Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, it is my very great pleasure to present to you, the magnificent, the marvelous, the most razzly dazzling lady of the stage . . .
Mariah !!!
Thank you, Thank you. I love you all.
Read this chapter carefully. You might pick up a little (sexually-transmitted) something.
. . . If you're lucky.
Re-3) Fairytale Time
I can't believe it. I fainted. I actually FAINTED! Did anyone ELSE faint? . . . Oh, I'm so PATHETIC. I feel like one of those dumb bitch 19th century chicks who'd faint if someone said "penis".
Actually. Scrap that. Penis would have been a heart attack. "Ankle" was faint-worthy.
. . . if I had a time machine, I would go to the 19th century and run around singing the Penis song just to see what would happen . . . bet you my Jimmy Choo gladiator heels I'd be burned for witchcraft . . .
. . . you may be wondering of I had hit my head?
. . . I know I was.
But oh no. turns out I'm not nearly that lucky. I opened my eyes to find myself on my bed, my head propped up on pillows.
. . . And Nick Slater's face mere inches from my own.
Um . . . Date Rape?
. . . Oh, that little bastard must have caught me! And put me here!
BASTARD!!!!
I'd much rather . . .
What, Melinda? You'd much rather what? Hit the floor and concuss yourself?
. . . Uh, when it comes down to it . . . yeah, actually, I would.
I groaned a little.
I guess Nick thought this was down to an injury of some sort, instead of just a confusing skitzo conversation with myself, as he reached down and grabbed my shoulders.
"Melinda!" He gave me a little shake. "MELINDA!!"
"Ow, yeah, shaking Nick?" I said, pushing his hands away and sitting up. "Not cool."
"Melinda! MELINDA! Thank god, you're awake!"
"I know that." I said grumpily, "Now gerroff me." slapping him away again and attempting to stand up.
Not one of my better ideas as it turns out.
Oh I got up all right. It was staying there that seemed to be the problem. I stood up, and was all right for a second, before I swayed.
I didn't fall exactly, I grabbed onto the bedpost, ensuring I just swung around it and ended up on the bed again. I must have looked like a really stoned poll dancer.
Great. Every little girls dream.
Not.
"Melinda, please, let me—"
"Fuck off Nick." I muttered. "I don't need your help."
HE should be the one on the ground. I should have punched him in the nose while I was still upright.
A perfect opportunity gone to waste!
Why me. I ask you.
Couldn't I just be 'NORMAL'!!!!
'Normal' teenagers can't see DEAD PEOPLE.
BUT NO!!!
Apparently me being 'normal is not part of the PLAN.
Boy. When I finally meet my maker, am I going to have some choice words for him!
HOW embarrassing. Fainting I mean. How GAY. I guess that in light of my recent stress and newfound abilities, my conscious just gave up and let my subconscious take over.
Nick ignored me and took my hand.
I was actually too surprised at this to remember to be angry.
"Melinda, stay here. I'm just going to go and get your mum, okay? Don't move."
"Wait! You don't need to—" but he was already gone.
I sighed and looked up, and almost fell off the bed again. Stacy was still there. Astounding.
"Oh sick of being dead are you?" I asked snottily.
"Melinda," Stacy said wearily, "Don't start." Then she mumbled so quietly she must not have meant for me to hear, "I knew you were going to be like this"
"Go back to your cave batgirl. You're dead to me. Oh wait,' I said, smiling unkindly, "You're dead to everyone."
"That was uncalled for." She said, sounding hurt.
"So was SUICIDE."
"I DIDN'T I--! Oh, God, where to start . . . Nick was right . . ."
"Wait a minute, WHO was right? NICK??? So ignore ME and go and talk to HIM??? WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU DO THAT????"
"Well if you'd SHUT YOUR TRAP for long enough, I'd be able to clue you in!" Stacy shouted, as she started to pace the room. I could hear the masses of jewelry she always wore jangling. "I haven't been hiding from you. Not at all. I've been following you, and watching you. I didn't even know you could see me! I knew Father Dom's could, but I didn't know that you or Nick could see me! He DID see me as it turns out. He saw me following you, and he explained everything to me.
She smiled and I rolled my eyes.
"He told me how you could see me, but I couldn't let you, and it made sense. The other ghosts all spoke of the forbidden mediator. That's you," she added. "You're like a ghost taboo. At least, you were, while you didn't know. Now life is going to suck," she attempted a weak smile.
Then something caught up with me.
"So you mean to tell me," I said loudly. "That not only can my MOTHER and FATHER and NICK see dead people, but also FATHER DOM? . . . Isn't lying like a commandment or whatever?"
Ooh that priest. He is so going to hell.
Yeah Melinda. If he's off to hell, then you're basically screwed, because there is no dude holy-er than father D.
I doubt even JESUS was as holy as Father D.
. . . Sorry Jesus. It's a compliment, really, it is.
"God, couldn't SOMEONE have clued me in? This is just not been my week."
"Yeah, yeah yeah, witter on about how misunderstood you are later—"
"MISUNDERSTOOD????" I screeched, "Dead people Stacy!!!!! DEAD ONES!!!!"
"I know ok! I KNOW!! But unless you want to add your own murder to that list of things that went wrong then—"
"My murder??? Huh? I mean, I know I'm not exactly miss POPULARITY, but who the hell—"
"LISTEN TO ME!!!" Stacy screamed, stopping her pacing to grab my shoulders and shake me violently.
Whoa. Why is it always the littlest people who can yell the loudest? Stacy was quite petite, and I had to admit, she cut an intimidating figure.
She wore tight white jeans, with a clinging satin racer back top, accessorized with a white patterned neck scarf and pearls (at the same time! Only Stacy could have dressed like this, and made it work,) and she wore her straight shoulder length black hair messy. I then flicked a glance downward to see if she wore her favorite green Chuck Taylors with the ensemble, and she did.
It was then that I remembered to focus on what she was saying.
Seeing as it did kind of directly involve me and all that.
"IM TRYING TO TELL EXACTLY WHY SOMEONE WANTS TO KILL YOU!!!!" Stacy screamed some more. "SO SHUT UP!!!"
Jesus Christ. She just keeps getting louder and louder.
"I DIDN'T DO IT OK!!!!! I DIDN'T KILL MYSELF!!!! I WASN'T THE ONE WHO DID IT!!!!"
. . .What the hell??
"I'm not dead because I WANT to be!!!! I thought you'd know me better than that! You KNOW I think that suicide is the most SELFISH thing you can do!"
"Tell me what happened Stacy," I said quietly.
"I was in the bathroom," she said, her voice dropping down to barely a whisper, "painting my nails. Mocha Brown." She said with a dry, humorless laugh.
I remembered the colour all to well.
The thing I remember most about that night was Stacy's mother's nails as she reached hopelessly out to her daughters lifeless body, again and again . . .
"It all happened so quickly. The brush just shot out of my hand and started painting by itself. Then the bottle started hovering, before hurtling towards me. I ducked, and turned just in time to see the bottle smash against the wall. But then I felt a towel go around my neck and tighten, cutting off my air.
"I—I tried to scream but I couldn't," Stacy's voice wobbled a little. "I was choking and clawing at the towel . . . then I was thrown across the room, and I smacked my head on the tiles and slipped. I tried to get up, really I did. But I was just too slow . . . I felt something hard and cool kicked next to me. I looked up, and just stopped fighting. Quit struggling all together. My mind jus went blank, and I found myself extending my arm to pick up the object next to me. I didn't want to, but I couldn't stop myself! I lifted it to my head and . . . and . . pulled." Stacy swallowed heavily, and I saw tear wind their way over her pretty cheeks. "but I swear I didn't mean to! It was like it wasn't even me! It was like it was somebody else! A—"
I understood.
"A ghost." I said shortly.
"Exactly. " She said, looking me in the eyes. And I saw the raw fear and pain in her eyes.
"But I think I got a glimpse of him before--I had to! Its all I've thought about, and—"
"Stace. Its ok." I tried to soothe her, "It doesn't—"
"But I have to! He was heavy," she rushed her words together so I had trouble keeping up. "And around 50, shorter than me, and a bit of an eyesore—you have to know Melinda! What if he gets to you? Don't you see? You are in big trouble! If he finds you--"
"Then it saves me the bother of hunting him down."
"No! NO!!!! LISTEN TO ME!! He'll kill you all, and everyone you love!! Do you want to die Melinda? Do you want to be dead like me?"
And then I saw.
And for the first time all week, I knew exactly what was going on.
(A/N: ON GUARD!!! readers sensitive to blasphemy, LOOK AWAY!!!!)
Cogida.
(A/N: Yes I know it's in Spanish. And I know im going to get asked it's meaning. I'll give you a hint; in English it has four letters and begins with "F". So . . . AS YOU WERE!!!!)
I won't lie. I was worried. Not for myself, I wanted the people I care about no where near this dead psychopath . . .
Oh GOD, what have I gotten myself into now! It's all my fault! It's always all my fault! How do I get myself into crap like this?
Just then the door was opened, and Mom, Dad, Nick, Cee Cee, Arabia and Alannah all came through.
Then all those who could see dear Stacy, blinking furiously to hold back tears, saw her.
Those who couldn't? Yeah, they just stood there, looking blankly around the room.
Mom took control straight away. She turned to Cee Cee and said; "Cee, I'm sure the girls would love some desert. Could you possibly see to that for me?"
Cee Cee frowned. "Huh?" Then quickly her eyes widened, she looked around the room and nodded to mum. "Come on girls. The freezers unguarded." She made as if put an arm around Arabia's shoulder and lead her out of the room.
Arabia stuck her chin out determinedly and said; "No thank you. I'm good. Nick said something about Melinda—"
"I'm fine guy's." I cut her off. "Really."
I could see by the looks on their faces that they just thought I was in need of a little more mourning time.
I wished. I didn't need to mourn her, she was right here. Looking sadder than ever that her friends couldn't even see her.
Alanna shot me a strange look, but nevertheless her and Arabia left with Cee, and that was the idea, so I suppose . . .
Then it hit me. All of us, grouped here together, it was like painting a big bulls-eye on us, just like killing . . . 4 birds with one stone. Or gun.
Then I started babbling.
"MOM-I-GET-IT-NOW-STACY-DIDN'T-KILL-HERSELF-SHE-WAS-KILLED-THERE-IS-A-BIG-DIFFERENCE-AND-I-KNOW-WHO-DID-IT-OUR-ONLY-CLUE-IS-THAT -HES-A-GHOST-SO-THAT'S-WHY-HE-MADE-IT-LOOK-LIKE-STACE-HERSELF-HAD-DONE-IT-AND-BECAUSE-HE'S-A-GHOST-ITS-NOT-LIKE-HE-COULD-BE-PROSECUTED-BUT-WE-DO-HAVE-ONE-CLUE-SO-WE-HAVE-A-CHANCE- HE'S-MIDDLE-AGED-AND-UGLY-AND-VERY-VERY-DEAD!-I-NEVER-SAID-IT-WAS-A-GOOD-CLUE-BUT-IYTS-STILL-A-CLUE-EVEN-IF-THERE-ARE-A LOT-OF-UGLY-MIDDLE-AGE-PEOPLE-OUT-THERE-BUT-HOW-MANY-UGLY-MIDDLE-AGED-GHOSTS-ARE-THERE-AND-WHILE-HE'S-STILL-AT-LARGE-WERE-ALL-IN-DANGER-SO-DON'T-YOU-SEE-WE-HAVE-TO-GO-WE-HAVE-TO-"
It was no good. They didn't speak babble! Well, mom does, but she was still preoccupied fussing over my so-called faint.
When, REALLY, I didn't faint . . . I just . . . tripped over. Yeah.
ANYWAY!!!!
What is it with the rest of the world's communication skills! EVERYONE should have to speak multiple languages! It should be LAW. I can speak Babble, I can Speak French—well all right the only words I know are swear words and simple, important phrases such as "Mom, the cats dead!" Or, "What happened to Freddie!" but I speak fluent English and . . .
Wait.
"¡cPapá! ¡Era ASESINATO! ¡Stacy no se mató! ¡La ASESINARON! ¡Por un viejo individuo gordo! Y ahora él está después de que yo, y todos nosotros, y nosotros tengan una diana en nosotros, y, mierda, somos adentro profundos."
Spanish.
Fluent English and Spanish.
(A/N: Translation: "DAD! It was MURDER! Stacy didn't kill herself! She was MURDERED! By a fat old guy! And now he's after me, and all of us, and we have a bulls-eye on us, and, Shit, we are in deep.")
Dad got it. And he translated to the rest of the room for me too.
He had to.
I was still muttering darkly in Spanish about all the terrible things I was going to do to this ghost when I caught up with him.
You see; I don't usually panic in situations like this. I'm sure you'll agree with me when I say this has been an exceptional week.
Instead, I have this little personality defect, so when I get mad, I just get this irresistible urge to break things.
Mainly people.
It's a terrible habit, I know.
I think Mom was having a similar reaction to that of mine. No, really. I could practically see her wondering where she was going to get hold of chicken blood at this hour.
I think I know a place. How fast could we get to—
Dad seemed to know what we were thinking. "Susannah. Melinda. No. No exorcisms, until we consult with Padre."
SPEAKING OF WHICH.
"SO—" but didn't get a chance to finish what promised to be a long and successful rant, due to Nick butting in.
"Are you sure Melinda?" he said, leaning up against my doorframe. "I mean, you want to think about your next move a bit, don't just rush blindly into things. You just fainted, you're probably a little confused—"
I didn't FAINT!!! I just . . . closed my eyes. For a . . . nap. Yes, I was . . .tired!
"SHUT UP NICK!!!! What the fuck do you know about anything!—By the way, MUM, DAD, small bone to pick! How come HE," I pointed rudely at Nick, "knew about me before I even knew about me!?"
"Umm," said Mom slowly, and she shot a nervous glance at dad. "Well ha-ha funny story that. You see, Carmel actually turns out to be quite the ghost central! We should really hold those seminars—"
"Susannah." Dad said warningly.
"Alright alright," She muttered, and I heard something about 'not messing up hair' and 'crucial issues' before she carried on. "Look. That was my fault. I came up with the idea not long after you were born. We knew you would be able to see them, me being a shifter, your dad being a mediator, so we both decided—"
Dad elbowed her.
"OK! Jeez, keep your hair on. I decided, not to tell you. You didn't need to know! There were more than enough freaks in this town to keep them away from you."
Dad elbowed her again.
"What?" She demanded, "Jesse, interaction with dead people on a daily basis pretty much amounts to being freakish! I was just abbreviating! For God's sake! You and Father D, always with this 'gift' crap."
Dad took over. "A gift like that which you've been blessed with Melinda is just that. A gift. You can use it for the good of others, to help and—"
Yeah, you've mentioned this before, papa (A/N: father. Obviously.) dear.
"I'm with Mom." I interrupted. "It's a frigging curse and it is freakish. Continue Mom."
Mom sighed. "Don't blame Father Dominic, or your Dad for this Melinda. It was my idea. I persuaded them to go along with it, and it took some work. And I wouldn't hesitate to do it all again too. Think of it, a TWO YEAR OLD being plagued by the undead. A KID. You didn't know what it's like, dead women waking you up by screaming at you in the middle of the night, then coming back to scream at you some more, because—whoops—you delivered a message to the wrong man, and almost get electrocuted, burnt and forced into ugly bathing suits in the process! Ooh, murder in the paper, you know your going to be busy for a while . . ghosts almost killing your principal and possible date . . . dropping crucifixes on people . . . throwing school founders statue's heads at you . . . vicious ex girlfriends/cousins waking you up and threatening to kill you if you didn't halt the current backyard construction . . .It SUCKED. There was no reason for you to deal with that when you were so young, there were more than enough of us to keep any ghosts away from you. Father Dom reluctantly agreed, and so did Jesse."
Dad muttered something about feminine wiles.
Which made me decide, I REALLY DON'T WANT TO KNOW HOW SHE TALKED DAD INTO AGREEING.
Father Dom? Fine, priests aren't really susceptible to fluttering eyelashes, but dad? Yeah, whenever Mom doesn't want to cook dinner, all she has to do is pout and he caves. Dad has no will power when it comes to her; she's his weak spot. And she knows it.
"We were going to tell you. Very soon actually. It was only a little bit sooner than we'd planned to tell you. See, we knew Stacy would go straight to you. So we had to tell you before she sorted herself out. Death can take a little time to master," she said, with a sly wink at dad.
Yes, well, he'd know.
" . . . I think I see where you're coming from." I said slowly, "And I understand so far. I really do. But HIM!!" I said, glaring for all I was worth at Nick, who was still leaning in my doorway. "Why the hell does HE get to know??" I sounded like a pouty child.
"Ah." Said Nick, "well there's the rub."
"Shut-up." I snapped, "I was talking about you, not to you."
"My apologies. Continue."
"Hijo de una perra." I muttered. (A/N: Translation: "Son of a bitch.")
"Más que usted saben." Dad said. (A/N: Translation: "More than you know.")
"Huh?" I said, "Exlain?"
"Sorry Melinda. Its nothing." Dad said, but he still looked kind of pissed off.
Mom just ignored us. That's her custom when we go off in another language. "That's a good question Melinda." She said, and looked at Nick.
"Allow me." Nick said easily. "When we first moved back here from Chicago, Dad told me I would be going to the Junipero Serra mission academy. I was delighted, naturally.He told me to watch out for the priest. Of course, I soon discovered why. When the wise old Father did find out about my . . . unique ability," Nick said with a smirk, "he was quick to help me into the life of a Carmel mediator. Some of the rules included no exorcisms without prior consultation, no fistfights, and no . . . relations with any of the undead.
"They make that a rule nowadays?" mum muttered.
Nick grinned and continued. "And as well as that I was to keep ghosts away from the pretty girl who didn't yet know what she was."
"You want to leave?" Dad said threateningly glaring at Nick.
Whoa. If looks could kill, the one dad just gave Nick would have been enough to put him 6 feet under for sure.
YAY DADDY!!!!!!!
"Jesse," said mom warningly.
"Susannah!" Dad began angrily, "That was clearly a sexually inclined—"
"Doesn't matter!" Mom cut him off. "He came and got us when he realized she was hurt, and he never breathed a word to her before time!"
"Have you forgotten whose son he is?" demanded dad.
"No I haven't." Mom looked uncomfortable. "But we can't let the past dictate the future. Its over, we shook on it, we finished high school, and he left. He accepted defeat."
"But now he's back!"
"Yes he's back! Perhaps ready to associate with others of his creed! I'm not asking you to go and throw him a welcome barbeque or anything, but don't do this. It wont end well."
"Querida, you remember what happened last time we had this argument?"
"We're not sixteen anymore. There's nothing you can do about it. He's not come anywhere us. Leave it."
"And our daughter?"
"Nick's not a Shifter. He's just a mediator. He's not him Jesse."
Dad was giving in. he didn't look too happy about it though. In fact, he looked even more irate.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" I asked.
"Melinda!" mum reprimanded, at the same time dad exploded, "Language, my girl!"
. . . Whatever.
Nick cleared his thought and continued with a grin. "Anyway. Gandalf seemed a little bothered by my surname, but I assured him Melinda wouldn't hear it from me and that seemed to pacify him."
"Mom?" I said carefully, not wanting to interrupt dad's death glaring at Nick, as golden as it was, "what's a Shifter?"
Nick shot me a look of surprise. "You mean she still doesn't know?" he asked incredulously, "Wow."
"Shut up." Mom snapped.
On three.
One.
Two.
Three.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!
YOU GOT TOLD!!!!!!!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!!!!
SUCKER!!!!!
"Melinda, there's a . . . hierarchy between those who can interact with the dead," said Mom, a little tentatively. "There's the Mediators, which is your dad, Father D, Nick and Jack, but then there's this whole other level. They're called Shifters Mel. Shifters are descendants of the ancient Egyptian shamans. That's you, Paul and myself. They cannot only interact with the dead, but also possess, other . . . talents."
"I'm listening . . . wait. This wouldn't include time travel would it?"
"Umm, yes, it would. I—"
"Wait, who are Paul and Jack? More freaks?"
Now mom looked nervous, glancing apprehensively at dad, "Umm, Jack is Nicks uncle. And er, Paul is his—Nicks—father."
Dad frowned.
"Wait, you mean to tell me, his father, and his uncle, can both talk to the dead?" I asked incredulously.
"Slow to catch on there aren't you Melinda." Nick winked.
"Was I TALKING to you?" I snapped furiously.
"My mistake." Nick said smoothly, still leaning in my doorway, causing half of his face to be thrown into the shadows. And I was determinedly telling myself I didn't care how hot those shadows made him look. He was still EVIL.
So there. Shove THAT in your pipe and smoke it!
"What else can we do?" I asked, interestedly. Maybe I'd get superhuman strength! And the ability to become invisible and create force fields! Or super-stretchiness! Or be able to conjure fire! Or—
Or maybe I've been watching fantastic Four a little too much.
Never mind me.
"We can travel up to the shadow land without exorcising ourselves, we can transfer souls, and each time we do, we lose a couple of brain cells. I don't know much about it but—"
"Talk to dad." Nick offered. "He knows heaps. He has all these thesis's by Dr Oliver Slaski, who turns out to be my late grandfather."
"Thank you Nick." Mom said politely. Too politely, if you ask me, but whatever. "You've been more than helpful, but—"
"I think your being stupid." Stacy interrupted, having decided to join the conversation.
"Umm, excuse me," I said bitchily, "Shut up, dead girl."
. . . I was still a littler snarky over the whole Slater fraternization thing.
"You might be wrong about Slater senior," she said, ignoring me. "Sure he's a arrogant and a bit of a ass, but he helped me. I couldn't go to anyone else, and he sounded genuinely worried when I said your family was in danger."
"Of course," agreed Dad, humorlessly.
"Don't take this the wrong way Mr. de Silva, but I think you're a little prejudiced. Suze is right. He's not exactly going to win any humanitarian awards, but he didn't strike me as too bad."
Dad forced a half smile. "I'm sure he was very eager to help you, once he realized whose daughter you were associated with."
"Give it a rest dad." I sighed. "Like father like son. They seem to both be assholes. Who cares? Move on and deal with the situation at hand."
Dad looked at me.
I repeated it in Spanish just in case there was any more confusion.
Mom looked at me.
Nick looked at me.
Stacy looked at me.
E-V-E-R-Y-O-N-E LOOKED AT ME.
Then Dad spoke. "Si Melinda. I apologize to you and young Stacy."
Notice how he ignored Nick?
Nice.
Mom looked happier now.
Stacy did too, now she thought we were all going to pack up and run away from her ghostie.
--Wrong, but whatever.
Nick was the only one that didn't look too pleased. But meh. Who cares about him.
"Anyway, back to what I was saying before Melinda." Nick grinned at me.
I narrowed my eyes and said, "it can wait."
"No it can't. Be careful. You might not know all there is to know about this guy. Dot let pride impair your vision. You might be missing some puzzle pieces."
"What the hell do you mean by that!" I said, "Don't be a cryptic wanker!" he ignored me, turned and made to walk out, but then paused. "Oh. One more thing," he smiled wickedly, and looked at Mom. "Dad told me to give his love to Miss Simon." And he left.
He was lucky for him he did too, or he might have found himself being thrown out the window if the murderous look on Dads face was anything to go by.
Would serve him right too.
-Legacy-
Review time now.
Love and kisses!
Mariah