Gina Grant - Esprit de Corpse

A gurney appeared at the doorway, but with so many in the room it wouldn’t fit. In seconds, half the security personnel exited, leaving room for the medical team to charge in. One EMT focused on Theresa while the other tended to Shannon.

Both women got emergency paddles, but after only a few shouts of “Clear!” the EMT at Theresa’s side closed her eyes and called time of death. He quickly joined the other at Shannon’s side. Together they administered a much more sophisticated form of CPR than Conrad had done on Theresa yesterday.

There might still be a chance!

I leapt through various personnel to where Shannon’s outline fluttered in a corner. “C’mon, Shannon. C’mon. I tried to grab her arm, but my incorporeal fingers slipped through her insubstantial body. “Shannon. Go to your body. Now! Last chance.”

Shannon seemed to hear me. She nodded faintly and began drifting slowly across the room. “C’mon. C’mon!” I encouraged, staying where I was. No way was I going down that road again.

“Somebody call it,” I heard.

“No, no. Wait! You have to wait!” I yelled, biting all my nails at once. Where was Kali when I needed her? “No, Not you, Shannon. Go! Go!”

Shannon drifted closer. A glance across the room showed me the faintest flicker that could be Dante. I didn’t have time to worry about him now. At least he was as far from Shannon’s body as he could be and still be in the room.

Having its soul nearby must have kicked the body into gear because just as the EMT drew a breath to call time of death, Shannon’s body drew a breath of her own. And in doing so, inhaled Shannon’s pale spirit back where it belonged.

Shannon coughed. Seconds later, an EMT slipped an oxygen mask gently over her face. She blinked her eyes open.

“I’m okay?” she rasped. “I’m me again?”

The EMT smiled at her. I might have noticed he was really cute. And probably so did Shannon. “You are, indeed, you, Ms. Iver. Can you tell me what day it is?”

Whoa. That was a hard one. How ’bout starting with the year and working up to it?

Another EMT had finished bandaging Maddy’s head and neck. The guard responsible for her grabbed her hands and cuffed them roughly behind her back. Gripping her by her sizable biceps, the EMT and the guard helped Maddy to her feet.

“What’s that?” the guard asked, picking up the parchment contract from the floor. It was flipped to the signature page where Conrad had left it when he’d finished photographing it. Due to the scuffle, the contract looked like it’d gone through hell. It was now torn, bore several overlapping footprints and a giant pool of bright red blood.

Wait, what? Blood? Not mine—well, Theresa’s. I’d only bled a dark drop or two on the yellow pages. Yellow. Of course! That was why the floor beneath Maddy’s head had seemed yellow when the rest of the tiles were white. The contract amendment was now awash in Maddy’s bright red blood. She’d lain on it when she’d been knocked off Conrad, bleeding from both the gash in her neck he’d inflicted and the head wound where I’d left my own mark.

And because Maddy had a soul and Theresa didn’t, her blood on the signature line actually meant something.

Oh, no. It meant Conrad was going to get his twenty-five-year extension after all. Now what was I going to do?

Unlike Dante, who was weak from being away from Hell for so long, I’d gotten my batteries recharged by being in Theresa’s living body. It was up to me to salvage this fiasco.

In my mind’s eye, I replayed every time Dante had manifested. Again I wished for Amber’s eidetic memory. A vague notion swam up from the bottom of my brain. I put both hands on my scythe, screwed my eyes closed and wished as hard as I could that my best friend in life could see and hear me.

Feeling nothing new or different, I figured it hadn’t worked. I opened my eyes and checked myself out. If I was glowing as Dante had, it was hard to tell in the bright bathroom fluorescents. A busy EMT rushed through me. Okay, well at least I hadn’t manifested to everyone. Or corporealized. Now to see if I’d managed to manifest only to Shannon. I crept toward her voice in case the slightest movement could jar me into visibility.

I followed the sound of Shannon protesting she was fine only to find her being supported by two EMTs. So much for fine. Her voice sounded froggy but not as bad as Theresa’s had after Maddy’s previous strangulation attempt.

“Shannon. Can you see me?” I waved frantically in front of her face, my hands passing through first one EMT and then the other on the return trip.

Her eyes followed my waving hand, then crossed. She blinked a few times and cut her gaze to the medical personnel surrounding her. “Okay, Yes. Please help me up.” They lifted her onto the gurney and she lay back. One paramedic draped a blanket over her. “Does the head section raise?”

The cute paramedic turned a crank, stopping when Shannon’s head and upper body had been raised to a comfortable angle.

“Thank you. Could you please give me a moment?” She gifted EMT Cutie with a weak smile. He nodded and stepped away to speak to someone. The inevitable clipboard put in an appearance. Boxes may have been ticked.

Shannon turned my way and nodded once. She met my gaze but didn’t speak.

“That’s good, Shannon. Don’t say anything or they’ll think you’ve hit your head and you’ll have to do a bunch of tests and just don’t. ’Kay?”

She answered with the tiniest nod. I’d had twitches more enthusiastic than that. Still it was exactly what I’d told her to do. The last thing we wanted was to attract attention or have them question her sanity.

“Tell them the contract belongs to you. We need it. Don’t let anything happen to it.”

“Excuse me,” she called toward the door, her voice husky but loud. “That document. The parchment one? Is mine. It’s very important. If you could just hand it to me.” Shannon’s request was repeated to the personnel remaining in the bathroom. There were a few comments about it being evidence, but eventually someone handed it to one of the EMTs, who handed it to Shannon.

“Thank you,” she said, stuffing it under the blanket. Good thinking. Now it couldn’t fall off even if she passed out. Probably not the first time someone had gotten blood on the emergency blanket.

Suddenly, I heard shouting and the far too familiar sound of a skull smacking a wall. “Be right back,” I told Shannon as I stepped through the wall and back into the bathroom. It appeared Maddy had chosen that moment to struggle. Jeez, what was the point?

The evil murderer had managed to shake off her guard. The woman lay dazed on the floor, one hand on her head. I guessed it had been her skull I’d heard thunking against the wall.

Maddy ducked under several pairs of grasping hands and threw herself at the back wall, her own hands still cuffed behind her. She turned to face the room, where various people were saying rational things like, “Calm down now, Maddy,” and “There’s nowhere to go, Maddy.”

Two other guards had guns trained on her.

Using her cuffed hands, Maddy reached behind her to yank the supply closet door open. She then spun back toward it, probably hoping it was an exit.

Instead, she froze. I’d come up behind her, so I could see Conrad huddled in the corner, trying to make his massive demonic frame as small as possible. A roll of toilet paper had fallen hole-first onto one of his rough gray horns, a long two-ply streamer trailing across his forehead.

For the moment, Maddy’s body and the angle of the room kept the rest of the assemblage from seeing Conrad.

“If you’ll come quietly, Maddy,” said her guard, reaching out one hand in a beseeching manner, the other holding a bloody cotton pad to her own head.