CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

 

 

As soon as I walked into the dojo, Esther saw me, made a face, then popped away.

“Nice to see you too,” I said.

Kelly sat on the bleachers in front of the tatami mats clad in her gi and pants. She shook her head. There were no official classes on Sundays, so we had the place to ourselves.

Brand approached me with a grin. “So the Shademeister got lucky last night.” He held out his fist for a bump.

I just stared at him.

“Don’t leave me hanging here.” He waved his fist. “Come on, Shade. You should be smiling after the night you had. I’d do Miranda six ways from Sunday.”

“We have some training to do,” I said.

He lowered his fist. “You’re lame. I hope you never get laid again.”

“Dream on.”

“Yeah, I guess there are prostitutes.”

“Funny.”

Brand shrugged. “Actually, it’s a victimless crime. If it were legal, I’d partake every now and then. It would be cheaper than dating, and you’d get what you paid for with no bullshit.” He glanced over at Kelly.

“You’re not getting any tonight either,” she said.

“Whatever.” He turned back to me. “See there? If it were legal, I could slap a few hundred bucks down on the table at a whore house and take my pick from the menu.”

“Go to Nevada.”

“I think they charge more than that.”

“Probably.”

“Might be worth it, though.”

“Are we going to train or what?”

Kelly rose and walked over. “Your sexual exploits upset Esther.”

“I noticed.”

“She’s just jealous,” Brand said. “Girl hasn’t had any for over eighty years. Can you blame her? Maybe she could hook up with a horny poltergeist.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Kelly said.

“Why? Ghosts have erectile dysfunction? I guess they must. Insubstantial little pricks, aren’t they?”

Kelly nodded at me. “You should apologize to her.”

“For what? Getting laid?”

“She has a thing for you, Jonathan. Until recently she could pretend you weren’t sleeping with anyone because she wasn’t there to see it.”

“You have a point.”

Brand scratched his head. “Ghosts can’t get undressed either. That might make it tough to get some ectoplasmic action too.”

“Get changed and do some stretches,” Kelly said. “I’ll get some weapons out.”

I went to the men’s room to change. I kept some workout clothes in a locker. As I pulled off my shirt, my cell phone rang. I tossed the shirt on the bench and checked the phone. I didn’t recognize the number, so I was tempted to ignore it, but instead I ran my finger across the screen to answer.

“You’ve reached the ghost sex hotline. How may I direct your call?”

“Do you ever just answer the phone with a simple ‘hello’?” Sharon asked.

“I tried that once. It was a bill collector.”

“How are things going?”

“The dead folks seem to have stopped their protest movement.”

“Kelly told me you were injured.”

“I’m fine. Just a scratch.”

“You’re not allowed to get killed. I have plans for you.”

“I thought it was just a potential plan.”

“It’s looking more likely. You might be getting another round of visits from the Underworld soon. The spirits went back and they’ve been lining up again. Bob thinks they might start cycling back through once enough people die.”

“I don’t have a clue how many people die each day here.”

“In Colorado? Probably around eighty or so per day, but I’d have to search to get specifics for just the Front Range.”

“So I guess wiping out the bodies helped, and the skeletons didn’t fare so well against Kelly and Brand.”

“You should have called me.”

“I survived. It’s more important to keep you safe, though Kelly mentioned you said they weren’t looking to kill you.”

Sharon sighed. “I’m just going to have to face her.”

“She did pay me a visit or two.”

“Really? One or two? Which is it?”

“One for sure, but I remember her showing up at the hospital too. That might have been a dream, though.”

“What did she say?”

“She said she wanted you. She gave me a few days to get you to show up or she’ll kill everyone I ever met or some such.”

“Jonathan, this is important. What did she say exactly?”

“I don’t remember. I was drugged up and out of it.”

“You need to go back there in your mind. Get as close to what she said as you can recall. Take a minute if you need to, but I need to know.”

“OK. She said I had three days to find you and bring you to her or she’d kill all of my friends.”

“When was this?”

“Uh, Thursday, I think.”

“And today is?”

“Sunday.”

“That means she’s giving you until today?”

“If it was even her at the hospital.”

“It was her.”

“So what, she’s going to show up today to kill everyone?”

“Time moves differently where she is. Unless she’s near, which is possible, I suppose.”

“So what do you suggest?”

Sharon was silent for a time. “I’m going to have to see her. But I can’t do it today.”

“When will you be ready?”

“Never.”

“Not really an option.”

“Fine. Give me until Wednesday. Get her to show up someplace where we can have a meeting without too many dead people getting involved.”

“How am I supposed to find her?”

“I think she’ll find you.”

“OK, I think I know a good place to meet. The Royal Gorge bridge down in Cañon City should work. It’s a bit of a drive, but we can have a private chat without too many dead folks getting to us at any given time. And this time of year, it shouldn’t be crowded.”

“Fine with me. I’ll step through on Wednesday afternoon at four o’clock.”

“Center of the bridge,” I said and disconnected.

I sat down on the bench and thought about the first time I’d met Sharon. Of course, back then, she was a he and went by the name Charon. My mind drifted back to that encounter and conversation three and a half years ago when I died.

“You aren’t a normal man,” Charon had said. He stared at me from beneath his cowl. I tried but couldn’t see his face.

“I’m as normal as the next guy,” I said. “Where am I?”

We stood on a boat built from human bones. The boat was still tied to a pier.

“You are at the Acheron,” Charon said.

“Right. If I remember the song, I’m not supposed to pay the you until you get me to the other side.”

“Song?” He snapped his fingers, and the chorus from Chris DeBurgh’s “Don’t Pay the Ferryman” started playing around us. Magic can be fun and useful if you don’t even need an iPod. The chorus ended and Charon nodded. “I always liked that song.”

“You have any AC/DC?”

Charon laughed and snapped his fingers, and “Hell’s Bells” started playing. “Or maybe this,” he said and sure enough, “Highway to Hell” started up.

“You’d be great at parties,” I said.

“I like your world, Jonathan Shade.”

“How do you know about it?”

“We’ve had cable for years. Magically, of course. We need to keep up with world events to some degree. Do you remember how you died?”

“I’m dead?”

“For nearly thirty seconds in your world. Observe.” He waved his hand, and an image of me lying on the street with a gunshot wound to my chest shimmered in the air. Kelly knelt over me, trying to give me CPR.

“Shit,” I said. “That’s right. That asshole shot me.”

“Indeed.”

The image shimmered more and faded away like ripples in a pond.

“Why are we talking? Shouldn’t I be going toward the light or something?”

“Many souls come here. Many go elsewhere. Many simply end. Some are reborn.”

“So I’m dreaming. Heaven, hell, nirvana, purgatory, reincarnation, New Age shit, all of it can’t be right.”

“The religions and beliefs of your world don’t have any bearing on reality, Jonathan.”

“But the Greeks had it right?”

“The Greeks and the Egyptians knew of us to some degree, but the stories in your world are a far cry from reality.”

“And the Bible?”

“Total nonsense.”

“So there’s no god?”

“Not in the sense you mean. There are beings who would be perceived as gods by your people, of course, but that’s a different thing altogether.”

“What the hell is going on?”

“I’m going to give you a choice. If you wish to be dead, I’ll take you across the Acheron and your soul will go to the Elysian Fields until we need you for a mission. You will not really be you anymore, of course. When you go on your mission, you may recall bits and pieces like perhaps your name, but mostly you’ll simply be sent to handle something for us from time to time.”

“Us?”

“The residents of the Underworld. The ruler is Persephone.”

“The wife of Hades? Some Greek girl he kidnapped? Ate a pomegranate or some such and had to spend six months here and six months on Earth, brought about growing seasons and all that?”

Charon laughed. “Your mythology is off.”

“OK, so I got a C in Mythology. Granted, that was back in high school, but I’m pretty sure I’m right.”

He shrugged. “Persephone was not kidnapped. In any case, she is my . . . boss. If you choose to remain dead, she will be your boss too.”

“I don’t want to be dead.”

“You shouldn’t answer before you know the terms.”

“That’s true but I’m not sure I care about the terms. I want to live.”

“Hear me out anyway. You are a man of particular power.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your kind is very rare.”

“My kind?”

“You are in balance.”

I gave him my patented confused look.

“Your parents were both powerful wizards,” he said.

“So?”

“You are not a wizard.”

“I figure magic is a recessive gene and I didn’t get it.”

“No. You are perfectly balanced between dark and light magic. As such, you can’t use magic, but you are also unaffected by direct magic.”

I was already dead, so I didn’t see the harm in nodding. It wasn’t something I admitted to many people because when people know things about you, they can have power over you.

“We may need someone like you.”

“We?”

“The collective we. Not simply the Underworld. The Oracle has foreseen a potential danger. It may or may not come to pass, but if it does, you would be very useful. If you say no, we’ll find someone else. It’s unlikely we’ll find someone of your nature, but we work with what we have.”

“So the price for me living is that I owe you something, but you won’t say what. As you pointed out, I shouldn’t be big on favors to be named later.”

“They rarely work to your advantage,” Charon said. “But at the moment, you’re right. You don’t have much choice.”

“If I’m dead, you’d send me anyway. Is that it?”

He shook his head. “Only a living soul has any real chance.”

“And it will probably kill me.”

“Yes, but you’re already dead and this will grant you several more years of life. That said, if I give you back your life, there are things you’ll need to know.”

“Such as?”

“You will face misery unlike any you’ve known before.”

“That’s part of life.”

“True. You will be partially connected to the afterlife. There will be side effects.”

“What kind of side effects?”

“You’ll be able to see, hear, and communicate with ghosts.”

“As long as I don’t have to sing ‘Ghostbusters’ and get sued by Huey Lewis, that doesn’t sound too bad.”

“I suspect you’ll find it to be mostly a good thing until you learn the true nature of such things.”

I started to ask about that, but he shook his head.

“There may be times when you wish you said no and had simply died.”

“When my parents died, I used to wish I could have died with them, so that’s nothing new.”

“Life may get far worse than you would ever wish even upon your worst enemy.”

“You’re wasting time, Charon.” I pointed at the sky. “Brain function is important to me, and if I’m lying dead in the street up there, I need to get back before there’s permanent brain damage.”

“Underworld is a name given by your people; we’re not really beneath your world. We’re in another place. Time moves differently here. We have time.”

“Cool. So we can go back in time to before I got shot and—”

“It doesn’t work that way. While I have some powerful magic, I can’t alter time. You will go back after you’ve been shot and killed. You’ll climb back into your body and recover from your wounds.”

“Magic doesn’t work on me. How can you heal me?”

“I can’t. You’ll heal naturally. The shock to your system killed you. I’m going to allow you to get back into your body, and the shock of stepping back inside will restart your heart like an electric shock.”

“So I’ll still have to recover from the bullet wound. Great.”

Charon reached into his robes and pulled out two silver coins. “If you ever need me, this payment will cover the price of one soul. Use this wisely. Do not touch the coins. When you step into your body, I will slip them into your pocket. Wear a glove or shake them out onto the counter and slip them into an envelope or container, but do not ever touch them until it’s time for the payment.”

“Whatever. So you’re coming with me?”

“That is forbidden.” He leaned forward and whispered, “I will be part of your life from this day forward, Jonathan. I will answer questions for you and try to help you if I can. I will make myself known to you, but you can never tell anyone my true nature.”

I looked at him as if he were crazy.

He remained close and whispered in my ear. “You will know me as Sharon. I am not permitted to leave, but I simply can’t remain here any longer. It’s time for a change. I want to live in your world.”

“You haven’t told me what’s expected of me.”

“Perhaps nothing. Perhaps everything.”

“Just roll the dice and see what happens, eh?”

“Come with me.”

He extended a finger from his cloak then drew a line in the air. It shimmered and he parted it with his hands. He gripped my arm and pulled me through.

We stood on the street where I’d just been shot. It was raining.

Kelly still knelt beside me, giving CPR. “You can’t die!” she said. “I need you!”

Charon gave me a nod. I hesitated.

He took me by the shoulders and stood me up before my body. “Talk to you soon,” he said and pushed me backward.

I fell into my body, and pain shot through my chest as I drew a deep breath and struggled to breathe. It hurt like hell. My lung had collapsed, and I suspected it was filling with blood. I coughed and fought to get enough air.

Kelly’s eyes lit up. “Hold on, Jonathan! I’ll get you to a doctor!”

An attractive woman approached us, but Kelly didn’t seem to notice. The woman knelt, winked at me, then slipped two coins and a business card into my pocket. She mimed holding a phone to her ear and mouthed, Call me.

In the weeks of rehabilitation that followed, it occurred to me that while the fact that I’d gone along would be enough to infer that an accord had been reached, I’d never officially said yes.

And in case you’re wondering, Kelly tracked down the guy who shot me and ripped his head off.