Hush
Ten
An hour and a half later, I was pacing the floor of the kitchen while Jesse sat at the table, much more calmly, and drank a glass of wine. He'd offered me a glass, but I declined it in favor of intermittent sips of water between paces.
"So Patrick is working with Alexa," I said. "Does that mean he's a mediator?"
"I'd assume so," Jesse said. "Otherwise, how would the two of them be communicating?"
"She could be, I don't know, leaving him signs or something. Writing him messages on paper. If she's good enough with her spectral powers to ram glass into someone's forehead, I'm sure she can pick up a pencil. Or a stick even. Then she could leave words in the sand or something."
"Or, much more likely, Patrick can communicate with the dead just as we can, and when Alexa died, he kept talking to her."
"But he looked so sad the other day. Would he have really looked like that if he was still talking to her everyday?"
Jesse looked at me skeptically before he said, "They loved each other but couldn't be together-not really. You tell me if that ever made you feel sad."
I paced even faster then. Jesse was right.
"Besides," he continued, "it didn't make any sense for Daniel's mother to move on while this ghost was still a danger. Patrick must have found her, after you talked to her, and exorcised her."
"Fine. He's a mediator," I said.
"Why are you so reluctant to admit that he's a mediator?" Jesse asked.
"Because first of all, there is no reason so many mediators should be in northern California. Not unless we're on some kind of spectral Hellmouth."
Jesse had never seen Buffy, but he didn't ask for an explanation.
I continued by saying, "There's you, me, Father Dom, the triplets, Daniel, and now Patrick. We could form a coalition. A union. We should basically have a civil rights movement at this point."
"I am sure you would make very creative picket signs," Jesse said, in a slight show of support but mostly in a show of sarcasm.
"The last time a mediator and a ghost were up to no good together was back when Paul…"
And I trailed off, but Jesse finished my sentence for me.
"Decided to form an alliance with my murderer and conspiring ex-fiance. I remember."
And what Jesse said was what I'd been about to say before I stopped myself short. Because I'd remembered something a little more recent.
"Don't get mad," I said.
Jesse raised an eyebrow at me. "How many times do I have to ask you not to tell me how I'm going to feel about something before you've said it?"
"It's a new detail to a story involving Paul," I said.
Jesse poured more wine into his glass and took a very long swig before he looked at me again. I tried my best not to roll my eyes, but I wasn't entirely sure I succeeded.
When Jesse lowered the glass from his lips, I spoke again.
"Remember back when I was in high school? Back when you were still a ghost? That time when I came home with mangled feet?"
"I remember."
"Yeah, well, it was more than just the fact that I hadn't broken my shoes in. That was the same day that…" and I hesitated briefly before I continued on quickly. It was better to fill in the blank myself than give Jesse the opportunity to do so. "That was the same day that Paul decided he'd make an advance on me."
Jesse took another long sip of wine and didn't say anything. I could tell he was mad but didn't want to admit it because then that would mean I'd guessed his emotions better than he had.
"What about that day?" he asked finally.
"He tried to stop me from leaving. So then this tough biker looking ghost guy came out of nowhere because apparently Paul had this guy on contract to do his evil bidding." Like keeping innocent school girls in proximity of the danger of Paul's lips.
"So you think Patrick might have Alexa on retainer as some sort of slave?"
"Ghostly minion," I said. "And I don't know what I think. Except… What we do know is that Patrick is getting all of the benefits out of the robberies with basically none of the risk. Alexa's the one doing the thieving and murdering on his behalf. She could be the Bonnie to his Clyde or…"
"Or she could be under his control," Jesse finished. "But can you see him controlling anyone? He didn't seem feeble to you at all when we met him?"
"I can't see him dating Alexa either, but he did. And he sounds like he's capable of a lot when he's angry."
"Do you want to try and summon her somewhere and talk to her?" Jesse asked.
I was the one to raise an eyebrow this time as I said, "You said summoning up a homicidal ghost was a dumb idea the other night."
"Things change," Jesse said with a shrug. "She could be a victim. There are plenty of people I've tended to at the hospital who were victimized in their relationships and did things they normally wouldn't have had they had their own agency."
I thought about that, and I nearly agreed with him. We could go someplace abandoned and talk to Alexa without her having to come into the primarily ghost-free sanctuary we tried to maintain our house as. But then my stomach lurched slightly.
I initially confused the sensation with morning sickness, and I almost started pacing my way into the nearest bathroom, when I realized that my unease was more mental than it was physical. If I was wrong and Alexa wasn't a victim, I would be putting our unborn child, who Jesse didn't even know about, in danger. If things went south and I had to give Alexa a one-way ticket to shadowland, I wasn't sure my body could handle it.
So I decided to play it safe.
"I'll try calling David first," I said. "He or Shahbaz might have some research done on ghostly minions."
I found David in my contacts as I kept working on the glass of water Jesse had poured for me earlier.
"Suze?" David said. "It's not Sunday. Is something wrong?"
"Am I not allowed to call my favorite stepbrother on weekdays?" I asked as I slid into a seat across from Jesse.
"Of course you are. It's just… You usually don't."
"You're right," I said sheepishly. "It's a ghost problem."
"It's about those robberies, isn't it? I saw the surveillance footage, and the first thing I thought of was a possible spectral presence. I should've asked about it yesterday, but…"
"Don't beat yourself up about it. Seriously. Me and Jesse are only just now starting to get to the bottom of things."
"Did you catch the ghost involved?"
"No. But we know who the ghost is. And we know who she's working with."
"Working with?"
Instead of explaining, I said, "What do you know about ghost minions?"
There was a long pause before David said, "Ghost...minions?"
"Ghost minions," I repeated. "Ghosts who do the bidding of living people. More specifically, mediators."
"I haven't come across anything like that in my research. Are you sure they exist?"
"Paul Slater had one," I said. "So maybe it's just a shifter thing?" I didn't like saying the word "shifter." It felt dirty to me-mostly because it was connected to Paul.
"Maybe…"
"Could you do me a favor?" I asked.
"Not if it's what I think you're going to ask me," David said quickly.
"David, Dave, come on. This is life or death. Someone already died in one of these robberies. Think of all the homicide you'd be preventing if you just asked him."
"I'm not asking Shahbaz."
Shahbaz was, at the moment, both his roommate and his ex-boyfriend, and things between the two of them had gotten frosty as of late.
"Think about it, David," I said. "The two of you get to talking about ancient prophecies, one thing leads to another, and you know."
David was silent for a full minute, and I pulled my phone away from my ear to check that our connection hadn't been broken.
Finally, he said, "Is that how you think foreplay for gay sex works?"
I nearly spat out my water. "I meant maybe you'd talk about your relationship or something," I said.
"Oh," David said. "He spilled beer on my laptop while I was working on my thesis the other day. And I didn't have the section I was working on saved in the cloud yet. It's too late for us, Suze."
David was working on his thesis in his fifth year of school at Harvard because he had decided, a few semesters ago, it would be nice to take on an entirely different major in addition to Computer Science. The second major he added on didn't actually exist at the college, so he forged a course of study for himself. In parapsychology.
"Fine," I relented. "You don't have to ask Shahbaz, but keep a lookout, OK?"
"I will," David said, and there was a moment of hesitation before he went on to say, "Does Jesse know about everything this time? If I accidentally tell him, you're not going to be mad, are you?"
"I wasn't mad last time. You were right to tell him in the end. And he would've been too stubborn to let it go once he figured you were hiding something."
Jesse, who had been listening one-sidedly to the progression of my conversation with David, grinned sheepishly at me. He knew I was talking about him.
I ended my call with David shortly after that, once we'd promised to talk on Sunday like usual.
"What did David say?" Jesse asked.
"Nothing useful. He and Shahbaz ended on a bad note and haven't gotten any better, so there's no telling if he has research about this or not. Maybe you should go and seduce Shahbaz and-."
The look Jesse gave me was so reproachful I didn't bother finishing my sentence.
"If Plan A didn't work, and you're not committed enough to do Plan B," I said as Jesse rolled his eyes, "then Plan C it is."
"And what, might I ask, is Plan C? Summoning the ghost?"
"No. We're going to have to summon the devil himself."
Jesse groaned. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather just summon Alexa? You talking to Slater will only encourage him."
"Paul's engaged now. To a rich and famous model slash actress. He's not interested anymore," I said. I was lying to Jesse and almost to myself as the words left my mouth. I felt like we could all be in a retirement home years from now, and Paul would still be sending me flowers whenever he saw fit.
"Sure," Jesse said sarcastically, probably picturing a geriatric Paul trying to lure me away with gifts, too.
"If it makes you feel better, you can be involved every step of the way," I said. I was already looking through my contacts for El Diablo and hit the call button as soon as I found Paul's phone number. The ringback tone sounded across the room a few seconds later.
"See," I said, "it's on speaker."
Paul picked up a couple of seconds later.
"Suze," he said. "To what do I owe the pleasure this time?"
The way he said "pleasure" made me shudder and made Jesse looked even more annoyed than he had before.
"You're on speakerphone, Paul," I said. "Say hi to Jesse."
Paul didn't say anything for a moment, and I wondered if he was rethinking his previous strategy of sexually harassing me. Jesse wasn't in front of him or anything, but I bet when someone does as much damage to your face as Jesse had (the broken nose in Shadowland, the concussion and other damages from Brad's failed hot tub party, the punch in the face back when we were in the 1850s, and the broken jaw from November before last made four times if I wasn't wrong) you learn to fear them instinctually.
Strategy change seemed more or less an accurate description for what happened. His voice lost its more seductive edge and became much more straightforward.
"Well, I guess that means I can tell him congratulations."
"Congratulations on what?" Jesse asked.
My stomach dropped down to my shoes.
"Congratulations on the whole marriage thing," I said. "I mean, it's his first time speaking to you since…" Since that time you broke his jaw and probably would've gotten locked up for a few years had I not blackmailed him to get you out.
"Wait, wait, wait," Paul said, and I could hear the glee in his voice as he dragged out his words. "You're telling me de Silva doesn't know yet?"
I tried to reach for the phone to cut him off, but Jesse's hand cupped it and held it out of my reach.
"I don't know what yet?" Jesse asked, his eyes narrowed.
Paul didn't answer him though. He just kept gloating.
"I really would've thought the two of you would've worked on your communication skills by now. Did you know that failure to communicate properly is a leading cause of divorce? I know Suze has to know that, since she's supposed to be a psychologist or whatever. I guess you'll just have to hope that she teaches your kid better."
Jesse froze.
"Kid?" he repeated.
He looked at me for confirmation, but I couldn't meet his eyes.
"Shit, I meant to hold off on letting you figure it out for another couple of minutes. But congratulations on your impending fatherhood and your continuing marriage to your lying wife."
If Paul had been in the room with us physically, he would've had yet another bone broken courtesy of Jesse. But since he wasn't, Jesse just said a nasty swear word and pressed the end call button. It was strange because, even though I knew we were about to have a massive argument, all I could think about was how much more satisfying it would have been to hang up angrily on Paul back when angrily hanging up meant physically slamming a phone down on to the receiver. Pressing a little red touch screen button had nowhere near as much of a therapeutic effect.
He stared at the phone for a few moments before his gaze shifted to mine.
I swallowed nervously. He looked pissed.