The pounding intensified, the sound slashing against the windows, too.
"It's rain," Joyce said, indicating the wet glass. "A sudden storm."
Like the night Raven had returned to her, Allie thought. The night they'd first spoken. That she'd discovered who he was.
"Vanessa?" she said, hoping the indicator would move again.
It did. Only it slid to No.
"You're not Vanessa?"
No.
"Then who are you?"
The indicator stalled.
Allie glanced at Joyce. The female detective waited, pen in hand, to write down the spirit's name.
No one moved a muscle. Daniel's crucifix was shimmering again. Allie prayed that it was a good sign. That the ghost wasn't trying to defy the man nailed to the cross.
Finally the indicator inched to the letter S.
Another pause. More rain.
O.
Lightning flashed across the window.
R.
Thunder cracked.
Another R.
Goose bumps peppered Allie's skin.
E.
The indicator slid to the final letter.
L.
"Sorrel," Joyce said, reading the name she'd written, the name Allie had already spelled in her mind.
She removed her fingers from the indicator, slowly, cautiously. Derek, Kyle and Daniel lifted their fingers, too. Only it didn't matter. The device was moving on its own, without any human contact, without the living.
The ghost was taking control.
The lights went out, making the Ouija board glow even brighter. Everyone got up and backed away from the table. Derek's announcement that negative energies weren't welcome hadn't worked.
Rain pummeled the roof, and the room turned cold. Allie thought about Raven, praying that he was safe. That Sorrel didn't know he was in the studio.
Joyce, the consummate detective, reached for a candle, determined to utilize the light, to dictate Sorrel's message, no matter what it said. Her husband was right by her side, ready to protect her.
Allie stood between Derek and Daniel, fearful of what would come next. Daniel moved closer, and their hands brushed. A feather-light touch. An emotional connection. She glanced at his hazy figure, searching for strength, for the religious symbol he wore. But she couldn't see it.
She turned back to the Ouija board. The indicator slid from letter to letter.
Joyce tracked them, then read Sorrel's words. "Vanessa used a knife. I saw her body. Made me laugh."
Allie wanted to burn the board, to send her grandmother straight to hell. But then she smelled the fragrance associated with Vanessa.
Raven's wife was here.
Daniel grabbed Allie's hand and squeezed it. He smelled the fragrance, too.
Joyce read another message. "Bloody Vanessa. Mourning her husband. So much fun."
Allie's stomach knotted. She pictured Sorrel as a child, enjoying the aftermath of Vanessa's suicide, giggling about the young woman's pain.
Derek leaned into Allie and whispered in her ear. "Ask your grandmother a question."
"No," she whispered back. She wouldn't talk to that bitch.
"Ask her about the amulet," he pressed, his voice still hushed. "If she knows who stole it."
Allie shook her head, and an enormous shadow appeared on the wall.
A lizard.
Her heart skipped a thundering beat. Vanessa was trying to communicate with them, trying to converse without Sorrel's knowledge.
What did the lizard mean? Was it more than a supernatural symbol? More than the animal that had helped Child of Water, that had triumphed over monsters?
Joyce kept reading. "I threw rocks at Vanessa's family," she said, repeating Sorrel's bragging. "Mother was pleased."
Kyle motioned to Allie. He and Joyce were keeping Sorrel busy, giving her the attention she required, reacting to her messages and pretending that she was the only entity in the room. But from the corners of their eyes, they saw the lizard.
By now, the reptile was shifting, turning into the shadow of a man. Derek and Daniel watched it, too.
"Mother will get her revenge," Joyce said, continuing to give Sorrel a voice. "She will destroy all of you."
No, Allie thought. We'll destroy her.
The shadow hovered over the Ouija board, moving toward it, and suddenly the indicator went crazy, spinning in circles, as though Sorrel had discovered its presence.
Then nothing happened.
Complete stillness.
The lights came back on, and Allie was gazing at the faces of her companions. Silence bounced between them. The rain had stopped. No water. No thunder. No lightning.
Sorrel was gone.
And so were Vanessa and the shadow on the wall.
* * *
An hour later, the same people sat around the same table. Only this time, they dined on the spaghetti dinner Allie had thrown together: jarred marinara sauce, packaged garlic bread and bottled dressing for the salad. While they ate, they discussed the plight of the amulet.
Raven was still locked in the studio, and Allie felt badly about that. But Vanessa and her suicide kept coming up, and she didn't want him to overhear what was being bandied about.
"Sorrel is a lousy witch," Derek said, interrupting Allie's thoughts. "Her energy wasn't very strong. She's nothing like Zinna." He readjusted his napkin, smoothing it on his lap just so, looking like the fussy Hollywood mogul he was. "Of course Vanessa's energy was limited, too. She's trying to help, but she's struggling to communicate."
"She's leaving clues." This came from Joyce, who was making good on her salad, eating all of the raw vegetables Allie had tossed in. "The lizard. Oh, and the burial in the mirror. That must have come from Vanessa."
Allie agreed. "She wanted Raven to see her burial for some reason."
Kyle spoke up. "Is it possible that Vanessa's family buried the amulet with her? Could that be what she was trying to convey?"
"I don't see how," Daniel said. "Rory told Allie that he is close to finding the amulet. And there's no way he would rob Vanessa's grave and put what he stole in the museum. He's too careful to pull a stunt like that, especially with all of us on his tail."
"Then I wonder why Vanessa showed Raven her burial." Kyle reached for his water and studied the glass. Then he jolted and turned to Allie. "Remember when you first called and asked me if I knew anything about ravens? Well, guess what? I forgot about the Origin of Death story."
"The Origin of Death?" Her heart pummeled her chest. Like her, Kyle was half Apache. Only he knew more about his heritage. "Is it a Chiricahua myth?"
He nodded. "It's a Coyote story. I kept thinking the other animal in it was a crow, but now that I think about it, it's a raven." He paused, drank some water, then said, "The story is pretty simple. Raven didn't want any death in the world, so he threw a stick in the river and said that if it sank, there would be death, if not, everything would be all right."
"Did it sink?" Allie asked.
"No. It wasn't Raven who caused death. It was Coyote. He made the same claim, but he did it with a rock. The rock sank, and after that people started to die off."
Allie stopped eating. "If the raven in the story tried to prevent death, then do you think that means my Raven won't die?"
"I have no idea." Kyle shifted the question to Daniel. "What do you think?"
"I don't know." Daniel sat next to Allie, dipping his bread into his sauce, making a show of seeming busy, of guarding his feelings.
But in his eyes, she saw his emotions. He'd promised to help her save Raven. A pledge she knew he would keep.
Finally, he caught her gaze, and they stared at each other. And at that soft, silent moment, Allie wanted to put her head on his shoulder, to take comfort in his arms.
Kyle shattered the quiet. "Did you know that the Warrior Society calls Daniel Fearless?"
Allie righted her posture. She'd been leaning toward Daniel, getting much too close. "What?"<
br />
"Fearless Fly," Daniel said. "It's stupid."
She couldn't help but laugh. Fearless Fly was a vintage cartoon character, a superhero insect whose power came from his eyeglasses.
Daniel flicked a garbanzo bean from his salad at her. "Knock it off."
She popped a raw carrot at him. "But it's funny."
He shrugged, but he laughed, too. Apparently he'd learned to accept his nickname with a sense of humor.
But she suspected that the Society had chosen it carefully. Daniel Deer Runner was Fearless. He didn't flaunt his power, but it was there, as strong as his crusades, as the complicated man he'd become.
She wondered if she should tell him that Raven was envious of him. Not now, of course. But sometime when they were alone.
On the other hand, maybe being alone with him wasn't such a good idea.
They were staring at each other again.
"We need to get back to work," she said.
Daniel agreed. He broke eye contact and resumed the séance discussion without a hitch. "The shadow on the wall scared Sorrel away."
"Which means what?" Allie asked, shifting gears just as quickly. Her lover's soul was at stake. "That the shadow is more powerful than Sorrel?"
Derek snorted. "I already told you that she was a lousy witch."
"Maybe the shadow represents a shaman," Joyce said.
"The one Vanessa might have given the amulet to?" Allie prayed that they were onto something. "I have a list of medicine men from Raven's village, but I haven't had time to search for their descendants. It's next on my agenda."
"Can I see it?" Kyle asked. "Maybe I'll recognize some of the names from the rez. In the early days, sometimes the father's name became the family name."
Or a child's name was changed at school, Allie thought. The way Raven's had been altered. But she assumed the shamans were older men who hadn't attended Indian boarding schools.
She got up from the table, grateful for Kyle's help. He'd spent a portion of his youth on the Mescalero Reservation in New Mexico, where most of the Chiricahua lived today.
She retrieved the list from her desk, then returned to the kitchen and handed it to Kyle.
He mulled it over.
"Anything?" Daniel asked.
"These two are familiar." Kyle reached into his pocket and removed a pen, putting asterisks by them. "But I have no idea if they're from the same lineage as the medicine men."
"It's worth a shot." Daniel took the paper. "Check this one out. Lagarto. That's Spanish."
Kyle put away his pen. "Lots of Apaches have Spanish names."
"Yeah, but I think lagarto means lizard."
Allie's pulse raced. "You think?"
"My Spanish is a bit rusty."
"Then let me double-check." She left the table, rushed into the living room and booted up her computer. When she returned, she came back with the information.
Daniel was right. The English translation of the shaman's name was Lizard. They'd just unearthed one of Vanessa's clues.
A second later, Allie smelled the other woman's scent. She glanced around the table. No one else reacted but Daniel. No one else knew Vanessa was there. Anxious, they both spun around.
And saw the ghost of Raven's wife.
She sat on the floor with her knees drawn to her chest, looking the way Sorrel had described her.
Using a knife and bathed in blood.
Chapter 12
"Vanessa is here," Allie said, getting up from her seat. Daniel got up, too.
"What do you mean?" Derek asked. "That you can see her?"
"Yes." Allie took a step closer, recognizing her from the picture Fallon had copied from the Internet. Only this time, Vanessa looked filmy, transparent, the way one might expect a ghost to look. But even so, the details were clear.
She rocked back and forth with a knife in her hand, cutting into her plain cotton dress and stabbing her chest. Blood soaked the garment, making deep red stains. Her hair was shorn, chopped haphazardly. She was crying, wailing as she rocked, only no sound came from her mouth, like a haunted movie with the volume turned down.
Daniel moved closer. "She's mourning."
Allie nodded. Sorrel had said that, too. But why was Vanessa mourning a man who wasn't dead? "Raven said that she would have waited for him. That she wouldn't behave like a widow."
"Then she must have known that he wasn't coming back," Daniel responded.
"But how?"
"I'm not sure." He crouched beside the ghost, but she didn't react to his presence. "Maybe Lagarto told her. Maybe he was psychic. Maybe he knew."
Allie knelt on the other side of Vanessa. "She isn't even looking at us."
"I don't think she's able to connect with us that way." Daniel attempted to stroke her shorn hair, to comfort her, but his hand went straight through her. There was nothing solid for him to grasp. "She probably wants to. But it just isn't happening."
"What are you doing?" Derek asked. "Why do you have your hand out like that?" By now, he and Joyce and Kyle were standing off to the side, watching Daniel and Allie.
"I'm trying to touch her," Daniel responded.
"Are you crazy?" Derek snapped. "What if this is a trick of some kind? A glamour?"
Daniel pulled his hand back. "A what?"
Allie responded, "An illusion created by witchcraft. But that isn't what this is. Vanessa is here. She's real."
Derek sighed. "How can you be sure?"
"Because Daniel and I smelled the fragrance before she appeared. And I can sense the difference between witch and ghost energy." Allie gazed at the knife. Vanessa kept cutting, making deeper wounds.
Dejected, Daniel sat on the floor. "She's going to bleed to death."
Allie blinked back tears. "And we can't stop her."
"She needs to move on." Kyle came forward, taking cautious steps. It was obvious that he couldn't see Vanessa. But he accepted that she was there. "She needs to go to the underworld."
"Is that like Heaven?" Allie asked.
He nodded, explaining the Chiricahua belief. "It's a place beneath the ground where a stream of water flows and everything is green. There are cottonwoods, too. Lots of trees."
Allie gazed at Vanessa's grief-stricken face. Even swollen from tears, she was soft and pretty, with deep-set eyes and long, feminine lashes.
"Traditional Indians would think we were crazy," Kyle said. "Having a séance. Conjuring spirits."
Allie understood what he meant. Her dad had taught her that Natives who followed the old way had taboos about death. It was a topic they avoided.
Daniel fingered his crucifix, a reminder that he believed in the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. "I wasn't raised that way."
"None of us were." Even Raven spoke of death, Allie thought. But he'd been "white-manized" at boarding school. "We're not in any danger. Vanessa won't hurt us."
"She's getting weaker." Daniel's voice was quiet. Vanessa was losing consciousness, sliding forward, falling onto the kitchen floor. "She'll be dead soon."
"She's already dead," Derek reminded them. "She's been gone for a hundred years."
"I wish I could see her," Joyce said. "I wish I could do something to take away her pain."
"I think this is her way of telling us that she was too lonely to stay alive," Daniel said. "That she couldn't bear to be without her husband."
Vanessa's image turned mistier, even more transparent.
"She's fading," Daniel whispered.
Yes, Allie thought. Vanessa was disappearing, becoming invisible once again.
But the ache she left behind weighed heavily on their minds.
* * *
The following afternoon, the hunt for Lagarto's descendants was under way, with Allie and Kyle at the helm, using the loft as their research station.
Daniel, Joyce and Derek were at their respective jobs today, but they intended to get involved, too. Joyce would be running police and FBI background checks to see what came up in the Lagarto name, an
d Daniel had volunteered to contact the Fort Sill Museum and talk to a historian. As for Derek, he would be looking into the shaman angle, just in case someone in Lagarto's family had followed in his footsteps.
Allie glanced at Kyle. He had the phone pressed to his ear. He'd offered to call the Apache tribe of Oklahoma, where some of the Chiricahua remained, as well as contact the Mescalero Reservation where he'd grown up, where two-thirds of the Chiricahua had gone after Fort Sill.
Allie sat at her computer in the living room, searching genealogy Web sites for ancestral ties to Lagarto.
The Chiricahua consisted of four bands. She assumed Lagarto was from the same band as Raven, but she couldn't be sure. When she'd asked him, he'd cawed and flapped his wings, giving her what appeared to be an affirmative response. Clear-cut communication was difficult. He was, after all, a bird. For now, he was flying around the loft, looking for amusement. Samantha was taking a catnap, ignoring his efforts to get her attention.
Allie reached for her coffee and took a sip. She was on her third cup, each stronger than the last.
Sleep had eluded her last night.
She couldn't stop thinking about Vanessa, cutting herself, bleeding for the man she'd lost.
Yet suicide wasn't the answer. Death hadn't cured Vanessa's loneliness. She was still drifting through life as a ghost.
Allie heard a ruckus and looked over at Kyle. He'd just hung up the phone and was waving his hands, attempting to shoo Raven away. The bird was trying to steal his headband, the Apache-style cloth he always wore tied around his head.
Raven finally nabbed the headband, taking quite a few strands of Kyle's shoulder-length hair with it.
"Damn." The man who'd become the butt of the bird's joke glared at Allie. "Can't you control him?"
She struggled not to laugh. Raven landed on her desk with Kyle's possession stuffed in his bill.
"You know better than that," she told him.
He merely chuckled.
She tapped the top of his head. "You have to stop playing tricks on people."
He leaned forward, encouraging her to take a chance and pet him. As she stroked his feathers, guilt reared its shameful head. As soon as he shifted back to a man, she had to tell him about Vanessa.
Kyle walked over to them. "Come on, buddy, give it back. My hair gets in my eyes."
Never Look Back Page 12