TC turned at that moment and pointed to the white-haired woman. "Betrayer!"

  Okay. That's it. I'm confused. I thought dude was the Betrayer. I threw my hands into the air and then popped them on my hips. Hello?

  The white-haired woman laughed. "Did you honestly think I wanted immortality with you inside of me?"

  Mental Note: !!!

  "I wanted it on my own—with no contracts and none of your hidden agendas," the woman pointed at me. "Have you told her the truth? Does she know what she just did?"

  Uh oh.

  I realized just then that the white-haired woman was Alice Bonville. And she was the head of the Cruorem. Not her husband.

  Wait—what did I just do to those Shadow People? Was that a bad thing?

  The Archer glanced at me—and somehow I could tell this through his shades. "She doesn't need to know because she's not a part of this."

  "You made her a part of this, Azreal," Alice smiled. "Maureen, please tell the young Wraith what it is she's just consumed?"

  Maureen turned to look at me. That's about the time I realized both of these women were naked. Oh my. Their light was so bright from within them it was hard to distinguish definition.

  "The Shadows you took—the Guardians who have protected us since our transmutation—were pure Abysmal essence."

  What—

  "Shadow People, as you call them, are nothing more than the primordial essence of the Abysmal Plane. Elementals if you like. It is possible to create corrupted Shadow People by leaving a living body in the Abysmal Plane, which is what Nora Wynne did when she tossed all those members into the Abysmal to dissolve the Cruorem—but that's not what those were. Those were the minions sent to prevent the Archer from cheating the Phantasm," she pointed a long slender finger at me. "You've just consumed over twenty of these Abysmal Elementals."

  TC was standing between the woman and me. His Shades vanished, and I was looking into his solid white eyes. "She's lying. They were corrupt souls."

  I didn't believe him. Why should I believe him? He wasn't feeling the untainted euphoria I was feeling, the surge of power that ran along my backbone and into my soul. I thought of Daniel lying immobile in that hospital bed, about him hanging by a thread on that fire escape, about the raw hatred I'd had for the Archer on that rooftop. And now he'd screwed things up again—and a man lay unmoving in front of me again—possibly dying?

  And so it all came to a head just then, as I reached out and shoved him away from me.

  He blew backward and smashed into Bonville.

  Maureen smiled, the expression of distaste vanishing. "By consuming them, I'm afraid you've over-saturated yourself with Abysmal essence. Archer's plan was for you to destroy them all, and he believed that would open the path for him to steal the contracts and take the souls for himself."

  TC picked himself off the floor. "That's a lie!"

  Alice laughed. "Oh Archer. When you came to me with the offer of immortality—you seemed so sincere, and he always does, doesn't he?" she looked at me. I noticed her eyes were milky white. So were Maureen's. And I sort of knew they weren't human anymore. At least not in a physical sense.

  Maureen smiled.

  "Yes Zoë, he came to me, bent on joining with me. Because you see, I could do what you did before he touched you. I could leave my body, and he wanted the same power from me he got from you. I never knew how he lost it—the truth of how. But I turned the tables on him. I discovered the existence of the Phantasm, and that is where my bid for immortality went. All I had to do was hide the book from Allard before he fucked things completely up."

  And then I got it—sort of. Why TC called her the Betrayer. Because she betrayed him—but not in the deal—but to the Phantasm.

  Alice nodded. "You understand, Miss Martinique? The Phantasm knew Archer was planning something, and it had something to do with my husband, the idiot. I was diagnosed with the first stages of dementia and Allard was all set to lock me away in an institution and take the coven away from me.

  "I retrieved the book after discovering his plan to become immortal by using the Grimoire. Too late, I'd discovered he tried marking the four souls," she looked down at Dags. "This fourth soul was different. A conduit of untapped power. So I sent Maureen after him to look over him and protect him. Only Allard was a bit better at being devious."

  I nodded my head slowly. He had you killed. You and Maureen. And all those other people?

  She shook her head. "No. I wish it'd been that simple. Allard had copied a few of the spells out of the book and used them on me, Maureen, and thirteen innocent souls. You'll never find our bodies."

  I stepped forward. He transported you into the Abysmal Plane...but he didn't make you Shadow People?

  "No, he didn't," Maureen said, and I could sense sadness in her. "Our bodies dissolved, but the Phantasm saved us, remembering our deal."

  Alice spoke. "So here we are, neither shadow nor human, neither dead or alive," she looked down at the unconscious bartender. "And now we are grounded—locked—to the doorways on this man's hands. Because my husband," and she glared at him, "didn't know what he was doing when he summoned us."

  Wait...are you saying you...you're stuck to Dags?

  "Allard used him as the conduit, only he got the spell wrong just now," Maureen said. "This was his original intention because he wanted the book back and wanted to interrogate us to get its location. And the Archer wanted the contracts."

  I sighed. So where are the contracts?

  Alice held up her hand, and the contracts I'd seen with Archer were now in her hand. She held them up above her head. "Cruorem—you gave your loyalty to me over a decade ago. It was to me you pledged your obeisance. Tonight, I release you of that oath."

  I looked at TC. He was coming toward us. "Give me those."

  Why? So you can be all powerful again? I don't think so.

  TC lunged out to grab them from Alice—but I was faster. I was juiced up to
my eyeballs with Abysmal essence. I was beside Alice, grabbed the contracts, and then handed them to Maureen—I don't know why, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

  "Thank you," she said, and abruptly the documents burned away.

  TC threw his head back and screamed.

  And, one by one, the people in the robes vanished.

  I freaked out.

  "They're not dead, but returned to their homes," Alice said. "They'll have a headache, and a faint memory of a bad dream. All of this is my fault initially, for believing the Archer. There's nothing I can do about the members who were destroyed in the failed attempt. Their souls are long gone into the Abysmal mist."

  I frowned. Explain to me—Allard tried to bring you back, but because somehow the ritual failed—

  Alice sighed. "We're now bound to this boy. It was his unconscious power that realized what was happening, breaking the connection that tried to pull us back into a physical existence that no longer wanted us."

  All eyes turned down to Dags who lay oblivious on the floor. I noticed he wasn't looking so good either.

  And then, that was you in the loft—the Shadow that showed me where the documents were.

  Maureen spoke up. "That was me. After seeing what Dags could do—we needed to secure your help." She looked down at Dags. "This wasn't supposed to happen. We wanted to remove the marks. To release him."

  Alice nodded. "But now we're a part of the Guardian summoning."

  You're Guardians? I thought he was a Guardian?

  "We are Guardian familiars," Alice said. "Or that's the best I can do with it. We don't have free will over it, but we're a part of him. We protect him and those he summons us for. He has no memory of us—the spell works mostly on instinct."

  Wow. That was kind of—neat.

  "No!" Maureen screamed.

  That's when I saw TC hovering over Allard, the only robed figure remaining. Allard was on his knees, and TC's right hand was up. I recognized the glowing red orb in the center and could remember the feeling of utter euphoria that being pulled into that red light could give. TC was stealing his soul.

  On my own instinct, I yelled at TC. And I mean yelled—just as I had that night on the roof. As I had that day in the shop when Mitsuri had gone after Daniel.

  The foundation shook and groaned, but it had the effect I wanted. TC vanished—not like he had on the roof—no. I hadn't blasted him that hard, though I'd wanted to. He was holding Allard, and I didn't want to zap a human being—no matter how guilty–out of existence.

  But the Archer was gone.

  Allard Bonville collapsed and lay still.

  "Thank you, Miss Martinique."

  I looked at the two women. They really were starting to look alike—tall, well built, and totally naked. Wow—if only Dags could see this. I pointed to him. Will Dags ever know you're there?

  Alice shrugged. "For now, no. We'll have to reveal ourselves to him slowly. When he recovers from this, he won't remember us."

  "Neither will you," Maureen said. "You won't remember us. You'll remember the Archer, unfortunately. And he'll remember you. You hurt him, but you didn't destroy him. Be prepared against him, Miss Martinique. He is a vile enemy."

  Yeah, yeah. You don't have to tell me. So I won't remember either of you?

  "Not at first. But I have something I want Dags to remember." She knelt down beside him and put her hand on his heart. I didn't know what she was doing though, or what it was she wanted him to remember.

  Alice said, "I will put this memory into your heart—the energy you absorbed can be transferred, and it can be used for healing."

  The two women vanished.

  I sighed and sank to the floor beside Dags.

  Epilogue

  Needless to say, Mom and Rhonda were cheezed to find my slowly freezing body in Elizabeth. When I didn't respond, I was once again rushed to the hospital where I woke up. Mom was there, her bag of knitting beside her, demanding to know what the hell happened.

  Evidently there was a call to 911 placed from the residence of one Allard Bonville. The chief of surgery was rushed to the hospital, along with an unconscious young man, both found in his basement. Bonville was found in silky black robes, and the young man, later identified as Darren McConnell, was in a pair of flannel pajamas and a T-shirt.

  "You have anything to do with that?" Mom was knitting, not looking at me.

  I pursed my lips at her and shook my head. I had my board and wrote on it. GOT A FEEL'N, CAME HOME AND FOUND SF AROUND HOUSE. WENT OOB.

  She read it, but kept knitting. "But you don't remember anything after that?"

  I shook my head, which was the truth. I didn't remember anything other than waking up in the hospital. I did remember going Wraith and sneaking into the house—and then poof. Total blackout.

  "We'll see if Dags can remember anything when he wakes up."

  Uh huh. Erase. Scribble. CAN GO SEE DANIEL?

  "No, you have to stay in bed. Melvin thinks you were in another diabetic coma—and it appeared like that. We told him you left, and what he thinks is that you got in the car, but slipped unconscious—and that's where we found you the next morning."

  I nodded. Sounded reasonable. Maybe.

  In a pig's eye.

  "Right now Dags is resting. So is Daniel. You rest, too. I have three of you in the same damned hospital, rooms 116, 123, and 245. I want you to know I hate hospitals, Zoetrope. I despise them."

  Me too. Erase, scribble, scribble. RHONDA WITH DAGS?

  "No, she's not. She left after she saw him—hasn't been back. Jemmy, Steve, and Tim are watching him."

  Oh. Wonder what that was about?

  •••

  Later that night—and I couldn't tell you what night it was—I slipped out of my body and headed to Daniel's room. I had an overwhelming need to see him. To touch him. I had to give him something. But I had no idea what.

  No one was in the room when I sieved through the door, and I moved as quickly to him as I could. I became solid and took his hand. The skin around the IV was irritated, black and blue. And he was losing weight, as he lay here unmoving.

  But I had to—

  I was supposed to do something—

  I needed to—

  The inability to finish the thought pissed me off, so I simply sat in the chair, took his left hand in my left hand, put my right hand over his heart, and closed my eyes, intent on mending him myself.

  But…

  There was another pull...

  ***CODE BLUE, CODE BLUE, CRASH TO ROOM 116 STAT. CODE BLUE, CODE BLUE, CRASH TO ROOM 116 STAT***

  Holly & Ivy

  Chronologically, this story takes place after Out of the Dark and before SPECTRE.

  I never really understood Christmas, or Yule, or Kwanza or Hanukkah—pick one. Not until that December 21, after becoming a Wraith. Before then, like most, I thought it was all about the presents. I never considered there were deeper meanings to all the merchandising.

  Like faith, hope, and good tidings. All that commercial stuff. Mushy stuff.

  At that point, I'd pretty much chucked hope and the future down the toilet—I had no idea where I was going. Or what I was going to do with the rest of my life.

  My name is Zoë Martinique, and I'm a Wraith. Don't know what that is? Ha. Neither do I. What I do know is that I can move out of my body at will, I can somehow touch Ghosts and help them move on to whatever comes next, and I have a stalker from the Abysmal Plane who, coincidentally, has my voice. I'm mute, with no medical explanation, and the man I love, Daniel, is in a coma in a hospital several miles away.

  Another man who'd wiggled his way into my life by exposing himself to me—literally—had vanished from the same hospital over a week ago. A bartender with a gift of light. He died...briefly. And somehow...I felt responsible for bringing him back.

  Dags McConnell.

  What did these two innocent men have in common?

  Moi.

  Mental Note: I should have a warni
ng label tattooed on my ass.

  On this night—which they called the Winter Solstice—Rhonda had agreed to some ritual or ceremony or something over at the Phoenix and Dragon, Atlanta's premiere metaphysical shop. I'd been in there several times—it was on the Top Ten list of my mom and Rhonda's favorite places.

  I always enjoyed the feel and the incredible smell of the building, nestled into the trees off of Rowell Road, just inside the perimeter. Though I'd never been in there when the store was closed before.

  It'd taken lots of pushing and threats from my mom, Nona, for me to leave the hospital and go with Rhonda.

  Well no...that wasn't entirely true. I sort of wanted to get out of Northside Hospital, and I was ashamed of the relief that washed over me when this opportunity came up.

  A part of me wanted to spend Christmas Eve with Daniel—the man I wanted to make babies with. But a larger part was damned terrified to be there when he woke up.

  The doctors said he should wake any day now. So we waited patiently by his bedside. And I really wanted the first thing he saw to be me.

  Kinda.

  Uhm...not really.

  To be honest, I really didn't want to be near the hospital. But I didn't want anyone else to know that. Because I felt responsible for what happened to him.

  We'd arrived at the store about elevenish. After a quick tour for me and a few others in the little group—with much ogling over the ginormous holly bush in the side yard that had taken over a piece of fence (and why were they all excited about the fact it had ivy growing all over it? My mom lived to kill ivy...or was that kudzu? I couldn't tell the difference)—they'd all gone downstairs—about six of them.

  Rhonda had told me to be careful upstairs. "This place is haunted. Never know what you'll see. Especially you."

  Oh. Great. You took a Wraith to a haunted shop? I'd made a rude gesture at Rhonda when she'd gone downstairs.

  I stood in the meditation garden, a beautiful area built up on a handmade deck nestled at the center of the store, but outside the building itself.