Only the Good Die Young

10

By the time I flew back to home base, night had fallen, and before I could stab another window in Amanda Lee’s house with shears again, I found her in the backyard, in the hot tub near her own modest pool.

She was neck deep in bubbling water, her red-and-gray-streaked hair pinned up. Actually, she looked like a bobbing head, just like that fortune-teller in the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland.

“What a night,” I said.

“Why, hello to you, too, Jensen,” she said as I settled over a wicker chair that faced the tub. She sounded real vegged out.

Until I told her about the dreamland in Gavin’s head.

She was giving off some nervous energy during my story—I could feel waves of it from her—but when I was done, a satisfied smile ended up taking over her mouth, like his dream was nearly as good as a confession.

“We’re so close to making everything right,” she said. “Do you know that? Just a few more pushes toward the truth…”

Pushes. From me. This haunting had really started.

“I figure that having Gavin asleep made our interaction a little different today,” I said. “Being in his head was like conducting an interview in Hades, but I think I learned a thing or two about him.”

“I think so, too. And, for future reference, we know a little bit more about how you work. When humans are awake, you enter a hallucinatory plane with them. When they’re asleep, you’re in what you call a dreamland.”

“Yeah, definitely good to know. But you know what was extra-strange about today?”

“There seem to be many levels of strange going on.”

No kidding. “Well, on this particular level, the dreamland had similarities to that star place. You know, with fake Dean?”

“Right. What sort of similarities?”

“I had a solid form in this dreamland, just like I did in the star place. What’s that about?”

A frown from Amanda Lee. Uh-oh.

“That is strange,” she said. “I wonder…”

Of course there was a huge BUT.

She shook her head, laughed a bit. “It’s a ridiculous idea. Never mind.”

“We went beyond ridiculous a while ago,” I said, gesturing to myself, because… seriously?

She inclined her head toward me. “All right. You were in a solid body during this dream today. And you were solid in the star place. Is there a possibility that this fake Dean character had the power to put you into a sort of sleeping state and then he entered your dream? Or maybe it’s even the other way around. You were in his mind?”

“I’m not sure if a creature like him has a regular mind.” I had no clue what that jerk was capable of. I mean, if he wasn’t an angel of death, then what the hell was he? In this Boo World, anything was possible.

“So you’re saying that the star place might not even be a place,” I said. “It’s more a state of mind.”

“It’s only a theory.”

The murmur of the spa’s water continued, and Amanda Lee straightened up, exposing the red halter straps of her suit as she cupped water in her hands and splashed it over her face.

“Long day, huh?” I said.

“Just an interesting one. It’s too bad you can’t come in here, too, for some unwinding.”

I laughed, and Amanda Lee closed her eyes and leaned back again.

“You feeling better about what happened in the forest?” she asked.

“Yeah.” I still didn’t want to talk about the spooky psychic vision she’d shared with me today. “Way better.”

“Good. I knew you’d bounce back.”

“Luckily, it didn’t take me long to juice up again.” My death spot had given me enough natural energy to last for a while, I supposed. “After I entered Gavin’s dream, I even had enough rah-rah to comb through his office for information before he started to wake up. I didn’t find much, though.”

“No evidence about Elizabeth?”

“None. Not out in the open, at least.” I still couldn’t figure out how to open drawers and closets—and squirming into them through the cracks only left me in closed and dark places—so who knew what was hidden away from me?

She let her arms float on the top of the churning water, as weightless as I was. Maybe she needed a lot of weight taken off her today and this was just another way a psychic and medium could do it.

“I want you to tell me every detail about his dream,” she said. “Nothing is too minor for you not to mention. We’re going to see what we can get out of it, and what it tells us about his state of mind.”

I did what she asked, and when I was done, her eyes were wide.

“I could interpret that dream for hours,” she said. “Wasn’t it terrifying to be in there?”

“Nah.”

Seriously, it was, but I wasn’t about to shout it out.

“When I have visions,” she said, “they aren’t even that intense. I’ve had a few that have come close, but…” She looked up at the sky, like it held every answer she needed. “Where do I even start with this one?”

“The dragon?” I asked.

“It’s as fine a place as any, but I have to tell you that the problem with interpreting dreams is that it’s more effective when you have feedback from the dreamer. That’s how it is when I read the tarot, too.”

So she was an experienced dream interpreter. Surprise, surprise.

“What do dragons even mean?” I asked.

“In this dream, it could be a symbol of a fiery, passionate nature. But those two traits can lead to trouble in a person. It could also mean the killer knows he needs some self-control.” She looked straight ahead. “Yet isn’t that something every murderer needs?”

I wished all killers had it, believe me. “What about the huge black bird in the fire sky?”

“Usually a bird signifies hopes and goals, but this creature sounds like a protector since it was flying over the girl in her air machine, like a wingman. Still, it was a black bird. A crow?”

“I think so.”

“Death,” she said. “Misfortune, disharmony. Or even a new phase in life on a metaphorical level. Death seems the most appropriate reading.”

Or was that the reading she wanted?

I still wasn’t sure. “And that weird air machine with the girl in it?”

“It could mean our subject is trying to rise to a new level, above the crime he committed. An escape from it. The girl, though… I wonder if she’s the feminine side of him, the feeling side, and it’s flying free even while shadowed by Elizabeth’s death, and that’s producing the disharmony.”

She sounded so positive of Gavin’s guilt that I felt naive for still wanting more definite proof. True, the bloody towel/scarf Elizabeth had dropped had looked pretty bad, but it still wasn’t enough for me.

She went on. “As far as the fire sky goes, it could mean destruction or desire or purification… or anger. That would apply most of all to him. And the walls with the water rising upward could mean that he’s overcome by his emotions. Since the water is moving toward that fire, it’s as if it’s trying to put out that anger in him because it’s burning him up.”

A thought intruded into my head. Anger that still remained after Elizabeth’s death, right? I wasn’t sure about that, either.

“At the end of that portion of the dream,” she said, “he shielded your eyes as you heard the sound of a sword, which put an end to those insane images and started a batch of new ones.”

“In the room with the books.” I added my two cents. “Books mean knowledge.”

“Yes, and also calmness.”

“He sure was calm in that chair.” With the blood running down from his fingers and the gun in his lap.

“It’s interesting to note that he wasn’t afraid of you, only curious. And since that part of his dream played out in real time, I think his brain was clearer than it was before in the fire and water room. I believe the things you saw in the book room are far more straightforward.”

“So the blood on Elizabeth’s scarf is his guilt coming out.” I think I’d read about a scarf the investigators had found in a pond near her body. The blood hadn’t come all the way out of it, and it was believed that the killer had used it to choke her.

I wanted to counter Amanda Lee’s interpretation with another dream image—the tears of blood on his masked face. It just didn’t sit right with me for some reason, and I didn’t know if it was because the red streaks made him look like a suffering martyr or an even bigger monster than I’d thought.

“At any rate,” she said, “the closed books mean he’s mysterious, which we already knew.”

“Could they also mean that you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover?”

If she could stare a hole through me, she would’ve.

“Just asking,” I said.

She sighed. “You’re right. That actually could be an interpretation. But do you really think it is, based on what you experienced? Remember how he was sitting in that chair, with blood coming down it, as if he was the commander of death. And when Elizabeth came out of his pool… that was something he could’ve seen in real life many times, but here it’s a moment that plays over and over again in his subconscious. She’s dressed in white, innocent, and she’s there to remind him that he’s guilty while those symbols of blood and death surround him.”

And here I’d thought his dream might’ve only been elements of his video game being recycled in his mind, sprinkled with a cryptic Elizabeth cameo. I think I still had a case for that.

“Amanda Lee,” I said, “when I cruised around the office before his staff left, I found some employees working on designs that resembled those air machines and that dragon.”

“Don’t underestimate the meaning of what went through his mind when you visited, Jensen. There are clues all over the place in there. We just need to figure them out. And to use them.”

“In hallucinations?” The things that were supposed to needle his guilty conscience and bring him to a confession?

“Exactly.”

Inspiration struck. “If I’m capable of getting into his head and collecting clues and planting ideas in dreamland, why do I need to pretend there’s a poltergeist going on? Isn’t getting into his head enough?”

Then we could leave Wendy out of this altogether.

“A poltergeist is still only an option, if we find that we need a cover story.”

Amanda Lee began to rise from the water. “You have so many gifts that I don’t have, and we shouldn’t dismiss anything that your abilities let us accomplish.”

Water dripped from her skin as she stepped out of the hot tub, reaching for a towel hanging from a nearby chair. I wasn’t into girls or anything, but Amanda Lee’s bikini showed off a hard body for an older woman.

Then again, I was kind of an old woman, too, wasn’t I? Except I’d never be old.

As she wrapped the towel around her, I couldn’t help comparing Amanda Lee, with her wet, slicked-back hair, to the dream image I’d seen of Elizabeth, just out of the pool.

It was a visual echo that disturbed me.

“Come on,” she said, motioning toward the cute wooden shack that served as a pool house. “We’ve got work to do and a full night ahead, if you’re up to it.”

Why not? It’s not like I needed sleep or anything.

The pool house wasn’t as big as the one the Edgetts had on their property, but as I floated inside with her, I noticed it was roomy enough, with a cushioned bench under a moonlit window and a closet that held beach clothing and supplies. Amanda Lee even had an old, tiny TV with bunny ears stored in here, perched near a swinging window that probably opened and doubled as a bar.

Somehow, I doubted she had many poolside soirees.

After she dried off and put on a caftan, she sat on the bench, the moon shadowing her.

“Are you ready for some exercise?” she asked.

“Always.” I’d been on the volleyball team during high school, but I knew she meant something way different here. Kinda cool that I didn’t have to run or diet to stay in shape anymore.

She said, “While you were gone, I was looking into hallucinations and how they’re connected to ghosts.”

Oh, I could barely wait for this. “And?”

“It seems there are some theories that say electromagnetic field exposure lowers melatonin levels in human bodies—”

Whoa, Nelly. “Melatonin?”

“Let’s just say it acts as an anticonvulsive. If you don’t have much in your system, the right temporal lobe of your brain will be vulnerable to small epileptic seizures.”

I sorted through the garble, then said, “And that can cause hallucinations.”

“Slight ones, if a ghost should touch a human. Your touch freezes us with electricity and lowers our melatonin level. So they say.”

So that’s another way I worked. It made me wonder how long it would take the world to definitely accept scientific explanations for ghosts. After all, back in my day, we wouldn’t have dreamed of owning lights that turned on and off when you clapped, like Amanda Lee had in the casita. That was most definitely magic, and I’d missed having those in my own apartment by only a few years because it hadn’t hit popular stride yet.

And yes, I had been that lazy after my parents had died. I’d mostly sat around watching TV, drinking beer, chilling out, getting up to shower and go to work, and starting all over again.

I suppose being caffeinated on Mello Yello when I was killed had given me some much-needed oomph as a ghost, at least.

When Amanda Lee crooked her finger at me, Come here, I approached.

“You need to master your form, especially when it comes to these hallucinations,” she said. “Seeing you become so gray today and almost retreat into another imprint worried me. You were shocked so badly that I feared losing you.”

I hovered there, not knowing what to say. Someone actually cared about me these days.

“So what’re we going to do to keep me from going gray again?” I asked softly.

She smiled. “You’re going to try a hallucination on me to see how much you can take.”

I backed up a bit. Was this Amanda Lee talking? The woman who had sprinkled salt around her windows and chimney to block spirits and also blacked me out when I’d tried to empathize with her?

When she lifted a finger, I knew there’d be caveats.

“This isn’t empathizing, understand? We’re attempting this experiment only one time, and you’ll have a specific purpose for coming into me. I think that’s part of the reason you can make humans hallucinate—knowing exactly what you want to get out of them.”

Such as making them happy, like I’d done with Wendy.

Or getting them to blurt out their crimes.

Amanda Lee was very serious now. “I’m warning you. I won’t give you emotional access, Jensen. The moment I feel you worming your way into my soul instead of my head—and I’ll know if you’re doing that—we’re done. This is only a test, and I’m trusting you.”

I nodded, eager to get started. Part of the reason I’d had a lot of friends way back when was that I’d never double-crossed them.

And I knew Amanda Lee had researched that.

Hell, I felt her confidence in me with every psychic vibe she was sending my way. Maybe she’d even foreseen the outcome of exercising my skills.

“What’s my goal?” I asked. “How about I get you to tell me about a minor scare in your life?”

That wouldn’t be so hard on Amanda Lee’s emotions—not like the far more horrific hallucinations I would be throwing at Gavin.

“We can be more ambitious than that.”

“But I don’t want to freak you out.”

“That’s the point, though. Scaring me. I want to see how you handle something a little more strenuous than the images you gave to Wendy.”

Okay. That did make sense. But it wasn’t like I was looking forward to booing her, much less booing me.

She understood my reluctance. “Don’t worry. I’ll be here, and if I feel you going into a time loop, I’ll pull you out again.”

“What if you’re too affected by the hallucination to do anything?”

She laughed. “We’ll begin with something mild.”

If she was this certain about it, I should be, too.

“All right,” I said. “Name your cup of terror.”

“Certainly. But one more thing—what I’m asking you to show me is a traumatic moment that will elicit a powerful reaction from me. Not strong enough to send me spinning, but enough to matter.”

“So what do you have in mind?” No pun intended.

She laughed again. “Don’t look so scared, Jensen.”

Not scared.

When she saw my resolve, she said, “I was in a car accident once, around the time you died. I won’t tell you any more details than that because I’d like to see what comes out of your spontaneous imagination. Are we set?”

I sucked it up. “Set.”

With another reassuring smile, she let herself relax, folding her hands on her lap as she waited for my touch.

I floated toward her, hovering over her cheek, tempted for one second to merely empathize, just to see the ins and outs of my partner.

But I pressed my essence against her skin hard instead, going deep, rushing right into her head, and—

Cactus, sand, desert, right outside the pool house window, rushing past, just like this pool house was a car, speeding down a road.

In front of us, a stretch of gray highway cut by headlights, whirring under the tires of the room.

The spinning sound of rubber over concrete. Eyelids getting heavy.

One blink. So tired.

Another blink, eyes closing longer this time.

Tired. Such a long trip.

We leave our eyes closed, giving in to the lull of the highway.

Blankness. Finally, some peace after an endless day… .

The electronic scream of a horn.

Our eyes blast open as—

I jerked out of the hallucination, pushing out of Amanda Lee and into the real world so quickly that I practically skidded to a stop near the opposite wall.

Across the room, which had gone back to normal, she was gripping the bench cushion, her gaze shocked, her body trembling.

Was she cold from my touch, just like Wendy had been?

“Why did you stop?” she asked.

“Because we were about to crash!” God, why else would I have stopped?

“Damn it.” She was shaking her head. “This is what I was afraid of. You’re holding back because you don’t want to experience what comes next. We weren’t really going to crash, even if I saw the other car coming toward us in this room as if it was really happening.”

Her criticism stung because she was right.

Was I really that much of a chicken?

“Your body,” I said. “You’re trembling, like you’re afraid. Like there’s adrenaline tearing you up.”

“I’m fine.” Then her voice gentled as she ran a gaze over me. “You’re no grayer than you were before, but how do you feel?”

I took stock of myself. “Fine, too.”

“That’s good.” She rubbed her arms, warming herself, then straightened in her seat, getting comfortable again.

Determination in action.

“Just for the record,” she said, “I didn’t live in California at the time. The accident happened back east, during winter, in the daylight. And I didn’t fall asleep at the wheel. Even so, I can feel my heart beating out of my chest right now. Everything was very real, so kudos for that.”

This woman was definitely a warrior. I wanted to be one, too.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” I said, sidling up to her.

She nodded, and I pushed against her cheek, zooming right into the hallucina—

Winter outside, snowy trees, gray sky flying past the pool house windows.

Tires over slush-laden concrete, the floor of the room becoming the road.

The sound of the radio. Air Supply. Mushy love.

Getting lost in the song, humming along with it.

“Here I am, the one that you love…” An oldie but goody—

The blare of a horn as two headlights appear on the wall, like a truck just now came over a hill, bearing down on us.

A scream. Yanking the wheel to the right, toward a guardrail emerging out of the wall—

I barely felt myself starting to pull out of her, but I wouldn’t. Not this time.

Flying all the way back into her, I saw—

—a guardrail, rushing toward us, the wheel out of control underneath our hands, taken over by the tires.

We crash, our seat belt strap knifes the air out of our lungs, our knees hit the dashboard, the car hood bunches, steam hisses from the engine.

The radio still plays.

“. . . asking for another day…”

We don’t move because our body won’t let us.

Got to start the car, we keep thinking, willing our hand to reach up and turn the key in the ignition.

Dull thoughts, knees hurting, steam hissing.

Got to start the car again…

This time, when I pulled out of her, I did it shakily, slowly, like I was getting out of that scrunched, seething compact car and stumbling away from it.

I was weaker, but still okay. Amanda Lee, though?

Not so sure.

“Hey,” I said, going back to her. She was dazed, her hand cupped over her chest, her body quaking harder. Was she only freezing from my touch? Or worse?

“Amanda Lee?”

I wanted to shake her, but then she blinked, leaned forward, her breathing harsh. She could only shake her head, gasp for oxygen.

Out of pure worry, I did the last thing she’d wanted me to do. Automatically, I touched her, only meaning to try and ghost-heal or something. To do whatever I could to help her.

But that’s not what happened at all.

Because of the visceral car crash, her defenses were down for a splinter of time. At even a slight touch, I zoomed right in.

For the first time ever, I crashed through the black wall she’d erected around her emotions, just like I was bursting through a bank of dark ice.

In my empathy, the whir of her thoughts circled my vision. It was like she was in shock from the car accident. She’d brushed right by death, and moments of remorse had taken her over.

Standing over a grave, touching the headstone.

Thinking of blond hair, blue eyes, a secret smile that said, “Someday they’ll all know.”

Thinking of the one voice that had mattered more than anyone else’s before it’d been silenced.

Her voice…

Unlike most times when I’d been jarred out of a human, this exit was slow, like I had lost heart and was trudging away from the person who’d taken it.

Numb once again, I hovered over Amanda Lee, waiting for her to tell me why she’d been lying to me about knowing Elizabeth Dalton.