The Fourth Power

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Heather knew he was panicked and ranting in worry, so she let him talk. There was no right way to handle a situation like this. Martin had been through a lot in a short time. Finding proof of the supernatural would be hard for anyone to process.

  Heck, she’d known ghosts were real her entire life, and, recently, even she’d been apprehensive at the idea that she might not be able to see all of them. For a regular guy, Martin was handling it better than most.

  The truck took a corner a little too fast, and Heather slid on the seat closer to him.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Martin whispered, frustration seeping from him.

  “Yes, you do,” Heather said calmly, touching his arm in an attempt to comfort him a little. “You’re a good father, Martin. You’re going to find her like you always do. Then you’re going to tell her what happened tonight, and that you believe her, and that you’re sorry you didn’t before. You’re going to tell her that you love her no matter what.”

  Martin nodded. He sped toward Anderson House.

  “You’re not alone in this anymore. Viv, Lorna, and I will help you,” Heather continued. She tried to push past the knot in her chest as images tried to surface of the night she’d lost her son. It was impossible not to feel that same fear as Martin searched for his daughter.

  They neared the house. Martin pulled the truck along the curb, stuck it in park, and jumped out while the engine was still running. He ran toward the front door. “Jan!”

  He tried to pull it open, but the door was locked.

  Heather looked up toward the third story. The house was dark.

  Martin came back down the steps only to run around the side of the house. “January, answer me!”

  Heather followed him to the back door. He pulled at the handle, but it was locked as well. “I don’t see my brother’s truck. Where else would she go?”

  “I don’t…” Martin frowned. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I don’t know. Home maybe? I think I need to call the police.”

  Heather didn’t stop him. The more people out looking, the better.

  His hand shook as he dialed. “What if there was an accident? What was she thinking?”

  The glow of headlights caught their attention, followed by the sound of a revved motor. Martin stopped mid-dial and ran toward the front of the house. “January!”

  William pulled along the curb in her car and rolled down the driver’s side window. “Heather, we need to go. Mom called. No one could get ahold of you, so they called her, and she called me.”

  “Did they find her?” Martin asked. “What happened?”

  William shook his head.

  “Who called her?” Heather asked.

  “The fire department. They’re at your house. It’s on fire. A neighbor called it in.” He didn’t get out of the car. “Lorna and Vivien are on their way there. I told mom to let them know you’re not in the house so no one tries to go in looking for you.”

  “But…” Heather glanced between William and Martin as she processed what he was saying.

  “You go,” Martin said. “I need to find my daughter.”

  “It’s just a house. I’ll deal with it later,” Heather said, unable to fully process what was happening. Stress manifested as a tear and rolled down her cheek. She thought of her son, of Jan, of the fear that choked her and made her want to vomit. “We need to find Jan.”

  “I’m going to check my house,” Martin said. “Hopefully she went home.”

  She thought of the picture Jan had drawn of Heather crying as Old Anderson House went up in flames.

  “Omigod,” Heather whispered before shouting, “The house. Jan!” She ran toward the truck. “I think she might be at my house.”

  “Why would she go there?” Martin asked.

  “Just trust me,” Heather said. She waved at her brother. “Go, go! Tell Viv.”

  William took off as they jumped in Martin’s truck.

  Heather motioned after William. “Follow him.”

  Martin threw the truck into gear and sped after William.

  “Did you get a message from a ghost?” Martin asked. “Is Jan all right?”

  “I think Jan left me the message,” Heather answered. With all of the emotions flooding her, it was difficult to explain. “We found this drawing she did of me standing in front of a fire.”

  “What? When?” Martin demanded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “The other day at Anderson House,” Heather said. “I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Then you caught us holding a séance, and Jan was upset because we sent her friends away, and I guess I forgot about it. A creepy picture didn’t seem all that important.”

  Martin gripped the wheel as he followed William down her street. Heather leaned forward in her seat and looked up. An orange glow in the sky from the fire acted like a beacon in the night. The flash of emergency responder lights bounced off the trees as they rounded a curve.

  Heather’s heart nearly dropped. Flames engulfed the back of her house. Neighbors had begun to gather across the street.

  She was so stunned, focusing on her burning house, that she almost missed William’s truck along the side of the road, parked halfway onto the sidewalk. She pointed at it. “William’s truck. Jan’s here.”

  Martin was forced to pull over as the emergency vehicles blocked the road. He shut off the engine, and they jumped out of his truck. Heather ran to William’s truck and looked inside. Jan was not inside.

  “She’s not here,” she said, before yelling, “Jan! Can you hear me?”

  Even as Heather said the words, she began moving toward her house. She searched the crowd for the child as she half walked, half jogged toward the fire trucks. Some of her neighbors tried to get her attention, but she couldn’t hear their words over the sound of her heart pounding in her ears.

  “Do you see her?” Martin asked.

  Heather shook her head. Seeing her brother near a fire truck talking to a police officer, she hurried over to him.

  “—a girl inside the house,” William was saying. “She’s about ten. We can’t find her.”

  “What happened?” Heather asked, recognizing the officer. Bacuzzi had been a few years ahead of her in school. No one had been surprised when he joined the police force. It would have either been that or a military career.

  “We’re not sure,” Officer Bacuzzi answered. He held up his finger and grabbed the radio on his shoulder. As he rushed away from them, he said, “Be advised, we have possible reports of a ten-year-old girl inside the house.”

  Almost instantly shouts sounded as the firefighters received the news.

  “Did you see my truck?” William asked. “She’s here.”

  “Heather,” Vivien’s voice called. She and Lorna came from the crowd. “Did you find her?”

  Heather shook her head. Martin pushed past them, trying to get closer to the fire as he looked frantically around.

  “The drawing,” Heather said.

  “We thought of that too.” Lorna crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself in concern.

  A tear rolled down Heather’s cheek. “You don’t think she’s in there, do you?”

  Heather hated to lose her house, but it was just a house. That wasn’t what was important.

  “No,” Vivien said, though she didn’t sound confident in the answer.

  “There has to be something we can do.” Lorna dropped her arms. “What is the point of having magic if we can’t use it right now?”

  Heather looked at the crowd.

  “She’s right,” William said. “You have to try it. Who cares if the whole town sees you?”

  Coming from William, who had always shied away from talking about the family secret, that was a huge statement. Heather knew he felt guilty over losing Jan while he was responsible for her.

  “Over there.” Vivien pointed to a shadowed area down the street where they could hide behind a few bushes.

  “William, find Martin,” Lorna said.
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  The three women ran until they were under a tree, hidden mostly from view. They joined hands, feeling the magic surge between them. Their hair lifted from their shoulders.

  “If anyone is here with us, show yourself,” Vivien ordered.

  “We’re looking for a little girl,” Heather added, talking to what looked to be empty space. “Please, if anyone is here, we need your help. The girl’s name is Jan. She’s special, like us. Maybe you’ve talked to her? Maybe you’ve seen her? We need your help.”

  “Left, left,” a fireman shouted.

  “Oh, now you want to talk.”

  Heather stiffened. “Did you hear that?”

  “No,” Vivien and Lorna said in unison.

  “Who’s there?” Heather demanded.

  The erratic ghost who’d followed her into Anderson House appeared. The last time Heather saw her, she’d told the woman to buzz off. The spirit had not been too pleased with her.

  “Like, why should I help you? You totally couldn’t be bothered to talk to me when I tried to tell you that my husband shoved me overboard so he could be with his mistress. She’s grody to the max.” The ghost placed her hands on her hips. “I bet you don’t even remember my name.”

  “You never gave it to me,” Heather said. “What’s your name?”

  “Who is it?” Lorna asked.

  “Can they help?” Vivien insisted.

  Her friends couldn’t see the spirit without a proper séance.

  Heather didn’t answer them. The ghost was difficult to hear on a good day, and with the roar of the fire and the shouts of the firefighters, it became nearly impossible. She let go of her friend’s hands and angled her ear toward the ghost.

  “Muffy,” the spirit answered.

  “Muffy, help me now, and I promise I will help you in any way that I can,” Heather stated. The fact the one spirit that had answered the call for help looked and sounded like a California party girl from the 1980s was not comforting in the least. But they didn’t have a choice. Beggars could not be choosers.

  “Can’t and won’t. That is what you said to me. I both can’t and won’t.”

  “Did you do this?” Heather demanded. So help Muffy, if she was behind the fire and the threat to Jan’s life, Heather would stop at nothing to exorcise her ass into the darkest regions of the afterlife. It couldn’t be a coincidence that this was the spirit who showed up as soon as they called out to the other side. “Did you lead Jan here and start this fire to get back at me?”

  “Can’t and won’t,” Muffy repeated, hands on hips.

  “Answer me now,” Heather ordered. “Did you do this?”

  “I only made a few phone calls. This disaster is not my fault.”

  That is why her phone had been ringing all night? Somehow, that explanation fit what little she’d seen of Muffy’s personality.

  “Can’t and won’t,” Muffy grumbled, tossing her head back and forth to enunciate her anger.

  “But you can. I need you to look into the house and tell me if a little girl is trapped anywhere. Please, she needs your help. Do not punish her because you’re angry at me.”

  “Do you think that I would hurt a little girl to get even with you? You think very highly of yourself. Maybe you should, like, look into that.”

  “I will,” Heather said.

  The ghost huffed and then disappeared.

  “Well?” Vivien asked.

  “We need to find someone else.” Heather held out her hands so they could retry. “I have a feeling Muffy the ghost will probably stop off at the mall first.”

  More shouts came from the firefighters.

  “She’s not there.” Muffy reappeared.

  Heather gave a small jolt of surprise, pulling her hands away to turn back around. Muffy stood with her hands on her hips and a superior look on her features.

  “What?” Lorna prompted.

  “Muffy said she’s not—”

  A burst of flames lit the sky as something exploded. Heather cried out in fear.

  “Jan!” Martin’s shout came from beyond the trucks.

  “Stop that man,” someone ordered.

  “Are you sure?” Heather demanded, facing Muffy. She wished she could grab onto the ghost and shake the answers out of her. Tears rolled down Heather’s face. “You have to tell me. Did you look everywhere? Her name is January. She’s this tall.” Heather held out her hand.

  “Please help us,” Vivien added even though she couldn’t see or hear the ghost.

  “She has dark hair and is a little shy,” Heather continued. “Right now she’s probably feeling very alone. We have to find her. We—”

  “Ugh, you talk so much.” Muffy held up her hands. “I don’t, like, know if it’s her or whatever, but a girl is hiding out, crying.”

  “Where?”

  Muffy pointed toward a neighbor’s yard.

  “She’s over there,” Heather said. “Find Martin and William and let them know.”

  Vivien and Lorna ran to look for Martin. Heather pushed through a row of shrubbery to cross into her neighbor’s backyard. In the evenings, their boxer was tied up by the doghouse, but she didn’t see the dog running the yard like he usually did.

  “Jan, are you out here? January, it’s me, Heather.” Heather searched the bushes. “Sweetheart, if you’re here, I need you to answer me.”

  A thump came from within the doghouse. Heather instantly went to investigate. She leaned over, trying to see inside. The boxer laid on what looked to be a lap. It was hard to make out details in the darkness.

  “Jan? We’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Heather kept her voice soft.

  The leg shifted, and the dog lifted its head.

  “Jan, honey, I need you to come out. Everyone is so worried about you. Your dad’s looking for you right now. He’s so scared.” Heather soothed.

  The boxer roused and came out of the doghouse. He wagged his tail as he came toward Heather for attention. She petted him to keep him from jumping on her.

  “I can’t,” Jan answered, the word sounding strained as if she held back tears. “Dad’s going to be so mad at me. I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to. He made me promise.”

  “Who? Who made you promise?” Heather inched closer. “Your dad? If he’s mad, I’m sure it’s just because he cares for you so much and was worried when you ran off. He loves you so much.”

  Jan poked her head out of the doghouse and looked at her. Tears streaked her cheeks. Her eyes and nose were red.

  “Not my dad.” Jan crawled out. She cradled her hand against her stomach. A bit of blood stained her t-shirt.

  “Did you hurt yourself?” Heather reached for her. “Let me see.”

  Jan held out her hand to show where she’d cut herself. It appeared deep.

  “How did this happen?” Heather lightly pushed the boxer away as he playfully tried to jump between them.

  Jan shrugged and moved to pet the dog.

  “Did you have something to do with the fire?” Heather asked.

  Jan kept her attention on the animal. Tears filled her eyes, and she moaned softly.

  Heather gently took her arm and pulled her from the dog’s reach. The boxer bounced around, softly whining as he wanted them to play. The dog lived in a family with three children and had plenty of playmates during the day.

  “I need you to tell me the truth,” Heather said. “I promise I won’t be angry if you tell me what happened tonight. But we do need to talk about this. Stealing trucks and setting fires is not okay. Someone could’ve gotten seriously hurt, or worse. You could have been killed.”

  “It was him.” The girl lifted her hand and pointed behind Heather. “He made me promise to help him.”

  Heather turned to look. She caught a glimpse of a figure before Martin, Vivien, Lorna, and William came through the hedge. The ghostly figure disappeared but not before she saw her son’s face.

  Heather pushed her feet in desperation. She ran to where the ghost had been. “Trav
?”

  His name barely made it past her lips as it stuck in her throat. Her heart pounded, and she couldn’t breathe. She shook violently, caught between hope and agony.

  Her son.

  Travis.

  Her sweet boy.

  This time she was positive she had seen him. She recognized the striped shirt he’d been wearing the day he died and the torn jeans. The rip had been from falling off his skateboard. Man how they had fought over that. She’d been so angry because they were school clothes. It all seems so stupid now.

  “Jan…” Martin’s word trailed off as he ran to his daughter. Heather didn’t turn around to look, but she didn’t need to. She knew the relief he had to be feeling. It was the relief she had dreamed about but had never gotten for herself. When they found her son, the ending had been a much different story.

  “Heather, what is it?” Vivien came to where Heather stood near the bushes blocking the way back to her house.

  “You found her,” William said, sounding relieved.

  “Do you feel that?” Lorna lifted her hand toward Heather as she spoke to Vivien.

  Heather knew they were detecting the pain that radiated off her. She didn’t care. She couldn’t hide it or bury it deep inside. She had seen her son’s face. He had been here.

  And he disappeared when she saw him.

  He didn’t want to see her.

  Was he angry at her?

  Had he been around the entire time?

  Did he blame her for not taking care of him, as she had spent the last decade blaming herself?

  She was his mother. She had one job. It was her responsibility to keep him safe. She had failed. How could she fault him if he blamed her?

  “Trav?” she whispered. The salt of her tears filled her mouth as they wet her lips.

  Heather sobbed, crying out in pain. Vivien grabbed hold of her shoulders when she would fall to the ground.