Downpour

by Kat Richardson

  I scoffed and shoved him gently backward. “Goofball.”

  He exaggerated his loss of balance and fell on his ass, taking me with him, laughing all the way down. I landed on his chest and he let out his breath with an oof! Then he pulled me hard against him, wriggled a little, and caught my legs with his so I was pressed against him full length. “Mmm . . . That’s nice.”

  A voice floated down from above. “You have no time for that.”

  It wasn’t Willow’s voice, exactly, but it was something like it. More resonant, but not loud, as if the speaker were standing in a hollow place that reflected the sound slightly out of sync. A small cloud descended from the ceiling, filtering straight through the floor from the master bedroom rather than coming down the stairs.

  Quinton didn’t quite focus on it, but he had turned his head in the right direction and was squinting like a man trying to see against the glare of the sun. He kept his arm around my waist as we struggled back up to our feet to face the apparition. His breathing was a little fast, and I could feel his excitement and apprehension tingle across my skin and shorten my own breath. I worked to keep my own emotions calm.

  “Ghost?” he whispered.

  I nodded.

  The mass of Grey-stuff billowed and tumbled, changing shape on its surface, but staying about the same dimensions—a tapering column about five feet tall and two feet at the widest point in the center. It sank to within a foot of the floor and stopped, floating and churning in front of us. A broad-cheeked, almond-eyed face pushed out of the mist and was replaced by another and then another—a company of spirits taking turns looking us over. A dragonlike head extruded from the cloud for a moment and thrust toward us, its ghostly jaws agape. Quinton flinched.

  The first face returned. “She is leaving.”

  “Willow?” I asked. “But—”

  “We awaken to our own. We have told her she must talk to your policeman. It is right.”

  “Ancestors,” I whispered.

  Quinton nodded. He wasn’t scared, just excited. I would have interrogated him to find out what he was experiencing, but the spirits of Sula’s family spoke again.

  “When the stone was here, we could not be heard. Our daughter died without our voice in her ear. Our granddaughter lost her way. It must be made right. Willow will help you. Go to the sister’s house and tell what you know.”

  The collective spirit began fading, sparkling into dust and water vapor wafting on curls of colored smoke that rose off the grid. I felt I was supposed to do something, but I couldn’t think what.

  “Bow,” Quinton whispered. “Be polite.”

  Hastily, we bowed together, his arm still around my waist. “Thank you,” I murmured.

  The house flickered and seemed to dim into ghostlight and fog, leaving us an instant’s impression of being surrounded by hundreds of ghosts who looked at us and laughed. “Love has brought power back to our house.” They bowed to us in return and vanished in the sudden drawing of a breath.

  Quinton staggered against me as we found ourselves alone and back in the small house at the lake’s edge. I wasn’t so startled; I’d gotten used to the sudden comings and goings of ghosts.

  “Did we actually move or did I imagine that part?” he asked.

  “Not physically,” I replied. “Did you see them?”

  He seemed a little dazed, nodding. “I—I certainly did. They were kind of vague at first, so I wasn’t sure.... I could hear them better than see them, and even that was kind of lousy. And then they were . . . they were here. Or we were there. I’m a little confused.”

  “No, you’re spot-on. It’s here and there at the same time. Makes you a little seasick at first.”

  Quinton let go of me and flopped into the nearest chair, blowing out a long, slow breath. “Yeah. Am I going to have to get used to that?”

  “I don’t know. What do you see now?”

  He glanced around. “Um . . . the living room.”

  “Look very attentively out of the corners of your eyes. Sounds crazy, I know, but give it a try.”

  I watched him struggle with it, shifting his eyes as he turned his head.

  “This is giving me a headache. . . .”

  “But do you see anything . . . unusual? Sort of sneaking up in your peripheral vision.”

  “Some flashes, but nothing I can identify or focus on.”

  I heaved a sigh. My relief was almost embarrassing. I smiled. “I think you’ll be fine. Well, normal at least. Most people can see the Grey once in a while, just around the edges. If you start seeing it easily, right in front of you, then you need to worry.”

  He looked up at me and cocked his head to the side. “I don’t know if I’m pleased or disappointed.”

  “I think I prefer you normal.”

  “I object to being called something as boring as ‘normal.’ ”

  “Will you settle for ‘within a standard deviation of deviant’?”

  He gave it a token thought. “I guess,” he replied with a shrug. “Now I’d better go shut that generator down so we can go back to hunting killer mages.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  The parking area in front of the Newmans’ house was crowded once we added my Land Rover to the mix. The sleet and rain had hardened into ice as the sun had tilted down, but this time there was no red flash across Blood Lake at sunset; the clouds were too heavy and black overhead, leaking fine flakes of ice-sharpened snow. Even in the premature night, I recognized Ridenour’s park service pickup, carefully turned tail in so leaving would be easier. Beside it was a pale blue truck I recognized as Shea’s, its paint so oxidized it looked dusty, the low white shell over the bed gone rusty at every corner. As we headed for the door, I wondered where Willow was, and, not seeing any sign of a sheriff’s car, if she’d bring Faith with her whenever she arrived. There were a couple of small boats tied up at the dock now, too, and I didn’t envy their owners the cold trip home.

  A wind had started up as the clouds blackened and the lake seemed to boil, throwing harsh reflections off wave tops where the light from the living room windows fell on the water. Even if there hadn’t been random streaks of energy and the fog of discorporated spirits all around, the lakeshore would have seemed haunted and dark with menace. I shivered and tightened my red scarf around my throat—red was lucky, wasn’t it? I hoped so.

  Quinton’s coat flapped, giving him the aspect of a crow as we climbed the steps to the porch. Geoff Newman opened the door before we reached it, staring out at us with anxiety clear on his face. He rushed us inside, taking our coats and whispering into my ear, “I hope you know what you’re doing. Jewel’s so wrought up, I don’t know what she’ll do.”

  I frowned at him but couldn’t get a word out before I heard his wife spitting out angry words behind us. I kept my scarf, draping it over one shoulder like a sash of rank. These were people used to having their way and I hoped the bloodred cloth would warn them off trying it.

  Turning, I stepped down into the living room. Jewel was seated in a large high-backed chair deeper into the center of the room, dressed regally in long layers of silk dyed the colors of evergreens and strong tea. She swore at Costigan, who stood nearby in his sarong and cross. He glared at her as the words fell like red thorns between them.

  At first I couldn’t see him, but I soon spotted Ridenour hunched on a piano bench near the windows as far from Jewel and Costigan as he could get. He looked so miserable, I could almost imagine the ghost of his demon wife hovering at his shoulder, pouring crocodile tears. Beyond him, hidden from the doorway, Shea leaned against the curve of the walnut baby grand and watched them all, looking incongruous in his Noel Coward pose while wearing grubby work clothes. The energy in the room strobed and banged against the walls in dizzying colors. Through the huge windows I could see a tower of coruscating light far to the south that seemed to reach and bend toward us. The ley weaver hadn’t left his creation, but he was watching everyone in the room nonetheless.

  And the
y were all, suddenly, watching me. Quinton kept to my side but a step back, letting me lead and giving the strong impression no one would get to me without going through him first.

  Jewel sent me an imperious glance that was only a little spoiled by the sickly olive color of her aura and a sudden fit of coughing. Geoff darted to her side and tried to help, but he only got pushed aside for his pains.

  Costigan cackled.

  “Shut up,” I advised him, stepping closer to the middle of the room. I leaned a bit sideways and waved out the window.

  “What are you doing?” Jewel sputtered, covering her mouth with a handkerchief that was already spotted brown and red.

  “Just making sure everyone’s paying attention,” I replied. The light of Beauty flushed blue and then gold. I turned around. “But we are still missing someone, so let me start with the easy part.”

  “Sure of yourself . . .” Costigan started.

  “I generally am,” I lied, cutting him off. “You can take it up with your loa, if you feel slighted . . . Elias.” I swept them all with an unblinking stare before I started in again. “You all came to the lake for the same thing: power.”

  Jewel began to object, “This is my lake.”

  “Only by theft. This was Sula’s lake and it should have been her daughter’s lake, but Sula died and you grabbed the power while you could. Because you were the oldest and the biggest bully.”

  “You can’t talk to her like that,” Newman sputtered.

  “I wouldn’t have to if you did it. She bullies you the most, Newman. She bullied you into marrying her so she could build this house on the nexus, and she bullies you every day until you’ve forgotten what it’s like not to be pushed around. Except for you and the rightful owner, the lot of you are a bunch of opportunists and johnny-come-latelies. There used to be just one lake keeper—that’s the way the system was meant to work since Storm King threw his peak down and drowned the whole valley. When the magic got loose, you all came to feed, like vultures on carrion.”

  I noticed Ridenour staring at me, a sick, dazed expression on his face. I turned to him. “Even you. You didn’t see it that way, but you still grabbed onto the power with both hands when it was offered, even when you didn’t know what it was or how to use it. You didn’t really care what May did to get you promoted so fast; you were just glad she did it.”

  “No!” he croaked, starting to rise but sinking back down as if his legs wouldn’t hold him.

  “Oh, you did. You all did. But none of you latecomers were so greedy that you tried to get it all for yourself. You didn’t challenge Jewel, not at first. You just gathered what you could and used it. That was enough for most of you.” I could feel the energy in the room flux and change as someone opened the door. I hoped it was Willow, but I couldn’t look back to be sure. Then a burst of confidence that wasn’t mine pushed through me and seemed to ground me against the rising fury the spell-flingers were building as they stared at me.

  Quinton must have seen Willow come inside, I thought, but there was more to the sensation of solidity, a vibration in the floor that was different....

  I went on, shifting my subject and hoping Willow had brought Faith with her.

  “But one of you was a lot more ambitious than he let on. He wanted everything, and, when he couldn’t have it, he found ways to steal it. When Darin Shea thought someone would take it away, he killed that person. Killed Steven Leung, killed Alan Strother—”

  “No!”

  The room seemed frozen, teetering on a fulcrum.

  I turned to Ridenour, surprised it was he. Or was I? I raised an eyebrow, but I kept Shea in sight at the same time. “Are you confessing to it yourself or do you disbelieve me?”

  Ridenour looked dizzy, and his eyes didn’t quite focus on me, but he was on his feet, clasping his hands together so tightly, the knuckles were white. A thin violet thread winked over his shoulder, twisting back to Darin Shea—he’d picked up a lot from his mentor.

  “Why are you accusing Shea?” the ranger mumbled. “You don’t have evidence, or cause. . . .”

  “I’m quite sure there’s more than enough evidence in Shea’s truck. Such as a watch he couldn’t begin to afford and that never belonged to him, just like those cuff links you found today . . .”

  Shea’s eyes widened behind Ridenour, but he didn’t move otherwise. And something new rippled across the Grey, two moving forces that collided near my feet, making the room shiver. I couldn’t look back yet. Let it be Soren Faith, even if he thought I was insane for what I was going to say, please let him listen to the rest....

  Ridenour swayed. “You came here looking for something against him. . . .”

  “Yes, I did,” I replied. “I came up here to interview Shea for a court case, but I never could find out anything about his background. He’s slippery as a fish and as hard to find as the invisible man—someone who could commit murder and never be noticed. But no matter how hard he tried to conceal it, he does have a past and some of you know it, if you just stop and think. He killed Steven Leung and he sank his car in the lake. He killed Alan Strother so no one would put the pieces together about where he went and when. He also sent your wife back to hell.”

  “He’s—he’s not like that,” Ridenour objected. He looked mesmerized.

  “Why not? Why are you defending him? Because he’s been around for twenty years? Because he’s cheap and friendly and always willing to help? Or because he spied on Willow and told you she was up at the greenhouse so you could ambush her? He played on your hate, but he’s the one who created it when he made you think it was Willow who drove May away. Who was he friends with?” I demanded. “Who did he do extra work for and spend extra time with?”

  “Everyone!” Ridenour shouted. I could see Shea mouthing the word behind his back.

  “Not everyone,” I snapped back. “Newman won’t have him around. One thing I’ve learned about the rich is that they stay that way by holding on to their money. So why wouldn’t the richest man in the area use the cheapest labor he could find? Because he knew he couldn’t trust him. Newman knew Shea was a thief, a liar, and a sorcerer.”

  “A what?” The words came from in front and behind me at the same time. I’d shocked Faith, but he was listening. I kept my concentration on the men in front of me. They were the dangerous ones.

  “You heard me! Don’t play stupid, Ridenour. You already know there’s something strange here, and you believe in it enough to have lived with a fox-demon as your common-law wife for years. You didn’t know she came by magic, but you knew magic sent her away, and you believed Willow had done it because you knew Willow wasn’t just a hell of a woodsman, as you told me. The woods literally love her; they do what she says, even the bears and the mysterious white ‘deer’ that came down to the ranger station. Did you really think they were just passing by that night they attacked the station at Hurricane Ridge? I was with you, and all you could think about was catching Willow Leung. You didn’t even worry about your man trapped in the station. Or me. You left me here to break the news about finding Steven Leung’s body in the lake. Me, a stranger you didn’t even question about how I’d found a vehicle that had been missing for five years. You didn’t care about anything but taking revenge. And that’s how he’s played all of you. By your weaknesses, by your greed, and vanity, and laziness.

  “He was right in front of you all the time, taking away everything you really cared about. And you, none of you, saw what he was doing. You saw only what you wanted. Even the way he looks is a mirror of what you want to see. He played you!” I roared at them.

  They all stared back and the floor shook, but it couldn’t knock me down. I could hear something in the Grey, something singing and whispering.

  Then Faith brushed past me, striding toward Shea. He had his handcuffs in one hand and the license plate from Steven Leung’s Subaru in the other. Shea backpedaled toward the window. Faith threw the plate onto the piano and reached for Shea, saying, “You’re under arre
st for the murders of Steven Leung and Alan Stroth—”

  The song broke and something black shrieked past my ear toward Faith and Shea. I whipped back to see where it had come from and saw Willow at the edge of the room, her hands flung out and a fierce expression on her face. “What you took, you now will lose,” she spat. She twisted her hands as if tightening the lid on a jar.

  Behind me, Shea screamed. I spun around to see the spiked, black torus of Willow’s curse spin and fall around his head and shoulders. His shriek shook the room and he wrenched one hand loose from Faith’s closing handcuffs. Then he threw himself back against the glass, howling words that made no sense.

  The window exploded outward and Shea was propelled through with the force, into the lake, which heaved upward as if it meant to embrace him.

  To the south, Beauty burst into screaming red light that turned the waters of Lake Crescent a bloody crimson. Light rushed up from the depths of the lake with a rage of noise; shafts of impossible color pierced the water and the sky like swords and batted the tumbling shape of Darin Shea sideways through the air. He skipped and tumbled over the surface for a moment, then dropped into the shallows where Jin had raised the wreck of Steven Leung’s car.

  Illuminated by the howling lights from Beauty and the lake, the shoreline was as bright as day, and we all saw Shea stagger to his feet and vanish into the scrub. A crying laugh and the flicker of shadows followed him.

  Behind me I felt the press of others as I leaned out to see the lake. Willow’s voice muttered in my ear, “I’m going to make sure he dies powerless and screaming. Like my father.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Soren Faith put his hand on Willow’s shoulder as if he were keeping her in touch with the floor when she might have levitated out the broken window after Shea. He squeezed his eyes shut against the flaring lights off the lake for a moment and then blinked until he could see her more clearly. “I don’t know what’s going on here. In a year I’ll probably have convinced myself I never saw or heard any of this—or I hope to God I do—but right now we are going to pursue and apprehend a killer in the perfectly normal way.” He glared at Willow and then at me. “And you all are going to sit tight and wait until we do and not go running around in the dark . . . doing whatever you’re doing. And that means all of you,” he added, shouting at the rest.