Chapter 11

"Are you fucking serious, Ass-Sniffer?" Nina flicked her fingers at Marty's head. "Quit bein' such a damn dingbat."

Marty batted her hands away, giving her friend a saucy grin. "What? You don't like my turban, Vampire?" She smoothed a hand over her colorful turban with a jaunty peacock-blue feather sticking out on the side. "I dressed for the occasion. So sue me."

"You dressed for fucking Halloween, weirdo." Nina plopped down in the chair next to her.

Wanda chuckled as she set battery-operated candles around the table, tucking the long sleeves of her kimono out of the way. "Leave her alone, Nina. Madam Marty looks adorable, and so do I. We dressed the part, party pooper. Lighten the frack up, grumpy pants."

Ralph fought a burst of laughter, wishing she had a kimono and a turban, too, because it was fun and it took her mind off the serious turn her life had taken.

She was about to try to contact the afterlife and invite her potential new friends to her ethereal party via a séance, of all things. It didn't get much whackier than that.

"You do know we don't need candles, right, Wanda?" Shamus asked as he sat at the head of the table, with Ralph and Darnell on either side of him.

She spread her arms, the sleeves of her jade-green and dark blue kimono hanging gracefully to the floor. "But look how pretty it makes the room? It's glowing." She grinned, flashing her perfect white teeth. "Ambiance is everything."

Nina made a face. "Sit the fuck down, Wanda. Not everything needs to be decorated to set the mood."

"Says you, the owner of Elvis on velvet," Wanda dismissed with narrowed eyes. "What would you know about setting a mood unless it involves horror and violence?"

Nina clucked her tongue, making a face at them. "Oh, yeah. Speaking of fucking Elvis on velvet—which you and your weirdo friend pawned off as a donation to a thrift store, after bullshitting me with your story about how you couldn't remember what the fuck happened to it, when I let you two Beckys redecorate. Bunch of liars."

Wanda cupped Nina's chin and planted a loud kiss on her lean cheek. "C'mon. You love your new kitchen and you know it. It has all the fanciest gadgets, and it's shiny and sleek, just like you."

Nina scowled, swatting at her hand, even if she was smiling. "Get the fuck off me, Joanna Gaines. I love my new kitchen like I love all those damn throw pillows on my couch, where I can't even sit the fuck down without being smothered to death."

Wanda planted a saucy hand on her hip. "We did that on purpose, but we forgot you can't die."

Nina began to laugh. "Funny bitch is funny." She pointed to the chair. "Sit down and let's get on with this. I gotta read Charlie a book before bed. Hurry this shit along, Ghost Talker."

"As you wish, Dark Lord," he said with a wink, then turned to Ralph, his green eyes hopeful. "You ready?"

Her stomach fluttered. Under the glow of the multiple candles, he was even dreamier, and she had to fight not to longingly sigh, but she nodded anyway. "I am. And stop worrying. I believe in you."

Nina made a face. "You probably believe in Santa Claus."

"In your line of work, do you really think that's not a possibility?" Ralph asked with a sweetly innocent tone.

Nina tipped an imaginary hat at her. "Touché. Now get this show on the damn road."

As everyone settled in, the room, color-drenched in a deep teal green, a room she'd admired for the technique used by painting everything top to bottom in a monochromatic style, suddenly felt very ominous.

"Before we start, a quick reminder to everyone, not all ghosts are like Ralph. They're not always as clear or concise as she is. Some of them are fearful, though I've never been able to find out what exactly they're afraid of. So their messages are, on occasion, choppy and jumbled. A puzzle I usually have to put together without all the pieces."

"Demons, maybe. Maybe they're afraid of demons," Darnell suggested. "The bottom feeders like to pick on the undecided and the iffy spirits. I bet some of those ghosts are afraid to talk 'cause they tryin' to do the right thing and help to make up for their poor life choices, but a demon's houndin' them to keep them from doin' it."

"Because?" Ralph asked.

Darnell tapped his finger on the table. "Because the more souls in Hell, the stronger it is, the easier it'll be to someday take over the world. They're recruitin' 'em. They remind them they weren't always good people. The iffy are afraid of the blowback. If they do the wrong thing just once, it's enough of an excuse for a demon to drag 'em to hell. That's probably why they try and give ya hints without sayin' too much. ‘Cause they wanna make things right as a last-ditch effort to save their butts."

Ralph shivered. "So essentially, they're stuck? Damned if they do, damned if they don't?"

Darnell nodded, his deep brown eyes gleaming in the flicker of the candlelight. "They're stuck in their own minds. Some of 'em would rather live out eternity without making a decision and stay on the plane where they landed, 'cause if they go into the light and the other side of it isn't so good, they can't go back. It's a roll of the dice they don't wanna make."

Ralph rubbed her forehead, pinching it with two fingers. "So maybe the guy who grabbed me was trying to steal my soul for this demon army? If what he said really was referring to the night I was killed, maybe it was the guy who killed me."

Shamus clearly wasn't one-hundred percent convinced. "Yes, he could have tried to catch you and bring you to Hell, but what you did with Gloria tells a different story, Ralph. You could bet your lunch someone would show up and demand you be released, because you're a valuable commodity to the good side. Your stay in Hell wouldn't last long. You were able to capture Gloria's spirit before it left this plane. For a demon to take a risk like kidnapping a ghost as rare as you is pretty damn bold, not to mention, a suicide mission if they got caught."

"That's also true," Darnell agreed. "But he wouldn't be the first to go rogue and sho' won't be the last."

"I had no idea you knew so much shit about ghosts, buddy," Nina said with clear admiration.

He shrugged, his big shoulders lifting beneath his sports jersey. "Well, I'ma demon. I don't like it, but I hear stuff I don't always wanna hear."

Ralph smiled at him. "I'm grateful for any information you can offer, Darnell."

"Man, I wish I'd met you a lot sooner, Darnell. It would've made investigating the afterlife a whole different story."

"Well, ya know me now. If I can ever help, all ya gotta do it call." He held out a fist to Shamus, who gave it a bump.

"Now, let's get down to business." Shamus held out his hands, clasping Ralph's, giving it a squeeze. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Is anyone here?"

They all sat in silence, waiting, everyone who could breathe holding their breaths.

The flames of the battery-operated candles flickered, the chandelier swayed a bit, but otherwise, nothing.

Shamus spoke again, his hand warm against hers. "Hello up there? Anyone available to help a guy out? We could really use some afterlife assistance. I have references," he added playfully.

His deep voice thrummed though her veins, oddly soothing despite the fear of what they were doing.

They sat in more silence and waited, until Nina got antsy.

The vampire looked up at the ceiling. "Look, you little see-through motherfuckers, we need your GD help. Get the fuck down here and lend a hand to a fellow ghost. Now," she snarled.

Almost instantly, the room became so still, Ralph would swear she heard her hair grow.

Just as quickly, it felt like someone squeezed all the air out of the atmosphere. The table shifted and a low hum buzzed in her ears.

Shamus nodded to Nina, acknowledging her threat, his expression surprised. "I think that actually helped."

Ralph's head nearly did a 360 on her neck. Nina's threat had helped. In the corner, right near a spare chair, a balding man hovered. He had a worried expression on his face as he rested his arms on his paunchy belly. His gray suit was wrinkled, but his black shoes were shiny. The black cap he held in his hands looked worn, as though he'd turned it between his fingers so much, he'd worried the color off.

She didn't know if she was supposed to address him or not, but some strange impulse took over and she nodded. "Hello. Thank you for answering our distress call. I'm Ralph." She smiled in the hopes it would encourage him to talk to her.

Nina's eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared. Ralph had learned that was a sign she was suspicious. "Somebody's here? Where the fuck are they?"

Marty gripped Nina's hand, her turban crooked. "Hush!" she hissed. "Let the man do his job."

But Shamus remained patient. "Yes. Someone's here." Focusing his eyes on the corner, he smiled. "I'm Shamus Ransom. What's your name?"

His tiny eyes turned into slits in his head. "Her!" he howled so loud, so sharp, the word echoed around the dining room, making the three women and the demon cover their ears. He'd yelled so loud, he'd actually pierced their plane.

"Fuck! Tell him to shut up!" Nina demanded, her eyes wildly scanning the room. "Jesus Christ!"

Wanda, Marty, and Darnell looked positively green.

"Heeeeerrrr!" he bellowed again, paying no mind to anyone in the room, his gaze fastened on Ralph.

"What about her? What do you know about Ralph?" Shamus asked, remarkably calm, considering this guy was breaking the sound barrier.

The ghost held a chubby finger out and pointed it at Ralph. "He wants her! He wants her! He's gonna get her!"

He. Who the blankety-blank was he?

Ralph trembled, gripping Shamus's hand. "Who wants me? Why?"

"Where is this motherfucker?" Nina asked, rising from her chair with a menacing stance, her eyes scanning the room. "Tell him to leave her alone and fuck with me!"

But Shamus held up a hand, still insanely calm. "It's okay, Nina. Please. Let me talk to him."

She groused, but Wanda yanked her arm and made her sit down, whispering, "Sit. Don't choose violence today."

The man cowered in the chair, his transparent face filled with fear when he looked to Nina, and really, who could blame him. When she glared in your direction, she could melt metal.

Ralph was quick to soothe, too, using the tone she'd always used when one of her students became worked up. "It's okay. Please. I promise, no one will hurt you, but I really need your help. Can you tell me who wants me? Do you know?"

He recoiled when she asked, then he reared upward, the bottom half of his body becoming a wispy trail of smoke. "Bad! He's so bad. Don't let him get you!"

Her stomach dropped at his fear.

"Don't listen to this chicken little! He's afraid of everything," another voice crowed, followed by cackling laughter.

The man withered in his chair when he saw who the voice came from. His pudgy face almost melting, shimmering, becoming more transparent, before disappearing completely.

But Ralph was too busy looking at the woman standing behind Marty to fret much over his absence. She was an older woman, but it was clear that in life, she'd taken great care of herself.

Her skin, though wrinkled, was soft and glowing, beyond just her ghostly aura. She wore a chic pantsuit in white, with a patterned zebra shirt, the collar popped, the thick cuffs of her blazer rolled up her arms, with several gold chains around her neck, swaying gracefully down her chest.

Her almost-white hair, cut in a trendy bob that grazed her jawbone, swung forward while her eagle eyes peered at Ralph behind gold and black square glasses almost bigger than her face.

Shamus cocked his head, but that was his only reaction. "May I ask who are you, ma'am?" he asked.

Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. "You can see me, handsome? Must be my lucky day." She winked at him.

"There's another one here, for shit's sake?" Nina said, instantly on alert.

The ghost scoffed. "Tell the supermodel I'm not just another one. I'm the one." Her voice was cultured and growly, her words succinctly crisp.

Shamus smiled at her, a smile sure to woo any woman. "The one what? The one with some answers? The one who can help us? Because we're in a real pickle, here, Ms…?"

She grinned, her crimson lips curving upward. "The name's Drucinda Perry, and I'm the one who can get you information if you need it. I'll be your afterlife spy, gorgeous. Maybe I can find out who that chump Horatio was talking about? For a price, that is."

Why did her name sound so familiar? "Your price?" Ralph asked.

Her grin only became wider. "Yep. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. You up for a little game of scratchy-scratch?"

Shamus grinned, a jaunty eyebrow raised. "How about you tell us what kind of game we're playing, and we'll talk?"

Drucinda smiled, her piercing blue eyes flirtatious as she wagged a long, elegant finger with a shiny red-tipped nail. "Then step into my office…" she growled playfully.

* * *

"The fuck I was gonna let you two nuts go alone, because who knows who the hell is looking for the Glow Stick," Nina complained. "You need my muscle. I damn well shoulda known there was some kinda bullshit danger behind you showin' up in my house. It was too easy to just figure out what the hell kinda ghost you are and send you on your merry way. It's never that damn easy."

Ralph shrugged at Nina, standing under the glow of the half moon. "But look at all you've learned about ghosts. I'm like the Discovery Channel. Where else can you get this kind of hands-on experience?"

Nina drove her hands into the pockets of her hoodie. "I have plenty of damn hands-on experience, Glow Stick. I don't need any more. And where the hell is this model guru anyway? It sure would be a fuck of a lot easier if you'd throw that fairy dust on the swanky bitch so I can see her."

Drucinda had told Shamus under no circumstances was he to sprinkle her with fairy dust. It would get in her hair and ruin her vintage Armani pantsuit.

Now, the ex-model wrangler gave a throaty laugh at Nina's words. "Tell the flawless supermodel she missed her calling. If she'd been a smart girl, she'd have walked the runway for ten years then retired to her own private island under my tutelage. If I'd discovered her, she'd have made us millions by the truckloads."

That's why Ralph had recognized her name. Drucinda Perry had owned a famous modeling agency where every supermodel who ever walked the catwalk came calling, seeking fame and fortune.

According to Google, she'd died a year ago, leaving behind her ultra-successful modeling agency, piles and piles of money, and a legacy that couldn't be denied. The articles about her said she was tough but fair, and she was still missed to this day.

When Ralph relayed Drucinda's message, Nina made a face. "Fuck her and her ridiculous clothes. I'd rather be dead than wear some damn plastic garbage bag and bilk bitches out of thousands of dollars for some shit they can't leave their house in without people pointing and laughing at 'em." Then she paused and laughed. "Oh, and wait. I am fucking dead, and I'm rich. So she can piss off."

Nina's words didn't deter Drucinda at all. She sighed as though the vampire had evoked a fond memory. "It was always the most beautiful who were the most difficult, but they were also the most profitable."

Ralph whispered up at Nina, "She thinks you're beautiful anyway. Now, let's get down to business."

They were outside a place called Beautiful Crossroads Hospice Care, where there was someone Drucinda wanted Ralph to talk to.

Ralph, her hands clammy (how was that possible as a damn ghost?), had agreed, but only because Drucinda promised to poke around the afterlife and find them some information about who was after Ralph and why.

It was all they had at this point, no one else had offered them any help. So she'd agreed, even after Shamus told her she didn't have to help if she didn't want to.

But once Ralph understood the person in the care home was dying, that strange voice called to her like it had with Gloria, mentally poking her to help Drucinda.

Now they were here, standing in the dark parking lot under a barren tree, facing the quaint brick structure. The lights inside glowed softly, welcoming those who were coming to spend the last moments of their loved ones' lives with them in peace.

Drucinda hadn't said much about the resident she wanted Ralph to talk to. Only that this person, whom she appeared to care a great deal about, had fallen into a coma and their last hours were upon them. She claimed she'd heard from others in the afterlife that when someone was in a comatose state, they could hear ghosts.

Drucinda'd had no luck reaching out to this person, but she hoped, because of what Ralph had done with Gloria, she might be able to help.

Apparently, the afterlife was all abuzz with Ralph's recent accomplishment, even if they didn't understand why she hadn't ended up in the afterlife, and that's what had sent Drucinda to Shamus's séance.

She wanted Ralph to be her conduit, to relay an important message to whomever waited inside. And Ralph was willing to try.

"Are you ready?" Shamus asked, grabbing her hand. "I can't exactly go in there with you two."

The pull of something stronger than she was capable of resisting called to her. "It'll be okay, Shamus. At least, I think it'll be okay…"

"We'll be right here if you and the mouthy lady need us. Got that? First sign of someone who wants to fuck with you, you're out. Clear?" Nina said.

Ralph nodded as Shamus threw fairy dust on her to keep her from frightening the night nurses. "Can you see me, Nina?"

When Nina didn't respond, she had her answer. Ralph let her hand slip from Shamus's, following Drucinda inside.

She heard Nina whisper "good luck, Glow Stick," as she floated inside the hospice care.

Drucinda weaved her way along the halls. It was clear she knew her way around. The facility was posh, filled with big leafy green plants, soft music drifting through the halls, and somewhere, the tinkle of a waterfall splashed gently.

The floors were carpeted in Berber, what seemed like miles and miles of cream-colored pathways. The door to each room was stained walnut, their numbers listed.

When they found room 215, Drucinda stopped. Her sharp blue eyes, now filled with sadness, searched Ralph's. "Are you ready? I know this is new for you. If you want to back out, I'd understand."

Reaching for her hand, Ralph gave her a reassuring smile. "I'm ready."

Drifting through the door, they entered the hushed room, where the only sound was the beeping of the heart machine. Painted a soft moss green, the walls held paintings of the ocean, and a beautiful mural of angels and clouds adorned the ceiling.

In the center of the room, an enormous king-size bed boasted a tufted cream headboard, with crushed-velvet pillows all around the person lying in the middle of the mattress.

As Ralph followed Drucinda to the edge of the bed, her eyes opened wide.

She knew that face. Hell, everyone knew that face.

It was Katriana Wellington.

A supermodel before they called them supermodels.

Even in the last stages of death, this woman was beautiful. Her silver hair brushed back from a lean face, all sharp angles and high cheekbones. Her slender hands had nary an age spot, though her skin was milky white, blue-green veins peeking through.

She wore a beautiful negligee of pale blue beneath the fluffy gray comforter.

Ralph knew this woman from the countless fashion magazines her mother had pored over. Long and slender, with a tiny waist, a famous walk and glacial gaze, she'd been the toast of the town in the late sixties and early seventies.

As Ralph studied the occasional lift of her chest when she breathed, she knew without a doubt her time was upon her. She didn't know how she knew, but the time for her to leave this Earth had come.

Looking to Drucinda, whose eyes were glued to this stunning woman's face, she asked softly, "She was one of your models, wasn't she?"

Drucinda lifted her chin, her slender throat creamy and white, and she inhaled. "Yes…and then she was the love of my life."