“Don’t you think that’s enough? If he
was
set up––”
“Which he wasn’t. Oh, Golden, I know you want to believe Quick is innocent. So do I. But he’s not. And the longer he is in there, the more he is going to sound like the rest of those inmates who constantly declare their innocence. Ninety-nine percent of the men in prison belong there. Quick is no exception no matter how much you want him to be. You shouldn’t have gone.”
Denny studied her sister’s face. Sterling’s eyes revealed the same fear Quick’s had. What weren’t they telling her?
“Then you’re really going to shit a turkey when I tell you that he wants me to...well...to talk to Mom.”
Sterling’s mouth opened then closed, then opened again. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Nothing about Mom is funny, Sterling.”
Sterling looked around the room, as if expecting someone else to be there, then she ducked her head, lowered her voice, and whispered, “What. Did. He. Say. Exactly?”
Denny leaned away from her. Sterling was always intense, but there was something edgy about her today. “I just told you.”
“No.
Exactly
. Word for word. What exactly did he say?” Sterling’s eyes changed in a heartbeat. Now, they were aflame with a force Denny had seldom seen.
“He made an off-the-cuff comment about someone needing to finish what they started. He said they’d set him up and that maybe Pure was in danger. Something like that.”
“Then he told you to...to ask Mom.”
“Yeah.”
Sterling inhaled deeply. “Well then. Obviously our brother is losing his mind. Maybe he forgot Mom is catatonic.”
Denny shook her head. “No way. He was calm, lucid, and knew what he was saying.”
Sterling laid her hands on top of Denny’s. “I know you have always adored Quick, Golden, but sometimes adoration gets in the way of us seeing people for who they truly are. We should pray about it.”
Denny rose. “And sometimes, Sterling,
your
adoration of Christ gets in the way of you seeing
anything
clearly.”
“Golden, that’s not fair.”
Denny started for the door. “I should have known better than to come to you with this. You and your church turned your back on Quick long ago. I will not do the same.” Denny stormed out of the classroom, hot tears burning her eyes.
If Sterling wouldn’t help her, she knew someone who would.
***
“H
e said what?” Lauren paused in her re-shelving of books to look at Denny. “Talk to your
mom
?”
“Yeah. Weird, huh?”
Pushing in a tome by Bill Moyers, Lauren turned to Denny. At five-eight, she was shorter than Denny, but so skinny she actually looked taller. Her straight hair hung like a black curtain halfway down her back.
She was currently in between boyfriends, having dumped the last one for cheating on her.
“Den, everything about your family is weird. Your girlfriend is a ghost, for Christ’s sake. You just don’t get any weirder than that.”
Denny handed Lauren another book. Lauren’s well-connected father had gotten got her a plum job working in the college library––a job she was well-suited for because she read everything she could get her hands on.
“What if he
is
innocent?”
Lauren took the book and re-shelved it. “And what if he isn’t? If he was framed, Den, why is this the first you’ve heard about it?”
“I don’t know. It feels like...like for the first time Quick is somehow protecting us. I don’t know why, and I don’t know from what, but I am not going to ignore him.”
“Nor should you. Quick may have belonged on the island of misfit toys, but I never believed he was a stone cold killer. It isn’t in his nature.” Her blue eyes were keen and reflective, and her teeth displayed years of dental incarceration and an abundance of cap work. While not gorgeous, she possessed her own unique style and beauty
Denny handed her another book. “You’ve maintained that position all along.”
“Well? Anyone with half a brain can see that. He’s a trouble-maker, not a killer. So...” Lauren took the book and frowned. The cover had a coffee ring on it. “What are you going to do?”
“I need to know what you think about the possibility of some sort of hypnosis or something so I can talk to my mom.”
“Hypnosis? Denny, your mom is catatonic. Comatose. Not there. No amount of hypnosis can wake her up.”
Denny shook her head. “I’m not suggesting we can wake her up. I’m suggesting we find a way to open the window.”
“Open the window. I’m sorry love, but you’ve lost me.”
Denny licked her lips. “Lauren, my lover is a ghost. A
ghost.
Sure, some of us believe in ghosts and some of us will even admit to having seen one, but I have sex––no––I have mind-blowing sex with one. If I can experience that, then what’s to prevent me from somehow reaching my mom?”
Lauren stopped shelving books and looked into Denny’s eyes. “We’ve had this conversation before, and I told you there are certain...dangers in playing with those on the razor’s edge of death. The spiritual plane is nothing to mess around with. It is dangerous and there are all sorts of unknowns. But if that’s the route you’re going to take, I’ll do some research, see what I can find out.” Lauran wagged her finger in front of Denny’s face. “You are not, under any circumstances, to try it on your own. As a matter of fact, why don’t you talk to Rush about it? See what
she
thinks.”
Denny laughed. “No way. You know how she feels about the supernatural. It scares the shit out of her.”
“Yeah. Only
you
would fall in love with a scaredy-cat ghost.” Lauren grabbed Denny’s hand. “As much as you want to help Quick, you have a life that deserves to be led. Please don’t ignore it trying to save him from himself.”
“I won’t.”
Lauren chuffed. “Said the fox in the hen house about not eating the chickens.”
***
T
his particular demon did not live within a corporeal body like many of the other demons roaming the world. This one was spiritual in nature. It had entered a weak-willed human and controlled it from within. In this instance, the empty husk the demon had filled was an alcoholic woman with a borderline personality.
There were so many borderline personality types in the United States, the Brotherhood of Demons had their choice of virtually any being to wreak havoc with. Chaos proved to be almost too easy in this country where people were self-medicating like children in a candy shop popping this yellow pill or that purple capsule.
That’s what made this particular possession so incredibly fun and interesting. The damage, while indirect, would have a ripple effect that would extend well beyond the initial contact.
The ripple effect.
This rippling is what made evil so successful, and a good demon could affect a great many humans if the effect was a solid one. All it took was one pebble tossed into the lake of human misery and suddenly, dozens found themselves in the path of the wake that would roll over them.
He had his orders, and he would find a way to affect the balance while still keeping the woman in the mix. That was his job with this one. Not to kill her. Not to destroy her. Not to really even touch or bother her at all. Not all demons kill or cause irreparable damage. This particular demon’s goal was to spread havoc and chaos while keeping the sanctity of the shell’s life and livelihood so he could have a return visit.
All that was required to throw a society into a complete downward spiral was this little white pad the demon was holding. That little white pad was changing this country in more ways than anyone could imagine.
It was all so incredibly easy for these legal drug pushers and their tiny white pads.
“Would you like me to write you a prescription for Percocet or Vicodin? If you’re allergic to those, Oxy might be a better choice.” The demon leaned forward, pen poised over the prescription pad.
“You know, doctor, I think the Oxy would really help my knee.”
The demon grinned. “One scrip coming right up.”
***
T
hat night, as Denny lay in bed, Rush appeared, hovering just out of reach. She was wearing a letterman’s jacket and a poodle skirt.
“Where you been?” Denny asked, sitting up on her elbows. The room was semi-dark but she could still see Rush.
“Neighborhood ghost meeting.”
Denny sat up with her back against the headboard. “Really?”
Rush shook her head. “Earth to Golden Silver. Hello? What do you think we
do
? Sit around talking about the living? Chyeah. No.” Rush laid down on her belly with her feet up like a little waif. “Wanna talk about it, Boo-Boo?”
Denny smiled at Rush’s choice of endearments. She knew Rush would not be happy with her decision to see Quick, but she needed to be honest. They’d always been honest with each other and she wasn’t going to change that now. “I do, but I don’t want you busting my chops about it.”
To Denny’s surprise, Rush remained quiet until she finished.
“So let me get this straight. You are going to try to have some sort of conversation with your
comatose mom
.”
Denny nodded. “Rush, I am in love with a ghost. I live in one of the most haunted cities in the world. Knowing that opens up a whole array of possibilities, don’t you think? Besides...she is catatonic, not comatose. She’s still in there, right? I just have to find a way to reach her.”
Rush scooted closer. “Tomato, tomahto. What I think, lover, is that it’s been a long day and I need you to do me.”
Denny grinned. “Oh really?”
“Yep. It’s been fifteen days and I’m about to bust a move. I know you’ve had a helluva week, but this could be just what the doctor ordered to get you out of your head and down here.” Rush waved toward Denny’s crotch.
A sudden warmth spread over Denny’s clit when Rush touched her. If a ghost concentrates all of its energy, it can actually move objects or, as in Rush’s case, warm up the surrounding area. It had taken years of practice, but eventually, Rush got very good at it. Incredibly good.
“Come on.” Rush moved to lie on top of Denny. “Close your eyes lover and give me your best shot.”
Denny closed her eyes and let Rush transport them to another place, another time, where they lay together on a picnic blanket under an oak tree by a gurgling creek. The sun shone warmly on her back and a slight breeze rustled her hair.
“Nice choice.”
“One of your favorites, if I recall.”
In Denny’s mind, the visual images were so real she felt them in her body. She smelled the grass beneath them, the hibiscus in the air, and heard the birds chirp. It all felt so real.
Rush played with Denny’s hair before leaning over and lightly kissing her lips. Rush had the kind of lips women paid good money for.
“I missed you today.”
Wrapping her arms around Rush’s neck, Denny pulled her on top of her and kissed Rush deeply, passionately, as if she might never kiss her again. They let their tongues dance. Their bodies pressed together, it was the only time Denny could actually feel the weight of her long deceased lover.
These moments were vital to the bond they’d established years ago, and Denny didn’t think she would ever have another lover as tentative or as nurturing as Rush. She could do things with her mouth that were probably illegal in most states, and she had the longest fingers of anyone Denny had ever met. The best part was, she knew how to use them and she used them often.
“You are so beautiful,” Rush said, dropping kisses on Denny’s face. “Even when you wake up with bed head, I think you are gorgeous.”
“Thank you, love, and you’re right. I needed this. I needed to get out of my head.”
“You need to get laid.” Moving down Denny’s body, Rush kissed her breasts, her belly, her mound, and then she stopped and leaned her cheek there. “God, I love you.”
Denny ran her hand through Rush’s hair, and suddenly stopped. “Wait.”
Rush looked up from between Denny’s legs. “What?”
“This.” Denny scrambled to her feet. “
This
. How do we do
this
?”
Rush rose as well. “Baby, you know how we do this. Are you feeling okay? What an odd question, even for you.”
“No, no. I know how
we
do it. We are on a spiritual plane, right? My question is, if I can come here with you, why can’t I do this with my mom?”
“Umm...because she’s not dead?”
Denny pulled away, and suddenly they were back in her room; all illusion to the corporeal world Rush had created was gone. “No, seriously. If you and I are capable of being together on a different plane, why wouldn’t that be possible with my mom? Maybe that’s what Quick meant.” Denny leapt out of bed and grabbed her robe. “Maybe there really is some way to get to her.”
“Baby, it’s nighttime. Run around like a chicken with its head cut off during the day, but right now, please get back in bed.”
Denny paused in mid-stride before bowing her head. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”
Rush soundlessly patted the space Denny had vacated. “Nobody can blame you for wanting to talk to your mother, baby. You miss her. You love her. It hurts seeing her like that. I get that.”
After slowly crawling back into bed, Denny scooted under the covers and silently wished Rush had arms she could feel hold her during moments like these.
“Close your eyes.”
Denny suddenly felt very tired. “I can’t do it right n––”
“Shh. That’s not what I want. Trust me. Just close your eyes.”
Denny did as she was told.
“In the morning, you can run around and try to figure out if you really can reach a place where your mother’s consciousness is, but right now, you just need to breathe and let me take care of you.”
“Okay. You’re right...” As her body settled into tired slumber, Denny’s last conscious image was of Rush doing what she had always done: watching over her.
“I love you, baby. I gotcha.”
“You always do,” Denny said sleepily. “You always do.”
***
“I
’d like an––”
“Awake Tea latte extra hot, no sweetener,” the tall blonde barista finished for her. There was a sparkle in her eye and a mischievous grin to her lips as she rang Denny up.