The Truth Collector (8 page)

“Save it,” she said, smoking again. “You need to listen to what I have to say. Listen close – if you want to make it in this world or the next. Understand?”

Malcolm's legs began to shake. He lost his balance and nearly fell over. Things got a little better when he lay down on the strand again, and Paul followed suit. But then the hollow woman stood above them… and she was speaking.

“I appreciate you not making too big of a scene about my… condition.” She looked around the strand and her shoulders sagged. “Most people don't react well. Anyway, that thing that was after you – that man – he was demon marked. I'm afraid you're in terrible danger.”

“Demon marked?” Paul said.

Malcolm kept his mouth shut. A few days ago he would have told her to take her new age bullshit elsewhere. But now, after the things he saw…

“Demon marked,” the woman said. “That glowing symbol on the side of his face. Every demon has their mark. I wager ours is a card-playing man. He doesn't seem like much of a gardener.”

“Wait,” Malcolm said. He sat up and held his stomach to fight off a wave of nausea. “How do you know it was a… demon? And why not a female?”

She flicked away a chunk of cigarette ash. “I said to save your questions. But I'm not entirely sure. The presence just felt masculine. You stick around long enough, and you start to pick up on these things.”

“Tell us more,” Paul said. “Please.”

The woman nodded. “I will. But you probably won't like it.”

“Why?” said Malcolm.

“That demon isn't done with you. I can't overpower it, but I can hide you from it for a while. I won't stop until I find Nora and bring her back. You're going to help me.”

Malcolm and Paul looked at each other to see who would make the first move. Neither one did.

“Come on,” the woman said, motioning for them to stand. “I know a place just up the strand. We can get more privacy there. And hopefully find you some clothes.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

She led them down the strand, pointing out sharp rocks and glass along the way. Malcolm and Paul followed her to a makeshift fishing pier of planks and boxes and crates. Once she made sure it was empty, the woman led them beneath the pier. She huddled under the support beams in the gap below the pier before it jutted out into the water. Malcolm and Paul sat down in the secret cave, drained of energy and blood from the walk.

“Everyone comfortable?” she said, dropping one cigarette and lighting another just a few seconds later.

They nodded.

“Let me start at the beginning. My name's Charlotte Fontaine. Everyone always called me 'Charlotte Fountain,' but you know how people are with French names. I guess I could have picked a new one after I died, but I like the one my mother gave me so I'm sticking with it.”

Paul stood up and nearly banged his head on the pier. “
Died
?”

“That's right,” she said. “It was the damn train that did it. I was young and stupid. And very much in love. That might explain the stupid part.”

Malcolm reached for her. He had to feel her – to make sure she was still solid. She kicked away his hand when it found her ankle.

“Did it hurt?” Paul said. “Sorry. Forget I asked that.”

Charlotte shrugged. “Not at all. I didn't feel a thing. But I guess that's what happens when you're playing around on the train tracks drunk. Okay. I wasn't really playing around. But I was playing house with a man who'd never be mine.” She squinted at the water like the memory was floating somewhere out there, sealed in a bottle for freshness.

“When did this happen?” Malcolm said.

Charlotte looked at him. There were tears in her eyes when she spoke. “A long time ago. Over one hundred years I think. It gets harder to remember as time goes on. Long enough ago where a woman pursuing a man out of wedlock – a
married
man, at that – made my mother and father want to send me off to a convent.”

Paul held his arms across his chest, shivering when the wind kissed his bare skin. “All that time passed… and you're still here. Is that what happens when you die? You just get stuck in the cracks – and the world moves on?”

Charlotte reached out and touched his arm. “Not at all. And don't let your mind go wandering or you'll drive yourself mad. Most people make it safely across to the other side. Where it's peaceful. But there are others like me – I see them wandering from time to time – though it's been years since I've come across one. We're the leftovers. The ones who died in transition. Stuck between the lines or tracks or other things.” Her brown eyes flashed, and she leaned forward and grabbed them both by the hand. “Now we're stuck between worlds – between this life and the next.”

Malcolm pulled his trembling hand free. “What happened to the man you loved? The married one.”

Charlotte lowered her head and began to kick at the little piles of loose dirt beneath the pier. “He 'came to his senses.' That's how he put it. He said he wasn't going to leave his wife and child and run off like we'd talked about. We'd had too much to drink that night – there was always too much to drink – and he told me he was going to make something of himself. He wouldn't leave his wife. We fought while he drove us back to Lemhaven. I begged and pleaded until there wasn't a shred of my dignity left. Then I made him stop and let me out of the car.”

“You were walking home?” said Malcolm.

“I was just walking away from him. Crying so hard I could hardly see. But then I found the train tracks. It was nice there – quiet. Until the horn and the lights. My shoe got stuck...” She shivered. “And it was too late. The last thing I saw was the conductor's face. I wonder who looked more horrified – me or that bleary-eyed man with a beard and his arms flying around inside the locomotive.”

Malcolm opened his mouth and shut it again. There wasn't anything to say.

Charlotte looked them over and smiled. “It's okay. I'm over the dying part. I mean, it happens to us all so why make sour grapes? It's what happened after the dying that I still feel awful about. That's where I need your help.”

“The girl,” said Malcolm. “You've probably seen millions of them born, grow up, and die. Why's this one so special?”

Charlotte took a drag from her cigarette, dumped the stub that remained, and watched it burn itself out on the ground. “Her mother was special to me too. And her mother before that. That girl is John Dixon's great-granddaughter. I don't keep track of the years anymore. Just generations. That family tree is the only thing I have left. And now someone's trying to cut off its last branches.”

“You had a kid with him?” said Paul. “With John?”

Charlotte smiled. “I
wished. N
o, I didn't have a child with him. But his wife did. He didn't even come to my funeral. Can you imagine that? Being stuck in the middle while everyone cried and paid their respects? Everyone but the one man whose grief and sorrow you needed to see to know that at least you mattered. At least he missed you.” She cleared her throat and reached for another cigarette, but the pack in her dress was empty. “But of course that didn't happen. He couldn't go without his wife wondering. People would have asked questions. So he buried his head in a bottle of Scotch while the years ticked on.”

“You were angry,” said Malcolm.

Charlotte nodded. “
Furious
. For years I watched them. They had the family I wanted but would never have. I blamed her, him, and even myself. Here I was stuck between two worlds… and everyone just moved on.”

“I'm… sorry,” Paul said. He snapped his mouth shut as soon as he said it. But the words were already out.

She smiled at him, tears covering her face. “Me too. John was a little mad after I died. I spent the next few years pushing him over the edge.”

“What do you mean?” said Malcolm.

Charlotte shrugged. “It was easy enough. I started out visiting him in his dreams. Every night I tormented him – until there was nothing left for him except to drink coffee and pray he'd stay awake. Then I got bolder. Calling his name, revealing myself to him in broad daylight, rearranging his things to remind him of me.

“I watched him disintegrate. I'd be lying if I said I didn't take joy in it. He rejected my love, and I wanted him to feel the pain I felt. They sent him to an institution – that's all they could think to do in those days. I stopped bothering him after I found out he'd killed one of the orderlies, but by then it was too late. There was too much momentum. Six months later he was dead at his own hand. I saw what happened – what I did to that family for my love gone bad – and I haven't been able to forgive myself ever since.”

Malcolm felt his face, tapped his toes to make sure he hadn't slipped off into one of those other worlds she talked about. “You wanted to protect the girl. To make up for what you did in some small way.”

“That's right,” she said. “I know I could never undo what was done, but the least I could do was watch over that family. For generations I watched, pushed children out of the way of cars and dumped pills down sewers when one of them became an addict. I was still stuck, but at least I had a purpose.” She looked up and down the strand. “I failed the girl's mother and father —”

“Why?” Malcolm said. “Why didn't you do something if you care so much?”

Charlotte's tears flowed freely now. “I picked a bad time to visit an old – to visit John's grave. But I'm not sure there's anything I could have done. Whatever killed them is far more powerful than I am. I failed the mother and father, but I haven't finished with the girl. Not yet.”

Malcolm tensed. “
You
were the one crying at the house. You were there with us. When it was already too late.”

She nodded.

“Now you want us to find her,” said Paul, leaning back against the loose dirt.

“Yes. That's my price. For protecting you from the demon.”

Malcolm stared at her. The longer he looked the more ethereal she became. He blinked and she blended into the water behind her, wispy as the smoke from her cigarettes. But when he blinked again she was solid. “What if we refuse?”

Charlotte shrugged. “I could make your life a living hell, you know.”

“I don't think you would.”

“I swore off interfering with others' affairs after – what happened with John. But I can make an exception for you if that's what it takes to protect Nora.” She turned to Paul. “You seem like the sensible one. Maybe you'll listen to reason. I don't need to make your lives a living hell because you've already done a good job of that all on your own. Am I right?”

Malcolm leaned forward. “How do you know about that?”

“He's coming for you,” Charlotte said. “That sheriff. He isn't a goodhearted man, but he's an ambitious one. He'll find you and what happens next? Prison?”

Paul shook his head. “We have to tell them, Malcolm. That tape's gone and so is Fielder. We don't have any other choice.”

Charlotte grabbed their hands again. “There's something much bigger going on here. I've seen the demon myself. I haven't come across anything half as powerful. There's a reason why he took Nora – why he wants her. Something is sweeping our stories together. Let me protect you. Pay my price.”

“How?” said Paul.

“Go where I can't go. Go to the world where she's lost and bring her home safe. I can take you.”

“Where?” said
Malcolm. “Stop speaking in riddles.”

“I can see her,” Charlotte said. She closed her eyes. “I can see her right now. She's lost. Something is chipping away at her will to live. Once that will is gone it doesn't matter where she is. There's no coming back.”

“You want us to go into another world?” said Malcolm.

She nodded. “There and back again with the girl. I can't trust anyone else. No one else has your same motivation.”

Paul shook his head slowly, like all the pieces would fall into place if he could just take them out and examine them one at a time. But his face remained a mask of confusion. “Where did Fielder take her?”

“
He
didn't. Not the man you spoke to on the strand, but the thing that's wearing his skin like a pair of clothes. Nora is just one piece in whatever game he's playing. There will be others like her – if there aren't already.”

Malcolm grabbed her by the wrist. It was strange before – how his fingers slipped right through it. But now it only felt delicate. “If you want us to help bring the girl back you need to tell us everything you know. You might not care about not dying anymore, but it's still at the top of my priority list.”

Charlotte pulled herself closer to him – so close she could have kissed his lips if she just stood on her tiptoes. “I know where the gates are. Little spots strewn across the earth where people can slip between the worlds. You just have to know where to look. Well, me and the people like me – people who died in transition – do. I can get you down to the river where souls travel. The river that divides the different worlds.”

Malcolm squeezed her wrist to steady himself. “You know where these things – these gates – are, but you can't go down there yourself?”

Charlotte nodded. “That's right. My lot is to be stuck between. I can find them and take you there, but I can't travel between them on my own.”

“But you can take people across,” Paul said. “And bring them back.”

“That's right. Whatever has its hooks in that man, Fielder, must have someone helping him cross back and forth.”

“Have you ever done this before?” said Paul.

Charlotte bit her lip. “I never had a good reason to. I didn't want to interfere with forces much more powerful than I am. And what's the point of bringing someone back who's already resting peacefully in the beyond? But this is different...”

“Because she's still alive,” said Malcolm. “Because you can see her down there.”

“Yes.” Her fingers crawled over the empty pack of cigarettes. “I've marked the girl. Long ago, when she was still a baby in her crib. Not so different from how that man Fielder was marked. As long as Nora breathes I can see her. Please. Don't let me fail her. She's the last one.”

Paul shook his head. “Do you have any idea how insane this sounds?”

The woman shrugged. “I thought there wouldn't be many surprises left after you saw a demon slip into a man's body and use it to fling you into the ocean.”

“Time,” Malcolm said. “We need some time to think about this.”

Paul nodded. “I'm with him.”

Charlotte let out a long sigh “The most precious commodity… until you realize that's all you have left. I'll be around, but don't make the mistake of not deciding. That demon
will
come back, and when he does…” She reached out, squeezed their hands, and fixed her face so there wasn't a hint of emotion on it.

Then she disappeared.

Paul gasped, and Malcolm reached into the empty space where a woman had been. They stood there open-mouthed, eyes darting up and down the strand. Something warm ran through Malcolm's hair and tickled his scalp. Sturdier than the wind, and more comforting too.

A woman's touch.

“Whisper my name when you decide,” said a voice. Her voice. “Pay my price. Before it's too late.”