NOVEL WEB Seeing is Believing
3. Seeing is Believing
They met in a cramped hallway next to the bar’s bathroom when everything was settled. There were only two rooms, and one displayed an out-of-order sign. Caution tape hung loose across the fading wood.
“An out-of-order bathroom?” asked Lopsang. “Leaves a bit to be desired after something like The Black Market.”
Nick thought back on The Black Market with fondness and then soured. “Yeah, well, James got us banned, so we’re stuck slumming it in seedy fighting rings.” Nick checked around them for prying eyes. Unsurprisingly, no one was paying attention to the bathroom line. He brushed aside the caution tape, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.
Red lights ringed the ceiling, reflecting off cracked tiles. Rather than smelling like stale piss and unknown rot, there was a pleasant sterility to the air. Nick’s nose hardly wrinkled.
A blind man sat on a stool in the corner. He wore dark glasses and tapped a cane impatiently on the tile. “You two, back again? And it looks like you brought more friends. How many times do I have to tell you? You can piss just about anywhere in this bar, but not in here. Now, get the hell out.”
“I like him,” Nick grinned.
“You’re not going to like me in a minute,” bit out the blind man. “I may have lost my sight, but I can still kick your sorry ass if you don’t move.”
Nick’s good humor was palpable. “I’m sorry about my friends, old timer. They’re new to the community.”
“The community?” He let out a wheezing laugh. “What community?”
“This is going about as well as expected.” Shirley folded her arms.
Nick ignored her and looked around the small room. There was a sink, a mirror, and a toilet that had been sealed shut with plaster. He shuddered at the incident that would have necessitated such caution. As far as tests went, it was tricky. “Can you see?”
“Would I carry this damned cane if I could?”
Nick laughed. “But can you see?”
The old man nodded. “I guess we’re going to find out.”
Nick walked over to the mirror. “James, grab me Henry’s tome.”
James unslung his shoulder bag and pulled out a dusty leather book.
“Holy shit, you still carry that thing around?” Many years prior, Shirley had chided Nick for lugging it up a small mountain. “Would you like me to at least digitize it for you?”
Nick sneered. “Want to tell her what happened when you tried that, James?”
He groaned at the memory. “Waste of a perfectly good e-reader. The thing nearly burned our apartment down.” He handed Nick the tome.
The book was written by Nick’s teacher, Henry. Inside were enchantments, incantations, tips for killing various beasties, and lascivious drawings of anything he encountered that was vaguely feminine. “Henry was suspicious, and I doubt he wanted his work copied. Besides, if he’s still around, I’m pretty sure some of these writings implicate him in more than a few international crimes.” Henry disappeared fifteen years earlier, but Nick was never willing to believe the man was dead. It was far too simple an ending for his lavish personality.
“Well, I’m not seeing anything, and if you don’t hurry up, I’m going to call security.” The blind man raised a walkie-talkie to emphasize the point.
“I’m pretty sure they say patience is a virtue.” Nick flipped through the pages of the book.
“Not right now it isn’t,” countered the blind man.
Nick found the page he was looking for, pulled a small wax candle out of his pocket, and placed it in the sink. “I’m pretty sure this is safe, but just in case, you might want to take a few steps back.” Nick grabbed the matchbook from his back pocket and lit the candle. It hardly made a difference in the dim glow of the red room. He rubbed his hands together and chanted under his breath. The words weren’t strictly necessary, but the dark arts were ninety percent showmanship, ten percent actual magic.
“Spirits from beyond, see my candle, follow its light.” The candle was made from bone and fat robbed off his grandmother’s corpse. While the process was disgusting, it did enable him to summon her at will in any reflective surface that the candle could see. “Follow my light and hear my call. Come to us oh spirits from beyond the final fall.”
James and Lopsang kept straight faces, but Shirley couldn’t stifle a snort.
Nick didn’t react and stood perfectly still in front of the mirror. Nothing happened. Oh, come on you old bag of bones. You can’t be that busy down there. Thirty seconds passed and the mirror showed nothing other than Nick’s haggard reflection.
“Is something supposed to be happening?” asked Shirley.
The blind man had the good sense to stay quiet and wait.
Finally, Nick grew frustrated and called out. “Jesus, Nana, can you cut your bridge game short? The candle only burns so long!”
The mirror pulsed with bright, blue light, eclipsing the red glow above. “Nick, is that you? How many times have I told you to watch your god damned language! I was having the best conversation with a dear frien—”
“We get it, Nana, being dead is soooo tiring. Living isn’t all that easy and we’re on a schedule.” Nick chanced a glance back at Shirley.
She maintained her composure, but the shock was clear.
The blind man stood from his seat and walked to the mirror. “Well, I’ll be damned. Here I thought you were all a bunch of frauds.”
“How long has it been, Nick?” asked Nana. Her skin sagged, embodying the pallor of death, but otherwise, she looked good.
“Last Christmas, maybe?” asked Nick, knowing full well it wasn’t.
“Ha! Last Christmas? Let me check my calendar. Oh wait, I remember, it’s been ten years!”
“Oh, come off it, you just said you were busy.”
“Not too busy to talk to my grandson from the great beyond. How have you been? You look terrible. Getting fatter.”
Nick growled and turned to the blind man. “Satisfied?”
“Y-yes, but don’t waste this time on my account. I’m happy to wait.”
“Alright, sorry grandma, got to run. Let’s do this again soon.”
“Nick, you wait a damned minute, don’t you hang up on me.”
Nick licked his fingers and snuffed out the candle.
“You son of a bitch!” his grandmother screamed as she faded once more into the ether.
The muted thumping of the jazz band entered back into the room, making it clear just how quiet things had been. Nick felt a cold chill wash over him. It was a side effect of communicating with the dead, especially when they were pissed. “So, now that we’ve all endured that pleasant little experience, can you please let us in?”
The blind man wandered back to his stool. “Yeah, I’ve seen enough, but that was cold, man.”
“Nick, you should call your grandmother more.” James stifled a laugh.
“Screw off, James. Don’t make me get your ‘cousins’ on the phone from the Land of the Dead. I’m sure they’ll be curious where you got off to.”
The blind man interrupted any further argument. “There are a few rules before I let you in. If you do want to fight, sign a waiver. If you tell anyone about what you see here tonight, you’ll regret it. Lastly, have a good time, and Martin’s thanks you for your patronage.” The blind man smiled and pulled on the plunger next to his stool. The tile wall behind him gave way to a dimly lit stone passage wide enough for two people to walk side by side.
Nick motioned to the passage. “After you, Shirley.”
“Always a gentleman.” Shirley stepped through the door. “Have a good night,” she said to the blind man.
“You too, miss. And hey, make sure your friend calls his grandmother again sometime. She seems like a sweet lady.”
“Oh, he won’t be hearing the end of this.”
“I thought we were in a rush!” Nick stomped into the passageway.
Shirley followed and they descended into the gloom.