Chapter Fourteen

Dianne Morgan had been found inside her one-bedroom apartment in Columbus, Ohio, seven days after her initial death in 1993. She was buried in a small plot in Akron, Ohio. She was a former Canadian citizen, who had moved when her husband was transferred, and had decided to stay long after his death, even as her daughter moved away and was now apparently living in her mother’s hometown of St. Catharines. After wandering the in-between realms as energy for over twenty years, she somehow managed to find a gold necklace with a piece of her hair inside it and anchored to the object.

Ethan slipped the locket into the front pocket of his shirt as soon as Tessa gave it to him. It was cold against his skin and then suddenly warm. His clothing didn’t seem to register.

“Dianne showed up at the Crown compound over six months ago,” Tessa explained. “She’s been working tirelessly with us to piece together what exactly goes on in the in-between world. She travelled the farthest through her own volition by sneaking on trains and slipping the locket into people’s pocket when they weren’t looking. Some people pawned it, others discarded it, and many times she ended up at thrift stores, but as long as she never went over water, she always managed to stay present long enough to sort out where she was going. Not only has she travelled the farthest on her own, but she’s also wandered in the in-between the longest. We’ve been interviewing so we can keep records and build on it for later.”

“And now it’s time to go home? Inside me?” Ethan said, somewhat cynically. If Tessa noticed, she paid no mind and merely nodded.

“As much as we could learn from Dianne, we think her time has come to an end. There’s only so much more we can learn, and she’s already served us so well.”

“How kind.”

“In order for her to bond with you, though, we’ll need to have access to all points of the vessel. You can keep your shirt on, but we’ll need you to unbutton the area around your chest until the mark is clear.”

Ethan deflated. Luckily, Jacob spoke up before Tessa could read the hesitation.

“Give us ten minutes? We’ll be ready then, and you can do your magic show.”

“Not magic. Energy.” She left with a small pat on Jacob’s shoulder. Ethan turned his back to Jacob as he worked on taking off his collared shirt. He huffed as he shimmied out of his binder, trying to use his bare arms to shield what was left of his chest.

“I wish I had known this. I feel naked right now.”

“You’re more upset about taking off your binder than the possibility of hostile ghosts.”

“Well, this is actually happening while hostile ghosts are still a hypothetical. And I don’t exactly think Dianne will be a risk. Unless you think so?”

Ethan glanced around his shoulder to watch as Jacob answered with a shrug. He still kept his eyes away from Ethan’s bare back and chest, giving him all the privacy he needed. “Not at all. At her core, Dianne’s a mother who wants to go home. She’s the least risky among them.”

“Well, lucky me.” Ethan slid his shirt back on and buttoned it up, save for one button which exposed his triangle mark. He hated the feeling of the fabric on his chest, but he was able to bear it. “I’m good. You can turn around now.”

Jacob turned and busied himself by folding the binder carefully. The tough fabric, now coated with dried sweat from their long voyage, was stiff in his hands. Jacob shook his head as if to say, I can’t believe you wear this, but he kept his mouth shut. When Tessa knocked, Jacob let her in. Ethan attempted to stand with his arms obscuring his breasts, but it didn’t work. He focused on taking off his shoe to expose the last mark on his foot instead.

“You ready?”

“Yeah, yeah. Stop dragging it out.”

“I promise.” Tessa held up a large stick painted with gold and purple, coiled at the tip of it like a snake without a head. A conjuring wand. She held it above her head, aimed directly at Ethan. “This won’t hurt a bit.”

*

Tessa hadn’t been lying. When Ethan opened his eyes after her chanting was done and the stick was lowered, he wondered if anything was different. He buttoned up his shirt, exchanged another few words with Tessa about the final destination of St. Catharines, grasped the keys to a new vehicle, and walked out the door with Jacob at his side—all without a disturbance. No voice in his head or chills on his body. Nothing at all.

Ethan wondered if something had gone wrong, and if he wasn’t a vessel at all. Could he fake it anyway for the cash? He remembered reading a clause in the contract about fallibility, and Jacob’s less-than-clear translation of it. If a conjuring moment didn’t stick, Ethan would have to go back and try again. If he accidentally fell into water, and the spirit was forced out via strong emotions or bodily accident, the same attempt would be made again, but much later to let the anchor object regain its power. Basically, the five thousand dollars covered all contingencies; if Dianne didn’t get over this time, he’d have to try again. No matter how long and how many days passed between efforts, the ghost was going home.

So faking wasn’t an option.

“Shit.” Ethan tapped the steering wheel when he got to a red light, debating the next step. He moved through another set of traffic lights without a peep before he decided he needed to go back. He pulled the car into reverse and made a U-turn.

“I’m here, dear,” a voice sounded and repeated inside his head like an echo. Soft voice, feminine. Not unlike his had been until some years ago when the testosterone had finally dropped it lower. Ethan shuddered at the sound. His foot went off the gas and the car coasted.

“I’m here,” Dianne repeated. “You don’t need to drive back. But you do need to drive.”

“Shit. Sorry.” Ethan pulled the car around yet again, ignoring the honks. He put on his four-way flashers and idled the car on the shoulder. He touched the centre of his chest and wondered if she felt it. Something inside him glowed as if she did. “You hadn’t said anything before,” Ethan added. “I felt normal, so I thought—”

“I figured anyone who is kind enough to take me across shouldn’t be pestered by a thousand questions.”

“Fair enough.” Ethan shut off the flashers and glided onto the road again. He was pretty sure Jacob passed him in the Mazda 3, but he didn’t want to look. Dianne may have had good intentions, but knowing that someone was inside him, inhabiting him, and they were quiet made his skin uneasy.

He’d merged onto the highway when there was the faint din of music. He checked the radio and GPS, finding them all off. It was a moment before realized it was Dianne singing—humming. She hummed a hymn inside his ear, peaceful and calming. Ethan wasn’t sure what to do about it. It was almost like having his mother or grandmother lodged inside him, some sort of strange birth in reverse, his biological chronology running backward.

“If you don’t like the song, I can change it.” There was a slight tease in Dianne’s voice. “You seemed scared of quiet.”

“I am. Usually.”

“Have you done this before, dear?” Dianne asked.

“No. You’re my first.”

“I thought so. I can only hear so much when I’m not in this form. I more so follow the sound particles than directly listen, you know? And it’s rather odd to attend a meeting about your death.”

“It’s also weird to share your head,” Ethan said. “So we’re both in an odd predicament for the night.”

“Indeed. But I’m used to that by now.”

They drove in silence for another couple miles. A slow dread built in Ethan’s stomach, making him feel as if something was going to crawl out of him and onto the highway. Dianne’s presence wasn’t upsetting or annoying; when she spoke she was kind and unobtrusive. But he was also so aware she was there, yet invisible. It was like trying to focus on the centre of a magic eye painting—impossible until it wasn’t, but then too painful to keep the image inside the magic eye for too long. Ethan flicked on the GPS for something to engage with that wasn’t some ethereal pulse point at the back of his neck. He watched as the miles ticked by.

“Perhaps I should pick another song for us,” she said after the first hour dragged. “I’m a bit out of touch with most modern hits.”

“Are there any songs in the Crown?”

“Oh, some. But not as many as you’d expect. Most chants are frowned on as a form of control.”

“Really? Didn’t figure that. I mean, wasn’t I just chanted over?”

“Enchanted,” Dianne said. “Subtle difference. And those words were mostly guidelines for the lost. Some ghosts need to be pushed. Others will dive right in.”

Ethan tried to change lanes but didn’t do it properly. He muttered curses as a car honked at him.

“Dear, are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Just a bit wobbly on my feet—or wobbly behind the wheel. Don’t worry, though. If I crash only one of us will die.”

Dianne didn’t laugh. A presence curled around Ethan’s shoulders, as if she was giving him a hug.

“You will get used to being a vessel. I know it seems hard at first,” Dianne said. She breathed out a sigh—or was that him? Ethan opened his mouth, held his breath, and let out another sigh. He worried he was already losing the thread of who he was and who Dianne was within the echoes in his mind.

Good lord. Why am I driving? Why don’t they let someone else drive me along? He thought of Jacob so fiercely until nothing else remained. He thought of the curve of Jacob’s body as he stood and didn’t look at Ethan as he changed; his black hair under the sunglasses in the morning; and the scar furling out like crushed flower petals against his face. Jacob became an anchor, reminding Ethan of the mission’s purpose and his real life outside of his own body, and the ghosts that lived there.

“I think they make you drive to keep your mind busy. And my mind,” Dianne said.

“What?” Ethan clenched his jaw. “How did you…?”

“Sorry. Sometimes when thoughts are frightened I can pick them up without even trying. The energy, you know… I can go back to singing, if you’d rather that as an interruption. I know about a dozen nursery rhymes.”

“Of course you do.” Ethan laughed. Her voice was calm now, especially as she began a nursery rhyme his mother had told him. When Dianne spoke—or sang—for extended periods of time, Ethan picked out turns of phrases or cadences he hadn’t heard in a while, since the early 1990s when she was still alive and when he was a kid. Though she was so distant from him, since she was dead and born long before he was, there had been a period where their lives overlapped. Ethan wondered if he’d met her at the four or five he would have been when she was alive, and if he’d liked her. If she’d liked him.

“I know that song,” he said though it was obvious since she could see everything about him if he allowed it to become visible. Maybe everything she said was another piece of his thought, broken off and made into a perfect mirror inside another voice. “My mother used to sing it to me.”

“Your mother has good taste. Did she know this one?”

Dianne sang something else. Ethan shook his head. “No, not that one.”

“You can learn it. Pass it on and surprise your own baby,” Dianne said. “You’ll be a good mother. I can tell.”

“What?” Ethan felt stripped bare at the vulnerability the sentiment implied—while also enraged that a ghost had crossed some kind of boundary he didn’t permit her to cross. She could ride along in his body, but his future parental instincts were closed off. “That’s ridiculous. I don’t want kids. And I certainly won’t ever be a mother. No fucking thank you.”

“Oh.” Dianne was genuinely shocked. Quavering emotion, like lingering electric shocks, passed between them.

He said nothing in apology, and neither did Dianne. As time passed, and their silence persisted, Ethan wondered if he’d somehow pushed her out of his body. Was his disgust strong enough to do so? They were coming up on the Peace Bridge into Canada, so if she had vacated, it would be over water. She would be scattered, and he would have to start all over again.

Ethan touched the front of his jacket to see if the anchor object was still there. As he waited in the line at the border, he opened up the locket and was shocked to see a photo inside along with the bit of hair. At first, he thought it was a younger version of Dianne inside. The same nose, same blonde hair, and face shape were a given—but he soon saw the small differences in chin and lips. The girl in the photo wore clothing from the 1990s, a purple sweater and scrunchies in her hair. Ethan blinked, and for a second, he saw himself in her.

“I’m sorry,” Dianne said. “I shouldn’t have assumed before. The times are changing. You can do whatever you want now. You don’t have to be a mom.”

“I know. I didn’t mean to yell either. I really wanted to get you across, and I was worried I’d have to go back. So I’m glad you’re here.” Ethan felt the same sensation as before—like a hug—as he held the locket in his palm. “Is this your daughter?”

“Yes,” Dianne said. “Her name is Crystal. I had her when I was nineteen years old. I wasn’t married, and her father eventually left before I was six months in. Times were very different than they are now. I had no choice but to raise her. And then to find a husband once again to start over.”

“I’m sorry to hear. It sounds like you made the right choice in the end.”

“I did, so there’s no need to apologize. Crystal is the best thing that happened to me, followed closely by Dennis, her stepfather. I had more kids after her too. Another girl, a boy, and now I have grandkids. And I suspect now, since so much time has passed, great-grandkids.”

“Does Crystal have kids?”

“Yes.”

“Were you close?” Ethan asked, still fixating on Crystal. He had no idea why the image of this woman, drawn out of the ether, had captivated him so much.

“Yes. Close. For a time, at least. I’m afraid… I’m afraid I may have muddied things when one of her daughters came out as gay. I thought she was raising her wrong.”

“Because Crystal accepted her?”

“No, because she didn’t. I thought that was wrong, and it drove us apart.”

Dianne paused, and Ethan shuddered. Because she was shuddering. New emotions flowed through him, making his fingers come down with pins and needles while his stomach felt like lead. He closed the locket and put it away in his shirt, but it didn’t diminish the feelings. He wondered if he’d been fixated on Crystal—or again, if it was some strange spiritual transference from Dianne. He couldn’t tell. His body boundaries and emotional boundaries blurred.

When the traffic sped up, Ethan had to focus extremely hard to not let all of Dianne overtake him. She was speaking again, but he also had to drive. He counted each line of the road and each quarter mile on the GPS.

“Crystal wasn’t in Ohio when I died. She’d moved away a long time ago, following her husband. Big corporation, a lot of money. I thought he was good for her, but I realized he was also a religious zealot. Fundamentalist. So one of their kids being gay wasn’t a good thing. Something she couldn’t handle, especially when I disagreed.”

Ethan wasn’t used to the generations of difference being reversed like this. Out of all the people, the person who had misgendered him and forced the identity of motherhood on him should have been the bigot. “What did you say?”

“I told her that we accept a lot of things in our life we can’t change. Not tolerate, but accept. I had to accept her, even though she caused me so much trouble. And because I did accept her, my life became so much better. But I’m not good with words, so I don’t think she understood. We had a fight. Didn’t talk.”

“And then?”

“Then I died. You know that story.”

“A bit of it, I suppose. Sorry.” Ethan swallowed, hands flinching on the wheels. “You know my thoughts quite well, but yours are hard to decipher. Even this conversation seems bizarre to me. One-sided, maybe.”

“Maybe,” she said. “But I do know something. I may seem out of touch to you, but I do know what it’s like to have something taken away from me. Partly by choice, and partly by fate.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. My daughter didn’t want to speak to me. We grew apart. I went to stay with my other kids, got sick, and went away. When Crystal came to the funeral, she added my hair to the locket before she left. I thought it was locked away in the casket for years, but I managed to latch onto it at a thrift store. I moved to where I thought I’d find her—only to realize she moved to Canada. And now that’s where I’m going. To find her again.”

“So even as a ghost, you’re still hoping for reconciliation,” Ethan said, scepticism evident. “No offense, but it seems a bit late. Move on. Why can’t you just let it go? She clearly has.”

“Maybe. But letting go gets you an empty house. Water I can’t cross. At least by following her, finding out where she is now, I can know for sure that she has moved on. I need to run instead of standing still.”

Ethan sighed. “Even if you have to pay homage to some Crown cult back there?”

“Yes.” Her answer was so plain and simple. She didn’t even deny the cult, or the difficulty of six full months of interviews for acolytes. “I’m not that different from the kooky people looking for a second chance at the energy worker’s door. I know my place a lot better now. Without a body, I have no home. So I’m going to follow the last fleeting bit of a home that I knew until something works out. Without a stable afterlife, this is all I have.”

“I can respect that,” Ethan said after a while. The words sounded harsh in his mouth, bitter like Jacob’s response about not attending his father’s funeral. “Even if I don’t understand it.”

“You don’t have to understand, but I appreciate the efforts,” Dianne said. “I know we’re getting close now. I can be quiet, if you don’t want me to distract you. I know the border guards can be difficult.”

“Whatever. Thanks.” Ethan tapped the gas, the car eking forward bit by bit. They were behind a Dodge Caravan filled with a family of four. Kids bounced in the back, a DVD on the screen; something brightly coloured and animated, meant to keep them relatively amused, while Mommy and Daddy tried to figure out if they had fruit on board or if there was anything to declare.

Dianne hummed. Slow and methodical, like a church hymn. Ethan didn’t mind this time around. They passed through the border guard without an issue. Ethan drove around the corner, stopping at a red light, before Dianne moved inside him.

“Thank you,” she said. “It’s so good to be here.”

“No problem. It’s still a while before the address, but we’re clear of the water now. So I suppose that means you can wander, right? As long as you stay within sixty feet of me or something?”

“More or less, yes,” she said. “That’s the ghost belt. I can go that far away from my object without dispersing and starting all over again.”

“Yeah, well, wander all you like. I do hope, you know, that you find what you need.”

“Me too. But even if I don’t, I’m glad I came.”

After a while, Ethan added, “Yeah, me too.”

The car was cold though. Dianne was already wandering.

*

Jacob met Ethan outside the border. Dianne had merged back into his body, surrounding him with another hug, five minutes ago. All told, she wasn’t gone long. Just enough for Ethan to shake out his head full of random memories and to throw up once in a rest stop bathroom.

When Jacob waved from his car with a large, friendly expression, Dianne made a noise of approval.

“Boyfriend?”

Ethan blushed. He didn’t have to answer. Dianne knew it was a yes. Or at least, a hopeful yes. Ethan hated that he was telling this stranger, this woman who was living inside him, all about his love life—but there was a safety in telling her. His thoughts about Jacob were so loud and fierce she picked up on their history in no time. And she would only be with them for another two hours at most.

Jacob knocked on the window after Ethan parked. “How’s it going?”

“Good. I think we’re about ready to leave. Can we drive this to the drop off? Do you mind riding passenger?”

Jacob nodded, his half smile present. When he was buckled up in the passenger side, he shot Ethan a look. Ethan could not tell if it was jovial or desirous because of his scars.

“What?”

“You’re saying, we, Ethan. As in you and Dianne. Not me and you. You gotta remember this is a job, okay? Keep the self separate. No offense, Dianne.”

“Uh. Of course.” Ethan swore Dianne pressed against him in acquiesce, as if she was nodding inside his skull. “I am separate. I’m Ethan Cohle.”

“Ethan Daniel Cohle,” Jacob said, boasting the tiny bit of new information he had. With a sigh, Ethan turned the key in the ignition and repeated again, over and over, just a job.

Dianne was silent afterward. There was the occasional hum or excited cry as she recognized landmarks, but she was good. Very easy. The parts of Ethan folded back into fuller expression. Jacob helped a lot with this process, especially as he slid a hand over Ethan’s knee and grinned at him in a calm-but-knowing way. By the end of the two hours on the road, Ethan found himself hoping all of the ghost trips were this easy. He could seriously get used to the job, beyond the three he needed to do.

When they pulled up to a suburban neighbourhood outside Brock University, Dianne shifted. Ethan idled the car next to a communal mailbox at the end of the street, so he didn’t look too suspicious. He didn’t have to check the address again, though, to realize they were home.

“Those must be my great-grandkids,” Dianne said.

Through the window of the house across from the mailbox, two young boys, possibly twins, were wearing red shirts and playing Wii inside; Ethan recognized the movements from the hours he’d played when he went over to an ex’s house. Another girl, maybe twelve or thirteen, stepped up next to play the game. Ethan’s stomach flipped—or was that Dianne? He didn’t care anymore, because all the feelings that surrounded him were good. Warm. Like Christmas morning type of good. He was overwhelmed and wanted to keep it this way for a long time.

He and Jacob got out of the car. They couldn’t approach the house, but they could pretend to be lost as Dianne pressed up against Ethan’s psyche. She wanted to watch her grandkids grow up. Be around them. Even if she couldn’t make things right with her daughter, she could still live out the rest of the time in the in-between world, as a ball of energy in the backyard. A good haunting, if Ethan had ever seen one before.

Jacob opened the mailbox with a key Tessa had given him. Ethan grabbed the necklace and put it inside. They locked it up, along with a smaller version of the conjuring stick Tessa had used to enchant him. Even as they stepped away, Ethan still heard Dianne’s voice.

“How does… how does she leave?” Ethan’s heart skipped a beat and he stared at Jacob in silent fear. “She’s still here. I can still…”

Jacob pulled out a form. He read off a few words in what sounded like Latin, words that were similar yet distinct from what Tessa had used to enchant him. Though he did not know the language, images like postcards appeared in front of him: one of a sky, dark and punctured by stars, followed by a blue-flamed fire as it merged into a smoke signal marking a daylight sky. A body that bloomed into flowers. The vision was like watching a private art film: nothing cryptic or scary, but surreal.

Dianne still moved around inside him.

“Nothing’s happening.” Ethan’s voice hitched with worry. “She’s not leaving.”

“I know,” Jacob said. “I’m not done. Calm down. Breathe.”

“And say goodbye, dear,” Dianne added. She was only a whisper, getting weaker. “I don’t want to go until you say goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” Ethan said aloud.

Jacob raised a brow that soon faded into intimate understanding. He said two more words in Latin (each one conjuring a new flower) before he pulled out a glass jar filled with sealant.

“For your marks, for the closing.” He unbuttoned Ethan’s shirt and dabbed the liquid there, followed by the neck, and next helped Ethan to lean on the car as they anointed his foot. It was a strange experience, one which they finished in the car itself, using it as a protective shield. Ethan still feared the ritual hadn’t worked and this would be his life forever—but his feet smarted. His neck pained him. And his chest tightened.

“Oh, God,” he said, moaning a bit louder than he realized. Tingling spread all over his whole body, then gave way to nothing. The silence of his own head startled him.

“She’s gone. That’s it. Gone.”

“Good.” Jacob grabbed Ethan’s shoulder, giving him a conciliatory rub. “That means it worked, and your job is done. I’ll call Tessa. Your five thousand will be given to you shortly.”

Ethan couldn’t form words yet. He swallowed, trying to sort out his own mind. When a door snapped open from the house across the street, Ethan looked up. The two twin boys had run outside, a dog in front of them. The girl came up behind them, yelling to wait up. When she caught up with her brothers, she glanced back and met Ethan’s eyes. There was a second of understanding before she looked away. Something strange, a secret shared.

Ethan’s chest hurt. He rubbed his hands over his mark and realized his tits were in immense pain. Did he always feel like this without the binder? He desperately wanted it back, to shield himself from what he felt as if he’d given away.

“Hey.” Ethan stuck his head out of the car. Jacob was still on the phone but appeared to be on hold. He lifted his brows to signal he was listening. “You have my binder?”

Jacob gestured to the bag he’d tossed in the back seat. Ethan found it right away and almost changed right then and there. He pulled out his phone instead, his hands wobbling over Leslie’s number. It was too late for the funeral. Much too late. She was going to work tonight as a nurse, and she’d be awake for a while yet. There was still a chance for something else.

“There. Mission complete.” Jacob flopped into the back seat. The internal light went off, casting them both in darkness. Ethan shifted closer to Jacob, needing to feel someone’s body next to his own. When Jacob’s mouth met his, he deepened the kiss as he held the scarred side of Jacob’s face.

“Good to have you back,” Jacob murmured. “What are you thinking for tonight? Come home with me and make sure you still work in all the right places?”

“I know I still work,” Ethan said. “As tempting as your offer is… I want to get changed into my binder again, and then I think I have someone to see.”

Jacob tilted his head, assessing Ethan only for a second before he understood. “Good. You should see her. Take the car.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I know you’ll return it.”

Ethan kissed him again. He didn’t let go until the nursery rhyme his mother used to sing to him—and his sister—returned in stilted, painful verses.

It was time to go, always time to go.