Twenty-Four

TWENTY-FOUR

Shania and I stand near the cliff edge. I'm not as close as I was the other day—not after what happened on the stairs and in the bathroom. As we gaze out, I squint at what looks like a funnel cloud.

"Tell me those aren't bugs," I say.

Shania swats a stray one from her face. "These definitely are." Then she sees where I'm pointing and groans. "I thought they were almost gone."

"Hopefully they'll make landfall someplace else."

"I never knew bugs could, well, bug me so much."

I laugh. "It's right there in the name. But yes, I keep wondering why I can't just ignore them when they aren't biting."

I look out over the water. "Once I get an idea in my head, it's just like these damn midges. I can't ignore it, even when I want to. What we're doing—the séances—they're triggering something from my past, and the more I think about it, the more the two events start to overlap and merge."

"That can happen."

"There's a commonality, too." I cross my arms and gaze out at that cloud of midges. "When I was in high school, some friends and I held a séance. Things went wrong, and a girl died."

"Oh my God."

I pass her a wan smile. "Yep. I don't talk about it. Even Jin doesn't know."

"Did Anton?"

"That's… the problem. Remember I said we were classmates briefly? In high school?"

"Oh!" Her eyes round. "He was there? He went to the same school, I mean?"

I consider how to word this, being honest while not divulging too many details. "My friends and I held two séances. At the first one, we heard voices that seemed to mean we'd contacted the dead. Apparently, it was Anton and his friends."

"Ah. They pranked you."

"Yep, though I didn't know it until a few years ago. But it was the second séance where my friend died."

"Was Anton there?"

I shake my head. "He was at a movie with his friends."

"Your friend had a scare, though? A heart attack or something?"

I almost say yes. This is an easy answer. Pretend Heather was scared to death and that I'm worried that Anton and his friends might have spooked her the first time and that carried over to the second séance. But that doesn't get to the core of my fears. If that had happened, then it would be a tragedy, but not the boys' fault in the way it would be if one of them actually murdered her.

I shake my head. "There was some confusion. We all separated, and she was murdered. Someone was arrested and convicted."

Her hands fly to her mouth. "Oh my God. I am so sorry, Nic. That must have been terrible. I can see how this week would trigger the trauma. Two séances, both involving Anton in a way."

"It's not just that. I…" I take a deep breath. "Before Anton died, he said he had a secret, and then he told me something that wasn't really a secret. Also, when he confessed to pranking us, he felt far more guilty than he had any reason to be, and I thought that was just Anton being sweet, but now I'm worried…"

She looks at me and waits. I think the answer is obvious, but when I don't say it, she prompts, "Worried about what, Nic? That he was there? That he saw what happened and couldn't save your friend?"

I shake my head. "I'm afraid… he was there, yes, but not just that he didn't save her. That maybe he…"

She continues to stare in obvious confusion. Then she says, "You don't think he killed her, do you?"

I nod, and she gives an exhale of a laugh, as if she'd been holding her breath. Then she rubs it away. "Sorry, I shouldn't laugh. I can see you're serious, and I understand how this…" She waves toward the house. "… could all be a bit much. The excitement of actually making contact, and then that nonsense Dr. Cirillo gave about dark forces. He shouldn't have said that. It's obvious that Anton is here, and he's reached out to you in the way he can, and maybe he'll do more tonight."

My cheeks heat. "So I'm being silly."

"No, no." She squeezes my arm as if I'm the much-younger friend. "There's a lot going on, and resurrecting those old memories is naturally going to cause confusion between the two, like you said. The link is Anton, so your exhausted brain is leaping on that and thinking it's a bigger connection than it is."

"Okay."

She peers at me. "Do you honestly believe Anton could have done that?"

"I… I should say no. He was wonderful. Sweet and gentle. But Dr. Cirillo mentioned a case of a boy who seemed sweet and turned out to be a sociopath."

"You know what I think? That Dr. Davos Cirillo needs to keep his damn mouth shut more often."

I bite my lip to keep from smiling. She looks so stern, even that mild profanity ringing false, like a child trying it on for size. That relaxes me a little.

"He didn't say it in connection with Anton," I say. "It was an unrelated conversation that preyed on my mind. There's something else, too. My friends and I conducted our séances at a spot where someone had died, and we thought we'd conjured the killer. That killer turns out to be related to Anton."

She frowns. "So you may have summoned the spirit of Anton's murderous relative?"

"I… I don't know about summoning but…"

"You think this relative possessed Anton? Made him murder this girl?"

That wasn't what I was thinking. More like that sociopathy might run in his family. But now that she says this…

"Maybe?" I say. "I just can't get the idea out of my head."

"Then you need to ask him."

"Ask…?"

"Anton. Tonight. At the summoning. Bring up the killer's name. Ask him about it."

"Ask whether he murdered my friend while possessed by the spirit of a psychopath relative?"

She gives me a look. "Of course not. Unless you want to tell Dr. Cirillo and Jin what's going on."

" No, " I say emphatically.

"So just mention his relative's name. Mediums always give you the chance to ask the dead any questions. Ask Anton about his cousin Esther or whatever. Just like that. For Dr. Cirillo and Jin's sake, pretend you're doing it to confirm his identity."

"‘If you really are Anton, tell me about your cousin Esther'?"

"Sure, something like that. See how he reacts. What he says." She squeezes my arm again. "I don't think Anton did this. I never met him, but I know you and now I know Jin, and you both think Anton was a great guy. That tells me he was. But you need to ask the question and get it answered and out of your head. Right?"

I hesitate. Then I nod.

I don't want this séance. I don't want to ask Anton anything about Roddy Silva. I want these last few days to have been a bad dream, and I'll wake from it and realize all this séance nonsense has been exactly that: nonsense. I'm grieving and lost and maybe a little bit—okay, a lot—broken.

I've told myself I'm looking for answers, but that's bullshit. The only question I want answered is "Why?" and that's not even a question as much as a primal scream to the universe.

Why did you take him?

I found someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, and we had so many plans, and when "till death do us part" came, it was supposed to be me.

It was supposed to be me gone and him left behind. What the fuck do I do now? Sit and wait to die?

I'm angry at the universe, and I decided contacting Anton would somehow fix it, and the universe laughed in my face and made it worse.

I want to wake up now. Take this nightmare as a cautionary tale, and move on with my life.

"Move on with my life" is the real answer to my question. What do I do now? Keep going. Hold fast to those amazing memories of Anton and move forward. In questioning those memories, though, I've tarnished them.

The universe didn't steal Anton from me. It gave me a gift—a few years of incredible happiness with an incredible man. Now I'm questioning that.

What's the saying about looking a gift horse in the mouth? I've pried those jaws open, and I'm peering into a future hell where the man I loved was actually a killer.

The four of us meet in the breakfast nook. That's where Cirillo has set up tonight's séance. I'm the last one to join, dragging my sorry ass in, clutching the box of Anton's cremains. I put it in its place of honor and then take my seat.

"Nicola?" Cirillo says.

I glance his way.

"Are you all right? I sense you don't want to be here tonight."

"I'm just tired," I mumble.

Shania shoots me an anxious look. Now that she knows I have concerns, I can't make an excuse to skip this.

"I'm fine," I say, straightening.

Jin frowns over at me. "We don't need to do this, Nic."

Cirillo clears his throat. "Jin is correct. However, if we don't, we run the risk of losing Anton."

Asshole.

Ooh, I really am in a mood, aren't I? Still, Cirillo is not my ally here. He has an agenda, and I'm angry about that because we picked him specifically for not having an agenda. He's a scientist, and he promised anonymity and impartiality.

Knowing he's hoping to use my story for grant money feels like trusting a doctor to give an unbiased opinion and then discovering he's getting kickbacks for the medication he put you on. I cannot rely on Cirillo having my best interests in mind.

Jin lowers his voice, as if only I can hear him. "I'm happy to cancel if you want, Nic, but maybe…" He shrugs, looking sheepish. "I think Dr. Cirillo is right. Anton is here."

"I wasn't going to cancel," I say. "I'm just not sure I'm fully committed to it tonight."

"Well, you need to be," Cirillo says, with a laser stare that tells me I'd better not fuck up his séance.

My séance, asshole.

"I'll do my best," I say, saccharine sweet, "but if we don't make contact, then I understand it's entirely my fault, and I accept responsibility for my own disappointment."

His lips tighten a fraction, not enough for the other two to notice.

Too bad, asshole. My trauma isn't your fucking meal ticket.

"We should have a ghost story," Shania blurts.

Jin obviously struggles to hide a wince. "I'm not sure that—"

"No, it's fine," I say. Anything to distract me. "So, whose turn is it?"

Cirillo looks my way. "Nicola? I have a feeling you might have an old story for us."

I go still. Very still. My gaze slowly pivots his way, but he's just sitting there, watching me.

Does he know about Patrice?

"I have one," Shania cuts in. "Let's save Nic for tomorrow and the last séance. This one's mine."

Cirillo clears his throat. "Actually, I think we'll skip tonight's ghost story. Can we get yours tomorrow, Shania?"

Her look of disappointment has me opening my mouth to say no, let her tell her story. But everyone—Shania included—quickly gets into place, and Cirillo is beginning before I can object.

After a few words, I tune out Cirillo's invocation and force myself to relax. If I self-sabotage, I'll blame myself for it later. I'm really good at that.

Anton? If you're out there, we need to talk.

Yes, I'm using that voice, the one you always said reminded you of when your parents said they needed to talk to you and you knew you'd done something.

But even when you knew it wasn't going to be a happy conversation, you always talked to me. You never blew me off or made excuses.

Please. I'm sorry if anything I say upsets you, but understand that I need to know, and if the situation were reversed and you had questions, I would absolutely want you to ask.

I'm beating around the bush, and I hate that. Shania said to reach out and just ask, and Anton and I had the kind of relationship where I could do that. But imagine wanting to ask your spouse a vital and personal question and needing to do it before an audience.

Anton, I'm sorry. I just need to talk to you.

A sigh ripples past, and my eyes fly open. I look around. Everyone else seems to have their eyes shut, but Jin must be peeking because he glances over, frowning. My headshake tells him to ignore me.

When he shuts his eyes, I whisper as softly as I can, "Anton? We need to talk. Please."

That sigh again, and in it, I feel a frisson of something like frustration. I open my eyes with my face turned away from Jin.

"Are you there?" I whisper.

That bristle-static sense of frustration increases. Then it vanishes, and everything goes silent, preternaturally silent, as if I've fallen into a vacuum. I'm straining so hard that when I hear something, I jump, and the table jumps with me.

"Nicola?" Cirillo says. "Did you experience something?"

I shake my head, and Cirillo's voice firms, as if I'm a stubborn child.

"Nicola? If you're experiencing anything—"

"I will tell you," I snap. "Something startled me. Now I'd like to focus on figuring out what it is."

He holds my gaze, every bit the professor with an uppity grad student. I only meet his stare. If he wants a battle of wills, I can give him one.

"All right," he says. "I trust you will let us know when you hear something."

"I will."

Everyone goes quiet again. I'm not even sure what I had heard—it really happened so fast that my body jumped before my brain could process. Then the sound comes again. Someone breathing.

I peek and look around the table. Everyone's mouth is closed. Whatever I'm hearing, it isn't from them.

I shut my eyes.

"Anton?" I whisper.

The breathing draws closer. I grip the edge of the table to keep from jumping. The sound is a rhythmic in and out, in and out, closer, closer, right at my ear, so close I expect to feel breath on my skin. Then it stops. I tense, every muscle held tight like I'm bracing for the jump scare.

"Janica…"

I stop breathing, and I hang there, tight enough that the slightest touch would send me flailing. But no touch comes.

"Anton?" I whisper.

A footfall answers. Then another. Footsteps walking away.

A board creaks.

"Did you hear that?" Shania says.

We all look, and she covers her mouth.

"Sorry," she whispers. "Should I not say anything?"

"What did you hear?" Cirillo asks.

"A board creaked." She points.

"I heard it," I say. "I thought I heard footsteps, and then came the creak."

"Let's all listen," Cirillo says.

We go quiet, and I still hear footsteps, slow and methodical. Another board creaks, and Shania lets out a yelp, along with Jin saying, "I heard that," and Cirillo adding a murmur that he does as well.

"Anton Novak," Cirillo says. "You seem to be with us. Can you confirm that? Nicola hears footsteps. If you can hear me, stop walking."

The footsteps continue. Cirillo glances my way, but I shake my head.

"Anton?" Cirillo says. "Can you make yourself known by extinguishing a candle?"

The footsteps grow closer to me. Then they pass.

"Nicola?" Cirillo says. "Would you try, please?"

Here's my chance. Ask about Roddy.

Only I can't say it right away. I need to lead up to the question.

"Anton?" I say. "If you can hear me, will you stop walking, please?"

The footsteps continue, as if he's slowly circling the table.

Circling. Considering. Stalking.

Stop that.

"Anton?" I say. "I think you were trying to speak to me. Please try again."

That frisson of electricity, making me gasp.

"Did he?" Shania says.

Cirillo's look silences her, and I swallow and shake my head.

"I think I'm spooking myself," I say. "The footsteps just keep circling the table."

Stalking.

"Anton?" I say. "Please. If you're here—"

A whisper sounds, and I jump. We all do. Jin is on his feet first, staring toward the door.

"Did everyone else hear that?" he asks.

"I heard something," Shania says.

An indecipherable whisper comes from the next room. Then the voice becomes Anton's.

"Nic," he says, then another word I can't catch and… "Love you."

"Did you guys hear that?" Shania says.

"Holy shit, yes." Jin heads for the door. "It came from in here."

He takes off at a jog, and then Shania is on her feet, following. Cirillo grumbles, but he goes after them.

That's when I realize the breakfast nook is empty. I can say whatever I want.

"Anton?" I whisper. "It seems we're alone now." My voice cracks on a half laugh. "If you lured them out, thank you. Better make this quick."

I take a deep breath. "I have questions about what happened with Patrice. I'm sorry. I know that you're Roddy Silva's nephew and—"

My chair flies back. One second I'm sitting there, trying to speak calmly, and then my chair flies backward and I hit the floor, my head smacking into the hardwood, the world going gray as I let out a startled cry of pain.

I don't have time to process what happened before Jin is at my side, helping me up.

"What happened?" Shania says.

I hesitate only a split second. Then I see Jin's expression, and I know if I admit my chair was yanked over backward, he'll haul my ass out of this house.

"I fell," I say, making a face as I rub the back of my head. "I was getting up to join you guys when my leg caught the chair and I went over backward."

I don't pause to see their expressions. I just make a show out of rubbing my head and grimace as I roll my eyes.

"Sorry, guys," I say. "I messed up your séance, being a klutz."

"It's your séance," Shania says, "and you didn't mess up anything. We heard Anton, Nic. We really did." She looks around. "Right? What did you guys hear?"

Jin glances at me, obviously not ready to ignore the fact that I just fell flat on my back.

"What did you hear?" I ask.

"He said your name," Jin says, after a moment of obvious reluctance to change the subject. "Then that he loved you. When I got in there, I heard ‘Everything's okay,' and something I couldn't catch."

"He said ‘I'm fine.'" Shania's voice was thrumming with excitement. "He said ‘Nic, I love you, everything's okay, and I'm fine.'"

"I didn't catch all of that," Cirillo says, "but I heard enough to confirm that it was an audible male voice, and I heard at least a third of those same words."

Shania turns to me, her face glowing. "Anton was here. He was really here, Nic."

I nod, unable to speak, struggling to make my expression as close to happy as I can. It must work, because she throws her arms around my neck.

"See?" she whispers. "He's fine. Everything's okay."

Everything is not okay.

Not by a long shot.