Prologue
Kathy Gallows spins around so fast it seems as though she’s about to take flight. Laughter
bubbles up inside the seven-year old, until it finally boils over in a
cacophonous flood. Squinting from a smile so wide her face can hardly contain
it, she’s swelling with the joy that’s spilling loudly from her in all
directions. As she twirls, flowing red hair trails out behind her like a meteor
burning its way across the sky.
Her
white sundress, detailed in fine lace, twirls out at the bottom, letting her
legs experience not only the summer sun but the afternoon breeze.
Summit
Drive in nineteen fifty-two is an idyllic picture of Midwestern Americana. Better Homes and
Gardens brought to life. Every collar is
blue, every picket fence white. Pekin, Kentucky at its best.
A
voice calls to her from the front door of her house. “Kathy, it’s time to come
inside.”
Wobbling
to a stop, she giggles again and stumbles forward on unsteady legs toward her
front door. Almost meeting the grass face first after only two steps provokes
another burst of tittering laughs. Without a single worry in the world, Kathy
knows that today is a good day to be dizzy.
Stepping
through the doorway everything changes. She’s twenty, and her hair is braided
tightly against the back of her head.
She’s
in Rogers Park now, and there are goose bumps on her arms from the chill of the
Chicago winter. It’s still her house, but not the one she entered. Time has
shifted around her. She’s recently dead, already drinking blood but still living
with Sasha; that makes it nineteen sixty-five.
She
can hear the voice still calling her. It sounds as though it’s coming from the
basement where she’s not permitted to be. Only Jules and Sasha can go down
there. Working girls have to stay upstairs.
Creeping
down the hallway closer to the basement door, it’s obvious the voice is growing
more urgent.
“Kathy,
I need you to help me! Please!”
Someone
has left the door open, so she can peek through the crack ever so slightly.
Jules’
body, engulfed in flames, falls against the door. Shrieking, she jumps
backward, but not fast enough. What remains of him collapses on top of her,
burning and crumbling to ash.
All
Kathy can do is scream.
***
I jump awake in
bed, narrowly avoiding a fall to the floor. Near panic, I take stock of my
surroundings and I’m reassured that it’s 2012, and I’m in the old Masonic Lodge
where I fell asleep. Even though I know I’m safe it does little to help with
the anxiety. Lately, my dreams have become horrors, twisted visions loosely
based on my memories. I haven’t been Kathy for almost forty-eight years.
I don’t know who she
is; the voice that was calling to me. It’s been haunting my dreams for the last
month, and I’ve had more than my fill. I don’t know if my subconscious is
trying to tell me something, or if I’m just going insane, but every day, like
clockwork, there she is.
Jules gave me this
life for better or worse. He made me immortal. He made me Veronica. I am not
coping well with his death.
I just might be
going crazy.
Chapter 1
It seems so weird that there wasn’t
even a funeral. There were no services or gatherings to mark his passing.
Rituals like those are left behind when we stop breathing. Clearly, I haven’t
adjusted to that part of what I am yet, even after all these years. All I can
focus on is that the man who made me is gone. He only exists in the memories of
those who knew him. For me, his loss is still so jarringly abrupt.
It’s taken Learner
five weeks and my repeated requests to call a meeting of the Council to discuss
the events surrounding Jules’ death. You’d think five weeks would be enough
time for me to at least find some kind of acceptance of the fact that he had
passed. He hadn’t been actively involved in my life in seventeen years. Here I am,
though, still feeling like I’m in shock. I’m like a traumatized child who just
lost her only parent. Believe me, I know what that’s like. I’d already been
through it twice before Jules decided to make me, so I’m confident I can be
fair in making the comparison.
Beneath me the worn
out bedsprings groan in protest as I sit up and slowly stretch. Even if I
hadn’t had some strange woman keeping my dreams unsettling, my living
conditions wouldn’t have let me sleep well – not that I can ever sleep for
long.
At least the
windows are bricked up in this room and not just tarped over like they are in
the rest of the building. If I didn’t know better, I’d think this was a loft
apartment somewhere in a larger city than the flyspeck that is Pekin, Kentucky.
There’s a starving artist charm here; not the feel of an empty condemned
building we were squatters in.
The place really
could do with a good cleaning, though. It looks like everything was given a
good scrub down when Garrett and Sunny moved in months ago, and no one has so much
as swept since. It’s not like there are piles of garbage littering up every
room, there’s just a dingy feel to it all. It’s noticeably organized, but
without any upkeep.
Garrett’s a man
built for Spartan living, one who doesn’t seem to notice little trifles like
these. Sunny, as queen of this castle, can’t be bothered with something mundane
like occasional light dusting. Garrett still treats her like the
twelve-year-old she looks like and that only serves to keep her spoiled. All
she’s done, since she killed all the breathers that worked for them, is
constantly bitch about needing a maid.
As a guest, I’m not
sure how they’d take it if I just started tidying up. I don’t want to go all
Martha Stewart on the place or anything, but I’m afraid I might ruffle feathers
if I start moving things around to do something as simple as running a vacuum
cleaner.
The room service
hasn’t been bad, though. As usual, there’s a glass of warm red liquid waiting
for me on the table next to the bed when I wake up. Even though I rarely sleep
more than half an hour a day, and never on a regular schedule, somehow, Garrett
always seems to know when I fall asleep and makes sure I wake up feeling cared
for. Bringing the glass to my lips induces an involuntary smile.
“Mmmm…
Fresh-squeezed. Not from concentrate.” I mumble the words aloud. On some level,
I expect to hear one of my girls laugh at my odd sense of humor. I miss having
them around. I need to be back in my own house.
Frank assures me this
is the last day we’ll have to spend living on Garrett’s generosity at the old
Masonic Lodge. The Jefferson House is supposed to be ready for us to move back
in tonight, and sleep in tomorrow.
I could have gone
back to the Ranch House, but the memories there are a little too thick. I don’t
even want to look at the clothes in the closets there. I’ve been living out of
suitcases and bags for more than a month.
Clothes have always
been one of my eccentricities. They’re more important to me than they are to
most people. Not only do they carry the memories of the places they’ve been and
times they’ve seen, but they help set an emotional tone and showcase an
attitude.
Frank spoiled me
long ago by taking over all of my clothes shopping. I was resistant to him
doing it at first, but over time, I came to trust that I wouldn’t be
disappointed. Having them bought for me
also came with an unexpected bonus – the excitement of getting presents
regularly. Who doesn’t love presents? Even if they happen to be bought with
your own money, they’re still presents.
Since Frank has now
acquired my aversion to sunlight, I had to send someone else to L.A. to replace
my whole wardrobe. Piper got saddled with the task, and she more than exceeded
my expectations. While it’s true that I’ve always adored Frank’s taste in
elegant formalwear and clubbing attire, Piper’s taste trends more toward the
bitch end of the spectrum. I can appreciate that a lot, things being how they
are these days, not to mention that a completely new wardrobe has done wonders
for keeping forward momentum.
The rushing of
water in the makeshift shower set up in the next room tells me Garrett has beaten
me to the shower. It’s probably for the best. I should just wait and get
cleaned up in my own bathroom later. Something tells me that after meeting with
Learner and the Council, I’m going to need a long relaxing shower for at least
an hour. Or five.
I rub my eyes as I
cross the room to the garment bag hanging on the dark red flannel sheet serving
as a curtain that divides the room in half. Dividing the room was Garrett’s
idea. He thought giving me more privacy would make me feel more at home. While
I appreciate the sentiment, it honestly just serves to make this place look
tackier.
Pulling back the
zipper I go over each article of clothing, considering it carefully, even
though I already know what I’m going to wear. Pulling out the slinky black
number I run my hand over the fabric and ponder what memories tonight will
attach to this dress.
Hanging the dress
next to the garment bag, I take off my sweatshirt and fling it in my laundry
basket. Walking around naked in seedy places is just one of the many natural
talents that the life I’ve lived has fostered. Modesty is for sheltered young
girls with fleeting lives. I have no use for it.
Overall, Garrett’s
done his best to be a sweetheart. He’s tried so hard to make Frank and me as
comfortable as possible. I’ve had a hard time with the fact that he looks so
much like Jules, but he’s done a million little things to try to comfort me.
Julie, Leslie, and Piper are all convinced he’s in love with me – or crushing
really hard, at least. They don’t understand how different emotions seem when
viewed through the prism of a dozen lifetimes. I want to believe he cares about
me, but I keep telling myself he has to be too old for love.
I find my perfume
in the overnight bag next to the bed and spritz myself – two hundred dollars a
bottle and worth every penny. I consider a thong for a moment and then look
back at the unforgiving fabric of that dress. I’m not going to let panty lines ruin
my appearance.
The knee length
sheath dress comes off the hanger and drops over my head before I notice
Garrett standing by the bed. He’s looking at me smiling and shaking his head.
An involuntary shiver spills over me. I must have forgotten to close the
curtain... again.
He’s already
changed to meet with the Council, and he looks hot. His strategically messy
short brown hair and deceptively expensive, slightly tight-fitting suit are
impressive. There’s something about the way his perfectly toned, six-foot-three-inch
body moves though… no matter what he’s wearing. There’s just something, a
quality I can’t describe. My words could ever do him justice. He’s masculine
beautiful; not an easy thing to pull off.
He exudes a chaotic
blend of modern fashion and classic sophistication that would turn any girl
with a heartbeat into a gushing, stuttering idiot. I look back into the mirror
and begin to pull my dress down into place slowly, instinctively putting on a
show for him. I blame it on too many years in a sexual career field. You can’t
work in, or run a brothel for as many years as I have without it having some
lasting effects.
As the fabric
stretches down over me, griping me like a glove, I being to worry that the
seams will split. If it fit any tighter, I believe they would. Piper said she
thinks skin tight and black is what’s best for me right now. I don’t know if
she thinks I should look like I’m in mourning, semi-professional, or just
slutty.
Looking back toward
the bed, I find Garrett digging through a leather bag filled with antique
bobbles and trinkets. It’s a real shame dead men aren’t as impressed with tits
and ass as living ones. Everything in my life would be so much simpler if they
were.
He walks up behind
me and slips a diamond necklace over my head as I’m facing the mirror. It’s
old. Older than me. I can tell just by looking. It’s more expensive than
anything I’d normally wear to meet the vultures, but it’ll do just fine for
tonight.
I have to move
Rachel’s new chapter books off of the shoe boxes in the corner to locate the
right heels to complete my look. The books remind me how much I owe her as
well. Having a daughter to raise has kept me from dwelling too much on death,
even if she happens to be dead herself. She may be a ghost, but she’s still a
precocious eight-year-old with a voracious need for time and attention.
I’m really not
thrilled with the idea of Rachel being exposed to Sunny any more than
absolutely necessary, so Lucy has been looking after her during the day. At
least that buys me more time to try to sleep, even if I do generally just spend
the time working out elaborate plots for revenge on Paco or Learner. Besides, Sunny’s
out of control addiction to pornography, her foul mouth, and her contempt for
me are all good enough reasons to keep Rachel away from here as much as
possible.
Having Lucy for a
best friend has certainly proved invaluable. There’s nothing quite like having
a ghost sitter on call for my ghost daughter when I need her. Yeah, even for
me, life has gotten a little strange.
I strap on my heels
and examine myself in the full length mirror. Everything below the neck seems
passable – hot, if I do say so myself. I look at Garrett, and he gives me a nod
of approval. I’m not so much nervous about how things are going to go as I am
just anxious to get it over with.
“You gonna be ready
to go in twenty?” Garrett asks, stopping in the doorway and looking back at me.
“Give me twenty. My
hair needs help, and I need to paint my face.”
Tonight, I go to
war.
