Raven's Rest (11 page)

“Shit,” Trey muttered. “I’ve got to pee.”

“This isn’t a time for jest,” Jesenia warned him with a frown.

“No, I’m serious. I’ve got to pee.”

We paused while Trey went to the bathroom to relieve himself. Once he’d resumed his seat, I smiled at him. “Told you to go before we started.”

“Shut up.”

Once everyone was back in position, Jesenia closed her eyes. Her face looked odd, lit only by the candle and the little flame she’d allowed in the fireplace. Serene, but eerily pale and unnatural, as if she were made of wax. “We wish to communicate with the spirits who live within the walls of the Raven’s Rest. We wish to speak with Coleman Hollis. Coleman, are you there?”

Nothing happened, and I heard Trey breathe a sigh of relief.

“You mustn’t be afraid. We’re not here to hurt you. We make no demands of you. We only wish to talk with you.”

The candle flame guttered slightly, but that might have been from a draft. I didn’t know how a closed room with no air-conditioning or heating on could have a draft, but I preferred that explanation. My uneasiness amused me a little. I wanted to learn what Coleman had to say, but the séance was making me jumpy, and the butterflies in my stomach were giving me the willies. It was like getting on a roller coaster. You wanted the thrill, but that didn’t stop you from wondering, just as you got at the top of the hill, if you hadn’t make a horrible mistake in judgment.

“Coleman,” Jesenia went on, “Michael here has felt your presence. He’s heard you speak before. Speak to us now, Coleman. Tell us why you’re not at rest!”

“Oh.” Betty Schultz visibly shivered. “I just felt something cold. A breeze against my back. Like someone just opened a refrigerator.”

“I felt it too,” Trey said.

I hadn’t, and that was odd, as Trey was opposite Mrs. Schultz. Maybe whatever it was had gone
through
the table, rather than around it. I did, however, feel a change in the room’s atmosphere. I was certain the four of us weren’t the only presences in the room.

“Someone is here,” Jesenia intoned. “Coleman, is that you?”

The candle guttered again, and this time I knew it was no natural breeze causing the flickering. Part of me wanted to jump up out of my chair and run, being a chicken at heart. Knowing I’d never hear the end of it from Trey kept me rooted to the spot. Besides, this was what I wanted. Answers. I just wish they didn’t come cloaked in the macabre.

And then I heard it. A voice, a mere whisper.

“
Bryan
.”

My gaze darted over to Trey, and I could tell he’d heard it as well. His mouth was hanging open, and his eyes showed fear and awe, mostly awe. I could almost hear him thinking,
No way!
Or was I just projecting my thoughts onto him?

“Coleman, we know that you’re here with us.” Jesenia opened her eyes slowly. “Please speak to us. Tell us what you want.”

“
Bryan
.”

“He thinks I’m his boyfriend, Bryan,” I said softly, not wanting to disrupt the proceedings.

Jesenia nodded, just a slight inclination of the head. “Coleman, this is Michael here with us. Michael Cook. I know you’re confused, because he looks like someone you knew, someone you loved. Do you have a message for Michael?”

“
Not… Bryan….
”

The words were pained and anguished, and it hurt my heart to hear them. I was about to say something, some words to try to ease Coleman’s sorrow if I could, when Betty Schultz muttered, “Oh my God.”

I followed her gaze, as did Trey. Standing behind Jesenia was a figure. At first it was just a shadow, but slowly details began to emerge. Blond hair, prominent nose, melancholy eyes. Coleman Hollis. He appeared to be solid, although the colors were still muted, like he was bathed in moonlight. There was a sad smile on his face, and he was gazing directly at me.

“Holy…,” Trey whispered.

Jesenia didn’t move, but she realized there was something behind her by our reactions.

“Coleman, are you there?”

“He’s there, all right,” Mrs. Schultz said in a weak voice. “I can see him.”

“Coleman, speak to Michael. He knows there’s a message you want to impart.”

The figure didn’t speak, but his face was full of remorse, and he appeared to be crying.

I swallowed hard, then licked my lips. My vocal cords didn’t want to work at first, but I forced some words out. “Coleman, I’m not Bryan. I know you loved him. I’d like to help you, if I can.”

“
Where is he? Where is Bryan?
”

“I don’t know. Maybe I can help you find him.”

Trey muttered, “Holy shit.” He couldn’t take his eyes off the figure. None of us could, save Jesenia, who was watching my face.

“
Where’s Bryan?
”

I realized the words were there, but Coleman’s lips never moved. I wondered if the others could hear him, or if the words were only in my head. Trey answered my question by saying, “Oh my God, he sounds so sad.”

“We want to help you, Coleman,” I said. “Tell us what you need.”

The spirit’s face went from distressed to angry. His lips curled, and he let out a loud roar, full of inconsolable grief. As he did, the table jumped beneath our hands, just a little at first, but then it shot up several inches off the floor. All of us jumped back in shock. Mrs. Schultz put her fingers to her lips to try to keep from crying out as the candlestick overturned, the wick extinguished.

Everything seemed to happen at once. The table dropped back down with a crash, and the candlestick rolled off, clattering to the floor. The tiny gas fire suddenly erupted into a blaze, and I could hear the scrape of furniture on the floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I realized it was the writing desk, shooting several feet in our direction. The curtains billowed—even though I could see the window was shut tight—and the blinds crashed to the ground. Betty Schultz screamed, and Trey shouted something. Jesenia, a worried look on her face, was saying something to Coleman, who had now vanished, trying to calm him. The books on the shelf—a Bible, a dictionary, and a volume of inspirational quotes—went flying across the room. I had left my keys and money clip and a few other things on top of the entertainment center, and these scattered, as if brushed away by an invisible hand. The door to the bathroom slammed shut with enough force to shake the walls.

My chair suddenly shifted under my weight, and I felt it falling backward. I flailed, trying to keep it from falling—and me with it—but it overturned, and the wind was knocked out of me as I hit the floor. I lay there awkwardly, my legs tangled with those of the chair, and tried to catch my breath.

Then the room dimmed once more as the fire in the fireplace went back to the level we’d set it at, and everything was quiet, save for Mrs. Schultz’s weeping.

Jesenia stood and put a hand on her chest, as if trying to quiet her heartbeat. “Trey,” she said softly, “would you get the lights, please.”

He ignored her, coming to my side instead. He helped me up, asking, “Are you okay?”

“I think so. Sort of.”

“Oh my God,” Mrs. Schultz whimpered. “I had no idea. I didn’t think… I had no idea it would… I didn’t think this would happen.”

Jesenia seemed barely ruffled, compared to the rest of us, although even her voice was strained. “You never know what’s going to happen once you begin a séance. Opening the veil like that, well, it can be tricky.” She put a hand on Mrs. Schultz’s shoulder. “Are you going to be all right, Betty?”

Mrs. Schultz sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I’m fine. I think. Just shocked, I guess. I thought we might hear a knock or two, maybe feel a cold spot. I never dreamed I’d see….”

Once he was sure I hadn’t broken anything, Trey went over and switched on the lights. We all blinked as we surveyed the damage. The table was scratched where the candlestick had fallen, like it had been savagely drawn across the woodwork. The books were lying, one of them open, a good five feet away from the shelf. My coins and keys were all over the place. The blinds were in a heap at the window’s base.

“Well, that was interesting,” Jesenia said to no one in particular.

Trey returned and put an arm around me. He was shaking. Or maybe I was. It was hard to tell.

“Interesting?” Mrs. Schultz laughed hollowly. “That’s an understatement.”

“I think I have to pee again,” Trey said, forcing a chuckle.

My heart was beating fast, and I was breathing as if I’d just run a mile. There was sweat on my brow despite the chill in the room. One arm was around Trey, but I kept the other on my chest, just in case the old ticker tried to give up and just stop. “I know one thing,” I said.

“What’s that?”

I looked at Trey. “I’m staying at your place tonight.”

I OPENED
my eyes in the morning and saw Trey lying next to me, his face beautiful in repose. Sleeping soundly, he resembled a cherub from some old tapestry—angelic face untroubled by care. Okay, few cherubs were depicted as having long black locks and, yes, still visible scratch marks on his cheek—red welts that were, thankfully, looking less painful. To me, though, he was beauty itself.

As I watched him, Trey opened one eye. “Okay,” he mumbled, still groggy from sleep, “you’re watching me sleep. That’s fucking creepy.”

I smiled. “Sorry. Won’t do it again.”

“No, feel free. I like creepy. I’ve embraced the creepy in my life. Bring on the creepy. Mind you, no more séances. Not for, oh, say, another fifty years or so. By then it won’t be so surprising when I wee in my pants.”

“You didn’t—”

“Felt like it, though.” He propped himself up on one elbow and stroked my cheek. “You were fantastic last night.”

“I was about to say the same about you.”

He leaned in until our lips touched. His breath was slightly sour, but I didn’t care.

“Wanna do it again?” he whispered.

I flicked the covers down so we could have better access to each other. We were both naked and hard. As we kissed our bodies melded together. “What do you think?”

“I think,” he said, our lips brushing as he spoke, “that you’re going to be pretty good for me, Michael Cook.”

I touched his cheek gently. “Even though things like this happen when I’m around?”

His smile was wicked. “A little scratch won’t keep me away from you.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot. You’re a tough guy.”

Eyes sparkling, he forced me onto my back. Slipping on top of me, he kissed me hard, one hand on my neck and the other slowly moving down my side. “You bet your ass I am.”

“You keep saying you are, but so far all I’ve seen is Trey the pussycat.”

“Oh? You wanna see Trey the tiger? You ready for that?” he laughed.

“I’m more than ready.”

Trey slammed his weight against me, making me wince just a little.

“You asked for it, remember!”

I had to say, as much as I liked Trey the pussycat, there was something really enticing about Trey the tiger.

“SO DO
you think they know we just fucked?” Trey asked, nodding back to the old couple we’d just passed on the sidewalk.

“How do you know they haven’t as well?”

Trey’s face scrunched in disgust. “Ah! Old-people sex! Shit, man! Now I’ve got wrinkly dudes doing it in my head! Thanks for the image, Michael!”

We were heading for the Raven’s Rest, although we were taking the scenic route. Trey needed to stop by the convenience store for cigarettes, and I needed a soda. After the séance, Mrs. Schultz had been afraid I’d just up and leave, especially after my statement that I was sleeping over at Trey’s, but I’d assured her my absence would only be for the one night. She promised to have Lonnie fix the room back up before my return, although the only real damage had been to the blinds. The scratch on the table was there for good, much too deep to be repaired. Something told me that when, in a few days’ time, I finally checked out of the Raven’s Rest, the next guest would find a new table in place.

We were about to enter Casey’s Convenience Store when someone emerged and Trey and I had to step back to allow them room. It took me a moment to realize I’d seen the man before. He’d been the guy at McDonald’s who had looked at me with shock on his face. And now that I thought about it, he’d asked if my last name was Finn.

As in Bryan Finn, Coleman Hollis’s lover.

And again, the man’s eyes grew wide as he saw me and Trey. “Excuse me,” he muttered, and he barreled between us, making his way to an old pickup in the parking lot.

Trey just shook his head, excusing the man’s rudeness, but I stood and watched as the man climbed into his vehicle. “Who is that guy? I’ve seen him before.”

“Don’t you know? That’s Darryl Hollis. He used to own the property that’s now the Raven’s Rest. He was Coleman’s father. I wonder how he’d feel if we told him we saw the ghost of his son last night.”

“You’re kidding! That’s Coleman’s….” I took a deep breath and let it out. “No wonder he asked if my last name was Finn. He knew Bryan, years ago. Seeing me must have dredged up some old memories.”

Darryl Hollis was backing up, but we could see that his gaze hardly strayed from us as he maneuvered the truck. He didn’t look happy.

“He always said that Coleman ran off, left town,” Trey said. “We know he didn’t.”

“No. He died.”

Hollis pulled out of the lot and gunned his engine as if he couldn’t get away from us fast enough.

“I just got shivers up and down my spine,” Trey said.

“Do you think he…?” I didn’t need to finish the question.

Trey shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to take any bets on it. I never did like that dude. Grouchy old bastard. Even Mom doesn’t like him, and she likes everybody.”

We bought Trey’s cigarettes, and we both got Cokes. Back outside, we sipped as we resumed our walk. Trey lit up, his eyelids fluttering as he took his first drag.

“God, that’s nearly as good as sex with you,” he said.

“Thanks, I think.”

“So what do you have on the agenda this afternoon?”

I swallowed some more Coke. “Well, I’d better find a furniture store and do some shopping. They’ve accepted my application, so if I’m moving into an apartment next week, I’ll need some things. Like a bed. And somewhere to sit.” The enormity of starting a life from scratch started to overwhelm me. “Shit! And a television! And what about cable? And I bet I have to get the electric bill switched to my name. And how am I going to pay for all this? My savings is—”