What Haunts Me (11 page)

“He knew your mother. You should speak with your father, dear. I believe he can explain it to you.”

Did she know him? My brows creased in sudden suspicion and I said, “Justine, do you know my dad? Did you know about all of this before…before it started?” I was suddenly short of breath—could she have betrayed me by not telling me?

“No, no, dear, it isn't like that.” She squeezed my hand reassuringly. “My cousin kept more than one diary…the one I found in her apartment, and another that she had left behind in Switzerland in Anne's care. Billy asked Anne to hold onto it and if anything happened to her, she was to come to me and tell me everything. You see, dear, I didn't know about the extent of her power until after she was dead, until Anne arrived, gave me the diary, and then filled in the rest of what they had learned together. The institution remained open for a few more years, and Anne was locked up until she was in her early twenties, but when it was shut down, all of the residents were sent out on their own. Anne didn't have the money or resources to make it to San Francisco until much later, and by then Billy was dead.

“The diary from Switzerland spoke of a young American girl, younger than Billy by several years. The girl was extraordinarily powerful and Frederick suspected this. My cousin didn't go into detail, but said that one evening there was a ruckus and she thought she heard guns being fired and screaming, even though all the residents were locked in their rooms by then. But the next day, the girl was gone. She never found out what happened, but several staff members were rumored to be dead. Billy had also mentioned the girl in the diary I found in her apartment, but I didn't recall ever meeting such a person, so I dismissed it. When I read the reference to the girl in the Switzerland diary, I realized they were the same person. My cousin tells of reuniting with this girl…she was a woman by then, of course.” Justine smiled. “They met by accident here in San Francisco and recognized each other. The girl had become a nurse and had been working at St. Francis Hospital. When Billy was brought to the hospital for one of her episodes, they met again. Billy warned her about Frederick being so near, and the woman disappeared.”

Justine took both her hands and covered mine, and said, “Dear, it cannot be a coincidence. This power you have is hereditary—we know that much—and this woman would have been your mother's age…and you told me yourself that your mother was a nurse. Once Frederick discovered you he would have searched your background, and I believe he has come to the same conclusion that I have.”

I remembered studying the history of California as a kid in school and discussing it with my mom. We talked a lot about San Francisco. It was a fascinating town from a historical perspective, and I remember my mom saying that she had lived there briefly. I'd forgotten all about that conversation until just now. I supposed it was one of those memories that stayed locked up until I needed it, and the need to know that Justine was telling the truth jarred it free. I nodded my head. I didn't think I could deny what she was saying, at least not until I talked to my dad.

“You know that I am very wealthy, dear, and I will do what must be done to allow you and Billy to seek refuge somewhere that Frederick cannot find you. Billy has made many connections over the years, and is rather seasoned at this…,” Justine waved her hand around, “ghost killing business. She can guide you, and together you will be fine, and you will figure out how to get your lives back.” She smiled at me and I saw a determination that told me I had no choice in the matter. “Now, go home and call your father, dear.”

I leaned over and kissed Justine on the cheek, then got up and walked toward the front door. Before I had my hand on the doorknob, Billy spoke quietly from behind me. “Hey. Are you going to call your dad?”

I turned and looked at her. “You knew all this stuff all along?” I wasn't mad, I was just confused and exhausted and scared.

She fidgeted for a second, then said, “Yes. Well, no…listen, why don't we take a drive, get something to eat, and let your head clear a little before you make that call?”

I wasn't ready to face my dad yet, and although I firmly believed a person could live on Anne's cookies alone, it was probably a good idea to get out of there for a while and indulge in a proper meal. “Sure. I need to grab a jacket. I'll meet you in the hallway.”

We drove in silence, while I had my head back and my eyes closed. It was now mid-afternoon and I was aware of the sun on my face, so I knew we were headed west; otherwise, I had no idea where we were going, and in all honesty, I didn't care. When the car finally stopped for good, I opened my eyes to find myself in the public parking lot across from the Sutro Baths and Louis' Restaurant. I wasn't sure I was ready for a place that was normally as crowded as Louis', but when I looked around the lot I realized it was virtually empty, which probably meant the restaurant was too.

Louis' had been around since the late 1930's and had been owned and operated by the same family since the day it opened its doors. It was one of those San Francisco icons, loved by locals and tourists alike. As Billy asked for a corner table overlooking the ocean, I scanned some of the pictures that adorned the walls; they reflected the history and the people that had made the restaurant what it was. The few patrons in the place were seated at the counter and seemed to be regulars; they hardly acknowledged us, but the ghost lingering in the corner did. She was wearing a dress from the late 1940s; it looked to be the same one she had worn in one of the pictures I'd just looked at. I smiled at her and tipped my head in a gentle acknowledgment. She wasn't haunting anyone that I could see and I didn't intend to chase her down, but she seemed a little worried and vanished through the nearest wall. As soon as we were seated Billy ordered two beers and steak and eggs for both of us. She didn't ask me if that's what I wanted, but I was okay with her choice. I wasn't sure I could concentrate enough on the menu to make my own decision anyway.

I stared out the window and watched the ferocious waters of the Pacific attack what was left of the Sutro Bath buildings, now nothing more than decaying sea walls and foundations. The beers arrived and I reached for mine without taking my eyes off the vista. Finally I said, “Justine said you were good at this 'ghost killing business,' as she put it. What did she mean?”

Billy's tone was so casual that you would have thought she was talking about nothing more sinister or serious than the weather on a sunny day. “People like you and me—you especially—are rare. Most ghost killers can keep up with their own regions. They manage to have regular lives and clean up the ghosts as they come upon them, but sometimes they're confronted with a demon so powerful that they need to call in outside help, and that's where I come in. When the call comes, I go, I find the monster, and I eradicate it. Sometimes I even get paid for my troubles.” She shrugged. “Other times they don't even know I was there until it's over.” I didn't quite understand, but I thought if she kept talking I might, so I waved my hand in a continuing motion.

“Here's an example: a ghost killer from New Zealand, who's also a policeman, thinks he's come across a particularly mean demon. His normal beat was in a run-down neighborhood and he liked that, because as you know, those areas are rife with bad ghosts…I think it's the degenerative quality of life, but whatever.” Her hand fluttered dismissively. “So one day, this cop/ghost killer realizes that the body count is getting pretty high, and not only that, they're dropping almost every week. He suspects there must be a pretty nasty ghost in his midst, but he isn't strong enough to see it, let alone catch it, so he puts the call out for another ghost killer who's a few levels up to help out.” She pointed to herself. “The ghost in question is super strong, probably one of the strongest I've ever encountered. Anyway, I hunt it down, I kill it, and
voila
, things go back to normal. And because this cop happened to be the son of a city official, who was also a ghost killer, they found some money to pay me for my troubles.” She smiled satisfactorily.

Was I supposed to believe that Billy was some kind of super hero ghost killer that travelled the world? Well, why not? After all, the last six weeks of my life had turned me upside down. The last forty-eight hours had revealed a world that under all circumstances shouldn't even exist, but I knew it did because I felt it, saw it, and was living it.

“How?”

“How what, George?” The mischievous look in her eyes told me that she knew exactly what I was asking. But instead of snapping at her, I sat silently, waiting for her to give in and answer the question. Finally she did. “The Watchers set it up, the whole network thing that we communicate through. You know those online video games, the ones where hundreds of people can play at the same time? We use a platform like that. You have a player and you log in like you're actually going to play the game, then you check your message board. If someone needs your help, or if they just want to get in touch, they post a message that would look like 'game' banter to anyone else, but tells the community, or a particular ghost killer, what's needed or wanted. I'm independent and I don't need money from the Watchers, but others are paid by them, or like the New Zealand case, by the locals.” She lifted one shoulder indifferently. “Simple really.”

Of course it was simple. Why should getting in touch with a paranormal killer be difficult in this day and age? “I see.” I drank the rest of my beer and the waitress showed up with the food. We ate, and when I was done, I pushed my plate aside, wiped my mouth, motioned the waitress for another beer, and leaned back in my seat.

When the beer arrived I drank half of it at once, choked back what was going to be a really loud belch, and then asked my next question. “How do they…become like that? I mean, if all the dead people in the world, over all of time, became ghosts that haunted people, then everyone would always be sick or deformed or something. So, there must be a selection process, right?” As I mentioned earlier, most of last night's events had eluded me, including my revelation about the kind of people our bad ghosts had been in real life. Now it all came back to me, but I decided to see what Billy thought before I tossed out my theory.

She finished the last of her steak and leaned back. “Don't know, George. But think about it…the ghosts we see are always wearing out of date clothing, right? Which means, they must have died twenty plus years ago at the least. And I don't know about you, but they've never talked to me, not verbally that is. Once in a while one will have an expression on its face, or make some hand motions, but it's not discernible per se.” She shrugged it off.

“I think most of them were super bad people before they died, and this is their purgatory or whatever you want to call it. No one up there,” I pointed up toward the heavens, then down to the floor, “or down there, wants them, so this is what they become. I also think some of them want us to kill them. They're not actually bad and they don't want to hurt people; they're just stuck here and don't know how to move on.”

She cocked her head, took a long drink of her beer, then said, “I sort of like that theory.”

We remained silent for a while, drinking our beers and watching the ocean. It gave me time to think, and finally I said, “You said you learned how to communicate with them, and that's how you escaped from Germany.”

“Right.” She said, and then drained her beer before continuing. “What I didn't tell you was how I communicated with it.”

“Think now might be a good time, Billy?” My tone was cool and calm.

“When I saw him, I gave him a minute to realize what I was. That's a no-no, because if you give them that little bit of time, they'll split on you and you may not be able to catch them. I locked eyes with him, then angled my head in the direction of my babysitter and drew my hand across my throat. Now don't get me wrong, I didn't think he'd interpret that as a license to kill her. Maybe he didn't, maybe that was an accident…but I doubt it. In retrospect, I think he was a pretty mean one. Anyway, that's how he knew I wanted to be rid of her.”

I was aware that all of this was a lot to take in, and perhaps for a normal person, who I no longer considered myself to be, it might have been hard to digest. But Justine had known for a while, or at least suspected, that I had this ghost thing going on, and instead of trying to help me, she waited until Vokkel got involved. Billy, on the other hand, knew almost immediately what I was, but also chose to hold back. If these women had spilled the beans up front, I think the last two days would have gone very differently, as in no Vokkel, no Edgar, and no baseball size lumps to the head. Now I was pissed, really, really pissed!

I took a deep breath and said in the most sedate tone I could muster, “So let's recap. I can see ghosts and kill them; I can share the sightings with others; I can probably, but we don't know for sure, do this confluence thing that happened to Anne; and you think I may even be able to 'talk' to the ghosts; or did I misunderstand that part? Most importantly, both you and Justine decided that feeding me bits and pieces of information was better than telling me everything at once. Had you told me, I, of course, could have avoided the whole Vokkel experience and the ugly and painful lump on my otherwise handsome head.” Bitterness had seeped into the last part of my statement, but my voice remained eerily calm and controlled. Instead of waiting for her to answer, I stood up, pulled two twenties and a ten from my pocket, tossed them on the table, and headed to the door. Billy had to scramble to catch up. I thought I'd flustered her, and it made me smile just a little bit.

I crossed the street to the parking lot where we'd left the car, then walked through the lot to a thickly wooded area with a trail that led up to Sutro Heights Park. As I walked I could hear Billy talking behind me; she sounded annoyed and I ignored her. I came to a large grassy space bathed in afternoon sun. I could hear Billy coming up behind me, and by the time she made it to my chosen spot, I'd removed my jacket, made a pillow of it, and was lying on the grass with my eyes closed.

“That was rude,” she said as she plopped down on the grass next to me.

“Was it? Honestly Billy, I don't give a shit. And, if we're going to run away together, I think you need to learn how to keep up with me better.”

“That calmness in your voice is starting to annoy me George.”

I opened one eye just enough to see that she was sitting very close, Indian style, her knees almost touching the sides of my chest. “It's not calmness Billy, its numbness; there's a big difference.”

My hands were lying across my stomach, my fingers woven together; she reached over and pulled one away and held onto it. Her voice was low and humble. “I'm a loner, okay? I don't make friends, which means I don't have any friends…I never have. I've never had to explain anything to anyone, and the only person I'm even remotely accountable to is Aunt Justine. Suddenly you're dumped in my lap, and the only thing I know about you is that my aunt loves you to death and you're a smart ass, which by the way is a trait I rather enjoy.”

I'd opened my eyes and used my other hand to shade them so I could see her face. She noticed and smiled a little.

“I'm sorry that I didn't just tell you everything up front; in retrospect, I wish I had.” She was still holding my hand and I tightened my grip a little and turned back to face the sun with my eyes closed.

“Fine,” I said with mock annoyance. “We can be friends, but this emotional crap's gotta stop.”

She squeezed my hand so hard that it hurt and said, “You're such an ass.” She repositioned herself so that she was lying next to me on the grass, and we stayed that way for quite a while.