Chapter Nine – Stephanie

 

I couldn’t help it. I screamed.

Beside me, Ryder jumped in surprise.

In front of me, Jeff stumbled backwards and sprawled on his butt on the entryway floor, a foot I hadn’t realized was gone until now failing to keep him upright.

What kind of world was I living in, where people had started turning into cats, the ghost of my mother was appearing in crowds and whispering in my ear, and people just disappeared right in front of my very eyes? I wasn’t sure—all I knew was that I didn’t want to be in it. Not like this, not with one of the only people I considered family turning invisible!

It was like the horror had seized me, and all the events of the last few hours had finally had a chance to catch up. My chest burned, my throat felt raw, and my cheeks were wet. Ryder’s arm was around my shoulders, and he was shoving me inside Jeff’s house. He slammed the door behind us as I realized I hadn’t stopped screaming, and tears were streaming down my face like Niagara Falls.

From the floor, Jeff stared up at me in fear, his misty and indistinct hand up in front of his face, his eyes as wide as the wheels on a monster truck. It was like my reaction had somehow made it actually real to him, and now he was stuck with whatever was going on.

“I-I-I—” Jeff stammered out.

“Hey!” Ryder said, his words sharp despite how quiet his voice was. “Stephanie!”

I didn’t stop, though I wanted to. My brain was telling me to just shut the hell up, but my body was revolting, trying to tear itself apart.

His face seemed to materialize in front of me as he leaned down, those heavy features of his filling my vision as he squeezed both of my shoulders in his giant hands. “Stephanie!” he called again. “I’m here, okay? We’re going to figure this out. This is what I do.”

My voice cracked, my scream broke, and my tears began to dry. Had he said he dealt with this kind of thing? I closed my mouth.

“You with me?” he asked.

I nodded, my vocal chords burning like I’d just finished an all day karaoke marathon. He’d already pulled us inside and shut the front door so the neighbors wouldn’t be woken by my ragged screams.

“Guys?” Jeff asked from the floor, his voice stricken. “Maybe you shouldn’t be here? Maybe this is contagious? Maybe—”

“It’s not contagious,” Ryder said, his voice full and confident as he interrupted Jeff. “So put that out of your head. At least, I’m pretty sure it isn’t. I don’t know what it is, but it’s definitely not a supernatural disease. I’d have heard of it, by now. We used to handle a lot of the biological warfare side of things.”

I blinked, swallowed hard. “Biological warfare? And supernatural? In…in the military?”

He went to nod, but halfway through it, changed into a shake of his head. “Sort of. Kind of like one of the alphabet agencies.”

“Alphabet agencies?” I asked as he let go of my shoulders and turned to Jeff.

“He means CIA, FBI, CDC,” Jeff said, before looking to the veteran for confirmation. “Right?”

“Kind of,” Ryder said as he offered a hand to my bartender. Jeff accepted, and, together, they hauled him up from the floor of the little hall. “But one you’ve definitely never heard of.”

Jeff’s house was like the majority of the homes in Camelot, where they were built into the side of the mountain. Two stories tall, the first floor here actually opened onto the street, whereas, on the opposite side of the winding road, the door opened onto the second floor. Just a few feet down the hall, a door opened into the living room, and I could hear a TV playing some late night talk show. A braying laugh as some celebrity yelled through the audience’s cheers, “It’s true! I know it’s true!”

Ryder hooked Jeff’s arm around his shoulder, and, together, they hobbled into the blue-lit living room, with me following after them like a lost puppy. The big ex-soldier eased Jeff down onto his decades-old, floral print couch. “Comfortable?”

Jeff nodded as he sagged into the worn cushions. “Yeah. Head hurts more than anything. This?” He held up his hand, which was just as insubstantial as when we’d first seen it. He rotated it a little for us, like it was some oddity on display in a sideshow. “This doesn’t feel like a thing.”

“No tingling, prickling sensations? Nothing?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Foot the same?” Ryder asked as he squatted down in front of him and went to grab the bottom of his right leg, where nothing but an empty pant leg hung free. “You mind?”

“Nah,” he said with a glance to me. “Think it’s my foot, ankle, and calf, to be honest.” He reached down, pulling up his pant leg, and his sock just fell out onto the floor like it had been stuck in there during the wash and dry cycles of laundry.

I winced, despite the lack of gore.

It’s funny what the human mind can process once it’s in front of it. I could see the couch through his hand. Could see the little faded roses, and the tarnished whites of the cloth around the prints. Could see how every vine twined and writhed around each other. All through the palm of his hand. And, now that the novel terror of it was gone, all I could muster was a queasy feeling like I had a bit of gas.

“Here,” Ryder said, digging into his pocket. He retrieved a set of keys, began to work at detaching a key chain that appeared, at first glance, to be a petrified lizard’s leg. “Hold onto this, and don’t let go.”

“What’s that?” I asked as he handed it over to Jeff.

“A piece of a petrified lizard,” he said, as my bartender took it and looked it over.

This was just getting more and more unbelievable. “Jesus Christ,” I whispered.

“Got it from a wise woman in northern Mexico when we were going after some cartel guys who had gotten into some Aztec artifacts and were raising their cartel guys back from the dead. Supposed to ward off bad magic and curses.”

I almost laughed, but the tenseness of his shoulders and the serious tone of his voice kept me in check. “Shit,” was all I could manage, instead.

“Townspeople whispered that she was a brujah, and could turn into an owl on moonlit nights. Whatever she was, I know that thing saved my life a time or two.” Ryder pulled up Jeff’s pant leg and revealed more pale white flesh, covered by soft, wispy calf hair. “Now, let’s get a good look at this.”

Hugging myself for comfort, I hovered over Ryder’s shoulder. I craned my neck so I could get a better view of Jeff’s suddenly translucent stump of a leg. “Shouldn’t we call the CDC or something?”

“And tell them what?” Ryder replied, his words barely more than a mutter as he continued to look over Jeff’s fading foot and lower leg. “We’ve got a case of someone disappearing? I’d love to hear how Atlanta would respond to that one.”

I frowned. “Well, what else should we do?” I asked, my words clipped and my tone sharp.

He sighed as he looked back at me. “Not contact the government, that’s for sure. There’s something going on in this town, we know that. It has to be related to this witch that got burned, and the anniversary.”

This time, I couldn’t contain myself, and I gave a short bark of laughter. Both Jeff and Ryder gave me a look like I was crazy. I knew this wasn’t funny, or anything, but the idea that some curse a witch had supposedly laid down a hundred and fifty years before being the cause of it?

“Oh, come on,” I said. “The witch? You think Winifred O’Bannon is behind this somehow? Her ghost? She’s been dead for a century and a half! A hundred-fifty years, Ryder!”

Ryder gingerly pulled Jeff’s pant leg back down and went to stand. He ran a hand down his face. “You have any better ideas?” he asked. “Something’s going on in this town, that much is clear. The way people are acting, the ghosts you guys have.”

“The ghosts?” I asked, eyebrow raised. “Really?”

“Well, you’re the ones who call it the most haunted place in America, right?”

“Ryder,” I said, slowly shaking my head, “we made that shit up. No one here thinks this place is haunted, we just use the story of the witch burning to bring in business. That’s all.”

His mouth fell open, and his shoulders sagged, like he’d just been turned down for a date to the prom by the prettiest girl in school. “No ghosts?” he asked. He turned away. “Really? No ghosts?” He mumbled something else under his breath, his voice dejected-sounding.

I suddenly felt like I’d kicked a puppy.

“Wait,” he said, turning back to me. “Why were you asking, then, about whether or not I believed in them? Outside, just before we came up to Jeff’s door?”

Sighing, it was my turn to glance away. “Okay,” I admitted, hugging myself a little more tightly as I remembered Mom’s whispered words in my ears, the smell of her brand of smokes in the air. “We’re not the most haunted place in America. We did make that up, all right?”

“Okay,” both Jeff and Ryder said at the same time. My bartender was interested now, too, and was leaning forward. Not because he’d believed in ghosts or anything, I knew, but because he was curious where I was going with this. Of all the people in town, Jeff had probably been the most vocal about how ridiculous the whole ghost culture thing had been.

“But…I think…maybe, I don’t know for sure anymore.”

“What are you trying to tell us, here?” Jeff asked.

“I think,” I said, slowly at first, trying to find the right words. Trying to find the right way to say this. To find the correct phrase that would somehow fit in my mouth, and not make me feel ridiculous as they passed my lips. My eyes settled on Jeff’s. “No, I know I saw Mom earlier tonight.”

Jeff just blinked at me for a long moment. As he seemed to be letting it sink in, he looked down at his slowly ghosting hand.

“I heard her, too, Jeff,” I said, my voice suddenly more insistent. If I could make him believe me, maybe I could believe it myself. But, my old friend just kept staring at his hand. Maybe the idea of Mom coming back was too much to stack on top of what was happening to him, but I didn’t know what else I could do. I looked back to Ryder, shaking my head.

He stared right back at me, the expression on his face impenetrable.

“You don’t believe me, do you? Because even I don’t. It’s too fucking crazy-sounding.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Ryder said, shaking his head, his eyes still locked with mine. That impregnable look seemed to shift, though, to soften. He nodded after a moment. “But, yeah, I believe you.”

“You do?” I asked, my voice nearly a whisper.

“Sure. Saw my own apparition on the way into town.” He took a moment, quickly described the phantom woman he’d hit on the highway just south of town.

As he spoke, I turned away from him, sniffed loudly as I looked around the living room. Jeff kept the place tidy and welcoming, even though he didn’t have too many guests.

“So now we have ghosts,” Ryder said, “we have whatever’s happening to you, Jeff, and we have people changing shapes.”

“Jesus Christ,” I whispered. “I can’t believe this shit.”

“The witch burning, though,” Ryder said after a moment. “That’s real, right?”

“Well,” Jeff said, finally breaking his silence, “yeah. I mean, my great-great-great-grandfather was there. His wife, my thrice-great-grandma, wrote about it in her journal, about how furious she was with him for going along with everything even though she thought the woman should’ve been convicted.”

I turned back to him. “You never told me about that.”

He shrugged as he continued to work his hand, which still lay in his lap. It seemed to be returning to reality again, to be regaining its form, shape, and substance. I don’t know if it had anything to do with the petrified lizard leg in his hand or not, but it appeared I didn’t know much about anything anymore.

“How’s the hand?” Ryder asked.

Jeff held it up in front of his face, did a little wave. He seemed satisfied he couldn’t see us through it. “Feels real for the first time in a while.”

“Leg?” Ryder asked.

“Still nothing there.”

“So, this is really real?” I asked. “We’re not just seeing this shit, right? We didn’t just have a bad beer or something?”

“Oh, it’s real,” Ryder said. “Believe me, I wish it wasn’t. I’ve spent the better part of the last decade dealing with this kind of thing, and worse.”

“And even you’ve never seen anything like this?” Jeff asked.

“Lemme ask you something,” Ryder said.

“Shoot.”

“How long have you been bartending?”

“Three decades, maybe.”

“You know how to make every cocktail, yet?”

“Point,” I said.

Ryder nodded, that serious look still on his face. God, how I missed that cute little half-smile of his. “So, no, I’ve never seen anything like this. Not exactly. But, the supernatural world doesn’t always follow logic. That’s why it ain’t part of the natural world. Still, it does have some logic to it. Like, if this is a curse from the witch, and I’m not saying it is, there’d be some sense to Jeff being affected and not Stephanie. Because she’s not even partly responsible for the burning.”

And then it dawned on me. I wasn’t from town, was I? Mom had moved us down here when I was a kid, so my family wasn’t connected in the same way Jeff’s was.

Jeff leaned his head back on the couch cushion, let out a long, frustrated sigh. Down on the ground, though, his foot had begun to rematerialize. Sure, it was still a little translucent. But that was better than completely nonexistent.

“I think your little reptile charm’s working,” Jeff said, his voice sounding clearer than before. “Think it’s even helping my sinuses.”

“Good,” Ryder replied. “Hold onto it, at least until we can figure out what’s going on, and whether or not I can stop it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “All by yourself?”

He nodded, a tight, no-nonsense gesture. “Yep. Been stopping these things for a long time, why stop now? Just need to get my gear from the trunk of the car and get someplace where I can make a plan, call for some support.”

“Shouldn’t we be trying to get people away from here, though?” I asked. “Like, trying to put as much distance as possible between the town and whatever’s doing this? Ninety percent of the people living here have families that go as far back as Jeff’s. They’re all in danger, aren’t they?”

He shook his head. “If it’s a curse, location probably doesn’t matter, just the bloodline. Better for me to try and just end this thing before it gets worse. Start to research the witch, contact my people, and maybe get some help. You two just need to sit tight, chill out, and hole up here for the night.”

“Well, if it’s a curse, and location doesn’t matter, why are people in town attending the festival acting so strange?” I asked, a little bit of know-it-all creeping into my voice. “Thought about that, yet?”

He made a face before he turned away. “Shit.”

My moment of smugness was overcome by the fact that, if I was right, we were more screwed than before. This might be location-based. Which meant I might be next.

And then, it hit me: Christina, my other bartender.

“Ryder? You don’t happen to have another one of them stone lizard things, do you?”

“No. Why?”

“Because we might need one.”