Chapter Three

The wind set snow drifting across the hill, but the footing was solid as we made our way into the forest entrance. Craig turned Serge back to his ethereal form, in case we ran into anyone wandering the trails. Then he turned to Nell. “Come by me.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“You were on the other side,” he said, as he handed me his cell.

I adjusted it so the light shone on them.

He took her face in his hands. His eyes turned red. “I need to see if it left a mark on you.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“If there’s an imprint, I can shift your perception to see what we’re seeing. It’ll help protect you.” He peered into her eyes. “It’s fading, but it’s there. Hold on.” He pulled her closer, then blew over her face. His breath was smoke and fire, with sparks of blue and white that swirled in hieroglyphs. He stepped back. “How do you feel?”

“The same.” She looked around. “Oh, wait. I can see your auras. Mags, you’re glowing.” She grinned and sidled up to me. “Is that your aura or because you’re close to Craig?”

“Nah,” I said. “It’s just the afterglow of being close to you.”

She blinked and tapped my arm with her fist. “I love you, too.”

We hurried after Craig and Serge, and Nell flipped on her cell’s light. I stumbled over roots and branches, and eventually slid my way down an embankment into a flat clearing. A ghost stood in the centre.

“Oh, he’s cute,” said Nell.

“Calm down,” I said. “He’s dead.”

“I could make him feel alive again.”

I punched her arm.

“What did we say about the hitting?” she asked, but I ignored her and moved closer to the ghost.

He was a couple years older than me, with light brown hair and dark eyes. Dressed in cut-off jeans and a white t-shirt, he didn’t seem to notice the winter cold. Which meant he was dead, and he was among the confused dead. I dug my hands into my coat pockets and moved closer. The smell coming off of him was evergreen pine, a sure sign he’d died recently. “Are you okay, sir?”

“Oh, I ain’t no sir, ma’am,” he said, turning his attention from the barren tree tops to me. “My name’s Zeke, Zeke Addison, and I still ain’t sure how I ended up here.” The ghost left his spot and came over to us. His footprints left no mark in the snow gathering on the ground. The wind created by his movement did nothing to scatter the fallen snowflakes. He squinted to the sky. “Musta been some fall.”

Some fall? The area surrounding us was flat and empty. “My name’s Maggie, and these are my friends. Can we help you with anything?”

“Nah, I ain’t never seen this part of the woods before, but I figure I can get myself back home.”

“You’ve never seen this part of the woods,” I repeated. “Because you’ve never been here. Your accent, you’re from one of the southern states in America?”

He nodded. “Land of the free and the brave. The Ozarks are home to me.”

“You’re not there anymore. You’re in Dead Falls, Alberta, Canada.”

Zeke’s gaze went to each of us, a confused smile forming on his lips. “Y’all are funning with me, ain’t ya?”

“I don’t joke about things like this,” I said.

I felt Zeke considering my mental state. No doubt, he was wondering if he wanted to be in the dark woods, alone, with us.

He came closer, a good sign.

Zeke still hadn’t asked how he’d ended up in a small northern town or why he’d suddenly appeared in the middle of the road, in a swirl of purple light. Did the dead not see this plane of existence in the same way as the living? Or did they, like the living, lie to themselves about the reality surrounding them?

I took another breath and tried again to help him cross over. “You mentioned the Ozarks.”

But he wasn’t listening. He was staring at the sky. “It was a hard fall. I rolled a lot. Maybe I ended up on another trail…”

“In Canada?”

He smiled. “You can keep trying, but I ain’t falling for your stunt. Did the boys make you do this?”

“Zeke, what do you see?”

He gave me a sweet smile. “You, all lit up, pretty as a picnic. Warm as sunshine, too.”

“What about around me? What do you see?”

“Your friends.” He smiled again. “The woods.”

“You don’t see anything else?”

“What else is there to see?”

Nell’s gaze went to the purple-magenta clouds swirling above us. “What about the snow?”

“Ain’t no snow.”

Nell opened her mouth, but Craig shook his head.

“What was going on before you fell?” I asked.

“Well, it’s like this. I was with my boys—Beau, Shortie, and Bubba—and we was at the crick—”

My brain took a second to adjust ‘crick’ to ‘creek.’

He nodded. “It’s real beautiful this time of the year. Clear and blue. Anyway, Bubba, he saw a skunk and started jawing about how the critter was better smelling and better looking than his ex, Wanda.” Zeke scraped the underside of his jaw. “It’s been real bad between them.”

“I guessed that from Bubba’s comparison.”

“Yeah, I suppose that’s kind of obvious, ain’t it?”

“Happens to the best of us. Keep going.”

“I ain’t had a date in a long while, and I started talking about how she was kind of pretty, for a skunk. Bubba thought it’d be funny to kiss her. The skunk, I mean. Not Wanda. He’d be real tickled if I did that. But a skunk…”

“You really thought it would be funny to kiss a skunk?”

He nodded. “It seemed like a good idea, at the time.”

“Did you do it?” Serge asked, his voice part-horror, part-respect.

“There was a six pack of beer and my family honour on the line.”

“Some family,” I said.

“Oh, now, when you think on it, a girl and a skunk ain’t that different. One’s better smelling than the other—”

“I assume you mean the girl,” I said.

He nodded.

“Just checking.” I wiggled my toes to keep the circulation going.

“—You gotta be nice and gentle with them, but if you treat them right, they’ll be okay. The skunk, I mean. Although, treatin’ a girl the same way, ain’t a bad idea, come to think about it.”

I flexed my fingers, trying to get the warmth back. “Then what happened?”

“I don’t rightly know. There was a lot of hooting and hollering, and I was crashing through the brush. Then all of a sudden, I was falling and then there was a bright light.” He shrugged. “Then I found myself here. Not that I’m not enjoying your company and all, but I can’t figure how I ended up here—” He squinted up. “I fell from a hill, and I thought I knew every road and twist in the backwoods.”

I figured taking the blunt approach was best. Zeke was great company, but the longer he lingered, the harder it would be to transition him. Besides, my fingers were icicles. I wanted to go back to the car and get more answers from Craig. “It comes down to this: Zeke, you’re dead.”

His eyelids flickered. “I’m what?”

“Dead.”

“Are you dead, too?”

“No.”

“Then how come you can see me?”

“It’s a talent.”

“A talent.”

“Like wooing skunks,” I said. “I see the dead and I help them move from this existence to the next.”

If his smile didn’t trumpet his disbelief, the fact that he started scanning for escape did. “I think you’re having a little fun with me.”

“Okay, it’s one big prank. How did you end up here?”

“If I’m dead, how come I don’t sink through the ground?”

“Because death is like life. It’s going to be what you make of it. You don’t sink because you don’t think you should sink.”

“Maggie—”

“It’s snowing.” I pointed. “Don’t you see it?”

“It’s not snowing,” he said.

“Then why am I wearing a snow jacket?”

“It’s not my place to question a lady’s choice of clothing.” He leaned in. “But if you’re asking, I thought it was odd, but the colour looks real good on you.”

“Thanks, but—”

“Not that I don’t believe you—” He smiled. “—But I don’t believe you.”

“Got it. You only have my word.” Time to call in the big guns. “See him?” I pointed to Serge.

“Yep.” He squinted. “Your boyfriend?”

Craig looked amused.

“Hey,” said Serge to him. “I’m not a bad catch.”

“You’re a great catch,” Craig said. “Handsome, funny, smart. You’re the whole package.”

I glared them both into silence. “He’s my brother.”

The squint deepened. “He don’t look like your kin.”

“He’s not my real brother, we’re soul-bonded.”

“If he’s not your brother, why do you call him that?” asked Zeke.

“Because.” Serge wriggled into the spot between us. “It sounds better than ‘hi, meet Serge. We used to go to school together and he bullied me until I wanted to die. Luckily, he was the one who stopped breathing. I helped him figure out that his so-called suicide was a murder, and then we discovered in this life we were both scripted to become guardians. We watch over the dead and living, transition souls from this plane to the next, and make sure the bad spirits from hell stay there.’”

“Yeah,” Zeke nodded. “I can see how that’s a mouthful.”

“If you can see Serge, you’re dead,” I said. “Because he’s dead, and the dead see the dead.”

“Are you sure I’m dead? Maybe you’re dead and I’m the one who’s alive.”

I looked to Craig.

“No point in me shifting,” he said, seeming to read my mind. “He won’t see it.”

“Do you see the light that outlines them?” Nell asked.

He nodded.

“The living can’t see that.”

“No disrespect, ma’am, but I live with fireflies. If the good Lord can make a creature who’s able to light up his butt like a power switch, then maybe the glow of you folks is some kind of science I ain’t figured out yet.”

“That’s true,” said Serge.

I shot him an exasperated look.

“What?” He raised his hands. “The guy’s got a point.”

“That’s not helpful,” I said.

Serge shrugged. “Truth is truth.”

“And I’m getting hypothermia,” I said. “We need to move this along.”

“You dead, too?” He asked Nell.

“Nah,” she said. “But I’ve been to the other side. It’s nice. You should go.”

“I can’t be dead,” said Zeke. “When you die, you go to heaven or hell. You don’t end up in the middle of the road with a bunch of strangers.”

“It doesn’t always work that way—” I said.

“It has to. Good people move on. Bad people get punished. If you’re neither—if you’re not good enough—”

“You’re good enough,” I said softly. “I’ve known you for five minutes and I know you’re good enough. But I also know you didn’t think you were going to die today. Your system’s suffered a shock—”

“If it’s not about being good or bad,” said Zeke, stepping away. “Maybe it’s something else. Maybe I’m here for a reason. There has to be a reason. Maybe I’m here to stop a bad thing or to help someone. Life and death have to have purpose.”

It was an anguished plea. A flash of connection and understanding lit Serge’s face. “Your life has purpose,” Serge told him. “So does your death. But you’re not going to find the reason here. You have to move on, talk to the higher-ups and see what your destiny is.”

Zeke wiped his face. “I’ve had enough of things just happening because they happen.”

Something about the way he said it tweaked me. I took his hand. “What kinds of stuff just happen?”

“Nothing worth talking about. Life just doesn’t always turn out like you expect.”

“Who did you lose?” Serge asked quietly.

“Who didn’t I lose? Ma’s finding her end at the bottom of a bottle. Pa’s—I don’t reckon I know where he’s gone.”

“Who was the first?” Serge came closer, until we were a quiet triangle of memories and pain, bracketed by the icy night.

“I had this brother,” Zeke’s face contorted. “I hate that word. Had.” He was quiet for a moment. “My little brother, Homer. Cute little cuss. Died on account of the cancer.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s a terrible way to go, and it’s a terrible thing to watch and know you can’t stop the pain.”

“I lost someone, too,” said Nell, coming to join us. “It’s not easy.”

Zeke knuckled his eyes. “He was the bravest kid I knew. After he—after he left, nothing seemed to matter. What was the point of doing anything other than hooting and hollering? Death was just going to take the ones you loved. And life didn’t care about those left behind. It was like, after Homer, Ma, Pa, and I, we all just got in line and waited for death to get us too.”

“What did Homer look like?” I asked. “Like you?”

“Homer? Nah, he was better looking than I’ll ever be. Dark hair, dark eyes, real chubby. But cute chubby, you know? Baby fat—he got real skinny with the chemo. But he never stopped smiling. He had this laugh when he was real happy—” Zeke broke off, looking around. “Do you hear—I swear I heard him.”

“When he was really happy,” I said. “You made him happy?”

“I loved him,” said Zeke. “I loved him with every beat of my heart. When he died, I died along with him. My little buddy was gone.”

“It sounds like he was your best friend,” I said.

Zeke smiled at me. “I got him into all kinds of trouble. We stole into old man Jackson’s pasture one time, and I pulled Homer up on one of the horses, showed him how to ride bareback—there it is, again! You sure you don’t hear—” His gaze went to a dark corner of the forest. “Oh my Lord. Homer? You see him?” He started to cry. “Look how good he looks. He’s chubby again.” He smiled through his tears. “Can you hear him? He’s calling my name. Sweet Jesus in Heaven. Homer! Boy, look at you!”

Zeke turned my way and his eyes were gone. They’d turned into liquid silver and reflected white-blue light.

“Go to him,” I whispered.

He moved, laughing and crying at the same time. “He’s so healthy. So happy. Lord, Homer, I missed you.” He ran to the spot, stumbling over his feet and tripping as he picked up his pace. Zeke dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around someone I couldn’t see.

Pure, white light enveloped him and outlined the silhouette of someone small holding on to him. They began to fade from view.

Nell sniffed. “Too bad everyone can’t see this.”

Overhead, thunder crackled. Craig looked up.

“Can there be a thunderstorm in the middle of winter?” Nell asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “But we’re too far north—”

Black lightning flashed, multi-forked and edged in blue.

Craig morphed into ferrier form. “Nell, get Serge out of here! Maggie, don’t let any of those things touch your bare skin.”

“What? Why do I have to leave?” Serge dodged out of Nell’s grasp.

“Because this thing comes for ghosts. Get out!”

“Go!” The boom of Nell’s command sent Serge running up the path.

The sky opened into a dark, swirling vortex. Branches of lightning cracked jagged lines. Shadows, made visible only by the supernatural light, formed in the swirling hollow. Beside me, thick spikes formed along Craig’s spine.

That was new and creepy. “What is this?”

“No time to explain. Get to Zeke and his brother. Make sure nothing happens to them.”

I ran for the ghosts.

“Maggie—”

I looked back.

“Remember, don’t let anything touch your bare skin.”

Racing to my ghostly charges, I pulled my gloves high on my wrists. I slid to where they knelt. Zeke flickered in my vision, Homer remained an outline.

“What’s going on?” Though there was no wind, Zeke’s hair waved around his face as though caught in a violent breeze.

“I don’t know.” I knelt and put my arms around them both. As we connected, the wind rose, clear and warm. Homer morphed from an outline to a fully-formed kid with chubby cheeks and worried eyes. Zeke and I moved so the little boy was protected by both of us.

Lifting my face, I saw the sky from this position wasn’t the same. A yellow sun blazed in an orange sky, and from the black centre of the star, the shadows swooped down. I had no idea what they were, but common sense said they were big, bad, and deadly.

I had Homer roll into a fetal position, then Zeke curled himself around his brother. My matchstick figure wasn’t big enough to cover them both. Time to fight. I stood over them, yanked on my hood, pulled off my scarf, and hoped the evil things wouldn’t go for my face.

I’ve always wondered why ghosts feel as solid to me as the living, and as one of the shadows flew close, I got my answer. For this moment, for this time. So I could use my scarf as a weapon, wrap it around the shadow and fling it to the side. So I could make a fist and punch the one that swooped close.

It was demonic whack-a-mole, as soon as I smacked one of them out of the way, another took its place. They stank of sulphur and desperate need, and even with the protection of my coat and gloves, I felt their acidic touch. More of them swooped down. My arms were tiring, my legs were losing strength from the countless squats and lunges, and I was sure I’d pulled a muscle—or seven—in my back. I hit and swung and boomeranged until I thought my arms would fly off. From behind, I heard a loud roar, words spoken in a language I couldn’t understand.

The shadows exploded, raining black dust. There was a loud crack and a brilliant flash of light burned the sky. The sound of a sonic boom, a high keening. Blistering heat followed by a sharp cold and the pungent smell of rot. The light faded. Nell was beside me. Zeke and Homer were gone. I scanned the landscape. The scarf slipped from my fingers. Craig lay in a pool of scarlet, Serge knelt beside him.