Bad Seed

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

He’d hoped things would be clearer in the morning but Sean woke just as confused. The moment he opened his eyes, he felt the headache—groaning, he rolled over and checked the time. After ten. He never slept in that late. Of course, he also never tended to drink so much caffeine so late at night, or have so many nightmares, or randomly get kissed by coffee shop owners.

And he was pretty sure there had been a ghost.

He pulled on a robe and shuffled into the kitchen, his stomach churning at the sight of the coffee pot. He drank a glass of water instead, then went to the fridge for orange juice and some eggs. He yawned, cooked, and took his food to the end of the table not piled with papers, folders, and books. Sean ate, scrolling through social media on his phone, and tried to forget about everything.

Mindless time fillers didn’t work, nor did going through papers. Still, he forced himself to get his work done, do a few mundane chores, go out for a drink, but by the time Sunday morning rolled around, Sean knew he wasn’t going to be able to let any of this weird s**t drop. He very much doubted his memory of the ghost, but he didn’t doubt what he’d seen in the basement of Crypt Coffee—or that the owner had kissed him and told him to go home.

Dane openly sneered at him when he reached the bottom of the stairs and entered the coffee shop. He seemed surprised to see Sean. Good. When he went up to the counter to order, Dane moved over to assist the barista and locked eyes with him. Dark, calculating eyes. Sean remained calm.

“Back for more, professor?” he asked, words loaded. Sean swallowed.

“Just, ah, a Dhai Latte, please.” Sean pronounced it to rhyme with chai, which was all it was.

“Please,” said Dane, almost mocking him. “I like the way you order.”

“To go,” said Sean, firmly, and Dane smirked.

“Not going to stick around for another kiss?”

“People can hear you,” hissed Sean, but that only seemed to improve Dane’s mood.

“I figure if you’re back here you must’ve liked it.”

“Yes, well, I didn’t, as it happens.”

“Really?” asked Dane, and leaned up close across the counter. Sean refused to back down, Dane’s face only inches from his, but he could feel a flush creeping up his neck. This was embarrassing, knowing everyone in the place could see—and most could hear—what was going on. But damn, Sean kind of liked it, too. When Dane handed him his latte in a to go cup with skull and crossbones on it, Sean left without looking back.

He took it out into the cemetery. There weren’t any paths from Crypt Coffee’s parking lot, but the place wasn’t fenced, either, so Sean just walked onto the grass. Like most cemeteries, there was a decent mix of older and newer stones, everything from embellished granite obelisks to worn limestone rectangles barely larger than a couple of bricks.

Sean hadn’t been among the dead like this in a long time. The breeze blowing in from the Blue Falls River was refreshing but also made the place creepier, dropping the temperature a good five degrees at least. Sean drank, the warmth from the latte reviving him, and wandered down to the water. A series of benches in memory of a collection of departed people lined the path at the river’s edge and he selected one to sit, staring, across the water at the park opposite. It was peaceful here, a good place to be buried.

When he finished his drink, he got up and wandered back through the headstones, looking for a garbage can. Sean wasn’t really sure what he was hoping to find out here, maybe some satisfaction that what he thought he’d seen on Friday wasn’t real. If he could go out into a cemetery alone and fail to meet a ghost, he could write off the thing he’d seen floating through Crypt Coffee.

Just as he was beginning to think he’d need to go back into the coffee shop to pitch his cup, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned, thinking he’d seen something pushing up dirt. A fresh grave by three pine trees was moving, slightly, and Sean walked toward it. Moles, he told himself, but he wanted to confirm it. The soil continued to move as he approached and glanced at the gravestone.

Eliza Bartley, not recently buried at all. Sean gaped at the dates on the lichen-covered stone, mind running through possibilities. Could the grave look fresh because of robbers? That didn’t seem likely—more the sort of thing to happen in books or a bad movie.

Tiny off-white things pushed up through the soil and Sean blinked at them, mind struggling to comprehend what he was seeing even as the hand emerged fully, ghostly flesh just visible around the bones. His breath caught in his throat. A skull started to come up.

“You were supposed to be handled,” said a voice, and then Sean felt someone shove his shoulder. He stumbled back as the whatever-it-was pulled its torso up out of the grave. The ghost from Friday night hovered before Sean, looking annoyed instead of pleasantly dapper. He shoved Sean again, frowning when Sean backed up toward the trees.

Sean opened his mouth to swear, maybe, then closed it again. He struggled to process what was happening.

“Go on, get out of here,” said the ghost. The thing in the grave brushed more dirt off and he flicked a glance at her. “You can’t be stupid enough to stick around.”

“What,” managed Sean, but the ghost was glaring at the animated skeleton now.

“Eliza, you have terrible timing,” he said. The skeleton-ghost made a noise like breathing in and Sean could swear she was draining his energy. The ghost flickered and sighed. “Don’t go anywhere,” he said, then to Sean, “Except for you. I recommend you run.”

He flew off in the direction of Crypt Coffee. Sean gaped at him only briefly—Eliza was unearthing her bone-ghost-leg-things, and when she’d finished with that, he figured he was screwed. Running really was the only option. Which was unfortunate, because at the moment Sean just couldn’t get his feet to move. Whether it was fear, or disbelief, or shock, he didn’t know, but by the time he wrenched himself away, she was free and reaching out toward him.

Sean didn’t scream, but he did drop his empty cup when she grabbed him by the throat and hauled him off his feet. He saw stars as she slammed him up against a pine tree. Needles showered down around him, passing through her, and Eliza opened her mouth to draw in that energy-sucking breath again. It was then Sean realized he was going to die.

“f**k off,” shouted Dane, suddenly there and swinging the shiniest machete Sean had ever seen.

Eliza’s ghostly form fled the skeleton an instant before the blade struck, showering Sean with bones. He gasped, freed.

“f*****g ghosts always pulling s**t in daylight.”

Sean mouthed thanks at Dane, hands at his throat, but the man wasn’t looking at him. Over his shoulder the other ghost hovered, observing solemnly.

“The f**k did she go, Ned?” asked Dane.

“I’m having difficulties at the moment.”

Dane snarled and began hacking at the fresh dirt on the grave. Sean blinked hard, brain still trying to process everything, keep up. One of the ghosts was bad. The other was…good? Someone Dane knew, at least. Whatever that meant. He was still trying to work it all out when the trees behind him lurched and pulled him to them. This time he screamed.

“s**t,” said Dane, leaping up and swinging with the machete as limbs wrapped around Sean, slowly crushing him. Needles and bark pressed against his skin, pricking, scraping, and he struggled. Chunks of bark and then wood flew as Dane hacked.

“She’s possessed all three of them,” said Ned. “It’ll take too long to chop him out.”

“First pigeons, now trees. I hate you damned ghosts.” Dane took several more swings at the pine, Sean feeling his eyes pop as the breath was squeezed out of him. Ned was right. No way could Dane hack him out in time. For the second time in less than five minutes, Sean realized he was going to die.

“Dane…” began Ned.

“Shut up,” snarled Dane, and stepped back. He dropped the machete to the ground, pulled a gun from his pants, and pointed it almost directly at Sean. If he’d had any breath left he’d shout, but Sean could only watch. Splinters flew as Dane unloaded the entire gun into the tree, then calmly reloaded the weapon. Sean’s vision was going, his hearing, too, he figured, since Dane unloaded the gun a second time into the trees and the sound seemed so distant.

Sean was about to pass out, and he figured he wasn’t going to wake up.

“Why the hell is she so strong, Ned?” asked Dane, words reaching Sean as a whisper.

“…stole some…my energy too…”

Sean gasped like a fish, unable to breathe, and then the tree limbs let up and he slid to the ground. He couldn’t move, and he could barely breathe, but he felt a hand on him, could tell Dane was checking him to see if he was still alive. With what little breath he had, Sean laughed.

“Bastard thinks it’s all a joke,” said Dane, releasing him and straightening. “f**k off, Ned, and I’ll feed him some bullshit. We’ll talk later.”

“No,” said Sean. “Don’t bother.”

“I don’t think you’ll be able to kiss away any of this,” said Ned.

“Yeah, well I could try,” said Dane.

Sean felt Dane’s shoe tapping his foot. Maybe he was wondering whether Sean was really alive.

“I get her or is she still around?”

“As far as I can tell, she’s incapacitated,” said Ned.

Sean blinked and stared into the ghost’s face as he hovered in front of him at ground level. He wasn’t even shocked anymore. “Best to burn everything, obviously. This one will live. Inconvenient for you.”

“Inconvenient if he died.” Dane picked up the machete and began circling the trees, hacking off random limbs and branches. Sean caught his breath enough to push himself up to a sitting position and glance around. Bones, pine needles, and wood chips littered the ground. The trees themselves were studded with bullets that glinted silver in the afternoon light. The smell of resin, sweat, and Dane’s gun was heavy in the air, and while some of the stickiness on Sean’s limbs and face was pine sap, the rest of it was his blood. The trees had cut him up, and his chest hurt bad enough for him to wonder if he should get checked out for cracked ribs.

“What the hell just happened?” he asked. Dane glanced over at him, looking pissed, and Ned moved a safe distance away to hover.

“I did tell you to run,” said the ghost.

“Like this i***t would’ve listened,” said Dane, then, “You got yourself into some s**t, professor. Lucky you’re still alive. Tree didn’t bust you up too bad, did it?”

“I hope not,” said Sean, and took the hand Dane offered. “s**t!” He staggered on his feet and clutched at his ribs, then pulled up his shirt. A dark patch spread under his skin.

“Bruised. Well done, you got your ass kicked by a tree.”

Sean glared at him and let his shirt fall back down.

“I want to know what’s going on,” he said.

“Can’t you just go the f**k away and sleep it off?” asked Dane. Sean stared at him until he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Right. What’s going on is this: I’m going to shoot these trees a couple more times, then I’m driving you to my place up the road and you’re getting cleaned up. If you’re not too much a pain in my ass, I’ll give you an explanation. Got it?”

Sean nodded. He was too tired and sore to object.