knew what would happen next, he almost wondered if the Calling had failed. Soon, a gray mist began to rise from the dead man's mouth. The snaking coil of dirty-white smoke billowed from him, twisting and turning, seeking.
It found her. The smoke floated to the Death-talker and she cracked open her mouth. The vapor filtered through the smallest of openings, into her body and her spirit.
She was possessed by the spirit of the dead man.
Jess leaned forward and whispered, "Can you speak awhile?"
The gray-shrouded form nodded and lifted her face to the light. The marbled white of her skin gleamed, cold and luminescent. Blue veins raced across her skin. Gray strands of hair traced her cheek and shoulders.
"Do you remember what happened to you?" Jess’s voice lilted, a soft lullaby.
The Death-talker would soon speak with the voice of the dead man. Logan regretted he would be unable to ask the victim for his name. The dead did not utter their names when they walked the Ether. One's name can bind you to a Demon. Forever. Only after their fates were sealed was it safe to speak the name of the dead.
In the Ether, they only knew their death, the time and place and circumstances, and they were doomed to experience the moment they perished over and over until their time in the In-between had passed.
"Can you speak of it?" A nod. "Tell us. How you come to die this way?"
"Dancing. I remember dancing. Music. Lights. And then nothing," she said, the tone deeper, voice of the dead Walker more gravelly than her normal musical cadence.
"Then what happened?" Jess asked.
"I don't know. I woke up and the man was there."
"Do you know who this man is? What was his name?"
"Don't know his name. Old man. Crazy." The Death-talker tilted her head, but it was the spirit who controlled her movements. "Something else. Spooky. Evil creature."
"What did he do to you?" asked Jess.
"So much pain. He cut. I watched." No emotion tainted his voice. The spirit of the dead Walker revealed only snatches of emotion.
"You were awake while he did this to you?"
"He gave me a drug. I was awake while ...while he cut the skin off my body...wanted him to stop. I couldn't move.... I couldn’t.... I felt it all. Asked him so many times. Begged. He didn't care.... Said he wanted my skin in perfect condition." The head tilted again. "Have you seen my skin?"
The dead were childlike, unfocused, and tended to lose their concentration often. They needed guidance to get back on track.
"Did he say why he wanted your skin?" Jess prompted him.
"No. Just that he had no choice." The Death-talker shook her head, her gray strands shimmying like a colorless waterfall.
"Where did he take you?" Jess kept her questions short, knowing every minute the man's spirit remained within the Death-talkers body was a potentially deadly minute.
"Hospital," he replied, his voice shaking, yet no fear threaded within the timbre.
"Were there any other people there?"
"I don't remember." The Death-talkers face crumpled with sorrow. Tears pooled in her white eyes. "I don't remember."
"Did you see anyone else?"
"Just the pretty girl. She was my friend. She stayed with me until the light came."
"Where did you see this girl?" Both Logan and Jess leaned forward.
"By the roses. Such pretty roses..." His voice trailed away into nothing.
Then it was over.
The Death-talker's face remained still, as if all life had left her body too. Then she began to shake as the spirit she held within fought for release. Her head fell back and her mouth opened, releasing the sinuous cloud of gray. It twirled and twisted, seeking its home back in the mouth of the dead man. He was at peace again. The Death-talker sat up straighter, an air of fragility around her as if a soft breeze would be enough to knock her over.
"I apologize. He has been through much. When a person is traumatized in such a fashion, they are not long for this realm. Their soul cannot take the memory of their death. It seeks release from
It found her. The smoke floated to the Death-talker and she cracked open her mouth. The vapor filtered through the smallest of openings, into her body and her spirit.
She was possessed by the spirit of the dead man.
Jess leaned forward and whispered, "Can you speak awhile?"
The gray-shrouded form nodded and lifted her face to the light. The marbled white of her skin gleamed, cold and luminescent. Blue veins raced across her skin. Gray strands of hair traced her cheek and shoulders.
"Do you remember what happened to you?" Jess’s voice lilted, a soft lullaby.
The Death-talker would soon speak with the voice of the dead man. Logan regretted he would be unable to ask the victim for his name. The dead did not utter their names when they walked the Ether. One's name can bind you to a Demon. Forever. Only after their fates were sealed was it safe to speak the name of the dead.
In the Ether, they only knew their death, the time and place and circumstances, and they were doomed to experience the moment they perished over and over until their time in the In-between had passed.
"Can you speak of it?" A nod. "Tell us. How you come to die this way?"
"Dancing. I remember dancing. Music. Lights. And then nothing," she said, the tone deeper, voice of the dead Walker more gravelly than her normal musical cadence.
"Then what happened?" Jess asked.
"I don't know. I woke up and the man was there."
"Do you know who this man is? What was his name?"
"Don't know his name. Old man. Crazy." The Death-talker tilted her head, but it was the spirit who controlled her movements. "Something else. Spooky. Evil creature."
"What did he do to you?" asked Jess.
"So much pain. He cut. I watched." No emotion tainted his voice. The spirit of the dead Walker revealed only snatches of emotion.
"You were awake while he did this to you?"
"He gave me a drug. I was awake while ...while he cut the skin off my body...wanted him to stop. I couldn't move.... I couldn’t.... I felt it all. Asked him so many times. Begged. He didn't care.... Said he wanted my skin in perfect condition." The head tilted again. "Have you seen my skin?"
The dead were childlike, unfocused, and tended to lose their concentration often. They needed guidance to get back on track.
"Did he say why he wanted your skin?" Jess prompted him.
"No. Just that he had no choice." The Death-talker shook her head, her gray strands shimmying like a colorless waterfall.
"Where did he take you?" Jess kept her questions short, knowing every minute the man's spirit remained within the Death-talkers body was a potentially deadly minute.
"Hospital," he replied, his voice shaking, yet no fear threaded within the timbre.
"Were there any other people there?"
"I don't remember." The Death-talkers face crumpled with sorrow. Tears pooled in her white eyes. "I don't remember."
"Did you see anyone else?"
"Just the pretty girl. She was my friend. She stayed with me until the light came."
"Where did you see this girl?" Both Logan and Jess leaned forward.
"By the roses. Such pretty roses..." His voice trailed away into nothing.
Then it was over.
The Death-talker's face remained still, as if all life had left her body too. Then she began to shake as the spirit she held within fought for release. Her head fell back and her mouth opened, releasing the sinuous cloud of gray. It twirled and twisted, seeking its home back in the mouth of the dead man. He was at peace again. The Death-talker sat up straighter, an air of fragility around her as if a soft breeze would be enough to knock her over.
"I apologize. He has been through much. When a person is traumatized in such a fashion, they are not long for this realm. Their soul cannot take the memory of their death. It seeks release from
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