Transitional Arrangements

Transitional Arrangements

And its sequel

A Fresh Start

Ann Somerville

These stories are a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

‘Transitional Arrangements’ Copyright © 2006 by Ann Somerville

‘A Fresh Start’ Copyright © 2008 by Ann Somerville

Cover Image © Andrei Vishnyakov—Fotolia.com

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

For more information please visit my website at http://annsomeville.net/

Smashwords Edition 2, November 2016

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Published by Ann Somerville

Chapter 1 — Transitional Arrangements

I never gave much thought to dying. Not dying, sure—if you had a death wish in my line of work, then you had the life expectancy of a chocolate teapot. Apart from the usual ‘hope I die before I get old and ugly/in my sleep/after really great sex’ the how, when, where or why didn’t bother me much. Not a survival strategy, you see. And so I’d never really thought about what happened after I died because I kinda figured nothing much did.

I sure as hell wasn’t expecting to see Keril Parido staring at me with those cool, sarcastic eyes, and have him ask me, What took you so long, Langse?

I blinked at him, and then past him. It was very...white. Also, very empty. But mostly white and featureless, except for the unwelcome presence of one slimy bad hat. You’re dead.

So are you. You have.... He looked at his watch. Five minutes, thirty seconds to orient yourself, and then you need to—

"Wait a fucking minute, Parido," I said, stabbing my finger at him. My finger? I had a body? But he said I was....

Gunfire. A blow to the back, all the air knocked out of me, falling hard. Jesi screaming, blood in my mouth. Pain. Jesi, yelling at me not to die. Choking...and then nothing. Memories I would gladly lose.

Parido was tapping his foot with his face, so to speak. "Five minutes and twenty-three seconds, Langse, and since I know it’ll take longer than that for your retro-evolved brain to comprehend the reality of the situation, let me précis it for you. You’re dead, I’m dead. This isn’t heaven, it’s where the other dead people hang out until they get a better offer. And unless you want that macho little boyfriend of yours on this side of the veil instead of that," he said, waving his hand over there, you need to scrape your jaw off the floor, get on stream and do what I say.

I planted my feet squarely on the ground...or whatever the hell it was. Not in this lifetime...deathtime. Who died and made you the boss of me?

He smirked. "Well, you did, actually. I know what’s going on, what’s going to happen, and there is a ninety-three point six percent chance that if you don’t stop Jesi Gonlimi killing himself in the next, he checked his watch, four minutes and fifty-six seconds, the world as you know it and as you would like to rejoin it, will cease to exist, forever."

Nope. Try again. Last I heard, you and me weren’t on the same team or even the same side, so if you say this is white, I’m gonna think it’s black until someone I trust tells me different.

His rather thin lips got even more invisible. There is no side or team any more, Langse. You and I are dead. Our enmities don’t belong here. All that matters is if this spirit world ceases to exist, so will you and so will I. And so will every other soul, body-bound or not.

Religion, I said with a sneer.

Fact, he answered calmly. And you’ve got—

Yeah, yeah, three minutes what the fuck ever. If I can’t see Jesi until he dies, maybe I should let him...kill himself. I forced myself to say the words calmly, even though my non-existent stomach was slipslipsliding in my gut at the idea of Jesi...dead. Then he’ll be here, won’t he?

Spoken like the self-absorbed little shit I thought you were, he said, shaking his head. Look. He pointed to a long silver, glowing thread, fine as spider silk, hanging from my right hand. That’s a soul bond between you and Gonlimi. If he dies in the normal way of things, then that will help you two find each other again, which is sickeningly romantic but a fact nonetheless. If he kills himself, the psychic shock disrupts that bond and you and he will spend several—maybe hundreds—of lifetimes looking for each other again.

How could he know this stuff? You’re lying.

His cold blue eyes were lacking in any emotion now. Feel like risking an eternity of loneliness on that belief? Look—save the stupid bastard now, argue later, or do you want him dead?

I couldn’t trust him, but there was no one else around, and he was right, I couldn’t face Jesi being trapped in this dead, white world, even if it meant he was with me. How? I can’t even see him.

You’re not even looking, he replied sardonically. There.

And suddenly, we were on the grimy, moonlit roof of a building I didn’t recognise, seen through a milky screen that all the eye wiping in the world wouldn’t clear. But I could see one thing plain enough. Jesi was there, kneeling down, clip in one hand, gun in the other, ready to lock and load and....

Shit, Jes, don’t!

He can’t hear you, Langse.

Then how—

You need to move in—and hurry, damn you!

It was the first sign of genuine emotion I’d seen from the bastard. I just...?

Move!

I felt a shove, then I was through the fuzziness and right there. Jes! Stop!

Jesi jerked, turned a startled expression up at me—then his eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed sideways, dead to the world. Shit! Jesi! I grabbed for him, but my hand passed right through him.

You can’t touch him either, that hateful voice said from behind me. But the immediate danger is averted. The probability of him killing himself is now sixty-three point five percent.

I whirled to glare at him. "Will you stop that crap? What’s with that?"

Another cold smile. I’m an Extrapolator. I can tell you to three decimal points what the probability is of any outcome.

That’s impossible.

He arched a thin black eyebrow at me. There was a ninety-eight percent chance of you making that response.

Fuck you. I stared down at Jesi’s body. What do I do now, and how do you know all this stuff, and what’s this disaster that’s supposed to happen? And how come I’m involved at all?

He strolled over to a vent cover and sat down, crossing his long legs—still encased in his usual sleek, expensive trousers, and I had to wonder what the tailors were like in the afterlife. A lot of questions but since tall, dark and comatose is safe for the moment, I can spare the time. Take a seat, Langse.

No thanks, I gritted out. Spill.

You have perfectly disgusting manners, he said primly. To answer your last question first—you’re a Bridge.

And you’re a troll?

He rolled his eyes. Probability one hundred percent, he muttered. I don’t plan on repeating myself, so listen carefully. Remember, the probability of him dying is still a lot more than fifty percent.

I sat down on the ground—I couldn’t actually feel it, so I guessed he was only sitting for dramatic effect—and put my hand on Jesi’s head. Couldn’t feel that either. Maybe I wouldn’t ever touch his curly black hair again. Strangely, for the first time since I’d woken up to this nightmare, I realised I really, really wasn’t alive any more. The idea made my eyes—or the ghost of my eyes—get all tight and itchy. How come I can still feel my body?

Memory. You may think you’re on the verge of tears, but it’s simply your brain remembering how you would have reacted while you were alive. I imagine you spent a lot of time crying, he added bitchily. I just curled my lip at him. If we were dead, then I had better things to do than defend my deceased manliness. Let’s stick to the topic, because he’ll wake up soon and you need to be ready. You’re a Bridge—that means that you can move between the spirit world and the physical world, and perceive spirits across the barrier. You could do it before you died, except because of ESF’s ridiculous insistence that paranormals don’t exist, you were never trained. I dare say you’ve been plagued all your short and unworthy life with visions, people suddenly popping in and out of your sight, conversations that seem to happen without people being around to have them?

I stared at him, bewildered. How could he...?

How do I know? he said, as if he could read my mind. I’ve been dead a month, Langse. I’ve had time to have a few chats with people up here.

A month? My mind still trying to take it all in, I quickly did a calculation. I’ve been dead ten days?

Yes. The funeral was two days ago. Hence the dramatic gesture, he said, waving his hand at the now abandoned gun—I wished I could kick it over the side. At least it wouldn’t have meant some poor cleaner finding the mess, but the air-conditioning service engineers wouldn’t have been thrilled.

I couldn’t have given a damn about air-conditioning engineers right then, and I wondered where I’d been for over a week. Then I can stay here with him? He can see me and talk to me?

Yes, he conceded. But not touch or fuck you. Not that it would be such a hardship for some of us. I raised my middle finger at him. But your devotion to Manly but Mental is of no importance right now. I need him to.... He cocked his head. Get ready—there’s a ninety percent probability that he’ll wake up...now.

There was a groan right on cue as Jesi stirred. I hoped he hadn’t hit his head. Wasn’t much I could do if he had. He sat up, holding his face, wincing. Lord...what hit me...Nevo?

Here, Jes, I said quietly, so not to frighten him again.

It didn’t work. His eyes widened, and he scooted backwards on his arse. What the...? You’re dead! We buried.... He gave a dry little laugh. Lord, it’s a delusion. I’ve finally lost it.

Jes, no, you haven’t lost it! I’m dead, yes, but I’m here. You’re not crazy.

He just shook his head. Nice try, little delusion. Now run away and let me get on with what I planned to do.

Jes, no! You can’t! Please, love, if you do that, we’ll never see each other again! Look, I said desperately, holding up my right hand. See this?

He can’t see that, Langse—or me. You’ll have to persuade him with the power of your reasoning, which means we’re all screwed.

Fuck you, I snarled without turning to look at the bastard.

Jesi’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. What? Why are you...? Then he laughed again. Now I’m asking my delusions questions. Good job I won’t be back on the team—they’d lock me up.

Jes, no, you can’t! Please—give me five minutes. Are you that desperate to die? Because I shit you not, there ain’t a hell of a lot on the other side to get excited about. I clenched my ghostly fists in frustration. Five minutes, Jes. Please.

He gave me a sad look, then shrugged. Sure, why not. Not like I’ve got a date or anything, he said bitterly.

He looked bloody horrible, like he hadn’t slept in a week or more, which he probably hadn’t. I reached out a hand to brush an errant lock off his face—didn’t work, of course, but I felt better for trying. Sorry, Jes. I never meant to leave you behind.

Figured you didn’t get yourself shot on purpose, Nev. Only...I wish it’d been me. I didn’t think I’d have to...take the salute. Make the speech. He lifted his head, and stared at me with raw misery in those baby browns. It was a great funeral. One of the best. He punched the ground with a clenched fist. Should’ve been me, Nev.

That cold, sneering voice intruded again. Fortunately, it wasn’t.

I turned and scowled at Parido. "Do you mind?" I snapped.

Nev, who are you talking to? Then Jesi shook his head. Listen at me—I’m starting to believe it. He started to get to his feet, and unable to stop him, I could only scramble up. Look, real or not, I made a decision while I was at your graveside. I can’t do this without you, and if they let me back on the team, either I’ll get killed or I’ll get one of them killed. Can’t face it, love, I really can’t.

Jes, wait! I turned to Parido in desperation. Isn’t there some way he can see you?

He folded his arms. And you think that would make a difference?

Just do it, Parido, I snapped.

He sighed, and got up, strolling over nice and calm like it hadn’t been him in a frantic hurry just a few minutes ago. I have to touch you.

Fine, I doubt I can die of scumbag now.

He smiled thinly and laid his hand on my arm. Hello, Gonlimi.

Jesi reared back. Y-You!

In the flesh. Only...not exactly flesh.

I growled at my unwanted companion. Stop jerking him around, and tell him—tell us—what this is all about, Parido.

Jes was looking at the both of us bug-eyed. H-Him! Nev, that’s.... He’s dead! We saw him buy it!

Yeah, I know, and believe me, I’m as thrilled as you about this. Fortunately I don’t think I can actually vomit any more. Love—you’ve gotta listen. I reached out towards his face, but he jerked away from my hand. My dead heart got a little colder. I’m not a delusion, Jes, and I won’t leave you again. It’s not like it was before, but I won’t leave you. Promise.

I buried you. I could hear the tears, ten days’ pain in his whisper. Threw the dirt on the coffin, the whole thing.

I tried to smile. Shoulda cremated me. Cheaper.

Damn it, Nev, you think I...? He choked, grimacing at me through the grief. You bastard.

Your bastard. Yours forever. Beside me, Parido made a gagging noise. Shut your mouth, Parido, I said, scowling. You set this up, so what’s it all about?

He set it up? Jesi said. You mean you didn’t come back for me?

Damn it! No, love, it’s not like....

But Jesi was already stalking off across the roof. At least the gun was still at my feet.

Parido clicked his tongue. I never thought he was bright, but really, it would be nice to be surprised. Hard for me, I know, but one always hopes. Take me over to him, Langse, if you want this to happen this side of the apocalypse.

No, you stay there and don’t listen in. I shook off his hand and stomped over to Jesi. He was staring off into the night sky, ignoring me, but guessing what it would feel like if the situation were reversed, I couldn’t be angry with him. Love, it’s not what you think.

He turned stormy, pain-ridden eyes on me. Then what is it? Seriously, Nev—what am I supposed to do here?

Trust me.

"You I trust, but I don’t trust him—I don’t know how you can."

I don’t, but I didn’t get much time to make a decision. I quickly explained the rapid sequence of events, while he listened, scepticism obvious in every fibre. I don’t know what game he’s playing, but there’s one thing for sure—he can’t do much with anything he gets by it now.

Then what does he get out of it? he said in a low angry voice. You ever known the Marauders to do anything for anyone?

No, but if he’s right and it means it’s really the end for him and everyone else...maybe he just wants a second chance to be a tosser in the real world again. I don’t know, Jes. You know as much as I do, which isn’t much. Ten minutes ago, I didn’t know a damn thing.

Yes, well, the ESF aren’t much use in training people how to be dead. He started to reach for me, but, a faster learner than me, he already knew it was pointless, and let his hands fall uselessly back to his side. All I wanted, he whispered, was not to be alive and missing you, Nev. It chokes me, how much I miss you.

Well, same here, babe. But if you kill yourself, and he’s right...please, love, don’t. We can’t risk it. I swear I’ll be here with you to the very end and beyond. Got your back same as always.

If you’d been in front, you wouldn’t have been shot. He scrubbed at his eyes. All right, bring him over. Can you still kick him in the balls if he jerks you around?

Gonna give it my best shot. He gave me a strained smile, and ghost or not, I still put my arms around him. He looked relieved when I let go—I guessed it hadn’t helped. We’d been a touchy-feely couple—the team used to rib us about it all the time. Not being able to do that was going to be tough. But it was better than nothing, I supposed.

Jesi sat down on a hatch near us, I sat next to him. Get over here, Parido, I yelled.

He sauntered over. Langse, much as I don’t want to be cast into oblivion in six days’ time, I want to put up with your poorly bred manners even less. I’m not your servant, and I expect professional courtesy.

Professional— I nearly choked to death—so to speak—laughing at him. Jesi was looking at me in alarm. Of course he hadn’t heard the arsehole’s words. Well, while we’re being so damn honest here, Parido, let’s just say I trust you about as far as I could toss this building, and whatever this plan is of yours, you can bet me and Jes will scrutinise it until the pips squeak before we agree. So you can take your professional courtesy and give yourself a rectal exam with it. Get down here and tell us what the fuck is going on.

Parido didn’t move. I’m not crouching in the dirt.

Oh for fu– I stood up. For an assassin, you’re a prissy little bitch, aren’t you?

The difference between you and me, Langse, has always been that I have standards. He glanced at Jesi. In everything.

I gave him my oiliest smile. "And the difference between me and you, Parido, is that I don’t go by looks. You’d buy an auto for the paint job. I laid my hand on Jesi’s head. I prefer those with big...engines, performance and most of all...stamina."

Spare me the sordid details of your pathetic love life, Langse, he said, eyes narrowed in annoyance. Can we move on? I don’t have all night.

Why, got a hot date?

Nev, what’s going on? Jesi stood up and peered in the space where he imagined Parido to be—which wasn’t where the tosser was standing. I turned him slightly, then grabbed Parido by the arm. Jesi blinked. Oh, there he is. Almost forgot what an ugly sod he was.

You know, we used to refer to your Elite Security Force as Every Simple Fool and you two are walking demonstrations of the truth of that, Parido snapped.

I smiled, knowing we’d got to him, and turned to Jesi. Be nice to him, babe—after all, he doesn’t look as good as I do dead, and he never will.

"I’ve no ambitions to look like a rentboy, fortunately. Can we get on?"

There was more than annoyance to this, I realised, and we’d played with him long enough. For now. Yeah. Now—what’s this about oblivion?

Chapter 2 — Transitional Arrangements

It was whackier than the whackiest cheap novel I’d ever picked up in an airport to kill time with, and that was saying something. Jesi sat and listened like he’d taken one too many boots to the head, and even I, who had a lot more reason to give credence to the yarn, was still wondering if this was some kind of near-death delusion. Maybe none of it was real at all—maybe I was in a hospital bed, with Jesi grieving at my side, dreaming all of it. It felt real, but every druggie I’d ever arrested as a cop had insisted the purple lizards crawling up their legs were real too.

It all required a lot more faith than I was used to giving anyone but Jesi and our team—and certainly not to Parido and the rest of the Marauders. I’d spent the last six years trying to systematically destroy them and all they stood for. It sat badly with me to just have to keep still and listen to that scornful snooty voice, but I did my best. Time to kick him in the head later, if he was jerking us around.

He said there was a group of bad hats called the Exalted, a name which had me rolling my eyes from the get go. Yes, I share your feelings, Langse, much as I hate to admit it. But much as I hate to admit it also, they make the Marauders look like a kindergarten class.

You mean they’re not?

Oh do shut up, he said irritably. I thought it was fascinating how easy it was right now to puncture his cool—something I could use, maybe. I shut up anyway. The Marauders work for hire, and for most of us, the ultimate aim is not to work at all—a goal, I might add, we are very close to achieving, despite all the frantic activity from the ESF.

You might want to redefine ‘we’ in that sentence, I couldn’t help pointing out.

He gave me the slightest sneer, the barest curl of his barely visible lips. It’s not like your retirement plan’s going to be needed either.

You two, drop it, Jesi said, much to my surprise. Explain about the Exalted, Parido. How many are there, what do they want and what are they up to.

He almost seemed pleased that Jesi was keeping us on track. The Exalted came to our attention ten years ago when we lost several key people to their activities. They’re all paranormals, and we established that their aim is global domination, which always struck me as entirely too much effort for the payoff. We redefined our core business to avoid coming into conflict with them since there was no practical reason for us to cross them, but we’ve been tracking them. Since I.... He coughed delicately. Passed over—

Died, I amended bluntly.

Died, he agreed in a flat voice, giving me a sour look, "I’ve learned more about their ambitions, since our mutual condition, Langse, allows us to travel anywhere at will. There are a number of spirits who are as concerned over the Exalted as I am."

I held up my hand. "Wait a minute—how come I can’t see these other spirits, and how come I was lost for more than a week, and then you found me?"

Not relevant at this point, he said, and when I opened my mouth again, he just talked over the top of me. I’ve learned that the Exalted, of which there are twelve, are planning to breach the barrier between the spirit world and this one. Their aim is to gain enormous paranormal power—more power than any individual paranormal could ever conceive of possessing. The actual result of what they’re planning will be to destroy both worlds, because no one, no matter how powerful or trained, could contain the flow of billions of spirits across the breach, and the spirits, apart from those like you, Langse, simply cannot survive in this world without a bodily host.

You do.

Actually, no. I’m not ‘here’, but your presence in the physical world allows the barrier to be thinned enough so that I appear to Gonlimi much as you do. I’m still behind the barrier. Which brings me to the way the Exalted are planning to create this breach. Bridges are the rarest talent among paranormals—they’re one in a thousand, in a group which is itself rare. We estimated there were probably no more than twenty in existence in the entire world.

I grinned at Jesi, who was looking strained. Told you I was special, babe. He smiled faintly back, and I ignored the gagging noises from the clown across from us.

Unusual, perhaps—certainly not extraordinary, Parido couldn’t resist chipping in. They plan to bring together a number of factors which contribute to the thinning of the barrier, at a time and place when the two worlds are especially close, and use Bridges to rend the barrier in the hope they can channel the power of the spirit world into the twelve of them.

What factors? Jesi asked. And what time and place?

Specifically, dying people. People close to death are already in transition between the two worlds. A portal to the spirit world becomes ready to open to admit them, though of course, it doesn’t open until they actually die. Bring a large group of them together, and you have a large number of such portals, which are potential and exploitable points of weakness.

So, it’s going to happen in a hospital? Or a hospice? Jesi said.

Parido looked pleased, as if his dog had learned a trick. Ordinarily, yes, but the place is also important. There are locations in this world at which the barrier is naturally thinner—you, Langse, may have noticed that your talent is particularly troublesome in some places more than other?

I nodded reluctantly. It’s spooky. You saying that haunted houses are real?

No, mostly they’re just people’s undereducated and overactive imaginations giving them a cheap thrill. But some temples, some ancient monuments—some isolated natural reserves—were built where they were because of this barrier thinning.

I threw up my hands. "How do you know this? Are there spirits hanging around just waiting for a master criminal to turn up so they can teach them?"

Well now, for you, that almost sounds intelligent. Jesi scowled at him for that. Not all the spirits move between lives. Some reside permanently in the spirit world, and some of them have precognition—so yes, they were waiting for me, and my own talent confirmed what I was told. I haven’t spent a month just sitting on my hands.

Can’t see you getting any arse action otherwise, I sniped, and got a more genuine grin out of Jesi, which was what I’d been hoping for.

Neither of us will be getting much ‘arse action’ for the foreseeable future. Do you want to hear the rest of this or do you simply want to amuse your lover? Parido folded his arms and looked as pissed as I’d ever seen him.

Continue, Jesi said calmly. He seemed to be accepting this for now, but the presence of his gun on the ground a few metres from us still bothered me. If he decided this was all bullshit, then there wasn’t a hell of a lot I could do to stop him carrying out his plan. And where was our team? Why weren’t Luiziuj or Wevi around to keep an eye on him? How much imagination did it take to realise this was a dangerous time for Jesi? If I could kick arse right now, I’d find my so-called friends and boot them from here to the other side of the moons.

"The place they’ve chosen is by a lake in north Esidkin—they’ve been planning this for some time, as there is a congruence of planetary and temporal forces which further weakens the barrier. It occurs approximately every three hundred and fifty years—the