then the creature driving her body leaps away. It’s hard to distinguish its sooty swirl from my starving spirits, but I track the energy; it dives from the old woman into the telephone, and I’m astonished . Is that how demons travel? If they’re energy, it stands to reason they could pass in telephone or electrical wires, right? Holy shit. It makes me want to break all my electronics, right this minute. But I’m so busy pondering the implications that I almost forget to stop the feast.
“Stop!” I call. “Don’t kill her. Restless dead, I send you from this place.”
The room chills further, and I fear they won’t listen. Part of me wonders why they heed me at all. But the ghosts withdraw in a misty blur, quick as they came. The old woman drops in a heap on the floor, amid the wreckage. With trembling hands, I turn off the radio. There’s no sign of what truly happened here, apart from her collapse and my minor injuries. How the hell can I explain this?
Good thing I’ve got a cop on speed dial, but like usual, he’s already calling me. “Shan, what the fuck ?”
“Hey. So can you please send EMTs…and I’d appreciate it if you came too. There will be questions…and I don’t know what to say.” I give him the address.
“Are you hurt?” He sounds frantic. I hear horns honking, Jesse swearing, and the screech of tires. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Sit tight. Wait, no, first get to a safe location and sit tight.” The fact that he’s repeating himself is kind of adorable.
“I’m not hurt. The ambulance is for someone else.” I kneel beside the old woman and press two fingers to her throat. “She’s alive but in bad shape.”
“Christ almighty, Shan.” He produces a string of curses that would impress me at any other time.
“I’m hanging up now. I’ll be here, and you need to focus on your driving.”
He’s still ranting when I cut the call. Sometimes I think Jesse’s not used to females like me. I sit down beside the old woman, feeling horrible and helpless, but was I supposed to let her kill me? I did the best I could. Heart heavy, I dig into my bag and produce a chocolate bar. Eating it keeps me from passing out.
Jesse arrives before the medical personnel. He runs through the shop, apparently not bothered by the aversion spell that rocked me in the front of the store. I guess if you can shake it off, you belong here. His cop instincts make him clear the room before he approaches, then he kneels beside me.
“What the hell happened here?”
I give him the nutshell version of how I remembered this place and thought visiting might help. Then I explain the woman’s weird reaction and how she went after me. He can tell by looking at her she’s been hosting for a while, as that’s not good for your health, but this account won’t satisfy the authorities.
Quickly, he searches the premises, and I watch, puzzled. “What’re you doing?”
“Quiet. I’ll deal with you later.”
Hm. I like the sound of that. So I shut up, letting him do his thing.
At last he comes back, seeming relieved. “This is a break for us. There are no security cameras, so we’ll go with an unknown assailant. Caucasian male, late twenties, brown hair, no distinguishing features.” He pauses. “That’s your report, right, Ms. Cheney?”
I see where he’s going with this. That’s too general a description to convict anyone; it applies to billions of men across the country. “Absolutely. He tore up the place and scared the clerk so bad, she had some kind of seizure. I ran away from him and called you…because we’re acquainted and I thought you might come faster than 911.” I wish I could use a stronger word to describe our relationship, but I rather doubt Jesse wants me to announce that I’d give a kidney to fuck him, especially in official documents.
The EMTs race in, just as I’m concluding this version of events. Other police officers arrive as well, and they start the inquiry.
Learning to Kill: Stories