The Dead Beat

Episode V

Erica Lindquist & Aron Christensen

 

Arphallo waited in the rain, hands thrust deep into the pockets of his coat and still numbed by the cold. He watched the street, but had no idea what he was looking for. Arphallo considered calling Sam to ask for a description, but decided against it. In the rainy gray evening, everyone looked pretty much the same, anyway; all dressed in long coats and faces hidden under black umbrellas like a crop of dark mushrooms.

One woman stood out from the colorless crowd. The coat she wore was bright red and she carried no umbrella. Rain beaded in her curly golden hair. She saw Arphallo watching and wove her way through the evening pack of bodies towards him. The woman in red smiled and extended her hand.

“You must be Arphallo Sirus,” she said. “Thanks for waiting. Am I late?”

Arphallo checked his watch. “Only by a few minutes, but the restaurant is running a little behind.”

“I’m Lily Davis,” she introduced herself.

Her hand was still extended. Arphallo took hesitantly. What was he supposed to do? Shake it? Kiss it? He should never have let Sam talk him into a blind date. Arphallo settled on a brief handshake. Lily’s smile faltered.

“Well, why don’t we go inside?” she asked, gesturing to the doors behind him.

“Yeah, sure.”

Arphallo held open the door, glass lettered in gold leaf. He followed Lily inside and gave Sam’s name to a smartly dressed maitre’d. A waitress seated them under a wrought-iron arch strung with pale blue lights.

“Sam says he works with you,” Lily said. She shrugged out of her red coat and Arphallo cursed himself for not thinking to take it for her. The sequined dress beneath glittered, like the rain in her hair.

“Oh… yes,” Arphallo answered almost too late. “Sam’s my partner.”

“I know. I was just trying to get us started.” Lily’s smile was back, certain and bright. Her lipstick was the same red as her coat. “Sam talks about you all the time.”

“Really? What… what does he say?” Arphallo could not imagine the stoic Sam speaking at length on any subject. Much less about Arphallo, who had so little in the way of a social life that Sam had taken it upon himself to set his partner up on a blind date.

Lily laughed. “A lot of glowing praise that I hope to verify in person,” she said. “Sam tells me that you’re an exorcist. One of the best he’s ever met, himself included.”

“Really?” Arphallo asked.

“More or less.” Lily looked over her menu at Arphallo and winked. “Sam was an exorcist back in his day, but he can’t practice anymore. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, it is,” Arphallo said. “Really? You know about that? Most people don’t realize that after exorcists die, they can’t make the spells work anymore.”

“I have a little experience,” Lily told him. “I was never an exorcist, but I’m a legal secretary. Dark law has always held a certain fascination.”

“I guess that’s why Sam set us up.” Arphallo glanced over the menu. Everything looked about the same; tasty, but overpriced and underportioned.

“Actually, I don’t think so.”

Lily put down her menu. As if summoned, a waiter appeared to take their order and then vanished just as discretely.

“What do you mean?” asked Arphallo when the waiter had disappeared into the soft, private shadows of the restaurant.

“Sam also says that there’s not much in your life besides the work,” Lily said. “He told me that you work about seventy hours a week.”

“It’s not that much.” Arphallo realized he sounded defensive. Why? There was nothing wrong with being dedicated to the job. “Just when there’s a rough case.”

“All of your cases are pretty rough, to hear Sam tell it.” Lily held up a slim hand to forestall Arphallo’s argument. “Don’t you want to know why Sam did set up this date?”

“Yeah,” Arphallo answered uncertainly. “I guess so.”

“Because I’m fun.” Lily said it with that bright smile.

Her blonde curls lay across her pale shoulders and seemed to caress her skin. Arphallo swallowed hard and told himself to focus. Seven years without a date had frayed anything like skill. He was staring at Lily and had to force himself to look up as the waiter reappeared with two glasses of wine.

“Thanks,” Lily told the waiter, who inclined his head and left them alone again.

“Legal secretary doesn’t sound like the most entertaining job. What do you do for fun?” Arphallo asked. He was a little proud of the question. Lily wasn’t going to have him on his heels all night.

“Everything. I love dancing, skydiving, rock-climbing, riding horses and writing. I’ve published a few stories,” Lily said between sips of dark red wine. “I’ve even been known to go skateboarding on the odd weekend, when I can get a host willing to let me risk an ankle.”

Arphallo had just taken a drink of his own wine and very nearly spat it back out. “What?” he asked, breathless. “A… a host? You’re dead?”

Lily opened her mouth – her puppet’s mouth – and closed it again before she could answer. “Sam didn’t tell you?”

“No. He didn’t.”

Lily lifted her chin and looked at Arphallo for a long moment. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He felt like a suspect under interrogation.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last. “I was just… just a little surprised. I don’t know why Sam didn’t warn me.”

“Warn you? Maybe he knew that you would react like this.” Lily sat back and tapped a fingernail on her wineglass. The crystal rang softly. “What’s wrong, Arphallo? A ghost can be a case, but not a date?”

“No! That’s not… not…”

“It’s okay,” Lily said. She actually sounded as if she meant it. “You’re young, Arphallo. You’ve never dated a dead woman before, have you?”

“No,” he admitted. “I’m young? How old are you?”

“Does it matter?” Lily arched one of her blonde eyebrows at Arphallo. “What does age really mean, anyway? How old was I when I died? That has no bearing on how old I am now.”

“Doesn’t it?” Arphallo asked. “A psychology study showed lower ability to adapt to societal changes among ghosts.”

“I read that article,” Lily said. Her tone was challenging, but not angry. “It compared thirty-year-old living men and women to ghosts who had been dead for thirty years. It was a bad sampling.”

“What? How? They couldn’t very well compare the recently dead. They died in effectively the same time period as the study. They don’t have anything to adjust to yet.”

“Ah, but they didn’t take into account the age at which the ghosts died,” Lily said. She paused as their waiter brought steaming plates of pasta and a basket of dark bread. She inhaled the scent of the food, but did not yet touch it. “A full half of those ghosts questioned were over sixty at the time of death.”

Arphallo unfolded his napkin and laid it across his lap as he thought. “Okay, I think I see your point. Even the living over the age of sixty lose a lot of psychological adaptability. They may just be retaining that in death, rather than being the result of being a ghost.”

“Exactly.” Lily punctuated her agreement with a swish of her fork. She took a bite of the pasta, covered in a creamy sauce and sprinkled with dried tomatoes. “Delicious.”

“I’m guessing you weren’t that old when you passed,” Arphallo guessed. “You seem pretty well adjusted.”

“Maybe.” Lily’s eyes were mischievous. “Or else I didn’t die long ago.”

Arphallo considered that and then shook his head. “I doubt it. The first year after death is a dangerous time with ghosts. They’re afraid of the Dark and they want to be alive. Desperate to return to the Light. That’s when they’re most likely to break laws, make bad contracts or even take unwilling hosts.”

“You don’t think I’m the type?” Lily asked.

“Not really, no,” said Arphallo. He twirled his fork in his clam linguine. “You don’t seem dangerous.”

“Is that all? I might be a very good actor.”

Arphallo smiled at her across the table. “If you were skinriding an unwilling host, you probably couldn’t taste that pasta. You would be fighting with the puppet’s spirit and wouldn’t settle into the body.”

Lily put down her wine glass and cocked her head curiously at Arphallo. “Really? I thought the native soul wasn’t aware of anything that happened while they were hosting.”

“They aren’t,” said Arphallo. “But free will is a powerful thing. If the soul is unwilling, it fights, even unconsciously. It will keep trying to throw off the controlling ghost.”

“I hadn’t heard that. I had heard, however, that some hosts remain conscious through the experience.”

“It’s rare – very, very rare – but it happens. I read about it in college, but I’ve never actually seen it happen,” Arphallo told her. “Besides, I can’t imagine Sam sending me on a blind date with a crazy ghost.”

“Probably not,” Lily said with a small laugh. “Sam thinks a lot of you, and that’s saying something. Sam’s a hard man to impress.”

“Do you two know each other well?” asked Arphallo.

Lily twirled her fingers in a circle. “Sort of. We met in the Dark and he never talked much about his life. He never asked me much about mine, either.”

“And yet he sets us up on a date?” Arphallo suddenly thought of something. “Wait, you… you are a woman, aren’t you? You’re not just skinriding one?”

Lily blinked, then smiled at him. “Yes, I’m really a woman. Not, I maintain, that it matters. But yes, I’m female.”

“Oh, good,” Arphallo said, relieved. “I’ve just… Never mind.”

“I know Sam picked the restaurant – and it’s good – but this place is a little tame.” Lily pushed her plate out of the way and leaned across the table, speaking quietly and conspiratorially. “There’s a great bar just a few blocks away.”

“A bar?”

“And I believe it’s karaoke night. What do you think?”

“Um…” Arphallo stammered. “I can’t sing…”

“So?” Lily asked, now grinning. “I have no idea if this body can, either. But it’s worth trying, isn’t it?”

“I guess. I really can’t sing, though.”

“That means you’ve tried,” Lily said slyly. “I can’t wait to hear the story, and then the song.”

Saving him from having to answer her, Arphallo’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He checked the message and jumped to his feet. “I’m sorry,” he told Lily. “That was Sam. I need to get back to the station.”

He fumbled for his wallet, trying to quickly figure out how much he needed to leave to cover everything, but Lily shook her head.

“I’ll get it,” she said. “You can take care of it next time.”

“There’s going to be a next time?” Arphallo asked.

Lily gave him a wink. “Say hello to Sam for me. And tell him thanks for setting up the date.”

“I will,” Arphallo promised.