Crossed Out (20 page)

“Steph, the ground.” Dylan pushed away from the wall. “Tiles....”

Mark’s face twisted into a grotesque scowl. “I’ve had enough of you.” He glanced over at Dylan.

With one flick of his hand, Dylan rose up in the air and slammed hard against the wall. Moaning, he slid down like a broken doll.

No, this can’t be happening.
Think, Steph. Think
.

I looked down and noticed two broken tiles, with just enough space between for a cross. This must be where Mark had died. Why else had he lead both Dylan and me here?

With all my strength I slammed the talisman into the open space between the broken tiles. “Go back where you belong and leave us the hell alone!”

The earth rumbled in reply then the noise faded away.

“Noooo…!” Mark’s inhuman shriek went to silence.

Chapter 30

A blast of air entered the room, knocking down a faded ‘Daily Coffees’ offering board. Mark stumbled back, horror etching his face.

“
Good,” I yelled. “What does it feel like to be on the other end? Not so great, huh, slime bucket?”

I pressed down on the cross with all my might. Pain ripped through my forearm, but I refused to let go. The pain escalated, ricocheting through my shoulder.

As I pushed on the talisman, I felt the strength of released spirits flow into me. Each wave calmed me. Mark would not get away so easy this time.

I turned back to him and gasped.

Nothing remained of Mark’s wavy hair. Oozing sores covered his whole body, including disgusting blisters around his mouth.

Eww.
Memories flashed back of me kissing … that putrid mess. A sour taste coated the back of my throat. I thought I’d puke for sure.

“Don’t... send... back!” Mark’s words slurred together.

A stringy white line hooked into Mark’s body, as if ripping out his soul. His face convulsed in agony. I watched in horror but wanted him to suffer more.
Am I sick, or what?
I waited for the darkness, like that bad guy in the movie
Ghost
.

What remained of his body lay on the ground. Ashes and some other disgusting stuff seeped out of his black leather jacket.

Whoa, so this is it.
Bad un-dead guy tries to screw girl,
goes to hell, end of story.

Wrong.

Another beam of light floated into the basement, stopping right in front of Mark’s spirit. His inhuman howls ceased. His spirit straightened, a foggy image of his corporeal self materialized – surprise covering his face this time.

What’s going on?
The dead girls turned toward the new beam.
All signs of their abuse had disappeared. Happiness shone on their faces. The light erased the grossness of their bodies and replaced it with what they must have looked like before they’d been killed.

Some of these spirits had been dead for at least a decade. Most wore outdated clothing complete with big hair. Omigosh, I’d seen this before back at the coffee house with Mark. Had all those people at the coffee house been dead too?

I blinked and they moved next to Mark. I could make out another woman’s spirit. Why was she here?

She smiled. Her big poofy hairdo reminded me of Cura’s mom. Her stretchy pants, long shirt, and flats glowed like Allison’s did. Somehow this woman knew Mark. And she was more than just a friend.

“Mark, it’s time to go,” she said. Her voice sounded very young. She reached out to him, but he backed away.

“Tiffany?” He cupped his head and sobbed. “It’s not possible. I can’t go back. Not now.”

“Steph,” Dylan whispered, “check it out.”

I inched away from the wall, pushing aside the broken poster of another forgotten rock group aside. I was afraid, yet curious to see what would happen between this Tiffany and Mark.

“Come,” the woman said. “I understand your sorrow. I understand why—”

“No!” Mark said. “I’m past forgiving. I did all this for you.” He spread out his hands.

“But she blew it.” He glared at me, his eyes sharp as knives.

Tiffany took a step and put her hands on his face, turning him away from me. “I’m here now.”

Mark searched her face, then broke away, sobbing “No way you can forgive me. I did it to be with you, Tiff. I couldn’t stand being without you.”

“You won’t be,” Tiffany said. “Come.”

“You’ll stay with me?” Mark’s voice softened. “You won’t leave me?”

“Yes.” Tiffany reached out and touched his face. “I’ll be with you.”

Emotions rushed over Mark’s face. Disbelief, doubt, and ... hope?

The scene was touching, but anger still boiled inside me.

“Um, I hate to interrupt this Hallmark moment, but this guy lied to these girls and he tried to get me to join them.”

“Steph!” Dylan hissed. “Leave it.”

“What? How can you say that?”

Allison turned to me. “It’s okay, Stephanie. You’ve done your job. Let it go.”

Let it go?
Fury buzzed through me like an angry hive of bees. I wanted vengeance, damn it. Not this.

But before I could reply a weird thing happened. With a loud crack, all the spirits, including Mark’s, rushed through the window.

Darkness filled the room. A faint tinkle of music was the only remnant of their visit.

Across the room, Dylan was speaking into my battered cell phone, which apparently had survived the battle. I caught only a few words, “…help needed, coffee house, now.”

He snapped the phone shut and went to the one victim of this whole mess – Dr. Anthony.

I pushed my anger against Mark aside and rushed to the counselor, kneeling at his side.

Lying against the back wall, his crumpled body moved, but only slightly. Loose coffee beans, broken boards, and torn rock star posters were scattered around him.

How could I have been so selfish? My heart raced. Looking intently at Dr. Anthony, I saw the knife handle sticking out of his chest. A huge dark stain spread across his polo sweater. A few blood drops plopped on the off-white tiles.

“Knew you could,” Dr. Anthony whispered. “Other Light Bringers, not.”

At the end of each word, he gurgled. Blood trickled out of the side of his mouth.

I looked away from the wound in his chest, not wanting him to see the fear I felt.

“We need to get him help,” I yelled out to Dylan. “Now!”

“Don’t worry, I called 911,” Dylan said. He took off his denim jacket and wrapped it around Dr. Anthony’s shoulders. I watched as Dylan’s treasured jacket became coated with the counselor’s blood.

Dylan touched my shoulder. Concern clouded his eyes. I could tell he was scared crap-less too. “Come on. Don’t leave us, okay? You still have a lot of explaining to do.”

A gurgle sound came from Dr. Anthony. My gosh, even though he was in serious pain, it sounded like he was laughing.

Through my tears I glanced at Dylan, who shook his head. Even though I had never liked shrinks, I felt as if that knife had plunged into my heart. He’d only been trying to help. And what had I done? Ignored him and gone behind his back with Mark.

“Yeah, we really drove that Mark guy back. He won’t be hurting anyone for a long while.”

Out of nowhere, another light filled the room. Not as intense as the one that came for Mark, but it still stung my eyes.

“Whoa,” I said. “What’s going on?”

In amazement I watched as the knife slid out of Dr. Anthony’s chest with a sickening
slush
. Crimson blood coated the silver. The knife floated to the empty sack – the one the counselor had brought to the coffee house. It rested on top.

“Steph.” Dylan nudged my shoulder. “Look!”

More light rushed into the gaping hole in the counselor’s chest. A sizzling sound zapped across the room. In wonder, I watched as the light crisscrossed the wound, making something similar to laser stitches.

Everything seemed so unreal. I glanced at Dylan and noticed he had the same expression that must be on my face. He let out a low-pitched whistle.

“Who are you?” I whispered, ignoring the loud pounding of my heart.

“Light Bringer,” Dr. Anthony said with a pained smile, “like both of you.”

“And my mom,” I said, still not believing what I’d seen, “is she one of you too?”

Dylan gave me a funny look. “Your mom? What are you talking about?”

I stared back at Dylan. “Come on. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure this out. It seems your grandmother is also part of a sorority group. A group,” I nodded to the counselor, “of rescuers.”

I sat back on my heels, as the realization that I wasn’t alone hit me hard. This would come in handy later. Still, the whole idea that my mother had been holding out on me bugged me. But I’d deal with that later.

Dylan sat back, staring at Dr. Anthony, then me. “You know if you’d told me this a week ago, I’d say you were nuts. But now I’m not so sure. Wow, so we’ll heal like this too?” He pointed to the counselor’s now healed wound.

“Jeez,” I said. “I’d remember if I could heal myself. Something like that could come in handy.”

With some difficulty, the counselor sat up and looked at his chest. Dark spots covered his sweater. Through a large hole in the fabric, I could make out his heavenly stitches, changing from an angry red to a soft pink. “I can’t do this on my own,” Dr. Anthony said, “neither can either of you.”

Looking back at us, he winced.

“Well, maybe not,” I replied. Maybe using this power healed him. I didn’t know which freaked me out more – him almost dying or his supernatural surgery.

Dr. Anthony looked at Dylan and motioned to the far corner of the room. “Can you get me that bag?”

Dylan looked first at me, then at the counselor. “Sure,” he said, as if weird things happened every day.

“What is this thing, anyway?” He picked up what remained of the toy-like thing the counselor used in the battle against Mark.

“Good question,” I said. “I’ve been wondering that myself.”

“A Buddhist prayer wheel, from Tibet,” Dr. Anthony explained. “We use more than crosses – whatever is required.”

“Whoa.” Dylan turned the prayer wheel in his hands. “Man, I can’t believe this worked.”

“Duh, Dylan,” I said, remembering that Muslim girl I’d rescued. “Remember the other side is for everyone.”

“Okay, why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Dr. Anthony watched our exchange with a half smile. He took a couple deep breaths.

“Dr. Anthony, you sure you’re okay?” I was worried he might be worse than he was letting on.

“Yes,” he answered, breathing unsteadily.

“Well, thanks for everything. I mean it. If I’d listened to you in the first place none of this would have happened.” I swept my hand at the chaos that remained in the building.

Dylan picked up the knife and turned it over. “I can’t believe you didn’t die. I know I should be freaking out but after Mark messing with me, nothing surprises me.” He put both the blade and broken prayer wheel inside, and brought the sack over.

The high-pitched sound of sirens outside meant help had arrived.

“Need to leave,” Dr. Anthony said. He started to get up and teetered to the side.

“Whoa.” Dylan grabbed him before he fell. “One thing at a time. You’re still hurt.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” The counselor tried to smile. “You two are the heroes.”

“You need help,” Dylan added. “Dr. Anthony, I know you might be some super hero dude or something, but you should have someone check you out.”

“Yes.” The counselor pushed his glasses back up his face. “I do feel a little light-headed.”

“Uh, I wonder why?” I couldn’t resist adding. “Battles with the undead kind of take it out of you. That and you lost a lot of blood back there.”

Heavy pounding signaled the paramedics were upstairs. The door opened and someone shouted, “They’re down here!”

“Hey,” Dylan shouted. “Over here!”

“What do we tell them?” I whispered to Dylan as the heavy shoes thudded down the stairs. But he didn’t have a chance to answer.

Two paramedics rushed over and took the counselor from us. “Lay down.”

“What are you kids doing here?” one of the paramedics asked, putting his equipment on the ground.

“It’s a long story,” I said.

“Loss of blood … readings are down,” the other medic reported. “Let’s get him out of here.”

They strapped Dr. Anthony to the gurney and carried it up the stairs. Dylan and I followed. As we left, I took one more look downstairs. The only things that showed our battle with Mark were ripped posters, tattered coffee bags, and broken chairs. And of course the lone soot-covered cross underneath the small window – it proved that a rescue had happened.

I didn’t want to think about Mark. Outside a couple of police cars waited. Great. I should have realized this would happen.

A police officer walked up to us. “Hey, you kids. Not so fast, we need to talk.”

“Isn’t that the kid who’s been missing?” His partner asked.

“You two have a lot to explain,” the older cop said. “You’re coming back to the station with us. I’m sure your parents will be wondering what you’ve been doing.”

I watched as they placed Dr. Anthony inside the ambulance. Its lights flashed bright red as it sped toward Mercy Hospital.

“Yes, officer,” Dylan said, “these scary guys roughed us up and Dr. Anthony saved us, except he ended up getting knifed.”

I had to do a double take. Did I just hear Dylan right? Boy, I didn’t think Dylan had it in him to fudge on the truth. Well, he wasn’t really lying. And I doubted the police officers would believe us if we told them what really happened.

Sure enough, the older officer’s gray eyebrow went up. “Yeah, sure. Why you kids are so fascinated with old deserted places is beyond me. Let’s go back to the station and call your folks.”

Great.
But I didn’t care. Dylan took my hand and smiled. A warm feeling came over me. No matter what happened when we got back, I knew if I had Dylan by my side, it’d be okay.

Epilogue

Later in the week, Dylan and I visited Dr. Anthony at Mercy Hospital. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’d only had a minor operation instead of recovering from having a knife thrust into his chest. But the clear liquid in the IV hook-up next to his bed showed he still needed to regain his strength. I guess heavenly intervention could only help so much.