Nine Zero One Three: An Occult Horror Novel, page 11
His vision blurred, and he felt like he drifted back to that twilight place where all of this started. The room turned purple then it faded into an encroaching blackness that had no edges.
“Gray!” Inez said. She propped him up and helped him to keep from tumbling forward.
“I’m not… I’m not feeling so well,” he said.
“All right… come on,” she replied. She helped him to the couch and saw the crumpled tarot cards laying nearby. He sat back, and the old couch springs squeaked in complaint. “Water?” she asked.
He nodded, and she found a glass in his kitchen and filled it from the tap. Gray gulped it down as though the water was the only tangible thing keeping him tethered—the only thing keeping him from falling back into blithering unconsciousness and that other place. He sighed and then set the cup down with purpose, and thought about telling her what he’d seen. But he couldn’t. “I’m better now, thanks,” he said.
“What exactly has been going on here?” she asked.
He raised his eyebrows and tucked his lips as he shook his head. “I know nothing about this shit, okay? This is your world, I presume. But it isn’t mine. See? I told you last night. I don’t want to get involved.”
“Well, you are involved. You see this?” She pointed to the drawing and the numbers. “You are,” she said. “Any idea what it is—what that means? Why would you draw that on your ceiling?” Inez asked.
“I didn’t…” he mumbled.
“What?” she asked.
He gave his words a robust voice, more than he needed in that small apartment. “I didn’t do that, okay? I didn’t do it.”
“It just… appeared?” she asked.
He nodded.
She picked up the tarot cards. And wandered to the drawings. She uncrumpled them one by one. “These match. These numbers match.”
“They match what?” he asked.
“They match these cards. Zero is The Fool card. See? It even says so right here at the top. And thirteen is the number for the Death card—one and three. Nine is The Hermit. Zero, one, three, nine… Any idea what that is?”
“Fuck. I know I’m going to hate myself for saying this. But that’s not the right order of the numbers,” Gray said.
“What? How would you know any order?” she asked.
“Because I stayed up all night reading The Joy of Numerology… No, I don’t want to know any of this, but this old fucking nun that I’ve seen keeps saying these numbers over and over. Nine, zero, one, three. Nine, zero, one, three. I can’t fucking get her out of my head,” he said.
“A nun? Do you still have the medallion?” Inez asked. Gray opened the upper buttons of his shirt and began removing it from his neck to give back.
“No!” Inez said. “This is important. You’re the only one now.”
“The only one—what?” Gray asked.
“I can’t hear what the dead have to say any longer. I can’t pass into that world. But you… you can now,” Inez said. She gestured to the ceiling.
“Well fuck this shit, because it’s mental breakdown territory,” he said. He took the medallion off and placed it on the coffee table. Then he stood and moved away from it like it was a snake about to bite.
“Even if you set it down it…” Inez pointed to the ceiling again. “You can’t stop what it’s going to do. Now it’s you, Gray—not me. Now it has opened through you.”
“What the hell are you talking about? You left this at Lady Cherokee’s shop, and she gave it to me. That’s called a coincidence—she even tried to sell it to me. I thought it was a good gimmick, so I took it. But I want you to take it back, and I want this shit to stop.”
“Keep it, give it back, flush it down the toilet, Gray. It won’t matter. It will continue until it is done,” Inez said.
“You need to get some fucking psychiatric help, lady. Do you know how crazy you sound?” he asked. “Done with what? Huh? What?” He slapped his hand down atop the medallion, picked it up from the table, and held it from its chain. “Take it,” he said.
She obliged him. But then she reached for his other hand, opened his palm, and folded his fingers down across it again.
“Of course this is crazy,” she said. She waited until he could look at her again, then she told him, “She speaks with many voices, and her mouth… it opens so wide, and the teeth—so many teeth.”
Gray’s eyes looked like they turned silvery, the color people’s eyes turn in their old age before death. “How did you? How did you know?”
“I’ve seen her too. The nun. I’ve seen her, Gray,” she said.
He looked like Inez had shot him. But he nodded through the blinding confusion he felt rolling in like fog from a distant sea.
“This newspaper, this Purple People… I didn’t even know about it until I saw that thing again—last night—in my closet. She—it—that darkness led me to find it. It’s leading me now—and you too Gray,” Inez said. “And as crazy as I know it sounds, darkness always needs more. It wants you and me. All of us, if it could. And it will use any means it can. And believe me, it won’t stop. It won’t ever stop. It doesn’t care that you don’t believe, Gray—that you turn your back. In fact, that’s how it gets stronger. People looking the other way, choosing to ignore what they know is there—what they know is true. That’s how evil gets into the world. But it needs help to get in, so it’s leading us. And we can play along. Because wherever it leads is where I’m thinking we’ll find your Preston. And my Julia. Maybe they’re alive, Gray. Maybe they’re still alive.”
Gray thought about what the nun had told him—that Preston was burning in hell.
“He’s dead,” he mumbled.
“What? Why would you say--?”
“I said he’s dead. That fucking nun said it,” Gray replied.
Inez took his shoulders and looked at him straight on. “You listen to me. This kind of thing—it hides inside of lies and tricks. You hear me? If we’re going to do this—if we’re going to have any kind of chance—you need to learn the first lesson, which is not to listen to everything that’s dead. Just because it’s dead doesn’t mean it’s good.”
Gray’s eyes reddened, and he could feel an apple swelling up in his throat, choking up his ability to speak. He wanted to believe her. He wanted Preston to be….
“How can you say that?” he managed so whisper. “How can you say that he could be alive? You don’t know.”
“You’re right. I don’t. But I know that if he is alive, then Julia might be too,” she replied. “And we have to take that chance, because who else is helping? It’s just you and me. And right now, all we have is what you’ve seen, what I’ve seen, and some ink on a ceiling. And while it’s not much, it’s better than nothing, which is what we’re getting from the police.”
Gray didn’t know what to believe, except that Inez was ushering into his life a funhouse mirror-maze of insanity. But Inez knew more about all of this than he did. And if she was right… what if she was right?
“This isn’t enough,” he said. “Not for the police. Or for us. Not for anyone. We’ll need more than ink blots and random hallucinations.”
“We will need more. You’re right. And if I’m correct, that thing that’s visited us both will give us what we need each step of the way until we find it. Now… can we make that phone call?” Inez asked. She held up the newspaper.
eleven
Lockett
Blonde hair, blue eyes. Blonde hair, blue eyes . Inez kept repeating what the woman named Rachel had told her on the phone. That was her name—Rachel—the woman who picked up the phone. It crackled, like she was talking to someone on the far side of the moon, but she heard her sultry voice well enough.
Inez scanned the crowded bar, shaking her foot, trying not to allow the shaking below the ankle to take complete control of her body. She’d come. Blonde hair, blue eyes. Tall too. There were several women roaming, dancing, flirting, eyeing one another, but no one that fit Rachel’s description.
Inez had figured no one would answer when she called. As Gray had said, the advertisement was over a month old. She held the receiver with weak hands and found she was mute when a woman picked up. Inez felt dizzy and had to sit to keep from dropping to the floor—from screaming into the phone with questions about where Julia had gone.
There were rehearsals of what to say ahead of time. So much to say, so much to ask. But in the wake of Julia’s disappearance and the real horrors that invoked, her words choked out. This may have been the last person who saw Julia. She felt a residue of knowing, of the skill she’d had with the medallion’s help. But now it was like reading penciled writing after someone erased it. But the residue gave her a prickling feeling.
“Who is this again?” the woman asked.
“My name is Inez. I saw your ad, and I was just…” Inez said. She felt herself running short on ideas. The heartbeat pulsing in her throat eclipsed her script. She cleared her throat twice.
“You don’t have to say anything more, honey. I know what it’s like to make a call like this. Truth is, I don’t get calls on my ads anymore. Last one I placed was a month ago. Before that, it was 1972. Do you make calls? Like this?” the woman asked.
“I… I not really,” Inez said.
“Oh. I see. You visiting from the mainland?”
“I am,” Inez answered. She hoped it sounded convincing.
“Just for the night?”
“Just for the night,” Inez replied. She tried to sound natural.
“You sound pretty new to me. Can I give you some advice, honey? It’s important to fight the loneliness,” the woman said. Inez thought it strange for her to say. “People come and go. People. They come and they go. You have to get used to it.”
“Well, maybe we could meet at Aweigh,” Inez said. She hoped it wasn’t too quick to the punch. “Maybe we won’t have to be lonely—together. You’re on Catalina, right? The ad says you’re local. Do you know the bar?”
“You get to the point, don’t you? I like that. Why don’t we meet, nine o’clock on Thursday,” the woman said. “The bars get crowded this time of year. But look for me. I have blonde hair and blue eyes. Let me apologize ahead of time… I may be in my nurse’s uniform. I work at a hospital on the mainland. But I can see you on the way home from my shift. Sound good?”
She only had a sketch of a plan. Get a good visual of the woman who said her name was Rachel. Show her Julia’s pictures and wait for her reaction. Then take the matter to Quinn Campbell. He was the most receptive of the bunch at the sheriff’s station. Gray knew all of this was much too speculative, which was why he declined to accompany her. A circled advertisement was not proof of anything. And people were not put together well anymore. Such an encounter with a stranger was unpredictable.
Inez checked her watch for the umpteenth time. It was eleven o’clock. Two hours late. Just ten more minutes. That’s what Inez promised herself. But she’d broken that promise to herself at least six times already.
“You ordering or just taking up real estate?” the bartender asked.
Inez shrugged and slunk from the bar stool, headed to the pay phones in the back. She wanted to call her sister Carmela and hear her voice. She wanted her to know where she was in case—just in case.
Inez leaned against the red wall in the tight back hallway after dialing and listened to the ring tone.
Carmela would have closed up the botanica much earlier in the day, and it was strange that no one answered the phone at her house at this late hour. Hector had a strict policy of no phone calls after six o’clock. But he’d answer, just to see who might have the audacity enough to intrude on his evening. He picked up.
“Hello, Hector? It’s Inez.”
“Oh. I thought you were Carmela,” he said.
“Carmela, why would she be calling? She’s not there?” Inez asked.
“Look Inez, she shouldn’t be running around town, not in her condition,” Hector replied.
“So where is she?” she asked.
“I thought she was taking care of your cat in Pasadena. Why don’t you call there?” he asked.
She clacked down the plunger without saying more, and she dialed up the Pasadena house. Carmela didn’t answer. It was understandable that she’d be reluctant to take calls in a house not her own. She’d have to risk meeting the stranger without her sister knowing. There may not be a trail for Carmela to follow, but she’d play it safe. She’d stay mixed into the bar crowd.
“Line ‘em up. At least five of your best, Darlene.” That was the first thing Inez heard when she returned to the bar. A redhead with a flip hairdo and a neon swirl mini skirt stood behind Inez while the barkeep lined up five shot glasses and poured straight across.
“You see?” Darlene asked. She directed her comment to Inez. “This is how it’s done. Look. Listen. Learn.”
The redhead turned to the target of Darlene’s scorn.
“Don’t listen to her,” the redhead said. “Wait. What’d you order? A ginger ale?”
Inez gave a weak smile then returned to scanning the room for Rachel. Blonde hair, blue eyes.
“Care to join me?” she asked. She passed a shot glass toward Inez, who mumbled some kind of remark that was drowned out by the thumping disco, and she shook her head.
“Suit yourself,” the woman said. She took two of the glasses and knocked each of them down in single gulps. “I’ve seen that look before. Stood up?”
“I… uh…” Inez said. She thought of moving herself to another spot, closer to the stage. “I’m just… enjoying the room. How about you?” Inez asked.
“I’ll tell you what. I came here looking for my husband, Chase. You haven’t seen anyone running around in coveralls, have you? Or maybe coveralls and another woman?” She offered a wide grin. “The name’s Patsy.”
“Inez,” she responded.
“Tell you what: If I was one of these ladies looking for love, I’d find another spot. I’ve been coming here for the past six years, and I have seen no one yet that I’d take home. Not that I would, you know? But they’re always the same here. You get your folks coming in from the port of Los Angeles looking for a one-nighter, but they’re easy enough to spot. Like you. You’re not a face I’ve seen,” Patsy said. She reached forward to get another couple of shot glasses, and when she did so, a locket slipped from behind her blouse and dangled.
Inez’s heart felt like someone had bolted it with an electrical paddle. It looked like the locket she’d given Julia.
Patsy tossed back the rest of her drinks in succession then tucked the gold heart back inside her bouse.
“Not too many married women hang around this bar after hours,” Inez said.
“People are just people, right?” Patsy asked.
“That locket was so pretty. Unusual too. Was that an initial etched into the front?” Inez asked. She felt her breathing come fast and heavy.
“A nickname,” Patsy said. She drank the last of her shots.
“I’m here to meet a friend. I wanted to show her some pictures,” Inez said.
Patsy nodded. “Is that so?”
She turned and signaled Darlene to re-pour when Inez pushed a photo of Julia across the bar top. Patsy looked down at it.
Their eyes met, and Inez caught a glimmer—it passed as soon as it came. But there was the look of someone caught in a lie. Patsy pulled out of the gaze and waved for the bartender.
“Here hon,” Patsy said. “You mind my shot glasses, will you? Darlene’s gonna pour, and I’m going to freshen up.” Inez studied Patsy’s face, her movements.
“Just really quick before you go. Have you seen her? You said you came here a lot. You’ve probably seen people. Have you seen this woman? Her name is Julia.” Inez felt herself slipping into a screaming madness that she hoped Patsy couldn’t see. There was too much heat coming from her questions now, and it looked like Patsy felt it.
“No. I’m sorry.”
Patsy slipped off her bar stool and wound her way through the crowd. The room was stifling as more people filed in than Inez expected. She watched and couldn’t tell if it was the firecrackers of panic going off or the headache-inducing disco beat that made her feel like she was losing her mind.
Patsy disappeared down the hallway with the phones and bathrooms. Before long, an alarm sounded, and patrons cleared away. The bartender hurried toward the sound, and Inez followed.
Someone had flung the emergency exit wide, opening it to the back street. The bartender secured it and silenced the alarm.
Inez entered the women’s room only to find, as expected, Patsy was gone.
She pushed her way through the crowd until she reached the front door then lurched into the cold Catalina night. She closed her arms around her chest and saw her breath coming out in small clouds. The sidewalks and streets were slicked with moisture, and a fog had crept beneath the lamplights. The sidewalk was vacant. Unusual. There were always people smoking and chatting, escaping the crowds and the thundering noise. A cold glow from a single lamp outside the club illuminated enough of a path to the street corner.
There were no signs of Patsy. Inez paced the sidewalk, listening to how the fog muffled her footsteps. It felt for a moment like she’d swum too far from the pier and that she was in danger of getting swept out to sea, no one to help. But she was determined. Patsy would not have fled as she did, not after being shown photos.
She reached the corner and looked down the dark street. A single street lamp hid behind a leafy tree at the far end. Along the building, she eyed the closed emergency exit. Cars jammed together on that back street. Lamplight Street. At the very end of the block was a beat-up green van with a broad white stripe on its side. The island permitted few full-sized vehicles. Keeping the air clean and all. It seemed unlikely that the city would allow the dilapidated van.
