Flesh and Blood: Episode Eight
Murder in Your Heart
When Mae Bishop finally did in her abusive husband and dumped his body in the river, she thought her troubles were behind her. When his ghost shows up and leads her away from the police and straight into the lair of a serial killer, she realizes trouble never left. And when a mysterious angelic being recruits her for purposes yet unknown, Mae knows she and trouble are in it for the long haul.
You're reading Flesh and Blood. This is Episode Eight.
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The diner was busy with the early lunch crowd. Mae's mouth watered at the smells of frying bacon and syrupy pancakes. Her stomach emitted a violent growl while she held the door for a young family wrangling an enormous stroller. Once inside, she looked around for some clue as to whom she was supposed to be meeting. Wade hadn't given her any helpful information. "Sit anywhere you like," a harried waitress barked as she passed by carrying a tray loaded down with burgers and fries. "Someone'll be right with ya."
With none of the diner's patrons standing out as an obvious choice, Mae grabbed a spot at the counter. She'd take care of her stomach before worrying about her meeting. "Sausage, pancakes and coffee," she told the waitress who slid a menu in front of her. The waitress whisked the menu away and returned shortly with a mug and a carafe. She filled the mug and left again, and Mae took a tentative sip. That's when she noticed the TV mounted behind the counter, and almost choked.
Her face floated in the bottom right corner of the screen, superimposed over an aerial shot of the house of horrors she'd escaped the day before. "Victim or Vigilante?" a caption under her old driver's license photo read, while a ticker at the bottom of the screen said the local authorities were on day two of a search for human remains.
Mae glanced around. The TV volume was too low to hear anything over the cacophony of clanging plates and silverware, customer chatter and orders being hollered back and forth between the waitstaff and the short order cook. No one appeared to pay any attention to the screen. Even so, Mae ducked her head and fought the urge to touch her wig and sunglasses to make sure they were still there.
"Horrific, isn't it?" a voice asked behind her. Mae turned to see an androgynous-looking person watching the TV over her shoulder. "They say he's suspected of killing at least a dozen young women, perhaps more."
Mae glanced back at the TV. Her photo had been replaced by one of her would-be killer. "Yeah," she muttered. "It's awful."
"I can only imagine." The speaker looked at her significantly, then stood back and motioned toward an empty booth by the window. "Why don't you join me over here, and we can discuss it further?"
Mae turned on her stool to fully regard this person. They were tall enough she had to crane her neck, with close-cropped hair so blond it was almost white. They wore a gray linen suit, tailored and very tasteful. Mae couldn't tell a single thing about their gender. Everything about the person felt out of place in this small-town diner, which seemed as good a sign as any that this was who she was there to meet. She nodded, picked up her coffee, and followed them to the table.
"Wade told me you would have answers," she said as she slid into the booth.
"Perhaps. What are the questions?"
"Well, for starters, what the hell is going on? Why am I seeing my dead husband? Why did he lead me straight to the lair of a damn serial killer? And just who the hell are you, anyway?"
"My name is unimportant."
"Oh, come on. I've got to call you something."
"Call me whatever you like."
Mae regarded her new companion a moment. "All right. Ziggy."
The other quirked a pale eyebrow. "Why Ziggy?"
"Ziggy Stardust? You've got a real 'seventies-era Bowie vibe going on."
The other eyebrow joined the first. "Interesting."
"Never mind. Let's get to the answers."
"Very well." Ziggy folded their forearms on the table and leaned in. "Your husband was chosen to be your guide."
"Guide? Guide for what?"
"We'll get to that."
Mae huffed. "Fine. Why Wade?"
"For penance."
"Isn't it a little late for penance once you're already in Hell?"
"Not his penance."
Mae's eyes narrowed. "If you're saying I should feel guilty for what I did--"
"And that is why you need penance."
Mae sat back, not knowing what to say. She sipped her coffee, swallowing anger along with it. Both went down bitter.
Setting her cup down, she motioned toward the TV. "What was that, then? More penance?"
"That was a test."
"A test? For what?"
Ziggy's eyes narrowed a bit, and an enigmatic smile played at the corners of their mouth. "The way you took care of matters with your husband got our attention. The purpose of yesterday's trial was to see whether we were right about you. Think of it as a rite of passage. Baptism by blood."
"Baptism by blood, alright. You people don't deal in metaphors, do you? And who is we?"
"You are full of questions, aren't you?"
When it became clear Ziggy wasn't going to answer that one, Mae moved on. "I still don't know why you singled me out. I'm hardly the first battered woman to reach the breaking point and do what I did."
"Let's just say, we've had our eye on you for some time. The shade assigned to your husband was impressed by you."
"Shade?"
Ziggy's fingers drummed on the table. They regarded Mae as though taking her measure, or maybe deciding just how much to tell her. "Behind the curtain of your world, unseen by you and the vast majority of humankind, a constant battle is waging. A battle for souls. For influence. For control."
"You mean, like, possession?"
Their mouth twisted into a moue of distaste. "Sometimes. But that's a different class of beings altogether."
It felt like something many-legged skittered down Mae's spine, making her shudder. Her voice rasped like sandpaper as she asked, "What are you?"
"I am of significantly higher status. And I can help you."
"How?" She shut her eyes and shook her head. "I mean, why? What do you want with me?"
The waitress brought Mae's food over, and set a mug of coffee in front of Ziggy. They made no move to drink it. Mae's stomach growled again, but she also waited. She craved answers more than carbs.
Ziggy unfolded their arms and interlaced their fingers before propping their pointed chin on them. "We are generally forbidden from directly interfering with human matters. We are allowed to influence individuals, as far as they're receptive to it. But we can take no direct action."
"What does that have to do with me?"
"You're human. You have no such restrictions." Ziggy peered across the table at her, waiting.
Mae looked back. It dawned on her for the first time that they hadn't made eye contact. Until now. She found herself staring into something that made her feel extremely small and powerless. How could she have thought for a second that this thing was human?
She tore her gaze away. A glass of ice water had been provided with her meal. Mae reached for it and took a sip, wishing for a much stronger drink. Setting it back down, she said, "You want me to work for you. To... 'interfere.'"
"Wade was right. You are perceptive."
"Like how I interfered with Big Al?"
"When necessary."
Mae swallowed. She looked down at her plate and pushed it away. She hadn't merely lost her appetite -- she actually felt like she might be sick. "No. No way. Find another patsy." She started to slide out of the booth.
"What about the lives you saved?" That made her halt before standing up. "Not only the two young women you rescued, but future victims. He would have kept going if not for you." As she considered this, Ziggy pressed on. "I can offer you protection from the law. Freedom from worrying about capture. Enough money to eliminate many other worries."
"And all I have to do is hand over my soul?"
"I'm offering you redemption," said Ziggy. "A chance to eliminate the most depraved of your kind, to your eternal benefit."
"Is that so? As far as I remember from Sunday school class, that's not how redemption works."
"Not typically. But your loss of faith, combined with your utter lack of repentance, places you in a precarious position. You've held murder in your heart a long time. Even now, you wish you had killed your husband much sooner than you did." Ziggy paused for a moment, letting the silence hang heavily between them before adding, "It started when he killed your child."
Everything Mae had been through the last couple of days hadn't prepared her for such an out-of-the-blue gut punch. Suddenly she was back on that kitchen floor, the wind knocked out of her, curled into a ball and clutching her stomach in pain. It wasn't the punch that hurt, but the stabbing from within, like knives trying to cut her open from the inside out. She'd felt the gush of blood between her legs and gasped for air, trying to draw enough strength to make it to the bathroom and clean herself up before Wade saw.
"I should've killed him as soon as I found out I was pregnant."
"But instead you ran. He found you, though."
Mae nodded. "He dragged me home. That's why he beat me, that time." She swallowed, but it didn't go down easy. She sipped some water and licked her lips. "He didn't know what he'd done. I never told him about the baby." She glanced at Ziggy and found no sympathy, no judgment, in their gaze. Only cold, passive interest. "And you think I'm supposed to repent for finally putting an end to that bastard?"
Ziggy leaned back and said nothing for a moment. Then they leaned forward again, clasping their hands and resting them on the table. "Some souls are irredeemable. They all have their chance, but they make their choice and they will never change. Some, however, eventually find their way to the light, even after decades steeped in darkness."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that your husband would have truly repented and changed his ways if he had been allowed the chance to do so. That's why it's not for such as you to decide when to end a life."
Mae felt ill. She didn't want to think about Wade coming around. She used to pray for exactly that, but she'd given up after the baby, when all she had left for him was hate. Did she hate him so much that she wouldn't have spared him if she'd known he would change?
"The important question is, have you passed the point of being redeemable? Are you destined to follow your late husband to Hell?"
"Why don't you tell me?"
"I like to think not. And I can guarantee it if you agree to work for us."
Mae's lip curled up in a disgusted sneer. "God's resorting to extortion now?"
"My dear, I never claimed to work for Him."
She scoffed in disbelief. "If you're trying to recruit me to work for the other side--"
"Not at all. I represent a neutral faction. Think of us as sort of a celestial oversight committee. It's our job to maintain balance, to make sure forces on either side don't overstep their bounds."
"So you're, what? Like the angelic police?"
"More like the angelic CIA. And you wouldn't be the first human agent we've recruited."
Mae looked around the diner. If anyone was listening in on their conversation, they were doing a good job of pretending everything was normal. "This is completely insane."
Ziggy reached into their suit and produced a small card. They lay it on the table and slid it across to Mae. "If you agree to work for us, be at this address in two days."
Mae picked the card up and studied it. "This is in Chicago."
"Yes, and I believe it's quite a drive from here. You'd better get started soon. If you accept my offer, that is."
"You make it sound like I have a choice."
"Oh, my dear, you always have a choice. That's the entire point of free will." They once again leaned in close. "But if you want to save your soul, avoid Hell and someday be reunited with your daughter" – at Mae's astonished look, Ziggy nodded. "Oh, yes. Your child would have been a girl. Her soul lives on. This is your one chance to be with her again."
Tears began to pool in Mae's eyes. She tried to blink them away. When she spoke, her voice was barely more than a whisper. "What would I have to do?"
"Only what you've already been doing. But we'll choose your targets. You should be aware that you'll face opposition--much worse than Mr. Stimpson. But you'll also have allies. You'll have room and board, and we'll do what we can to shield you as far as the law is concerned."
Mae rubbed her thumb back and forth over the address. "But what if--" Her question was cut off by a loud crash behind her. By reflex, she turned to see what made the sound. A waitress had dropped a tray, and was apologizing profusely to a group of customers. Mae turned back around. "What if--"
Ziggy was gone. Mae scanned the rest of the diner, and looked out the window, but there was no sign of them.
Just then, the waitress stopped by. "Everything all right here? Need any refills?"
"It's fine," said Mae. "Did you see where the person I was with went to?"
The waitress looked at her strangely. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I only saw you sitting here."
"But you brought them..." She trailed off, seeing that Ziggy's coffee mug had moved to her side of the table. "Never mind."
The waitress nodded, giving her a strange look, and left. Only then did Mae remember that she was a wanted fugitive who shouldn't be drawing attention to herself. She stared at the card she still held in her hand, the only evidence she hadn't been hallucinating. Unless she was imagining that, too. She tucked the card into her jeans pocket and then took a bite of her pancakes. She dropped the fork back on her plate with a mixture of disgust and defeat.
She had lost her appetite.
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