by Sonia Singh
The lights in the foyer kept flashing on and off. Coulter felt as if he were in one of those clubs with a strobe light.
He stared at the flashing bulbs, focusing. He could feel the energy swelling inside him, pulsing at the same beat as the flashing lights. He imagined reaching out and grabbing the bulb, holding it in his palm, willing the flickering to slow down and stop.
The flashing stopped. The lights stayed on.
Hot damn!
Then he noticed his breath fogging up. The room had grown cold. The chandelier above his head began swinging. He focused on it, and this time felt a strong counter-energy pull fighting him. The chandelier began to sway and pitch dangerously. He concentrated, reaching out from his center. The swinging stopped.
Anjali’s hands dropped to her side, and she slowly stood up. “The buzzing…it isn’t gone, but it’s softer.”
“I did that,” Coulter said. “Ya’ll can thank me.”
“Poltergeist meet the Coultergeist,” Anjali said.
Scott looked at him, amazed. “Tell me, did it feel like you were absorbing the energy from the poltergeist or deflecting it—”
“I felt like I was holding or restraining it. I think I made it mad. The chandelier was much harder to control.”
“Ah, guys?” Anjali stood there, hands on her hips. “What’s the plan?”
“Try to make contact now,” Scott suggested.
She closed her eyes. “It wants us to leave.”
“I gathered that,” Scott said. “What else?”
“I don’t know. It’s hard to isolate any feelings or emotions. It’s like this thing isn’t human anymore but distorted.”
A crackle of electricity suddenly surged, and the floral arrangement on the front desk exploded in a burst of petals.
Anjali opened her eyes. “I can’t get through. How am I supposed to show this thing the light when I can’t even communicate with it?”
The paintings on the walls flew off and fell to the floor.
“Forget showing this thing the light,” Coulter said. “Shove it through the goddamn opening.”
Scott didn’t look convinced. “But we need to learn more, study this. If I could observe more of its interactions with—”
“Scott!” Anjali had a pained expression on her face.
“Okay.” He rubbed his forehead. “This thing was human once. Let’s destroy the bones.”
Coulter cracked his knuckles. “Got any lighter fluid?”
“But…but…” Anjali looked torn. “Shouldn’t we have some sort of service or something?”
“We are—a cremation,” Scott said. “Fire is a purifying element. Let’s go.”
Pushing his wet hair off his face, Coulter glared down at his muddy snakeskin boots. Here he was standing in a muddy pit in the rain, pouring lighter fluid over a pile of brittle bones, when just a few miles away people were drinking wine, eating filet mignon, and laughing over how fortunate they were.
Napa Valley my ass, he thought.
Even the sight of Anjali holding a flashlight, wet T-shirt plastered to her body, couldn’t arouse his interest…much.
“Don’t you need to pour salt over the bones or something?” Anjali asked. “They always do that in the movies.”
Scott brushed the water from his eyes. “I’m all about the low-sodium diet. Besides, that’s an old wives’ tale.”
Anjali smiled back at him. “Superstition has no place in the paranormal world.”
Now they were both smiling at each other.
Coulter rolled his eyes. “Can you two stop flirting so we can get on with this? I’ve got denim up my ass crack.”
Scott pulled out a pocket torch from his bag. “Windproof and rainproof.” He looked at Coulter. “All I need is for you to keep the poltergeist at bay while I try to get a fire going.” He crouched down in front of the bones with the lighter.
“It’s here,” Anjali said, just as what felt like electrical pinpricks began piercing Coulter’s skin.
“Look at this,” Scott whispered as the bones began an eerie, quivery stirring.
Anjali shivered, the light from the flashlight wavering. “Please hurry.”
Coulter concentrated on the electrical force surrounding them and tried to restrain it as before. “I don’t know how long I can keep this thing away, boss.”
The lighter flared and Scott touched it to the fuel-soaked bones. The fire sputtered lazily to life but held.
Anjali held up her hand. “Listen.”
A deep moan rose up from the burning bones and ascended like a gust of wind. The mournful call spread out through the soaked hills and was gone.
Then it was just three people standing in a dark, muddy pit.
I don’t get paid enough for this, Coulter thought.
26
“Anjali, it’s Zarina. Can you buzz me up?”
Anjali groaned. It was almost seven and Coulter would be over any minute. They were going to see a movie. What the hell was her sister doing there?
“Anjali?”
“Sorry,” she said and hit the buzzer.
Kali, who’d been sleeping peacefully on the sofa, raised her head. “Run and hide,” Anjali warned. “She’s coming.”
She opened the door and leaned down to fiddle with her sandal strap. It was a casual get-together, not a date. But Anjali couldn’t remember the last time she’d had an attractive—make that beautiful—man over. Not that she liked him only because of his looks. She wasn’t that shallow. But a beautiful—make that exquisite—exterior certainly didn’t hurt. Besides, what was she supposed to do? Judge people by their auras? She suspected biology was to blame. She felt a deep, primordial thrill whenever she was around Coulter, as if her ovaries sensed his superior genetic material.
Zarina walked in and perched gingerly on the edge of the sofa, her petite frame barely making a dent in the cushion. She and Kali eyed each other with dislike. “Do you know what pet dander can do to the air you breathe?”
“I like it,” Anjali said. “Adds texture.”
Zarina gave her the once-over. “You’re wearing too much makeup.”
“I am?” She walked into her bedroom and studied her appearance in the wall mirror. She’d tried for the natural look. Then again, it took a lot of makeup to achieve the natural look. She squinted and pursed her lips. Nah, she looked good.
She took a seat next to Kali and said in a bright false voice, “What brings you to San Jose?”
“I spoke at an all-day conference in Redwood Creek. By the way—” Zarina pulled out a business card from her suit pocket. “I met a representative from Hunter Pharmaceuticals. Their programming department is hiring.” She set the card on the coffee table. “I set up an interview.”
Ever since their dinner at the Sunset Grill, Zarina had been calling nearly every day about interviews and potential job offers. Happily, Anjali hadn’t been home to take most of the calls and her cell phone was permanently on voice mail. “I appreciate the effort but—”
“What’s going on with you?” Zarina asked. “Are you depressed?” She pulled out her BlackBerry. “I have a colleague who can prescribe something. Normally I frown on medication but…”
“I’m not depressed. Not now anyway. I’m just figuring things out.”
“The whole family is worried about you.”
Anjali could feel her irritation growing. Well, two could play that game. “You know…I spoke to Mom yesterday. She’s not fixated on my single status these days. What she wants is a grandchild. That’s your department.” She expected a sharp retort from her sister and was surprised at the flush that bloomed in her cheeks.
“Vijay and I have been trying,” Zarina mumbled. “Well…we were trying, but he’s always tired and…”
“Umm.” Anjali cleared her throat. “If you want to, ah, talk about it…”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Zarina said tightly. “Not about me. If you don’t want a job, fine. I don’t know what you’re doing with y
our life, but I’m tired of trying to help. You’re on your own.”
Anjali could feel her own cheeks getting warm but from anger, not embarrassment. “You’re tired of trying to help? Since when is perpetual disapproval helping? Getting that from Mom is one thing. But from my sister? And guess what? I have a job. I’m the resident psychic for a ghost-hunting firm! Well one of two, actually.”
Zarina stood. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Have you told Mom and Dad? You’re going to give them each a heart attack!”
“I think they’re stronger than that. Besides, if anything I did up until now didn’t kill them…”
“Why can’t you pretend you’re like everyone else?” Zarina argued. “What’s the big deal about this psychic thing anyway?”
Anjali stood as well. “Pretending I’m someone else hasn’t worked so well for me—in case you haven’t noticed. And you’re the one making a big deal about all this—you, Mom and Dad. I have a job I’m growing to like. Coworkers I definitely like. And I’m making a difference. I don’t spend nights crying into my pillow or mornings contemplating pouring vodka into my cereal.”
Zarina glared at her. “Mom and Dad moved to this country to give us a better life. So we could be successful. What are you doing?”
“No, they moved here to give us opportunities, and opportunity means having a choice. The choice to live our lives any way we want.”
The doorbell rang.
Zarina picked up her purse. “I should go.”
Anjali went to the door and opened it. “Hey Angel,” Coulter said and strode in, looking like Apollo in tight jeans and a white T-shirt.
“Hey—” Anjali began and heard a thump.
Zarina stood there, purse fallen to the floor, lips parted, absolutely mesmerized.
“Ah…” Anjali looked at her sister and then at Coulter, who obviously didn’t think there was anything odd about the woman in a near-Zombie trance staring at him. He was probably used to just such a reaction. Anjali could more than understand.
But not from her sister.
Zarina had never been gaga over anything or anyone. She planned her life with the ruthless efficiency of the Chinese government. She’d chosen her husband by charting out his potential wage earnings and life expectancy. She’d never once cried over a movie or oohed over a puppy.
Anjali came to a conclusion: The more repressed they are, the harder they fall.
Since they couldn’t stand around and stare at one another, Anjali decided to make introductions. “Coulter, this is my sister, Zarina.”
He smiled lazily. “Well isn’t your daddy lucky to have such a fine pair of daughters.”
“Thank you,” Zarina said shyly.
Kali jumped off the sofa and began rubbing back and forth against Coulter’s legs. When he picked her up and began scratching under her chin, she closed her eyes in ecstatic bliss.
Anjali could swear Kali had shot her sister a triumphant glance just before shutting her eyes.
“I was thinkin’,” Coulter began and put Kali down. Before he could straighten, she jumped back in his arms.
Zarina frowned. “Your cat has no manners.”
Coulter laughed and resumed holding the cat. “As I was sayin’, how ’bout a change in plans? Drinks and food instead. You wouldn’t believe the birdseed Wilder keeps in the fridge.”
Zarina giggled.
Coulter smiled at her. “You’ll be joinin’ us, right?”
“I’d like that.”
“What about Vijay?” Anjali reminded her. What about the argument we just had?
Zarina turned a distracted smile to her. “Hmm?”
The three of them ended up taking Anjali’s car.
27
“Why’d you turn off Slayer?” Coulter demanded. They were driving along an isolated mountain road; majestic pine trees filled the valley below.
“Because I can’t think with all that screaming in my ear,” Scott replied from behind the wheel. They’d started the drive to the California/Nevada border three hours ago and should have reached the location. “Okay I’m lost.” He stopped the car and they all piled out.
Scott spread the map on the hood of the Range Rover while Anjali and Coulter stretched their legs. “I specifically requested an updated DVD for my GPS. I can’t find the damn turnoff anywhere and neither can the navigation system.”
An icy wind blew over the tops of the trees. The quiet was complete; not even birds twittered in the trees. Civilization seemed far behind. “Do you sense anything?” Coulter asked Anjali.
She gazed around at the isolated point and shivered. “Yeah, the Donner party and they’re hungry.”
Scott thumped his finger on the map twice. “We’re going the right way. The turnoff to the house should be just ahead.”
They all piled back in.
The farmhouse was barely standing.
Ragged weeds covered the ground. The wooden planks covering the porch were rotten in some places, worn everywhere else.
“This is a dump,” Coulter said as they drove up.
“The place doesn’t matter. Rhett Uglee is still a client,” Scott said.
He parked the car, and they headed up the dusty, weedy drive. The front door, barely on its hinges, opened and a thin, anemic-looking man with skinny arms, light brown hair in a mullet cut, sideburns, and a droopy mustache came out. He was wearing a sleeveless flannel shirt and a baseball cap turned backward.
Scott held out his hand with a smile. “Rhett?”
Rhett shook hands and gazed curiously at Anjali and Coulter while lighting up a cigarette. “So you wanna talk out here or inside?”
“How about inside?” Scott said. “Anjali can get a feel of the place.”
“Angela?”
“Anjali,” she said.
“That’s what I said. Angela.”
“Why don’t we go in?” Scott said, and Rhett led the way.
The inside wasn’t much better than the outside. Cracked and splintered floorboards, chipped and peeling wallpaper, and beat-up furniture.
“Uglees have lived in the Manor for generations,” Rhett said.
Coulter laughed. “Manor?”
“Fill us in, Rhett,” Scott said. “On the phone you said you believed the presence was female?”
They all sat down. The chair Coulter sat on buckled and cracked under him.
Rhett’s cigarette smoke swirled around the room, and Anjali sneezed.
Rhett settled back and scratched his stomach. “There’s a female ghost in my house, and she’s been molesting me.”
Scott reached over and switched on the video camera.
“I can’t bring none of my lady friends home,” he complained. “She don’t like that. She gets angry and starts messin’ with my TV channels.”
Anjali bit down on her lip to keep from laughing.
Coulter had a very skeptical look on his face.
Scott kept his tone professional. “Has the presence threatened you at all?”
Rhett shook his head and took another drag. “No, but sometimes she startles me—I scream when that happens. Doors keep poppin’ open all the time and such.”
“Why don’t we take a look around?” Scott said.
Rhett turned to Anjali. “She won’t like you bein’ here, Angela. She’ll think you’re one of my lady friends.”
Anjali widened her eyes at Scott, who quickly stood up. “How about that tour?”
Rhett shrugged and took them through the house. In the bedroom, he pointed to the lumpy twin bed. “Sometimes she crawls in there with me.”
Coulter leaned close and whispered in Anjali’s ear, “You reckon there’s ever been a woman within ten feet of this room?”
Anjali smiled, and Scott looked over at them for a long moment before addressing Rhett. “Where else have you experienced strange phenomena?”
They followed Rhett down to the cellar. Old shelves were filled with rows and rows of glass bottles. Dim lighting illuminated cobwebs and the du
sty floor. Rhett pointed to one of the shelves. “Once, I was walkin’ here…and a head popped out between the bottles and starts starin’ at me.”
“Holy shit, no wonder you’re seeing things!” Coulter was holding one of the bottles and sniffing it. “Moonshine.”
He held the bottle out to Scott, who sniffed it and yanked himself back. “Damn that’s strong.”
“I’m tellin’ ya’ll she’s here,” Rhett said. “I’ve tried to make her leave. I tells her, ‘You’re deceased and I’m not so you best leave me be.’ But she don’t listen.”
They walked back to the main room. Scott took Rhett aside. “I’m going to talk to my associates. We’ll decide how to pursue this case.”
“I’ll be here.” He lit up another cigarette and plopped down on the sofa.
Scott, Anjali, and Coulter met outside.
“There’s nothing in there,” Coulter said. “Are you going to pursue every claim made by a moonshine-swigging nut job?”
“I didn’t pick up anything, Scott,” Anjali said. “Maybe he’s just hearing things. Those floorboards creaked more than my grandmother’s knees.”
“Now that we’re here, I want to give him the benefit of the doubt,” Scott said. “We have to be as thorough as possible. According to the local sheriff, one of his female deputies did sense a threatening presence while investigating a theft on the property.”
“Theft?” Coulter said. “What would anybody steal from here?”
“Are ya’ll going to communicate with the spirit or what?” Rhett called out from the doorway.
Scott looked at Anjali and Coulter. He nodded to Rhett. “We’ll be there.”
Rhett hovered near the doorway. “I was thinkin’ we should make the spirit jealous so she’d come out. Maybe Angela here and I can sit together and she can pretend to be my lady friend.”
“I don’t think—” Anjali began.
“Actually,” Scott said, “that might be a good idea.”
She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him aside. “I’m not cozying up to Rhett.”
“All you have to do is sit on the sofa with him and talk.”
Anjali frowned. “Fine, but this goes above and beyond the call of a medium.”