Grave Threat

by Lori Drake

  “You think she was an astral walker. And that’s her journal!” Chris could barely contain his excitement.

  “Mmmhmm. The unfortunate thing is, it’s in Russian.”

  “So, we need to find someone who can speak Russian. I take it Trubnikova’s descendant doesn’t?”

  “No. But we not only need someone who can speak Russian, we need someone we can trust with your secret.”

  “That certainly narrows it down.” Chris sighed and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “One step forward, two steps back.” He felt her eyes on him and looked down. “What?”

  “There is someone, you know…”

  “Don’t say it.”

  “Your mother.”

  Chris rubbed his temples. What could possibly be more awkward or uncomfortable than going to Mom for help when she’s barely speaking to me?

  Cathy’s hand caught his, and a light squeeze brought him back to the present. “I know things have been awkward with you and Addie. I won’t presume to know why, but don’t ever doubt that she loves you. She’d do anything for you. This… this is nothing.”

  Chris bent and pressed a kiss to the top of Cathy’s silvery head. “I love her too. But it might be better if you—”

  She closed the book and poked him in the stomach with it.

  He grimaced, but took it. “Okay, okay. I can take a hint.”

  He didn’t linger long after that, ducking out to give Cathy a chance to rest. He was halfway across the front yard when his phone rang. The caller ID read “Unknown,” but he answered it anyway. There was a time in the not-distant past when he would’ve automatically hung up on any call claiming to be from a prison inmate. These days, there was always a chance it could be Emma, so Chris accepted the call even though it was outside her usual schedule.

  “Hello?” The timid voice on the other end was unmistakable.

  “Hey, Em, what’s up? Had enough massages and golf for one day?” Chris asked, opening the car door and slipping behind the wheel. He started the car to get the heat going, but let the engine idle. Emma was in a minimum-security facility, and while he knew it was far from a holiday, joking about it helped ease his guilt over her being in there at all.

  “Chris!” The relief in her voice was obvious, even long distance. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” A knot of dread formed in his stomach.

  “Listen, I don’t have much time,” Emma said urgently. “He found me.”

  Chris frowned, tossing the old journal lightly into the passenger’s seat. “We figured he would. But you should be safe. You’re in prison. There are guards everywhere, right?”

  Emma had run afoul of her old coven-gone-cult leader when she stole five grand from him and disappeared. He’d been willing to go to some pretty extreme lengths to collect both her and the money, but Chris and Joey had foiled his plan.

  “It doesn’t matter. God, I was stupid to think it would…”

  “Emma, take a deep breath and—”

  “Shut up and listen!”

  It wasn’t like Emma to be so assertive. Chris shut up, and he listened.

  “You’re in danger. Joey too. Don’t trust anyone. Do you understand?”

  “Emma, I—”

  “Chris! Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I understand. I mean, I don’t know what happened or what’s going on, but I get what you’re saying.”

  “Get out of town if you can. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Emma, wait—”

  “I’m sorry, I have to go.”

  “Wait! What’s going on, what—”

  The phone beeped, signaling the end of the call. Chris stared at it in confusion, then sighed and snapped it into the dashboard mount. He voice-dialed Joey before pulling away from the curb, but she didn’t answer. He considered leaving a message, but Emma was jumpy when it came to her former master. It was entirely possible that she was just being paranoid.

  Chris decided to talk to Joey about it when she came over later. Still, Emma’s warning stuck with him long after he hung up. While part of him just wanted to be left alone now that his life had settled into something resembling normal, another part of him hoped that the guy would make a move. As far as he was concerned, they were anything but even.

  2

  Joey poked her head into the study and rapped lightly on the open door. “Hey, Mom, you ready for me?”

  Adelaide didn’t look up from whatever it was she was writing. “You’re late.”

  “I stopped for a glass of water. Sue me.” Joey sauntered across the room and dropped into one of the chairs that faced the desk. Adelaide had settled into her new study rather nicely in the weeks since her arrival. It had a different flair from the one she’d maintained at the house in San Diego, and well it should. All the furniture was new. She simply hadn’t seen the need to pack and move all of the furniture in California. The house would remain as it was, ready to move in again whenever they needed it.

  Joey’s suggestion to rent the house out had been quickly dismissed. In light of what had happened with Chris’s house, Adelaide was reassessing all of their rental properties. Besides, it was difficult to find a proper tenant for a multimillion-dollar house. Anyone who could afford to lease it could easily afford to buy one of their own.

  Joey sat quietly for a time, then offered, “Chris says hi.”

  Adelaide’s writing paused, then resumed. “Is he coming to dinner tomorrow?”

  Joey smirked. “Yes.”

  As if she could hear the expression in her daughter’s voice, Adelaide looked up. Joey took a hasty sip of water. Her mother gazed at her in lingering, narrow-eyed scrutiny, then capped her fountain pen.

  “How is he?” Adelaide asked.

  Joey shrugged a shoulder. “Good as can be expected. He’s got a lot on his plate right now.”

  “I’m sure he does.”

  “You should see him with his people. He’s a natural, Mom.”

  “I’m sure he is.”

  This was going nowhere fast. Joey suppressed a sigh. “What’s eating you? Is it him and me, you know, together? I thought you’d be happy about that.”

  Adelaide set aside her pen and laced her fingers together. “Not everything is about you, Josephine.”

  Joey frowned. “That’s not what I— You know, forget it. Can we get started?”

  “Mmm, yes. How is your research into the Eastgate coven going?”

  “Good, if slowly. Sam’s been a lot of help, though. I think this PI thing is going to work out for him.” Joey shifted in her seat, fishing her phone out of her pocket and unlocking it to thumb through her notes. “The land is registered to a corporation: Third Eye, LLC. The managing member is Marcus Madrigal—that’s the name Emma gave us for the coven leader, too. We’re trying to get in touch with local law enforcement to find out if there’s a history of problems with the coven, but Eastgate is an unincorporated community, so there’s no police department. Sam’s got a call in to the Churchill County sheriff’s office. He’s hoping his PI license will open some doors.”

  “Interesting.”

  “If you say so. I’ve been trying to make contact with the other runaway Emma told us about, but the email address she gave me is bouncing. I’m hoping to talk to Emma about it the next time she calls. In the meantime, Sam’s helping me run a background check on Madrigal to see what else we can find out about him and his operation.”

  Adelaide nodded. “It sounds like you’re making some progress. That’s good. Knowledge is power. The more we know about this man, the better off we’ll be. Anything else?”

  “Not right now. Give me a couple days. Hopefully I’ll have more. Did you have a chance to look up packs in the area?” Joey wasn’t sure exactly what information was contained in Adelaide’s mysterious database, or how she’d managed to get something as sophisticated as a database set up. Joey had only just found out about it a few days ago.

  “Yes.” Adelaide drew the keyboard on her des
k closer and poked a key. She eyed the screen with lips pursed when nothing happened.

  Joey leaned over wordlessly and pushed the power button on the monitor. The screen came to life with a quiet buzz.

  “Thank you,” Adelaide murmured, and tapped a few more keys, hunt-and-peck style. “The closest pack is the Silver Springs pack, but they’re about eighty miles away.”

  “That’s pretty far.” Joey looked out the window. “But they might have dealt with the coven before. It can’t hurt to reach out to them. Do you want to do that, or should I?”

  “I’ll take care of it.” Adelaide pushed the keyboard away again. “How is your training coming along?”

  “Sam says I’m doing great.” Never mind that between mornings at the gym with Sam and afternoons in the studio with Chris, Joey was burning the candle at both ends.

  Rising from her seat, Adelaide nodded once more. “I’ll have to stop by and see you in action soon. In the meantime, how about another form of exercise?”

  Joey glanced in the direction of her mother’s hand gesture and groaned. “Chess again? I hate chess.”

  Ignoring her protest, Adelaide crossed to the chessboard and settled into one of the leather-upholstered armchairs that flanked it. Joey sighed and joined her. Once they were both settled, Adelaide gestured for Joey to make the first move. Joey grabbed a pawn and moved it forward, then settled back and folded her arms to wait while her mother studied the board. As if the first move really required that much careful consideration.

  They played in silence for the better part of an hour. Despite her disinterest in the game, Joey had played enough that she wasn’t awful at it. Not good enough to beat her mother, but good enough to make her work for it. Which Joey did, not to be contrary but because her competitive nature wouldn’t be satisfied otherwise.

  In the end, she still didn’t see defeat coming.

  “Checkmate,” Adelaide said.

  Joey stared at the board in disbelief. “No way.”

  Adelaide sat back in her chair and steepled her fingers. “See for yourself.”

  Joey studied the board, going over the last few moves in her head to discover she’d fallen right into the trap her mother had set for her. She swiped her king from the board and leaned back with a scowl. “How’d you do that?”

  “It’s not enough to know how to play the game,” Adelaide said. “A true master anticipates their opponent’s moves and counters them before she makes them.”

  Joey snorted. “A true master, eh? Thank god you’re not full of yourself or anything.” Adelaide arched a brow, and Joey coughed, leaning forward to return the heavy marble chess piece to the board. Then she began moving the pieces back to their starting positions.

  “That’s enough for today,” Adelaide said. “Will you be staying for dinner tonight?”

  Joey finished resetting the board and stood. “Yeah, I told Chris I’d come over later, but there’s no rush.” Chris’s house was in such dusty disarray with all the remodeling going on that she could barely suppress the urge to clean up whenever she was there. She didn’t want to show up until it was dark enough to ignore most of the grime. At least Chris’s bedroom was clean. Cluttered, but clean. The thought of being in his bedroom later—more specifically, in his bed—set her pulse racing.

  She pushed the thought aside and focused on getting out of the room before Adelaide changed her mind about another game. Her eyes found her mother staring out the window, expression thoughtful.

  “Everything okay, Mom?”

  “Hmm?” Adelaide looked at her after a pregnant pause, as if it took a moment for the words to penetrate her thoughts. “Yes, fine, dear. I’ll see you at dinner.”

  Although skeptical, Joey didn’t push further. As she headed for the door with her now-empty glass in hand, she slipped her phone from her pocket. It’d vibrated a couple of times during her meeting with her mother, but she knew better than to check it until the meeting was done. There were two missed calls, one from Sam and one from Chris. Neither had left a voicemail, so it couldn’t have been important. No matter. She’d see them both soon enough.

  The roof was, thankfully, still on Chris’s house when he got home. Restoring the house had finally given him a reason to tap into the trust his birth parents had left him, but it wasn’t a limitless resource. The renovations were costing him a small fortune, and a roof replacement wasn’t in the budget.

  The work crew had already wrapped up and gone home for the day when he pulled up the drive. He parked behind Dean’s Harley rather than box someone else in. If he needed to, Dean could wheel the bike around his car, but Chris doubted the medium would be going anywhere else tonight. For a tourist, Dean was kind of a homebody.

  “Hey, Roger, get someone to open the door,” Chris called on his way up the front steps with his hands full of pizza boxes and a sack of sodas. He stuck to the left side of the steps, since they seemed more stable there than on the right. At some point he was going to have to do something—or have something done—about that too, but it wasn’t as high on the list as mold remediation, drywall, and flooring.

  He didn’t actually expect any help from the ghost, so the door opening was a pleasant surprise.

  “Hey, boss,” Jessica said, then grinned and called over her shoulder, “Soup’s on!”

  Adam appeared in the doorway in a flash. “Need some help?” He took the topmost pizza box and disappeared back inside.

  Chuckling, Chris went inside and set everything down on the coffee table. From his seat on the sofa, Dean met his eyes and nodded a greeting. Adam already had his nose in the box he’d claimed.

  “This one has green stuff on it,” Adam said, grimacing.

  “Mine!” Lucy made grabby hands, and Adam held the box out to her. Lucy snagged a slice and left her brother holding the box.

  “Sorry, bud. You had a one in four chance of getting the veggie one,” Chris said, swapping the box in Adam’s hands for one of the others.

  “I’ll get the china,” Jessica said, on her way to the kitchen.

  “Cups too, please!” Lucy called after her.

  Chris grabbed himself a slice and flopped in the threadbare armchair. He hadn’t bothered covering any of the furniture he was planning to replace once the work was done. He was three bites in when Jessica returned with plates, cups, and napkins. They’d been eating with disposable everything ever since the kitchen had been torn apart last week. Cooking was out of the question if it required anything more than the microwave. Still, even the prospect of a home-cooked meal wasn’t enough to make him look forward to the upcoming dinner with his family.

  “Jenny’s not home yet?” Chris asked, fighting off probably unwarranted concern.

  “She’s going to a party on campus tonight,” Lucy said. She pinched off a bit of cheese and pizza toppings with her fingers, leaving the crust behind. “Colt’s picking her up after work.”

  Poor Colt had been burning the midnight oil for a week, and Chris supposed it was liable to continue until mid-April. He was an accountant, and it was tax season. Nothing to be done.

  “How’d it go with Roger?” Chris asked Dean. “Did you tell everyone about Cathy’s breakthrough?”

  “Breakthrough?” Jessica said. She’d settled on the floor at the foot of the coffee table once everyone had a plate and a drink.

  “It could’ve been better, and no,” Dean said. “But I guess the cat’s out of the bag now.” He explained about the charm Cathy had created earlier and their need to test it to make sure it worked.

  “But Roger doesn’t want to help?” Jessica asked, tilting her head.

  “He’s reluctant. But I think I can talk him into it.” Dean paused, glancing to the left of the couch. “I know you’re right there. I’m not blind.”

  Adam scooted a little closer to Lucy on the couch. Of all of them, Adam was the wariest of Roger still hanging around. Probably because the ghost had actively tried to kill him—twice—before they reached their current arrangement.<
br />
  “I know it’s not polite to talk about you like you’re not there,” Dean continued. “Is there anything you want to contribute?” He paused. “Anything constructive?”

  Chris couldn’t quite suppress a quiet snort. He sipped his cola in an effort to cover it, but Lucy caught his eye and winked. He winked back, then turned his attention to Dean. “Tell him if he cooperates, I’ll help him look for Eric.”

  Brows lifted around the room, but no one uttered a word in protest.

  Dean was quiet too, at least for a moment. Then he said, “He says that’s not enough.”

  Chris took another bite of pizza and chewed thoughtfully. He could compel Roger to help by threatening to dispose of his ashes once and for all, but that wasn’t who he was. Those ashes were to keep Roger on the leash, not for blackmail. What else could he do? He wouldn’t help Roger kill Eric. Helping him find Eric was compromising enough.

  “What do you want, Roger?” Chris asked. “Throw me a bone.”

  Dean rolled his eyes. “He thinks that’s funny. A wolf asking for a bone.”

  Lucy giggled, earning a scandalized glance from her brother.

  Chris smirked. “Be that as it may…”

  “He wants a slice of pizza,” Dean said.

  Chris blinked. “What? How am I supposed to…”

  “He wants to possess someone and eat a slice of pizza,” Dean clarified. A memory flashed through Chris’s mind, of possessing Dean and hitting a food truck for a burrito. His cheeks heated.

  “I’ll do it,” Jessica said.

  “Are you sure, Jess?” Chris asked, studying her. He certainly wasn’t itching to let Roger take him over—again. But he suspected Jessica’s willingness had more to do with making up for past errors in judgment than anything else. “You don’t have to.”

  She shrugged. “Let’s do it.”

  Before Chris could make up his mind if it was a good idea or not, Jessica’s chin dipped, then came up sharply. Her spine straightened and she looked down at the half-eaten slice of pizza on her plate before leaning over to claim a fresh one from the open box on the table.