Free Under Attack by Hannah Jayne Page B

Heaven?”
    Grandma raised an eyebrow. “No, I’m in your bathroom mirror.” She dragged another finger across the glass. “Which could use a very good cleaning, by the way. Really, Sophie, I haven’t been gone that long. I know I didn’t teach you to clean house like this,” she tsked.
    â€œCan you come out here?” I stepped back, offering her a space.
    â€œNo. Specters—that’s what we are, specters—isn’t that just a darling way to refer to us? So much better than dead or afterlifers or life-retired. Anywho, specters can only be seen on shiny surfaces.”
    â€œBut why now?” I felt the sting of tears beginning to pool behind my eyes, and I leaned in toward the mirror again. “Grandma, I’ve needed you for so long. The last year of my life has been so ...”
    â€œOh, honey, I know. I have been there; you just weren’t able to see me. It’s a different magic that allows this”—Grandma indicated herself and the mirror—“than you’re used to. This one you might actually not be immune to. I tried to appear before—in stainless steel dishes, in your rearview mirror. Even on a sunny day on the back of Mr. Matsura’s head. That poor man has been balding since he was twenty-three. Took me a little while to get the knack for it.”
    â€œYou showed up on Mr. Matsura?”
    Mr. Matsura was the kindly old man who lived across the hall from me and walked his toy poodle Pickle three times a day.
    â€œMy grandmother appears in my bathroom mirror and on my neighbor’s bald head.” I sat down on the edge of my tub, rubbing my temples. “And now I know why I was driven to drink.” Seeing your dead grandmother projected on the bald head of an aging Japanese man would do that to you. “I guess this is a relief. I thought I was going crazy.”
    â€œThis seems like a really inopportune moment to say, ‘Gotcha!’” Grandma grinned her trademark toothy smile, both her wrinkled hands held shotgun style in front of her.
    â€œAre you here to tell my I’m in mortal danger?” I asked warily.
    â€œNow that would be cliché, wouldn’t it? Dead grandmother appears in bathroom mirror, warning of the evil to come. Wooooo, whooooo!” Grandma did ghostly hands, her wrinkled lips forming an ominous O.
    I laughed. “Yeah, I guess it would be.”
    â€œBut really, Sophie,” my grandma said, the smile dropping from her voice, “you are in danger.”
    â€œYou said you weren’t going to do that!”
    â€œNo, I said it would be cliché. Cliché, but necessary. Now listen to me, Sophie. You are in serious danger. Have you ever heard of the Vessel of Souls?”
    â€œYup. You missed it. Alex Grace, fallen angel. Filled me in on the whole thing.”
    Grandma appeared to be thinking. “Alex Grace? You mean that hot ball of cheesecake you had over last night?”
    â€œHow did you know?”
    Grandma shrugged. “The man had to use the bathroom.”
    â€œGrandma! Did you look?”
    â€œOh honey, I might be old, but I’m not—well, that phrase doesn’t work anymore, now does it? Anywho, enough about Alex. You need to know that you’re being tailed, watched. Someone is looking for you and believe you me it’s not Ed McMahon with one of those big Publishers Clearinghouse checks.”
    â€œSo the driver last night—that was real? Someone really was trying to kill me?” I felt my heart flutter when I thought back to his headlights piercing through the dark night.
    Grandma nodded solemnly.
    â€œDo you know who it is? Also, Ed McMahon is dead.”
    Grandma looked pleased as she clapped her hands in front of her chest. “Really? Dead? I should look him up, maybe invite him to bingo. Oh, honey, I’ve got to run.” Grandma looked over her shoulder. “That’s the breakfast bell. You have to