Brighter, a supernatural thriller (8 page)

Cecelia explained to her that the work was just too hard. She had failed two classes and would have to make them up. She just wasn't really interested in school anymore. Ramona wanted to know what she was going to do for the future. Cecelia didn't know. She seemed totally unconcerned with that. She'd figure it out later, she said. So Cecelia moved in with Dawn and started working at a restaurant in town as a waitress, and sometimes Ramona saw her at the bar. But that had basically been the end of their friendship.

Cecelia had changed. Ramona guessed that she had changed too, but Cecelia's change had bothered her. It was like Cecelia was a completely different person. Gone was the girl who climbed trees in skirts. In her place was a party chick who worked just to make money to support her drinking. Ramona didn't know who Cecelia was anymore.

And then the thing with Tucker happened. One night a few weeks after she had the conversation with Mason in his car, Ramona had been taking a lot of ecstasy, and ecstasy lowered her inhibitions. Okay, hell, ecstasy erased her inhibitions, turned her into a maddened slave to physical pleasure. Tucker had just been there. He'd been on ecstasy too. Sure, she knew that Cecelia was into Tucker. Tucker knew it too, but he wasn't interested in Cecelia. It didn't matter though, because when she did what she did with Tucker, Cecelia hadn't been her friend anymore. At least that's how Ramona had felt about it.

And it had only been sex. It had been fucking amazingly awesome sex, sure, but that was mostly because of the ecstasy. At least, that's what Ramona thought, anyway. She'd never been able to work in a repeat performance with Tucker. Tucker had gotten back with his ex-girlfriend a week or two after she'd hooked up with him. They'd broken up again in a month or two, but by then the moment was over. She couldn't just call him out of the blue and say, "Hey Tucker, you wanna fuck?"

Ramona considered. Actually, that might have worked. Unfortunately, Tucker was entangled with someone new now. Damn. Maybe if he was ever single again... But no, because Ramona was going to move out of Elston. Really. She was. And she wouldn't be around when Tucker broke up with his most recent conquest. Really. Really, really. Maybe if she insisted it over and over to herself, she actually would be able to get the hell out of Elston. Maybe.

                                                                                             
Chapter Seven

"What do you know about demon possession?" greeted Ramona's voice over the phone.

Heather was drinking wine on her back porch, watching the sunset. "Nothing," she said. "There are no such things as demons." Heather was starting to get worried about Ramona. She seemed to be...different, lately.

"How do you know there are no such things as demons?" asked Ramona. "You believe in ghosts, right? Why not demons?"

What was up with Ramona, anyway? She never wanted to talk to her about this kind of stuff. "Well, for starters, demons are malevolent spirits, and I don’t believe that spirits are ever malevolent. It's just too simple to break everything into black and white. Spirits are like humans. They run the spectrum—why are you asking me this, anyway? Does this have something to do with your seeing Angelica's ghost?"

Ramona started talking. Well, she started rambling. She was saying things about Cecelia, who used to be her roommate way back in her sophomore year of college. And stuff about a picture of Dawn—Heather thought she knew who Dawn was, but she wasn't sure. It was very hard to follow. Ramona wasn't making any sense, so Heather cut her off. "Hold on a second. You think that Cecelia is possessed by a demon?"

"She's a completely different person. She totally changed. What other explanation is there?"

"Um..." Should she even dignify that question with an answer? "Lots of other explanations. She just changed. It's college. People change. You and I used to do lots of drugs, and now I'm married and you're...okay, well, you're kind of the same, but... The point is, people change for all kinds of reasons, but demon possession is not one of them."

"You don't understand," said Ramona. "It's a pattern. People start hanging out with the river hippies, and then they change. They become different people. It happened to Angelica too."

"But it doesn't mean anything," said Heather. "People just change. There's nothing supernatural about it. And besides, it seems like this whole thing started because you saw Angelica's ghost."

"No," said Ramona. "It didn't. It started because..." she trailed off. "I don't know how it started, or when it started. It's been going on for a very long time. Since whenever that picture of Dawn is from at least."

"Please stop for a second and listen to yourself," said Heather. "If both Angelica and Cecelia and Dawn are possessed by demons, that explains the change in behavior you claim that both Angelica and Cecelia had. But it doesn't explain how you saw Angelica after she was already dead. And it doesn't explain how you could find a picture of Dawn from the forties or whenever it was."

"It does," said Ramona, "because..." She stopped.

"It doesn't," said Heather.

"Maybe it doesn't." Her voice was small. Soft.

"Exactly." Ramona was coming apart at the seams. She was going crazy. What was Heather going to do about this? "You know, Ramona, maybe you should see somebody."

"Huh?"

"You know, like a counselor or something."

"You think I'm nuts."

"Kind of."

"You still don't even believe me about Angelica."

"Sure I do. I told you I did. I just don't see why you're so obsessed with the whole thing."

"I'm not. It's just the picture of Dawn that I found, and then the way that she stole it from me—"

"First of all, the picture of Dawn is not a picture of Dawn. It's just someone who looks a lot like her."

"If you saw it, you wouldn't say that."

"I will look at it. Come show it to me."

"I can't. It's gone. Which I think is awfully convenient."

"Jesus Christ! Do you have any idea how crazy you sound? Okay, say it is a picture of Dawn. How is that related to seeing Angelica's ghost?"

"I didn't say it was," said Ramona. "I mean, there's this clone theory, but that's just stupid."

"Clones?" repeated Heather.

"Yeah," said Ramona. She explained. Rambled anyway. "It kind of makes sense, doesn't it?"

"Ramona."

"No, think about it. I saw a clone of Angelica. And the Dawn in town now isn't really Dawn. She's a clone of that chick in the fifties. And Cecelia started acting different, because now she's a clone."

"You know, I don't think cloning really works the way you think it does. I think they have to grow the organism from infancy. So, they would have had to clone Cecelia when she was a baby and then replaced her with a clone version now—"

"Maybe the government has better technology that they just haven't shared with the population yet."

"No. Maybe you're just clumping together three totally unrelated events and trying to make something out of nothing!"

"Okay," said Ramona. "Back to demon possession."

"I think you need to come see me," said Heather. Maybe if she could just get face to face with Ramona, she could shake some sense into her. She had to do something, because she didn't know how to react to Ramona this way. It was ridiculous. It was insane. How could she possibly call Heather and talk to her this way and expect her to take it seriously? A thought occurred to her. "Is this a joke?"

"What?"

"Are you joking with me? Are you putting me on? Because I'm really worried about you, and if you're serious—"

"I'm serious. Sort of. I don't know. After I lost the picture, I was so sure, but now that I'm talking to you about it, it just seems kind of silly."

Heather breathed a sigh of relief. That sounded more like the Ramona she knew and loved. "Yeah. It does."

"Why did Dawn and Cecelia steal my picture, though? That's what I can't get past. It seems like they'd only take it if they had something to hide. You know, if there was something they didn't want me to know about."

"They didn't steal it. It blew away or it got thrown away with the paper towels."

"Yeah, but they got all defensive about it," said Ramona. "It's suspicious is all."

"You need to come see me. Maybe if you didn't tell me this stuff over the phone, maybe if we were face to face, we could make better sense of it."

"I will. I will come to see you."

"When?"

"I don't know."

"This weekend?"

"Maybe. I'll call you."

"That's what you said last time I talked to you, and you never called," said Heather. "Even if I wasn't kind of worried about you, I'd still want to see you. I miss you. I never see you anymore."

"I know," said Ramona.

"That stuff you were saying about Cecelia could easily apply to you, you know?" said Heather. "We used to be really close, and now we never see each other. You won't come over. You only call when you're upset about something."

Ramona was quiet on the other end of the line. "I'm sorry. I guess I just get busy. I don't mean to."

"Cecelia probably didn't mean to either."

"Right," said Ramona. "She's probably not possessed by a demon."

"Probably not."

"Okay," said Ramona. "I do want to come see you. Really. And I'm going to call you. I promise."

"You'd better," said Heather. "You're freaking me out." Behind her, she heard the screen door to the porch open, and she turned to see Rick coming out. He was just getting home from work. She waved at him and blew a kiss. "I have to go now," she said to Ramona. "Take care of yourself. Don’t go thinking anything too weird, okay?"

Ramona promised. They hung up.

"Who was that?" asked Rick, settling down in a chair opposite Heather.

"Guess," said Heather. "You want a beer?"

"Ramona?" he asked. "A beer sounds great."

"Yep," said Heather, reaching into the mini-fridge that sat beside her, and getting out a Sam Adams. She handed it to Rick, who used his lighter to pop off the cap.

"What's going wrong with her lately?" he asked, taking a long drink.

Ramona's always having issues was kind of a running joke between the two of them. Heather shook her head. "I think she's losing her mind. She called me about some weird theory she had that the kids who live on the river are turning people into clones or they're demon possessed or something."

Rick laughed. "How's she figure that?"

"Oh, she says it's a pattern. People change after they hang out with the river hippies."

"Huh," said Rick. "That's weird. You remember my friend Mason, right?"

Heather shook her head. "No. I don't think so."

"He was at our wedding."

"Baby, there were a lot of people at our wedding."

"Well, anyway, that happened to him. He used to be a totally cool guy, and then he started hanging out with those kids on the river. He started dating that Dawn chick. You remember Dawn, don't you?"

"Um..." Okay, she didn't mean to be superstitious, but that was just fucking
weird
. Rick wasn't seriously mentioning the same person that Ramona had.

"Never mind, it's not important. So, anyway, he just got totally different all of the sudden. He was really depressed. And when I talk to him, you know, sometimes, I could just swear he wasn't the same person anymore."

Heather frowned.

Rick shrugged. "Maybe he's demon possessed." He grinned.

Heather tried to smile back, but she couldn't. There wasn't anything to Ramona's ravings. Was there?

"What you said just reminded me of that is all," he said. "I don't really think he's possessed by demons, baby."

"Good," said Heather. "Because I don't think I could handle a crazy best friend
and
a crazy husband." And she definitely couldn't handle going crazy herself.

* * *

Blair Casey came into the library. She didn't speak, but she slid inside the door, locked her eyes with his, and sauntered to the counter. She leaned over, breasts and hair spilling out, nearly touching Garrett. She smiled at him.

He knew why she was there. He'd done something wrong. What had it been?

At first, he thought that it was the mere fact he'd been at The Brass Frog, but he'd been going to The Frog for months now, and Blair hadn't seemed to mind. So it didn't make sense for her to get pissed about it now. As he stood there and stared at her, her face inches from his own, the smell of her—patchouli and tobacco smoke—enveloping him where he stood, he knew that what it had to be. He'd fucked up because he'd talked to Ramona Brinks. That was it. It had to be. He'd told Ramona that he'd seen something the night he'd been run out of town. It had been about Blair and now—

She surveyed him, chewing on her lip.

Garrett glared at her. "What do you want?" he asked.

"I heard you were talking to Ramona Brinks at the bar the other night," said Blair. "Talking about some interesting things from the sound of it."

Shit. What was up with this town? People eavesdropped on his conversations? Screw that.

"What the fuck do you care?" Garrett said. "You've got your version of what happened that night. I've got mine."

Blair shook her head. "I know the truth about what happened that night. You don't even know how to admit that yourself." She heaved an enormous sigh. "Besides, I thought you and I had an understanding. You weren't going to talk about it."

"I haven't. I don't even remember what happened," said Garrett.

"That's not what it sounded like when you were talking to Ramona," said Blair. "And I remember what happened, Garrett. I remember everything."

What
had
happened that night? Garrett wasn't lying when he said he didn't know. But whatever he'd hallucinated or misunderstood, it had seriously fucked with him. He didn't like to think about it. But with Blair so close, he couldn't stop himself. He could smell the humidity on the summer air, hear the sounds of the crickets in the darkness, the far off bleep of a car horn, taste the blood in his mouth because he'd bitten his tongue so hard in shock...