The Dead Girl Read online

  "No, you wouldn't. Because one of the odd things about our existence is that we're not remembered. That if normal people see us, see what we can do, they don't remember it. We fade out of existence."

  "Uh huh. How come I remember what you just did?"

  "That…I don't know. Might be because I'm still here. In your face."

  I stared at her for a while, not sure what I believed and what I didn't. "Okay—you call yourselves legacies, and you're called a Gemini? Is that like a rank, like lieutenant or sergeant?"

  "It's more of a…description. My alignment is Air, with my birthday in June.”

  “June…you men like the Zodiac Gemini?”

  “Pretty much…exactly like that.”

  I recalled my reading on the Zodiac. “I’m a Gemini too. Element is Air, but so is Libra. So do Libra legacies also fade in?”

  “We haven’t found a Libra yet so we’re not sure what their power is, or how it relates to Air. My power works on a theory of air.” I must of looked as confused as I felt because she immediately said, “Nevermind," she didn't look or sound impatient—but tired. "My ability works on a sub-atomic understanding of corresponding points. I can see where I am and where I want to be simultaneously and then I just—"

  "Wait, wait, wait," I held up my hands. "My brain must be leaking on the floor. Let's just say—you can teleport yourself to different places."

  "Uh huh. As well as objects. Our approved descriptive is concurrence.”

  It all sounded so real when she said it. So believable. But— "This we—the legacies—you—are you some sort of organized syndicate? Secret society?"

  "It's a—" her expression darkened and her frown deepened. "They work as a clandestine organization. Mercenaries mostly. They do odd jobs for hire—everything from brute force to information trafficking. But they have an added bonus working in their favor."

  “The bonus being these special powers.”

  "Yeeeah. And since if anyone does see what it is we do, they can't remember it."

  "So," I chewed on my lower lip. "What is it you do? Other then concurrence—teleport— to different places?”

  She put her hand on her face again and stared straight ahead.

  I pursed my lips. "You can't remember?"

  She shook her head. "I have holes in my memory." She looked at me. "From today. Yesterday. I can remember some things—like you, and me, and this town—but they're memories that leave off from the last time you and I were together—I just—I'm having a hard time remembering why I'm here."

  I'm not going to freak out. "Were you doing this before you supposedly drowned in that boating accident? This power? Is this why you faked your death? Because the government found out you were a freak?"

  "No," she said. "I really don't remember the why. The accident was real and that's what precipitated the power—right before I felt like I was going to drown I used this ability and sort of—" she held out her hands. "I teleported myself out of the water in time and I ended up in the cemetery, in Bonaventure. I didn’t know what else to do, so I walked to a gas station and called my dad to let him know were I was because I didn’t know if my mom survived and I wanted him to go save her—why are you looking at me like that?”

  I sat with my mouth hanging open. A few more minutes and I'd be ready for the white coats. After I stared at her and she stared back, I leaned backward. "You actually teleported out of the water…to the cemetery.”

  "Yes."

  "You were safe and alive—so why was there a funeral? Did your mother know you teleported?” My voice rose a bit. I was angry. No…I was pissed off as painful memories of that morning came rushing back—mom coming into my room to give me the bad news.

  Alyson put her hands up. "Olivia I'm sorry. I didn't know any of this happened till later. Even right now it's all hazy. I—I got pieces of it when I woke up in the cemetery this morning. Just ideas of what I've been doing and where I've been for three years. I can remember a good bit of what I was doing up until Thursday."

  "That was yesterday."

  She looked at me and I could tell from the look in her eyes she was thinking, maybe even searching her memories. "I—I can't remember Thursday. I remember being on the phone with my dad—he wanted me to fly to Atlanta."

  "Where have you been?" That was just one of so many questions cramming their way to the top.

  "Oregon. I'd been living in Oregon with my dad."

  "And your mother knows all this?”

  She shook her head. “No. I don’t think she does.”

  I stood. I needed to pace. I needed to think. "So let me follow this—and forgive me if I'm a little angry here. But you escaped the water. But for some reason your father faked your death—lied to your mother—she cried on his shoulder at the funeral!” I stopped and looked at him.

  Alyson looked as if I'd slapped her. Her eyes were wide and she was pushing against the couch cushion. I shrugged. "What?"

  "I—I didn't know that. I didn't know they'd gone to my funeral together. All I knew was that I was going to live in Oregon with my dad. That my mom couldn't take care of me anymore. I was told the boating accident was my fault and that I—that I—" she put his hands on her face. "That I nearly killed her."

  "Nearly killed her? How did you nearly kill her?"

  "Olivia….don't make me talk about it. Please…we need to go. I can’t stay here.”

  "Alyson," and I was hovering over her now. "You show up out of nowhere on a stormy night—the freak'n ghost of my dead best friend—I have to have answers."

  She pushed herself up and stood, facing me. I tried not to focus on the stains. Whatever she'd done, or come from, it'd been terrible. She clenched her hands into fists. "I don't have all the answers, Olivia. I'm still looking for them. It's like—" and she looked around the room. "It's like I just woke up in a room with a million doors and I don't know which one to go through. I don't know how I woke up in the cemetery or why. I don't know why I can't remember what happened or why—" and she looked down at her shirt. "I just know it was bad. Really bad."

  I reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. She flinched and I withdrew it. I pointed for her to sit down before she fell down. When she did I sat on the edge of the coffee table. “Were you in Bonaventure Cemetery did you wake up?”

  "It was the same place I transported out of the water that day. Twyla Cuill’s mausoleum, where you and I used to play when we were kids."

  I knew which one. It had an iron door that never seemed to be locked. Directly in the back was a stained glass window on the far wall, and in the evening, the sun shown through and made a mirror image on the marble floor of a crescent moon.

  "I haven't gone back there since you died," I said.

  She hung her head. "I'm sorry. I don't have all the answers right now. I'm pretty sure my sudden ability to teleport had a lot to do with why I never came back. That's when I learned my dad was in charge of these Evanescents. And he was going to train me."

  “And you’re sure your mom doesn’t know you’re alive?”

  "I—I haven't talked to her or seen her since that day.”

  Oh snap. "So your dad is in charge of them. This is a good thing?"

  "No," she shook her head. "It's not a good thing. And…" she shifted her position and reached behind her and pulled out a wad of damp reciepts and cards from her back pocket. I caught a glimpse of an Oregon license. She pulled a card out of the mess and handed it to me. "I found this in my pocket. I realized after I read it that I didn't have a phone."

  It was a business card. On one side was a spinning world logo with the words SOUL AUTOMATIC in black. There was a name on the card—Shibuya August.

  Shibuya.

  "Who is this?"

  Alyson shrugged. "I don't know. Turn it over and there's another number."

  I did, and on the back were several words in sloppy penmanship. It looked like it said CALL FOR HELP and a phone number. It had an Atlanta area code. I knew this because a friend of mine
moved to Atlanta last year and it was the same area code she lived in.

  I told her to wait there and ran up the stairs. In my backpack was my untraceable phone. It wasn't that I was dishonest with my parents about who I called—an ex-boyfriend had given it to me. Just a simple pay-as-you-go phone that mom and dad didn’t know I had. He'd had a crazy mom that thought he should be a priest and believed all girls were sluts so we used this phone to talk.

  We'd used it a few times before I found out he'd been dating another girl and got her pregnant. Why not use it now? I'd seen enough television to know if I called this number from the home phone then it could be traced.

  Luckily the old flip phone still had a charge and I sat on the couch beside him as I dialed. After about three rings an answering machine picked up. "You have reached the Helios Hotline—I'm afraid all operators are busy. But if you'd like to leave a message, one of our staff will get back to you as soon as possible."

  There was a beep.

  "I was wondering if you knew an Alyson Cooper or a Shibuya August. Please give me a call back at," and I rattled off the cell phone number.

  I hung up and looked at Alyson. She was looking a little better. "So—ever heard of Helios?"

  She shrugged. "Other than the Greek reference? Nope."

  "Well that makes two of us. Helios was the sun.”

  Alyson smiled at me. But she looked at little worried. "What if that number has to do with this," and she looked down at her stained shirt.

  “Stay right here and let me get you some clothes. I think we can still wear the same sizes.” I ran back up the stairs into my room and grabbed a pair of old jeans, socks, a pair of sneakers and an old Star Wars tee-shirt I had in the back. It was one of my brother’s cast offs, which meant it was soft and comfy.

  I passed his room on my way back downstairs. Anson had moved out two years ago—after graduating MIT. Bought a condo in Old Savannah, amongst the cobblestones and tourists. I never paid much attention to what it was he did—something with technical law?—but he did tend to mooch off mom and dad sometimes.

  And he always left the biggest mess in the kitchen.

  I gave Alyson the clothes and she ran into the downstairs bathroom behind the kitchen. I checked the window again and the car was still there. The rain had slackened and I could clearly see Taggart in the driver’s seat. And he was looking at the house—and at me.

  “How do I look?”

  I turned and smiled at Alyson. She’d combed that crazy hair of hers and the clothing fit her perfectly. She didn’t look so much like a train wreck now. “You look much better.” She clutched her old clothes in her hand as she stepped over the mud. “Sorry I tracked that in. I think I remember your mom being a clean freak.”

  “You would be remembering correctly.”

  Alyson looked at the window. “They’re still watching.”

  “Yeah, but I think they saw me looking.”

  “We should go. Now.”

  I shook my head. “They’ll just want to know where we’re going. And you haven’t told me why they’re looking for you.”

  She looked at the bloody clothes in her hand.

  Someone pounded on the door again and we both jumped. Barnes was looking in the window by the door. “Miss Long? It’s Officer Taggart again,” came the shout. “We need to come in!”

  Alyson grabbed my hand and pulled me back into the TV room. She spoke in a harsh whisper. “They’ve seen me. They’re sure I’m here. We have to go. Now.”

  "Go where?"

  "Anywhere.”

  “Why are you suddenly so afraid?” Alyson was looking back at the front door with wide eyes.

  “When I got here, there was something that was driving me, Olivia. Something bad. Something I was running away from. When I took these clothes off,” She held up the wet clothing. “I remembered. Not all of it, but enough that it scared me. It's my dad. I have to get away from my dad." She pulled me around the couch and into the kitchen, away from the pounding at the front door. "I'm sorry I can't stay—but I have to keep going. If he finds me he'll—"

  "Alyson? What is it? Why do you have to run from your dad? Wouldn't it be better to find your dad? See if he knows what happened?"

  Alyson's eyes widened. "No…" she shook her head quickly. "Dad…"

  I widened my eyes. "What?"

  Pound, pound, pound. “Miss Long—we’re going to break it down if you don’t answer!” Taggart yelled through the door.

  "My dad's a—" Alyson began.

  “One…”

  "A what?" I asked.

  “Two…”

  She stepped back and held out the clothes. "He's a murderer, Olivia. He killed…people. That's why I ran. That's why I have to keep running." She dropped the jeans she was holding and held up the shirt with the blood all over it. "Because I think I was there. I think I saw him do it."

  “Three!”

  Soul Automatic

  "You just remembered this?” I looked at her shirt. "Your dad's killed someone and you got all that blood on you? Were you standing right next to him?”

  "No—yes," she genuinely looked panicked. "I think that's why I teleported away from him. I have to go. I'm sorry I lied to you about being dead. I never wanted to hurt you or anyone else. But I know I can't stay here. He'll find me—those guys are going to break down your door—“

  "Wait…you're not going to vanish again are you?"

  "I have to go, Olivia. Just keep your door locked and if you see my dad, run as fast as you can from him. And don't let him touch you."

  I blinked at her. "Don't let him touch me—you mean he's one too?"

  Alyson nodded. She was looking at me with a half smile. “It was so good to see you again, Olivia."

  I searched her face. "Don't leave me again, Alyson."

  "I have to," She stepped away and picked up the pants she’d been wearing. "Don't tell anyone you saw me, okay? They won't believe you anyway."

  The air around her shimmered like it had in the TV room when she'd appeared. Oh screw this. I ran at her and wrapped my arms around her. "You're not going to leave me again!"

  "Olivia!"

  Something ripped my stomach out of my gut. Or that's what it felt like as the foyer in the house bent and twisted around me. It felt like I'd drank a carton of bad milk. Cramping. Nausea. And then that awful feeling of floating—the kind I always got when I rode a roller coaster.

  I also scream on roller coasters. And I screamed at this too—from the moment the foyer vanished to the instant I was standing in the rain in a clump of trees and shrubbery. In my fuzzy slippers.

  Seconds after I felt the wet, muddy ground beneath my thin slippers I stopped screaming—mainly because Alyson collapsed against me. I grabbed her but wasn't ready for her body weight and we both fell onto the cold wet grass. I could just see her face under the street light—she was out. Her eyes closed.

  Well, it was time for me, superhero Olivia Long, to come to the dead friend’s rescue. First I did a small freak-out in my head because well—WE ACTUALLY TELEPORTED SOMEWHERE—

  Then I took in several breaths—shivered because it was cold and I was now soaked—and looked around to see where the hell we were. I was afraid we'd ended up in the cemetery since that seemed to be her go-to place. But taking a good look at where I was standing in relation to the trees—and then turning to see the large statue not far behind me—

  We were on the edge of Madison Square in Old Savannah.

  This part of Savannah was built around a bunch of squares, each with names of famous people or places. And all the trees have loads of Spanish Moss hanging on them.

  It's basically the tourist part of the town, but residents do live in the brownstones that line the squares—that is if they're from old money, new money or bought before the movie and book "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil" ever came about.

  My brother had lucked up and managed to buy one of the townhouses nearby. He wasn't directly on Madison Square, but he w
as less than a block away.

  Patting my hip pocket, I was relieved that I had that phone on me and covered it with my body from the rain. I called Anson.

  He answered on the third ring. He sounded—cautious. "Hello?"

  "Anson—it's Olivia."

  There was a pause. "Olivia—whose phone are you calling from? It says Private Caller."

  "Nevermind. Just listen to me—I need your help. I got a problem."

  "Olivia—I told mom and dad I wouldn't fall for any of your hair-brained stories while they were gone—and no you can't borrow my car—even if you are turning seventeen."

  "I don't want to borrow your car, you idiot," I wasn't in the mood for Anson's sarcasm. "I need you to get out here to the square and help me."

  "The square? What square?"

  "Madison Square, you boob."

  He sighed. "Yeah. Right. Like you walked all the way from Whitemarsh Island, Olivia. You're not going to make me go outside and get wet. It's storming and I'm watching a movie."

  "I'm not kidding, asshole."

  I was cold. I was wet. And I had an unconscious friend who could teleport. "Anson—I'm soaking wet in the square with Alyson Cooper."

  There was a pause.

  "Anson—I'm freezing my ass off out here—come out here and help me!"

  "Are you serious? You're really out in the square?"

  "What, do I need to start yelling out here?"

  There was another pause—my panic completely lost on him. Jerk. "Wait—you said who was with you?"

  "Alyson Cooper."

  An even longer pause. I expected him to say "That's impossible, Olivia, she's dead" or even a "you're with a dead girl?”

  I wasn't expecting, "Stay right there. I'm heading your way."

  What—so he wouldn't believe that I'd come all the way from home but he believed I was with a dead friend?

  That's when I should have realized my life was about to get even weirder.

  "You know, you look pretty alive for a someone who drowned.”

  I looked up at the high ceiling in the kitchen where the fluorescent light softly buzzed over my head. The place looked nice. And very neat.