Chapter Eleven
Time Unknown
"Mother! oh, sing me to rest. As in my bright days departed: Sing to thy child, the sick-hearted, Songs for a spirit oppress'd."
Lizzie heard the muffled words, muffled and so far away, but comforting. She'd heard that song, Mother, Sing Me to Rest, in church when she was younger at a baby girl's funeral. It had been so lovely. So haunting.
She could hear Heaven, hear the souls of the dead singing, and it was pure torture. The people above her… the people in Heaven got to sing songs to God, songs to Jesus, and be happy. She wasn't happy. She was down below. Down in Hell. Alone. Cold. Unable to move. Unable to speak. She didn't remember the last time she'd said anything. Had nothing to say. Time meant nothing in Hell. A few times, she thought about yelling at the people in Heaven, just to see if they could hear her, but she thought better of it. So far, the Devil had left her alone. If she yelled, he might find her, and that would be worse than she had it now. So she didn't dare even whisper. Simply mouthed the familiar words, wishing things were different and she could have a second chance.
****
"What happened?" Lizzie sat up with Shane's help. She gripped his hand as tightly as she could and leaned her head against his soft bed. Her lungs felt heavy, unused, like they had cobwebs in them, and something sticky was all over the floor and her dress.
"Easy, girl," Shane said as he held her upright. She rolled her eyes up to him and swore he was concerned.
"Lizzie?" a different man said from a few feet away. Her eyes followed the sound until she laid her eyes on a dark-headed, clean cut feller kneeled down and staring at her pretty intently. To his right stood Cheyenne, short pants showing more leg than Lizzie had ever seen on a woman — or a man for that matter — and a white shirt that accentuated every curve she had. Her mother would have died if she'd dressed like that in her time.
Shane said no to the strange man's question and she said yes in the same instant. He looked at her with an annoyed raised brow and it hit her what he had told her earlier. She couldn't trust anyone. Maybe the stranger was there to hurt her or he'd take her to be some government experiment. She got it, but it was way too late. She'd already given her name. "Uh… no?" She looked intently at Shane and he just shook his head at her sad attempt at deception. Okay, so she wasn't the grandest liar.
"I saw you dead," the other guy said and pointed to the floor. "When Cheyenne and I walked in, you were dead. Like dead dead, and now you're not. How?"
"I wasn't dead." She scoffed and squeezed Shane's hand tighter.
"Really?" He crossed his arms, challenging her.
"I was, uh, coughing."
"Up blood," the other guy said
"And then it stopped," Lizzie said hastily.
"When Shane put the ring back on your finger… and oh yeah, the slashes on your wrists closed. I watched them." The other guy would not ease up.
Lizzie wasn't a violent person, but she would have liked to pop this new guy in the mouth. Couldn't he stop being such a know it all? "That's impossible."
"And yet it happened."
"Drake." Shane's voice was low and calculating, almost threatening. If it were her Shane had used the tone with, she would have clamped her mouth shut in a heartbeat, but not this guy he called Drake. He took it as an invitation to dig deeper. His eyes even got a new little amused sparkle in them.
"Shane." His tone matched Drake's. "You have to admit that this is Lizzie Monroe. The Lizzie Monroe. Don't insult your intelligence or mine and claim it's not."
"Don't equate my intelligence with yours. That's insulting," Shane said snarkily.
"I can't believe it." Cheyenne fell back against the desk like her legs had given out. She was growing strangely pale. "It's Lizzie Freakin' Monroe. In our house. Alive in our house."
"Have you two heard yourselves? You sound insane!" Shane shook his head and rubbed Lizzie's hair out of her eyes.
"It's not insane if it's true." Cheyenne said while crossing her arms.
"It's not what you think," Shane said, clearly trying to find some sort of a way out. Lizzie hated to tell him, but she didn't see one. She'd given them their ammunition when she said her name was Lizzie — and when she'd died on the floor.
"Oh!" Drake jumped up, making Lizzie flinch. "I've got it. The ring's keeping her alive," he said matter of factly, pointing at her hand. "It is, isn't it? Does it just work for her or can anyone use it?"
Shane hung his head and drew in a deep breath. He bit his lip and looked like fire could erupt from his nostrils. He obviously didn't like this guy. Lizzie barely knew him, but she knew he wasn't her favorite person either. He couldn't leave well enough alone. "I don't know," Shane said simply.
"You don't know?" Drake answered incredulously. "Dude, why don't I believe that?"
"I don't."
"I've been here all of five minutes, and I know everything."
"You think you know everything," Shane challenged.
"I know," he said with a much deeper voice. "Lonely Lizzie tried to kill herself by slitting her wrists. That's why they were bleeding when we came in, and the ring was off. When I walked in the door, I saw you put it back on and voila, she's alive again. So, I daresay, it's the ring. I ask again, is it just Lizzie or can anyone use it?"
"And I'll tell you again, I don't know," Shane said forcefully. He gripped Lizzie's hand tightly. She didn't know if he meant to or not, but she squeezed it back.
"Sure, you don't." Drake scoffed.
"I don't." Shane stopped, shut his eyes, and took a deep breath. "Look, we just found out about the ring. We were trying out a theory when you walked in," Shane said.
"We?" Drake smirked. He pointed from Lizzie to Shane. "Tell me you haven't actually been sleeping with the dead girl, have you Shane?"
Shane jumped to his knees, but Lizzie grabbed his arm to keep him from attacking Drake. She wasn't worth it.
Shane looked down at her, his face hard. "He needs to learn to keep his mouth shut."
Lizzie opened her mouth to speak, but Drake beat her to it. "And I bet you are the one to teach me, right, Davis?"
"Shut up," Cheyenne said, stepping in front of Drake. "You two just cool it. You're acting like children."
"He started it." Drake sat back down on the rolling chair in a huff. He ran his hands thought his hair and sighed.
Lizzie tugged on Shane's arm to pull him down to her. He complied, but didn't seem pleased about it. He wrapped his fingers around hers, holding her hand. If Lizzie's heart could beat, it would have beat out of her chest. Even though he was holding her hand, he kept his eyes on Drake and Cheyenne. Lizzie wasn't even sure he knew he was holding her hand, but Lizzie knew and she didn't try to let go.
"Have you ever had the ring off? Until now?" Drake asked Lizzie.
She shook her head and cleared her throat. She had to think of something beside how warm Shane's hand felt against hers. "No. Just then. Can't say I enjoyed the results."
"No, I guess not," Drake said, his voice much deeper and far away. His entire expression changed, and he seemed to be thinking very hard about something.
"You can't tell anyone, though." Lizzie shot out before she could stop herself. These two knew her secret. Shane she could probably trust, but not these two. She didn't know them and didn't trust either of them. They hadn't given her a reason to yet.
Drake sputtered a laugh. "Why's that?"
"Lizzie," Shane admonished with a growl and squeezed her fingers a little tighter. "Don't give them any more ammunition. It's not worth trying to find compassion in the heartless."
"I have a heart," Drake shot back. "It's just I only show it to people who truly need it. Like my mother…"
"And my sister, and the random girl you slept with last week," Shane mumbled loud enough for Drake to hear him. Lizzie expected another explosive response. He gave nothing.
She just ignored the both of them, being on some sort of autopilot. "You can't tell because the governmen
t will get me."
Shane slapped his head with his free hand, and Cheyenne's jaw dropped. Drake smiled an amused grin. "The government? Were people in the 1800s paranoid too? Or…" he cut his eyes to Shane. "Were you fed some information to keep you scared and locked up in Shane's room like a corpse he could use whenever he wanted?"
"Can it, Drake. You know as well as I do if anyone finds out about her, they'll run tests. They'll do God knows what, and I feel sort of responsible for her."
"Because you burned down the church?" Cheyenne added.
"Yes." Shane huffed. "Because I burned down the church, alright? I'm responsible for her because I found her in the church I burned down. Happy?"
Lizzie sat up straighter and bore a hole in Shane with her eyes. "Wait. You said it was an accident. You mean, you really did mean to burn it down?"
****
Between Drake and Cheyenne and the accusing eyes of Lizzie sitting next to him, Shane honestly just wanted to crawl in a hole. This had been the worst two days ever, and that was saying a lot. He wished, not for the first time, that Preston hadn't talked him into burning the stupid thing down. Sure, it hadn't taken much convincing, but it hadn't been anything but trouble since. To be fair, though, it wasn't like he knew a very undead Lizzie Monroe would be there in Technicolor.
"You know what? Whatever. It's burned. It's done." He faced Lizzie. Her hurt expression pained him more than it should have. Instinctively, he pulled her knuckles to his lips and kissed them gently. "And I'm sorry, I truly am, that I burned your church down and nearly burnt you to a crisp. But it's over. Let's move on."
From the corner of his eye, he saw his sister smiling from the desk. "Wow. A red letter day. Shane Davis actually apologized."
"Don't get used to it." He jumped from the floor and stepped over Drake to shut the bedroom door. It felt good to get away from them, even if it was a short span of time. "It doesn't change the fact that we have to all be united here in not telling anyone about Lizzie."
Drake stood and leaned next to Cheyenne on the desk. He put his dirty arm around her shoulder and it took everything Shane had not to go over and knock it off. Why couldn't his sister date someone decent? He'd take whiney Preston over this loser any day.
"How do you plan on hiding her? It's not like her picture isn't everywhere. She's pretty infamous around here," Drake said.
"I'm infamous?" Lizzie asked from the slump on the floor. Shane didn't pay any attention to her though.
"That's it!" he yelled when it hit him. Why hadn't he thought of it before? It wasn't a curse to have Cheyenne knowing about Lizzie. Maybe it wasn't so smart Drake knowing, but he couldn't change that.
"What's it?" his sister asked.
"Neither of you recognized Lizzie was the Lizzie Monroe until she told you, right? Cheyenne, you even saw her last night and this morning and it didn't click."
"Right. I just thought she was…"
He held his hand up to cut her off. "We know what you thought. We don't have to rehash it." At least he could give Lizzie a little break. He knew it was killing her, no pun intended, to be thought of like that.
"But I don't see how that matters," Cheyenne went on. "I'm not good with faces."
"You're good with my face." Drake smiled up at her, making Shane sick. Even his sister rolled her eyes. Good girl.
"Anyway, all we need to do is fix Lizzie's appearance some way. Make it where she doesn't look anything like herself. That way, she'll look even less like herself. Who's really going to think about Lizzie Monroe being among the living?"
"How far are you thinking of taking this?" Cheyenne looked worried. She shouldn't have been.
"Not extreme. Just hair color, a little make up, maybe even contacts."
"All pictures of Lizzie were from the Dark Ages before color, Bro. I don't think her eye color will matter," Drake said, pretty proud of himself that he actually knew that. Shane had known that too, but thought it better safe than sorry.
"What are contacts?" Lizzie asked.
"These things they stick in your eyes to make you see better or change your eye color." He took his hand from hers and used his fingers to charade putting contacts in his eyes. "The point is I think we can hide you in plain sight. No one will question it. They have no reason to."
"So…" Drake's brows knit together and he stood, slowly walking toward Shane. "You want to keep Lizzie as what, your new pet?"
"I'm not keeping Lizzie," he said and glanced at her. Not that he didn't want to. "But it means we can get her to the bus station without having to worry too much about people noticing her."
"And then what? It's not like she has social security papers or even a birth certificate," Cheyenne said then added. "Did they have birth certificates in the 1800s?"
Lizzie opened her mouth to speak, but Shane spoke before she could. "Not important. Let me deal with that. In three days, we can have everything we need to send Lizzie off to a grand ol' life wherever she wants to live."
He got up and hit Drake's shoulder with his fist as he walked past him.
"What's in it for me?"
"Excuse me?" Shane turned to face the jerk.
"What's in it for me to keep quiet? Don't tell me to do it out of the goodness of my heart." Drake scoffed.
"I'd never dream of it. Actually, if you tell anyone about Lizzie, if you tell about the ring, if you even tell what color my sister's underwear is, I'll personally make sure your father, the chief of police and your mommy, the…"
"Don't bring my mom into this, man." Drake stepped dangerously closer, almost touching noses. "Never talk about my mother."
Shane simply smiled. "Sore spot. Mommy not happy with your choice of college?"
"Stop it, Shane. You don't know what you're talking about. Leave his mother out of it. She's not even in town anyway." Cheyenne came to Drake's defense. It irked Shane to no end.
"Where is Mommy?" Like he cared.
"Nashville. So don't even think about talking to her. She has enough on her plate without you bringing this stupid Lizzie thing on her," Drake said, never backing away.
Leverage. Gotta love it. "Then don't tell anyone about Lizzie and your dear ol' parents will never have to find out about a few of your indiscretions. Does Samantha Morris ring any bells?"
"Who's Samantha Morris?" Cheyenne asked, standing up a little straighter.
Drake's eyes looked like saucers. Ah, so he apparently remembered. "Keep my parents and Samantha Morris out of this. They have enough going on."
"Up to you." It was actually nice to have Drake over a barrel.
"Fine." Drake gritted his teeth. "We'll do it your way. I won't tell a soul about the undead Lizzie Monroe and her ring of life." He looked past Shane and down at Lizzie. "I promise."
"Good." Shane slapped him on the shoulder, turned his back to him, and squatted next to Lizzie. Her hair lay in a mess on her head and her wedding dress was ruined with black spots of blood. And his floor, he wasn't sure how it would ever be clean again. One thing was certain, he had to clean the floor. He couldn't leave it for his mom. She was one person who couldn't find out. He didn't think she'd take it as well as the other two had if you counted blackmail as 'well'.
"Look, I know this is a lot to take in," Shane told Lizzie.
"You think?" She tried to grin, but he could see the terror and fear in her eyes. She was handling this as well as she could, and he appreciated it. She was stronger than she gave herself credit for.
"It'll be over with soon. I promise." Shane smiled and tried to make it genuine. He found himself wanting to protect her for some reason. Like she was his responsibility since he'd been the one to find her. "I'll keep looking into the ring, but until then, we have to work on getting you out of Dixon. I don't think people will know you are you in passing, but if you stick around a while, they might. We can't take that chance. So…" He sat down beside her, totally blocking out the other two people in the room. "Is there any place you'd like to go? Any place you'd really like to se
e?"
She seemed to consider it. "I don't even know what's in the world now."
"It's okay. The places are pretty much all still there. Where, in your wildest dreams, have you ever thought of visiting?"
"Hmmm… did the country divide? And who won the war? I suppose that would narrow my choices down."
Shane hadn't thought to tell her that and she hadn't asked. "The North won. It's still one big country. No more Confederate states."
She nodded. "In that case, I've always wanted to go to New York City."
"New York?" Cheyenne spat, clearly surprised. "Honey, I hate to tell you, but it's a lot different than when you were alive… the first time."
"Is it still standing?"
"Well, yeah, but it's just… different. Huge."
"Then I'd blend. I want to blend," Lizzie answered, twisting the most important piece of jewelry ever around her finger. "It would be a good place to start over, no?"
"Yeah, it would be, I guess. You'd definitely get lost in the crowd," Cheyenne agreed.
"How are you going to pay for it?" Drake rejoined the conversation.
"You let me deal with that. I have… connections," Shane said, smiling at Lizzie. "I'll take care of everything, okay? I promise."
Chapter Twelve
Time Unknown
She hadn't moved in… she couldn't remember how long. It was strange. Lonely. Such was Hell. Not hot. No demons screaming around. No other poor souls to spend eternity with, unless they were stuck in their own rooms, their own tiny, shut off pieces of 'heaven'.
Lizzie had no idea how long she'd been in the box. Time didn't mean anything to her. No sun to mark day from night. No change of seasons. No aging.
Eternal boredom.
Eternally alone.
Sometimes she tried to scream, but the sound echoed in her tiny room, ringing her ears. Sometimes, she tried to make up stories, elaborate ones about time travel or rogue detectives figuring out cases no one else could solve. She wished for paper and some ink to write down her mental adventures. Her characters became as alive to her as anyone she'd ever met. A lovely lady named Lilly and her handsome rogue of a man, Daniel. They went on adventures, foiled crime, and made love all night. It got her though the endlessness.
Then out of nowhere, a new smell invaded her nose, something that hadn't happened in forever. A new sound echoed in her ears. And warmth. She hadn't felt anything but the damp cold for so long.