by Ann Charles
“Prudence! You have to stop!” I rolled to the side, taking Zelda’s tiny body with me, struggling to break free, but Prudence had a death lock on my neck.
“You will do as I say!” she hissed in my ear, squeezing my windpipe with far more strength than Zelda could have. “Or we will all die!”
I wiggled one hand between her arm and my neck, gouging my own skin with my nails, frantic for some breathing room. “For fucksake, you are already dead!” I wheezed and snorted, trying to break her chokehold on me.
“PRUDENCE!” Doc bellowed. His deep, gravelly voice raised the hairs on the back of my neck.
Suddenly, Zelda’s arms went limp.
I slipped free and scuttled on all fours over to the door, leaning back against it, trying to catch my breath.
Zelda rolled onto her back, blinking up at the ceiling. “What happened?” she asked in her usual voice. “Why am I on the floor? Did I fall?”
Shittle-me-diddle! Zelda had no memory of what had just happened. How was I going to explain this without freaking her out? Or making her feel guilty for something she had no control over?
I looked around the empty foyer. Where was Doc? I could have sworn he was standing over us when he yelled Prudence’s name.
Zelda turned her head my way. “Violet, are you okay?” She tried to sit up, but then groaned and fell flat again.
“I’m fine. I’m great.” Although my voice came out raspy and my neck felt like I’d been clotheslined by a steel pipe.
“What happened?”
I struggled to my feet, trying to come up with a lie on the fly, something at which Natalie had always been far better than me. “I was heading out to my car for my cell phone and you came along to help me but we sort of got tangled together and tripped.”
There, that should do for now.
Leaning over her, I offered my hand, pulling her upright slowly, gently. “Are you okay?”
I held onto her, afraid her legs might give out. Prudence had forced Zelda to use superhuman strength. That had to leave a lasting strain on her muscles, didn’t it?
“I think so.” She looked around, chuckling warily. “My legs feel a little shaky. Maybe I should sit down for a minute.”
“Good idea. Let me help you.”
I led her out of the foyer, only to pause in the living room at the sight of Doc sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands. He’d been sitting just like that in the jail cell the night before. My heart picked up speed. Surely the banshee hadn’t come back.
After guiding Zelda into the burgundy chair, I moved over to Doc. I had a history in this house of being hurt every time I touched someone, so I reached out hesitantly.
He looked at me before I made contact. His face was pale, his breath coming fast. Sweat trickled from his temples.
Something was wrong. Either he was allergic to apple dumplings with caramel sauce, or something had happened to him while I was wrestling with Prudence in the foyer.
“Are you all right?” I sat down next to him, risking a touch to his shoulder. His shirt was damp under my fingers.
“Yes.” But his hand trembled as he wiped the sweat from his brow. He frowned down at his palms, then flexed his fingers a few times before letting his hands dangle between his knees. He focused on me, his gaze searching my face and then lower. “Your neck …” he started, then his expression hardened. “She went too far.”
I snuck a peek over at Zelda, who was leaning back in the chair with her eyes closed. Her chest moved up and down in slow, smooth intervals. She was either sleeping or in some sort of deep meditation by the looks of it.
“Where’s Prudence?” I whispered to Doc.
He pointed upward. “She’s taking a break in the attic.”
I glanced up and then back at Doc. There was something different about him. Maybe it was his eyes, which were dark, cold, and flinty. I leaned closer. Or maybe it was something lying in wait behind them. Something threatening. Ominous.
“How do you know she’s in the attic?”
“Because I put her there.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“How exactly did you put Prudence in the attic?” Aunt Zoe asked Doc later that evening as the three of us finished cleaning up after a late supper.
The house was mostly quiet tonight. Addy and Layne were in the basement playing fetch with Elvis after giving her a bath. Miracle upon miracle, hanging out with that chicken was one of the few things they could do without fighting these days. With the stereo blasting out the Beach Boys down in the basement, Doc and I could finally talk openly with Aunt Zoe about our day’s events.
At the moment, the foyer fracas that had occurred at Zelda’s house held center stage.
“Is ghost relocation something you’ve done before?” Aunt Zoe asked, pouring two cups of tea.
“Not blatantly.” Doc dried his hands with a dish towel. “This was a matter of channeling focused energy in the right direction.”
He made it sound like it was a matter of guiding a firehose, but I doubted it was as straightforward as that.
“I’m still amazed how you got her out of there so fast.” I smiled up at my aunt as she placed a cup of tea on the table in front of me. “One minute, Prudence—well, Zelda—had me in a chokehold, and the next minute Zelda’s arms went lax and I could breathe again.” I snapped my fingers. “Just like that.”
“I’ll give you the short version of the story.” Doc draped the towel over the faucet to dry. “After Violet stormed out of the living room—”
“I didn’t ‘storm.’ ”
One dark eyebrow tipped upward. “Raged?”
I was pretty pissed at the time, but … “Maybe blustered.”
“After Violet ‘blustered’ toward the foyer, Zelda jolted to her feet and chased after her. But her movements were clearly stilted. I knew right out of the gate that Prudence was at the helm and she was furious. I could feel the turbulent energy roiling from her. Given her history of lashing out, I also knew I had to stop her somehow without hurting Zelda. But Prudence is a force of nature—even as a ghost.” His lips quirked at the corners. “She definitely ‘storms.’ ”
“Tell me about it.” I gingerly touched my neck, wincing.
Earlier this afternoon, as soon as I’d made it safely home, I’d hidden the telltale strangulation bruises as well as my bloody, self-inflicted fingernail scratches with a scarf so the kids wouldn’t ask questions. I didn’t like to lie to them, even though some things were for their own good. When Aunt Zoe had come in from her workshop, she’d taken one look at me, walked straight over, and gently pulled the scarf away. After several very unladylike curses that would have twisted Prudence’s panties in a wad again, Aunt Zoe had given me a kiss on the forehead and promised to brew some lemon-ginger tea to make my throat feel better.
And the tea had. I took a sip of my third cup of the healing elixir, letting the warm liquid soothe the back of my throat before swallowing. I worried for Zelda. She could probably use someone like my aunt to nurse her after being handled so roughly by not just one, but two Executioners.
Doc leaned against the counter, his gaze fixed on my neck. “I knew I had to deal with Prudence from a mental standpoint,” he resumed his tale. “So, I closed my eyes, shut out the screaming match going on in the foyer, and searched the ether—for lack of a better word—looking for Prudence’s energy. With emotions flying high, it was easy to find. Mushroom clouds on the horizon are less conspicuous.”
I grimaced. “I should have kept my mouth shut and just walked away.”
“That would have been one solution,” Doc said. “But it was probably time for Prudence to realize she’s here to help, not dictate and direct.”
“What did you do after finding her in the ether?” Aunt Zoe pressed.
He shrugged. “I yelled her name, trying to distract her from punishing Violet and to break her concentration. It worked, giving me an edge.”
Interesting that I, too, had heard his yell as if he
were standing over me. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I figured that somehow through contact with Prudence via Zelda (or possibly due to teetering on the edge of slipping away into candleflame land myself), I was able to tune into Doc’s broadcast.
“Then I tethered to her,” Doc continued, “as we had before, and envisioned the attic where she’d assaulted me last fall, taking her there with me.”
“Please tell me Prudence was kicking and screaming the whole way.” I really wanted her to suffer some sort of retribution.
“It happened so fast, I think she was shocked that I had that power. So was I, to be honest. As I said before, she’s very strong.”
“But she was attacking Violet,” Aunt Zoe said, nodding. “And you, Oracle, are her protector.”
“To the death,” he said solemnly. His gaze held mine. There was definitely some serious smoldering going on in those dark brown eyes.
My heart fanned itself, looking around for a fainting couch.
Aunt Zoe stirred her tea. “Then what?”
“After I had Prudence in the attic, clear of Zelda and Violet, I told her she needed to rethink her methods of persuasion. That going forward, violence toward one of her colleagues was unacceptable; and if she didn’t change her ways, I was going to lock her in that terror-chamber in Cornelius’s head until she could promise to play nice.” He gave me a wry grin. “I also let her know that Violet was clearly resistant to her leadership style, so Prudence needed to learn to work with her instead of being such a pain in the ass.”
I laughed and clapped.
“How did she take your reprimand?” Aunt Zoe asked.
“She tried to shove an antique trunk across the floor, but she didn’t have the strength left, so she threw an old shoe at the wall instead.” He crossed his arms. “I suspect she’s always been a bit of a maverick.”
Aunt Zoe gave me a meaningful look. “That’s a strong trait in most Executioners, no matter where they hail from.”
“I left Prudence then so I could check on Violet and Zelda.” His eyes locked onto me. “And that’s where you come back into the story.”
Which explained why he’d been so pale and sweaty when we returned to the living room. “Thankfully, all Zelda remembers is eating her apple dumpling dessert and then waking up on the floor in the foyer.”
Doc shook his head. “She was lucky you had sense enough not to hit back while Prudence was using her. That whole scene would have taken a much darker turn, otherwise.”
I sighed, rubbing my temples. “It’s partly my fault. I let Prudence push my buttons, even though I knew better. I should have walked away sooner.” And taken my caramel-covered apple dumpling with me, darn it.
After all that had happened, Doc had wanted to get the hell out of there ASAP. We’d made sure Zelda was okay and then let ourselves out before Prudence decided to try to come back for more. In my haste to leave, I missed out on dessert, which was a truly heinous crime.
“I don’t know,” Doc said. “This has been building for some time now. You and Prudence needed to come to an understanding. If you two can ever figure out how to work as a team, you would be twice as deadly.”
“I don’t think Prudence is the team player type.”
“She might have been trained to be a solo killer. Most Executioners are.” Aunt Zoe tapped her fingers on the table. “Or she could just prefer to work alone. But being dead has put a crimp in her style, so now she’s having to readjust her way of thinking. Change is never easy, apparently not even for a ghost.”
“How was she moving things around without using Zelda?” I asked Doc.
“Was it psychokinesis?” Aunt Zoe lifted her cup of tea. “Or would it be considered a poltergeist situation since she’s a ghost?”
“Explain the difference, please.” I reached for the cookie jar, telling my aunt off to the side, “You really need to quit baking so many cookies, or my curves will be cloning themselves soon.”
“Don’t bad-talk your curves, Boots.” Doc’s smolder was back.
“I’m just keeping you at your fighting weight, kiddo.” Aunt Zoe set down her cup and pointed at the cookie jar. “You’ll like these. They’re lemon chiffon. They’ll go well with your tea.”
Sweet lemony heaven! I deserved at least two cookies after missing out on the apple dumpling deliciousness.
“You’re both conspiring against me.” I pulled out a handful of cookies. Aiming a narrowed gaze at Doc, I set one aside for later in case a certain Tall Medium felt like tussling for it in the sheets.
Doc eyed the lone cookie and grinned. “Challenge accepted.”
“Back to Prudence’s new ability,” I prompted and closed up the cookie jar.
“Psychokinesis is the ability to move a physical object with your mind,” Doc explained. “It’s also called telekinesis by some. Or TK.”
Ah, yes—TK. Moving things without touching them. Saw it in the movies plenty of times. Understood the concept.
“Typically, with TK, the one doing the moving is still alive.” Doc paused, staring toward the dining room for a moment with a wrinkled brow. Then he shook whatever was bothering him off. “Poltergeists are when a ghost is believed to be causing an object to move. Although many theorize now that the poltergeist phenomena is actually caused by strong emotions emanating from a living person, especially one with a high influx of hormones like a teenager. But there’s no proof either way.” He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing toward the dining room again. “In this instance, I would say it’s psychokinesis or TK, even though Prudence is dead. She’s not your average ghost.”
“No, she’s definitely not.” I took a bite of cookie. The light lemony goodness harmonized with the tea perfectly.
Knocking on the front door turned us all to stone. The steady, heavy-fisted boom boom boom almost gave me chills.
I looked at the clock. It was almost nine—late for visitors.
“I think the Grim Reaper is at the door,” I whispered.
“Maybe Cooper,” Aunt Zoe suggested.
“Same difference.” I crammed the rest of the cookie in my mouth. If I’d learned anything today, it was that I needed to eat dessert first, because there was no telling when a pushy dead bitch could knock it out of my hand.
“Yeah, but Cooper doesn’t usually knock these days,” Doc said, taking a step toward the dining room.
Aunt Zoe’s gaze squeezed into a hard squint. “It better not be Reid, Violet Lynn.”
I held up my hands. “I’m innocent.”
At least I was tonight.
“I’ll go see.” Doc grabbed the meat cleaver from the knife block. “Something’s out there and it’s not human. At the risk of sounding like a low-budget sci-fi movie, I sense something … dangerous, but intriguing.”
I rose with him, my fingers now tingling. “I think I need to go with you.”
Aunt Zoe stood as well. She rubbed her arms. “I feel it, too.” She strode to the back door, locking it.
The tingling spread over my palms and up to my wrist. “Watch the kids,” I told her and followed after Doc.
He waited for me by the front door. “I tried to look out the window. It’s too dark out there to see anyone.”
“What about the porch light?”
“It’s not working at the moment.”
“Shit.” I grabbed the baseball bat from the hall closet. Aunt Zoe kept it there just in case Reid showed up and she couldn’t find her shotgun. “I wish I had an ax,” I told Doc when I rejoined him. “If there’s a Nachzehrer waiting on the other side of this door …”
“You get the first swing,” Doc finished. “Ready, Killer?”
I gripped the bat and nodded as the knocking sounded again. Boom. Boom. Bo—
Doc opened the door.
A tall, pale-faced juggernaut with a shock of white hair stood in the shadows, his fist frozen in mid-knock.
“Good evening, Scharfrichter,” Mr. Black said, lowering his fist. His gaze dipped to the bat and then
the cleaver in Doc’s hand. “I hope you don’t plan to use those on my account.”
I lowered the bat. “Can’t be too careful these days.” I waved my arm toward the dining room. “Do you want to come in, or should we step out there?”
“The former would be preferable, considering the circumstances.”
What circumstances? Did he mean the cold air outside on the porch, which was now blowing in around our legs? Or did this have something to do with the Nachzehrer probes searching for me in the dark?
Doc held the door wide for him.
Mr. Black brushed the snow off the sleeves of his long coat and then entered. He scanned the room in silence for several seconds after Doc had closed the door, his nostrils flaring noticeably as he sniffed for who knew what. Maybe he was hungry and wanted some of the coconut-chicken curry stew Doc had made for supper. I’d practically licked the bowl when I was finished.
His gaze came back to me. His pupils morphed into snake-like slits for a blink or two as he inhaled again, then returned to a more normal shape.
“Did you bring me another clock to monitor?” I asked, breaking the silence. He’d left more than one “ticking time bomb” on the porch before, which always ended up getting me in trouble with Cooper.
“No.”
“A weapon, then?” Like my war hammer, which I’d lost while hunting the lidérc, then found buried in the chest of an overzealous monster—this one human.
“You lose the weapons I bring,” he said with the faintest of smiles.
“Not on purpose.”
“Tonight, I have brought you something far more valued than any weapon or warning.” He looked pointedly at my bat. “Do you mind? A Scharfrichter is frightening enough without a weapon in her hand.”
“Sorry.” I set the bat on the dining room table.
“And what would that something be, Mr. Black?” Aunt Zoe asked from behind me. She stood under the archway between the dining room and kitchen.