A Little Town Called Mercy

by Wendy Saunders

‘My little seashell,’ Jenna reached out and stroked her cheek. Although she felt no pressure, she did feel her skin warm and tingle, ‘I never left you.’

  ‘Ahhh,’ Armand purred in a singsong voice, ‘family… there’s nothing quite like it. Jenna,’ he addressed her directly as if they’d known each other forever, ‘run along now.’

  Jenna’s gaze flicked over to him and she nodded.

  ‘Jenna wait…’ Shelley called out desperately.

  Jenna turned back to her sister.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she smiled as her gaze flickered to the sleeping boy in her arms, ‘I’ll be around.’

  She disappeared, and Shelley let out a shaky breath. Jackson stepped close and wrapped his arms around both Shelley and his son, gathering them in close and holding on tightly, as if he was afraid they’d disappear any moment and he’d lose everything that mattered to him.

  ‘Now,’ Armand turned back to the tear, ‘what to do….’ he murmured thoughtfully, as he once again tapped the pale skull pommel against the deep cleft in his chin.

  Stepping back, he made a great show of pulling up his sleeves, revealing dark intricately winding tattoos along his wrists and forearms. In one hand he held his cane and in the other he conjured a writhing coil of pure silver smoke.

  Olivia blinked in surprise. It wasn’t quite as strong or as potent as the silver Spirit fire she was able to conjure, but there was no doubting the silver smoke came from the same pool of power as her fire. She could feel it; whoever this man was, he was incredibly powerful.

  She watched in fascination as he used his cane like a needle and the spirit smoke as his thread while he patiently stitched the tear back together seamlessly. The room seemed suddenly to be filled with dozens of voices, chanting in a low heavily accented chorus. Finally, he stepped back and with the final stitch in place the voices ceased, and the tear sealed itself, disappearing and plunging the room into complete darkness.

  ‘Shall we have some light Cher?’ Armand’s voice suddenly whispered, so close to Olivia’s ear she jolted in surprise.

  The cellar suddenly burst into a warm golden glow filled with dozens and dozens of candles. Olivia turned toward him, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

  ‘Everyone upstairs,’ she asked him directly, ‘was that your doing?’

  ‘No,’ his mouth curved in amusement, ‘it’s hers.’

  He gestured with his cane and Olivia turned to look.

  The Goddess Diana stood watching Olivia with endlessly patient eyes. Once again, she wore her short forest green smock belted at the waist with a wide leather belt, across her back was her bow and a full quiver of arrows.

  ‘Sister,’ she stepped forward and embraced Olivia warmly.

  Olivia looked up at the Goddess curiously, noting that she no longer referred to her as daughter, but sister, almost as if they were equals somehow.

  ‘I cannot stay long; this place has been damaged enough. I fear it cannot bear my weight for long,’ Diana cupped Olivia’s cheek softly. ‘I brought Armand here, you need to listen to what he has to say. It is important.’

  Olivia nodded and stepped back as Diana turned to Jackson and Shelley.

  ‘My son,’ she stroked Jackson’s jaw, ‘I am very pleased with you.’

  Shelley was watching the exchange with wide eyes. Diana held out her hands and took Miller gently. She gave him a sweet kiss and handed him to Jackson before turning back to Shelley.

  ‘Daughter,’ she murmured softly, ‘your heart is sore. There is no pain like that of a grieving mother. Your child was not to be, and while I know that brings you no comfort, it is the truth.’

  She placed her hand against Shelley’s abdomen and she felt a warmth spread through her body like a hot flush.

  ‘Be at peace,’ she told Shelley softly, ‘your child is safe and happy in the Otherworld. You have another path to walk.’

  She touched her face comfortingly.

  ‘Be fearless,’ Diana whispered before turning her attention back to Jackson.

  ‘I must be quick,’ she told him seriously, ‘my time here grows short. Although this breach is sealed, this is now an in-between place. The veil is gone; it cannot be repaired or replaced. Upon this ground the living and the dead will exist as equals. It is now the responsibility of you and your bloodline.’

  Jackson frowned but nodded as he took in her words.

  Diana stepped back and disappeared, leaving only the faint scent of the forest hanging in the cool damp air.

  ‘Well,’ Armand clapped his hands, ‘now that’s all cleared up shall we get down to business?’

  ‘And what business would that be?’ Jackson frowned.

  ‘You heard her,’ he replied easily, ‘this is now an in-between place, where the Spirit world and the human world overlap. The spirits are a permanent fixture which means steps must be taken.’

  ‘Just hang on a minute,’ Jackson shook his head, ‘who exactly are you?’

  ‘I told you,’ he replied easily, ‘but perhaps some of you may have heard of my sister. She came to this town long years ago and made it her home.’

  ‘Bachelier,’ Olivia whispered in sudden understanding, ‘Clea Bachelier? She was your sister?’

  He inclined his head somewhat regally.

  ‘Who?’ Jackson frowned.

  ‘Clea Bachelier was the former Chief Walcott’s grandmother. It is her cabin out on the opposite side of the lake; she was the one who created the bottle tree,’ Olivia replied.

  ‘The very same,’ Armand sighed, ‘poor Clea.’

  ‘You don’t look old enough to be her brother,’ Olivia replied suspiciously. ‘She died years ago.’

  ‘Ah thank you Cher,’ he grinned, not offering any further explanation.

  ‘Why do you say poor Clea?’ Shelley asked curiously.

  ‘L’Amore Cherie,’ he answered with a soft lilting tone to his voice. ‘Clea came to this place to protect the gateway but she fell in love and in the end, it destroyed her.’

  ‘That’s so sad.’

  ‘It is the way of the world Cher,’ he shrugged, ‘choices have consequences.’

  ‘I still don’t understand,’ Jackson shook his head, ‘what exactly are you here to do?’

  ‘The boy,’ he replied as if it should be the most obvious thing in the world, ‘they’ll be drawn to him.’

  ‘Will they try to take him again?’ Jackson asked in concern.

  Armand spread his hands.

  ‘Maybe,’ he shrugged. ‘I can fix it, so they can’t find him. He’ll still be able to see them, but they won’t be able to see him, at least not until he comes of age. He doesn’t just have the sight, he has great power also.’

  ‘What kind of power?’

  ‘Again, that remains to be seen when he comes of age,’ Armand mused.

  ‘Fine,’ Jackson clenched his jaw, ‘do it.’

  ‘But of course, Cher,’ he smiled widely, ‘you had but to ask.’

  Armand leaned in and pressed the pommel of his cane against Miller’s chest. He began to whisper rapidly; the strange choral voices began once again, and the eyes of the small skull began to glow green. Two wispy tendrils of green smoke snaked from the mouth of the skull and wound up toward Miller’s face, and as he breathed in they disappeared into his nostrils.

  ‘It is done,’ Armand stepped back, ‘now a word of warning.’

  ‘Now you decide to warn us?’ Jackson scowled.

  ‘Cher,’ Armand tutted, ‘pay attention. The boy’s abilities have been bound. He will still be able to see the other side, but they will be unable to find him. However, the binding will only last until his 21st birthday. The closer he gets to manhood the more the binding will weaken. He must learn to control his powers before then or he will be in great danger. Do you understand?’

  For a moment Armand’s eyes seemed to burn pure coal black with ominous warning.

  ‘I understand,’ Jackson nodded.


  ‘Good,’ Armand grinned as jovial as ever. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card, handing it to Jackson who turned it over and stared at it. It was a tarot card, the card which bore the image and title of ‘The Emperor’.

  ‘Give him that card on his 18th birthday,’ Armand told him firmly.

  ‘But it’s just a card?’ Jackson frowned in confusion.

  ‘Is it?’ Armand’s brow rose and with a flash of brilliant white teeth his body was engulfed in a swirl of silver smoke and when it cleared he was gone.

  Frowning Jackson once again turned the card over in his fingers, for a moment it seemed to shimmer and then it was gone. Suddenly there was a loud clatter and commotion upstairs.

  ‘I’m guessing everyone’s awake now,’ Theo stated dryly.

  Fiona cackled and slapped her hands together.

  ‘I don’t know about you lot, but I could use a stiff drink.’

  10.

  ‘Look what survived the massacre,’ Shelley announced triumphantly as she backed carefully through the kitchen doors carrying Miller’s birthday cake.

  Jackson chuckled as she joined him behind the bar, broken glass crunching under her feet as she set it down in front of them.

  ‘Well that’s something I suppose,’ he murmured, as he glanced around the wreckage of the pub.

  Miller was awake now and curled into Jackson’s side, sitting comfortably on his hip, his head resting on his father’s shoulder as he sucked his thumb.

  ‘It’s not as bad as last time,’ Shelley stepped closer to Jackson running her hand down his back comfortingly.

  ‘I guess not,’ he sighed.

  Most of the guests had cleared out. Only Olivia, Theo, Roni, Jake, Fiona and surprisingly enough Dominik were still there.

  ‘Where’s Mac and Tammy?’ Shelley asked, as she too scanned the mess.

  ‘They took Mrs Bailey home,’ Jackson replied absently as he watched his friends in bemusement.

  Dominik sat at the end of the bar, a glass of whiskey in his hand, looking a little wild eyed as he held a conversation with the 1940’s bombshell perched on the seat next to him. Still in shades of grey and looking like a Hollywood screen siren, the dead woman seemed to be enjoying whatever they were talking about as she took a long drag of her cigarette.

  Shaking his head in amusement Jackson tracked his gaze over to Fiona who was sipping from her own glass of whiskey, humming to herself as she absently swept up glass from the floor with a long-handled broom. An old man stood next to her, staring down at her in disapproval. Dressed in some sort of janitor’s uniform and appearing in the same strange black and white shades as the femme fatale at the bar, he began to argue with Fiona. After a few heated moments she gave up and handed him the broom. Jackson’s brow rose in surprise as the ghost grasped the handle of the broom, as if he were real, and started briskly sweeping up the glass.

  Two more spirits, this time in military uniforms walked through the wall, took one look at the devastation in the pub, shook their heads and turned around, walking back through the wall and disappearing again.

  ‘Well, seems like you have a legitimate ghost problem on your hands.’

  Jackson looked at Dominik who had abandoned his companion and now sat thoughtfully in front of the bar, smoking a cigarette.

  ‘Don’t think we’re faking it then?’ Jackson’s mouth curved.

  Dominik chuckled with a small shake of his head.

  ‘Jackson,’ he smiled and this time it was genuine, ‘I think you may have the dubious honor of being the owner of the most haunted pub in North America and I… I have a helluva article to write. This place is going to be swarming with tourists by the time I’ve finished.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Jackson replied ruefully, ‘I have to pay for these repairs somehow, and it’s most definitely not covered on my insurance.’

  Dominik tipped his head back and laughed in honest amusement.

  ‘Don’t worry my friend, we’ll put a donation box at the front…right alongside a personal liability disclaimer.’

  ‘You joke,’ Jackson smiled, ‘but we may need one.’

  Dominik took another long drag on his cigarette.

  ‘You should quit,’ a quiet raspy voice told him, ‘those things’ll kill you.’

  A pale specter, with deeply lined skin and sunken eyes, floated past trailing an oxygen tank behind him. There was a deep gruesome tracheotomy hole at the base of his throat which seemed to expel small wisps of smoke when he spoke.

  Dominik glanced down at his cigarette, dropping it in Fiona’s empty glass as she wandered past.

  ‘So, I guess you’ll be heading back now?’ Jackson asked.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Dominik glanced around the pub, ‘Mercy seems to be growing on me. I think I might stick around for a while.’

  Jackson smiled and turned to Shelley.

  ‘We going to cut the cake then?’ he asked.

  Shelley paused as he looked at her, her heart giving another hard knock against her ribs. She turned to glance around the pub, to Fiona who was now drinking directly from the bottle of whiskey and who had returned to arguing with the ghostly janitor. Her gaze moved on to Olivia and Theo who were straightening the picture frames on the walls as their twins slept soundly in their stroller. Then to Roni and Jake who were picking up upended chairs and tables, returning them to their original positions. Ghostly figures strolled around the room comfortably. A little old woman knitted quietly in the corner as she informed Theo that the picture he was hanging wasn’t straight. He rolled his eyes and moved it again.

  Suddenly Shelley felt like she was on a roller coaster and she didn’t know whether to puke, get off or throw her arms in the air in wild abandon. She turned to look at Jackson and once again her body filled with warmth and all that stress just uncoiled.

  ‘What is it love?’ he asked in puzzlement as she continued to stare at him.

  Her eyes dipped down to Miller curled against Jackson’s chest and her whole being just filled with love.

  ‘I think I figured it out,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Figured what out?’

  She reached out and wrapped her hand around his neck, pulling him down and pressing her lips against his. One of his arms snaked around her waist pulling her in closer as he deepened the kiss. Her other hand traced his jaw and for a second time seemed to slow, she could feel everything fall into place and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was where she was meant to be.

  A sudden protest and a small hand pulled Jackson’s face away. Shelley looked down and let out a laugh as Miller shoved his dad out of the way and leaned forward giving her a wet kiss.

  ‘Are you sure this is what you want?’ Jackson asked her seriously.

  ‘I am,’ Shelley replied softly, ‘I want you,’ she glanced down at Miller who was smiling at her. ‘I want Miller, I want to be here, living all this craziness with you both…’

  She sucked in a deep breath, ‘I love you Jackson,’ she told him seriously.

  Jackson’s smiled widened.

  ‘You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that,’ he leaned in with Miller and as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, Miller reached out and patted her hair happily.

  Shelley smiled down at her boy before turning her gaze back to Jackson.

  ‘Well I’m saying it now, and I’ll still be saying it when we’re old and grey.’

  Jackson ran his fingers through her hair and gripped her neck, pulling her in so he could press his forehead to hers.

  ‘I love you Shelley,’ he breathed heavily.

  She smiled and leaned in to kiss him again, pausing a fraction from his lips when she heard a sudden crunch. They both slowly turned their heads to see Olivia sitting at the bar, shoving a handful of popcorn in her mouth as she watched them raptly. She passed the box to Roni seated next to her, who took a handful as she too stared at Jackson and Shelley, before offering the box to Dom
inik who was sitting next to her with a refilled Whiskey.

  Fiona, Jake and Theo were standing behind them and they were all surrounded by the janitor ghost, the old lady and a couple of others who were watching with interest.

  ‘I totally called it,’ Olivia mumbled around a mouth of popcorn.

  There was a general shuffling and several dollar bills changed hands.

  Jackson and Shelley turned back to each other and laughed.

  ‘Well seeing as we have everyone’s attention, shall we light the cake?’ he smiled.

  Dominik reached into his pocket and pulled out his gold lighter, handing it to Shelley. Smiling at him warmly, she took it and glanced at the faces surrounding her.

  These people were her family. No matter what had happened in the past, they were her future and she could already tell it was going to be a helluva ride. Laughing happily, she leaned forward and lit the candle.

  Part 3

  Storyteller.

  1.

  Roni lay back and closed her eyes, her exposed skin warmed from the sun. The scent of sunscreen filled her nostrils and the soothing roar of the crashing waves lulled her into a half doze.

  ‘This was a great idea,’ Jake’s rumbling voice roused her from her languid state.

  She opened her eyes to glance at him as he lay on a sun bed next to her, wearing nothing but board shorts and a healthy tan. Lifting her hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun she watched him with some relief as he let out a small contented sigh, unaware of her scrutiny.

  She’d worried about him. In the past several months since Jake had discovered his ability to read minds she’d watched as he’d struggled with the weight of such a double-edged gift. In fact, ‘gift’ was such a dubious word. After all, it implied something pleasant, but the opposite had been true; although he wouldn’t admit to it, he’d suffered for it.

  On the surface it would seem to be an enviable ability, the cop who could tell when someone was lying. Not only that but glean all the little details they didn’t want him to know, and in that one respect it had been useful. Unfortunately, more often than not he inadvertently found out things he didn’t want to know.