Spirits Read online

  “Tori?”

  It was Bracken’s voice. She jerked back her hand as if she’d been bitten by a snake.

  The love you need ain’t gonna see you through.

  Words gurgled in her throat, angry words she would’ve shouted. That he was a liar and a scumbag. That he had a lot of fucking nerve to show up now after leading her on like that. But she couldn’t speak. The boiling-hot fluid gurgling in her throat kept her from ripping into him. It took her a moment to realize a plastic tube blocked her from moving her mouth.

  Her eyelids fluttered open. A beeping sound rose up in her ears, and the space between beeps shortened.

  “Hey, you’re awake. I hope you don’t mind that I came. Chris Silver spent the whole day here with you, but he had to run home real quick. The cops called me this morning and told me they needed me to identify you. Lady, you scared the shit out of me. I even went back to the Seaside when I couldn’t reach you on the phone, and I saw what a mess the place was. What the hell happened, Tori? Why did you do this to yourself? I tried to call Amelia, but she must be out of town. Sometimes, her mother-in-law needs help, and she has to leave quickly.”

  Amelia?

  “Anyway, listen. I don’t know what happened last night. I don’t know what was going through your mind. And I felt like I … I don’t know. I guess I felt really guilty for what happened between us. That was a dick move on my part, and I’m sorry. That’s all, really. I’m sorry. I hope you don’t mind, but the officer was able to track down your mom in Exeter. She can’t make it down, but the officer promised to keep her posted on your condition. I don’t know how much of this is getting through to you, but I’m worried about you.”

  The door clicked and timid footsteps clacked against the floor. Tori anticipated the visitor as they brushed against the curtain. The bandage on his cheek came into focus first. A tall man with silver hair and a salt-and-pepper beard peeked around the curtain. Tori sat up straighter, tangling herself further in the mess of wires. Pain shot through her legs.

  “Victoria?”

  A fragrance, wood smoke and apples and cotton cloth, swirled around him, and she knew it was the man who’d given her his business card when she drank without a care at the bar. She wondered if it was her Chris Silver.

  “So glad to see you’re awake. I was here overnight, but I needed to get a shower and change into some new clothes. The nurse told me you’d probably be out for a while. Oh, I’m sorry. I guess I should introduce myself. I’m Chris. Chris Silver. Gotta say, you gave me quite a scare last night.”

  He had a lopsided smile with a dimple on the right side. He may have had one on the left, but the large bandage was probably covering it. His chocolate eyes were framed by long lashes. Sometimes, when he blinked, the lashes fluttered against the skin below his eyes. The specks of silver hair gleamed in the overbearing fluorescent lights. His presence comforted her, and she wished she could get Bracken to leave, but she couldn’t communicate that desire. She pawed at the tube, hoping someone might remove it for her.

  Chris reached over her head and buzzed for the nurse. A few minutes later, a woman in a white uniform breezed in.

  “Everything okay? Does she need anything?”

  “I think she wants that tube removed. She’s trying to talk,” Chris said.

  The nurse studied her. She pulled a flashlight out of her uniform pocket and tracked it back and forth. Pain shot through Tori’s eyes, and she blinked.

  “I’ll have to bring the doctor in before we can remove anything. That’s his call. She does look better. Let me go grab him, and we’ll see what our next steps are.”

  The nurse left, and Tori felt the tremors roiling beneath her skin.

  It’s been a while since you last had a drink. Isn’t it about time for another?

  It was still inside her, worming, snaking, taunting. Her head pulsated. The sound of the door clicking open hammered her skull. She put a hand to it and drew back a palm dampened with sweat from her hair.

  The doctor, a short, squat guy with a receding hairline, flipped through her chart and made a series of grunts and hums. He glanced at her over the clipboard.

  “Well, welcome back to the world of the living,” he said.

  Flashbacks of the horrors she saw the night before in that dark, restless place made the words crawl down her skin. He approached the bedside and pulled the curtain around them, blocking out Chris Silver and Bracken.

  “All right now. This won’t hurt, but you might vomit.” He turned to the nurse and said, “Can we get a pan over here, just to be safe?”

  He twisted something connected to the tube and pulled. Tori felt it leave her trachea, and the hot liquid built up inside her throat spewed forth. The nurse pushed the metal pan under her chin, and yellow, putrid-smelling fluid flowed into it.

  “Mmmm,” the doctor said. “Always delightful.”

  Tori already despised him. His words sounded snarky and irritated her like the itch in the center of her back that she just couldn’t reach.

  “So, how long have you been an alcoholic?” he asked.

  She coughed so hard her throat ached, and a blot of blood spattered on the white sheet covering her. Tori would’ve throttled him if she’d had the strength. How dare he?

  She tried her voice.

  “I’m.” The word came out hoarse and strained. “Not.”

  His lip lifted into a lopsided smile that made her irrationally angry. Her face burned, and she wanted him to leave. She could breathe fine on her own now, and she wanted out.

  “Why don’t you get her some water?” he said to the nurse. “Looks like she should be all right. And when you’re ready to admit you have a problem, there are plenty of programs that can help. I’d like to observe you another day, and then you’re free to go home.”

  She wanted to say something else, but the acrid burn in her throat prevented it. He pulled the curtain back.

  Bracken nervously edged his way to the bed.

  “Is she going to be okay?” he asked the doctor.

  The doctor raised his hands up in despair.

  “This time, sure. Next time, I don’t know. There might be permanent liver damage already. She looks remarkably healthy all things considered. And that’s probably the most concerning thing of all. She’s developed a tolerance. All I can say is that the next several days are probably going to be her worst nightmare.”

  Tori resented that he was talking about her as if she wasn’t even there. He turned to leave, and she relaxed a little, but Bracken’s presence aggravated and humiliated her. She just wanted to be left alone. Genuine shame scorched her that anyone had seen her this way but especially that he had. The nurse followed him out.

  Bracken looked like a man who’d just pissed his pants––and the piss was rapidly cooling.

  “Hey, listen. I should really get going. I picked up a couple of things from Amelia’s place. The cops let me go in to grab your purse and ID. It’s over on that chair. I’m glad you’re feeling better. If you need anything, I left my phone number on the table over there.”

  He bent at the waist and kissed her cheek. Her hand swatted at him involuntarily.

  Chris pulled a gauche-looking mauve chair next to her bed.

  “Are you going to be okay?” he asked, his voice low and soft. It cooled the fiery burn under her skin.

  “Yeah. I think so,” she said. It still hurt to talk.

  “I think I’m going to stay. If you don’t mind, that is. I’ve got nothing better to do, and you seem like you could use a friend.”

  Tori licked her dry lips and smiled. The delicate skin cracked at the small movement.

  “Were you the one who saved me?” she asked.

  Chris’s eyebrows furrowed.

  “No. The guy who almost hit you with his truck brought you to the hospital …”

  “That’s not what I mean. Your shop. It was on Beach, like a long, long time ago, like back in the early 80s, right?”

  Chris leaned forward
. “Yes, that’s right. How’d you know that?”

  “Do you remember, there were these little shits. They chased me.” A rattling cough erupted from her chest. “These two kids. I was wearing a bikini. Hell, I didn’t even have anything to put in the bikini. I was just a little kid. And they chased after me, and you stopped them.”

  Chris shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Do you want a drink of water?”

  Tori held up her hand. “I know it was you. You told me to come in for a Wonder Woman number three-hundred. But I never did get to come in, because Mom was pissed off at Dad for getting shitfaced in public again, and we went home not long after that. You walked me back to the beach.”

  A light flickered in Chris’s eyes.

  “My God,” he said. “I do remember that. I can’t believe you do. That must’ve been, oh, 1983. That was when Wonder Woman three-hundred came out. Yeah, my shop was on Beach, and I remember that little girl.”

  He stared into space for a few seconds, and Tori watched a tear trickle down his face. He brushed it away with the back of his knuckle and snickered at his own emotions.

  “I guess sometimes you never realize how your actions stay with someone,” he said.

  Chris extended his hand, and Tori clutched it, feeling a beam of warmth just like she had walking back to the beach more than thirty years earlier.

  “Can you help me now?” she muttered. “I don’t want to die.”

  His bear paw of a hand swallowed her own, and he gave her a tight-lipped smile.

  “Yes,” was all he said.

  CHAPTER 16

  Pain jagged down Chris’s neck. He propped himself up on his elbows and rolled himself off of the folding chairs. The room was still dark. Monitors beeped. The door creaked open, and a nurse sneaked inside. Tori slept, a halo of recessed lighting framing her features. Her face glowed a sickly white.

  The nurse silently took down vitals from the monitor. Tori’s eyes fluttered open, and she and the nurse exchanged muted words. Tori opened her mouth and took a thermometer. Next, she extended an arm for a blood pressure cuff. There were more muffled words, and the nurse shuffled back out of the room. Tori rolled onto her side and caught sight of Chris looking at her.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Just couldn’t get comfortable.”

  “Why don’t you just go home?” she asked. “You don’t have to stay here all night.”

  He shook his head and smoothed her hair away from her forehead, a fatherly gesture. “You’re looking so much better. I’ll bet they’ll discharge you in the morning. You’re going to need a ride.”

  Her eyes widened. “I don’t have anywhere to go,” she confessed.

  “Will you stay with me? I can get you some help.”

  “I doubt you can help me,” she said. “It’s probably best if you don’t get involved.”

  Chris felt the adrenaline stir.

  “Of course I can help. You need some rest, some good nutrition, and someone to get you to AA every day.”

  “I don’t have a …”

  “Listen, lady. You almost died. Don’t tell me you don’t have a drinking problem.”

  Chris felt the heat rise from his Nighthawk T-shirt. He wondered for a moment if he was getting himself in over his head, but QuickSilver was coming to the forefront again. It was like a freight train gaining speed on a track. He couldn’t push it back once it started. All he could do was flow with it and do his best to help. Logically, he knew this woman was probably trouble. Logic did not play into the life of a hero. Still, he tempered himself and took a breath.

  “I want to help,” he said. “Besides, who else do you have? I have a spare bedroom. You can stay there until you dry out, but my rules are non-negotiable. You go to AA every day.”

  Tori’s head fell back against the pillow. Her shoulders rocked up and down. He feared he might’ve made her cry until he noticed her forearms were also jerking up and down. Her chest followed, and before long, her whole body quaked and convulsed. Chris lunged up and pressed the call button for the nurse. She ran into the room and saw Tori pitching up and down in the bed. She darted back out. Tori’s eyelids flickered up to reveal only the whites. Seconds ticked by, but it felt like an eternity as he watched foam bubble up from her lips.

  The door slammed open, and the nurse brought in a crew of white-clad people who set about checking monitors and injecting clear liquids into her IV and holding her steady as muscles clenched and tensed. A man in all white grabbed Chris by the shoulder and escorted him out of the room.

  “Sir, I’m afraid you’ll have to leave the room now. You can sit in the waiting area. Someone will be out to update you shortly.”

  Chris’s stomach sank. He rounded the corner and saw a few people sitting in reception area chairs. A television suspended on a metal arm displayed Dr. Phil’s disdainful frown. A woman wept in front of him, and he scowled. The caption below read: YOU CAN FOOL YOURSELF, BUT YOU CAN’T FOOL ME. GET REAL. THE FIRST STEP TO GETTING HELP IS ADMITTING YOU HAVE A PROBL––

  Chris turned away and paced in front of the bank of windows on the far side of the waiting room. There was nothing else to do now.

  A swarm fluttered around her in the dark place. Voices swirled in the ether, hushed under the thrum of batting wings. They threw invectives at her like stones.

  The weight of butterflies crushed her chest, and she struggled to take a breath. Tori felt herself slipping. She closed her eyes, and the pressure released. Her eyes flicked open, and she watched a bespectacled face move in front of her own. A receding hairline glowed in the overhead lights. The lights looked like giant, white eyes reflected in the lenses of his glasses. A straight slit of a mouth curled into a smile.

  “She’s a lost cause,” the man said. It was that smart-ass doctor from yesterday. “Let’s just give up. She’s not even worth the effort.”

  A laugh, sharp and bitter, cracked in her ears. Other voices were there, too, both male and female, and they joined in a chorus of laughter.

  “You’re right, Dr. Ellison. Why waste our time? It’s not like she’s going to stop drinking. I guarantee you, she wants a drink right now.”

  The words resonated in her head. She wanted a drink. She would’ve wrenched herself up, pulled out all the wires that tethered her to the bed, shoved aside all the people working on her, and walked barefoot to Harrington’s Liquors for a bottle of anything. They were right. She didn’t deserve to be saved. She couldn’t even argue.

  The doctor’s face faded into the blackness and was replaced by another face––this one so familiar, it froze her blood. The woman gave her a happy wave, extended her middle finger, and pressed it against her lips in a kiss.

  “See you in Hell, bitch,” the angry, metallic voice growled.

  A spark within Tori refused to go out. She focused on coming out, resisting the saturating pull of the dark room until it began to turn gray at the edges like the beginnings of sunrise; forms like aliens prodding and poking her moved into focus. A beeping sound rose up. A light stabbed at her eyes, and the man with the receding hairline clutched the sides of her mouth with his fingers, pressing her lips into a squishy lump.

  “I think she’s coming around. Heart rate?”

  “Forty-five and rising.”

  “BP?”

  Something squeezed her arm, huffed, and hissed.

  “Ninety over sixty.”

  “She’s not out of the woods yet, but I think she’ll make it.”

  The beeping noise became steadier and stronger. The voices in her head went quiet, and she breathed deeply. Her head sank into the stiff hospital pillow, and she slept.

  CHAPTER 17

  Tori pulled on the sweater Chris brought for her to wear home. The shirt she’d been admitted in was ripped and covered in road grit. Chris’s navy blue sweater sagged past her fingertips and fell around her knees. She resembled a small child dressed in Dad’s clothing.

  “You about ready?” he asked.


  She nodded. “Yeah. Whenever you are. Listen, I can’t thank you enough for this. For everything. I’m ready to get sober. I never want to end up like this again.”

  He clutched her shoulder and led her out the hospital room door.

  The ride home was quiet, too quiet, and Chris flipped on the radio to the sports station to hear the Nets score. He clicked it back off once his curiosity was satisfied and cleared his throat.

  Tori expected him to say something, but he never did. They passed a convenience store at an intersection, and he clicked on the turn signal. Bud Light and Coors neon glowed in the store’s windows. Thirst overcame her. The gaping maw opened up, and her arm quivered with the familiar urge. Chris made a left onto a crushed gravel road, and the car shuddered along, past briny marshes, cattails, and reeds. The lighthouse loomed in the distance. She could see it if they crested a hill but lost sight of it when they made a right and pulled into Chris’s driveway.

  The house was small but tidy. It had a brick façade and a small, withered garden in the front. A bloodied zombie gnome clutched its way out of the ground near the porch steps. Cute if a bit creepy, she thought, clutching her purse close to her torso.

  He jogged up the stairs ahead of her and unlocked the door.

  “Excuse the mess,” he said. “Make yourself at home.”

  She stepped inside. The place was dark and dingy. Soda cans were stacked on the coffee table. Popcorn littered the floor, spilling out from an upended bag.

  “Come on. I’ll show you to your room. It’s a little sparse.”

  She followed him down a narrow hallway to an empty room painted dusky pink.

  “Well, where should I …”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” he interrupted. “I have an air mattress. Just have to get it pumped up. We can bring your stuff in later. Don’t worry.”

  Tori gave him a pained smile. He was kind. Too kind, really, but she couldn’t hide the disappointment at the accommodations. Still, she wondered what her alternatives might be. She had no idea if the cops were looking for her. She had no idea where Amelia was for that matter. The thought sent a shiver down her spine.