Sparrow Hill Road 2010 By Seanan(22)

***

"Oh, fuck." I never saw a picture of Laura, and Tommy never called her anything but beautiful. Still, she's the right age to be the girlfriend of the boy I helped through the painful process of dying, and I wasn't exactly subtle when I told those racers to shut their death-trap down. "You're Laura."

"Finally." She shakes her head, stands, moves to re-light a candle that's blown out. "I thought you'd be smarter than this. You've been at it for a long time. I suppose I didn't think dumb luck could carry you this far." She rakes another look along my body, and adds, "I also thought you'd be better-looking, or at least have bigger breasts. I suppose that pretty isn't required in a dead whore."

"I didn't kill him! God, what is it going to take to make you believe me? I tried to keep him away from that stupid race!" I stayed with him while he bled to death, I guided him down the ghostroads like he was an old friend, and not just some kid too dumb to listen when I told him to be careful. "I did everything I could to save him."

"Well you didn't do enough." She blows out her match and drops it to the diner floor, grinding it into dust with the toe of one foot. "I hope you're happy with all the lives you've ruined."

"Laura--"

"You won't be ruining any more." She opens the book, standing outlined in the candlelight like some avenging angel, and she begins to read.

Her words are ice and fire and acid and the bitter needles of pounding rain turned into a weapon by the driving wind. Her words are the bite of locusts and the sting of wasps, rust consuming steel, poison corroding silver. They blister my skin and rip the screams from my lips, writhing like living things as they flay me open and display my inadequacy to the universe. I don't know how long she reads; I don't care how long she reads, because every word is murder, and I die a thousand times before she quiets. There is only the sound of rain and the harsh rasp of my breathing as I pitch forward, sprawling on the diner floor.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Rose, didn't you like that? Wasn't that fun for you?"

I want to say something nasty, want to match the malicious joy in her tone with the acid in my own, but I can't seem to force my lips to form the words. Everything hurts too badly.

"Well, I hope you're recovered enough to continue, because we're just getting started, and I'm not ready to put you back together again. I thought you'd be a pretty sturdy ghost. Don't disappoint me."

She starts to read again. This time, somehow, I find the strength to scream.

***

True to her word, Laura takes me to the very edge of truly gone before pulling me back again, changing her wasp-words for milk and honey and the soothing promise of peace. It's almost worse than the pain, because it means the pain can start all over again, flaying off the layers of my existence until I barely remember who I am. I'm not sure how long she can do this before I lose my mind. I'm even less sure that she cares.

Once the restoration is complete, she stops, puts the book down on her chair, and begins to walk the edge of the Seal, re-lighting candles, checking her line of salt. "I bet you're wondering if I know how much this hurts you. If I've considered how cruel I'm being." She glances my way, smiles, rattlesnake again. "Believe me, I've considered it. I just wish I had a way of making it go on for longer."

"Yeah, well, forgive me if you're alone in that," I whisper. "I didn't kill him."

"He's still dead."

There's nothing I can say to that. I sag into the floor, trying to gather what strength I can from this brief respite. There's still no route of escape presenting itself, no golden "Get Out of Jail Free" card suddenly appearing to tell me which way to run. The Seal is close enough to perfect that I can't worm out of it, the line of salt clean and unbroken, the candles lined up in triplicate so that even when one blows out, the light endures. I am well and truly fucked.

"You know, I'll be sorry when the sun rises. I've been looking for you for so long, and I've worked so hard for this night...I suppose I'll have to find something else to do with myself after this. Maybe I'll go into the exorcism business. It's surprisingly satisfying, when you know what you're doing."

"Go to hell."

"No, Rose. That's where you're going." She walks back to the chair, collects her book, opens it. I take a breath, preparing for the pain to start.

Instead, the sound of tires on broken blacktop, an engine drawing closer and stopping, a car door slammed. Laura tenses and looks up, light glinting off her glasses. I consider screaming, and decide against it. Most people won't believe me if I say that I'm a ghost; they'll think we're playing some sort of fucked-up sex game and leave me here, and then Laura will just be angrier. It's not worth the risk.