Dead Living (Spirit Caller Book 5)

by Krista D. Ball

  “Nose bleed,” Isabella supplied. “Javi, we clear on your side?”

  “Clear,” Javier called back. He also didn’t look at me. “How is she?”

  “On her feet,” Isabella answered. “Jeremy?”

  “They’ve retreated back to the shoulder of the highway,” he said. “Rach, you okay?”

  “I’m fine, I think.”

  I looked around me in amazement. I knew my jaw was hanging open, but…Manny was right. Have mercy upon my soul.

  We were still around the overturned car. Everyone was spread out, keeping a circle of defence around us. Whoever had weapons had them drawn and at the ready. Dema’s green shield was still around me, hazier than I’d seen her create before, but nevertheless there.

  The Whisperers, however, I couldn’t see. That was because a fucking undead army stood between them and me. I hadn’t just pulled single threads to single spirits; I’d pulled on entire generations of threads.

  Many were simple shades, barely visible to the naked eye. Some were solid. Some…dear ancestors, some I recognized. Mrs. McAvoy and the little girl from the grocery store stood in front of me. The little girl was holding Mrs. McAvoy’s hand. She looked over her shoulder at me and waved with her free hand. Then her smile faded and she went back to staring ahead.

  Thousands of spirits stretched out all around us from several millennia of lives that had walked this area. From the first Maritime Archaic people who walked these lands to the fishermen deemed too valuable to go to Normandy, they were all here. They stood together, as one.

  “Look,” Connie said, pointing straight ahead of us.

  That’s when I saw the shield. The front ranks of the spirits had created a greyish-hued shield of their own spiritual energy, blocking the Whisperers from both my sight and no doubt their influencing abilities. If the Whisperers attacked, those spirits would be the first to give up their eternal existence.

  I didn’t know what happened to them if they were plunged into a sword like Javier or Isabella’s. Would they be aware of their existence? Would they find peace? Or, would it be endless torture? Even Javier didn’t know much about the swords. Only that they were rare and powerful.

  And that most of the people in the world who had them were currently blocking the road.

  “What are they doing?” I didn’t say it to anyone in particular.

  Dema stepped next to me. “We await your word, Spirit Caller.”

  I don’t know what terrified me more in that moment: that I’d called a freaking army of spooks to protect me, or that I was in charge of the freaking army of spooks. Maybe both. Yeah, it was probably both that were equally terrifying me.

  I shambled ahead, Dema’s glow around me. “Excuse me,” I said to Mrs. McAvoy, and all of the spirits turned to part, creating a corridor down the road to our attackers.

  I limped, and didn’t even try to cover it up. I had horrible whiplash, and knew I’d be feeling this for days. My leg was killing me, and while I was pretty sure I had no broken bones, it hurt like I did. Scabs were already forming on my hands from where the tiny pieces of glass had managed to cut through my shirtsleeves.

  But I kept limping toward them, if for no other reason than I needed to do it. Oh, sure, they’d come for Javier and Isabella, but they’d put my life at risk, too. They’d put my friends’ lives at risk. They’d put innocent people who just wanted to bake bread and run their businesses in peace at risk. They might have even put children at risk, and I’d be damned if I was going to let that happen.

  The Whisperer sneered at me. “I thought you didn’t like to call spirits. That you wanted to be a normal little girl.”

  I ignored his little insults. “I do when they threaten my family.”

  He snorted. “These people aren’t your family.”

  “Family is more than just blood!” I shouted. Rage I didn’t know I had boiled within me. “And this is my family! Get off my island and don’t ever come back, or I swear to God I will let all of these spirits possess me until I can take on all of you. Do you understand me? Do not fuck with me.”

  “Or me,” Jeremy said. He stood next to me, a firm stance, Javier’s handgun pointed at the Whisperer’s centre of mass.

  “Me, too,” Manny said. He stood next to me and nodded. He whispered under his breath and twenty spirits immediately appeared around him.

  “I will learn how to turn your brains into pudding,” Connie said sweetly. Damn, she was scary.

  Javier stood with his spirit sword in one hand and his little machine gun pistol James Bond thing in the other. “Well, you know Izzy and I will hunt you until your dying days.”

  “This is a declaration of war,” Brent said. Brent was still looking like shit, from the back seat of the car they’d no doubt stolen.

  “Oh, shut up,” I said. “This is my island. Go fight somewhere else, and leave my friends alone.”

  In the distance, sirens wailed. A lot of sirens.

  “Andrew, Brent, I suggest we negotiate a peace treaty,” Isabella said. “Otherwise, we’re all going to be hauled off to jail.”

  “Jail doesn’t frighten me,” Brent said. He was looking rough. I felt a little sting of guilt, but not enough to go help him or anything.

  Javier grunted. “It will when the rest of the team shows up and hauls you to our jail cells.”

  I glanced at Javier. “You have your own jail cells?”

  Javier gave me a look that clearly said he was trying to be scary and I wasn’t helping. I shut my mouth.

  “We didn’t come here to pick a fight with her,” The female Whisperer said, motioning at me. “We’re here for you two.”

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass,” I said. “Solve this crap. I got potatoes to dig up soon. And those sirens are growing close.”

  “Shit, will this violate my parole?” Manny asked.

  “I’ll cover for ya,” Jeremy said.

  “Thanks, Jeremy.”

  “You’re welcome, kid.”

  “What’s it going to be?” Javier said. “She got you beat. You know that.”

  “You wouldn’t dare have them attack us,” Brent said.

  I looked at Javier and he motioned for me to speak. “All of the province.”

  “Just where you live,” The male Whisperer that Javier called Andrew said.

  “The island,” I countered. “Hurry up, I’m sure they’re flying in snipers from St John’s right now.”

  “In this little backwater place?”

  Jeremy grinned. “Someone’s gotta take the moose down.”

  “Neutral territory then?”

  I nodded. “If you come back here, I will put Dema here in charge of how to hurt you the most.”

  Dema bowed. “I would be honored, Spirit Caller.”

  “We won’t be back.” Andrew looked at his people. “Let’s go.”

  Epilogue

  With Friends Like These

  Nearly two weeks had passed since the stand-off in Bonne Bay and things were returning to order. Jeremy was still filling out reports and giving statements. Coached by Javier and Isabella, his stance remained the same: wrong place at the wrong time. The bad guys were smuggling drugs across the island when one of them recognized Jeremy. They panicked, opened fire, and that’s how it all went downhill from there.

  I thought it was far-fetched at first, but it really did work. Amanda didn’t believe a word of it. She’d never really been interested in asking about the supernatural weirdness that went on around me, and I was rather fine with not volunteering up that information. Besides, the drug story worked well enough.

  The group had ended up at our house most nights to argue out next moves and what the future held for everyone. Jeremy and I made sandwiches, since the gathering was rather impromptu and we didn’t have anything cooked. This was Jeremy’s fault, by the way. Not mine. He’s the cook. Not me.

  Manny and Connie were curled up on my sofa together, looking young and in love. Isabella was leaning against my kitchen counte
r chatting with Mary. Javier and Dema were arguing about the best way to protect me.

  “This will only attract more problems,” Javier was saying. “You need to talk some sense into her, Spirit.”

  Dema’s outfit reminded me of the models I’d seen at the Beothuk exhibit. Caribou dress with caribou hide trousers underneath to keep her legs warm. Thick moccasins lined with fur. Red ochre strategically painted on her outfit. No purple yoga pants, nor silliness. Around Javier, she was all business.

  “Do not demand tasks of me.”

  Javier sipped his mug of instant coffee. “You influence her, so influence her to give up this notion of claiming the area as her territory.”

  Dema gave him a look that I instantly recognized as the “are you really that stupid? Yes, yes, you really are” glare. She crossed her arms. “If I possessed any control over the Spirit Caller, she would have been copulating with the Tall Man years ago before having left him to pursue independent study. Instead, she plans to shackle herself to him.”

  “Don’t be like that, Dema. I’m marrying him, not joining a convent,” I said as I smeared an unhealthy layer of Miracle Whip all over both sides of Manny’s white sandwich bread. I slapped on the cheapest sliced ham we could find and processed cheese slices. Just the way he liked it. “I plan to continue studying, Dema.”

  “You have no discipline and continue to fail at the simplest of tasks,” Dema complained. She looked back at Javier, with what I swore was an I told you so expression. “I have no control over the Spirit Caller.”

  Javier grunted. “Fair enough, Spirit.”

  Dema frowned at that and, after a moment, said, “You may address me as Dema.”

  I glanced over at Javier, who struggled to keep the pleased grin off his face. “Thank you, Dema. You may call me Javier.”

  “I shall call you whatever I please.”

  I snorted. Javier should have known Dema wasn’t going to fall for that one. She didn’t even call me by my name, and I think she liked me. She was a long way away from liking Javier. I cut Manny’s sandwich into four tiny triangles, just the way he liked it. I started on another ham sandwich for him. Teenaged boys sure ate a lot.

  I glanced over at Jeremy’s massive sandwich that had two bites taken out of it. Grown men sure ate a lot, too.

  Dema’s outfit changed, and the purple yoga pants poked out from under her dress. I could still see the hem of her original legs poking out around her ankles. “I shall do all within my power to keep the Spirit Caller safe.”

  “I believe you, Dema,” Javier said gravely. Then he smiled and looked over at me. “Hey, Rachel? I think Dema sees you as her house cat.”

  “I advised the Spirit Caller to get herself a cat, but she does not heed my wisdom.”

  “I miss having a cat,” Jeremy said fondly.

  I arranged Manny’s triangles on a large plate. “We can get a cat if you want.”

  “Two,” Jeremy said firmly. “You can’t just have one cat.”

  “The Tall Man is wise,” Dema said.

  I sighed. “The ancient ghost is giving my fiancé pet advice.”

  “I know many things,” Dema said very seriously.

  “Indeed you do, Dema.” Javier caught my eye and winked at me.

  “So, what’s the plan now?” I dumped mini carrots on the triangle sandwich plate. “Manny! Sandwich’s ready.”

  “Cool, thanks!”

  Manny fetched the plate and I began on the next sandwich for Connie.

  Javier snagged a carrot as Manny walked by. “We’ll be on leave for two months, pending investigation.”

  “That sounds bad,” Jeremy said. He was stacking healthy things on the sandwich he was building, complete with expensive avocados, real cheddar, homemade sliced roast beef, out-of-season tomatoes, three types of expensive greens, real mayonnaise, grainy mustard, and enough pickles to give anyone stomach cancer. He cut it into two triangles, dumped mini carrots in the middle, and handed the plate over to Isabella. She thanked him.

  “Nah,” Javier said. “Standard procedure. We spend so much time on the road that they force us to take time off between assignments.”

  “So what will you do?” I asked. I grabbed the whole wheat bread from off the microwave and smeared mustard over two slices of bread. Then made several circles with ketchup.

  Javier glanced at Isabella out of the corner of his eye. “Izzy prefers me to be elsewhere during our lay lows.”

  “That’s crap,” Isabella said around a mouthful of sandwich. “You should stay in town.”

  “Manny! Eat your carrots,” I said as I passed Javier a Pineapple Crush. I motioned for him to give it to the kid.

  “Yes, Mom,” Manny said and a hint of the surly teenager I once knew came back to life. But he smiled to show he was joking and popped a carrot into his mouth.

  “Isabella’s right. You should stay.”

  I stacked slices of beef, turkey, and ham on to the condiment-decorated bread. I put them on a plate and hit 30 SEC on the microwave. The old beast I’d had since university kicked to life. “Maybe you could help Connie buy a house, now that she’s staying.”

  “Jason Butt is selling his,” Jeremy said. “He’s moving to Fort McMurray.”

  “What’s he going up there for?” I said. “He must know he’s going to hate it.”

  Jeremy shrugged. “Sheila left him for some guy from Roddickton.”

  “What?” I declared. “She didn’t!”

  “Yup, that’s what Amanda told me. She had to go out there because they were fighting over who got what, and the neighbours called to complain.”

  “Damn,” I said. “So, I guess there’s a house available after all.”

  The microwave beeped and Jeremy handed me the warm plate. I stacked lettuce, sliced tomatoes, and hot peppers on top of the bread. I slapped it together, cut it down the middle to make two rectangles, and stuck two pepperonis on the side. I dumped a handful of carrots there, too. “Connie!”

  Jeremy shook his head. “How can you eat that?”

  “I like it,” Connie said defensively.

  “Warm though,” Jeremy complained.

  “It’s the same as a grilled cheese, only faster.”

  “And without the cheese,” Jeremy said.

  “I’m lactose-intolerant,” Connie said smugly. To me, she said, “Thanks, Rachel. You sure know how to make everyone’s favourite sandwiches. Oh, is there any Grape Crush left?”

  Jeremy dutifully opened the fridge and pulled out a purple can of grape goodness. “When I first met Rachel, she couldn’t even fry an egg.”

  I tried defending myself, but it sounded lame even to my ears. “It doesn’t take a genius to make a sandwich.”

  “Yeah, but you remember everyone’s favourite food!” Connie said. “You’re like a mom.”

  “Only cooler,” Manny said.

  “Great. I have children now. Go do your chores.”

  Everyone laughed. I looked over at Mary, who was staring rather fondly at the framed photos on the wall. Some were of me as a kid, but most were of me doing goofy things with Mom and Dad. I didn’t hate her anymore. I’d had a good life. I couldn’t hate her for giving me that life.

  “Mary, did you want a sandwich?”

  “Brown,” she said absently.

  It took me a moment before I realized what she meant. “Oh, sure. There’s some whole wheat left. What do you want on it?”

  “Are they red?”

  I glanced over the countertop and clued in. “Yeah, red onions.”

  She nodded. “Good. Thanks.”

  Isabella leaned in and said Mary liked her sandwiches with everything on them. I went to work making Mary a whole-wheat beef sandwich with all the vegetables including sliced red onions.

  She took the sandwich, while the rest of us chattered and laughed. She took one bite and smiled. “My mom put butter on my sandwiches, too, before they took me away.”

  There was silence in the room. I knew what she was talking
about. Her story was just as common as so many in Mom’s family, and the families of so many of my childhood friends. Young aboriginal children stolen from their homes, often by Mounties or religious figures, and dragged off to residential schools. I felt a pang deep in my soul. I hadn’t realized Mary had been one of those children.

  Isabella smiled and said, very quietly, “Mary, you should stay here for a while. It’ll do you good.”

  “I promised,” she said, and her voice was full of sadness.

  I knew what she meant. I knew the promise she was talking about. So I mustered up my own courage and humanity. “Mary, you should stay.”

  She glanced up from her sandwich. “I promised.”

  “Stay,” I said, and I pushed a smile on my face. “You can stay at Mrs. Saunders’s house. Or Connie’s, if you prefer.”

  “I have loads of room,” Connie said.

  Mary went back to staring at the photographs. “The sofa is fine.”

  Jeremy slipped an arm around me. I leaned my head against his shoulder.

  “Well, I guess I’m staying, too,” Javier said, giving me a wide smile.

  XXXXX

  I could still hear them all inside laughing and talking over one another as they swapped stories. It was all over. All of the drama, all of the worry, all of the soul-wrenching horror. It was over. We would all be left alone from now on.

  I leaned my shoulder against my wood pile and looked at Mrs. Saunders’s house. SOLD was across the sign in big, black letters. I thought I’d be worried or have at least momentary buyer’s remorse. I had none of that. Just the satisfaction of having made a decision and a plan. Getting this place ready to rent wasn’t going to be easy, but we’d get it done.

  I already had the place booked for all of next summer and the autumn. I hadn’t even advertised yet! Just friends of friends who wanted an excuse to see The Rock (the province, not the actor) and my little enterprise was a great place to start. The real work had only just begun, with renovating the place and getting everything up to code over the winter.

  Javier and Isabella decided to stay together in Mrs. Saunders’ house; they were both looking forward to some quiet, uneventful manual labour. I was happy to put them to work soon enough.