Author's notes: Post Twilight. I should be working on Querida Mia, but I'm lazy. And I like the characters in this one better. Organization's in question though.
Beyond the Door
There's a price for breaking the rules, so Death has come to claim it. Taking a step beyond the doors, Jesse journeys into the unknown to find his querida. With unsettling denizens and impossible locations, his only guide is a quirky young musician who calls himself Virgil.
Chapter 1
I patted the dirt with the sole of my shoe, almost nostalgically. I usually didn't come to the Mission grounds on weekdays, but I had an appointment. The sun was mostly overhead, which meant about noon then. Somewhere in the distance I could vaguely hear the students bustling about for lunch, Susannah among them. But I wasn't here to see her, unfortunately.
I slowly paced in a plot about seven by three feet. The grass there was suspiciously shorter than the surrounding area, as if it had only started growing a while ago. There used to be a marker here as well, custom ordered by the few who knew me. Here, on this spot, used to be something important. Well, at the time, it wasn't important to me. I didn't need it to move around or talk to Susannah, certainly. But since last month, it was what changed my entire afterlife around.
Last month, I got my body back.
See, for the last century and a half, I have been dead. Yes, dead. Being a ghost wasn't so bad, honestly. I didn't need to eat, never felt ill, and could still learn about the world around me. Of course, not being visible to most, I did get terribly lonely. That was solved, however, when Susannah came into my life. In more ways than one.
That's a much longer story though.
But let me get back to more recent times. Like I said, I have been alive (again) for a little under a month. With much help from Father Dominic, I have a small place in town near my job at the Historical Society Museum. It was a little unsettling at first to see things that belonged to my late acquaintances, but I've made my peace with it. Normally at this time, I would be giving more lectures about the 1800's to various groups of college students or children on field trips but today I needed to have a special talk.
Right on time, my appointment arrived. Paul Slater stepped out from under the archway and greeted me with a "Hey." It wasn't enthusiastic – given our history I would be surprised if it was – but it was friendly. The last time we met, during prom, he had been very nervous. Not of me, necessarily, but our terms before that had been shaky, putting it lightly. That was the first time we met each other since I had been alive, and both of us were unsure where we stood. But Paul surprised me in apologizing for everything. We didn't get a good chance to talk it over though since we somehow gathered a crowd of onlookers – overwhelmingly made up of girls – which kept us from talking in depth about what had happened. I excused myself to talk to Adam just so that they would disperse. Before we split up though, he asked that I meet him sometime so we could talk.
So here we were.
"Hey, Slater." I asked casually as he walked up to me, "So what did you want to talk about?"
He cleared his throat and said, "Well, we didn't get a chance to talk very much. You know, about last month."
I nodded. "I see. Anything in particular you had in mind?" I knew very well what he wanted to talk about, but waited for him to bring it up himself. I wanted to see if what Susannah said was true, that Paul had changed. Not that he wasn't still the most popular guy at school, but in terms about how their relationship stood. As friends, that is.
But she did have a point. Just looking at the way Slater carried himself at the moment, one could tell something was different. He just seemed, for a lack of better word, softer. Not quite so arrogant and somewhat unsure.
He continued, "About Suze. She's probably already told you, but I just wanted to let you know face-to-face that I'm not up to anything. Not digging up some old friends of yours, not planning your re-death or anything like that. I really do wish you guys the best of luck." There was a moment of hesitation, as ifhe was waiting for a response.
I nodded, but didn't say anything. He wasn't looking me in the eye, but it wasn't because he was being shifty. In fact, Paul's brand of shiftiness was more of a smug I'm-not-telling-you-everything aura. This was more as if he had a pain somewhere inside him that he was trying his hardest to ignore. And I knew what it was.
Paul really did care for Susannah, but was renouncing his rivalry anyway.
But he surprised me further by straightening up to add, "Just… I want you to trust me."
My eyes widened, and I blurted out, "Why?" He looked hurt, but I quickly amended, "Not that I think you're dangerous. I'm just wondering why you want my trust. I can believe Susannah when she's says you've reformed, but that is an unusual request."
Shrugging, he said, "Forgiveness is one thing, but I was hoping we could bury the hatchet all together. You know, start over and maybe become friends. And," he smirked in a way that suited him much better, "I think we owe it to Suze anyway since we kinda broke her door."
I laughed and held my hand out to him, which he shook gratefully. Yes, it would be useless for either of us to harbor grudges. It would only lead to misery for Susannah and possibly her family.
After that, Paul told me news of Dr. Slaski. He was in much better condition and – whenever his nurse wasn't present – was teaching Paul about shifting in moderation. He had offered to teach Suze, but she decided that shifting just wasn't something she wanted to mess with anytime soon. Paul, in turn, was also redeeming himself with Jack, his little brother who had stayed with their parents. He wasn't a shifter, but any mediator could use some help once in awhile.
Paul hadn't yet pried out what had happened to Dr. Slaski that made him turn his own life around, but he assured me that he was working on it. As of yet, the response now went from grumbling to "Mind your own business." I suppose that could be considered making process.
We parted later when he had to go back to class. I stopped by Father Dominic's office for a casual talk. He looked a bit worse for wear, but he brushed it off as having a bad night's sleep. A week's worth. When I inquired further, Father Dominic said he was old enough to handle a few bad dreams. He then handed me a briefcase full of papers, which needed to be completed in order to prove I existed. Suddenly being alive after 150 years was tricky business. No Social Security number, no birth records, nothing. I wasn't entirely sure if this was tweaking the legal system, but I hardly had a choice.
Later that night as I was concentrating on filling out the various forms, the phone rang. I picked up and held the cordless between my ear and shoulder, still checking off a series of yes or no questions about whether or not I had been convicted of a felony. "Hello?"
"Hey, Jesse," came Susannah's voice over the line, "Have fun talking to Paul?"
I almost marked the wrong box. "How did you know about that?"
"I have my sources." Which probably translated to 'CeeCee, Adam, and I spied on you.'
Sighing audibly, I said, "I'm sure you three would make wonderful detectives."
I could just imagine her rolling her eyes at the comment before saying, "Yeah, we just need you, Paul, and the Mystery Machine and we could all hunt ghosts together."
"Very funny." Sarcastic, but I smiled genuinely. I had been doing that a lot recently. Just then, I noticed my watch. "It's getting late, querida. Don't you have to study for tomorrow?" She had a test in one of her science classes. I knew because she had been complaining about the teacher a few days earlier.
Susannah assured me, "I totally have it covered."
"Uh-huh," I replied, "Going to look over CeeCee's notes in the morning then?" I knew her too well.
"No." There was a pause as Susannah tried to come up with an excuse. But then I suppose she remembered that they never worked since she relented, "Fine, I'll get to it but..."
When she trailed off, I asked with concern, "Susannah?"
"Oh sorry, there's another guest." By the way she said 'guest' it was obviously of the undead variety. Her voice muffled slightly as she turned her attention to the visitor. "Ah, so what's your problem?"
"Be nice," I reminded her.
"I am! Besides," she added in a whisper, "this guy's a little freaky." She spoke to the ghost again, "Whoa, did you get red contacts somewhere? Because that's-"
There was a soft thud.
"Susannah?" Silence. "Susannah!"
One month ago, we had gone to the prom together. We laughed and danced, the party also serving as our own private celebration of my newfound life.
One month ago, Paul had let go of Susannah and started re-evaluating his life. He was listening to his grandfather and learning how to use his shifting powers in moderation.
One month ago, everything had finally been all right.
Author's Notes: The original concept was conceived when I was introduced to the works of Jacek Yerka and Zdislaw Beksinski (recently found murdered) and completely adored their surrealism and creepy-tastic concepts, respectfully. Google them up and have a look. My mind, which loves unfinished projects, came up with this story. Very Dante-esque. Happy readings.
