Donn's Shadow

by Caryn Larrinaga

  “Were you at the grand opening?” Daphne asked me.

  I shook my head. “We had to film an episode that weekend.”

  “Shame,” said Nick. “It was a rager.”

  “If it was anything like this, I believe you,” I said.

  “This is better, though. All the shops were open that night, so I hardly got to enjoy the party.” Daphne popped a cream puff in her mouth and smiled happily.

  “Aren’t you losing money?” I gazed around at the sea of people crammed into the little neighborhood. It was a bigger crowd than I’d ever seen here, even during the brunch rush at the Ace of Cups. Penelope’s decision to close the shops struck me as strange.

  Daphne shrugged. “Penelope only invited people who are part of the permanent community here. City council members, the Chamber of Commerce. You know, mucky-mucks. No tourists. Half the people here have never set foot into my shop and aren’t likely to in the future.”

  Heat touched my cheeks as my eyes flicked toward Daphne’s shop. Gold ink on the window spelled “Visions” in flowing, vintage script. I’d never been inside or visited any other parlor in The Enclave. Whenever Graham and I came here, we made straight for the pub. The other buildings didn’t have any food, so I didn’t really see the appeal.

  She noticed the chagrined expression on my face and laughed. “Don’t feel bad. Readings aren’t everyone’s cup of tea.”

  “I’d like to try it sometime,” I said honestly.

  “You’re welcome anytime. First reading’s on the house.”

  “Thanks,” I said, following them away from the buffet and toward another tall cocktail table. “I’ve heard you’re great. Both of you. I can’t thank you enough for agreeing to do the show this weekend.”

  “It’s our pleasure,” Nick said.

  “We’d do anything for Yuri,” Daphne added. “He’s the reason we moved here.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

  Nick nodded. “I met Yuri a few years ago at a paranormal expo in Vegas. I was finally starting to get some traction, but I was still unknown. He did me a solid and introduced me to some of his contacts. Really helped me get ahead.”

  “Six months later, Nick’s career took off, and we used the first big check to move here,” Daphne said.

  “Best decision you ever made,” said an unfamiliar voice from behind me.

  The muscles in Nick’s face tightened, and I turned to follow his gaze. A short, skinny kid who barely looked old enough to drink the champagne in his hand stood uncomfortably close to me, and I quickly sidestepped to put some space between us. He stepped forward, filling the gap and crowding the table.

  Daphne’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Mac, this is Kev—”

  “Fang,” the newcomer interrupted. He saluted me with his champagne flute then turned to my tablemates. “I hate to steal you away from this lovely young woman,” he said, despite being at least five years my junior. “But I need your help. The old hag is complaining about the Enclave to the town council.”

  Daphne rolled her eyes. “Neighborhood drama. Sorry, Mac. We’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  The adult person who’d decided he wanted to be known professionally as “Fang” pressed his palms together and bowed toward me before straightening up and scuttling after Nick and Daphne.

  Left on my own, I people-watched for a while. The air had a good energy, and the music was just loud enough to give the party some energy without forcing you to shout to be heard by the other people at your own table. I returned to the buffet one more time, snagged more cream puffs, and nibbled my snacks until Graham found me.

  “Kit get home okay?” I asked. Kit’s apartment was in Primrose House too, on the floor below mine. Having your landlord walk you home when you were drunk and angry was just one of many unofficial perks included in the rent.

  “Yeah, I got her settled on the couch.” Graham stole a cream puff, popped it in his mouth, and sighed. “I’m worried about her.”

  “Me too.”

  “Have you talked to Raziel yet?”

  I shook my head. “But his manager came over wanting to talk to Kit.”

  “Kit?”

  “Yeah, there’s some history there.”

  “Well, that explains why she bolted.” Graham nodded toward Amari, who’d joined Yuri and Penelope at Raziel’s side near the bar. “Do you think that’s the real reason Kit was angry they were coming? Because she didn’t want to see his manager?”

  “Could be. But Stephen hates Raziel too. Maybe he’s just that awful.” I stuffed the last brownie into my mouth, finishing my thought around the gooey chocolate. “Let’s go find out.”

  I grabbed Graham’s hand and dragged him through the crowd, stopping in the shadow of the huge statue of Donn that watched over the party from his position on the bar.

  “Ah, here he is now,” said Penelope, tilting her champagne glass toward us. “This is my nephew, Graham Thomas. He’s one of our most popular local artisans and is responsible for this incredible tribute to our town’s namesake.”

  My heart swelled, and I squeezed Graham’s hand. If you’d have told me on my first day in town that I’d want to hug Penelope Bishop, I’d have laughed you right out of the county. Donn’s Hill does strange things to people, I decided.

  Graham’s hand tightened in mine. “Thank you, Penny.”

  “Lovely work,” said Raziel. “I especially like your interpretation of the guardian of Hell that’s protecting the buffet.”

  He lifted his chin toward the food where a three-headed puppy with large, circular eyes appeared to be begging for scraps. It was one of Graham’s latest pieces and the first that’d ever hinted at his weird sense of humor.

  “So whimsical,” Raziel continued. “Well done.”

  The stiffness melted out of Graham’s features. He relaxed into his familiar, slouching posture against the bar and smiled. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

  I hid a smile of my own behind my glass, grateful Kit wasn’t here to witness me having a pleasant conversation with a person she hated so much.

  Up close, Raziel confirmed most of the impressions of him I’d gathered from my research the day before. He had the same air about him as Penelope, where you could immediately tell he had the money to spend on big-name designer brands. Unlike Penelope, though, his style was less Upper East Side and more upscale goth. Up close, I could make out the letters tattooed across his chest: Veritas Vincat. He ignored the trays of champagne, sipping instead from a silver flask engraved with a skull.

  “And you must be Mackenzie Clair.” Raziel held out a hand. “It’s a pleasure.”

  For the second time that night, I was meeting someone who already knew my name. A warm flush crept up my neck as I shook Raziel’s hand, and Amari winked at me from over his shoulder. I got the feeling she was silently laughing at my discomfort. For some reason, that made me feel better.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said. “Welcome to Donn’s Hill. How do you like it so far?”

  “It’s lovely. I’m staying in the attic suite at the Oracle Inn, and it’s full of delightful surprises.” Raziel took a swig from his flask and leaned back against the counter, mirroring Graham’s relaxed posture, and abruptly changed the subject. “So. I heard you’re exorcising the infamous Franklin Cabin ghost this weekend.”

  “Oh…” I was about to ask how he knew about that, since we hadn’t been publicizing it. The only people who knew about it were the psychics I’d invited along and the Soul Searchers themselves. I glanced at Yuri, who looked at me intently but said nothing. I knew immediately he’d told Raziel about the investigation, and there could be only one reason why. I gulped. “Yeah, we are.”

  “I’d like to come along.”

  I knew it. I pictured the scene: the nine of us who were already planning to take part in the séance, and now Raziel and his crew with all their extra equipment? It’d be way too many people. Way too much chaos.

  Gabrielle hadn’t been able to
make good on her promise to mentor me before being arrested for murder, but there was one thing she’d taught me at the very first séance I’d ever attended: nine was a powerful number. And when my weekend plans involved visiting a notoriously haunted cabin to summon a murderous spirit just so I could banish him into the next realm… Well, I needed to make sure I was at maximum power.

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I don’t think it’s a good idea. If we have too many people, Richard Franklin’s ghost might not show up.”

  “I won’t bring my crew,” he pressed. “It’ll just be me and Amari.”

  I thought about Kit and the way her entire demeanor had changed the second Amari had walked into the room. Much as I would derive some eventual pleasure from teasing her, I didn’t want to torture her. Glancing at Amari, I said, “I don’t know if you know the, uh, history between your manager and my producer—”

  Raziel held up both hands to stop me from continuing. Flaming pentagrams were tattooed into each of his palms. “I get it. I don’t want to cramp your style. Just me, then.”

  The weight in my belly that’d earlier threatened to ruin my evening came back. I hated having to say no to people, and Raziel was forcing me to say it again and again. “Look, you probably know this better than I do, since you’ve been in the psychic community a lot longer than me, but everyone has their methods, right? The habits that let them tap into their power? Well, part of my method is that we have nine participants. No more, no less.”

  Yuri frowned at me, peering at me over the tops of his glasses the way he did when he was trying to teach me something important. I could tell what was coming next. He was about to overrule my decision and invite this outsider to the cabin with us. Again, I imagined us all there. Nine of us in a circle, cameras on tripods staring down at us from the fringes. Raziel’s tenth shape was like a shadow in my mind, a negative energy distracting me from the work at hand. It was strange; he’d been so nice to us all so far. His compliments to Graham were enough to buy him several weeks of goodwill in my book. But something deep in my gut shivered at the thought of him joining us for the séance. I knew with a certainty I couldn’t place that it’d be better to call the whole thing off than to have him there.

  I shook my head at Yuri, wishing I had a pair of glasses of my own to glare at him over. “I’m sorry,” I told Raziel again. “It has to be nine. Not ten.”

  A hard glint flashed into his eyes, but he smiled at me. “Another time, then.” He turned to Penelope, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and stepped away from our little circle. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d love to meet more of your local talent.”

  As he walked away, Graham raised an eyebrow at me and mouthed, Are you okay?

  I nodded at him but raised my hands and formed them into two birds. Caw! I mouthed back.

  He grinned. I wanted to smile, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that—despite Raziel’s quick agreement to stay away from the cabin—this wasn’t over.

  Chapter Six

  Two tendrils of steam curled lazily upward from a pair of mugs on Kit’s desk, coaxed toward the ceiling by the cool air drifting in from the open bay window. Striker lay on the cushioned window seat there, her tail swishing back and forth as she gazed at the birdhouse hanging from a large sycamore tree.

  Kit’s apartment sat on the opposite side of Primrose House from mine and one floor down. Like mine, the tiny kitchenette encouraged frequent use of the shared full-sized kitchen downstairs. But unlike my airy studio, which was sparsely furnished and had an open floor plan, Kit’s apartment was a tight collection of several rooms, each more crammed with gear and equipment than the last. Two gigantic computer monitors rested on top of her desk, dominating the living room. Right now, video editing software took up the main screen, and footage of Daphne Martin reading a tourist’s tarot cards played on the secondary monitor.

  Kit eyelids sagged, and she squinted at the screen. Her acid-green hair was matted on one side, but the rest stood straight up in clumps and spikes. Dark circles ringed her eyes, but I couldn’t tell if they were signs of poor sleep or just the remnants of yesterday’s eyeliner. I nudged the mug of coffee I’d brought her and took a sip of my own. She followed my example, sipped, and sighed.

  “How was the rest of the party?” Her voice was a rough croak.

  “Not too bad, except Raziel tried to horn in on our séance.” I filled her in on our conversation, feeling proud of myself for standing up to him the night before.

  She frowned so deeply I thought she was about to swear and spit on the ground, something she’d told me her Russian grandmother would do when confronted by something evil or suspicious. “I knew that weasel would try something like that. I bet he wanted to bring his crew and film the whole thing so he could edit it to make it look like we’re a bunch of frauds.”

  I studied her face, trying to decide if she was being serious or just hyperbolic. It was hard to make out anything under the layer of exhaustion that muted her features. “Is that what he does?”

  “That’s all he does. He hates people like us. It’s his mission in life to destroy us. I think a psychic must have beat the crap out of him when he was a kid or something.”

  “I don’t get it… Why does your dad like him?”

  She rolled her enormous eyes. “No clue.”

  If everything Kit said was true, I couldn’t square any of it with the warm way Yuri treated Raziel. Yuri was one of the biggest champions of the paranormal community. He’d been a driving force in attracting new talent to Donn’s Hill, and I knew from experience that he truly believed in the positive power psychics could bring to bear in tough situations. Why would he promote someone who seemed determined to put people like us out of business?

  “Has Raziel ever gone after your dad?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Not yet. But he will. I can feel it. And when he does, he’ll regret it.”

  We drank our coffee in silence for a few minutes, and I watched Kit for the telltale signs of caffeine kicking in. Soon enough, she sat a little straighter in her chair. She ran both hands through her hair, which made her look just normal enough that I thought it was fair to bring up Raziel’s manager.

  “Amari says hello, by the way.”

  Kit’s reaction was even better than I’d hoped. She coughed, spat coffee across her keyboard, and sputtered for several seconds. I grinned at her; she glared at me.

  “You meant to do that,” she accused, pointing at the droplets of Graham’s daily diesel fuel that dotted her monitor.

  “Couldn’t resist.” I got up and grabbed some paper towels from her kitchenette. “Why didn’t you tell me about her?”

  She shrugged, but a crimson tinge of embarrassment washed over her face as she cleaned up her mess. “We had a lot of other crap going on, remember? I didn’t think me going on a single date ranked as high as you smudging a spirit out of your apartment for the first time.”

  “It must’ve been one hell of a date.” I raised an eyebrow as I slid back into my seat. “The way Amari asked about you… seems like you left a pretty big impression.”

  Kit snorted. “Could’ve fooled me. She never called.”

  “Did you call her?”

  “Well… no. But she lives in L.A., and I’m out here. Plus, she’s Raziel’s toadie.” She snarled down at her coffee mug. “It wouldn’t have worked anyway.”

  I had to ask the question that burned at me most of all. “Did you know she was his manager when you went out with her?”

  “Nope. She didn’t tell me.”

  “How did you meet?”

  “Dating app. Dad wanted to go to dinner with the ScreamTV people, but we’d been at their office all freaking day already, and I’d had enough glad handling. I’d heard there was a cool arcade bar near the hotel, but didn’t want to check it out alone, so…” She shrugged again. “No big deal.”

  I smirked. “‘No big deal,’ huh? Yeah, that totally explains why you nearly threw up on your shoes the second you saw he
r.”

  Her blush deepened, but she said nothing.

  “I have a theory,” I told her. “Want to know what I think?”

  She stiffened and eyed me in silence.

  “I think you fell for her,” I said. “Hard. But she never called, and now you’re all sulky.”

  Kit crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah, right.”

  “Hmm. No incredulous snort? No eye roll?” I leaned in and jabbed her with a finger. “No denial.”

  She turned back to her computer. “I don’t have time for this. I’m on a deadline.”

  When Kit ended a conversation, you could hear the heavy vault door closing and a dozen locks slamming home. If my theory was true—which, in my mind, her reaction proved—then she was still stinging about what’d happened in L.A. I didn’t have the heart to keep teasing her about it, so I relaxed into my chair. “Okay. I’ll behave, for now. What are you working on?”

  “Well, you know how we usually start off the episode with footage introducing the place we’re investigating and the people who think it’s haunted?”

  I nodded. Kit and our cameraman, Mark, would typically gather what they called “B-roll” footage of the town or city and get shots of the family that lived in the house going about their daily business. Yuri would record a voiceover, delivering background information about the location’s history and the people that lived there. I never felt the episode truly began until Yuri actually appeared on screen, arriving at the location we’d be investigating.

  “This time, the people we need to introduce aren’t the ones who asked us to investigate the cabin since it was our idea to go back there.” Kit laughed, looking genuinely awake for the first time that day. “So instead, I’m putting together intro sequences for our guest psychics.”

  “Oh, cool. Did you and Mark shoot this video of Daphne?”