31 Ghosts 2018: October 16 – No Good Deed, part 4

The conclusion! For realsies! 

After the third night of nightmares Elaine and Andrew let Anne get a good night’s sleep.

“Are you certain, Signora?” Andrew asked as they both stood over Anne sleeping peacefully.

“Yes,” Elaine said. “I heard they do something like this in the military psychological operations – push, push, push, then let up.” She counted on her fingers, “One, they’re rested so they can better reflect on what has transpired. And, two, it lulls them into a false sense of security – the worst is past, they’re going to be okay.”

“Signora, you were not in the military, no?”

“Nah, I think I saw it on Investigation Discovery channel.”

“Che?”

“Cable.”

“Oh,” Saint Andrew nodded. “What shall we do while she sleeps?”

Elaine shrugged. “I don’t know. I suppose we should take the night off and regroup tomorrow.”

“If you believe you will be okay…”

“Sure, Andrew, I’m going to wander but I’ll be fine.”

“All right, Signora. Until tomorrow,” and he winked out of existence.

Elaine turned to regard the peaceful Anne. “Sleep well,” she said. “It’s only going to get crazy from here…”

The next day Anne woke refreshed and reinvigorated, feeling better than she had in… she didn’t even know! Though little things started going wrong almost immediately: Rushing to the elevator the right heel of her stilettos broke, the barista at Philz made her coffee a decaf, her Uber driver’s brand-new Infiniti stalled as he pulled into traffic and wouldn’t restart. Once she finally got to work her laptop wouldn’t start. When IT finally managed to get it running, it wouldn’t connect to the wireless network. By the time she met Steven for lunch at Boulevard she admitted she felt at her wits end.

“Seriously, Steven, good thing this happened after I got such good rest,” she started in on her Italian Mozzarella Di Bufala and heirloom tomato salad. “I can’t imagine what a basket case I’d be if I was as frazzled as I felt yesterday.”

“Indeed,” Steven agreed as he cut into his Wagyu beef bavette. “You were a mess.”

Elaine stopped with fork in the air. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, honey. I’m agreeing with you. You were a mess yesterday.”

She set the fork down on the plate. “So now I’m supposed to be perfect every day?”

“Honey, no, that’s not what I’m saying–“ he was interrupted by a buzz from his phone. He took the black phone out of his pocket, looked at it, and set it down on the table.

“Anything important?” she asked, trying to read it upside down from across the table. The screen went black before she could decipher anything.

“No, just work,” he said. “Look, this has been a rough week for both of us. Let’s get away this weekend. Maybe someplace up north? Mendocino?”

“I’d like that,” she said, argument forgotten.

“Okay. I’ll find us a nice AirBnB or see if we can’t get one of those cottages up there we stayed at when I was away on ‘business’” he added the air quotes with his fingers.

“I knew that fucker wasn’t on business,” Elaine said.

“Sounds lovely,” she said, hooking his leg under the table with her foot.

“It’s a date then. If you’ll excuse me, I have to use the little boy’s room.”

“Emphasis on ‘little,’” Elaine added.

“Signora, would that count as a ‘sick burn’?” Saint Andrew asked.

She shrugged one shoulder, “meh, not my best effort.” She waited for Steven to walk away from the table before she placed her hand on his phone and focused. A moment later the phone vibrated. Anne looked over noticing the phone still on the table. She looked away deliberately. The phone buzzed again. Then again almost immediately.

Anne stole a glance towards the bathroom then reached over and looked at the phone. A number without an associated contact name. Three messages. “See you in Mendo this weekend?” followed by “Does she suspect?” and finally, “It’ll be over soon.” Mouth agape, she hurriedly put the phone back on the table where Steven had left it.

Elaine put her hand over the phone again and focused. Steven came back and picked up his phone, saw no messages, and set it down again. “Miss me?”

“You have no idea,” Anne said, taking a bite of mozzarella and tomato.

Anne dreamt again that night. Steven’s house again. He called to her upstairs as she climbed the stairs. Even in the dream she knew how this would play out, and yet she still moved forward.

“It doesn’t have to happen like this,” the quiet voice came out of a shadow she hadn’t noticed.

She recognized the voice. “Elaine?”

Elaine stepped forward, blood smeared down her head. “It doesn’t have to be like it was.”

“What… what can I do?” Anne asked.

In response, Elaine held out a small Glock pistol.

Anne’s eyes widened as she looked at the gun, then at Elaine, then back to the gun, then to the deformity in Elaine’s head where Steven must have hit her with the hammer. She took the gun, tucking it into her robe.

“Be strong, Anne,” Elaine said, then stepped back into the shadow.

“Honey? Are you coming?” Steven’s voice came from the bedroom. Anne looked back and Elaine was gone. She could feel her heart beating quickly. Taking a deep breath, she gripped the gun under her robe and moved to the bedroom.

She stepped into the bedroom and feigned surprise not seeing him in bed.

“Steven?” she said, looking around.

“Right here,” he said quietly right behind her.

She spun, gun pulling smoothly from her robe and pulled the trigger until the gun clicked empty. Steven collapsed forward, his arm still upraised with the hammer in his hand.

Anne stood over his lifeless body, panting with adrenaline. Bloody Elaine stood next to her. “What have I done?” Anne asked.

“What you had to. Girl power!” Elaine said, and held her hand out for a fist bump.

Anne awkwardly juggled the empty gun to her other hand and tapped Elaine’s fist with her own, then everything went dark.

“’Girl power,’ Signora?” Saint Andrew stood next to Elaine regarding Anne sleeping soundly with a smile on her face. She sighed and turned onto her other side.

“Yeah, that might have been too much,” Elaine nodded. “Still, not bad.”

“No, a few more nightmares and escapes and I think she’s ready for this weekend,” Saint Andrew said.

***

By the time the weekend did arrive, Anne could barely manage to get in the car with Steven. She had tried to buy a gun, but learned about waiting periods. The clerk offered her a shotgun, but Anne left the store with a can of pepper spray and a folding knife. She checked them in her purse before she buckled her seatbelt in Steven’s Range Rover.

“All set?” he smiled broadly.

“Oh, I am,” she said icily.

“Something wrong?” he frowned.

“No, sweetie,” she said with her best happy voice and fake smile.

“Can’t wait to be alone with you!”

“Uh huh…” she said quietly.

“What?”

“Me either!” she beamed.

“This is going to fascinating,” Elaine said from the back seat.

“I hope it is not a long drive,” Saint Andrew said.

“Want to skip ahead to their cottage? Get things ready?”

“Yes,” Andrew said, “Let’s.” They disappeared.

After several hours, they pulled onto a dirt driveway and the headlights shone on a small, dark cottage. Anne knew there were other cottages nearby – she had seen them during the day on previous visits – but the space between them and anyone else never seemed ominous before.

“Wow, that seemed longer than before,” Steven said cracking his neck from side to side.

“An eternity,” she said.

“Well, maybe not that long…” he said, opening his door. The two managed their way into the cottage. When they closed the door, Steven pulled her tightly to him for a passionate kiss. He stopped midway and looked at her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“You seem… distracted,” he said.

She stepped back. “I… I just need to get refreshed. She moved to the bathroom. “Be right out!” She closed the door behind her and locked it.

Steven stared after her as the sound of the shower came on, then shook his head and went to the fireplace. He frowned not finding pre-set wood and kindling like he was used to. He saw logs of various sizes stacked neatly next to the fireplace, but no kindling to get the fire started. Making a mental note to complain to the management, he stepped outside and around to the side of the cottage where the wood was stacked. There he found a small hatchet and proceeded to chop a log into smaller bits of kindling.

Inside, Anne sat on the closed toilet, steadying herself as the room filled up with steam. After a few minutes she took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. Turning the water off, she started for the door but noticed something in the fogged-up mirror: “R U Ready Anne?” Anne paled as she felt her blood run cold. She reached into her purse and opened the knife, just in case. She held the handle tightly. She opened the door and started into the small room, but worried when she didn’t immediately see Steven.

Behind her Steven said, “I thought you’d be in there forever!”

Anne jumped, spun, saw the hatchet in Steven’s hand (but didn’t see the kindling in the other hand) and acted on impulse. She dropped her purse, and lunged at Steven with the knife. Time slowed down as the blade pierced his chest and she could feel the knife graze off a rib as she sunk it all the way to the hilt.

“You’re not going to kill me like Elaine, you bastard!” she yelled.

Steven stared at her, at the knife in his chest, his mouth open in a wordless question. The hatchet dropped from his hand followed by the kindling scattering on the floor. “Anne?” was all he could manage before he dropped to his knees and then fell to the floor, blood spreading onto the carpet.

“Oh my God,” Anne said. “What have I done? What did I do? Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.”

Elaine stepped up beside her and whispered, “You need to get rid of the body.”

“Oh my God. I need to get rid of the body.” Anne nodded to herself. “I need to get rid of the body… the ravine!”

“She came up with the ravine on her own,” Saint Andrew asked.

Elaine shrugged, “Apparently so!” They stood by and watched as the diminutive Anne dragged the lifeless Steven out of the cottage and managed to shove his body into the back of the Range Rover. “I honestly didn’t think she was going to be able to do that.”

“Kill him?” Saint Andrew asked.

“No, I figured she’d do it somehow this weekend. We had her so wound up even if Steven hadn’t been dumb enough to bring that hatchet in, something else was going to set her off. No, I didn’t think she was going to be able to get him into the truck!”

“Adrenaline,” Saint Andrew offered as the Range Rover roared to life and backed up in a hurry.

“She’s leaving the cottage wide open?” Elaine asked.

It was Saint Andrew’s turn to shrug. Gesturing towards the Range Rover as the back up lights went off and the big SUV shot forward in a shower of loose gravel. “Shall we?”

“Let’s see what happens next!” Elaine said and then they were sitting in the backseat of the Range Rover. Anne, drove frantically, mumbling and cursing to herself. Elaine looked over into the back of the SUV at Steven’s lifeless body. “That blood is not going to come out,” she said shaking her head. “Wait,” she turned back to Saint Andrew. “Sudden death?” she pointed to the corpse. Aren’t you going to have some work to do here?”

“Possibilmente,” he said, reaching his arm over the seat to get his hand near Steven’s body. “I do not think he is all the way dead yet.” He pulled his arm back and straightened in the seat. “Soon, though…”

Elaine nodded and looked forward, noting Anne’s high-speed driving down the fog-shrouded highway 1. They rocked as Anne jerked the wheel to avoid the guard rail. “Good thing I can’t die twice,” she said, holding onto the arm rest. She peered forward trying to recognize the road. “Do you know how far it is to the— Shit!” she screamed at the same time Anne did. That was all either of them could get out before the Range Rover slammed into an elk. Anne shot through the windshield as Steven’s body flew Up from the back seat, through Elaine and Saint Andrew, taking out the front seat and the remainder of the windshield as it bounced out along the road.

“Wow,” Elaine said, catching her breath. “I am so grateful we don’t obey the laws of physics!” She moved out through the crumpled car walked around to the front of the car where a completely undamaged but slightly translucent elk stood. The front of the car had bent around it, but the elk seemed to glow a little and turned its head to regard Elaine. “Holy shit,” she said. The elk stepped forward passing through the twisted metal and glass around it. It sauntered to the edge of the road, turned its head and glowing antlers back to her before the entire animal blossomed into bright, blinding light and vanished. Elaine turned to see Saint Andrew with an innocent smile on his face. “Was that…?”

Saint Andrew nodded.

“Seriously?”

Saint Andrew nodded again.

Elaine shook her head. “Fucking elk ghost…”

From behind them Elaine heard a man’s voice, “What the fuck? What the fuck?” She turned to see Steven standing over his corpse. “What the fuck?” he asked again.

“Oh my God!” a woman’s voice cried out. Elaine looked farther down the road to see Anne standing over her body.

“Anne?” Steven noticed her.

“Steven?” she said. Then, realizing who it was, “Don’t kill me!” she backed up reflexively.

“I can’t,” he said, anger in his voice as he gestured to his body, “I’m already fucking dead!”

“Oh,” she said. “Me too,” she looked at her body sadly.

“Wait,” he said, “You stabbed me!”

“You were going to kill me like you did Elaine.”

“What are you talking about?!”

“The ax?! That message from another woman at the restaurant?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he bellowed. “I wasn’t going to kill you! I just killed Elaine. We were finally together! Why the fuck would I turn around and kill you?!”

She shrunk into herself a bit and mumbled, “Well… it made sense at the time.”

“And now we’re both… dead?”

“Yes, you are, you two assholes,” Elaine said.

Anne and Steven spun towards the voice. “Elaine?” Steven asked, shocked.

“Surprise!” She said throwing her hands in the air. “You both got what you deserve.”

“Well,” Saint Andrew stepped up beside her, “Not quite…” he was about to introduce himself, when a bright golden light blossomed on the side of the road.

“Andrew? Is that…for me?” Elaine asked.

He smiled, “I believe it is, Signora.”

She turned and gave him a tight hug. “Thank you,” she said. “You have been the best accomplice ever.”

“You have been pretty devious yourself, Signora Elaine.”

They parted and she smiled at him. “I’m glad to call you my friend,” she said.

“The feeling is mutual, Signora. Now hurry!”

She nodded and stepped quickly towards the light, stopping and regarding Anne and Steven. “See ya, jerkfaces!” she said, flipped them off and then stepped into the light which brightened before winking out into blackness.

“What. The. Fuck,” Steven said.

“Hello,” Saint Andrew turned to the two ghosts standing over their bodies. “I’m Saint Andrew Avenillo. Signore Steven, Signora Anne, you may call me Andrew. I am the angel of sudden death. I’m here to help you pass on,” he waved his hand. Two scarlet red envelopes appeared between his fingers. “Oh,” he said, just the corner of his mouth curling into a smile.

31 Ghosts 2018 – No Good Deed, part 3

Did I say three parts? No, you must have misread me! I distinctly said FOUR parts! “No Good Deed” will absolutely, positively, without question conclude tomorrow. Really. Until then, let’s break some stuff! —Jordy

Elaine stood in front of a brick building on a narrow tree-lined street and blinked against the brightness of the streetlights. “Yikes,” she said, “I guess I had gotten pretty used to being in the dark out there. Where am I?”

“We, Signora Elaine, we.”

“Oh, Saint Andrew! I was hoping I didn’t make this journey alone. Speaking of which, where exactly are we?” she scanned the building and spotted a name. “Quince?! Saint Andrew, you do have great taste! I haven’t been here since Steven and my last anniversary. But, you know, I’m not terribly hungry. Actually, I haven’t been hungry since I died. Do I get hungry any more?” She looked up at Andrew who arched an eyebrow. “I’m missing something, aren’t I?” His eyes tracked over her shoulder into the restaurant and she turned to follow his gaze.

“Son of a bitch!” she swore, then walked to the door and reached for the handle. Her hand closed right through it. Rolling her eyes, she stepped through the closed glass door, around the maître d’, around the white chairs with their diners straight back to a table for two along the back exposed brick wall. “You asshole!” she swore at Steven who swirled his wine glass smiling at the brunette opposite him who returned the smile with dark red lips. “You think you can fucking kill your wife and get away with it? Oh, and with Anne!” She looked at the woman, “I fucking knew it! And here you are! It hasn’t even been, what? A week?”

“It’s been a month,” Steven said. “And no one has any idea where she’s gone.”

“A month!” She looked at the hand holding the wine glass, “And you’ve already taken off your wedding ring?! You asshole!”

“You don’t think the police are going to decide you’re not the grieving husband?” Anne asked with a wicked smile.

“Oh, they’ve tried,” he said. “The forensics people were all over the house… my cleaner has just now managed to get all that fingerprint dust and luminol cleaned up! They left the place filthy!”

“And you didn’t?” Anne asked.

“What? No. I told you, when she said she’d found out about our little… tryst,” he waggled his eyebrows, “I decided it was the right time to put our plan into action – to get her out of the way for good. One hit over the head and she went down right on the carpet that I disposed of her with.”

“Yes, about that, Steven,” she interrupted. “That rug really tied that room together…”

They both laughed.

Elaine boiled with furious rage.

“To our first month together in peace!” Steven raised his glass. They clinked and drank.

Elaine focused on the bottle of wine in the middle of the table, channeled all her fulminating rage and swirling fury at it. Nothing happened for a moment, then the bottle began to vibrate. Steven noticed it first and tilted his head at the bottle. Anne followed his glance and stared wide eyed. Elaine’s face had turned beet red as she stared intently at the bottle. Without warning she sent it smashing against the wall with a ferocity that sprayed glass and scarlet Cabernet Sauvignon all over the two at the table as well as anyone in a ten-foot radius.

Bedlam erupted in the restaurant as the wait staff hurried in to see what happened and to attend to the wine-stained guests. The bottle hit the wall so had that the glass pieces weren’t large enough to do any real damage, though one piece did open a cut on Steven’s cheek and blood mixed with wine down his cheek and onto his jacket. Steven and Anne stared at each other in utter shock.

Paramedics were called. Steven and Anne followed the advice to go to the hospital as a precaution. Elaine sat at a vacated chair nearby staring at the empty table covered in wine and glass. She was too tired to think about anything in particular, too tired to be angry right now, too tired to cry. She just stared with half-opened eyelids.

After a long time, after the scene had been cleared, after the restaurant had been closed for the night and the dining room sat empty, Saint Andrew quietly took a seat next to Elaine. “I mentioned I am the angel of sudden death when we met,” he started softly without looking at her. “When I encounter a spirit, they are new and scared and it is my job to help them across to the other side.” Elaine turned to regard him with exhaustion plain on her face. “While I know that such a thing as you did tonight – with that much energy – is theoretically possible…” he trailed off. “But… I have never seen it done.” He regarded her, “You surprised me. You impressed me. You scared me.”

Elaine could barely muster the energy to nod.

“You were not my charge,” he said. “By all rights, I should walk away. There are others who may need my services. You are not a recent death, so I should not be involved.”

Elaine mumbled something inaudible.

“Scusami?

“I said, I hear a ‘but’ in there.”

Andrew smiled at her, “Corretta. But…” he gave her a nod which she sleepily returned, “you intrigue me, Signora Elaine. And you remind me of someone else who intrigued me enough to stay around when I should have gone.”

“A’ight,” she slurred with a smile. “Le’s give ’em hell!” She tried to stand, but her legs instantly gave out and she collapsed back onto the chair.

“Yes, that is going to be a problem. I have not seen such focus before…”

“I learned it in the woods. I didn’t have anything else to do. You should have seen the look on the little beady squirrel faces when I threw pinecones at them!”

“…But you don’t have the energy to keep that up,” he finished.

She nodded with a jerk. “Yeah, you may have a point.”

“I may have a better idea…” he said.

“Oh, Saint Andrew, please tell! How are we going to get that asshole?”

“Mmm,” he shook his head with a furrowed brow and a frown, “I do not think that is the right way to go about it…”

Elaine squinted at him trying desperately to focus through her exhaustion. Like a jolt of adrenaline, the answer lit her up, “through her! Saint Andrew, make sure I don’t fall on your bad side!”

***

Still shaken after they were released from the hospital, Anne declined Steven’s offer to stay at their house. She wearily took the elevator to the forty-eighth floor of the north tower of Rincon One, locked her door behind her, stripped out of her stained clothes and collapsed into bed. While sleep came quickly, it was far from peaceful.

She found herself in a dark forest somewhere – she didn’t recognize anything but could make out the trees and bushes bathed in the silver light of a full moon. Crickets chirped and she heard the croak of a bullfrog in a pond nearby somewhere. She spun as a branch in the underbrush snapped loudly behind her. She didn’t see anything moving. She turned back slowly stood inches from the bloody face of Elaine. Anne hopped back with shock. Elaine fixed her with a stare, then reached out and took Anne’s hands in hers. Anne became aware of something wet on her hands and looked down to see her hands streaked dark with blood from Elaine’s hands.

“You have my blood on your hands,” Elaine said sadly.

“No! No!” Anne screamed, turned and started to run blindly deeper into the forest. Branches whipped at her face as blackberry bushes tore at her bare ankles and nettles stung her knees, but she sprinted ignoring the pain. She slowed, feeling she certainly had outrun the bloody Elaine. She stopped when her lungs hurt too much and panted, trying to listen to the forest around her. Everything had gone quiet. No crickets. No frog. She started to catch her breath when a voice warm and quiet spoke directly into her ear, “How safe do you feel, Anne?”

She screamed out loud and sat bolt upright in bed, panting. She stared around the dark bedroom. “Just a dream,” she said. “Just a dream…” she folder her arms around herself. She found herself damp with a cold sweat and decided she needed a hot shower to steady her nerves.

She padded to the bathroom and turned the faucet in the shower to just below scalding, closed the glass door behind her and sighed as the rain showerhead sluiced the last remnants of the dream away down the drain. She felt the hot water and steam take away the shock from the restaurant and the hospital and by the time she turned the water off and emerged into the bathroom, she felt human again and ready to try sleep again. Then she screamed and sprinted naked and dripping from the bathroom.

On the steamed mirror someone had traced the words “He will get you next.”

Elaine and Saint Andrew stood in the doorway of the bathroom, arms crossed with satisfied looks on their faces. “That went very well, Saint Andrew.”

“I agree, Signora,” he agreed. “And, I will note, with much less energy.”

“You are very right!”

Anne didn’t sleep the rest of the night and the first rays of dawn poured through the window to find her curled in a corner of her living room, every light in the room on full. She did manage to get dressed when her alarm startled her, though she shouldn’t have bothered as she jumped at everything at work. She gave a little shriek when her phone rang. The caller ID indicated Steven.

“Hey baby,” he said warmly.

“What?”

“Are you okay, sweetie?”

“No, I had a shitty night.”

“The restaurant? Jesus, I called my lawyer and he’s seeing what we can do to sue them…”

“No, not that. I had a nightmare last night. Elaine was in it.”

“Jesus, Anne, she’s gone…”

“Is she, Steven?” Elaine laughed standing behind Anne.

“Is she, Steven?” Anne asked.

“Yes, Anne, she’s gone. I can say that with absolute certainty.”

Elaine laughed as a violent shiver ran through Anne. “I’m… not so sure,” she said.

“For fuck’s sake, Anne, you’ve had one bad dream… Now’s a shitty time to get squeamish.”

“Yeah, and it’s a shitty time to be your airtight alibi,” she said and hung up the phone.

She avoided his texts the rest of the day. When night came she returned home and stared warily at the bed. The fifth Philz coffee of the day wearing off, she realized she would have to give sleep another try. She drifted off almost as soon as she lay her head on the pillow.

She also immediately found herself in a dream. “At least I know this place,” she sighed as she walked up the stairs of Steven’s Pacific Heights house.

“Sweetie? Is that you?” his voice called from the bedroom ahead.

“It’s me, darling,” she replied.

“I can’t wait to see you!” his voice carried warmth. She stepped into the bedroom surprised not to see him in bed.

“Steven?” she said, looking around.

“Right here,” he said quietly right behind her.

She jumped and turned, her eyes drawn to the bloody hammer in his hand as he violently swung it down on her and everything went black.

She leapt out of bed, tangled a leg in the sheets and landed on the floor bodily. She lay there for a few moments, happy to have woken from that nightmare. A rap on the front door caused her to jump. She realized it was just a real knock on her real door and nothing more. She stood up unsteadily, put on her robe and crossed to the door. “Who is it?” she called.

“Me,” Steven’s voice came muffled from behind the door.

She unlocked the door and opened it with her best angry look on her face. “What do you want?” she said. Her face softened immediately when she saw the long stemmed roses he held.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” he said.

“Aww, thank you!”

Steven stepped into the doorway and embraced her in a kiss. She released and caught something in the hallway behind him. On the wall opposite her door was smeared “He’s gonna get you” in blood.

Anne shrieked and staggered backwards into her apartment, collapsing on the floor.

“Honey, what?!” Steven asked moving towards her.

She pointed past him, eyes closed, crying. “Look! The wall!” she said.

He turned around and stared at the wall. “What about it?”

She tentatively opened one eye and then the other. “What?! There was blood…. A message… it said… it said…”

“Anne, there’s nothing there.” He moved towards her and she reflexively flinched back. He moved in anyway and knelt to pick her up in his arms. As he lifted her and took her back to the bedroom her body convulsed in sobs.

Elaine waited until the sobs receded to the bedroom. “This might be easier than I thought.”

“I told you that one would be the easier one to get to.”

“You’re a devious one, Saint Andrew…”

 

31 Ghosts 2018: October 14 – No Good Deed, part 2

I’m starting with an apology because this is totally going to be a “Back To The Future 2” in the sense that it’s serving exclusively as a bridge to part 3. Didn’t know there was going to be a part 3? I didn’t either, but today is my first day off in two weeks and I’ve come down with a severe case of the “I don’t wanna”s. To be fair, I cleaned the kitchen, the carpet, even braved Costco on a Sunday, so the fact that I’ve about run out of steam might be a little more understandable. Alas, I promise part 3 tomorrow (unless something better comes along for tomorrow), and part 2 will get you there! —Jordy

Previously: Part 1

“When I got here you were doing an admirable job,” Saint Andrew Avenillo explained. “I didn’t think intervening seemed prudent.” He gestured to where the light had winked out moments before when the recently departed Jimmy Woo crossed over. “Clearly that assessment was correct.”

“Where were you when my husband threw my body into the ravine over there?”

“Scusami, signora,” he said with genuine sorrow, “I do not know why I am sent to some places but not others. The assignments come from a higher authority,” he said casting his eyes skyward.

Elaine followed his gaze, then gave the sky the middle finger. “Some help he’s been.”

“Signora, I strongly advise against such profanity.”

Elaine looked at Saint Andrew curiously, then batted her lashes and arched an eyebrow, “Oh, Saint Andrew,” a wicked smile on her face, “I haven’t begun to be profane. Finding out your husband is cheating on you? Confronting him? Then having him kill you? That, I strongly believe, earns me the right to be profane to whomever I so choose.”

“Signora Elaine, forgive me. I am not privy to the circumstances of your death. I take it your husband murdered you?”

“Don’t let anyone tell you that you don’t catch on quick, Saint Andrew.”

“Yes,” he blinked. “If I may ask, what are you doing out here?”

“Body disposal. My asshole husband rolled me up in a carpet, threw me in the back of our Range Rover, and tossed me and that rug into the ravine down there,” she gestured with her thumb over her shoulder.

“I see,” Saint Andrew paused. “But, I do not understand, what are you still doing, here?”

“’Here,’ this road in the middle of nowhere or ‘here’, this plane of existence – why I haven’t trundled off to lightville like Jimmy just did?”

“Mmm, both, yes? Specifically, the former, but I’m curious about the latter as well.”

“I don’t know why I’m trapped out here, but I can’t leave. Everytime I do I’m right back next to my body and that god-awful area rug – his mistress, our designer, picked that damn rug out. I don’t think he realized that. He certainly wouldn’t have thought to make such an ironic statement of throwing me out in his mistress’s area rug,” she scoffed. “As to why I haven’t crossed over, the opportunity hasn’t presented itself. If I had to guess it’s because I’m supposed to ‘avenge my death,’” she said dramatically, “Or something like that. Which, mind you, I’m more than happy to do. That bastard has it coming…”

“Ah,” Saint Andrew said with a flourish of his hand. “We can discuss the avenging part in a moment,” he said, “but you being stuck here is a matter of energy. You see, as a ghost, you can manifest, but you are still attached to your body – stray too far from your body and you lose energy. Come si dice, run out of steam?” Elaine nodded in understanding. “You get so far from your anchor…”

“My body.”

“Si, and then you lose energy and… fade out. Then, like a dead battery – scusami, no pun intended – your spirit regains its strength from your body and you wake up.”

“Okay,” Elaine said in acknowledgement. “Any advice on how to break this cycle and get me back to San Francisco so I can rain ghostly vengeance on my dear hubby?”

“I’m afraid there is no way for you to escape this trap. What is worse, each time to try to venture too far and fade out you are weakening your spirit energy. If you were to keep it up you would fade out completely and either become an empty spirit with no memory of your past just wandering the countryside, or you’d just wink out of existence.”

“Thank you for that news, Saint Andrew the downer.”

“However,” he started.

“I like howevers,” she brightened.

“You did me a favor with Signor Jimmy, the least I can do is return the favor.”

“Pass me on?”

“I am afraid not, Signore Elaine. That is something you need to attain yourself. But when it comes to energy, it is hard to find more than is contained in an angel,” he waggled his eyebrows. “I can untether you.”

“Aww, you would do that for me, Andrew?”

“Of course, Signore Elaine,” he said. “Certain events of late have convinced me that sometimes a little retribution is in order.”

Elaine indicated to the sky with her eyes, “Sure he’s not going to mind?”

“Oh, no,” Saint Andrew replied. “I am given my powers with a wide discretion to use them as I see fit. Besides, what is the phrase? ‘Better to ask forgiveness than to get permission’?”

“I like the cut of your jib, Saint Andrew,” Elaine smiled. “Lay on Macduff!”