Chapter Twenty-Six

That night, Ashleigh searched Darcy's room. She knew Darcy kept a diary, and Ashleigh wanted to read it. She needed to piece together what had been happening in Fallen Oak since she died.

While she was dead, Ashleigh had quickly found her way to her opposite, Tommy, and devoted all her energy and attention to haunting him and trying to get him to do what she wanted. That had probably only worked because he was so deeply connected to her.

When she wasn't incarnated, Ashleigh had all her memories of all her lifetimes, but no power to be seen or heard or influence the world. When she was incarnated, she was usually focused on that single lifetime, usually with no clue about her past lives or what she really was.

Now, possessing Darcy's body, she had a weird mix of both. Her power seemed intact, if her effect on Esmeralda and Jenny's dad were any indication. At the same time, she had a huge store of past-life memories—jumbled together, not linear or organized at all, but they were there. The past-life memories gave her insight into her past relationships, and into her own power, and into the powers wielded by Esmeralda and Tommy.

And the horrific power wielded by Jenny.

Ashleigh found the diary under Darcy's bed, a pink journal decorated with kitten and puppy cartoons. It was full of Darcy's bulging handwriting.

She began to read. Darcy had seen Jenny stagger into the pond at Ashleigh's house. She'd been shocked to see Jenny alive and well at school.

From her past lives, Ashleigh knew what that was about. Seth, if he was really determined to come back, could sometimes heal his own dead body and return to life—if he was fast enough. And he'd healed Jenny's body, too, to restore her to life.

Opposites, when close to each other, had the effect of amplifying each other's power. That was why Seth had been able to come back, and why Jenny had been able to unleash hell on Fallen Oak.

There were other issues, too—something called “cross” powers, and “complementary” powers, a whole tangle of information that was jumbled inside Ashleigh's head. She would have to think long and deep to figure it out, if she needed to.

The main thing, though, was finding your opposite. Your opposite could be a powerful ally, or a dangerous enemy.

Ashleigh read on. Darcy described a conversation with a CDC doctor, to whom Darcy had tried to explain about Jenny.

The squeaky sound of Darcy's dad's wheelchair approached. After only a day of pretending to be Darcy, she had already learned to hate that sound.

Darcy's father arrived at the open door to the bedroom. She had to keep it open all the time, or Darcy's parents would knock and demand that she open it. The Metcalf household was a semi-fascist state.

“Darcy!” he shouted. It seemed easier for him to shout than to talk normally.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Your cousin Heywood just got promoted to assistant manager,” he said. “Over at the Taco Bell in Vernon Hill.”

“That's...great.” Ashleigh wasn't sure if she was supposed to be excited. Maybe this represented a huge step forward in life for Cousin Heywood.

“He says he can get you a job,” Darcy's dad continued. “You got to start working nights at the drive-through, and then work your way up. I bet you could make assistant manager in a couple years.”

“Um...can't it wait until after graduation?” Ashleigh asked.

“Jobs don't wait, Darcy!” he shouted.

“But I have finals coming up. I need to study.”

“I don't see why. You ain't going to college no more. You got to earn some money and take care of that baby.”

Ashleigh thought it over. She had no intention of working at Taco Bell, or anywhere else. That was Darcy's problem, not hers. Just like Darcy's pregnancy. Darcy's mother insisted she take prenatal vitamins, but Ashleigh secretly spat them out, because they made her feel sick.

“If I graduate with good grades,” Ashleigh said, “Maybe I can go to college later, when the baby's older—”

“Yeah,” Darcy's dad snorted. “And maybe Santa Claus gonna come down on a flying carpet and make you shit diamonds and gold.”

“Okay.” Ashleigh heard the wonderful sound of her beloved caramel Jeep rolling into the driveway. She dropped Darcy's diary into Darcy's big canvas purse to take with her. “Well, I gotta go.”

“Where you goin’?” he shouted as Ashleigh squeezed past him.

“Out!” Ashleigh hurried to the front door.

Outside, she climbed into the passenger seat of her Jeep. Tommy was driving, and Ashleigh gave him her biggest smile. He was nearly immune to the enchantment of her touch, but he mostly did what she wanted, anyway. They'd been married several times, in other lifetimes. Ashleigh had murdered him several times, too, but happily, he didn't remember any of it.

He was cute in this lifetime. She especially liked his eyes.

“Hi!” Ashleigh said. “Let's get the fuck out of here. I've always hated Darcy's family.”

“You got it.” He stomped the accelerator and peeled out as he left the driveway, leaving smoking rubber tire tracks behind him.

Darcy's father glared at them through the screen door as they roared away.

“Where's our pet necromancer?” Ashleigh asked him.

“She's watching TV back at your house.”

“Damn it, Tommy, you can't let her out of your sight like that. If she gets control of herself, she can knock me out of Darcy's body anytime she likes. And if she runs off—”

“She's not running off,” Tommy said. “She likes me.”

“Don't get cocky. I hope you dosed her up with fear before you left.”

“I did!”

“Good,” Ashleigh said. “We'll make her fear you and love me. Between those, she'll be way too confused to try anything.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“It's not a plan, it's common sense.”

“So,” Tommy said. “While we're alone, I wanted to ask you about our past lives—”

“Not right now, Tommy,” Ashleigh said. “I've got a headache, a backache, a footache...Darcy’s body sucks.”

“But I was wondering—”

“Just get me the fuck home.”

At Ashleigh's house, Esmeralda was on the couch, watching a movie on the big plasma screen, and she jumped up when they arrived.

“There's nothing to eat here!” Esmeralda complained. “I'm so hungry.”

“There's stuff in the fridge,” Ashleigh said.

“It's all spoiled,” Esmeralda replied.

“Whatever.” Ashleigh opened the fridge.

The smell hit her like a mule kick to the gut. Mold was growing on everything, and the milk jug had expanded until it was almost ball-shaped.

Ashleigh covered her mouth, but she puked through her fingers. She ran to the kitchen sink and puked her guts out into it. There were strange, rotten smells from the sink, too, which just made her vomit more.

“God, that’s horrible,” Ashleigh said.

“I told you.” Esmeralda had a little smirk on her face.

Ashleigh grabbed Esmeralda's arm with one barf-splattered hand. Esmeralda scowled and tried to pull away, but Ashleigh clamped tight, smearing vomit across the girl's bicep.

You'll like it, bitch, Ashleigh thought. She hit her with a golden wave of love.

Out loud, Ashleigh said, “Oh, this pregnancy is really hitting me hard.”

Esmeralda's face softened. “I forgot you were pregnant.”

“Yeah, it's so hard to do anything,” Ashleigh said. “You don't mind cleaning all that puke up, do you? I'd do it myself, but it's so hard. With the pregnancy.”

“Oh, sure!” Esmeralda said.

“In fact, you don't mind cleaning the whole kitchen, do you?” Ashleigh asked. “It would be such a help.”

“Yeah, that's fine.”

“And take out the trash when you're done, so it doesn't reek?”

“Whatever you need.” Esmeralda smiled. “I helped my cousin Lucia when she was pregnant.”

“Good! I could really use your experience and help.” Ashleigh injected her with another dose of love and then released her. Esmeralda immediately dug out cleaning supplies from under the sink and went to work.

“Tommy.” Ashleigh gave him her sweetest smile. “Can you go to the Piggly Wiggly for us? I'll make a list.”

Tommy shrugged.

When she'd sent him on his way, Ashleigh went up to her own room. It was very spacious, with floor-to-ceiling windows, a walk-in closet, and a private bathroom. It was, in fact, the master bedroom of the house. Years ago, Ashleigh had persuaded Dr. and Mrs. Goodling that she should have it, while they moved into a smaller room.

Past-due notices had arrived for all the utility bills, so Ashleigh found one of Dr. Goodling's credit cards and went online to pay them, to keep the house running. Apparently the credit card company didn't yet know that Maurice Goodling was dead, with no living heirs, because the charges were accepted.

In her desk, Ashleigh had a PayPal debit card. This was linked to the account where people all over the country had made donations to “Ashleigh's Girls,” after Ashleigh's appearance on Chuck O' Flannery and other national media. The account held over two hundred thousand dollars, last time she'd checked, and maybe more donations were still trickling in through the website. She wouldn't use that money unless she had to—better to clean out her father's bank account and max out his credit cards first.

Ashleigh sat on her bed and opened Darcy's diary, ready to learn more about how the town had been quarantined and investigated.  A small white card fluttered out from the back of the journal.  It must have been tucked between the last page and the back cover.

Ashleigh picked it up.

HEATHER REYNARD, M.D., it read.   Office of Surveillance, Epidemiology, and Laboratory Services. CENTERS FOR DISEASE CONTROL. ATLANTA, GA.

“Interesting,” Ashleigh said.  She continued reading the diary.