“That’s very interesting,” I said, pointing.
Jenny removed the pin and put it on the counter. “I don’t know much about it, except that it was a gift. A boyfriend maybe, or a suitor my aunt never wanted to pursue,” she added.
I gave her a conspiratorial grin. “Unrequited love? A nice story to go with it. It looks like it’s in good shape.” And like an idiot, I reached out a picked up the pin.
The world spun. I cried out, but the vision already gripped me. Terror. I couldn’t breathe for the thudding of my heart as I struggled, but the hands that gripped my arms and pinned me were too strong. I fought, kicking and twisting, and my captor swore before a brutal fist against my temple sent me reeling. I kicked off my shoes and tried to run, but he caught me, tackling me to the pavement, where I hit like a body blow and had the wind rush from my lungs.
“Stupid bitch. You could make this easy on yourself.”
The voice made my blood run cold. I bit down on his forearm, earning more swearing and another cuff to the side of my head that made my ears ring. My heel connected with his gut and once again I made a break for it, only to be grabbed around the knees and slammed hard against the cobblestones.
“So pretty,” my assailant said in a sing-song voice that sent a shudder through me. His hands came up against my throat, pressing with murderous intent, and I bucked beneath his weight, clawing at his arms with my fingers, scratching at his skin with my nails. He kept eye contact as he choked me, smile broadening as I gasped and my mouth moved, trying to pull in precious air.
“Don’t fight it,” he urged, beaming down at me like a psychopathic angel. “It’ll be over soon.”
Black spots danced in front of my eyes. I tried to fight, but my body failed to obey my command. Blood thundered in my ears. He tightened his grip again, and my lungs burned as my body spasmed, autonomic reflexes taking over trying desperately to draw air into my lungs. Pain lanced through me, and my thinking slowed and vision blurred. My body lurched one more time, a valiant, doomed effort, and the hands tightened once again.
Something snapped, the air cut off, and everything went black
Old Ghosts
I woke up on the floor, with a pillow under my head and Maggie peering down anxiously. “Cassidy, are you back?”
I groaned in response and then tried and failed to sit up. Maggie put a hand on my shoulder and gently pressed me back. “Easy there,” she cautioned. “You went down hard.”
“The pin—”
“Teag bought it, and put it in the safe until Sorren can take a look at it,” she reassured me. “We told the seller you had low blood sugar.”
I closed my eyes and enjoyed having a nice, solid floor under me. The images from the vision loomed far too real in my memory, made worse because I knew what I glimpsed had actually happened. “Teag—”
“Teag’s out handling the front. He already texted Sorren. And he got as much information as he could from the seller about her aunt, so you can follow up when you feel better. Now rest, and I’ll fetch you some sweet tea.”
Maggie patted me on the arm and went to the fridge to pour a glass of that ice cold elixir known as southern sweet tea, equal parts water, tea, and sugar. Folks in these parts widely held that it was good for what ailed you, no matter what that might be, and they were mostly right. Maggie helped me sit up, and steadied the glass while I drank. Then she gave me a hand up and stayed close as I moved from the floor of the break room where Teag must have carried me, into the office to plop down on the small couch.
Closing my eyes just made the vision real once more, but I couldn’t keep them open forever. “Someone murdered the original owner of that pin,” I said to Maggie, who drew in a sharp breath. A lot of haunted and cursed items come through Trifles and Folly, and we make sure they don’t hurt anyone ever again. Some of the pieces pack a real psychic wallop. Usually, there’s a reason an owner chooses to get rid of a problem item, and it often has to do with a vague feeling of wrongness or uneasiness they get around the heirloom. For those without strong or developed psychic gifts, that edginess is intuition sending up an emergency warning flare.
“And you saw it happen.”
“Yeah. From the victim’s point of view. It wasn’t an accident, and it wasn’t a crime of passion. The killer hunted her, and killed for sport.”
Maggie crossed herself, although I knew she wasn’t Catholic, a warding against evil. “Did you see anything that would help you identify the victim—of the killer?”
I started to shake my head and stopped as a headache reminded me that was a bad idea. “I was seeing the victim’s perspective, so no idea what she looked like. And the killer’s face was blurry like maybe he had a stocking over his features or something. But I heard his voice. Definitely a man.”
“Time period?” Maggie knew from experience with my visions that details faded with time, so as uncomfortable as it made me to recall disturbing images, we stood our best chance of preserving important information by pressing me to talk while the memories were fresh.
“The cars looked older. Maybe 1990s?” I replied. “Around that time. Not recent.”
Maggie went to refill my glass. “Rest a bit,” she urged. “You went down hard, and you’re likely to have a bit of a goose egg on your head. Take it easy. I imagine Teag and Sorren will want to go over everything anyhow.”
I dozed on the couch and roused when I heard Teag come back into the office. “Closed up for the night,” he said and looked me over with concern. “You doing better?”
“Yeah,” I said, remembering at the last minute not to nod. “Hell of a vision.”
“Maggie told me a little bit,” he said, leaning against the wall. “When you’re up to it, I want to go over the details, and we’ll see what I can find online, although linking what you saw to an old murder probably won’t be easy.”
“It happened in Charleston,” I said, and had to stop to figure out how I could be sure. “I recognized the place. Anson Street, out behind the horse stables for the carriage rides.”
Teag smiled. “That’s good. I can use that. I’ll ask Drea if she remembers anyone saying something about a murder over there. That’s her territory.” My friend Andrea, “Drea” ran Andrews Carriage Tours, a business which had been in her family for decades. If she didn’t remember, odds were her parents might.
“That poor woman,” I murmured. “She was so terrified, and then... it wasn’t an easy death.”
Teag nodded. “Your gift sucks sometimes, Cassidy,” he replied. I couldn’t disagree. As often as my touch magic helped us stop some kind of supernatural menace, it took a toll.
“I’m just not sure what we can do about a murder from ten or twenty years ago. The police won’t take my word for evidence. And the killer seemed human—not supernatural. We’re not cops. The killer has probably already been caught, and I hope he rots in jail.”
He sipped his tea. “I know what it’s like to have a piece of a puzzle and not be able to connect the dots. For a long time, I’ve had a dream that recurs. Just a scene, with two men in business suits looking at me so intently, and they say ‘what did you see?.’” Teag shivered. “Something about it always upsets me. I can’t tell you how many times Anthony’s had to wake me up because I’m having the nightmare.” Anthony Benton, Teag’s long-time partner, came from an old Charleston family and was a lawyer with the family firm.
“And you don’t know what it’s about?”
Teag shook his head. “I think it’s a memory, but I’ve had it for so long, I can’t be sure. If it really did happen, then I’ve either forgotten everything else about the situation or pushed it way back in my mind where it can’t bother me.”
“If you discover something about the killer and it turns out to be a cold case, do you think Anthony could get access to the files—just in case there is something supernatural about it?” I asked.
“Maybe,” Teag replied. “I hate to put him on the spot, so I’ll see if I can hack into th
e database first. But if the case is old enough, the files might not be digitized. Let me see what I can find, and we’ll keep Anthony as our Plan B.”
Anthony knew about our real mission with Trifles and Folly and about our work with the Alliance. He found out the hard way after one of our battles against a crazy dark witch and a bunch of nephilim nearly killed Teag, and Anthony had to make a choice between ignorance about things that go bump in the night, and the man he loved. He chose Teag.
Still, Anthony’s role as a lawyer often created potential dilemmas. Teag, Sorren, and I sometimes had to bend some laws—especially about trespassing and breaking and entering—that it was better if Anthony didn’t know about. Plausible deniability and all that. I felt sure that Anthony suspected far more than he ever tried to confirm, his own version of “don’t ask, don’t tell.”
“Could you pick up any information from the pin or anything the seller said?” I asked.
Teag shook his head. “You spooked her pretty good going down like that.”
“Low blood sugar,” I mumbled, feeling my cheeks heat in embarrassment.
Teag laughed. “Oh, is that what we’re calling it now?”
“Shut up,” I retorted, but without any sting in my words. “Did Jenny say anything else about the piece?”
“No, she just wanted to finish the sale and leave. I did get her contact information, so when you’re feeling better, we can make up a reason and call her or go visit, and you can see if there’s more to the story, or if the old aunt can recall who gave her the pin.”
“Sounds good. You didn’t notice anything unusual about the pin itself?”
Again he shook his head. “It’s costume jewelry, department store quality. Classic design, but I think pins like that made a comeback in the 1990s for women’s suits, so that might go with what you saw in the vision. But there’s nothing special about the pin itself—probably one of thousands just like it, mass produced.”
I set the empty glass aside. Between the rest and the tea, my headache had dimmed, and I felt much better. “It’s still light outside—going to be a while before Sorren can come out. Are we still on for the four of us to go to dinner?” Kell and I often double-dated with Teag and Anthony.
“If you feel up to it.”
“It would be nice to think about something else for a while,” I admitted. “Since I’ll have to go over everything again once Sorren gets here.” Sorren has adapted to many things about modern life, from fashions to using a cell phone and email, but being a vampire—even one who is nearly 600 years old—means he can’t come out in daylight. It’s an inconvenience we’ve all just learned to work around.
An hour later, the four of us were ensconced in a booth at Jocko’s Pizzeria, our favorite pizza place. We were regulars, so the servers tended to just bring out our usual unless we made an effort to order something new. Tonight, everyone seemed content to stick with comfort food.
“You’d have thought it was the full moon this week,” Kell said, as he filled his plate with slices of pizza. “It’s been quiet lately, and then—bam! Spook-a-palooza. Still can’t figure out why.”
“Is there an anniversary of anything?” Teag mused, digging into his pasta. “Pirate battle? Slave uprising? Street riot from the Colonial days?”
Kell shrugged. “Not that we’ve found, but we’re still looking. We’re getting activity from locations all over town that aren’t usually active. Cold spots. Orbs. Interference with cell phones and computers and TVs. Strange lights. So far, no human figures or voices, but the activity seems to be growing stronger, so that might happen.” He paused to take a bite and wiped the sauce from his lips. “No one’s gotten hurt, thank heaven. But it’s scared some night watchmen and drunk tourists out of their gizzards.”
I glanced at Anthony, who seemed intent on stealing as many bites of Teag’s pasta as he was on eating his own. “How about you?” I asked. “Anything interesting you can share with the class?”
Anthony sighed. “Nothing I’m personally working on that’s remotely interesting,” he replied. “And before you ask, I don’t have any good scoop about the murder everyone’s talking about, and I couldn’t tell you even if I did.”
“After all this time, do you think the Smiley Killer could actually have come back to Charleston?” I asked.
Kell shrugged. “I’ve heard about that happening—killers who stop killing for years and then start up again. But it happened so long ago. Hell, in that much time, he might even be dead. Probably a copycat.”
“I can tell you that the cops are really edgy,” Anthony confided. “So if you’ve got any ‘after-hours extra-curricular activities’ planned, realize that the police are twitchy,” he warned. He knew that Kell’s group often teamed up with our mutual friend Ryan Alexander’s urban explorer group and that Teag and I sometimes went poking around places that weren’t exactly public property. I appreciated the warning. Bad enough to get thrown around by vengeful ghosts; I had no desire to get arrested or shot.
“It probably doesn’t help that the media made the connection between the new killing and the old killer’s signature style,” Kell observed, with a nod of his head toward the TV monitor by the bar running the local news.
Anthony swore and took a drink of his wine. “That definitely doesn’t help. I’m all for freedom of information, but sometimes an investigation goes better if all the details aren’t public. At least until the killer gets caught. Can’t tell you how many times a whole investigation gets compromised because important details got leaked too soon.”
That reminded me of the disturbing insight I’d had earlier in the day. “Two dots and a curved line,” I said, looking from Kell to Teag. As comprehension dawned, I could see it in their faces. “I think those two hauntings have something to do with the Smiley Killer.”
“Shit,” Kell said. “I was afraid of that. I’ll look into it. That might narrow things down.” I knew that Teag would be on it as soon as he got back to his computer.
Conversation steered away from troubling topics, and soon we were laughing and joking. A bottle of wine helped to lighten the mood. Once the sun set, Teag and I exchanged a look. “We’ve got to head back to the shop,” I said with a sigh, leaning against Kell’s shoulder and giving his hand a squeeze. “We have an appointment with a seller.” That wasn’t exactly the truth, but although Anthony knew about Sorren, Kell didn’t, and for his own safety, I meant to keep it that way until I had to do otherwise.
“This late?” Kell asked, concerned. I couldn’t blame him. A crazy killer was on the loose.
“Teag and I are going back together, and we’ll be in the thick of the tourist crowd the whole way,” I reassured him. Charleston stayed just as busy after dark as it did in the daytime, with carriage rides, ghost tours, and foodie-favorite restaurants and bars.
“Text me when you get home,” he said, giving me a gentle kiss.
“I will. And you and the team be careful, too,” I cautioned. “No telling where this guy is hiding out, so watch your back if you go poking around old dark places.”
Kell chuckled. “Always. I promise.”
Out on the sidewalk, Kell gave me a goodnight, lingering kiss of promise, and I took my time to enjoy it. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Teag and Anthony in a clinch as well, and I heard murmured cautions. Anthony and Kell both knew Teag and I could take care of ourselves, but it was sweet for them to worry.
Teag and I headed back to the store, both of us hyper-vigilant. We were rarely unarmed, although not in the conventional “concealed-carry” sense unless the supernatural threat was solid enough to take a bullet. I wore agate, silver, and onyx jewelry that provided a level of protection, and Teag had his own amulets to ward off dark energies. Since you can’t shoot a ghost, I made sure I had bags of salt and iron shavings in my pockets, which could disrupt all but the strongest spirits, at least for a while. We both had silver and iron daggers, and I always kept my athame up my sleeve or in my purse. Teag’s martial arts
training wasn’t much good against ghosts, but the salt-soaked small rope net he kept tucked in his backpack could definitely scramble their signal.
I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched as we walked back, although no one we passed appeared to pay us any attention. Evening didn’t tend to cool things off much in a Charleston summer, but now and again, I felt a whisper of an icy breeze when we weren’t close to any open doorways. I wished for one of Kell’s EMF readers that picked up on the energy pulses of ghosts.
“You feel that?” Teag murmured.
“Yeah. Not sure where it’s coming from.” Charleston is one of the most haunted cities in the country, and the ghost tours claim restless spirits haunt nearly every street and old building, but while we have more than our share of real spooks, most remain in a fixed position. Whatever caused the cold spots seemed to be moving with us, following us. That idea didn’t make me happy at all.
Just before we reached Trifles and Folly, I felt a presence strongly enough that the hair on the back of my neck prickled. I wheeled, but saw no one anywhere close to us on the block. From the look on Teag’s face, I could tell he sensed something, too.
Without needing to ask, we opted to go in through the front door, instead of around to the alley behind the store through the delivery entrance. When we crossed the threshold, the protection of layers of old magical wardings closed over us, and I felt as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. The oppressive presence that I had felt outside was gone.
The security light gave enough illumination for us to make our way to the break room. “Sorren?” I called quietly. He can see just fine in the dark, so I didn’t expect him to have the lights on.
“I’m here.”
We lacked his supernatural senses, so Teag closed the door between the break room and the front of the store and turned on the light. Sorren sat at the table, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. His new haircut made him look a little European hipster to me, but whenever I mentioned that he just rolled his eyes and pointed out that in 600 years, he had seen far too many styles come and go to feel complimented or insulted by my observation. I knew he paid attention mainly for camouflage, to fit in with the mortals around him. Still, it made me chuckle when I tried to imagine him dressed like those people in the old Flemish paintings, back from when Sorren had been one of the best jewel thieves in Antwerp.
Trifles and Folly 2 Page 44