Secret Worlds (158 page)

“Mama, I’m scared. Why are you yelling?”

She rested a hand on the top of my head, whispering to me. “Don’t cry, mi hija. It’s alright.”

“Ma’am, if you don’t come out of the apartment I’m going to have to have the police escort you out. I have legal permission to admit you into the facility. Rest assured, your daughter will be taken care of and your stay will not be permanent.” The doctor adjusted his large glasses over his nearly translucent face. My mother glared at him before turning to me and kneeling until our faces were level. The fury trickled out of her lovely features, filling my vision with her soft brown eyes.

“Listen to me. These men have come to take me away. I have to go with them.”

I shook my head wildly. “Why? I don’t want you to go! Don’t go! Please don’t go!”

“Por favor. Be strong. I love you. I love you so much. Never forget that.” She hugged me tight, allowing me mere seconds to bury my face into her neck as I tried to memorize the feeling. I was sobbing by the time she pried my arms away and opened the door for the men. The doctor led her out of the room first but I ran, heading for my room to lock myself in. Someone grabbed my arms from behind, lifting me into the air. I screamed and kicked as hard as I could. The cop that picked me up had no expression, no face—just a blank void. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to go.

They put her in the back of a white van and started driving without telling me where we were going. I sat up front with the faceless men, calling for my mother over and over again. My eyes were swollen and red by the time the truck stopped, so I couldn’t see where we were until they opened the doors. The building before me was huge and white like a hospital, but something about it seemed nothing like a place to help people.

The men led my mother away and dragged me into a tiny office with grey wallpaper and a massive white woman behind a desk. In front of her sat a Spanish woman with light skin and a deep scowl that only worsened when she saw me. Her brown hair had been pulled into a tight bun atop her head and her forehead had deep lines in it. I bawled and asked for my mother again, but they ignored me. The fat woman handed the Spanish lady a stack of papers in a folder and turned to me with a sickening smile.

“It’s okay, sweetie. You’re going to live with your Aunt Carmensita for a while until your Mommy gets better. She’ll take care of you.”

Aunt Carmensita grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the office without a word, ignoring my sniffling hiccups. Why didn’t anyone listen to me? Where was my mother? I just wanted my mother.

My aunt dragged me to the parking lot where a dingy green car sat. She strapped me into the back seat and got into the driver’s side. The car coughed to life and I became surrounded in the smell of gasoline, exhaust fumes, and the faint stench of vomit from the faded suede seats. We pulled out of the parking lot and lurched onto the street.

“Where are we going? Where’s Mama? I want Mama,” I piped up.

My aunt scowled. “Your Mama ain’t coming, niña. She’s gone loca so they put her in the house with all the other idiotas. Stop that crying. You’re lucky. They were going to put you in a home if I hadn’t come along.”

“Mama’s not loca! Mentirosa!” I wailed, scrubbing frantically at my tear-soaked eyes.

My aunt snorted, digging through her glove compartment until she came away with a half-empty pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She set the pack on the space between the seats, close enough for me to touch. She lit one cigarette and cracked my window open to let the smoke filter out, her voice flat with cruelty. “Está loca. Always been loca. If she had kept her mouth shut, none of this would have happened. Blame your Mama for this, niña. If I had my way, they would have taken you too but they didn’t. Stop crying. You’re gonna stay with me for a while and you will behave. I’ll get that crazy out of you one way or another.”

Finally, I’d had enough. Infuriated by her words, I grabbed the pack of cigarettes and threw them out of the window. She let out an anguished shriek.

“Morena del Diablo! What did you do that for?”

“Don’t lie about my Mama! Don’t!” My voice was so hoarse I could hardly yell but I managed it anyway.

“Just wait until we get home, niña. All the fancy men in suits in the world won’t be able to help you then.” She puffed angrily through her last cigarette.

“I don’t care! Liar!”

I sat, fuming, as we drove through New Jersey until we reached a wretched apartment complex that smelled of urine. As soon as she parked the car, Aunt Carmen ripped me out of the seat and spanked me, shouting about how ungrateful I was, how I was just like my mother. I did my best not to cry out, remembering my mother’s words about being strong, but it was hard to obey a woman I would never see again. Her blows rained down on my head, neck, and back like hail until hot tears were all I could see.

“Jordan?”

My eyes flew open as I heard someone say my name. Michael stood over me with a worried expression. He must have noticed how hard I was breathing. I wiped the thin film of sweat away from my forehead and sat up, eyes adjusting to the light spilling in from the window.

“I’m alright. What is it?”

“You slept right through the morning. I thought it might be time to start moving.” I glanced at the clock to confirm this. Four o’clock. Damn, he was right. I had slept for a long time. Then again, I’d stayed up well into early morning going over his case, trying to find anything I might have missed. One day left. Twenty-four hours to solve Michael’s murder or I’d burn in hell for all eternity. No pressure.

“Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?” I grumbled, motioning for him to turn around while I got out of bed. No pants. I felt more comfortable sleeping that way.

Michael obliged, answering without a single quip about me being pantsless. Weird. “You looked like you needed the rest.”

“Eh. I’ll rest when I’m dead,” I said, collecting my robe from the floor and putting it on.

Michael snorted. “I should find that funny, but it’s more disturbing than anything else.”

I shrugged. “They can’t all be winners. I don’t suppose you—”

“Made coffee?” He pointed to my nightstand, where a steaming mug of liquid paradise sat. Was I so predictable that a guy who had only known me for going on three days could figure out my morning rituals? Probably. Oh well. I drank the coffee anyway and walked towards the kitchen.

“What did you do while I slept?”

Michael gestured a hand at the table where the hospital papers were spread out. “Looking over what we gathered. I kept hoping my memory would come back, but the only thing I remembered was how to play a few songs on the guitar.”

A smile touched my lips. “I have to admit I would pay to see you play one in public. People would freak out if they saw a guitar playing itself in the middle of the sidewalk.”

He flashed me a grin. “Hey, don’t tempt me. I almost went home to grab my guitar but then I remembered I’m invisible to normal people. I’d be on Youtube by morning.”

I nearly choked on the next mouthful of coffee from laughter. “
The Mysterious Floating Guitar of Albany, New York
. Maybe it’d make it all the way to CNN.”

We shared another bout of giggles that eventually descended into comfortable silence. Wait, comfortable? Ah, hell. I must be losing my marbles.

Michael seemed to notice this so he glanced around the kitchen, searching for dishes.

“Why don’t you get dressed and I’ll scrounge up some food?”

I shook my head. “Keep it up and I won’t solve your murder just so you can be my butler.”

He chuckled. “That’s pretty cruel. You couldn’t even pay me if you did that.”

I paused. “Good point. You’d be my slave. Somehow, I like that idea even better.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Go get dressed, woman.”

Smirking, I took another deep sip of the coffee and returned to my room. No casual clothes today. I wasn’t going into the actual funeral, but I would be near the church. No sense in making the mourners worry about a woman showing up who no one knew, so it wouldn’t hurt to blend in. That meant a black button up shirt, skirt, and flats. I’d wear heels, but I might be doing a lot of walking today.

I took a quick shower and got dressed, pinning up my hair in somewhat of a bun. Many women wore full makeup—lipstick, blush, foundation, mascara, the works—but I honestly hadn’t learned how to put it on properly on account of who raised me. On my worst days, I wore foundation and eyeliner and that was it. Same for this instance.

Michael let out a low wolf whistle when I walked into the kitchen, which was pretty much the reaction I’d expected. “Don’t you clean up nice.”

“Thank you,” I replied with a flat tone, swiping a reheated slice of bacon and toast from a plate. As I munched, I plopped down in front of my laptop and opened it. Needed directions to the funeral. The lack of car would be a problem, but I had enough money to spring for a cab.

“What exactly is gonna happen with the ghost girl?” Michael asked, hovering over my shoulder as I typed.

“When a spirit sees the person or thing that caused them to stay behind, they’ll speak to it, and that’s what allows their final wish to be fulfilled. Afterwards, they just disappear into the next world and Gabriel comes to write their name in the Book of Penance.”

“Book of Penance?”

I pointed to the top of the fridge. Michael walked over and picked it up, flipping through to read the names written in black ink.

“Wow. You’ve helped this many in two years?”

“Don’t sound so impressed. I’ve still got to solve your case by midnight on Monday or I’m going to Hell, literally.”

He fell silent and then asked. “Do you always do that?”

I glanced at him, confused. “Do what?”

“Self-deprecate to push people away.” The bluntness of the comment rendered me speechless.

“Yes,” I murmured after a while. “I don’t always do it on purpose. It’s a bad habit I developed from being on my own for so long. Any other personal flaws you’d like to point out?”

“No. I figured we’d work on them one by one.”

I flipped open my notepad and began scribbling down directions to distract myself. “So what? Are you my therapist now?”

He sighed. “If only. I’d get so much cash working on your ruptured psyche.”

I arched an eyebrow at him. “Ruptured psyche? Only a musician could come up with something so poetic instead of just saying I’m effed up in the head.”

Michael shrugged. “It’s a gift.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” I closed the notepad and drained the remainder of my coffee and scarfed down the bacon and toast.

“Let’s go.”

Ghosts are tricky bastards. They’re intangible but they don’t float through everything. I ended up getting Linda into the cab by instructing her to just hover above the seat or she’d sink right through it. Adult ghosts had better grasps on the concept of not going through everything. It was much harder to teach young ones. Needless to say, the cab driver had thought I was cuckoo for Coco Puffs for whispering incessantly to thin air. Michael had a fine time laughing at my plight. Jerk.

The good news was that we didn’t have to travel for too long. The church where the funeral was held was about fifteen minutes from where I lived. I groaned when I looked at the meter in the cab, but I’d live. I told our driver to sit tight for about ten minutes and ushered the two dead people out of the back.

When we arrived, the procession had already lined up for the bringing in of the body. I felt my throat tighten as I saw the tiny white coffin housing Linda’s body. The first time I had worked with a child’s ghost, I’d cried at least three times: when I met him, when I saw his parents, and when I saw him cross over. Now I only got choked up at the funeral. It had been a rough couple of years.

The cab had let us out across the parking lot from the front of the church so nobody could see us yet. Good. I knelt in front of Linda and mustered an encouraging smile.

“Do you remember what’s kept you here on Earth?”

Linda nodded, making her pigtails bob up and down. “I wanted to tell my Mommy something.”

“Okay, sweetheart. Mommy won’t answer you but she will feel your presence deep down. I want you to go inside and tell her whatever it is you need to tell her. I’ll wait for you out here.”

“Mmkay.” The little ghost headed towards the long throng of family and loved ones until she disappeared from sight inside the sanctuary. I let out a long breath.

Michael stood next to me with a concerned expression. “This isn’t your first time seeing a kid’s funeral, huh?”

I shook my head. He sighed. “That’s a damn shame. Y’know, as much as I bitch about being dead, I don’t really mind. The world will survive without guys like me. Kids like Linda, though…makes you wonder if there’s a greater purpose for stuff like this.”

A small snort escaped me. “Gabriel always tells me to have faith. It’s hard to do when you see little girls and little boys who have lost their lives. I can only imagine how her mother must feel. Maybe something like mine did.”

Michael opened his mouth but I just shook my head again. “Don’t say anything sympathetic or I’ll cry, and I am damn sure not messing up my makeup today.”

He closed it. “Hard ass.”

“I try.”

We spent the next five minutes or so in silence. I spotted Linda walking back towards the cab, looking the same as how she’d entered. So young. She seemed to understand that she wasn’t normal, but I didn’t know if she knew much beyond that.

I smiled at her again. “Did you tell her?”

“Yes. Thank you. What happens now?”

“Have you fulfilled your final wish?”

She looked up at me with her blue eyes. Something in them changed when I said those words. The childish air around her seemed to dissipate as she whispered, “Yes.”

“Then you have nothing to tie you to this world. Your Father is waiting for you, Linda Margaret Hamilton. Cross over and walk the Earth no more.”