Alexander Death (The Paranormals, Book 3)

by JL Bryan

  These events in South Carolina were starting to look more and more like the supernatural, and Heather didn't like that at all.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Ashleigh and Tommy rode fast through the night, stopping only to refuel the bike and to eat at a Waffle House outside Greensboro, Georgia, since nothing else was open that late at night. They devoured plates of omelets, hash browns and biscuits with gravy, to the amazement of their waitress. Both of them were drained from the massive energy it had taken to incite the riot. They needed sleep, but Ashleigh insisted on putting hours between them and Charleston before they rested.

  She clung to his bike as the interstate rolled away beneath them. The road was nearly deserted, except for occasional clusters of eighteen-wheeler trucks ferrying cargo through the early hours of the morning.

  Ashleigh tried to imagine what must have happened to Jenny. The mob had closed in around Jenny, attacking her from every direction. Naturally, Jenny would do her thing and unleash a plague on the crowd in order to survive. This time, the CDC and Homeland Security and the National Guard would all be waiting, thanks to that epidemiologist Dr. Reynard, who Ashleigh had played like a mark at a carnival.

  Maybe they would just kill Jenny, but maybe they would capture her and keep her locked up for testing. Ashleigh didn’t mind if Jenny was dead, but she really preferred her alive, imprisoned and suffering for a long, long time. If Jenny died, then she might reincarnate somewhere, and Ashleigh would have no idea where to find her.

  Ashleigh felt the glow of victory even in her deep exhaustion. Now she was free to proceed with her own life.

  They finally stopped riding at sunrise, and they checked into a “Heartache Motel” in Tupelo, Mississippi. Ashleigh supposed the motel’s name was as close as the owners could come to ripping off an Elvis song without getting sued.

  Tommy led the way into the small motel room, which smelled like a hamster cage. The air conditioning unit chugged in the window, and a streak of putrid green color stained the wall and carpet underneath it. A couple of faded Elvis posters were framed on the wall.

  “Nice place.” Ashleigh tossed Darcy Metcalf’s huge purse into one chair. “Reminds me of the Ritz-Carlton in Manhattan.”

  “I’m running low on cash,” Tommy said. “I’ll have to rob somebody soon. Unless you have any?”

  Ashleigh had a PayPal debit card worth just over two hundred thousand dollars, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. “I’m sure you’ll come up with some money,” she told him. She took his hand and gave him her best smile. Her touch didn’t have as much effect on him as it did on most people, which made him harder to control, but he was still useful to her.

  “Just have to find a place without security cameras.” Tommy flopped back on the bed, and it let out a painful rusty squeak. “Maybe some ratbag gas station.”

  “Or destroy the security tape before you leave,” Ashleigh said.

  “Huh. Good idea.” He rubbed his head, watching her.

  Ashleigh looked at herself in the mirror. She possessed Esmeralda’s body, which was a huge step up from inhabiting Darcy Metcalf’s pregnant, farting form. Esmeralda had long, attractive legs, a decent body, a very pretty face. With some makeup and new clothes, Ashleigh could really make this work.

  “Hey, Ashleigh?” Tommy said.

  “Yes?” She gave him another cheerful smile.

  “I was wondering if…?”

  “What? Spit it out, boy.”

  “I was thinking maybe I could hang out with Esmeralda for a while?”

  Ashleigh wanted to scowl at him, but she kept the smile frozen on her face. “Oh, you want to talk to her?”

  “Yeah. Just check on her, you know?”

  “Of course.” Ashleigh lay on the bed beside him. “Do we have to do it tonight?”

  “Yeah, I want to.”

  Ashleigh sighed. She could feel Esmeralda at the back of her mind, bound up by the golden threads of Ashleigh’s love. She had no intention of letting the girl out again, which could give Esmeralda a chance to change her mind about letting Ashleigh’s spirit ride around inside her.

  Still, she needed to pacify Tommy. She might as well do it now, while he had deep purple patches under his eyes and would probably pass out anytime.

  “Okay, Tommy. Just give me a minute.” Ashleigh closed her eyes and laid her head on the pillow. She needed to sleep, too.

  After a few seconds, she opened her eyes and smiled. “Tommy!”

  “Is that you?” Tommy cupped her chin in his hand.

  “Yeah, Ashleigh’s asleep,” Ashleigh said.

  “Are you okay with all of this?” Tommy asked. “Having her inside you?”

  “Oh, yeah. I love Ashleigh.” She moved closer to him, so that their bellies and hips were pressed together. Then she slid her hand around the back of his neck. “And I love you, too. I missed you.”

  “Me, too.” He kissed her, and she let herself enjoy it for a while. He cupped her breasts in his hands, and Ashleigh slid one hand under his shirt to feel his hard, warm stomach. Tommy was definitely hot, and she needed a little fun.

  Ashleigh sat up and stripped off her shirt while he watched with low, drowsy eyelids. Then she hiked up his shirt to his armpits, meaning to undress him, but he didn’t raise his arms.

  “Come on, Tommy,” she said. “Help me out here.”

  He didn’t move. She looked at his face again, and his eyes were closed. She kissed his mouth again to see if that would wake him, but he didn’t stir.

  “Tommy? Are you asleep?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Loser,” she snorted. Then she climbed out of bed to grab a hot shower before sleep.

  ***

  Esmeralda Medina Rios lived with her mother Guadalupe in an apartment in Los Angeles. Tommy and Ashleigh rode into the graffiti-covered cinderblock complex, and Ashleigh’s lip curled at the scene.

  “I told you it was ugly,” Tommy said. “Should we just keep going?”

  “No.” Ashleigh took off her helmet. “We have nowhere else to go right now. We have to use Esmeralda’s identity.”

  “What do you mean, use her identity?” Tommy asked as Ashleigh got off the bike.

  “Well, of the three of us, you’re an escaped felon and I’m dead.” Ashleigh kicked the locked saddlebag where her bones were stored in her high school backpack. “So, if we’re going to put together any kind of life, we start with Esmeralda’s life and go from there.” Ashleigh looked at the stripped corpse of an automobile that occupied the parking spot next to them. “Though it doesn’t seem like she has much to build on. What does she do for a job, again?”

  “She’s a mortuary cosmetician,” Tommy said. “Actually, she’s an intern, but she’s working toward her degree—”

  “Oh, gross. I am not doing that.” Ashleigh crossed her arms.

  “You don’t have to,” Tommy said. “Just let Esmeralda out to do it.”

  “Right. Duh,” Ashleigh said. “But I think it’s time for a career change.”

  “To what?” Tommy asked. He was leading them down the broken, spray-painted sidewalk towards Esmeralda’s mother’s door.

  “I have a few ideas,” Ashleigh said. “But I have to look around. There’s a big mid-term coming up in the fall, you know. The President’s going to lose control of Congress.”

  “Who cares?” Tommy stopped in front of an apartment door. “You’re not like some political junkie, are you? Politics are boring.”

  “Power isn’t boring,” Ashleigh said. “Don’t you ever think about using your gift for something bigger than, you know, just robbing stupid liquor stores? Something on a much bigger scale?”

  “Like robbing a bank?” Tommy asked.

  Ashleigh rolled her eyes.

  “So, should we knock?” he asked. “See if she’s home?”

  “No, we shouldn’t knock,” Ashleigh said. “I’m playing Esmeralda, and this is her home, so...” Ashleigh fished Esmeralda’s keychain out of Esmeralda’s
purse. “Hopefully, she’s got some decent clothes for me.”

  They walked inside. The apartment was tiny, with a living/kitchen area divided by a bar. Spanish-language magazines were neatly arranged on the coffee table. Ashleigh looked at the framed posters on the wall: Jesus, Mary, and one saint after another stared back at her.

  “Okay, we get it, you're Catholic,” Ashleigh whispered.

  “What did you say?” Tommy asked.

  “Esmeralda!” One of the doors leading off the living room opened, and a large Mexican woman in a bright dress burst out. She looked at Ashleigh, burst into tears, and hugged her tight. Ashleigh was guessing this was Esmeralda's mother.

  The woman spoke a rapid stream of Spanish, catching Ashleigh off-guard. Ashleigh had taken three years of Spanish, under the tutelage of Señora McDonald at Fallen Oak High School, but nobody had never spoken so rapidly in her class.

  Then the woman slapped her and began barking words in a booming, angry voice. Ashleigh picked out individual words, like afraid and worried, and then the lady started pointing at Tommy: “Quién es? Quién es?” Who is he?

  “Mama,” Ashleigh said, in halting Spanish. “This is Tommy. He is my boyfriend now.”

  “No!” the woman snapped. She spoke very rapidly again, repeated the word Pedro several times.

  “Who is Pedro?” Ashleigh whispered to Tommy.

  “Esmeralda's old boyfriend,” Tommy whispered back.

  “Mama,” Ashleigh said. “He and I are not together anymore. Tommy is my boyfriend now.”

  The woman got up into Ashleigh's face, screaming and jabbing her finger into Ashleigh's chest.

  “Okay, this sucks,” Ashleigh said. “Tommy, scare her.”

  “Are you sure?” Tommy asked.

  “Never ask me if I'm sure!” Ashleigh snapped.

  Tommy sighed and took one of the woman's thick arms. She gasped and stared at Tommy with widening eyes.

  “El Diablo,” she whispered.

  “What did she say?” Tommy asked.

  “She called you the devil,” Ashleigh told him.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I get a lot of that.”

  “Sit down and be quiet!” Ashleigh snapped at Esmeralda's mother. The woman sank to the couch, shaking in fear while Tommy held onto her wrist.

  “Tommy will be staying with me for a while,” Ashleigh said, in careful Spanish.

  “Here? In my home?” Esmeralda's mother asked in Spanish. She was staring in terror at Tommy's face. “No, no, no...”

  “Yes, yes, yes,” Ashleigh said. “He is mine and he is staying with me.” Ashleigh smiled at the woman's fear and anguish. Ashleigh could have used her own touch to make the woman feel love instead of fear. That would also have made her more compliant...but this was so much more fun.

  Esmeralda's mother shuddered on the couch and covered her eyes with one hand.

  “I think she gets the point,” Ashleigh said. “Come on, Tommy, let's check out the rest of this dump.”

  Tommy released the woman's arm, but she made no move to stand up. She leaned forward, cupping her face in her hands, weeping in fear.

  Ashleigh followed the short hall out of the living room. There was a bathroom on one side of the hall. She opened the door across from it and walked into Esmeralda's room, which was decorated with posters of Latin soccer stars, many of them shirtless, along with a collection of Day of the Dead masks in one corner. Another corner held a desk stacked with textbooks on mortuary science.

  Tommy closed the door behind them. “How long do you think she'll put up with us?”

  “Longer than we'll put up with her,” Ashleigh said. She opened the closet door. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “This is horrible. Can you see this, Tommy?”

  “What is it?”

  “I hate all her clothes.” Ashleigh pulled a long skirt off a hanger. “Look at this beaded hippie Mexicany crap.”

  “I think you'd look cute in that.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Tommy.” Ashleigh ripped clothes from the hangars, throwing them in a big heap on the closet floor. She left only a few jeans and blouses hanging. “This sucks. We have to get some money and go shopping.”

  “Esmeralda probably won't like you wrecking her closet like that.” Tommy opened an embalming textbook, flipped through some pictures, and winced. “Hey, look, they're reattaching this guy's jaw to his face.” He turned a gory picture toward her.

  “Gross,” Ashleigh said. She folded her arms. “Esmeralda is so gross.”

  “She is not!” Tommy snapped. “And you're just going to make her mad, the way you're acting. Why don't you let her out so she can deal with her mom for us?”

  “Don't tell me how to do shit,” Ashleigh said. “Esmeralda's perfectly happy to curl up inside and let me handle things. That's a lot of responsibility she's putting on me, but somebody has to do it.”

  Tommy didn’t seem convinced, so Ashleigh kept talking.

  “Look.” Ashleigh sighed. “She knew her mother was going to be hostile about us bringing you to live here. She didn't want to deal with it. I'm doing Esmeralda a favor.”

  “If you say so.” Tommy sat on the bed and continued looking through the pictures of dead bodies. “Will Esmeralda come and talk to me now?”

  “Fine.” Ashleigh closed her eyes. This game of make-believe was going to get old fast. She could already tell. She opened her eyes. “Tommy!”

  “Esmeralda.” Tommy smiled at her.

  “Don't talk,” Ashleigh said. She took the book from his hands and tossed it aside, then she straddled his lap. She started kissing him. “I need you,” she whispered.

  “I need you, too,” Tommy whispered in her ear. She pushed his shoulders until he lay on his back on the bed. She pinned his hands down while she kissed him.

  “What about your mom?” he whispered.

  “I am not worried about her.” Ashleigh took off her shirt. He watched as she unhooked her bra and tossed it aside. “Are you ready for me?”

  “I'm ready, Esmeralda,” he whispered, and then he pulled her down on top of him.

  Sucker, Ashleigh thought.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Jenny took Alexander's hand and hopped down from the plane. The night was hot and steamy, and she was immediately covered in sweat. With the fiery landing-light barrels extinguished, the only illumination came from flashlight beams that slashed thin yellow lines across the deep darkness. Overhead, she could see a swatch of night sky brimming with stars, but most of the sky was blotted out by the high, dense treetops. Their landing strip appeared to be hacked out of raw jungle.

  A couple of men hurried to refuel the plane from rusty, extremely unsafe-looking metal drums. Alexander spoke in rapid-fire Spanish to the handful of men around him, and they laughed.

  “This way,” Alexander said. His hand found hers in the dark. “Hold on so you don’t get lost. The rainforest is full of predators.”

  “Sounds great,” Jenny said. She let him lead the way by the thin glow of his flashlight. His hand felt warm and strong around hers, and again she felt the dark electricity of their powers mingling wherever their skin touched. He made something wicked and reckless stir inside her. She should have been terrified at the strange surroundings thousands of miles from home, but his touch extinguished her fears.

  “This way.” Alexander helped her up into the back of a stripped-down Jeep, then sat down beside her. Ahead of them, the driver lit a cigar and cranked up the engine. Jenny could see nothing of the driver except for the glowing tip of the cigar.

  “Wait.” Jenny felt the seat underneath her. “We’re just on a flat metal thing. Where are the seatbelts?”

  “Seatbelts?” Alexander asked. The driver stomped on the gas, and the Jeep surged forward into darkness, fishtailing its way through low-lying limbs that snatched at Jenny’s hair. Jenny screamed and grabbed Alexander’s arm.

  The headlights flared to life, casting dim light on the green mass of trees, limbs and vines surrounding them. They foll
owed a narrow, overgrown trail, bashing through undergrowth along the way. She caught a glimpse of the driver’s battered green cap, his heavy black mustache, his grin around the cigar locked between his teeth.

  Then the lights went out again, but the Jeep seemed to be accelerating, even as it made sharp turns along the winding trail. It skidded sideways at a tight bend, then straightened out.

  “Why did he turn the lights off?” Jenny asked.

  “Lights can make us visible from the sky,” Alexander said. “Not safe to leave them on.”

  “Okay, but—” Jenny let out another gasp as the Jeep charged uphill, pushing her backwards. She flailed out her other arm and caught hold of the roll bar overhead. “Is this safe?”

  “Manuel knows what he’s doing,” Alexander said. He wrapped an arm around Jenny’s waist, though, as if to stop her from flying out.

  “I wish he’d turn the lights on again,” Jenny whispered. Her teeth chattered together as the Jeep bounced and slid its way through the jungle.

  A minute later, the lights did come on again, to reveal that they were tilted at a sharp angle, following a narrow, crumbling dirt trail hacked into a mountainside. Jenny looked down along the steep, rocky slope beside her. If the Jeep toppled over on its side, as it seemed ready to do, it would roll and crash along more than a thousand feet of sheer moonlit rock.

  Jenny closed her eyes again.

  The Jeep plummeted forward like a roller coaster shooting down the first big hill. It slung her back and forth as it descended the steep trail, and then started climbing again. Jenny was starting to feel sick to her stomach, and she was pretty sure their driver was laughing.

  They turned—sharply—onto a wider dirt road, which brought them to a high, uneven rock wall. The Jeep braked to a halt, and the headlights shone on a closed gate in the wall, which consisted of two large doors that appeared to be made of sheet metal. The driver, Manuel, hopped out of the Jeep, leaving the engine running as he approached the gate.