Out of Mind coa-2

by Stella Cameron

  Liam waggled his fingers at Ben from behind their sister’s back. Like Ben and Poppy, Liam was dark-haired and had almost navy blue eyes. The three of them came together, regarding each other with question, although Ben’s expression was a cover for guilt. He should have let his family know he was in New Orleans.

  Chapter 12

  “We won’t open at all until I know where Willow is,” Pascal declared. He paced back and forth between a display of Meissen china and cases of Victorian jewelry. “She’s not answering her phone, and she always does. How could she have gone without you knowing, Marley?”

  The faint tinkle of low-hanging crystal chandeliers usually pleased Marley. This morning it set her teeth on edge. “I don’t interfere with Willow’s life,” she said. “Unlike some, I stick to the rules—completely.”

  Uncle Pascal had been known to bend those rules and show up in the mind of a family member at the most inconvenient times.

  “It’s my job to look after all of you,” he thundered. “If I have ever seemed to step beyond our written code, it has been to protect one of you.” His head shone and he smelled of a subtle aftershave. His energy in the morning exhausted Marley.

  “Pascal,” Gray said.

  Marley looked up at her husband and smothered a grin. His attempt to be serious in the face of Pascal’s famous temper was a miserable failure.

  “Go on, go on,” Pascal said, gesturing with one hand. “What do you want, Gray? But I warn you, it had better be something useful.”

  “I was only going to mention that it’s early and she may not be up.”

  “Not up? Not up, you say? I told you she didn’t answer her phone—not her cell, either—and the office is still switched over to the service. Willow is my most industrious and dependable niece. She is out and about her business first thing. But she doesn’t leave without… My dear niece comes to tell me to look after myself every day. Every day—do you hear me? She never leaves without making sure her old uncle is still alive and kicking.”

  That was too much for Gray. He laughed. Not just a quick chuckle, but a laugh that had him squeezing Marley’s arm and doubling over. She couldn’t be certain what amused him most: that Willow, whom Pascal constantly told off for not admitting her psychic gifts, was suddenly a saint, or that glowingly healthy and youthful Pascal would feign infirmity.

  She had to smile. “Uncle, you’re the fittest of the lot of us. You pump iron every day—Anthony sees to that.” Pascal’s trainer made sure his only client was in perfect shape. “And if you’d ever tell us how old you are, I bet it’s not a day over fifty.”

  “Are you suggesting I look fifty?” Pascal said, glowering.

  Translucent, Sykes wafted into Marley’s sight. She saw his faintly glowing shadow shape hovering behind Pascal, and she saw her brother’s most wicked smile. She tried not to look at him.

  “Can we get back to the topic of Willow?” Sykes said, materializing completely.

  Marley felt Gray jump, as he inevitably did when Sykes “appeared.” Unlike Marley, Gray didn’t see Sykes when he was in his coasting state, as he called it.

  “I take it we’ve all seen the news this morning?” Sykes said. “That’s why you’re all here with the shop door locked and talking about not opening up? It’s too early to open anyway.”

  “It’s almost nine and Willow hasn’t appeared yet,” Pascal said. “She is always here by eight. Something’s happened to her.”

  “How do you know?” Gray said—unwisely, Marley thought.

  “I know,” Pascal said.

  “He does,” Marley said. And so did she, although she didn’t intuit injury to her younger sister.

  “He knows,” Sykes said. “But you could be fair, Uncle, and admit it was the news that tipped you off.”

  Sykes was fearless. Marley had always known this, but sometimes she wished he wouldn’t bait Uncle Pascal. “I haven’t seen the news,” she said and looked at Gray. He shook his head, no. Looking at Gray early in the morning when his hair refused to lie down, he hadn’t had time to shave and he kept giving her “come back to bed” glances, was almost Marley’s favorite thing.

  “What news?” Pascal said.

  Sykes, his black hair even longer than usual, raised one winged eyebrow. “Why are you and Gray down here, Marley?”

  “Pascal asked us to come down,” Gray said. He was giving Marley that look again.

  “Where’s Winnie?” Sykes asked.

  “Sulking,” Marley said. “She went out in the courtyard early.”

  “Woke me up,” Gray said, although he didn’t sound upset about it.

  “Willow must have kicked her out earlier than she wanted to leave. So she’s grumpy about it. She always goes to Willow early in the morning.”

  “Yep,” Gray said. “But she came back… What time was that?”

  “Almost seven,” Marley said, putting an arm around his waist. They both shivered.

  “So if she was with Willow, that would be when Willow left,” Gray said. “Mystery solved. Willow went to work extra early. Now can we go back to bed?”

  Marley didn’t look at him.

  “It’s almost nine,” Pascal said. “Of course you can’t go back to bed. Don’t you writers have anything to do?”

  “Absolutely,” Gray said with an innocent smile.

  “I bet she left early,” Sykes said. “With pictures of a Mean ’n Green van outside that dance hall where the woman died all over the place, poor Willow’s probably been arrested by now.”

  Marley stared at him. Her connection to Willow was improving steadily as Willow grew more aware of her powers. Marley cast about, trying to pick up a lead on her sister, but found nothing.

  “What dance hall?” Gray said.

  “The woman lived in an apartment over the dance hall, not in the dance hall. It’s on South Rampart.”

  “Willow’s got a client there,” Marley said. “She’s mentioned her…because she’s difficult.”

  Sykes became very still.

  “What is it?” Pascal snapped. He rubbed his face. “Sykes?”

  “I was looking for Ben,” Sykes said.

  “I know that,” Pascal said. “I thought you might be.”

  Sykes wagged a long finger. “You’re at it again, Uncle, poking around where you shouldn’t. I always know, but I let you get on with it as long as you don’t interrupt something private.”

  “You shut me out all the time,” Pascal said, raising his chin. “If I get in it’s because you’ve forgotten your guard—not that it lasts long. Where is Ben—I thought he was in your flat?”

  “He isn’t there now,” Sykes said. “Wherever he is, he’s totally shut down.”

  “Mmm,” Pascal said, wrinkling his nose. “Willow’s gone and Ben’s gone. At the same time.” He glanced around, obviously not wanting to be the one to suggest Ben and Willow could be together.

  “Listen up,” Sykes said. “And keep quiet for long enough for me to tell you what’s going on with Willow.”

  He talked rapidly, shushing Pascal’s interruptions every few sentences. Marley only became more amazed—and frightened for Willow—as the story expanded.

  “Two murders and Willow’s being connected to both of them?” Gray said.

  “No,” Pascal said, shaking his head. “There’s a lot going on with Willow, but it’s nothing to do with any murders. Willow was in the wrong place at the wrong time yesterday. We already know she left Billy Baker’s shop before anything happened to him.”

  “But she was there right around the time he died,” Sykes said. “And her guy, Chris, was seen outside the dead woman’s place last night.”

  “Willow’s sure she’s being stalked,” Marley said.

  They fell silent.

  “Ben’s on dangerous ground with Willow.” Sykes made direct contact with Marley without looking at her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s playing with time. He moved her from that party last night and she may not
be up to it. It could damage her.”

  Marley crossed her arms tightly. She was already feeling as if she could be getting the flu. Now her head thumped and goose bumps popped out on her arms and legs. “I don’t understand. Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe you’re dramatizing.”

  “Dramatizing,” Sykes said. “You know I don’t mess around when my family’s health is at stake. He admitted to me that he moved her last night. Through the same moment, very rapidly. He’s intended to tolerate that. What if Willow isn’t?”

  Gray had a vacant expression, which meant he knew Marley was communicating with someone else. He probably figured it was Sykes and would wait for her to tell him what she thought necessary. There was no doubt that in Gray she had found her true Bonded partner. He was an incredibly strong man, but also accepting of the elements that made them different from each other.

  “Marley?” Sykes prompted.

  “We need to find them. Discussing something like this with Willow won’t be easy. She’s likely to pretend she doesn’t believe a word we say.”

  “As soon as we can, we’ll get to Ben first. I think he’s avoiding facing up to taking a risk with Willow. Careful, Pascal’s trying to get in.”

  Pascal glared at Marley, and she said, “Anyone got any ideas what the storm in those people’s—the Brandts—gardens while Willow was there could have to do with anything?”

  A chorus of “No” came back.

  “Right,” Gray said. “I know my miserable little powers are an embarrassment to the family, but let me try one of them out, huh?” He produced his cell phone and flourished it like a magic prop. Then he punched in a contact.

  “Who is he calling?” Pascal said. “I told him Willow isn’t answering.”

  “Neither is Ben,” Sykes said, although Marley doubted her brother relied on technology a whole lot.

  “Morning, Nat,” Gray said, ignoring the questioning looks around him. “This case is expanding fast.” He listened for a while. “That’s why I called. I wondered if Willow—if they could have come to see you. No, they aren’t here yet. How long ago did you see them? They could have stopped for breakfast. Did you call them both in…? Ben just showed up with her and their red dog? They called him Mario? Okay, we’ll expect them back then.”

  He flipped his cell shut.

  “Dog?” Sykes said. “What dog?”

  Pascal paused in the act of opening a glass case of hair jewelry. “A dog called Mario?” he said. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Their red dog, is what Nat said. Called Mario.”

  Chapter 13

  Willow couldn’t help admiring three of the four Fortune siblings in one place. They were striking, all tall, all dark-haired with a tanned gleam to their skin. Ben, Liam and Ethan—the brother who wasn’t there—were blue-eyed. Then there was Poppy, whose dark gaze was a knockout and made more so by the shadows her thick lashes cast.

  “What’s the story, bro?” Liam asked. “I couldn’t believe it when I picked up on you here. At first I thought I was slipping, but nope, it was you. Your patterning isn’t even close to anyone else’s.”

  “I intend to come home,” Ben said, “and visit everyone.”

  Willow didn’t miss the emphasis on the word visit. In other words, Ben probably didn’t have plans to move from the Court of Angels as long as he was in New Orleans.

  She blinked eyes that suddenly stung. The prospect of not seeing him again, for however long, tore at her. But as tempting as it was to encourage him to stay, she would have to let him go—or insist he did.

  Ben was a sun in comparison to her tiny light. He had power she could always feel, strong enough to make her almost fear that strength. And already he was taking over, or trying to take over for her. She would have to find out what had happened moments before his siblings arrived. The sickly tap and slither on her neck had been more insistent this time, but there had been an instant while she stood there, watching Ben watching her, when she had imagined him gone.

  Just an instant.

  Gone, yet not gone, it happened so fast.

  Poppy Fortune touched Willow’s arm. “You okay?”

  Willow looked up at her. “Not so much right now.” She hadn’t intended to be quite so truthful, but making things up got exhausting.

  “It’ll work out,” Poppy said.

  This wasn’t the woman Willow remembered from two years earlier when she and Ben had broken up. Poppy hadn’t been sympathetic; in fact, she had been in the forefront, pushing Willow to end the relationship with Ben because “There’s no way you can keep on being what he needs. He’s a major psychic talent and you’re an afterthought in a psychic family. You’re not up to Ben, Willow. Let him go—for his sake if not for yours.”

  Poppy’s cruel put-down replayed for Willow, word for word, but she said, “Thanks,” and nodded. In fact, she didn’t know what Poppy meant by “It’ll work out.”

  “You can’t let all the stuff about these murders get to you,” Poppy said. “We know how big a part coincidence plays in everything. Obviously, you aren’t involved in anything. Look at you. Who could think you’d be capable of hurting anyone? Or anything.” Her eyes fell to Mario. “Oh, will you look at that dog, Liam! What a little angel.”

  “He’s Mario,” Ben said. “And he’s a good guy.”

  Mario actually showed his teeth and they all laughed.

  Unfortunately, the mirth was very short-lived. “How do you know about the case—and Willow?” Ben asked. His expression was grim now.

  “It’s all over the TV and papers,” Liam said. “I was glad not to read your name anywhere.”

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass where you read my name.”

  Ben silenced the group again. A muscle twitched at the corner of his eye. He reached for Mario, who went willingly into his arms.

  “What just happened?” Poppy said. “We…well, we came this way just to see if we could run into you.” She hadn’t explained away their arrival at this exact spot and time.

  “Nothing just happened,” Ben said promptly.

  “But you were…” Poppy glanced upward, and Willow followed that glance up the side of the nearest building.

  I was right, you did something really weird, Ben. Poppy saw it and so did I—sort of. Willow looked from sister to brother.

  “You used remote imaging,” Ben said. He held Mario up and peered into his face. “And you used it inappropriately. It’s for emergencies, remember?”

  “It was an emergency to me,” Poppy said quietly. “I was looking for you. Okay, let’s not argue. Have you two had breakfast?”

  “I have to get to work,” Willow said, hearing the lack of civility in her voice. “But it’s nice of you to mention it.”

  “It’s been too long since I had a chance to talk to you, Willow,” Poppy said. “I’ve seen you around, but…” She let the sentence trail off.

  “We’re both busy,” Willow said.

  Poppy’s smile looked genuine. “Another time soon, then?” She sobered. “I should have come to you a long time ago.”

  Willow felt uncomfortable—and curious.

  “I’ll go back by the shop with you,” Ben told her. “Then I’ll run you to your office.”

  “I’ve got my scooter.”

  He gave her a hard look. “I’ll run you in today, okay?”

  “We were hoping you’d come back with us,” Poppy said. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do, and Liam and I have an idea we want to run by you. Ethan, too. We could all walk Willow home, Ben. Then you could come with us.”

  “Poppy—” Liam began.

  “Don’t worry, sis,” Ben said, tight-lipped, but sounding pleasant enough, “You’ll probably see more of me than you want to. I’ve got to do something about getting you married off.”

  Poppy’s mouth fell open. It was still open when Ben led Willow rapidly away.

  Liam’s laughter followed them.

  Chapter 14

  Ben did drive Willow to work. H
e had pulled her to a halt on the sidewalk, two shops short of Millet’s, and opened the passenger door of a black Citroën parked at the curb. “They’re all in the shop waiting for us to get back,” he said. “You want to walk into that, or get to work?”

  Willow didn’t ask how he knew what was going on inside a showroom he couldn’t see. She accepted that he could and climbed into the car at once, Mario on her lap. “Where did this car come from?” she asked when Ben got behind the wheel. “It wasn’t here when we left.”

  “Of course it was,” he said.

  Willow pursed her lips and they drove in virtual silence. He didn’t even know that with each new and unexplained event, he made her more certain she had to find a way to make him feel good about leaving again.

  Mean ’n Green’s current offices were in two rooms reached by passing through a recently opened tattoo parlor at the back of a dilapidated terra-cotta-washed building. This morning Willow was glad she had not gotten around to having any kind of sign out for the business yet—that might make it a little harder for the curious to find them.

  When Willow got out of Ben’s car in the minuscule parking lot, she cringed at the sight of a police car pulling in behind them. She glanced nervously around, expecting the press to have the place staked out. The cruiser was the only potentially hostile object in sight.

  “Don’t worry,” Ben said. “I’m coming with you.”

  How she wished she could say, “Great.” Instead she ducked down to see him and said, “Let me call you if they’re here to see me. They may not be, but anyway, we don’t want to look as if we’re on the defensive and you’re my bodyguard.”

  “Why not?”

  “You are so predictable,” she hissed. “Now please do what I want for once. Thanks for being with me….” The cop got out of the cruiser and stood in front of the tattoo parlor. “See,” Willow continued rapidly, “nothing to worry about anyway. He’s here for the tattoo parlor. Happens all the time.”