Mitch bounded out of the WeWork space on Second in a rush. He popped open the charging case for his AirPod ear buds with one hand, while calling his assistant with his other hand.

“Jackie… yeah, I know, I’m on my way to the Creamery to meet the Angel investor,” he spoke into the air weaving through the other pedestrians. “I realize I’m late, that’s why I’m calling you on the run. Look, I need you to book me a flight to Vegas… no, not another party trip. My brother Thad died last week… Yeah, thanks… no, totally unexpected – some weird bathtub electrocution thing, he was into weird shit… he was an asshole anyway, but I have to make an appearance, you know?” He dodged a bedraggled man with a long beard carrying an enormous plastic bag with half-crushed aluminum cans and nearly crashed into three white guys with conference badges around their necks.

“Did you get rid of Elaine?” he changed the subject. “…No, I don’t care if she’s got two kids. You need to get rid of her before she files that sexual harassment charge. I don’t want a single mar on our record going into this next round of funding.” He rounded the corner onto Folsom, shoving his way through the knot of people waiting for the light to cross. “Did I do it? Jackie, you know me better than to ask that. Of course I did it. But that’s not the point. The point is if we don’t sweep this under the table it will mean a lot of money for the IPO.”

One of his AirPod earbuds came loose and as he fidgeted with it Mitch didn’t see the homeless woman’s puppy laying in front of her until he tripped over it, knocking it into her can of change. The puppy yelped, the change exploded out of the can, the woman shrieked, and Mitch staggered sideways flailing his arms to catch his balance before he fell. With so many things happening at once it’s reasonable that Mitch completely missed the hipster on the electric unicycle barreling towards him. Unable to stop, the hipster slammed into Mitch and tumbled off, barely missing the yelping puppy slamming into the building along the sidewalk. The force of the collision caromed the already-falling Mitch off the sidewalk into oncoming traffic. Mitch had time to look up before everything became bright white. The bright white, it should be noted, was the color of the Google bus that charged through the yellow light and didn’t even attempt to break until Mitch became a hood ornament. For Mitch, everything then went black.

The first thing Mitch noticed was music. It wasn’t angelic like he’d hoped for, nor was it some sort of Wagner-esque fugue to accompany him to where he expected to go. No, this was some ukulele solo over a hip hop trap beat broken by the intermittent howls of a woman clearly getting oral surgery without anesthetic. Oh shit, he thought, this was hipster music – it had to be that goddamn hipster’s Bluetooth speaker on his fucking unicycle, because of course he had a Bluetooth speaker on his electric unicycle. He opened his eyes and saw he was lying in the street in front of the stopped Google bus with the electric unicycle next to him in the gutter, “music” still blaring. He pushed himself to his feet and saw a crowd gathered near the back of the bus. He stepped onto the sidewalk and started into the crowd that were talking amongst themselves.

“Who is it?” someone said.

“I think that’s Mitch Dessner,” came a reply.

“Oh my God, that asshole?” someone else chimed in.

Mitch turned towards the voice, but couldn’t make it out before someone else joined in, “Right? A bus is too good for that guy” and “Poor bus!” and “Is the puppy okay?” and “Hey, a quarter!” “Oh yeah, I found an AirPod earbud!”

Mitch pushed his way through the crowd which didn’t move aside for him as much as he moved through them. Reaching the edge of the sidewalk, he saw two off-duty paramedics partially under the bus attending to… him. Well, what clearly used to be him. There’s denial, and then there’s seeing your body after it had been run over by a double decker bus. Without going into detail, let’s just say it doesn’t really leave much room for inconclusiveness. Mitch Dessner was dead. So, Mitch thought, where does that leave me?

As the thought coalesced in his not-head he didn’t notice that everything around him had become an opaque gray. Or maybe he did notice and just thought the fog came in awfully quickly for a fall day in SoMa.

“Hello, I’m Saint Andrew Avenillo,” The tall wiry man in a long, white, billowy robe and an aquiline nose spoke with a light Italian accent. “Signore Mitch, you may call me Andrew.”

Mitch turned to look at the man and he didn’t say anything, just gave him his best pursed-lipped TED Talk stare.

Andrew blinked several times before saying, “I am the angel of sudden death. I’m here to help you pass on… No,” he stopped. “That is not right. Not in this case. I’m here to guide you on your journey.

Mitch’s mask of self-importance fell. “Umm, excuse me? Journey?”

“Yes, Signore, your Journey. As you might suspect, most people who die are instantly judged and sent one way,” he gestured up towards the sky, “or the other,” he pointed to the ground. “And there’s cases like yours…”

“Because I’m such a successful, powerful power broker whose every utterance causes markets to quiver with anticipation?” Mitch asked.

Andrew stared at Mitch with a baffled look on his face, shaking his head. “No. Precisely because you are so irritatingly full of yourself. You still have much to learn before you are escorted off this earthly plane.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“Scusami?”

“So, what comes first? The ghost of Christmas past or Christmas future?” He snapped his fingers, “No, I’m supposed to say something like, ‘the world would be better without me,’ right? No, no, no,” he hopped up and down, “This is like some goddamn ‘Our Town’ with San Francisco standing in for Grover’s Corners?”

“Are you quite finished, Signore?”

“Finished?” Mitch spread his arms wide, “I’m in the afterlife, Andrew, I can go on forever, right? Time has no relevance, right?”

“Not quite,” Andrew said pulling back the hem of his sleeve to check his Apple Watch.

“Whoa,” Mitch stopped cold. “You’ve got an Apple Watch? I don’t believe this…”

Andrew gave him a patronizing smile and sighed. “No, Signore, not exactly. What you see is me through the lens of what you would expect. In your existence, an Apple Watch is perfectly reasonable. If I were speaking to a Swiss banker perhaps I would have a fine Rolex, or if you were one of the programmers you dismissed so often perhaps I would have a calculator watch. It is all relative, Signore.”

“Okay,” Mitch said, rubbing his eyes trying to ease the headache forming… then realizing he no longer even had a head to ache and that it still ached so he rubbed harder. “Then what does your not-Apple Watch tell you?”

Just then the opaque gray evaporated and they were back on the corner of Folsom and Second, but night had fallen. The bus and people and paramedics, and hipster, and electric unicycle were gone, as was the homeless woman and her puppy. Mitch looked up and down the empty street which was, in fact, slightly hazy with cold fog. He judged it sometime early in the morning – maybe two or three AM. He turned questioningly to Andrew standing behind him. Without saying a word Andrew nodded towards the direction of oncoming traffic. Mitch followed his gaze and saw a black Tesla Model X glide up to them silently. The black car had blacked-out rims, completely opaque tinted windows, but the roof bristled with numerous bulbous cameras at varying angles as well as a spinning LIDAR unit. As the car pulled to a stop, the rear driver-side falcon door raised open. Mitch looked in to verify what he already expected – self-driving. Of course, he thought.

“Signore,” Andrew gestured for Mitch to get into the waiting car.

To be continued…

Keeping it short on Saturdays!

“Pardon me, sir? Are you from around here? I’m a bit lost…” the young woman asked Dave.

Dave looked at his watch anxiously, then at the light about to change. If he hurried he could still make it on time…

“Sir? Please?”

He spared a glance and saw a woman who looked vaguely familiar. In her winter coat and pants he couldn’t quite place the blonde hair or the smooth skin, but the eyes were the same blue flecked with gold he remembered from his mother. In hindsight, that’s probably why he responded.

“Yes, where are you looking for?” Behind him he heard the screech of tires and a car careened directly behind him and slammed into a parked car just mere feet away with an explosion of shattered glass and crumpled metal.

He looked at the skid marks and instantly knew if he hadn’t turned around to talk to the woman he would have been directly in the cars path. He turned to the woman and she was completely gone.

If you missed part 1, it’s right here

“…Then the bed seriously levitated two feet off the floor,” Karen took a sip of her second dirty martini.

“Oh my God,” Ming said, “And you’re telling us you weren’t scared?”

“No, I was definitely scared. I was scared the bastard wound dent the hardwood when he inevitably dropped the bed. Which, of course, he did.”

“Kar, seriously, why don’t you listen to him and move out?” Louise asked. “He gave you, what? A week? And you’ve been there more than a month.”

“Six hard fought weeks,” Karen corrected then finished her drink in a big swallow and signaled the bartender for another.

“Okay, six weeks – that’s longer than even the month you said he gave you originally. You won. Why don’t you take that victory and walk away while you have your sanity and your life?”

“Because… It’s my goddamn house, Louise. You know how hard I worked to afford my own place. I’m not going to leave just because some ghost wants me to.”

“Umm, some verified homicidal demon ghost.”

“Thank you, Ming,” Karen nodded and took her martini from the bartender, “just because some homicidal demon ghost.”

“Just so we’re both,” Louise gestured to Ming and herself, “on record saying this is a monumentally shitty idea, yeah?”

“Duly noted,” Karen nodded.

* * *

Ming pulled her Mustang to the curb in front of the Dale house. She could see a light wink on in an upstairs bedroom. She craned her neck and leaned over Karen just in time to see the curtain peel back and the sharp features of an older man peer out. “Oh my God, I think he saw me,” she shrieked, flattening herself against her chair.

“Ming, you’re good. He’s only got eyes for me. Glowing red demon eyes, but…”

“Karen,” Ming turned in her chair to face the other woman, “You don’t have to stay here. Why don’t you come stay at my place tonight? Then… I don’t know, we could look for a place to live together – you can leave this place. It’ll be like college!”

“You have a selective memory. You forget we almost killed each other after two weeks. I’m a tough person to live with,” she smiled. “Right now I’m being John Dale’s pain in the ass,” she shrugged. “…And vice versa,” she amended as she turned to regard the house through the window. The curtain dropped back in front of the upstairs window and the light upstairs went out. She picked up her purse and opened the car door and squinted against the dome light flooding the cabin with yellow light. “Thank you, Ming,” Karen turned and smiled. “I really appreciate the sentiment. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Ming said, then added, “leave the lights on.”

“I wish that helped,” Karen closed the door. She opened the mailbox, took out a handful of envelopes and closed the little door. She turned and walked up the walkway to the front door as Ming started off. She wasn’t even at the door and she could feel the negative energy of the place wash over her. She sighed then put her hand on the door knob (she didn’t bother locking up – she had the greatest alarm system imaginable).

She turned the knob and pushed the door open. She had barely a moment to dodge the bloody corpse swinging on the noose towards her. More casually than one would think possible, she stepped inside as the lifeless corpse swung back inside. She pressed the light switch button as she dropped her keys in the bowl on the small table next to the door. She timed the swinging of the lifeless body to close the door. On the backswing, the body came to a stop against the door with a sickly wet thud.

“A little welcome home gift,” Dale called down from the top of the stairs.

“You’re too kind,” Karen said without looking up. She flipped through the mail as she asked, “Friend of yours?”

“Ah, no, friend of yours!” he replied menacingly.

“You know, Dale, you really missed the mark by not having a mustache to twirl menacingly.” For the first time she looked up at the corpse dangling and saw it was Ming’s mutilated body. Panic started to course through her veins, but she instantly and deliberately put the kibosh on that feeling. “Nice trick,” she said flatly. “If I hadn’t seen Ming leave a moment ago I might have bought it.”

“Shit,” he said, starting down the stairs. “I knew I should have used Louise instead. But she’s got that particular bump in her nose, you know? That’s really hard to capture in a convincing corpse.”

“Her Dirty Dancing Jennifer Gray nose?” Karen nodded. “And you’d best not mention that to her because she’d go all exorcist on your ass for that. Seriously, though,” Karen studied the faux-Ming corpse, “If you disfigured the face a bit more I’m sure you could get around the bump.”

Dale stood opposite her and regarded the body, “Yes, but it’s a fine line – too much and you wouldn’t recognize her and where’s the shock then?”

“Good point,” Karen said, taking an object from her purse before hanging the purse on one of the set of hooks above the door side table. “I got you something, too.”

“Oh?” He waved a hand and the corpse, noose and all, dissolved into a puddle of ectoplasm.

“You might remember this,” she said and held up a gnarled stick with a small circular drum attached to the end. The drum was covered by some hide yellowed with age, sinew cord zig-zagging the circumference holding the skin taught.

Dale’s eyes went wide and he took an involuntary step backward. “Where the hell did you get that?!” he demanded.

“I had a meeting with a medicine man today,” she said and experimentally twisted the stick causing some beads inside the drum to rattle.

The effect on Dale was immediate; he didn’t move across the room as he instantly appeared on the other side of the room. “Put that thing away. You do not know what you’re holding!”

“Actually, I do,” she said, cradling the drum in both hands careful not to rattle it. “According to my new Miwok friend, it’s an artifact of profound evil. Enemy of my enemy, and all that…”

“You have no idea!” Dale started up the stairs.

“No, really I do,” she nodded emphatically. “You want to stay upstairs tonight then?”

Halfway up the stairs, Dale stared down on her, “You keep that foul monstrosity down there and I’ll stay up here tonight. Deal?”

“Sweet dreams,” she smiled crossing to the couch as she rattled the drum a little more. Dale let out a squeal then disappeared upstairs. Karen slid out of her wedges, sat on the couch, delicately set the drum on the coffee table and reached for the comforter draped over one arm of the couch. She reflected on the danger of the artifact as she undid the clasp of her bra, kicked her feet up on the couch, pulling a pillow under her head and drawing the comforter over her. The drum, she knew, was a calculated risk – and a temporary one at that. She’d have to return it tomorrow. But that was tomorrow and for now she closed her eyes and slept the most luxurious night so far in her house.

* * *

Karen let the warm water sluice over her and reached for her poof and body wash. Before she had time to lather up the poof, the hot water turned to blood. “You asshole,” she yelled out of the shower. She couldn’t hear his self-satisfied laughter over the rush of the blood shower, but she imagined she could hear it. She fought her gag reflex back, telling herself the blood was just an illusion. She lathered up the poof and forced herself to start soaping herself up with the blood water. After a few minutes her effort paid off and the blood turned back to water – though she knew intellectually it was always water.

She toweled off and crossed out to her room, opening a dresser drawer for her underwear. That’s when the cobra shot out at her face, fangs bared. Karen turned just enough to let the reptile shoot past her face. Karen knew it would disappear as soon as it left her sight. She pulled on her jeans and top then moved back to the bathroom to do her makeup. Closing the mirror of the medicine cabinet she stared at her face, but aged, wrinkled and cracking like dried mud. She sighed at the sight as her nose cracked and fell into the sink. “So it’s going to be that kind of a morning, jerkface?” This time she did hear his laughter as she looked at her mummy face. “Natural look today, then.” She said.

“No makeup today?” Dale tsked at the foot of the stairs, hand on the banister. He shook his head admonishingly as she started down the stairs, “Not very ladylike, are you?”

Karen came even with him at the base of the stairs without saying a word. She met his gaze and exchanged a stare. Without breaking the gaze, she smoothly withdrew the dagger from her back pocket and stabbed it through Dale’s hand, pinning it to the banister. He bellowed in pain as she walked past him and took up her purse and keys. “Blessed obsidian dagger, bitch,” she said and left him cursing after the closed door.

* * *

Karen pulled into the driveway and regarded the shadow that darted past her headlight. For a moment, she thought Dale was up to something. No, she was outside of the house. This wasn’t Dale’s work. For the first time in months she really was scared. She reached into her purse and took out the pepper spray and pulled out the safety ring. With a deep breath, she pulled her keys out of the ignition taking the keys between her clenched knuckles, claw-like. She pushed the car door open scanning the space ahead of her for the shadow she saw when she pulled in.

That’s when she felt the sharp cold steel press against her neck. “Drop the pepper spray, bitch,” the voice said into her ear. She steeled herself as she tossed the canister onto the seat of the car.

“Take my wallet. Just let me go,” she said as steady as she could manage.

The second man stepped out from in front her car – the shadow she’d seen earlier. “We’re gonna take your wallet, bitch,” he said moving close to her. “And we’re going to have some fun, too.” He looked around and motioned to the man holding the knife, “Let’s take this bitch back here behind the house.”

Karen fought back panic as the knife-man maneuvered her around the car and towards the lightless yard behind the house and blocked from the street by the detached garage. She remembered something from an old Oprah episode or was it a This American Life podcast? Try to humanize them, she recalled. “Look guys,” she started, “You don’t have to do this…”

“Oh, yeah, we do,” the man without the knife said. “Hold her,” he said starting to unbuckle his belt. Then he froze.

The knife at Karen’s throat fell to the ground as she heard a sickening crack. Without the knife, she spun with her key-fist ready, but the lifeless body of her attacker collapsed to the ground. Behind him stood a man in tight black trousers and a red jacket over a tan vest with glowing red eyes.

The other attacker started backing away, but he shouldn’t have bothered. In a heartbeat he slammed against the side of the house, his feet dangling two feet off the ground as his hands clawed at the invisible hand pinning him there.

“You’re a terrible person,” Dale said, walking towards the struggling man. “I mean she’s halfway evil,” he gestured behind him at Karen, “but you and your compatriot…. You’re truly terrible. I want you to see this,” he said, turning towards the prone body of the knife-man.

His form twitched… no, not his body… a glowing shadow in the shape of his body twitched and stood up. Karen could see through his translucent body to her car behind. His spirit slowly stood up and regarded his corpse, silently mouthing “What the…?” The spirit looked up catching sight of Dale.

“Mine,” Dale said simply. The man’s spirit swirled into a shower of bluish sparks. Dale pointed at the ground in front of his feet and the sparks streaked down into the earth. Dale looked back at the man pinned to the wall, his face a mask or terror. “His soul is mine. And now,” he swirled his hand again, and blue sparks coursed out of the man against the wall. As the lights exited his body he sagged against the invisible hand. “So are you,” Dale gestured at his feet again and the earth absorbed the streaming sparks of the other man’s soul. Dale turned towards Karen and the invisible hand released letting the lifeless body  fall to the ground with a thud.

Dale extended a hand to Karen, “Are you okay?”

Karen regarded his hand. “You’re just going to do the same to me – if not now, then maybe tomorrow, or in a week, or a month,” she said flatly, defeat in her voice.

Dale smiled a genuine smile. “I meant it when I said earlier that you were halfway evil. That’s pretty much the best compliment you’ll ever get from me.”

“So?”

He sighed, “You intrigue me, Karen. I’ve never encountered a human like you. You’ve done more than purchase this house, you’ve earned it.”

“What?”

“Oh, don’t think I’m going anywhere – and don’t think I won’t continue to fuck with you. But I’m not going to let these…” he sought the word, “Lesser beings mess with you.”

She stared at him.

“Please,” he said extending his hand again. “Let’s go inside.”

“Inside, like… the house, right? Because I’m not interested in that soul-disappearing-into-earth thing.”

“Our house.”

Karen took his hand.