Chapter 4

It was just after eight p.m. when Nix arrived at his brother’s new house. There was still light left in the sky, plenty enough to get his young son and their things into the house without tripping over anything in the dark once he got motivated. He knew that Ade and his family wouldn’t be home that weekend; it was the main reason why he had chosen to come. He knew that Ade wouldn’t mind his little brother coming in for a visit, but Kelly? No. Nix couldn’t handle the contention between himself and his sister in law at the moment, especially when she was under such stress from their recent move.

In the course of three weeks, his life had not only been turned upside down, it had been rudely flipped over and shaken fiercely until the crumbs that remained were jarred loose and spilled upon the counter of fate. A former addict, Nix had been clean for ten years until his best friend was murdered at the beginning of July. That had taken more out of Nix than he could have ever imagined. Sabaste ran with a rough crowd, but he knew the struggles Nix was going through and kept his inner demons away from him as he divided his life between the streets and his best friend. Sabaste was the closest thing Nix had to family in Quebec since Ade lived so far away, and even further still when Ade was working as a Derrickman on the oilrigs.

While he was alive, Sabaste had been known on the streets as Phantom. It was the name that first drew Nix to the energetic young man. At first, Nix had felt an attraction to him; Sabaste was small but well-built with dark eyes that could give you a soulful reproach in an instant. He was witty, spirited and sometimes could be violent if you crossed him in the wrong way. Otherwise, he was laidback and a bit of a goof. His family had come from Brazil a few generations back, and his dark hair, olive skin and pride in his work gave Nix comfort because sometimes, people assumed they were brothers. However, as time drew on, Nix realized that Sabaste only had eyes for the women, but he was happy to be his friend. As time went on, they became nearly inseparable.

Nix and his family had come from the Bayou. They were French Cajun Creole through and through. Until Nix had moved to Quebec, he had lived life in the bayou until he grew tired of being poor and bored and isolated. His drug habit started in his early teens, much to Ade’s dismay, and no matter how many times his brother knocked him about the head over it, he just couldn’t shake it. It took a nickel in the joint to clean him up, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt that it took jail of all places to help him kick the habit after all the money Ade shelled out on rehab centers.

Nix leaned back in the seat, running his hand through his hair, feeling the stubble on the sides of his mohawk. He sighed deeply, and looked over at his son.

"I'm sorry bud... but I just can’t help what I'm doing... or what I’m going to do." He could feel that itch in his veins, the siren song the stress was singing for the drugs. His brain remembering the feeling of the warmth that would get wrapped around it when he took a hit. Some people would have their mouth water at the smell of cookies, or the sight of cake. His brain was drooling at the thought of the needle, the blood being pulled back into the syringe, and then the flush of heated warmth flowing into him.

Jayce was nearly three years old, the product of a one night stand with a stripper; but that didn’t matter to Nix. He loved his son and doted on him. Sabaste had teased Nix non-stop when he found out that Nix was a father, calling him a hetero-drunk.

“Kay,” Jayce said softly. His speech and motor skills were developing slowly for a child his age; he had been diagnosed as autistic when he was around fourteen months old. He didn’t learn to walk until he was nearly two, but he was sweet, and loving and liked to play off by himself and let the world go on without him.

"Come on bud, let’s get inside. I’m sure it's cooler in there," Nix said, getting out. His legs felt rubbery as he walked around the front of the van, and his knees trembled as he lifted the small child out of the seat and set him on his hip. "At least if I go and do something dumb, I know you'll be safe," he whispered as he gently smoothed Jayce’s unruly hair down.

He was feeling so lost, so defeated right now and death was sounding pretty good. It seemed like lately, every time he got close to someone, something bad would happen to them. Nix walked up to the wraparound porch, and then bent down to snag the spare key. Ade was predictable and always insisted that a spare be taped beneath one of the porch steps, and then he climbed those steps slowly while his head pounded as if a maniac were trapped inside, beating the walls furiously. It helped a little knowing that the little plastic baggy was in his front pocket with two syringes. His tongue was dry as he scraped it over his lips while he let himself into the house. “All right, little bud,” he said. “You stay right here, I’ll get your toys, okay?”

“Kay,” Jayce said softly.

Nix gave his child a loving pat on the head, and then went back out to his ramshackle van. He got the plastic bucket full of Legos, picking them up with familiar ease. Part of his brain was screaming for the hit, wanting it right now. Another part was trying to talk him out of it, to just toss the black tar poison away, begging Nix not to go down that path again. A third part was talking soothingly to him. 'It’s just a little hit, just a bump to get you over all this. This will help you get over all this pain, with what little sanity you have left, still intact. Besides, it’s a light cut, very light. You’ll hardly even feel it.'

"Here we go," Nix said as he returned to the parlor. He put the tub on the floor for his son, and then shut the storm door and threw the bolt. When Jayce had sat down and scooted towards the bucket, Nix knew it was safe to get a little fix. He walked into the living room and took a moment to look around. It was well appointed and comfortable. Kelly kept a tidy home and the pain struck him that when they were moving in, his best friend had at best, over a week left to live. His angelic face was drawn down with sorrow as he sat down on the couch, tossing the heavy, waist length braid over his shoulder. Though he wore his black hair in a mohawk, he had never cut the tail, not since he was a child.

He rubbed his hands on his pants, getting the clammy sweat off his palms, and then dug into his pocket, digging out his old 'hit kit'. With the flick of his lighter, he went to work, melting the tar, loading the needle. He used his belt to tie off his arm, getting those healthy, healed veins to pop up to the surface.

Nix looked at the needle, and then his arm, one last look before the plunge.

Taking a deep breath, he popped it under his skin, and pulled back, and then pushed in. The old familiar warmth hit him like a polar fleece freight train. He let out a sigh, his whole body going limp and warm, like he was sliding into a hot tub.

Through the archway that led from the parlor to the living room Jayce continued to sit in the floor, playing with his Lego’s while his dad took his first hit in just over ten years.

*****

“So… it wasn’t real French,” Billy mused as he and Gregg began their walk down Aldana road. They had met Ade for the first time last week when he came home to help finish unpacking. Much to Ade’s dismay however, he hadn’t been able to get time off from his job quickly enough to get home and help his girls as much as he would have liked.

“I knew it was, it was close,” Gregg agreed. After the second night of listening to the man chew up the English language thoroughly before swallowing, as Billy had put it, they had decided to visit a friend in town. He haunted the local library and had been a great help. He was also lonely, so the boys stayed a few days with him, perusing the dusty books during the night and tripping the alarm in the wee hours of the morning just for the entertainment value. They had learned a lot about the new family, and about their Cajun heritage.

“I think I have enough information now to study. I just hate that trip up and back from town. I need to sleep for a week just to recharge,” Gregg said through a yawn.

“I know, we should go more often to keep you from being bored and begging me for books that I don’t have,” Billy said dryly.

“I can’t believe how… big the father is,” Gregg said softly, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I’ve finally seen someone taller than you, too.”

“I’ve never seen that much muscle on a man,” Billy said. “And as tiny as his wife is…”

“I know,” Gregg said softly as they topped a rise. “But, we had a nice time, didn’t we? Got out, got you out of that house. See? There’s the roof, too. It’s still standing.”

“I had no choice,” Billy said honestly. “I like to personalize my hauntings. I need to understand my victims if I want it to be effective.”

“Smart.” Gregg’s brow furrowed in thought. “You didn’t put your barrier up before we left, did you?”

“Yeah, I did, but you know that fades out as soon as the sun rises. Besides, if any ghostly squatters came in while we were gone, I’ll just kick them out.”

“I don’t think many would be stupid enough to try it,” Gregg said.

Billy grunted in agreement as they floated down the driveway, and then paused at the van. “Bet the big man wanted someone to park that here so people wouldn’t case the house while they were gone.” He felt a familiar prickle of fear mixed with agitation. Fear that someone was breaking in, agitation that he had to leave home in the first place.

“Let’s go in,” Gregg urged as he formed into a small ball of energy and zipped along the yard. When they came to the porch, they took their forms and passed quickly through the front door, and it was the sound of a greeting that caused them to give the child a double take.

“Hi,” Jayce said as he watched them float into the parlor.

“Well, hello there,” Gregg said in surprise, and then looked up to Billy with a lifted brow.

“Hi,” Jayce repeated as he lifted up a blue Lego to Gregg. The younger apparition laughed softly and sat down next to the little boy. “Hi,” he said again. “What do you have there?”

“Wego.”

“Ah, I see,” Gregg nodded gently. “And what are you building?”

Jayce put the Lego into his mouth in thought, and Gregg gently removed it as Billy sat down across from him. The little boy was adorable, though he was in dire need of a bath and for someone to brush his hair. He had lively amber eyes, full of life that not even his shaggy bangs could hide. His sweet face was heart shaped and he seemed to have no problem giving away a cheerful smile to the two ghosts. Both spirits knew within moments that something wasn’t quite right about the toddler, but that only made him even more endearing to them.

“Buildin’ a how,” Jayce explained as he grasped the little plastic block from Gregg’s fingers so he could snap it onto the others.

“A what?” Billy asked.

“House,” Gregg corrected softly.

“What’s he doing here alone?” Billy frowned as he looked around. His eyes spotted a form slumped over on the couch, as if the person who had sat down had suddenly fallen asleep and had fallen over. He could smell the minute traces of blood in the air. “Stay with the baby,” Billy whispered.

“What are you going to do?”

“Just stay with the baby,” Billy snapped as he floated through the archway and into the living room. In the late 80’s, a small group of homeless people had squatted in his house. Three of them had overdosed before he could get rid of them. Drug addicts were the worst to haunt; they were already used to seeing things that weren’t there, so they often dismissed ghosts as a result of their high. His dark eyes scanned the table in front of Nix, and Billy let out a snort of disgust. “Heroin,” he called.

“Just remember, Billy, the little one can see us, please don’t do anything that will make him afraid.”

Gregg’s words struck home and Billy eased backwards towards the parlor. He turned and gazed down at Jayce, who was busy building his wall. “He’s filthy,” he said flatly.

“I know. I bet he’s hungry, too,” Gregg said. “Well, maybe we should take care of him before you take care of his dad, but don’t kill him, okay? Everyone needs their dad.”

*****

“All right, little one,” Gregg said as he got the water running in the claw foot tub in Kelly’s master bathroom. “Let’s get you all cleaned up.” He lifted Jayce’s shirt off and helped the child undress. “I don’t think I have anything for you to wear, so we’ll have to go looking in Jenn’s room.”

“Kay,” Jayce agreed as he peered into the tub. “Uh oh…”

“What’s wrong?” Gregg asked as he tossed Jayce’s clothing into the hamper.

“No duggie.”

“No duggie?” Gregg frowned, and then it hit him. “You have a little ducky to take a bath with?”

“Yuh,” Jayce agreed.

“Well, tonight we’ll have to do without the ducky, but I promise you, tomorrow night, I’ll make sure it’s with you.”

“Kay,” Jayce said with a disappointed sigh. Gregg lifted him up and placed him into the water as Billy began searching the fridge downstairs for something to cook for the child.

“Let’s see here…” Billy sighed as he squatted down to peer at the lower shelves. One thing he had to give Kelly credit for, she fed her children three times a day and made sure they ate at the table. There was a rule in that house that no one ate alone in their rooms, nor did they take their meals in front of the television. Usually there were plenty of left overs, and since they were only planning to be gone for the weekend, he found the casserole sitting in the back in a Tupperware container. “Hey, Gregg?”

“What?” Gregg called down. He was busy washing Jayce’s hair. “Tip your head back, let’s not get this in your eyes, baby,” he said softly.

“Is he too young for… I think this is a Shepard’s pie or something…”

Gregg frowned as he leaned Jayce back further to rinse his hair. “I think it’ll be fine,” he said after a moment. “If not, we’ll fix him something else.” Gregg grimaced as the fridge door slammed shut downstairs. “Or, we can play it your way and throw a little tantrum,” he sighed, and then smiled down to Jayce’s face. “Isn’t that right?”

“Kay,” Jayce smiled up to Gregg, his face lighting up at the gentle attention.

“Do I have to use the microwave?” Billy called up, his temper indeed flaring.

“Can you turn the oven on and heat it up like that?”

“Will that take a long time?” Billy went to the oven, snatching the door open and peering into it. Sometimes, people left pots and pans inside. Thankfully, Kelly didn’t. “What do I turn the oven on to?”

“Turn it to 350 and when it beeps, put the casserole in and it’ll warm up in about twenty minutes.”

“Will this plastic it’s in melt in the oven?”

“Yes.”

“Then what should I do?”

“Use the microwave,” Gregg called down. There was a loud bang, followed by a metallic clatter. Gregg smirked as he pulled the plug for the drain, and then looked at Jayce as he did a fair mimic of Julia Childs to the little one. “And then, we slam the doors and throw a fit, because apparently, we forgot how to be a big boy today.” Jayce grinned and let out a heart felt giggle.

After turning the oven off and putting the meal in the microwave to heat up, Billy walked to the doorway and peered into the living room with narrowed eyes. He was offended that he was playing babysitter and chef to someone else’s child while said someone else was passed out on the couch, snoring thickly. He grumbled deeply in his chest. “Buddy, you’re gonna pay for this,” he growled.

*****

Gregg slowly bit his lower lip as he tried hard not to laugh. Apparently, Jayce didn’t like eating with utensils and every attempt Billy made to place one in his hand failed miserably. Billy’s temper was growing, as was the Jayce’s.

“Use. The spoon…” Billy hissed as he pressed the utensil into Jayce’s palm.

“Nuh!” Jayce barked out, his eyes hard and stubborn as he glared up to Billy.

“Use the spoon!”

“Nuh!” Jayce lifted his hand and threw it as hard as he could. It caught the far edge of the table and spun in the air before clattering to the floor. Billy lifted his hand and it came skittering back to them. He reached down and plunked it hard on the table before picking up a fresh one.

“Spoon!”

“Nuh!” There was nothing in his hand for Jayce to throw, so he smacked his little palm on the tabletop to drive home his point.

“You know, he really looks like you when he’s making that face…”

“You’re not helping,” Billy scowled at Gregg. He let out a groan as Jayce went back to eating with his fingers.

“Just relax, if he’s getting food, that’s all we need to worry about, we just shouldn’t worry about… how. We’ll… work on silverware later.”

“We shouldn’t be working on anything, his father should be working on him. This is not our child!”

“He’s not,” Gregg agreed. “But that doesn’t mean we have to get angry.”

“Did you have to dress him up like a girl?” Billy yelled as he gestured towards Jayce, who was happy now that he was being left alone.

“What did you want me to do, let him run around naked?”

“He has his own clothes… doesn’t he?”

“Do you want to go digging through that van? I bet everything in there stinks like cigarette smoke and sweat and who knows what else!” Gregg said, his own irritation being tested at the moment. Gregg had a temper that made Billy look like a ray of sunshine on his worst day, which was the reason why he kept it so well checked. “Look…” he said as he forced himself to calm down. “It’s been a long few days for us, I’m sure it’s been longer for them. Let’s just get the baby fed, I’ll put him in Kelly’s bed and you can handle his dad. There’s no sense in getting angry, anger isn’t the cure for situations like this.”

As Gregg spoke, Billy plunked a spoon into the middle of Jayce’s bowl. The little boy looked up slowly, pinning the blond with an expression of disbelief.

“Yeah, I did that,” Billy said snidely. “What are you going to do about it?” He closed his eyes and mentally berated himself that he wasn’t fast enough to switch out of his solid form as the loaded spoon struck him square in the forehead, leaving behind warm potatoes and meat as it clattered to the table.