Spirits Read online

  “Listen to me.” His words echoed out over the otherwise-still neighborhood as the sun crested the horizon and illuminated the birds that nested beyond the reeds. “If you don’t stop, you are going to die. I can’t let that happen. I’m all you’ve got right now. Why won’t you even try?”

  Hot rage flared in her chest, and the urge to leap at him and attack built up so strong, her fingers clenched into fists.

  You don’t have to take this shit. Just take him out and get what you need.

  “No.” She said the word out loud, even though she hadn’t intended to.

  “No?” he yelled. “No? You can’t give up. I won’t let you.”

  Her muscles twitched and contracted. The back of her neck felt sweaty. She resisted the instinct to attack. She turned and walked back toward the convenience store. The alternative would be leaping at him and ripping him to shreds. The piece of her that could resist knew that would destroy everything. She didn’t want to hurt anyone, let alone end someone’s life. Tori had already done that, and it cut away at her insides. She couldn’t do it again.

  He followed her, unwilling or unable to back off and leave her alone.

  “I won’t let you do this, Victoria,” he called. His breath wheezed out of him as he jogged to keep up.

  “You don’t understand, Chris,” she told him. “This isn’t for my safety. It’s for yours. Turn around and go home.”

  “And watch you self-destruct? Come with me to a meeting. Get some help. I’ll even take you to detox if that’s what it takes. I’ll be by your side the whole way.”

  He’s not backing down. You need to get rid of him. What you need right now is another drink.

  Heat rippled over her numb, chilled flesh. It felt like a furnace sprang to life and scorched her. Anger gripped her, but somewhere deep inside, she knew it wasn’t her own anger. She understood that the thing had taken control again. She understood, but could she stop it? Her fingernails dug into the flesh of her palms. Blood puddled into the crescent-shaped wounds.

  She stomped down the road, hoping the distance would keep her from doing something she would regret. Flashbacks of smashing that bottle over Amelia’s head flitted into her mind and played back like a bad horror movie.

  He shouted, but she could barely make out the words. She felt like she was being pulled in two different directions. Her feet dashed against the asphalt. She stumbled, catching herself. Something thrashed furiously within her.

  Breath seethed through her teeth, and she turned to face Chris, who had his arms still folded defiantly over his chest. Her bare, bloodied feet slapped the road as she ran at him, fists flailing. Animal growls roared from her insides as she assailed him, batting at his shoulders and chest. He clutched her wrists and pushed her backward.

  Tori put her hands to her knees and caught her breath. He stared at her with a mix of determination and heartbreak. He cared. She saw in him someone who actually gave a damn, genuinely and completely. She saw in him a savior. But the black, twisting entity that had taken up residence in her wanted him dead. It raged inside her.

  Tori took a few steps back toward the marsh by the roadside. Her feet brushed against the muddy bank. The closer she got to it, the more the beast lurched within her. It was the same experience near the ocean, the same experience in the bathtub, the same experience every time she’d come near water. Even in the hospital, it battled as her body was flooded by water in an effort to revive her.

  Tori dashed into the ice-cold quagmire. Shock overcame her as her naked feet clutched at the slimy muck.

  “Fight me,” she screamed. Her hair clung to her face as sweat poured down. The frigid water battled against the overwhelming heat that radiated from within her.

  Chris hesitated at the bankside. He folded the legs of his jeans up to reveal pale, blue-veined legs. He waded in, arms pumping in front of him in an effort to keep his balance. He clutched her elbow and pulled.

  “Knock this off,” he growled. “Get out of this water right now. You’re going to freeze out here. Get in the car. You need help.’

  Her blood boiled. The entity clawed at her insides, and Tori jerked her elbow away from him. She reared back and punched him in the face, an action that horrified her. It was out of her control. She turned away from him, unable to watch; she couldn’t bear to see if she’d hurt him. There was a sound, a liquid gurgle. Tori waded farther into the slippery depths.

  Chris reached out again, and blind fury overcame her. She clutched his extended arm and pulled him toward her. His eyes widened in terror as he tried to snatch his arm back, but it was too late. She was upon him, smashing his face with her fist. Chris’s body stumbled, and he splashed into the water. Tori squeezed his neck and pushed his head into the brackish drink. His pulse thudded rapidly as he struggled against her. Bubbles surfaced as he thrashed around. Her hand tightened its grip around his slippery throat. The skin under his chin turned blue as she held him steady. His body continued to fight, but his movements slowed, his fight weakened. The pulse at the side of his neck slowed.

  Her grip loosened. She didn’t want to do this. He was dying. The memory of the girl she’d killed flashed in blood-red detail in her face. The teenager’s face lay dashed against the asphalt, a spray of glass surrounding her, and the same gut-rending fear wrapped itself around her.

  Water swirled and churned as he tried to push himself up out of the water. The thing that had taken up residence inside her wouldn’t let her help him. She cupped her hands, desperate to rid herself of this horrible inhabitant, and gulped down salty, slimy fluid. Tori grimaced at the awful taste. She fought the urge to spit it all back out, clutched up another handful, and drank it down. The water bubbled up in her belly, churning like a stormy sea. But the entity was not leaving. She chugged more of the filthy, mucky fluid, desperate to evict it from her body. She panted. Nausea overcame her. The churning grew stronger inside her. It knocked her backward into the marsh. She struggled her way back up and fell back to her knees. Something slid its way up from her belly and into her throat, and Tori instinctively opened her mouth and felt around for it. A sharp fang bit down on her forefinger. She recoiled then felt herself choking. Her face felt hot. A long object slithered from her mouth, followed by dozens more. They were all stark white and swam off into the water. Tori held out a hand and caught the last snake as it dropped. It tried to wiggle away, but she studied it and turned the white creature to face her. She dropped it into the water with a plunk once she saw it had no eyes.

  Chris Silver floated motionless before her, and her heart lodged itself in her throat. There was no resistance this time. Nothing held her back from clutching him by the chest and pulling him toward the roadway. She felt freer than she had in a long, long time.

  Hazy, gray water bubbled up from Chris’s sinuses. His body went limp and his lungs burned, pleading for air. Something hooked into his armpits and hefted him out of the marsh. Ice spread from his core to his extremities, and he shivered in a whole-body convulsion. Evergreens blurred like a Monet painting. The sensation of floating transformed and he felt rough gravel beneath his back. Someone leaned over him, but he couldn’t make out the person’s features. The silence mystified him so much he wondered if he was still alive.

  Fluid rippled up in his belly and gushed out onto the asphalt. He inhaled a flood of air. Dizziness overcame him, and he retched again. Chris felt something long and smooth slide down his throat, and he gagged and tried to pull it back up. Instead, it settled into his belly.

  His eyes focused, and Tori’s face hovered over his. Her voice was insistent, but it sounded dim, as if she was speaking from another room in a house.

  “Hum hon, Hiss. Hugh aff oo ache hup. Ache hup. Mum hon. Ache hup.”

  Befuddled, he tried to ask her what she was talking about, but his throat burned. A slap stung his cheek, and he jerked upright. He crab-walked away from her. Her hands waved back and forth.

  “No, no, no,” she shouted. “Please. I’m sorry. I swe
ar, I won’t hurt you.”

  He could hear her now; her voice was strained and gravelly. Chris coughed, and something squirmed. He coughed again in the hopes of bringing it up, but it wouldn’t move beyond the back of his throat.

  She knelt by his side and put an arm around him.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “What happened to you?” he choked out, a wave of tears flowing out along with the words.

  Her body shook against his. “I don’t know. I don’t know what happened to me. Something had a hold over me. But it’s over now. I can’t explain it, but it’s gone.”

  “Then you’ll get help?”

  She nodded, her soaked hair splattering him with tiny droplets of marsh water.

  “Do you need to go to the hospital?” she asked.

  Chris assessed himself. His breathing seemed normal, if a bit shallow. He could see clearly and hear well. The bandage that had been covering his face must’ve been left behind in the swamp. He decided he’d be all right and shook his head. Tori extended her arms, and he grasped her hands. She tugged as hard as she could to help him up, staggering back in the process. On his feet, he felt unstable and weak.

  “Let’s just get you back to the car. I’ll drive you home,” she said. “You need to get out of these wet clothes and warmed up.”

  Tori tucked an arm around his shoulders. Her fingertips barely reached the expanse of his back, and she strained to prop him up and walk him back to the abandoned Subaru just down the road.

  Chris could hear the ding-ding-ding-ding of the open-door alarm going off. Each step sent excruciating bolts of pain down his back. The pain he felt the most was inside. His insides felt far worse. His pride was shattered. It was the same shame he’d felt when that nasty thug slashed his face. He could’ve protected that woman, but he’d been bested. That kind of disappointment hovered over him like a phantom, and he found himself bested again. He’d tried to save someone. It nearly cost him his life, but he didn’t know how to stop. Could he keep from turning in to QuickSilver, even if he wanted to?

  Chris’s back popped when Tori eased him into the passenger’s seat. She crossed in front of the car to the driver’s side and sat, adjusted the seat, and closed the door. The silent ride home only took a minute, but it seemed like an hour of emptiness neither of them could fill. His mouth hung open stupidly, and his cheeks burned with the embarrassment of his antics. Chris couldn’t stop shaking. The vent spewed still-cold air at him, but by the time they reached the driveway, it had warmed slightly. He frowned when she turned off the ignition.

  Tori helped him out of the car and into the house and waited outside his bedroom door when he went in to clean himself up. The tiny bathroom off his bedroom wasn’t big enough for more than one person to turn around. He slipped out of his soggy, frozen clothes and wrapped his chilled flesh against the thin, scratchy fabric of a towel. The shivering subsided, and he moved to the dresser and selected a pair of clean jeans, a thick Son of Satan hoodie, boxers, and a pair of wool socks.

  Once he was decent and warm, he walked out to see Tori, still shaking, hair dripping onto the carpet. Her puffed, darkened eyes looked doleful as she stared at the floor. He didn’t fully trust her, but her expression revealed remorse, empathy, and compassion–– things he hadn’t noticed in her before.

  “Go on and get yourself cleaned up,” he said.

  A low rumble of a laugh built in her chest. “I want to,” she said. “I hope I can.”

  “No, I mean literally. Go change out of those clothes. Amelia left your stuff in the living room.”

  “But are you …”

  “I’m okay,” he said. “You get yourself back up to room temperature, and you and I will go find a meeting.”

  Tori’s shoulders shook. She slumped to her knees, water from her hair dripping onto the hallway carpet. Her body curled into itself as she sobbed. The familiar rush of adrenaline hit him like a bullet. He dropped to his knees and put a hand on her back. A flood of memories from the short time he had as Emmy’s father overwhelmed him, and tears gathered in his eyes.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered. “I’m here to help you. I’ve been where you are.”

  She looked up at him, snot rolling down her mouth, face red, mouth agape. Tori struggled to catch her breath.

  “You … you’ve … you’ve never killed anyone.”

  The words stung him. He always believed he could’ve saved Margaret and Emmy. If he’d been a gentleman and drove them to the grocery store instead of sulking at home, reading and avoiding human interaction at any cost. At the cost of their lives. Maybe if he’d been driving, it would’ve been different somehow. He couldn’t rationalize the how exactly.

  “I could’ve saved my family,” he said, gulping down a saltwater lump. “I know what it feels like to lose everything.”

  Tori wiped her face with the sleeve of her sweater. She listened. Really listened.

  “My little girl loved the grocery store. She was the happiest kid you’ve ever seen. Always smiling. Riding in the cart was like a day at Disneyland. And I was a miserable asshole,” he told her. “Back then, being around other people was … well, it was just hard for me. Shopping seemed like a stupid chore. The only thing that made it even bearable was Emmy. She had this joie de vivre. Never fussed. Most little kids her age screamed bloody murder. Sometimes, I’d push the cart and run really fast, and she would just cackle with delight.”

  He was smiling and crying at the same time. Tori stared, waiting.

  “Anyway, the day it happened, I was in one of my moods. I just couldn’t be bothered. Emmy begged me to go and push her, but I brushed her off. So, Margaret gathered her up and headed off. They were gone a really long time, and after a while, I got worried. Before I could even go out to look for them, a cop pulled up in my driveway and told me what happened. A distracted trucker didn’t see Margaret put on her brakes, and the truck barreled right into them. Emmy didn’t stand a chance in the backseat. Margaret lived a little longer. She made it to the hospital, but I didn’t even get to say goodbye. She was gone by the time I got there.”

  Tori sat up and Chris sat across from her. She held his bitter-cold hands in her own.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  Chris wanted to tell her about QuickSilver, but he couldn’t bring himself to reveal his secret identity. His mouth snapped shut again.

  “I used to be somebody,” she started, her face contorted into a half-smile. “Then I accidentally hit a kid with my car. She died. And I couldn’t stop replaying it in my head. That’s when I started drinking. For a while, it worked. Then, it seemed like the more I drank, the worse it got. By then, I couldn’t stop.”

  He nodded. It was so much like his own story. The moment was disrupted by a peculiar feeling that nestled itself inside him. The object he couldn’t quite dislodge from his throat unsettled him, and he pressed his fingers against his throat. Probably some slime or sediment. His nostrils still burned from inhaling the brine.

  Tori grunted as she stood. Chris followed her.

  “Do you think you might be ready to get help?” he asked. The compulsion to drink overwhelmed him, and he realized going to AA was just as necessary for him as it was for her.

  She slid a sweater-covered hand over her face, wiping away the tears.

  “Yeah. That’s a good idea. Let me just get myself together,” she said.

  Something occurred to Chris as a droplet from her hair settled on his hand as she walked off in search of warm, dry clothes. It was back in 1983. A sun-lit day when the shop was still out on Beach. Emmy and Margaret had been two years gone already.

  It was the kind of day that made him feel like it might be okay. Sun glinted off the ocean across the street. He hadn’t completely fallen into despair by then. He drank, but not all the time. He worked all day long in an effort to be somewhere other than home.

  A little girl in a bikini, barefoot and racing for her life and a couple of stupid kids t
railing her, zipped down the sidewalk, their feet slapping the concrete all the way. He’d been standing by the window, watching people flit about, eating hot dogs and playing Frisbee when she blurred by. She wasn’t the first girl he’d seen them harassing. The sniveling shits had been unsupervised for days, hanging out under the pilings of the gazebo, shouting obscenities to people, mostly girls and young women. He’d stomped to the door, sick to death of this behavior. The boys scrambled toward his store. He’d stepped outside and QuickSilver kicked in. He’d crossed his arms over his chest, lowered his voice a couple of octaves, and they clattered to a stop just before crashing into him. Like most cowardly turds, they darted off before he could get the police involved. The girl stood shivering behind him, her eyes filled with terror. He’d introduced himself. And she’d introduced herself. Tori. Tori Garrett. When she’d told him before, he couldn’t remember, not clearly anyway. But he knew now, without a doubt.

  They’d walked across the street to the beach together. He’d seen her parents, distant from each other. Her father had been splayed out in a beach chair, crushed cans littering the sand. The look she’d given him was one of fear as she scampered off. It was the fear that he would judge her. She was just a little kid. And it occurred to him. He had judged her. He’d judged the grown-up version of her for the things he’d done himself, hadn’t he?

  He’d asked her to come in for Wonder Woman number three-hundred. She never came in to get it. Chris pulled down the attic ladder and walked up. They’d go to a meeting soon. First, there was something he had to do.

  CHAPTER 20

  Tori wrapped her hair into a towel turban. She hiked up her jeans, which gapped at the waist.

  “Hmm. Must’ve lost a few pounds,” she said to herself.

  It felt good to be dry. It felt good to be free. The voice had left her, and she heard her own thoughts for the first time in a long time. That was scary enough. Her own thoughts told her to go get a drink. That incessant quiver worked its way down her arm again. She knew she had a long way to go, but she was ready to take the first steps.