Dead Endings Book 2: Chapter 3

It was almost half past eight by the time they reached North 6th Street in Williamsburg. The sun was beginning its slow dip behind the squat brick roofs dotting the borough, and peeks of the East River gleamed off the thirty floors of the Edge apartment development in the distance. Williamsburg hummed with the beginnings of the dinner and drinks crowd, but to Cailen’s disappointment, Gabriella turned away from the cocktail-studded end of the block to lead them to a dingy two-story affair with battered blue eaves. The equally battered sign over the door read: COIN LAUNDRY.

Cailen narrowed her eyes at Gabriella. “I thought you said it wasn’t a laundry.”

Her friend merely smiled and beckoned them on.

“Why doesn’t any of this supernatural stuff happen on the West Side?” Everett grumbled as he followed.

As they stepped into the entryway of the brightly lit shop, they were met by the curious gaze of a middle-aged Indian woman in a Mets jersey behind a service counter. The steady thrum of cycling washers and industrial-sized dryers gently vibrated the concrete walls.

“Oh…!” she said as she spied Gabriella. “Haven’t seen you in a long time!”

Gabriella smiled at her. “Hi, Indira. Just dropping in to see Ruben. How’re things?”

The Indian woman waved her arms in an aimless fashion over the rumbling machines. Though several loads appeared to be in progress, no customers occupied the shop. “Very exciting, as you can see,” she said dryly. “But this… New faces! Now that’s exciting.” She clapped her hands together like a giddy schoolgirl. “And if you plan on taking them in, you know the rules.”

“Oh, right. Um…” Gabriella turned back to Cailen and Everett. She looked from one to the other, hesitated. Cailen raised an inquiring eyebrow at her.

“Just…follow your senses,” Gabriella said as she drew them both forward.

“Indira, this is Cailen, my roommate. And Everett, a friend.”

“Yo,” Cailen said with a wave. Everett shook her hand.

Indira studied them, eyes twinkling.

“I’ll start with you, I think,” she said to Cailen. Her dark eyes crinkled at the sides. “I have a question.”

Cailen suddenly felt transported back to the fifth grade, when she’d been called to the front of the class to do a math problem on the board. And she sucked at math.

“My grandmother,” Indira began, “was a well-traveled woman. Before coming here, she visited many places. As you can see…” Indira pointed to numerous framed pictures that bordered the door and walls. The photographs–some color, some black and white–were of buildings, monuments, and landscapes. Cailen leaned toward one and tried to decipher the loopy, angular handwriting at the bottom. The Coliseum, 1964, she thought it said.

“Which memory,” Indira continued, voice heavy with drama, “is my grandmother’s favorite?”

“Uh…come again?”

Indira just smiled enigmatically and steepled her fingers on the countertop. She began to hum a little tune.

Cailen looked to Gabriella for some kind of clue, but she had her face buried in the palm of her hand–either laughing or embarrassed. Cailen wasn’t sure which. She turned back to Indira, intending to ask for more instructions, when her sixth sense started twitching. Tingling energy whispered at the back of her neck like a draft from an open window. She turned her head and took a step back to get the widest view of the laundromat possible. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Cailen slowly extended her senses. Her consciousness trailed in and out of discarded baskets, around the thrumming wall of machines, and over the smooth concrete floors. Indira’s wordless tune faded into the background…Cailen was rewarded almost immediately as she came into contact with something. The ticklish sensation increased as she narrowed her focus to a derelict-looking vending machine next to a change dispenser. There, by the selection panel, she spied movement. She waited expectantly as a spirit shifted in and out of focus. As the facial features clarified, Cailen’s eyebrows rose along with her surprise.

“Your grandmother has a moustache…”

Everett gasped.

“…and remembers her trip to Mountain Dew most fondly,” she finished dryly.

Indira burst out laughing.

“It’s a guy in a trilby,” Gabriella explained to a bewildered-looking Everett. “He’s behind the Coke machine.”

Everett’s head whipped around to stare at the machine. His jet black eyes could have bored holes in the plastic front, but even when the spirit drifted away to a stack of detergent boxes, his gaze remained fixed. Cailen cleared her throat and pointed at the apparition’s new location.

“All I smell is cigarettes and gas everywhere,” he grumbled.

It was Indira’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

“He can’t see them,” Gabriella said. “Smell only. I know. It’s weird.”

“Hmmm… I don’t know. That’s not really definitive, dear. If I can’t test him, he can’t go in.”

“C’mon, Indira. I vouch for him. He’s legit.” Indira sucked on her teeth, unmoved. “You remember what happened the last time we hand-waved it. We ended up with a laughable ‘expose’ in the New York Post, and Ruben almost got shut down. No can do, I’m afraid.”

“But I really can smell spirits!” Everett insisted. “Your guy smells like an ashtray dipped in diesel.”

Indira shrugged. “So does my husband. Sorry, kid. You don’t look old enough to drink, anyway.”

Everett turned pleading eyes on Gabriella. “You can’t leave me!” he begged in a low voice. “There’s some kind of cool, supernatural people club down there, isn’t there! Please, Gabriella! Do something!”

She chewed on her lip. “Indira, if you just ask Ruben, I’m sure–”

“He’ll fix your vending machine,” Cailen interrupted.

They all looked at her.

“What?” Indira asked.

Cailen walked up to the aged Coke machine and pushed at the buttons. Though it was plugged in, the machine’s face was unlit and the LED panel unresponsive.

“I bet it’s preeeeetty expensive to get one of these things fixed, right? I know I wouldn’t want to foot the bill for something like that. I’m sure Ev would be willing to help out a fellow sensitive, though.”

Indira hmmmmmm-ed. “He’ll fix my vending machine, huh?”

“I will fix your vending machine,” Everett repeated woodenly.

She clapped her hands together. “All right! Don’t make me regret this, Gabriella. You’re responsible for him.”

Gabriella nodded at her.

“We’ll talk later, kid,” Indira said to Everett with a wink. He gave her a sickly smile as Gabriella steered them to what looked like a utility closet.

“Watch your step,” Gabriella warned as she pushed her way in past some precariously loaded metal shelving units. “Last time I was here, a bucket fell on my head.”

Cailen followed her cautiously into the tight space. Stacks of moldering detergent boxes were piled to the ceiling, while equipment odds and ends jostled on the shelves. Her curiosity turned further toward incredulity as Gabriella elbowed a couple of mops to one side–she wondered if there really was some kind of supernatural club waiting for them like Everett thought, because at the moment, it felt like they were venturing into Narnia through some back-alley portal.

Cailen looked over her shoulder to gauge his reaction. Everett was shuffling slowly in after her. His head was slightly bowed, but she could make out downturned lips and a general air of gloominess.

“Why the long face?” she asked him. “You got in, right?”

He looked up. An uncharacteristic line marred his brow. “Ha,” he said. “Only thanks to my vending-machine-fixing ‘ability.’”

“And it’s a very valuable ability to have!” she joked.

“I’d rather people took my actual ability seriously.”

Cailen raised a finger. “Cheer up, Ev. If there is a bar down there, I’ll buy you a drink.”

His answering grunt was noncommittal.

“Ah!” Gabriella said suddenly, snapping them both back to attention. “There it is.”

There was a click and a scraping noise, and an opening appeared at the back of the room. It revealed wan light from a dusty bulb over a descending set of stairs. Cailen peeked over Gabriella’s shoulder and gaped at the hidden entrance. The door she’d opened was a crude rectangle…a crude, fridge-sized rectangle cut directly into the plasterboard that made up the rear wall. An old brass ring attached at waist-level was the only indication that it was a door at all.

“What the hell is this place, Benitez?”

Gabriella grinned back at them. “Welcome to The Laundry, guys. Brooklyn’s one and only basement hangout for the spiritually inclined.” She started down the stairs. “It used to be an old speakeasy from the Prohibition Era. Ruben bought it off Indira and her husband. He’s been running it for…seven years now?”

“Did the New York Post really do an article on this place?” Everett asked, excitement returning to his voice.

“Sure did.” Gabriella snorted. “Full page, right there next to ‘Vampire Baby Born to Woman in Yonkers!’ Don’t believe Indira’s outrage, though. She loved that part. It was the possibility of being hit with fines for running a bar in her basement that she didn’t like. Luckily, Ruben was able to smooth that over.”

“Who’s Ruben?” Cailen asked, but they’d reached the bottom and Gabriella just waved them on. They continued down a narrow hallway and pushed open another door–this time, a real one. They stepped into a softly lit space.

The Laundry, Cailen decided, was far too nice for a basement waterhole. Old wood, stained and faded but scrubbed to a gleaming finish, lined the walls and swept back along narrow counters. The polished timber dazzled on tabletops and beams, under the homely glow of a pair of beautifully wrought iron chandeliers. It was the kind of place where you could sit for hours, nestled into the bar with a drink, free from the judging rays of the evil sun. A place to relax and forget, she thought.

A low murmur of voices–mixed with the ever-present hum of the washers and dryers above–quieted as they entered.

Undaunted by the eyes that were now on them, Cailen stepped around Gabriella to get a better view of the bar. It was sandwiched between two thick pylons of dappled mahogany and tended by a large man with an impressive salt-and-pepper beard. She sighed happily as she spied bottles shelved from counter to ceiling behind him.

The man had been chatting with a stout woman with unnaturally red hair, but both eyed the newcomers now. His face crinkled into a smile.

“Gabriella!” he bellowed.

“Billy!” Gabriella bellowed back. She bounded forward and hugged him.

“Been a while,” he said. “Thought you forgot about us.”

“I was here last month!”

He shook his head sadly. “Weeks upon weeks upon weeks. Poor Ruben thought his best pupil had abandoned him.”

Everett shot Cailen a look, but she could only blink at this information. All of this was new to her. As she silently surveyed the numerous people in the bar, she began to realize just how in the dark she had kept herself from the supernatural side of things.

“Well, I’m actually here to see him,” Gabriella said with a smile. “He around?”

Billy hooked a thumb in the direction of the back area. “Office. Want me to get him?”

“No, it’s okay. We’ll grab a drink and catch him when he comes out.”

“All right. What’ll it be, then? And who’re your friends? Always happy to have some new faces around here, since we can’t seem to get rid of some of the old ones…” he grumbled.

An old woman at the other end of the bar with her head drunkenly on the countertop gave him the finger.

“This is Cailen,” Gabriella said. “And this–”

“Everett Jung,” said Everett, practically leaping across the bar to shake Billy’s hand. “I smell dead people.”

Billy blinked. “And what would you like to drink, son?”

Everett’s eyes grew moist. “Rum and coke, please.”

After securing their drinks, Gabriella led them to a small table in the corner where they had a good view of the room. Cailen could still feel the curious glances of the other patrons on them, but somehow it didn’t bother her as much as it usually would. She was eyeballing them just as much, albeit more discreetly.

“So everybody here has some kind of sense?” she asked Gabriella.

Gabriella’s curls bobbed as she nodded. “Yup. And Ev, just a heads-up, but it’s not really considered polite to ask people what they do. I think you made Billy’s day blurting out your ability.”

The tips of his ears flushed pink. “Why? If everyone here has one, I thought it’d be, you know, more…open?”

“Not everyone is as comfortable with their ability as you.”

“Or as enthusiastic,” Cailen grinned over her ice. “But I’ll admit, I’m curious. I wasn’t expecting so many people…”

When Cailen had come to terms with the things she saw, she’d naturally wondered if there were others like her. She’d gone through two dark, lonely years before her family moved and she transferred schools, and during that period she’d not met a single one. Gabriella had been the one to seek her out. And without her friend’s understanding and protection from her own abilities, Cailen wasn’t sure she would have survived. She almost hadn’t, actually, and she’d always suspected quite a few other people with “abilities” didn’t, either.

Gabriella hummed thoughtfully around the edges of her drink. “There are more of us out there than you’d think. Most people just keep their heads down and try to live a normal life. These people here are more the ‘past giving a shit’ crowd, though. The cool ones even try to operate out in the open,” she finished proudly.

“I’m sorry, G, but the business cards will never be cool,” Cailen informed her.

She got hit upside the head with a coaster for that.

“Anyway,” Gabriella continued, “there’s actually a pretty big variety of talents here. Over there…” She gestured minutely with her glass to a pair of middle-aged men deep in conversation at a far table. “That’s Ambrose and Tim. Ambrose is a bit like Cailen. He can sense, see, and hear spirits. Tim’s audio-only, though.”

“There,” she said, nodding at the old woman still dozing at the bar, “is Amelia. I’m not quite sure what she can do, but she can at least read auras. She used to fleece a bunch of the guys at cards before they cottoned on. Aura reading’s not one of the more common abilities.”

Cailen leaned over to whisper in Everett’s ear. “And that’s why I never play poker with Gabriella. She cheats.”

Gabriella sniffed and continued. “The woman in the corner reading a book is Sarah. She bills herself as a clairvoyant on one of those late night channels, but I haven’t actually seen her in action. Billy, who you met, has a little bit of precognition, and Indira, as you might have guessed from her ‘test,’ can actually attract spirits when she hums or sings.

“And the waste of air coming to our table can do what’s called ‘automatic writing,’” she finished flatly.

Cailen had been following the approach of the ‘waste of air’ since he’d left the bar with his beer. His pointed stare and twisted smile had been kind of hard to miss. He was lean and lanky and possibly thought wearing all black was fashionable. Curly dark blond hair fell over pale blue eyes that didn’t waver from Gabriella’s face.

“Gabriella… Long time no see.”

“Conner,” Gabriella said. There was no invitation to talk further in her tone.

“Not going to introduce me to the newbies?”

“Hadn’t planned to.”

He laughed softly through his nose and turned to Everett, extended his hand.

Everett automatically rose and shook it, then hesitated. He looked to Gabriella. She shrugged. “Everett,” he said. “Everett Jung.”

“Yeah, the ghost sniffer. I heard,” Conner said.

Cailen thought she detected an air of sarcasm in that statement. Everett’s tentative smile slipped a little.

Next, Conner turned to her. His eyes lingered on her face.

“Conner Abblet,” he said. The hand came forward once more.

“Cailen,” she replied. She stared at the hand until he withdrew it.

He shrugged and took a sip of his beer. “Just saying hello. Always nice to meet others with the talent.”

Gabriella folded her arms. “We’re trying to have a conversation here, Conner. If you don’t mind…?”

“Sure thing,” he said. “Oh, but before I leave, Jan is looking for you.”

She scoffed. “Right. Like Jan and I have anything to talk about.”

Conner turned his palms up in acquiescence. “Whatever you say, but he’s been in and out of here all week asking about you.”

“What does he want?”

Conner looked back over his shoulder, at a table where two younger men in green trackies spoke in hushed voices over a bottle of liquor. “Guess you’ll find out soon enough,” he said with a smirk as he left.

“Obnoxious jerk,” Gabriella muttered at his retreating back.

When he was out of earshot, Cailen asked, “What’s his deal?”

Her friend’s brow creased. “Old history. Remember my cop friend who helped us out with Elizabeth and the playback thing last year?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, Conner used to moonlight for his department until he got caught lifting stuff from the scene of a crime he was supposed to be helping with. They cut him loose and he’s been up my grill ever since I started lending a hand. The way he tells it, I ‘stole’ his gig. Creep.”

Everett was awed. “The cops use people like us?”

“Sometimes,” Gabriella said smugly.

Cailen was less impressed. “Nine out of ten ghosts are useless, if they even bother to linger. Gabriella’s just a cop groupie.”

“I am not! I like fire fighters, too!”

“One or both, you’re still an embarrassment.”

Everett cut in eagerly. “And what about this Ruben guy we’re waiting for? Who is he? What can he do? Billy said you were his pupil. Is he a teacher? Can I ask him stuff for my book?”

Gabriella threw up her hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down, Ev. One thing at a time.”

Cailen laughed. “I’m with Ev. This is the first I’ve heard of the guy. You never mentioned having a teacher to me. Some friend you are.”

“If you recall, you wanted nothing to do with this kind of stuff until a few months ago.”

“Touché.”

“Well, first, he’s an accountant, not a teacher. Or was, anyway. He’s an old friend of the family. He showed me a couple of things back when I was a kid. After my grandfather died, I didn’t really have anyone else to talk to about this stuff, so my father asked Ruben to mentor me a little.”

Everett’s notebook was suddenly out. He scribbled furiously as Gabriella talked. “Your grandfather could see ghosts?”

“Yup. You could say it runs in the family. Seeing stuff from the other side tends to be hereditary.” She glanced sideways at Cailen. “Generally speaking, anyway.”

Everett chewed on his pencil eraser. “My aunt could supposedly see things. She died before I was born, though, so I’m not a hundred percent sure. But that’s really interesting. Maybe it’s something in our DNA…?” He scribbled faster.

“Never really thought about it,” Gabriella said thoughtfully. “It’s just a thing–a family tradition. At any rate, Ruben taught me a lot of stuff about aura reading and how to deal with spirits.”

“Is he an exorcist, too?” Cailen wanted to know.

Gabriella shook her head. “His talent is pretty unusual, but it’s more related to auras than wiping ghosts. That’s kind of why I want to talk to him. I have an idea about what to do with the kid, but I wanted to run it by him first.”

“Run what by me?” rumbled a voice. A slight man in his mid-50s with snow white hair and a neatly waxed mustache strolled up to their table. He wore a dark blue vest with a small silver pin fixed to the lapel; leather wing-tipped brogues shone under single-pleated slacks. The nails on the hand stroking his mustache were trimmed so precisely that they looked manicured.

Cailen heard Everett make a complimentary noise, and she had to echo his sentiment. She’d put some effort into her hair and outfit that night, but the man made her feel downright sloppy by comparison.

“Ruben!” Gabriella stood and buried him in a hug.

“Hello, ’Ella,” he said, straightening his vest. “You look well.”

“Not as well as you,” she commented with a grin.

He smiled back. “Just enjoying my retirement, my dear. Billy told me you wanted to speak with me, but I see you have company. Introduce me to your friends?”

Cailen and Everett both stood and proffered their hands. Ruben’s grip was firm and warm, and as he took each hand, his eyes twinkled with some undisclosed insight. Cailen wondered what he saw with his sixth sense.

“A pleasure,” he said smoothly, and sat at Gabriella’s gesture. “Now, what was it you needed, my dear? Another case with the police? Or is it more trouble with gentlemen?”

He conspiratorially leaned over to Everett. “She does rather have difficulty with men,” he said loudly enough for everyone to hear.

Gabriella turned scarlet. “It’s about a boy,” she said hurriedly, then realized what that sounded like. “A boy with an unusual ability.”

“Oh? What kind of ability?”

“He seems to be able to…take ghosts from their territory. Like, leash them and drag them around.”

Her mentor frowned. “He ‘drags’ them around?”

“Kind of like balloons,” Cailen offered. “They float above him and they’re connected by these string thingies.”

“Aura to aura,” Gabriella said meaningfully.

Ruben shook his head. “Spirits are fixed to their places of attachment. Emotions, memories, energy… There are many ties that anchor them in place.”

“Whatever he does, they’re not stuck anymore.”

“It’s like he tears them off their spot,” Everett explained. “There were pieces of this one ghost all over the corner.”

“They were definitely…worse for wear,” Gabriella agreed.

“So he keeps these spirits captive?”

Cailen crossed her arms. “Until he decides to sic one on you, anyway.”

Ruben looked slightly alarmed at this.

“It was a poltergeist,” Gabriella told him. “I tried to talk to the kid, but he blew his top and dropped it on us in the middle of a coffee shop.”

“That’s not possible,” Ruben said, but he didn’t sound all that certain. He leaned back in his chair and was silent for a few moments.

Cailen thought back to the power and fury of the spirit when it had been unleashed. Like Markle’s unfocused rage, it had simply struck out at whatever was nearest. The feel of the thing had been every bit as chaotic as its actions, too: broken down, shredded, mindless. She remembered the misshapen ball that had once been the man in the horn-rimmed glasses on the corner of 7th and 3rd Street. It wasn’t just possible, it was ugly stuff. That kid did not play nicely with his toys at all.

“What color were these…balloons?” Ruben asked Gabriella.

“You mean the spirits’ auras?”

Ruben made a rounded shape with his hands. “The outline of the manifestation.”

Gabriella opened her mouth, then closed it again. “It was a reddish purple,” she said slowly.

“And there you have it,” Ruben said, stroking his mustache.

“So it might actually work, then…” Gabriella muttered to herself.

Everett looked at Cailen, who shrugged.

Gabriella seemed deep in thought and didn’t explain, so Ruben took pity on them.

“When we say we see ‘auras,’” he began, “we see an array of colors. Blues and greens, reds and yellows… A rainbow surrounds each and every person. These colors change and darken or lighten based on mood, health, or personality. Learning to read those patterns can tell you a lot about a person.”

“Like when to bet or bluff in poker,” Cailen grumbled.

Ruben smiled. “Yes, exactly. In death, our auras remain, but the colors leave us. Spirits have auras, but they’re mere shadows of what they used to be–shades of gray and light.”

Cailen considered this. “They do sort of glow.”

“So you’re saying that these ghosts have had their auras changed somehow?” Everett asked.

Ruben shook his white head. “You cannot bring the dead back. Once an aura loses all of its color, that’s it.”

“Then it’s the kid,” Cailen said. “The color Gabriella saw was from his aura. He’s got these ghosts all wrapped up in it somehow.”

“That would be my best guess,” Ruben mused. “It would certainly be an unusual ability, but I can’t think of any other way for a person to ‘drag’ a spirit.”

Gabriella suddenly pushed away from the table and stood up. “Thanks, Ruben. I think I have what I need now.”

“But I haven’t even heard about your love life yet!” Ruben objected.

She leaned over and hugged him. “Promise I’ll be back next week to tell you all about it. I want to get home and start working on this right away.”

“Just be careful, my dear. Children aren’t always able to reason what’s right and what’s wrong. That makes them very dangerous.”

He rose, as did Cailen and Everett.

“It was nice to meet you both. I hope you’ll return to The Laundry soon.”

“Absolutely!” Everett said. Cailen murmured her agreement as she stared longingly at the beer taps on the bar.

After a quick farewell to Billy, they were soon pushing their way past the mops and detergent cluttering the storage room entrance at the top of the stairs.

“If you’re going to drag us away from the booze, the least you could do is explain what your idea is,” Cailen grumbled as she shouldered her way through the door to the laundromat. She immediately ran into Gabriella, who had exited first. Everett ran into Cailen’s back.

Gabriella stood still just outside of the room. Her arms were crossed and her stance meant business to Cailen’s trained eye. Cailen stepped to one side for a better look at what the problem was.

Three young men about their own age blocked their path. They were blond, burly, and wore sagging track pants with white sneakers.

Oh, yeah… Cailen thought. She knew she’d forgotten something.

“This Jan?” she asked.

Her roommate nodded.

The shortest and widest of the three man stepped forward. “I’ve been asking all over for you, Benitez.”

“Not interested,” Gabriella said bluntly. “Now move.”

“You just gonna ignore me?” Jan asked.

“Happily,” she said.

He shook his head. “I need you for something.”

“I don’t have time for this or for you,” Gabriella growled. “Get out of my way.”

His face darkened. “Why are you such a bitch?”

She showed him her teeth. “That’s my question. Don’t make me toss you again, Jan. I really have things I need to do tonight.”

The other two thugs inched forward, and Cailen surreptitiously dug around in her purse for her sock full of quarters. She found the tied end of it and gathered it into her fist.

“I’m not taking no for an answer. I told you I need you for–”

Gabriella stepped forward, voice rising. “I don’t want any part of whatever stupid, illegal crap you have in mind, Jan. I said no and I meant it, now get out of–”

There was a click.

Everyone stopped moving and looked at the metal object in Jan’s hand.

Cailen’s fingers loosened on the sock of quarters. She didn’t think it’d help much against a gun.

To be continued in Chapter 4.