“Orbs, incoming!” Calista shouted as glowing bubbles materialized out of nowhere, hovering and zooming all around us. As pretty as they were, my intuition told me we were in for trouble.
Teag must have felt the shift as well, because I saw him reach for his iron knife, and take out a canister of salt from his bag. I caught glimpses out of the corner of my eye of women in long, old-fashioned dresses moving around the looms, thin-faced and pale. Their energy felt resigned, as if they had been unable to free themselves from their indenture to the mill in life, and had lost all hope of freedom after death.
But something nearby felt dark and angry, a spreading stain on the resonance. I turned slowly, obliging Drew’s request, and the limited glow of my flashlight caught a hint of motion to one side. I stared into the gloom, and saw the images again, the sudden crash of ceiling and roof coming down, a surge of panic, then pain and death. A repeater, but a strong one. I looked away as the old disaster replayed.
“Are you getting any of that?” Kell asked in a hushed voice to his team.
“Trying,” Drew confirmed. “But there’s a lot of interference.”
The EMF meter screeched, and the temperature in the room plummeted. I felt the resonance shift again, and Pete gasped as a voice on the audio feed spoke clearly above the white noise.
“Get out.”
“Holy shit,” Calista said, pivoting to hone in on the source of the voice.
I didn’t need to have skin-to-surface contact to know that a dark tide of ugly energy seeped into the room like overflowing psychic sewage. And it headed straight for Teag.
“Watch out!” I yelled, and Teag spun toward my voice at the same time that the shadows rushed at him. He hurled salt, and the darkness parted where the crystals landed, but the mass swept toward him, relentless.
I heard a metal screech, the yielding of age-old rust and disuse, and then a hum and clatter as the hulking looms around us came to life.
“This can’t be happening,” Pete yelped, crossing himself.
The darkness headed for Teag once more, enveloping him, and I knew it intended to hurl him into the moving guts of the massive looms, the tangle of metal parts that had chewed up and mangled so many workers.
I shook my left wrist, jangling the old dog collar, and Bo’s ghost barely had time to materialize before he leaped snarling into the roiling shadows. My athame fell into my hand, and I leveled it, but before I could send a blast of cold power to loosen the hold of the darkness, the boom of a shotgun deafened us.
Kell reloaded, firing another salt round off center, and I took aim on the other side, channeling my gift and the resonance of the athame into a bolt of white energy. The darkness withdrew like a wounded predator, releasing Teag, who fell to his knees far too close for comfort to the possessed loom.
“Come on!” I yelled as more and more of the old looms woke from their slumber, filling the huge room with the rumble and roar. I wondered how the workers had stood the noise, so loud it made my bones vibrate, and my ears ring. I realized the others couldn’t hear me, so I grabbed Teag’s wrist and yanked him to his feet, then started to drag him back the way we had come.
If we made the trip to validate ghostly activity, we had what we came for, and then some.
Kell shot into the malicious shadows once more, the report of his gun barely audible above the din of the looms.
I glanced over my shoulder to make sure that Kell and the rest of his team were with us, and saw them keeping up. Kell brought up the rear, ejecting the spent shells and loading as he ran. My head throbbed with the noise, and my ears buzzed. I burst through the double doors with Bo’s ghost at my side and Teag stumbling along a step behind me. The others tumbled out into the darkened hallway seconds later, and the doors clanged shut.
Abruptly, the looms fell silent.
“What…in the bloody hell…was that?” Calista panted.
“That would be ghosts, amped up by something or someone,” I replied.
Teag shook his head at my worried glance, assuring me that he hadn’t been hurt, although from how pale he’d gone and his wide eyes, I could see how scared he was.
“Come on,” Kell said, reloading his shotgun. “Let’s get out of here, before anything else happens.”
Bo stayed beside me until we got back to the parking lot, then he wagged and vanished. Pete stared at the space where the ghost had been.
“You have a ghost dog,” he said, as the rest of the team eyed me with suspicion and a little bit of fear.
“It’s a long story,” I said. “And one I’d rather not see on the evening news.”
“We’re not investigating Cassidy and Teag,” Kell told his team, warning clear in his voice. “They’re allies, not test subjects. So whatever you think you saw stays between us.”
“That white stream of light—what did you do?” Drew asked, sounding more curious than awed.
“I can read the history of objects by touching them,” I said matter-of-factly. “And if the resonance of the memories is strong enough, I can use it to defend myself. It’s redirecting energy.”
“That’s cool,” Pete said. “Weird and a little freaky, but cool.”
Teag and I had been on many ghost hunts with the SPOOK crew, and more than once we’d used our magic to save our collective asses from an other-worldly threat. But until now, our abilities managed to escape notice. I felt uncomfortable having more people know about us, and still, I trusted Kell and his group to keep our secrets.
“We won’t tell anyone,” Calista said. “Thanks for whatever scary-ass thing you did back there.”
I grinned. Coming from Calista, that was high praise. “You’re welcome,” I said. “Let’s go home.”
Chapter Ten
The day after our near-fatal encounter with the haunted looms at the Edwards mill was blissfully normal. Plenty of traffic at Trifles and Folly meant we had little time to dwell on our brush with danger, and the day passed smoothly enough for us to take a mental break from the ongoing weirdness and catch our breath. No new cursed objects, no rabidly angry customers.
So the knock at the door while I fixed dinner caught me by surprise. With the wardings, only a short list of trusted friends can come all the way up on the porch without being escorted, so that cut the number of possible callers down to a select few, none of whom I was expecting. My surprise heightened when I saw Anthony.
“May I come in?” he asked, looking like he felt very self-conscious turning up on my doorstep.
“Of course,” I answered, stepping to the side to let him in. “Is something wrong? Is Teag okay?”
Anthony walked inside, hung up his jacket, and dropped onto my couch. I saw the fine lines around his eyes from worry and sleeplessness. “Teag’s not hurt,” he said, leaning forward onto his thighs and clasping his hands in front of him. “He’s at his lesson with Mrs. Teller. But he’s not okay.”
“Bad dreams?” I hazarded a guess.
Anthony nodded. “At first, I figured it went with the kinds of things you see with what you do. I only know a fraction of it all, and what I’ve seen is enough to cause nightmares. But there’s something really wrong, and I don’t know what to do.”
I sat across from Anthony. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Anthony sat straight and leaned back against the couch, then closed his eyes. “The dreams changed about three weeks ago. Before that, I’d have said they were normal, considering. I mean, once in a while, Teag would have a nightmare, and when I’d wake him up, he’d tell me that it had to do with some creature you’d fought off. Except that in his dreams, everything went wrong, people got hurt, and the good guys didn’t win.”
I shrugged, knowing those kinds of dreams too well myself. “Yeah. I know what that’s like. Can’t say that those are ‘normal,’ but they’re regular nightmares.” Recurring, traumatic, and terrifying, but still nothing supernatural.
“The new dreams are coming more often, and it’s harder to wake him out of them,”
Anthony confided. “Like they don’t want to let go of him. When he’s dreaming, he’s really in the dream. His whole body thrashes, he kicks and fights—nearly gave me a black eye more than once—and he cries out.”
Anthony opened his eyes and met my gaze. “Something’s hurting him, Cassidy. I see welts appear on his body after a dream that weren’t there when we went to bed the night before. I’ve heard him scream, and seen bruises form, with no one touching him. No one that I could see.”
“What else does he say about the dreams, when he wakes up?” I asked.
“He says he doesn’t remember them,” Anthony replied. “At least, not much. What he’s told me is spotty, but I believe him. I can’t figure out how he could be so scared and involved in the dream and supposedly have almost no memory of it minutes later.”
I got up and made us both a cup of tea. Baxter begged to be picked up, and Anthony lifted him onto the couch, where Bax settled up beside him like a good little therapy dog. Anthony took the tea gratefully, and I sat down again facing him.
“And you think it’s more than PTSD?”
Anthony nodded. “I mean, I’m not a psychologist. I’ve heard about night terrors, and from what I’ve read online, those can feel real and be horrific. But something about these new dreams raises the hair on the back of my neck. There’s a wrongness to them I can’t explain.”
“Then trust your instincts,” I replied. Teag and I both think Anthony has a bit of clairvoyance, although he’d never admit it. “If your gut thinks there’s something wrong, you’re probably right.” I frowned. “Sorren strengthened the wardings recently on your house. I can make sure Rowan stops by to juice up the protections on your bedroom. Did you bring any new objects home that might have carried a curse or a hex?”
Anthony gave me a look. “If you mean, did we suddenly redecorate with ancient relics from pilfered tombs, the answer is no.”
I returned the side eye. “You know that’s not what I mean. But this sounds personal, like someone has it in for Teag. So that could be a small item he might not have even noticed, tucked into a pocket or slipped into a bag.”
“Like a reverse pickpocket? Planting something instead of stealing your wallet?”
“Exactly. It could be a charm, a hex bag, something that looks like a bit of twigs and twine,” I said. “Have you let anyone inside the warded area recently, someone who isn’t usually around, like a repairman or a new lawn worker?”
Anthony thought for a moment. “We had a plumber come to take care of a problem with the upstairs bathroom,” he mused. “I was home at the time, but I didn’t follow him around and watch his every move.”
“Someone you’d used before?”
He shook his head. “No. We use a service company, and they send whoever’s on duty. He had the right uniform and ID. I always check.”
“That’s where I’d start,” I said, and paused to sip my tea. “Go through all your pockets—even the stuff in the back of your closet. Look in corners, in the far end of drawers, and if there are access panels in that bathroom, check inside. And if you’re really worried, I know Rowan would be willing to do a sweep and see what her magic picks up.” I shrugged.
Anthony nodded, and I could see how much concern for Teag wore on him. Anthony’s a good looking guy, and while some of that comes from pretty eyes and killer cheekbones, he usually exudes confidence, and that’s damn attractive, especially when it’s not cocky or arrogant. Now Anthony had dark circles under his eyes, and he seemed off his game.
“It’s really hard to see him suffer and not be able to do anything,” Anthony said in a raw voice just above a whisper. “I know what he does, what all of you do, is important. I get that you’ve saved Charleston—hell, the world—a few times.” He ran a hand back through his thick, blond hair. “This is the part they leave out of superhero movies,” Anthony said with a wan smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “What it’s like for the lover, dealing with the PTSD.”
“As I recall, superheroes are pretty lousy with relationships.” I reached out to lay a hand on his arm. “So this is one case where real life needs to beat the movies.”
Anthony swallowed hard and nodded. “I’m in it for the long haul, Cassidy. He knows that. I love him. And I’m so proud of what he can do, even though I don’t understand all of it. But it’s hard seeing something hurt him, and I can’t help.” He spread his hands in frustration.
“If this were some kind of blackmailer or stalker or hitman, I’ve got resources. I know how to use the law as a weapon, and I’ve got connections with law enforcement. I could protect him. If things got bad enough, there are ways to disappear.”
Anthony had to be plenty spooked to be talking like this. I could see the desperation in his eyes, and in the way his hands shook. Not being able to protect Teag wasn’t just scaring Anthony; it had him questioning whether he could do right by the man he loved.
“I think you’re getting ahead of the problem,” I said gently, giving him my most reassuring smile. “No one needs to disappear. Sorren and Donnelly are working on an angle of their own. Mrs. Teller and Lucinda and Father Anne are all tapping into their contacts. We’re going to figure out what’s behind all this, and we’ll figure out a way to protect you and Teag.”
Anthony nodded, and I hoped he believed me. I felt like a shitty best friend, not noticing how much the lack of sleep wore on Teag, or figuring the signs I saw were due to the usual worry that went with our work. “What do I do, now, besides not letting anyone else into the house?”
I nodded. “That’s a start. We’ll figure this out,” I promised. “How about if I come over and help you search?”
“Good,” he said, still sounding worried and distracted. “Thanks. I’m out of my element, you know? Every time I think I’ve got my mind wrapped around this magic stuff, there’s something new, and it throws me.”
“Believe me, I understand,” I assured him, since even though I was part of ‘this magic stuff,’ there always seemed to be something new and even more terrifying right around the corner.
He stood and walked his teacup back to the kitchen, then turned and gave me a big hug. I threw my arms around his waist and squeezed back. “We’ll protect him, Anthony. And you, too.”
I followed Anthony back to the house he and Teag shared. I sensed the buzz of wardings at the edge of the property, so those protections were still active. When we walked into the foyer, I paused and closed my eyes.
“Everything okay?” Anthony asked.
“Trying to see if I can feel anything amiss,” I told him. I picked up traces of Rowan’s magic upstairs and figured those were her spells around the bedroom. I wondered what kind of protections Rowan had used, and how the malicious magic got through her wardings.
I opened my eyes and followed Anthony through the house, moving room to room, first downstairs, and then up the steps to the second floor. I frowned as I walked into the master bathroom.
“Something isn’t right here,” I murmured to myself, keying in on a jagged energy almost too subtle to notice.
“Can you tell where it’s coming from?” Anthony asked, staying in the doorway.
“Not yet,” I replied. I closed my eyes again and let myself focus on my gift. Like a magical game of Marco Polo, I moved first in one direction than another, waiting to feel when the unsettled energy grew stronger.
Now that I sensed the bad mojo, I felt it strengthen as I moved back toward the doorway that led to the bedroom. I held out one hand in front of me like a dowsing rod and stopped when I bumped into the wall.
When I opened my eyes, my palm was against a small, framed picture of a sailboat on the ocean. I recoiled, as the sinister magic seemed to reach for me.
“Cassidy? Did you find something?”
“Can you get me some tongs? I don’t want to touch the picture.”
Anthony hurried down to the kitchen and returned with a pair of metal cooking tongs. I found a pair of rubber cleaning gloves in the bottom of th
e linen cabinet and put on a glove to further insulate me from the harmful energy, then gingerly lifted the picture with the tongs and set it in the sink, with the back of the photograph exposed.
“There,” I said, pointing to a tangle of what looked like twigs, dry leaves, and hair. “It’s a hex, and I bet it has something to do with Teag’s bad dreams. I need a lead box, and salt. Lots of salt.”
“Hang on,” Anthony said and ran from the room. I could hear doors opening and then the rustle of paper, and in a few minutes, he returned with an empty portable safe and a canister of salt. “Here,” he said. “Will this do?”
“I think it’ll be perfect,” I said. Even with the buffer of the tongs and the rubber glove, I winced at the roiling malice given off by the hex charm. I felt like I had a poisonous snake in my grip, trying to evade its sharp fangs. It took only seconds for me to rip the hex free of the back of the photo, drop it into the safe, and douse it with salt, but I knew I would need a shower and a sage smudging to strip away the psychic filth I felt from the contact.
Anthony slammed the safe door shut and spun the lock, and the lead box smothered the malignant energy. He looked up, worried and hopeful. “Do you think that will stop the dreams?” he asked.
I made a sweep of their bedroom and found nothing else. Then again, I didn’t expect to, since Rowan had warded the space. “I think it will help,” I said cautiously. “Rowan’s wardings had a weak point at the bathroom door, and whoever planted the hex knew it. Whoever did this has power. Some of what Teag’s picking up on might be that malicious energy, and that’s harder to ward against because his own abilities are feeding him the images. But with the hex gone, it should reduce the strength of the dreams.”
“What about this?” Anthony asked, looking down at the safe.
“Let’s put it in my trunk, and I’ll get Sorren to take care of it, after Rowan and Lucinda have a look at the charm. Maybe they can make out something about the witch that made it, to help us find out who’s behind all this.”
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