Spirit of Vengeance

Last night's shabby motel could have been better, again I couldn’t sleep, but who would be able to sleep in a building rattling with more screams of pleasure than I wished to have heard? Because trust me, I certainly didn’t want to. The whore house was not far from my real home and I didn’t see the point in buying a hotel room, I couldn’t sleep and never would be able to again, so why spend so much money? But trying to sleep always made me feel better, like it felt better to eat and drink even though I couldn’t taste, but last night it just wasn’t going to happen, so instead I climbed out onto the roof of the building and lay and watched the meteor shower which had not long started when I arrived at the motel. I had completely forgotten.

Being dead had its problems, I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t feel, I couldn’t taste anything when I eat or drink, the only thing I could do was speak, see and suffer with emotions. It was like looking at life through a partially broken sheet which separated me from the world; it allowed me to see and hear the world around me and visa verse, but nothing more. Life was hell and sometimes I wondered why I even stuck around anymore.

As I headed towards my father’s favourite gym; both wanting to work out stress and to see if he was in today, but my mind kept drifting to Shadow and when I shook his hand. For a split moment I had feeling again. In that moment I could feel the warm summer breeze nipping at my skin, the warm soft touch of his skin against my own ghostly skin, I could even taste the salty air from the ocean five blocks away. It felt . . . amazing.

Reaching my destination, I pushed open the door and was greeted by Ronald, the gyms owner.

“Well isn’t it my little Zoë,” he beamed greeting me with a fist bump and a hefty hug. I hugged back just as tightly. If I could feel pain, no doubt he would be crushing me right now, and suffocating me along with it.

Ronald was a large man who stood at 6ft 5 with a bulky muscular build, short black hair, with oak brown eyes and was thirty-seven years of age. Though he seemed like a scary guy to many (though he was when he was angry) he was nothing but a big kitten.

Ronald was unaware that I was dead; all he knew was that I was living rough on the streets and working a barely stable job at a nearby supermarket, though he was unaware which one. All lies, but all lies to protect him.

I first met Ronald when I was taking a midnight stroll through the local park four months ago, when I spotted him sobbing on a park bench. Feeling sorry for him, I sat beside him and asked if he was okay.

“My sister lost her little boy to cancer,” he sniffled, wiping at his puffy red eyes with the back of his hand before looking up at me with a wobbly smile which threatened to collapse.

I sat beside him most of the night comforting him as he sobbed into my shoulder, until finally he hugged me goodbye and called a cab home to break the news to his wife. Later the next day I bumped into him at the gym my father trains at and he introduced his self fully and ever since he has treated me like his little sister for giving him the courage to tell his wife about the bad news.

“Hey Ronald, how are you doing today?” I asked when he released me from the hug.

“I’m doing fine, the wife’s still ill but she’s getting better. How are you doing? Are you still roof top jumping and sleeping wherever available?” he asked with a slight laugh to his tone.

“Yep still roof top jumping and sleeping wherever available,” I laughed. “Watched the meteor shower last night, it was pretty beautiful.”

“Ah yes, me and the little daughter watched it. She was so fascinated by it,” he smiled. “And my offer still holds about living at mine for a while, just until you get back up on your feet. Zara wouldn’t mind, she’d loved love to meet the famous little sister Zoë I always talk about.”

I shook my head. As much as I would love to take up the offer, how would I explain about me disappearing in the night to kill someone, or how will they react if they saw me fading away like I sometimes did when I was feeling down?

“As much as I would love to, I can’t Ronald, I’ll feel out of place there, let alone I probably won’t be there most of the time with business and all.”

He frowned a little, before folding his arms over his chest. “This business you’re on about, what exactly is it? You always carry a knife with you as if you’re always trying to protect yourself or is it something else?”

My eyes opened in surprise, how did he know I carried a knife with me? I never told him I did, I never told anyone for that matter.

His lips twitched up into a smile at my expression of disbelief. “What? You didn’t think I would notice did you?”

I shook my head and flinched when he reached for my waist and pulled out the small blade I kept tucked away in the waist line of my joggers, which had its own little pocket sown into the inside to sit in so it didn’t slide down my leg out of reach.

“Zoë whatever mess you have gotten yourself into, you know I can help you out. You’re like a sister to me. Carrying stuff like this around,” he held the blade before me, before quickly tucking it into his own pants pocket. “Is going to get you arrested.”

“Ronald, I can’t tell you why I am carrying it, only because it means jeopardising you and your family’s safety. I can’t risk that; I can’t risk the only family I have.”

“Please, Zoë, I beg you, tell me what is going on?” There was a pleading look in both his eyes and tone, but I could never come to terms to tell him the truth in fear of losing the only people I have left. “Please, Zoë. I know something is wrong, lately you have been working yourself way past your limits and as you do, there is rage in your eyes. Something like that isn’t hard to miss. All I ask is for an honest answer.”

I let out a sigh. What was I expected to say? Hey there, I carry a weapon everywhere with me because I’m taking down my killers, oh by the way I’m dead. Yeah like that’s ever going to happen.

“It’s complicated,” I mumbled pushing past him.

As much as I hated ignoring Ronald, or pushing him away when he offered to help me out, I just wasn’t in the mood for a questioning and answering session. Ronald was a brother to me and it hurt me gravely each time I pushed him away. There were just things I couldn’t tell him, the main thing being that I was dead.

Heading towards the running machines, I could feel someone carefully studying me from a distance, but when I stopped and turned to find the suspect, it faded. Shaking my head, I brushed it off as figment of my imagination.

Turning back towards my destination, I was greeted by a solid muscular wall. To my unwanted surprise, it was Zane, his eyes steadily drinking me in and one corner of his lips twitching as if he was trying to keep back a sly half smile, but it failed terribly. I hastily stepped back; no doubt he was here to try and convince me to pass over to the other side again.

Like me Zane stood at 5ft 8 and was fair skinned, because well like me . . . he was dead. He had annoyingly attractive emerald green eyes, brown combed back hair which was threaded with blond and a figure I just wanted to run my fingers across for pleasure. Whether he was naturally good looking before he died, I’d never know.

Zane had died in a car crash after a young child ran into the road and he swerved to avoid her, but in doing so drove straight into a river and drowned. I knew he wasn’t lying about it, I read the file he gave me to prove his good deed, but yet still with his heroic gesture he was still a complete jackass.

“Well hello beautiful,” he purred.

“Go away Zane,” I groaned, trying to hold back the gagging sound.

His smile twitched up a notch higher. “I was hoping for a nicer greeting, but I guess I’m going to have to put up with that.”

“Seriously Zane, go away,” I growled, my hands clenching and unclenching as I fought not to punch him, not that it would hurt him anyway, but I didn’t want to cause a scene.

I tried shoving past him, but he caught my waist with his arm and pulled me back to him so that my back was to his chest.

“Easy tiger, don’t want to cause a scene now do you? Why don’t you come home to where you belong and I’ll leave you alone,” he murmured into my ear as I thought against him. I could just walk right through his grasp, but that would expose me and he knew that all too well. He had me at a disadvantage.

“You already know the answer to that Zane, and you can tell that boss of yours, I’m not ever crossing over, not even if you bribed me, which you already have, twice. How does it make you feel? How does it make her feel? How does it make her feel knowing that she’s got a rouge avenging ghost on her hands?” I questioned smugly, a sense of victory in my voice knowing I’m pissing of a very high ranking angel.

Zane laughed harshly down my ear. It was an unpleasant sound and I struggled not to just disappear from his grasp like I normally would when we wasn’t in a populated area.

“You’re not the only rouge ghost she’s got who doesn’t want to come home, but you’re the only rouge ghost she’s got a big problem with, the others she’s knows will cross over eventually with a little shove as you may call it, but you, you are something special.”

“How? I’m just like anyone else who wants revenge,” I growled through gritted teeth. “What’s so special about me?”

“Now why I’m I going to spill the big secret knowing that you’ll never cross over when you find out,” he whispered smugly into my ear. “And plus you’re a bigger bitch than she is,” he added. I knew he had a smug smile on his face without even looking at him.

“How dare you, you godforsaken a-” my words of fury was cut off by the wall of Zane’s hand.

"Easy now tiger, like I said, don't want you causing a scene now do we? Especially while your friend Ronald’s watching. Now I'm going to remove my hand and you're not going to say a word, understand?" It was more of a threatening command than a question.

Letting out a rough agitated sigh and a nod, I gave up fighting against him and relaxed. At the corner of my eye I saw Ronald steadily watching us, as if ready to pounce if anything kicked off. No doubt he’d be on my side of course.

“Good girl,” he purred his hand dropping from my mouth to my waist. If I could feel his touch, no doubt I would shudder in disgust.

Are you okay? Is he bothering you? Ronald mouthed when he knew I was glancing at him once more.

I shook my head. I’m okay, nothing to worry about, just playing about, I responded, forcing a smile to make it seem genuine, but the look on his face told me he didn’t believe me one bit. After a moment’s hesitation to come over, he shook his head and resumed back to greeting new customers to his gym.

Twisting out of Zane’s grip to face him I asked, “I need to ask you something and I want you to tell it to me straight, understand?”

Telling Zane I was able to feel again was the most stupidest thing I could ever do, he’d think I’m insane and laugh in my face if I told him that just a moment I could feel again, another excuse he could use to make me cross over, but I needed to know if being able to feel fully again or feel at all even for a moment was even possible.

Zane’s face clouded with confusion, before he said, “Go ahead.”

“Can we . . . can we ever feel physically again?” I asked biting down on my lip nervously.

Zane’s face softened all of a sudden and pain flickered in his eyes as he sadly shook his head. “No, I don’t think we ever can. If there was a way, I haven’t heard it yet and even if there was, we would all know by now.”

I sighed, he wasn’t lying and he seemed generally sincere about it. So if I was never able to feel again, why was I able to feel for a split moment last night? Why was it when I shook Shadows hand my world felt complete? What was it about him that made me feel again in this one meeting?

“You should know this by now. Oh wait! No you wouldn’t because you’re here and not where you belong,” Zane said sarcastically resuming back to his usual ways.

“Oh go to hell Zane,” I hissed, but it lacked effort as I was too distracted in thought.

“Bitch,” he responded as he headed towards the exit.

“Jackass,” I called back.

“We’ll get you to cross someday Zoë; you’ll join us no matter what it takes.”

“Tell that boss of yours, if she wants me so desperately, instead of sending incompetent fools, why doesn’t she come and fetch me herself if she wants me to cross so badly.”

Zane paused at the desk as he paid Ronald, who was eyeing him unsteadily, a slight frown creasing his forehead. Zane turned towards me as he placed twenty dollars down, a menacing smile pinching at the corner of his lips.

“Oh she will . . . eventually,” he said in a low dark tone, a tone which made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up on end.

Before I could reply, he disappeared out the door, leaving me with an unsettled empty feeling in the pits of my stomach. For the past six months Zane has been constantly popping up out the blue, constantly trying to draw me to the other side with lies of seduction, fake promises and just plain trying to drag me there, but no matter what Zane threw at me, I still wouldn’t cross. I want crossing until the day I watched the last of my murders’ die.

Now that I stand here looking after Zane, his departing words still echoing through my brain, I feared there was something more too why they wanted me to cross so badly, but what and why exactly? Could this be related to last night’s greeting with Shadow and what accrued when I shook his hand? Not that he could have known, but you never knew around here, there was always someone watch you. Or was it something else entirely?

Looking at my watch, I determined whether it was possible to visit my mother's grave. It was eleven am which meant the grave yard was just closing while the guard took his two hour dinner break.

As I passed Ronald towards the door, he caught my arm and pulled me back to stand before him.

“Not so fast missy, where do you think you are going?” he asked in a tone which told me he weren’t pleased.

“To visit someone,” I said keeping my head low to avoid his glare.

“I don’t believe you. You’re going after that guy aren’t you? Who is he?”

“An ex-boyfriend,” I lied. “He was trying to convince me to go back out of me, but I told him no, no matter how many times he told me he loved me.”

Ronald considered my words, but I knew he could see right through my lies. A moment later he shook his head in disbelief. “I’m sorry Zoë, I just can’t seem to believe you; I really can’t. If you’re going after this guy, then let me deal with him, I’ll talk some sense into him to leave you alone.”

Slowly I clenched and unclenched my fists and lifted my eyes level with his. “I’m not going after anyone, Ronald. I’m just going to visit someone,” I said sternly, a daring look in my eyes, threatening him to ask me more questions, but he didn’t acknowledge it. “Don’t believe me? Here take these.”

I headed behind his desk, before crouching down and rolling up the legs of my joggers, just enough to reveal two small blades attached to the lower of my leg, one on either side. I slid them out of their hold and slammed them on the desk side.

Ronald’s eyes widened in shock and before he could say a word, I slipped past him and quickly out the door towards my bike. As I slipped on my helmet, started the engine and kicked of the stand as quickly as I could. I could hear Ronald call my name over the sound of the engine. When I glanced back he was heading towards me and before he could reach me I pushed off and sped away.

The Grave Yard

Kneeling before my mother’s grave, I summand her to my side for the fourth time. I had parked my bike a block down the road, before walking effortlessly through the locked cemetery gates, gates which desperately needed repair after suffering through many weathering’s and other various things. As I passed through, I made myself look more presentable, knowing my mother didn’t approve of my leather spy look. She believes it doesn’t suit me, but I knew it was about something else.

“Hey Honey,” my mother said softly from beside me.

“Hey mom,” I smiled standing up to embedded myself into her hug.

“Are you okay Honey, you seem a little tense?” she asked as she stroked my hair in that automatic movement of hers when she thought something was wrong, as my head rested on her chest.

“I just miss you, dad, Lilly, and Rose, that’s all.”

“Zoë,” my mother said in that stern but calm way of hers when we didn’t tell the truth.

I sighed and pushed myself from her grasp, before sitting on my own headstone besides hers. Telling my mother about my problems was always a struggle, but she was the only one I could truly turn to, dead or not. No matter how bad my problem was, she would always listen to me and would consider whether she had the answer or not.

“I met a guy last night,” I sighed.

“A guy,” my mother beamed. “What’s his name? Where’s he from? What does he look like? How old is he? Does he know what you are? Does he love you for your personality or your looks? Where did you meet? How did you meet? Do you like him?”

The sudden burst of jumbled questions startled me and couldn’t help but laugh at her breathless state after, even though no doubt she had a dozen more.

“Mom, it’s nothing major,” I said through my laughter. “I just accidently bumped into him on the way to check up on Lilly and Dad.” No need to tell her the real truth of how we met since she the hated my idea of revenge, but accepted she couldn’t stop me.

“Well that isn’t romantic,” my mother said less eagerly now. “I thought you might have met on the park or something, but since you don’t get around so much, I got my hopes a little too high.” She sighed.

She was like that; she would always get her hopes up high before she heard what we’d have to say, and then would be sad when it was nothing exciting.

“Mom, I’m dead, walks in the park are not the same anymore and plus I have other occupations.”

“Yes, don’t I know it,” she grumbled.

I rolled my eyes, ignoring her displeased mumble and continued, “Anyway if you want to know, he’s a bit older, with shaggy black hair which was hint with the slightest tint of dark electric blue, which I must say looks pretty awesome. He has ocean of blue and green eyes, which like my own are speckled with violet, which creeps me out a bit.”

“Hmm, he sounds like a trouble maker,” my mother mused.

“He is and a total jerk with it, but that wasn’t what the problem is, when I . . .” I paused trying to put in the best way she could understand. “Let’s just say when I bumped into him, for a split moment of us touching, I could feel and taste physically again, but when we weren’t, I could no longer feel again.”

My mother’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Well in all my years of being dead, I’ve never heard that happen before,” she said a moment later.

“This is why I came here; I wanted to know if you could get some information for me about the possibilities of regaining physical taste and feeling again, or at least if not that, something on why and how this were even possible.”

“I can see what I can do. Anything else Honey?”

I shook my head, but there were a lot more things I wanted to talk about, but I really didn’t want to talk about with my mother. A little sigh escaped my lips. Hopefully my mother didn’t notice, but I though wrong.

“There’s more isn’t there?” my mother asked as she placed her hand on my shoulder.

“I had an argument with Ronald.”

“Why, Honey?”

“Because he realized that something was wrong with me and he noticed that I was carrying weaponry around with me. He told me that whatever or whoever I was trying to protect myself from, he would take care of it, but I just couldn’t come to terms with telling him the real reason I carry them.”

I dropped my head in shame. “I don’t like keeping secrets from Ronald, he took me in when no one else did; treated me like I was his sister. Ronald is all the family I have at the moment, but I just can’t tell him the truth about me. He’ll freak.”

“Zoë Grace White, didn’t I warn you about carrying weaponry around with you!” She yelped, using my full name.

My head dipped lower in shame, my shoulders rising and falling in a small ‘I don’t know’ shrug, but I knew all too well that she had warned me several times. The last time I was caught with anything, it was a gun, which fallen from its hidden hold, as I bent down to help an old woman carry her shopping to the car one evening. I was cuffed, hauled in to jail overnight, which to their surprise in the morning I was no longer there.

My mother sighed. “He’s going to find out the truth soon, Honey. You’re going to have to tell him someday before he finds out through someone else, or even worse, sees you do something no human can. If he sees you as a sister, he will understand.”

“Swear mom?” I asked holding out my pinkie. It was our way of keeping promises, secrets and many other things.

She hooked her pinkie with mine. “I swear,” she smiled, before kissing our locked fingers, our way of sealing the promises.

“Anything else?” my mother asked once again. “And this time I don’t want you to keep anything to yourself. You know I can tell when something’s up and eventually I’ll find out.”

Here it was the one thing I was dreading to tell my mother; my greeting with Zane and his forcing to make me cross over. She always took Zane’s side; it was the one thing I hated when I had this talk with her. You’ll have to cross over someday, we all have to, she would always say. She was right, we did have to, but I wasn’t just yet.

The only problem was my mother disliked Zane; she always found him so full of his self. The first time she met him is when he followed me to the grave yard, and unaware I called my mother to my side, that’s when he invaded my privacy and introduced his self to my mother. After he finally left, my mother smiled grimly and said ‘That boy is so how full of himself, how do you cope with him?’ I replied, ‘I don’t.’

“It’s nothing to worry about mom; I just had a running with Zane going on with his self per usual. He can’t seem to register through that thick skull of his that never, no and go away means.”

My mother folded her arms and shook her head in annoyance. “That boy is really starting to bug me, but I understand why he won’t listen to you. He has a valid point about crossing over. You’ll have to cross over someday, we all have to.”

“Mother,” I warned in surprise, using the formal name I use when I was displeased with her. “You’re supposed to be on my side, you know I won’t come over until I have finished my mission.”

My mother sighed and sat down beside me on her own grave. She wasn’t happy about my so called mission of revenge and my refusal to cross over until I was finished. It wasn’t my fault my revenge was taking so long.

“You know I don’t approve of you killing for revenge, it’s inhumane and it’s not like you. I brought you up to forgive the actions of others, no matter how bad that maybe,” my mother said sternly. “Forgiveness is the key to a clear mind and a new start.”

“How can I forgive someone who has killed me mom?” I wailed. Why wouldn’t she understand? “They beat me to death for no reason? How can you expect me to forgive and forget?”

My Mother sighed, I sigh which told me she was deciding to give up on me or not. I felt sorry for her. She didn’t deserve this, she should have been resting in peace and yet here I am dumping all my problems on her. She didn’t deserve me as a daughter.

The silence between us was heart throbbing and I could see my mother wanting to cry. My own eye’s glassed over and I felt my heart shatter into a thousand little glass pieces. Not wanting to be buried in silence any longer I broke it.

“I-I . . . I got to go,” I stammered pushing up from the grave stone. “I’m going to get myself a fine on my bike if I leave it to long where I’ve parked.” I forced a fake smile and laughed to make it seem funny, but my laughed lacked humour. I bit down on my lip in shame.

It was the first time I had really upset my mother in years. I didn’t mean to, I didn’t want to upset her but a part of me wanted me to make her pay for not understanding me. Some things were just too hard to forgive and forget, and this was defiantly one of them.

“Oh . . . okay Honey.” My mother smiled, but like my laugh, it lacked effort.

“Love you mom. I miss you so much,” I whispered hugging my mother tightly. “Bye mom.”

“I love you to Honey. I miss you and your father and sister millions. And please please please keep an eye out on your father and sister,” she whispered into my hair as she kissed the top of my head. “Bye Honey.”

I let my mom go and turned to walk away down the path, when I heard my mother call, “Happy birthday for tomorrow, and please Zoë, stop this crusade of revenge and come home, or if not that . . . take a break at least, you’ve been at this for six months. Live a little, Honey, before they manage to cross you over. You have a chance to live again, but you’re deciding to waste that away on revenge. ”

I stopped and turned. “I-I can’t mom. I’m sorry, but I really can’t.”

She bowed her head, but enough so that I could see the pained look in her eyes still as she drifted away back to wherever the other side was, but within her pained eyes there was something dark, something she seemed to fear. They seemed to want to tell me the truth about something, but were unable to find the courage to.

Was she hiding something from me?

Of course not . . . she wouldn’t . . . would she?