The Lingering Dead (17 page)

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Authors: J. N. Duncan

BOOK: The Lingering Dead
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Nick looked over her shoulder at the spot on the bed where she had sat. “Did it do something to you?”
“No.” Jackie let out a long, shaky breath. “It was trying to come through, I think. It talked.” Her whole body was trembling now, and Jackie leaned back against Nick for support. “Damn it, Nick. It wants me for something.”
“Shit.” Shelby stood up from the floor. “Clearly, we have to figure out what to do about that thing.”
Jackie laughed. “Yeah, well I'm open to suggestions, other than going over and having a chat.”
Nick's hand settled on her shoulder. “I don't know. We have no idea what we're dealing with.”
She walked over and grabbed another beer. “All I know is that ghosts on the other side are terrified of it. That's enough for me.”
Shelby sighed, clearly frustrated—mostly, Jackie suspected, from losing her opportunity with Laurel. “I vote for some sleep. It's going to be a long day tomorrow.”
Sleep? Jackie's heart rate had yet to return to normal. “Probably a good idea. I'm stepping out for some air first.”
“I love you, baby,” Shelby said, looking Jackie in the eye.
Jackie turned away. “She loves you, too, and I really wish you'd stop doing that, Shel. It weirds me out.”
Shelby reached out and turned Jackie's face back to her own, smiling and kissing her briefly. “I love you, too, so don't feel bad.”
“Gee thanks,” Jackie said, shaking her head and walking toward the door. “Stepping out now.”
She does,
Laurel said.
She likes you a great deal.
I know. It's just odd having her look at me to look at you, and the way she looks. It's unnerving.
Laurel chuckled.
I love that look. It makes me all squishy inside.
Just try not to squish on me while you're in there, OK?
 
 
Jackie stepped out of the main lobby, stood outside the main door, and sipped on her beer. The cool air felt wonderful on her face. Sadly, there was little to look at for soothing her nerves, with an Olive Garden across the parking lot on one side and a doctor's office on the other. The wet asphalt reflected streetlights, but at least it was not raining.
How had life gotten so strange? Who knew it actually drifted so far from the center? Six weeks ago, she was just a plain old FBI agent, catching bad guys. Now her partner lived in her head, she was trying to date a vampire, and she was dealing with a town full of ghosts. Who had fucked with the highway signs of life and sent her down this dark, freak-show road?
The sliding entry door came to life, making Jackie jump. Nick stepped up beside her, beer in hand. “How are you doing?”
“I'm fine, for now at least,” she said. “It's just ... I don't know, Nick. This thing on the other side, it scares me. Ghosts and vampires, I can deal with, or at least I'm beginning to, but this? I don't like things I can't make sense of. At least ghosts and vampires are human.”
“Me either,” he said and draped an arm around her shoulders. “Would it help if I said that thing scares me, too?”
She laughed. “Not really. You and Shelby are supposed to be the experts on this dead stuff.”
“It might not be dead,” he replied. “You're a living soul that can open the door to the dead. It's a unique ability, and I'm wondering if whatever it is can sense that.”
“What are you saying?”
“I'm not sure,” he said. “I'm just hypothesizing, trying to figure this out, but I wonder if it wants you for what you can do.”
She turned and looked up at him. “You think it wants to come here? To cross over?”
“Maybe. I don't know, but it's certainly a possibility. Perhaps it's trapped there.”
“God.” Jackie drained down the last half of her beer. “I can't imagine letting that thing loose among the living. Who knows what it is or what it can do?”
“Exactly,” he replied. “But, if it were here, maybe we could deal with it.”
“Or not,” Jackie said. She tried to wipe the image of those glowing green eyes from her mind. “Do you want to take that chance?”
“No,” he said. “I don't, but I don't want you living in fear for the rest of your life either.”
“Shit.” Jackie had not even gone there. She laughed nervously. “Thanks for that. I hadn't even considered that it might never leave me alone.”
He reached up, cupping her cheek with his hand, and Jackie leaned into the comfort of it. “We'll figure it out. Somehow.”
“I hope so.”
Nick leaned down and kissed her, soft and fleeting. “We will.”
Jackie opened her eyes, staring up into the depthless, faint glow of his. Nick's stolid, firm voice always sounded reassuring, no matter what was said. “Again?”
He smiled, a soft curl of his mouth. “We will,” he said and kissed her again, longer and deeper than the last.
Chapter 16
Who were they? Charlotte continued to brush through Rebecca's hair, yanking through the tangles and ignoring her gasps of pain. Ma-ma and Pa-pa were downstairs polishing and dusting things that did not need it in order to avoid her wrath. Carson said they were a group of ghosthunters, come to check out Thatcher's Mill, but this was no ordinary group of hunters, if that was even what they were, not when one was a former FBI agent. Ghosthunters did not come to town with their own ghosts either, especially one as self-aware as that one had been. That one had actually
seen
her and bolted the moment she realized that she had been recognized.
That meant she likely knew what Charlotte was. The living were easy enough to dupe, but the dead knew. They could feel it. That reporter was convinced they were using the ghosthunter guise as a cover for something else. So why else would they be here if not to investigate her? If the FBI were somehow involved, then some serious problems could be coming her way. People like that had access to information, and Charlotte knew that a little digging into the town of Thatcher's Mill would turn up a lot of strange things, like why the Thatchers had two daughters they shouldn't actually have.
“Ow, Sis!” Rebecca finally yelped after Charlotte pulled through a particularly stubborn tangle.
“Hush,” she replied into her ear. “Quit being such a baby.”
“Are you still angry with me?”
Charlotte sighed. “No. I wasn't angry with you in the first place. I was angry at the woman who came to the door.”
“Do you really think she's here to take me away?” Rebecca asked in a quiet, fearful voice.
Charlotte smiled and kissed the soft, exposed part of Rebecca's shoulder. “I was just upset when I said that. I'm not really sure why she was here, but I can't discount that possibility.”
“But why?” she replied. “Why would she want to take me away from my family? I haven't done anything wrong, have I?”
Charlotte swallowed the warm knot in her throat. Jessica had become one with her so much easier than many of the others. It was as though she truly did belong. The effort required to entrench the belief that this was truly her family and where she belonged had been slight. Jessica wanted to be here, wanted to be Rebecca, and that had always been half the battle. There were times, especially late at night when they each lay in their beds after the lights had been turned off, and they talked in quiet voices about the mundane activities of the day or when they might again go for a ride on the motorcycle or walk up through the woods to where the stream fed into a pool, and they could lose their clothes and splash each other in the cold waters, that Charlotte could almost forget that this was not the real Rebecca. It had been so long since she had found someone who slipped so easily into the new persona.
She was probably ready, if it came to that, to try the next step and become her sister in the way that mattered most. Charlotte had hoped for more time, had wanted more, but these strangers in town were threatening that. If they somehow managed to find out who Rebecca really was, then they might bring her real mother here, and when Jessica failed to recognize her or have any interest in going back to her old life, things would become difficult. Worse, Rebecca might want to return to being Jessica, and that would not be allowed to happen. Not when her best chance at having her sister back in fifty years had come along. Charlotte would not allow that to happen.
Charlotte set the brush down on the bed. “You've done nothing wrong at all, Sis. They have no reason to take you away from me. Unless, of course, you would want to go.”
She turned to look at Charlotte with a wide, watery stare. “I would never leave you. I'd rather die!” Rebecca threw her arms around Charlotte and hugged her tightly, sniffling into her shoulder.
“You're so sweet,” Charlotte said and kissed her head. “We'll be together forever, Sis. I would kill anyone who tried to take you away.”
“Oh! I would, too,” she said, pulling her head up. “You're the only thing in the world that matters to me.”
Charlotte reached up and brushed the tear off of Rebecca's cheek with her thumb. “Likewise.”
Perhaps it was time after all. Why take the chance these people would find nothing and leave them alone? She thought the likelihood of that to be low. One did not come to Thatcher's Mill by happenstance to look for ghosts. Everything added up to them focusing on her, which meant they would have to be dealt with somehow, preferably a subtle little influence to leave town. And if they did find out who she had here at her house and everything blew up in her face? If she couldn't take them down, then she might be forced into the unthinkable situation of leaving and starting over.
No. She knew without a doubt that starting over was not an option. This life, this place, these people were hers. If someone was going to try and take that away, then she would take them all down with her. The end of her would be the end of Thatcher's Mill.
“What are you thinking, Sis?” Rebecca asked, wiping at her tear-filled eyes.
“A lot of things,” she replied absently. Her gaze refocused on Rebecca. “How much do you love me, Bec? I mean, really, how much?”
Her big, brown eyes blinked several times in silence. “More than anything,” she whispered.
Charlotte took Rebecca's face in her hands. “More than life itself? Would you be willing to die for me?”
There was only the briefest hesitation. “More than anything,” she repeated.
She kissed Rebecca hard on the mouth. “Good. You are my sister in blood. Do you want to be my sister in spirit, too?”
The wide-eyed stare narrowed. “But we are sisters in spirit. I don't understand what you mean.”
“It means ...” She slid her hands down and took Rebecca's in her own. “It means that I died for you once, a long time ago, but I came back because I could not leave you behind. I loved you so much that even death could not take me.”
Rebecca blinked away tears, her lower lip trembling. “I would die for you. Our bond is stronger than death.”
She squeezed Rebecca's hands. “Do you believe so? Truly?”
She nodded emphatically. “How could death be stronger than love?”
Charlotte smiled and wiped a tear off her own cheek. “So very true, Sis. So very true.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the small switchblade. “When death comes, we will be stronger, together forever.”
Rebecca threw her arms around Charlotte again. “Forever, Sis! We are—” The words cut off with a sharp gasp and she pulled away, staring down at her stomach, where the slowly blossoming red flower of blood began to creep across her dress. She looked back up at Charlotte with wide-eyed incredulity. “Charlie?”
“Hush,” she said and eased her back on the bed. “Conserve your strength. Death is coming and our love shall keep it at bay.”
“I'm bleeding,” she replied, still in disbelief.
Charlotte looked down at her, tasting the energy of her upon the air, the sweet force of life seeping out of the wound in her stomach. “I know. It will all be fixed soon enough. Just be still and breathe.”
“It hurts, Sis!”
“Do you trust me?”
“I do, but—”
“Then lie still,” she said more forcefully and Rebecca eased back down. “Do you think I would let you die?”
“No, but ... I don't understand.” She grimaced and brought her hands up to the wound.
“Don't touch it,” Charlotte insisted. “Just be still. I mean it. Think about us, our bond together, sisters in blood, and the fact that nothing,
nothing
in this world can break it.” She reached down and clasped Rebecca's hand. “Even death cannot break it, no matter how strongly it says your time has come, I will always be with you, Sis.” She leaned over, eyes pulsing with a swell of power. “Even in death, I shall never leave you. Our love is stronger than death, Becca. You must have faith.”
“I don't want to die,” she replied, wincing in pain.
“Do you want to be with me forever, Sis?”
Rebecca nodded at Charlotte.
“Then we must show death that it cannot win over love. I defeated it for you. Now it's time for you to prove that you love me and want me more than anything in this world.” Charlotte stood up straight and turned toward the hall door. “Ma-ma! Come now!”
“Sis?” Rebecca's face was beginning to lose some color now. “I'm afraid.”
Charlotte spun back to her and leaned over, placing a hand on each of Rebecca's shoulders, pushing her down against the mattress. “No fear! Death feeds on fear. Fear will let it get you and take you away from me. You must be strong, and I will be here with you to fight him, Sis. When he comes, I will be with you.”
Light footsteps could be heard moving quickly down the hallway before the door swung open. Beverly stuck her head around the edge of the door and gave them a pensive look. “What is it, sweetheart? Did you girls need some tea or maybe—” She stopped when her gaze finally recognized what was going on. “Oh, dear Lord! What's happened to Rebecca?”
“Ma-ma, sit down, here, next to Rebecca,” Charlotte said, pointing and motioning with her finger. After Beverly rushed over and sat down on the other side of the bed next to Rebecca, Charlotte grabbed her wrist when she tried to look at the wound in Rebecca's abdomen.
“Ma-ma?” Rebecca said in a sleepy voice. “I'm going to be with Charlie forever.”
Charlotte tightened her grip on Beverly's arm until she gasped and looked away from Rebecca. “Ma-ma, Rebecca is bleeding to death, and she needs some more blood now. Are you willing to give her some?”
Beverly looked down at Rebecca and then back again. “Of course, but don't you think we should call an ambulance?”
“We don't have time,” Charlotte replied and pulled out her blade again. “Will you give her some? You won't feel a thing, I promise.”
“If she needs me, then, of course,” she said. “I'd do anything for you girls.”
With a quick flash of steel, Charlotte opened up a deep, inch-long cut into the veins on Beverly's wrist, who gasped but said nothing. “See, Ma-ma, you can't feel a thing, can you?”
“No, sweetie, it's OK,” she replied.
“Good. I love you.” She pulled the arm toward Rebecca, dripping a trail of blood across the spread. “Lay down here next to her and put the blood to her mouth, just like we used to do.”
Beverly slid up next to Rebecca on one side, while Charlotte settled in against her on the other; Rebecca gave them a pleasant moan and then made a face at the taste of blood on her lips. Charlotte pinned the wrist to Rebecca's mouth so she had little choice.
“Drink, Sis,” she said. “You must. Blood has the energy of life within it, and you need more to fight off death when he comes. Life and love, Bec. Look at me.” Her head turned enough so she could see, and Charlotte held her gaze, putting on her best, most dazzling smile. “Let's show them all that our love is the most powerful of all.”
Charlotte kept the wrist clamped down over her mouth with one hand, while the other gently brushed at the hair falling across her forehead. Beverly murmured reassurances. She reached out, feeling the energy of her fading slowly, weakening the bond between the physical reality and her soul. With the piece of Rebecca's soul flowing through her veins, Charlotte could make the connection to her easily enough. The key element on her part would be timing. The other would all be on Rebecca and her will to stave off the pull of death. The cold push of the other side was beginning to seep through.
Rebecca tried to say something, spluttering against the wound pressed to her mouth, as rivulets of blood spilled out across her cheek. Charlotte hushed her. “Drink, Sis. It's almost time. Be ready. I'm right here with you. Always.”
After dozens of attempts, Charlotte had learned that she could not force them to fight. She had tried many different ways of charming, of trying to build a high level of emotional need and desire to stay with the living, but she had come to realize that in the end, it was still just a charm, a forced response, and death did not capitulate to such fakery. She could only build up a genuine desire and love, create a real bond, and believe herself that this girl was her sister come back to her. This Rebecca was the closest she had felt in so long. Other than convincing her that she was Rebecca and not Jessica Davies, the rest had come almost too easy.
“How much more?” Beverly asked, her voice strained.
“Until she is done, Ma-ma,” she replied in a harsh whisper. “Do not speak again.” A cool shiver ran down her spine. The dead were coming to make Rebecca their own. She refocused on Rebecca, whose mouth did little to drink the blood spilling from Beverly's wrist, and took one of her hands in her own. Charlotte squeezed it. “I love you, Sis. I will stand with you against him. Death cannot win.” She kissed Rebecca's cheek, leaving a bloody smear across the skin. “Our love is stronger.”

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