by Flynn, Mac
Vince nodded. "Very well, we will assist you. What must we do?"
The ghost's eyes flickered to the medium and she furrowed her brow. "This is a personal matter and I would rather speak to you in private. You will meet me at my property at 113 Rue de Morgue by the old hollow oak. Be there in an hour or our agreement is no more."
The ghost disappeared in a cloud of smoke and the light in the room vanished. I blinked at the medium and Vince. "What just happened?"
Vince pursed his lips. "It seems we have another job."
"I wouldn't take this one, detective," Madam Mim spoke up. "I've dealt with enough spirits in my profession not to trust to meet one on their terms and on their property. There's a lot of bad spirits who want to lead a person to death out of jealousy of the living."
"How much do we owe you?" Vince asked her, ignoring her warning.
The medium sighed and held out her hand palm-up. "Don't say I didn't warn you, and that warning costs you extra. That brings your bill to five hundred bucks."
Our bill was paid and we left the old Victorian mansion. I paused at the front of the car and looked over the hood to Vince. "You think Madam Mim's right about this being a trap?" I asked him.
"Do we have a choice?" he countered.
I shrugged. "I don't know. You're the expert in the supernatural, you tell me."
"You have had your fair share of adventures to know caution is the best policy," he argued before he ducked into the car.
I furrowed my brow and joined him in the car where I frowned at him. "Was that a back-handed compliment?" I asked him.
A ghost of a smile slipped onto his lips. "Perhaps."
"Uh-huh, and perhaps I'm a half-vampire human stuck to an ancient vampire on a mission to get ourselves killed," I quipped. I noticed the smile slipped away at my sentence. "What? Am I wrong?"
He started the car and pulled away from the curb. "No, not wrong," he replied.
"So what's the matter?" I persisted.
"Nothing," he mumbled. Vince never mumbled.
I scooted close to him as I was uninhibited by a seatbelt in this old, pieced-together death machine. "'fess up, what do you know?"
"Much, but we must focus on the problem at hand. The property at Rue de Morgue is quite large and we may not be able to find the tree quickly," he informed me.
"Don't we have a super sniffer or something we can use?" I asked him.
"That isn't an ability given to most vampires," he admitted.
I slipped back into my seat and sighed. "Of course not. That would be really useful right now." I paused and tapped my chin. "Then again it would've been really bad to have that in the sewers, and we've been in the sewers a lot."
"Do you never stop prattling?" Vince inquired.
I grinned and batted my eyelashes at him. "Nope, but you know you love me for it." I was startled to notice a slight hint of blush on his pale cheeks. "Is that-are you blushing?" I teased him.
Vince turned away from me and somehow didn't drive us off the road. "No."
I wickedly grinned and scooted close to him again. "Uh-huh, and I'm the queen of the ghosts."
"You may become an astral spirit if you do not focus on the problem at hand," he warned me.
I leaned my left arm against his right one. "Come on, admit you like me a little. I did save your life in that alley in the Underground."
"I don't expect the situation to be repeated," he quipped.
"You never know," I cooed. Vince sharply turned the wheel and the car slid onto a left-hand street. I was unprepared for the turn and slid sideways into the passenger-side door. "Would it kill you to feel a little bit more?" I growled.
Vince's reply was to slam on the breaks and send me hurtling into the dashboard. I grasped the front and whipped my head to him for another glare, but he ignored me and nodded at the view ahead of us. "We are there."
I followed his gaze and was presented with a view of one of the spookiest Victorian mansions I'd ever seen. The house made Madam Mim's place look like a well-kept resort. The shutters hung from one or two loose nails, and the paint and shine had long ago peeled from the fish-scale shingles. The pointed roofs stuck into the clear sky like daggers, and there were no friendly lights to lighten the dark mood. The house was surrounded on all sides by a large yard, or park, and sat fifty yards back from the cracked concrete road on which we parked. Tall, scraggly bushes ran around the perimeter of the park, and inside were more wild bushes and scores of tall, ancient trees with dead, skeletal branches that knocked against each other in the slightest breeze.
"Geez, I wonder why she'd ever want to stop haunting this place," I muttered.
A weed-choked gravel driveway led from the road through the forested parkup to the front of the house, and the whole structure sat atop a small, gentle hill. At the mouth of the driveway was a faded For Sale sign that stood askew on its rickety old wood post. Vince drove us up the drive, and fifteen yards from the house I noticed a small cottage twenty yards to the left of the mansion. A pale light shone through one of the windows, showing that at least one living person still inhabited the area. Vince parked us in front of the teetering covered porch with its broken half-dozen steps, and we stepped out.
I looked up at the house and a shiver swept over me. It was the first time in a long time that I'd been cold from the night air. I glanced at Vince. "Now what do we do? Hope we find-" A quiet mumbling interrupted my questions, and soon a whole man strode around the far corner of the house between the cottage and the mansion.
He was my height, about sixty with a balding head, and wore shabby clothes that hung loose around his frame. He must have lost weight since buying them. His head was bowed and he clutched a scrap of paper in his hand on which his eyes were glued. All that was average enough except for the huge cross around his neck and the rosary in his paperless hand. There was also a strong smell of garlic and other herbs on his person that nearly made me gag. I noticed Vince take an involuntary step backward.
The stranger muttered something beneath his breath of which I caught only the slightest hint. "Damn him. He thinks he can get away with-" The man jolted to a stop and his head whipped up to us. He stuffed the scrap of paper into a pocket and glared at us. "Who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing here?" he snapped.
I stepped to the forefront of our pairing. Vince may have been our liaison with the dead, but I could handle the living. "Hello, Mr.-?"
"Robert Morley, and this is my property," he growled.
I smiled at him. "Just the man we wanted to meet. We saw the For Sale sign at the road and wondered how much your-um, your lovely house would cost." I sidled up to Vince, looped my arms around one of his, and rubbed my cheek against his sleeve. I was surprised when he only stiffened a little and didn't outright toss me to the ground. "You see, we're looking for our first home together and thought your house would make the perfect honeymoon home."
"What are your names?" Morley questioned us.
"Um, well, I'm-um, I'm Liz Vance and this is-um, Vince Vance," I replied.
The man raised an eyebrow. "'Vince Vance?'" he repeated.
"His parents had a sick sense of humor, but we were wondering about the house. How much is it?"
Morley visibly relaxed and nodded at the heap of wood formerly known as a residence. "If you want the place it's thirty thousand for the house and lot if you pay in cash, and twice that if you don't."
I raised an eyebrow. "Why so cheap?"
"None of your business, and if you're not going to pay that amount then get the hell out of here," he insisted.
"But we haven't even gotten a look around," I argued.
"No!" His reply was so fast and cold that I started back. He caught himself and pursed his lips. "The grounds and house aren't-um, aren't safe, so nobody can go through them."
"You're not seriously expecting us to buy a house without looking at it, are you?" I questioned him.
He scowled. "Listen, I'm giving a good price and if you d
on't want it then you can get the hell out of here." He jabbed a finger down the gravel driveway. "Go on! Get!"
"But-"
Morley reached into his droopy coat and pulled out a revolver with six shots. He cocked back the hammer and swung the barrel of the revolver between us. "I said get! Now scram before I waste some silver bullets on you!"
Vince set one of his hands over mine that held onto his arm and bowed his head to Morley. "We apologize for the intrusion. Come, wife, let us away," told me.
We turned away from the angry little man, climbed back into the car, and drove away from the dreary house and its rundown park.
Chapter 3
"What a smelly pain in the ass," I mumbled.
"It was fortunate he did not shoot us," Vince spoke up as we bumped onto the pot-hole filled road.
I glanced at him. "I thought silver bullets only worked on werewolves."
"They are fatal to werewolves, but the purity of the silver will cause other supernatural creatures extreme pain, and the weaker ones possible death. He may have also coated the bullets with the herbs he smeared on his person to increase their potency," Vince told me.
I wrinkled my nose. "You mean all those smells? I just thought he was trying to be a walking herb garden."
"Those smells were the amalgamation of several powerful anti-supernatural herbs and metals. I have never encountered so many on one person before," he mused.
"So is he trying to keep away his mom?" I guessed.
Vince parked the car along the road, shut off the engine and leaned back in his seat. His lips were pursed together and he glared at emptiness over the dashboard. "I believe all the precautions were regarding that slip of paper."
"Is he that afraid of a paper cut?" I quipped.
Vince shook his head. "No. The insignia on the paper was a motif of a skull within a circle, and a cross over the bones."
"Sounds like Morley doesn't like pirates," I commented.
"The insignia is one used by a powerful syndicate affiliated with Ruthven. They trade in anti-supernatural items and hexing people using illegal curses," he explained.
"Let me guess, past trouble with them?" I mused.
"Yes. Tim and I had indirect dealings with them when humans found themselves in need of a curse removal or other supernatural creatures came to us after being attacked by humans who wielded these anti-supernatural items. We never discovered the controller of the Supernatural Syndicate, only the agents," he told me.
I cringed. "How many unsolved mysteries did you and Tim pick up?" I wondered.
"Far too many," Vince commented.
"So these guys are affiliated with Ruthven how?" I inquired.
"They have traded resources. Werewolves for spells and such," he answered.
I slid down my seat and groaned. "Just what we need, more enemies."
"We will focus on Ruthven, and handle the Supernatural Syndicate only if we must," he instructed me.
"So these anti-supernatural things won't kill strong paranormal creatures, right?" I asked him.
"That's correct," he replied.
"So which category do you fall under?" I asked him.
"Need you ask?" he returned.
I shrugged. "I just wanted to make sure I was stuck to the stronger one," I teased.
"It won't kill me, but it may seriously harm you," he revealed.
I cringed. "I see your point. A good idea to run."
"We're not running." He opened his door and stepped out. I noticed we were parked on the far edge of the park wilderness. "We are merely taking a less direct route."
"And if he catches us he's merely going to shoot us," I quipped as I slid out.
"The risk of being a detective," he reminded me. He led me through the untamed bushes and onto the crab grass-infested lawn.
"You ever thought about retiring and enjoying all that hard cash hidden under your coffin?" I asked him.
"Yes," was the surprising reply.
My eyes flickered to him and I raised an eyebrow. "So why don't you? I mean, after we find what Tim was up to," I added.
"Believing we will survive this hunt is overly optimistic, so I will leave the future to the future," he answered.
I grabbed his arm and arrested our walk. Vince turned to me with a raised eyebrow and I shakily smiled at him. "You ever thought about dropping this whole thing? You know, just letting Tim rest in peace and getting out of here? We could buy an island and live off the blood of shipwreck survivors."
Vince frowned. "Have you forgotten that Tim-"
"Tim's dead," I interrupted him. I turned my face away and bit my lip. "I. . .Tim was a good friend, but maybe it's time to move on before somebody gets seriously hurt, maybe even killed. It's not that I'm really afraid of dying. Well, I'm actually terrified, but it's just that-well, I don't want to lose you. I almost lost you a few days ago, and I. . .I don't want to see that happen again, okay?"
I started when his cold hand settled on mine, and I whipped my head up to look into his eyes. His cold red ones held a soft light in them. "Liz, I-"
"There you two are! What in the hell took you!" a banshee of a voice interrupted us.
We jumped apart and turned to the thick mess of trees in front of us. The old woman's ghost floated out with her astral arms crossed over her transparent chest. She stopped in front of us and scowled. "I told you to meet me at the hollow tree, and here I find you dallying by the road."
I marched up to her and stuck my face in hers. "You didn't tell us the welcoming party was a trigger-happy asshole," I snapped back.
She floated back and waved away my concerns with her hand. "That nincompoop? That's just my idiot son. He's the one who murdered me ten years ago."
I started back. "Murdered you?" I repeated.
She gestured down at her corporal self. "I didn't get this way by falling into a gopher hole."
"Then do you wish us to avenge your death?" Vince guessed.
She turned her nose up and snorted. "No, it's past time for that. That idiot isn't going to learn that he shouldn't have done it, and I'm only hoping I've scared him enough he'll never have a good night's sleep for the rest of his life, natural and unnatural."
I held up my hands palms-out. "Wait a sec. So you're a murder victim done in by your own son and we're supposed to do what now? Ask him where he hid your body ten years ago?"
"No, ask him where he hid my body a week ago," she corrected me.
"Why did he do that?" I asked her.
"I don't know and I don't care. All I care about is finding my bones and you two giving them a proper burial so I can rest in peace," she snapped.
"Don't you know where he hid your body? I mean, can't you sense it?" I wondered.
"Don't you know anything? The astral body and real body don't work like that," she growled. She paused and rolled her eyes up to heaven. "All right, since I can see I didn't get the cream of the intellect crop I'll start from the beginning." I was starting to see why the son had knocked her off. "My name is Harriet Morley, and I was a very wealthy woman in my day. Bobby, that's the boy you met, he wanted the money I'd saved up from my husband's life insurance policy. Frank died about twenty years ago and left me enough to live on for-well, for longer than I lived. Bobby wanted it all and never did have the patience to wait for anything, so that spoiled boy of mine killed me with a knife to the back and stuffed my body in a trunk for a couple of years."
"Didn't anybody notice you were gone?" I wondered.
"No. I didn't have many friends," she replied.
"Geez, I wonder why?" I muttered.
"Of course, the police came around, but for once Bobby cleaned up after himself. They couldn't find evidence of what he'd done and stopped looking for me after a while. Of course, I tried to get their attention, but so few people believe in ghosts nowadays that the only person I could talk to was Bobby."
"Those must have been some awkward conversations," I commented.
A sly grin slipped onto her lips. "The
y were for him. I'd scare him to death by floating through the walls and he'd run screaming from room to room with me chasing him. He tried moving my body to the basement and burying me there hoping it would quiet me. That boy always was an idiot. Any fool knows a spirit can't be quieted except with revenge or a proper burial."
"So he's sticking around for what? Waiting for you to be declared dead so he can inherit the money?" I guessed.
She scowled at me. "I'm getting there. As I was saying, it only took two years to scare him out of the main house and he took up in the cottage, but I followed him there and tormented him until he started putting up all those awful symbols on the walls about four years ago. He also took to covering himself in all that nasty-smelling gunk so that I couldn't spook him outside the cottage. Of course, he doesn't usually come out anymore, not even to look for where I hid the money. That's why he's sticking around. Didn't get the money because I hid it where I hid what Hilda gave to me, and nobody's finding anything until I find my body."
"Let me get this straight," I spoke up. "You died ten years ago, and Hilda gave you something a few months ago?"
Harriet rolled her eyes toward Vince and jerked her head toward me. "Where'd you pick this one up, the human world?"
"Yes," he told her.
The ghost sighed and returned her attention to me. "I caught Hilda snatching some mushrooms from my property a few years ago and we grew friendly. That's why she gave me the-well, why she gave me what she gave me, and why you're going to help me find my body. If I can't get Bobby to confess to his horrible deed then my body needs to have a proper burial for me to rest in eternal peace, and you're going to do that for me. I'm tired of spooking that idiot into doing what's right. He's never going to change, just like his father, and I may as well leave him to rot in this mausoleum he's made of my property," she explained to us.
"So we just have to dig up your body in the basement and put it in a cemetery?" I guessed.
Her face fell and she floated to and fro. "That's where you two come in. My body, or what's left of it, has been stolen."
My eyes widened. "Someone dug up your body and moved it?"