Chapter Twenty-Six
Narcotics of all sorts wear off eventually, and generally leave you feeling worse than you did before. Pain is a good concentrator of the senses, physical pain, that is. But grief is another matter entirely.
I woke up lying on my back, Pepper licking my cheek and mouth. Above us black sky or vault, I couldn’t tell because there was no reference. Under us, the grass was still silky and smooth. I sat up.
Considering that for an unknown time I was glued to the earth by a powerful spell, my body felt pretty good. My heart was another matter; spilling over with unthinkable pain. Drawing up my knees, curling into a ball, I fell to one side.
Unable to speak, or breathe, or think. It was only my daughter, and my total failure as a mother to keep her safe, the knowledge of this that went through me like a knife, cut my spine in two. Paralyzed me even more than the silky grass.
But not for long. Pepper rose, barked. A memory plowed through my pain, followed by spear of fury. My father, rolling me to one side, taking the ampule back.
Before I knew what I was doing, I was on my feet, facing the closed grille in the black wall. How does one kill a ghost?
My fingernails dug into the palm of my hands. I was going to kill him, but the rules of this were different, and I didn’t know them. But I would find out. First, I had to get out of here.
Grief threatened to overthrow me again. Every time I thought of Zoe I wanted to fold myself up into a small enough bundle that the wind would blow me away like an empty sack, but I couldn’t do it. I still had to try, even though by now the deadline had passed.
I wasn’t sure how I knew that, but I did. I had been asleep for hours, maybe even days before the spell wore off, whatever it was.
The grille was locked. Looking through, I saw only shadow, not even a light from Dad’s trailer, if it was still there. Maybe the invisible steeds of Hell had dragged it away, as my father fled with his cache of Bijou.
OK, later. He was on the list for a meeting, but a little farther down, after Dom.
The wall rose into shadow. I couldn’t see the top. It was impossible to see the source of the dimness; it revealed trees and the movement of water; grass was gray, trees only slightly darker, stream the color of opals. Laws of shadow and light had no meaning here.
Pepper following, I traversed my prison, to find that I indeed was inside a walled garden. The stream issued from a culvert, flowed across the enclosure in a straight channel and vanished through another culvert. On the opposite bank the black wall rose into nothing. The “forest” was a ragged row of tall trees between the stream and the house, branches lost in the shadow above. I still couldn’t tell if there was empty air above or a vaulted roof.
The only sound was flowing water. No breeze, no bird, only water and Pepper’s intermittent barking. No echo, either, when she did. And what layer of Hell had I come to? Why had I not ended up at the usual place, on the riverbank, across from Phantom City? It was no accident, I thought, that I came directly to Dad.
I stood beside the stream for a long time, wishing Bruce were here to part the water for me so we could escape through the culvert. The water was icy but not deep; as Pepper stepped into it and waded across, it came up to her doggy elbows.
Sniffing, casting for a scent, she raised her nose. I watched her like I would a heart monitor, looking for any sign of trouble or change or hope. But nothing. Turning, she came out of the water, shook, and looked up to me as if to say, “What’s next, boss?”
In The Divine Comedy, Dante’s Inferno was by far the most interesting place of the three realms of the afterlife he visited. The illustrations of Gustave Doré were deliciously gruesome. I almost wished for the distraction of thieves tortured by serpents, anything to prevent the frustration and panic from rising into my throat and bunching into a scream.
Dante dreamed he was carried off by an Eagle and burned by the sun. What I wouldn’t give for Sam the Harpy and her two sisters?
Then, it occurred to me that I had just done a time jump, verified by my father to be an impossible, or at least extremely rare feat for a Novak to perform. If I could do that, why couldn’t I just jump out of this layer of Hell, to anywhere in the world?
My heart raced ahead of my brain, filling my muscles with tension. Why not give it a try? Gripping Pepper’s collar, I pictured the VA hospital, paint-chipped white barracks, roofs of green tiles, waving tan grasses against a sun-scorched hill.
Cold winds buffeted me. My hand on Pepper’s collar grew numb. The black trees bent to the ground as the winds lifted us. Within the cyclone, we rose. Pulling Pepper close to me, I looked down to see the fortress rotating beneath us as if it had been placed on a lazy Susan. I clamped my eyes shut, kept my arm around Pepper’s neck.
When I opened my eyes again, I saw that wraiths traveled with us, watching with bright, opalescent eyes. There were hundreds of them, drawn, maybe, to my living flesh, my ghost guide stamp.
A grumbling roar drilled inside my head. Or was it outside? I looked at my arm gripping my dog. Ice speckled the fleece, ice the same color as the as the wraith’s eyes, the color of sun icy with the breath of rainbows.
I tried to bring up my knees, curl myself into a human ball. I could see nothing but wraiths roiling around us like fish caught in a net. I didn’t know which way gravity pulled; there was no down, no up.
All this time, I felt calm. I kept Zoe’s face in my mind, wide green eyes; skin salted with freckles, cheeks rosy from running around. My girl, mine alone. I would let nothing happen to her. And if it did, I would not rest until Dominique Delphine was utterly destroyed.
Water slugged my face. I gasped, tried not to inhale. Again, another shower, the roar increased to a howl, punctuated by thunder. Ripples ran through the wraiths, as if I was looking at them through a pane of glass wind-swept with rain.
I knew where I was. Not the VA. Clamping my arms around Pepper, I let the water tumble and shake us, and spit us out into the damp, empty cistern of the Water Temple.
The roaring ceased, but my ears rang. Pepper struggled from my arms, shook icy drops over me. I too was covered with small pearls of ice, but I wasn’t wet. Damn, I didn’t want to be here. Why had I been dumped in the Water Temple, when the VA portal was the one I sought?
It was night. Cool, but not cold. As my ears cleared, crickets filled the air with clicking rhythms. My muscles ached, and I was beyond hungry. The edgy pain in my elbow was still with me, but we were safe, Pepper at my side and I had gone to Hell and back. Every time it got easier.
Pretty cool deal, I thought, as I went up the spiral steel steps as quickly as I could, Pepper treading on my heels. But there was a downside. I wasn’t where I wanted to be, and many, many wraiths had slipped through with me. I could hear and smell them as they rushed upward and streamed away like unleashed helium balloons.
As soon as I got out of the Water Temple, I checked my cell for the time and my heart vanished into a cold chasm, somewhere below the earth. 1:15am. The deadline long fled. Oh god, where was my daughter?
The field surrounding the Water Temple was empty; not a single car. I walked toward the highway, and as I did so, the first thing I did was call Dominique.
No answer, and I did not leave a message. Next, Ivy. Same. Finally Sawyer. Same. A cold worry prodded me. I scanned the ether for Jonah, but even he didn’t respond. My cell phone battery was nearly gone. It was as if I had been set down in a world bereft of everyone I knew, loved, or despised.
Only crickets, and dead grass. But above I heard the whisper of a jet plane, and not far away, the hiss of cars on the nearby freeway.
When I got to the road, I started walking in the direction of Pleasantville. I knew at least one dwelling that was nearby and I could get there on foot. Pepper padding behind me, I walked as quickly as I could, hoping a car would pass that I could flag down and get a ride. My muscles raged. I had to force back urges to lie down, curl into a ball and die. Burning fists crushed my stomach and pounded on the inside of my skull. Panting, limping, Pepper managed to keep pace.
Dark night of the soul. My soul, and that of my daughter. I tried to remember sunshine, and three-year-old Zoe running across an emerald lawn with one of those whirly things, plastic colored wings on a stick. Holding onto that vision I plodded with my dog through the dark night, crickets and slinking cats for company.
At intervals, when I thought of it, I made my round of calls. Dominique, no answer. Ivy, no answer. Sawyer, no answer. I even tried Bruce, trying not to care that I would wake in up in the middle of the night at the hospital. No answer. Tears singed my eyes, dry from lack of sleep and valley air. Where are they? Why don’t they answer? I needed to tell Zoe that Pepper was alive.
By the time I reached the road I wanted, I was talking and blubbering to myself, cursing Dominique and my father, punching the air with my fist. Ascending the winding lanes into the hills was torture; by the time I reached Jack Easton’s place my thighs were rubber; I could barely stand, and nearly fell as I caught my foot on some decorative rock alongside his driveway.
A half-assed plan formed in my brain. If he wasn’t home—and his fancy car was not in the driveway—I would just camp out on his front porch and keep trying everyone’s number until my phone gave out. Also, if he was home but wouldn’t let me in, I had any number of threats to egregiously worsen his haunted state. I didn’t see Baby Justin floating around anywhere, but that didn’t mean Jack Easton wasn’t home.
Sinking to the polished concrete floor of Jack Easton’s porch and leaning against the stucco wall, I tried to think. I was very thirsty, and I knew Pepper was, too, as she lay down beside me, her head on her paws. Inside, I knew there was a land line, and food, and water, and a soft bed. But I wasn’t a break-in artiste like Sawyer, and besides, Jack Easton’s home would be laden with alarms alerting snotty policemen.
It was hard to force myself to sit here and wait. Every time I thought of Zoe I wanted to leap up and run, or smash one of Jack’s windows and call a cab. I was letting her down big time. I prayed Ivy was with her, that Dominique hadn’t separated them, left my girl alone and afraid. That was all I allowed. I did not allow thoughts of Dom making her threat come true.
My mind spun. What if I couldn’t get out and through the VA portal because Dominique had done the deed and it was open only to wraiths and something had prevented me from getting there to see—
Knock it off, Annie Lee. Rational thought was needed here but so not available. If I could sleep until Jack got home, or rest for an hour, or use the last of the juice on my phone to call a cab and force the driver to take Pepper too.
Pepper lifted her head, sniffed, gave off a low growl. Sitting up, I suppressed a groan and stared across the dimly shadowed driveway. I could see or hear nothing. But Pepper cast for a scent in the air, and every time she caught one, she growled.
Wraiths? Gliding out there unseen, drawn to Pepper and me? Hundreds had come through the portal with me, I thought. Some could have trailed me here.
I was so weary, that as I scanned the hedge border and the gravel drive, pinwheels of colors floated in my eyes, vertical lines wavered and shifted. Had to be wraiths.
Then I saw one. It rose over the hedge and floated toward us across the driveway. Small and iridescent, it swooped upward and down again like a tether ball.
My heart did a flip and I stood up. Seeing me, Justin arrowed across the driveway and hovered before us, his baby face both sweet and grotesque, changing color and contrast, now looking as if a flashlight was shining below his chin, and a moment later looking as if the flashlight was in his mouth, shining out through his baby cheeks.
“Hello, Justin.” My voice crackled like an old lady’s. “Is he on the way?”
Justin’s method of nodding was to move his entire baby body up and down. “He has been a very busy boy.”
My heart quickened. “What’s happened? I’m looking for my daughter, Zoe. Have you seen or heard anything?”
He bobbed up and down again; anxiety flashed inside me, warming me throughout, throwing handfuls of spinning stars into my vision.
“Tell me.”
At that moment, we heard the sound of a car moving up the Road. Baby Justin whirled and zoomed to the car like an eager dog greeting its master. I sank to the ground, leaned against the wall, and brought up my knees. Pepper gave out a low growl, but I stopped her.
With a jingling of keys, Jack Easton appeared on his porch. His hair was mussed, and he sighed heavily as he unlocked his door. Then he froze.
Turning toward me, he startled. “Jeezus, Annie. You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?”
I forced myself to my feet. “Jack, you don’t even want to know. Can I come in?”
“Sure.” He glanced at Pepper, who politely wagged her tail.
“She won’t hurt anything.” I pushed before him as he opened one of the massive double doors, stood inside his vestibule, and waited. “Could we get some water?”
A light came on as we walked through the great room to his spotless kitchen that looked like it had never been used, much less spilled upon. He very nicely handed me a bottled water, then rummaged until he found a pot and filled it for Pepper, who slurped noisily at it for what seemed like an hour.
As I drank I got a good look at him. Shock shivered through me. He looked as if he had aged a hundred years; gray pallor dusted his skin. The golden waves of his hair had bleached to a straw-yellow, striped with white. His eyes held a haunted look, pupils dilated, like someone coming down from acid but still high from amphetamines.
I probably looked the same, but if he noticed, Jack said nothing about it. Baby Justin bobbed near the refrigerator, and I saw Jack send furtive looks in his direction.
“Jack. Focus.” I moved to stand in front of him. “Dominique took Zoe. Where is she? I know you’ve been with her.”
He took in a quick breath, and impossibly he paled even more. “I don’t know. I wasn’t with Dom. I don’t know what you are talking about.”
Before I knew what I was doing, I had my hands on both his arms. My face bloomed with heat. “I know you are lying. Dominique is a fucking monster and she kidnapped my daughter and you will tell me right now where she is.”
Twisting away from me, Jack held up his hands. “Calm down! What’s the matter with you?”
Baby Justin floated near Jack’s right ear. What’s the matter with you? He echoed in a baby voice.
Jack started, wiped his hand across his ear as if a bug had just flown into it. “Jesus, Annie. I just got home and I’ve been through a helluva night, and here you are accusing me of god-knows-what.”
“A ‘helluva night’, huh?” A laugh escaped me, a crazy giggle I couldn’t stop. Baby Justin giggled too. “Me too. Me too, Jack.” I sank onto a stool drawn up to a black granite-topped bar. “So tell me about your hell, Jack. And then I’ll tell you about mine.”
Jack’s forehead smoothed a little. His friendly salesman demeanor was completely gone, and his lips stiffened. “Give me a minute, huh? Have some more water. There’s beer, too, soda, whatever you want.” His voice faded as he walked away from through the kitchen, and into a hall.
I was off my stool and following. Hearing me behind him, he paused. “I’ll be right back.”
Oh no. I’m not letting you out of my sight. Smiling, I stayed behind him as he followed a long, windowed corridor to an open door, leading to a huge master suite. Here was where Jack Easton lived. Clothes were strewn everywhere, empty pizza boxes, a huge wide screen TV, laptop on the bed beside newspapers and files and photos of the fancy houses he was trying to sell.
Entering, he turned and saw me come through the door behind him, Pepper my escort. “Annie, give me a minute.”
Pushing an empty take-out container and a magazine out of a plushy chair, I flopped down. “I just want to see how it’s done.”
His eyebrows drew down in a sharp V. “How what’s done?”
“Bijou. Do you drink it, sniff it, smoke it or mainline it?”
Baby Justin twirled in through a wall where a probably expensive abstract painting was hung. A chill ran through me. This was no laughing matter. He could still be using Baby Justin’s Bijou.
Jack stared at me in shock. “What are you talking about? I never touch the stuff.”
Nodding, I said, “But you know what it is. You get yours from Dom, right?”
He sighed. I wondered how old he was trying to look—younger even than the same handsome age he was when he married my sister? “Just let me watch. You know I’m cool. I think the use of it is heinous, but I’m not going to preach at you.”
Jack Easton sank onto his bed. He looked miserable, old, weary. And he wasn’t that much older than me. I almost felt sorry for him. Opening the drawer of a lacquered bedside table, he withdrew a Ziploc bag.
Not a pretty envelope for a pretty jewel. Inside was a small clear glass bottle with a dropper attached. Like old-fashioned nose drops. I found myself feeling resentful of the haphazard way Jack stored his Bijou. He should treat the remnants of someone’s soul with more respect.
Of course, Hollis’s was stuck inside a teenage boy’s high school locker. That might even be worse.
Inside Jack’s bottle the thick rainbow liquid swirled and flowed. Holding it up, he looked at if for a few moments, like a hungry man his first meal in days, or a boozer about to fall off the wagon and savoring the moment of giving in.
It was a beautiful thing, a faceted sapphire or glinting emerald, more rich in light and bling than any diamond. I too found myself staring at it, wondering what it felt like.
Unscrewing the top, Jack siphoned a small amount into the dropper. He lifted the dropper to his mouth and set one gleaming drop under his tongue. Closed his mouth, then his eyes.
He sat that way for a full minute. I watched for signs of youth to make their way across his skin, hair.
When Jack opened his eyes, he said, “It’s like tasting God.”
No doubt, I thought with bristling irritation. Only a real estate salesman could dare to make such a trite distinction. “Whose is it? The baby’s?”
Blanching slightly, but looking more alert and vital every second, Jack shook his head. “How should I know? Dom makes her own blend.”
My breath froze in my throat. She mixes souls together? I felt a little nauseous. That felt so wrong, like cutting up bodies and sewing the pieces together to make a human being. Worse than Frankenstein’s monster.
I stood up. Had to move away from him. I heard him putting the Bijou back into his drawer. “Does she mix Xtra with regular?”
“She has several different blends. For different effects. I prefer the one she calls Virilia.”
It sickened me to ask these questions. It felt like asking a serial killer exactly how he mutilated his victims. But I had to know. “What are its special qualities?”
I heard him snort. “You have to ask? With a name like Virilia?”
Of course. Viagra made from spiritual essence. When I turned back to face Jack, I saw Baby Justin hovering over the bedside table, his soul taken eleven years ago still in use. I wondered how long Bijou lasted. Forever? And I wondered about the blend Dom used, and how long dead those people were?
Jack was looking younger. His skin, eyes, even hair, softened and smoothed, and he looked at me in an almost lascivious way. Cocky. Virile. “That crazy scene at the old VA. I wished I’d tanked up before I went there. Couldn’t keep up with those girls.”
My heart clamped around my throat and my feet took me straight back to Jack. I stood over him, trembling. “What scene at the VA? What happened?” Jonah took Sawyer and Agnes to the VA portal. Then then image printed on the note flashed into my brain:
V