Drop Dead Beauty (6 page)

Rudie returned and nodded to a door in the back.

“Okay, let’s head upstairs while Momma is handling the rug rats down here.”

They went through the door and entered a stockroom with floor-to-ceiling shelves on three sides. Each shelf was jammed with ceramic pieces in various stages of readiness. At the back of the room they turned and went up a steep set of stairs that opened into an apartment on the second level.

The apartment was small and had an odd medicinal smell. They went to a kitchen nook in the front room and all sat down at a square table so small their knees touched beneath.

“Okay, lay it on me,” Rudie said.

“Well, Sadie’s a psychic medium who helps spirits move on when they’re stuck here after passing,” Maeva explained.

“Okay.” Rudie turned to Sadie. “These ghosts just show up to you and say ‘help’ and you go ‘okay’ and wave a magic wand, or what?”

“Um. No. That would be weird.” Sadie shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She wasn’t used to sharing her so-called talent with others. She preferred to keep it under wraps like the fact that she was suddenly craving a bacon and peanut butter sandwich. “I run a trauma-cleanup company and I get calls to clean up after deaths of all kinds, and occasionally there are lingering spirits. If they talk to me I’ll try and help them move on.”

“How do you help them?” he asked.

“If they have a reason for staying behind—like unfinished business or something—I’ll help with that, and then I just convince them to let go of this world, and usually it just happens.”

“And you’ve done this all your life?”

“No,” Maeva answered on Sadie’s behalf. “It started when her brother took his own life a few years ago. She was a grade school teacher before then and nobly accepted the calling of running a company called Scene-2-Clean to purify the physical and spiritual remains after someone passes from the physical world.”

“Thanks,” Sadie said. “That’s a really nice way to put it.”

“Sounds like a great way to make a living and still answer your calling,” Rudie said.

“It is.” Sadie nodded. “At least, it was.” She sighed. “Now things have gotten weird.”

Because talking to the dead really wasn’t weird to her anymore, but
feeling
them was—and that was the strangest thing of all.

Chapter 5

Maeva went on to explain Sadie’s situation to Rudie.

“Sadie’s pregnant and it’s messing with her senses. Now, in addition to seeing the spirits she also feels the pain of their demise. Obviously that’s a real drawback when you make your living cleaning up after the dead.”

“That must suck,” Rudie said, his eyebrows shooting upward.

“You have no idea the degree of suckage,” Sadie assured him. “Maeva tells me that this is basically a temporary situation due to pregnancy hormones, but I can’t afford to take time off work until this passes. I’ve gotta make hay while the sun shines and all that.”

“But in your case the hay is dead people and, sometimes, their ghosts?” Rudie stated. “Would anybody like tea?” He got up and filled up a kettle with water.

Maeva said she’d like a cup but Sadie passed because she hated tea and considered it the beverage of grief and despair. Rudie offered Maeva a choice of multiple flavors of teas and they discussed their favorites. Sadie got impatient and brought the conversation back to her own selfish motives.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but Maeva tells me you might be able to help with my problem. I’ve got a suicide to clean up and I’d love to be able to do it without experiencing a drug overdose myself.”

Rudie poured hot water into a teapot. “Fine,” he said curtly. “We’ll get the show on the road while the tea steeps.”

He got to his feet and straightened to his not-so-full height of four foot eleven, then crossed the room. He glanced over his shoulder at them.

“Well? Aren’t you coming?”

Sadie and Maeva got to their feet and followed Rudie down a short hall, where he used a key to open what Sadie assumed was the door to a bedroom.

“You’re very lucky to be invited into the inner sanctum,” Maeva whispered in Sadie’s ear as they stepped inside a pitch-black room. “Few ever have this kind of opportunity.”

Once inside the room Rudie flicked on a light that did little to brighten the dark gray flooring banked by equally near-black walls.

Sadie let out a low whistle as she stepped toward the middle of the room. She looked around at the floor-to-ceiling narrow shelving buried three and four deep with bottles and canisters of various sizes, shapes, and colors. The room was heavy with a musty, pungent stench that was a cross between expired luncheon meat and Hairy’s litter box. There was one small window in the room, but it was covered in room darkening curtains and only a small finger of light was able to sneak through.

In the center of the area was an island counter holding a large black cast-iron cauldron embossed with a pentagram.

“This room is like every horror movie I’ve ever seen,” Sadie commented, and her voice came out nasally as she pinched her nose against the strong aromas in the room.

Rudie rolled his eyes.

“Don’t say that,” Maeva said, chastising her. “The smell is only herbs and potions.”

“Maybe, but it smells like dog poo.”

“Sorry,” Maeva said to Rudie. “When you’re pregnant your sense of smell is heightened.”

“Never mind that.” Rudie waved a hand in the air as if Sadie’s opinion of the pungency of the room mattered diddly-squat. “Let’s get down to business.” He placed his hands on his hips and eyed Sadie up and down. “What do you think, Maeva? A ghost-expunging conjure bag? Like mine?”

“I don’t know. . . .” Maeva shook her head slowly. “Isn’t there some way that we can still allow her to see and talk to spirits? That way she could still help them go over. Could you just eliminate the intense feeling she gets experiencing their pain at death?”

“It might be possible,” Rudie said, climbing a metal step stool. While looking directly at Maeva, he reached up and behind him and precisely snagged a jar on the top shelf. “But something that specific could take days or even weeks to develop. I don’t got nothing like that just hanging around. I’d have to experiment.”

He hopped off the stool and placed the jar on the table next to the cauldron.

“I don’t have days or weeks!” Sadie exclaimed. “I’ve just recently pulled myself out of financial ruin. A few months ago I was behind in my mortgage payments and I was barely keeping food on my table. Luckily business picked up when Seattle had a rash of serial killers and gang shootings. Finally I’m ahead of the game. Now a fetus the size of a prune is threatening to drag me back to the poorhouse.”

She folded her arms across her chest and bit back tears. Then she drew in a deep, calming breath and watched Maeva and Rudie exchange concerned looks.

“I’ve just gotta be able to work,” Sadie begged.

“Well, then good thing Maeva brought you here because I
can
help. I might not be able to create something personalized but I can whip up a familiar spell pouch, and hopefully it will do the trick.”

“So no pain while I’m around the dead?” Sadie asked, her face brightening with the thought.

“Yup. It should eliminate
all
of your abilities as long as you’re wearing it.”

Rudie dragged his step stool across the room and climbed it again. He appeared to know where everything was without even having to look through the bottles and cans. He looked at Sadie while his fingers snaked behind him deep into the back of a shelf without disturbing a single one of the tightly packed bottles or jars. Once Rudie’s fingers grasped what they delved for, he pulled forward his prize: a red, square metal canister. He placed the tiny capsule next to the cauldron as well.

“So you said it will eliminate
all
my abilities. Does that mean no ghosts at all with this, um, spell or whatever?” Sadie asked.

“That’s the best I can do,” Rudie admitted. “With such little notice it would be difficult for me to concoct a specific potion and spell that would only remove your ability to feel the way that ghosts died. Lucky for you that I’ve done a banishing spell a number of times. I can whip this one up quicker than you can say
Schizonepeta tenuifolia
.”

Gee, I hope so. . . .

“You mean I’ll be able to work in peace and quiet for once? No supernatural beings vying for my attention? No more prattling poltergeists or babbling apparitions?” Sadie’s face lit up. “Count me in.”

“It’s not right to get rid of all your powers,” Maeva grumbled. “You were chosen to receive these talents for a reason. You serve a greater purpose . . . helping spirits move on.”

“I know that but everyone needs a vacation once in a while,” Sadie said.

“I guess it’s the best we can do while you come up with something better,” Maeva told Rudie. “And we’re grateful.”

“Absolutely! And, hey, if it takes you months or a year or two to come up with something more specific to my situation that’s fine with me,” Sadie added. “Take your time.”

“It shouldn’t take that long. It’s not like it’s Samhain or Beltain. Spirit stuff is kind of slow. Check in with me on a weekly basis and I can let you know how it’s coming. I’ll probably need you to test-drive a new potion for me to see if it works.” Rudie bent to retrieve a large bottle on a bottom shelf and put it with the others. “There could be some trial and error. It’s not like this is an exact science.”

“But in the meantime you’re going to make me one like yours? So if you’ve already got one of these conjure thingamajigs and it works for you then I’m good using the same one, right?”

“Doesn’t work that way,” Maeva said. “Rudie’s situation is . . . much different than yours.”

“Sure, because you have to deal with every ghost on your job that you come across. Could mean dozens each year, right?” Rudie said. “And I’ve gotta deal with one single powerful, but evil, bitch.”

Sadie looked confused.

“It’s my ex-wife, or as I like to call her my Hex of Strife.” Rudie smirked. “Long and short of it is, we had a bitter divorce that lasted longer than our marriage. In the end, I got the business and she was pissed about that. Then she ended up with a particularly aggressive kind of cancer and was dead a few weeks after our divorce was final.”

“That’s very sad,” Sadie said.

“Not really. She was, and still is, a vindictive whore. The only sad part is that on her death bed she vowed to haunt me for the rest of my life,” Rudie continued. “She wasn’t wicked in real life, but as a malevolent spirit she’s about as spiteful and vexed as they come.” He reached inside his shirt and pulled out a pale blue flannel pouch that he wore dangling from a fine leather string around his neck. “Without this conjure bag for protection, she would’ve either killed me or found a way to drive me into the nuthouse by now.”

Then Rudie threw back his head and giggled maniacally, making Sadie believe he was already traveling down that road to an asylum regardless of his little baggie.

Swiftly, Rudie became all business. He rubbed his hands together and, with an eager smile, went to work over his cauldron.

“It’s a simple potion, really.” He poured in green flakey leaves that remind Sadie of the stuff she smoked in college. “This is frogwort.”

He put the bottle down and picked up the jar that contained a black powdery substance. After unscrewing the lid of the vessel, he reached inside and pulled out a tiny metal shovel. Next he used the shovel and scooped up three helpings of the black powder and added it to the other powder, announcing, “This is graveyard dirt.”

“Like, from a cemetery?” Sadie asked.

“Not just
any
cemetery,” Rudie said. “This dirt is from the grave of a known witch buried in Highgate Cemetery in London.”

“You went all the way to England for that?” Sadie asked, awed.

“No. I don’t have time to go gallivanting all over the world for ingredients. I ordered it and had it shipped by FedEx.”

Rudie put aside the jar of black dirt and picked up the remaining container. He put on rubber gloves and then, using his thumbs, he popped the lid off the small metal canister and retrieved an even smaller corked bottle from inside. It took some wriggling but he managed to remove the cork. Immediately a putrid stench filled the air.

“Oh my God!” Sadie pinched her nose and blinked her eyes. “What the hell is that?”

“Devil’s dung,” he replied matter-of-factly. Rudie shook out a small amount of golden powder from the bottle on top of the other herbs in the cauldron. “That ought to do it.”

He recorked the bottle and placed it back inside its can and pushed the metal lid firmly back in place. He removed his gloves and chucked them into a nearby wastebasket. The smell in the room had lessened only slightly by his closing the herb bottle. Next, Rudie used a large wood spoon to stir the small amount of herbs. While he stirred he murmured something softly under his breath.

“I understand that lots of people believe herbs serve a medicinal purpose, but I don’t see how mixing frogwort, graveyard dirt, and devil’s dung will solve my problems,” Sadie said, struggling to keep the cynicism out of her voice.

“They won’t do anything on their own,” Maeva said. “If that was the case, anyone with an herb garden would be making potions. The ingredients need to be empowered.”

“That’s right,” Rudie said. He nodded to Maeva. “Will you help?”

“Of course.”

Maeva stepped forward and held her hands over the cauldron of mixed greenery and stinky stuff. Then she began to hum the theme song to
The Wizard of Oz
because apparently show tunes helped the medium get in touch with her inner talents. As often as Sadie had seen Maeva in action, she still couldn’t quite get used to it.

Rudie held his hands above Maeva’s and closed his eyes. As Maeva continued to hum, Rudie began to chant. Abruptly he stopped and opened one eye to regard Sadie.

“Are you feeling left out? I could totally write out the spell for you and you could recite it along with me,” he offered. “The more the merrier and all that.”

“I’m good,” Sadie responded quickly. “You go ahead and do your thing. I’m happy to watch.”

“Suit yourself.”

Rudie resumed chanting, Maeva continued humming, and Sadie inched a little closer to the door in case lightning was about to strike or flames began to shoot up from the cauldron or in case the spirit of some long-dead witch appeared and demanded the return of the topsoil from her grave.

Maeva stopped her humming but began moving her hands in a fluid, circular motion over top of the cauldron.

Then Rudie began to recite:

“The presence that stands upon the stairs,

The unseen hands that move the chairs,

The lights that play across the wall,

The stains that stay,

The plates that fall,

The mist, the chill, the wandering scents,

This gentle spell must speed them hence.

What is dark be filled with light, remove all spirits from Sadie’s sight,

Allow this enchanted protection purse,

To keep her talent from being her curse.”

Rudie and Maeva clapped their hands loudly and simultaneously at the end, causing Sadie to jump nearly five feet in the air. After congratulatory high-fives between Rudie and Maeva, the two concluded that all had gone well. Sadie stood there looking and feeling uncomfortable and having no idea how they could tell what had gone well. All she knew was that the smell of the devil’s dung had permeated her sinuses and suddenly she had a craving for sushi.

Sadie watched as Rudie scooped the contents from the cauldron into a black flannel bag and then pulled the drawstring tightly closed. Next he went to a shelf and withdrew a long dark nylon cord from a shoe box. He tethered the cord around the pouch and tied it necklace-style around Sadie’s neck. It fell just between her breasts, so that a distinct and foul odor rose up to her nostrils.

“I can’t wear this around my neck,” she insisted, her eyes beginning to water. “It reeks!”

“Well, you don’t have to wear it
all
the time,” Rudie said with a shrug. “Not like me. I have to wear my banishing charm all the time or my Hex of Strife would drive me around the bend, but that’s me. You’re luckier. You can just wear yours whenever you expect to encounter a ghost at work.”

“So when I’m on the job I can wear it and everything is kosher, but the rest of the time I’m good to go without it?”