12. Over the Brink (D1)

__ After Ardy washed off the crystal ball, she buffed it with a kitchen towel until it glinted like real German crystal. She was vaguely aware of Munson's threats in the other room and hoped the killer wouldn't intimidate Douglas while he was taped to the big chair.
__ Still, she hurried, wanting to get back to the store owner to give her demonstration. She had to find something new in his mind. She couldn't very well tell him she knew he was coming here with the intention of playing the part of "gentleman caller." That would be instantly embarrassing and could lead to anything from a fearful outburst of some kind to Douglas just bolting for the door and away to who-knows-where. Besides, it would give Munson ammunition. She had to find something harmless. Something inside his mind, perhaps a memory from childhood that --
__ A glint bounced off the crystal ball, a yellow flash reflected from the small light above the range, and stabbed her in the eyes. Ardy felt herself real back, twirling and shrinking as she floated and sank out of her tumbling body. Not having anything to support it, Ardy watched as her unconscious form tilted back before falling forward, crystal ball still held out before it, as it thumped into the counter and partially-open silverware drawer. The weight of her body caught the drawer and snapped it out of its tracks as the crystal ball rolled out of its hands and cracked on the floor.
__ Ardy wanted to close her minds eye to the fall. She wouldn't feel the pain her body felt, but she would feel the aftermath when she re-entered it. Mentally wincing, she followed her body as it tumbled over the wrecked drawer and fall in slow motion toward the tumble of broken plywood, plastic trays, and silver forks, knives, and spoons.
__ Ooh, I hope I don't --
__ The sensation was immediate and alarming. A cold spike of energy shot through her corporeal self and suddenly everything seemed even clearer and brighter than it was before. Her "psychic imagery" as she thought to call it was now as intense as a 360-degree high definition Dolby surround sound extravaganza. The blaring IMAX-like images were bright and colors exploded that she had never noticed before. Every intense detail of the tile floor, her body's clothes, the tiny crack in the outlet where the toaster was plugged, every scratch and knick in the silverware, and every one of the thousand or so infinitesimal impurities in the molded glass sphere of her crystal ball.
__ Then her body rolled onto its side and she saw it. The handle of the steak knife jutting from her chest. "Oh, no! NO!"
__ Ardy tried to will herself back into her form, straining to get back into her body, reach up, and pull the knife out with her last ounce of strength.... but she could do nothing but watch.
__ Watch... as Douglas Testerbird knelt beside her and began to weep.
__ "No, no! God, no. I can't be dead! I can't!"
__ And then it happened.
__ The room suddenly became crowded with other bodiless spirits like her own. Blue glowing images at first, the coalesced and became solid forms. Men, women, children. She recognized none of them, but they were all familiar somehow. They were all kind, welcoming, and reaching out to her with gentle, sorrowful faces. She could see that they were reading her pain and empathized with her shock. They called her by name, "Ardy," "Ardelene," "Miss Jacobi," "Daughter," "Sister."
__ She wanted to go with them, be comforted by them.
__ A kind male spirit approached her, his outstretched arms hidden in the sleeves of a long robe. He said, "Come, Ardelene."
__ I can't believe this. Ardy was a regular church-goer, though she was shunned by her own congregation. When they heard about her line of work, they called her such silly things as "false prophet," "Purveyor of lies," and "heathen."
__ She felt bad about the perceptions, but could not help who and what she was. In fact, her role as "Psychic Advisor" -- while indeed fake -- was to provide comfort and guidance to people who needed it. Most of the time she guided people to the very church where she was ostracized and relegated to sit shyly in the back corner pew, to come in late and leave early. She used a mainstream hocus-pocus parody to turn people to God.
__ While Ardy wasn't exactly prepared to leave this earth, the warmth and love she was feeling from the crowd, and the man leading them in particular, was too much to resist. All her cares and earthly worries were leaving her, dropping and shedding away from her. Everything from the murderer in her living room to the tiniest blemish on her physical form, every care and worry, every thought, was melting away rapidly and being replaced by the most intense heartfelt and unconditional love she had ever imagined.
__ And then it all stopped.
__ While her cross-over to death was heralded by a cold snap, her cross back into life was a hot, painful rip.
__ Ardy's chest heaved ceilingward and she gargled a bloody gasp as the knife ejected itself from her bosom. Her body was suddenly heavy, gawky, filled with tiny aches and pains and pressures she hadn't felt on the other side.
__ And the only thing she could hear from her incredibly deaf ears, was a warm voice saying, "There is much yet for you to do. It cannot be your time, Ardelene. You must save him."
__ Another bloody gasp and rasping coughs jarred her whole body. Her limbs felt cold and clammy, her blinking eyes burned because they had frozen open in death and were dry, and she felt an uncomfortable dampness in her pants as her body had released its hold on her at the moment of death.
__ She sat up and tore at her shirt to see the wound left by the knife. There was none.
__ But the blade, held in Douglas' shaking fist, was as bloody as a prop in a horror film.
__ Douglas feinted, dropping the knife harmlessly and collapsing backwards off his knees.
__ R. Lee Munson called from the other room, "What the hell is goin' on in there!?"
__ Ardy cleared her throat and stood on shaky legs. "Hell has nothin' to do with it, R. Lee. Nothin' at all."
__ Or, she wondered, was hell yet to come?