We head toward the scent of human civilization: air heavy with exhaust fumes, over-used cooking oil from fast food restaurants, hot rubber on asphalt still holding the afternoon heat, trash bins filled with decomposing food, and the smell of humans—salty, sweet, stale, and seasoned with the acrid odor of sickness, minty fresh toothpaste, or lunch breath.
I scurry up a hill, run down a dark alley, and muscle open the lid to the sewer tunnel by Lake Square Mall. We drop into damp, cloying, fetid darkness. I could have used a wish token—would’ve been there sooner—but spirits can’t use tokens, and I didn’t want to tell Nan I would meet her at Purgatory. Better I keep an eye on the spirit. I need her.
“Nan, can you tell when a human is dead or alive if an otherworld creature is wearing them?”
No, sorry, child. That’s why I wanted you to let go of Gracie’s body at the house.
“But you can help me do the summoning of a ghost, right?”
As we talk and move along the ledge, an occasional ray of streetlight comes from sewer drains overhead. One ray slices Nan’s center and makes a small deposit. For a few seconds, she looks like a frightful nightlight plugged into the cement around us.
If the ghost is out there and you have his full name, yes, Gracie would have no trouble summoning it, without my help. You’re just wearin’ her body, remember—might not work. But we can try, dear.
We hear the bar before we see it—riotous ruckus tames to chaotic, whispered echoes by the time it finds us. When I pause, Nan does as well.
Is this where you expect your momma to be hiding? Nan’s body is circling mine, head level.
“Okay, hold on. She’s not my momma, or even a close relation. She’s my appointed guardian, and I am required to call her Mother. Doppelgangers don’t have family. We’re a demon’s blun—”
Yes, child, I know. You needn’t explain things to me. I’ve known as much as you do right now before I was out of diapers, passed it on to Gracie, too.
“Well, alrighty then,” I say. “But I feel the need to make sure, and I’m probably not done doing that yet.”
Don’t you sass me while usin’ my granddaughter as a dress, Nan says, finger leaving a smoke trail as she waves it around. I may look transparent, but I have depth, and a great delivery. You want me to show you? Why, I could summon you up a real nice playdate and maybe a few soul suckers for my amusement.
I can’t help but laugh. I love this woman already. “Although embracing a childhood I’m not destined to enjoy sounds fabulous, I don’t think that’s necessary, ma’am. But I’ll be praying we can summon up a dragon later.”
Nan nods so sharply her face elongates two feet in front of her ghostly form.
I love Gracie’s reaction. This host loves life. My giggle is cut short by acrid words from a dark area by the next turn off.
“Oh, joy. My little girl is wearing a witch and playing with a ghost!”
I whip my head in the direction the burbling voice. “Go away.”
“Come tell mother all about it,” the throaty voice says.
She’s wearing someone, a man this time, and he sounds odd. His words have a watery sound.
You didn’t tell me your mother sees spirits. Nan’s words mentally chide.
“I didn’t know,” I push back mentally.
Shame, because that’s going to change things.
I’m frozen in A Midsummer Night’s Dream moment. “We’re Pucked,” I say out loud, and follow it with a sigh.
I won’t let you down, child. Nan’s voice rolls around in my head like a whisper riding a drafty sewer tunnel. Your wendigo died in a fire, and I think you killed my granddaughter. We’ll stick to that.
Chapter 20
Gaire
“They should be in the sewer by now,” I tell myself and enter the storm drain next to the pond basin.
The darkness is soothing, but my concern for Luna is driving my sanity over the edge and into my own darkness. I can’t get the image of CeCe on the carpet with the doppelganger on top of her out of my mind. What if the being is wearing another human? What if it tries to kill Gracie this time?
Taking a token out of my pocket, I wish myself to the sewer system close to Purgatory. Seconds later the coin turns to dust, and before I can blow it from my palm I’m assaulted with the exuberance of a biker-bar crowd and a pulsing purple light. I’m Down Under.
The bar burps a few patrons out its front door.
I duck around a connecting tunnel-joint about fifty feet from Purgatory.
Although the noise is loud, it doesn’t last long. The door shuts and leaves only inebriated sewer squabble. Two berserkers and a troll chortle and jibe their way past the opening of the sewer junction. None of them notice me.
“Did you follow me to Michigan, Mother?”
Gracie’s voice catches my attention. I burrow deeper into the darkness, a wary eye on the three Purgatory patrons who head in the opposite direction.
“I am your guardian,” a male voice says as I creep closer and hug shadows. “It’s my job to follow you.”
I can’t see either of them unless I chose to lean out into the tunnel.