She traded a look with Daniel—understanding without words. He turned to stand watch. Victoria grabbed the handle, gave it a quick twist, and found it unlocked.
"Come on, let's go." She shoved it open, ducked inside, and Daniel followed her. She shut the door again, plunging them into darkness. Of course, her nocturnal vision compensated, so she could see just fine. The area wasn't totally dark—some light seeped in through high, narrow windows.
"Ah, I think I have a penlight somewhere." Daniel fumbled with his pockets. He bumped his elbow into her shoulder, muttered an apology, and kept searching.
Temptation pushed her tongue into her cheek. She came this close to lending him a hand with the pat down of his jeans. Propriety, however, got the better of her. They had higher priorities than a game of slap and tickle.
"Does this help?" Victoria allowed her eyes to shift fully to wolf so they cast a warm golden glow sufficient to illuminate the area.
"Yeah, thanks." He flashed a ready grin. "You're handier than a flashlight."
She snorted. "Gee, thanks. You know just what to say to flatter a girl."
"You're brilliant."
"Oh, a witty pundit..." She groaned and took the lead along the hallway. Her altered vision lit the way. She passed a light switch without flipping it because she preferred not to risk attracting any attention to their trespass.
"So are you gonna tell me where we're going?"
"Yes. In the 1920s, the Hermosa Inn had a speakeasy located in the basement. The bellhop told me there's a secret tunnel in the basement that leads to the—"
He snapped his fingers. "The Longhorn Saloon."
"Correct." She grinned, glancing over her shoulder.
Within a minute, they located the door leading to the basement—it was locked. Without being asked, Daniel extracted his lock picks and set to work. To Victoria's amusement, he got it open a lot faster than the electronic lock from earlier—a good thing because the prospect of getting caught caused her nothing but anxiety. She just wasn't cut out for life as a criminal.
"Second time's the charm?" Victoria quipped when the tumblers rolled.
He grunted, less than amused. "I don't have as much experience with electronic locks."
"Because that's not covered in cop school?" She poked him in the side and followed right on his heels.
"Not so much." Daniel chuckled and pushed the reinforced steel fire door open. Victoria slipped past him and headed down. Her glowing eyes once again lit the way.
"So spill... what's up?" Daniel's voice echoed as did their footsteps. "Why are we heading to the Inn's basement? I expect you weren't overcome by a burning desire to check out the old speakeasy."
"Not quite." Chuckling, she launched into a quick explanation. "Before you were attacked, I spoke with Charity Briggs out on the balcony."
"Yeah? That's great. What'd she say?"
She paused on the turn, midway down. The explanation would take a minute. She preferred to provide it all upfront even if it meant stopping for a second. "Charity believes her husband's soul is trapped somewhere inside the hotel. She says she can feel Joseph. She's searched but hasn't been able to find him. She also identified the murderer of both herself and her husband as Sebastian Greer, the original hotel manager."
"Sebastian Greer died in a hotel fire," Daniel mused. "He was the thing that attacked us?"
"His soul became a wight—the smoldering spirit." Victoria summarized her conversation with Charity, electing to leave a great deal out because they were pressed for time. Later, after this was all over, she would provide him with an exact accounting of the details.
Daniel construed his own conclusion. "So you think Greer killed Joseph and hid his body somewhere in the basement?"
"Yeah, I do—probably sealed up inside the walls or the foundation since it was never found. Remember that spirit I observed trapped within the lobby wall?"
"That was Joseph?"
Victoria bobbed her head. "I believe he needs our help—that he's reaching out for it but he's unable to manifest entirely on the ground level. Meanwhile, Charity's been searching for her husband's soul for decades but she can't find him because she can't descend past the lobby."
"Their souls have been separated by a single story for almost a century?"
"And by Greer's wight," Victoria added, determined to assign blame where it was due. She derived vicious satisfaction from the knowledge that the bastard's soul had been destroyed. He'd never hurt anyone ever again.
"Man, that's fucked up." Daniel looked as though he'd been floored by the revelation.
"Did you know Charity was a hunter too?"
His brow knit and he hesitated. "No, no idea. I'll ask my father about it when I get a chance."
She nodded, satisfied with his answer. "I'm hoping when we free Joseph's spirit, he can tell us the location of the lost gold mine. C'mon, let's get moving. Mac Guffin isn't going to save himself."
Victoria took the last steps with the hunter hot on her heels. It took some searching but eventually they located the entryway to the old tunnel along the foundation wall facing the Hermosa Inn. Daniel scrounged a crowbar which he used to pry off the boards. The rusted hinges stuck. He put his shoulder against it and forced it open wide enough to allow them to pass. She slipped through the narrow opening easily but he had to turn sideways to squeeze his broad shoulders through. He brought the crowbar along—no doubt a smart precaution.
The tunnel on the other side was cool and pitch black—a narrow concrete corridor with a low ceiling that forced Daniel to stoop. Once again, her eyes cast the glow that served as their only illumination, but even with that they could only see a few feet ahead. Victoria hovered close to Daniel's side while they advanced. The attack in the hotel room had left her on edge and feeling protective—maybe even overprotective—of the man she'd come to regard as her hunting partner. The attitude was dangerously close to pack mentality—she'd have to watch that.
"I expected it to smell worse," Daniel said.
"So did I." She sniffed and inhaled dust. A sharp sneeze tore from her. At least she didn't detect any vermin or mold.
"It's been sealed up on both sides for a long time."
It took less than a minute to reach the other side of the tunnel. They encountered another entrance, presumably leading to the basement of the Hermosa Inn. She stood guard while Daniel pried the door open. This time, at least, it wasn't boarded shut on the inside. Here, the hallway widened and the ceiling height rose—the dustiness decreased too. The janitorial staff maintained a commendable level of cleanliness. Oh, and it kept getting better—they came across a light switch on the wall. Victoria swatted it—ceiling mounted lights came on.
"Sweet. How do you intend to figure out where the body is hidden?" Daniel asked. "I've worked with cadaver dogs, but Joseph has been dead for decades..."
"Are you calling me a dog?" Victoria endeavored to sound deliberately snappy.
"Uh." He gave a guilty start and glanced at her face. As soon as he took in her wicked smile, he lapsed into a double take. Snickering, he said, "Very funny."
She grinned. "My nose is good but nowhere close to a cadaver dog's."
"No?" He looked askance at her, clearly doubtful.
"No." She offered the affirmation, one hundred percent serious. Domesticated dogs actually possessed superior olfactory abilities to wolves—canines having been bred for it. Oh, her sense of smell far surpassed that of any human, but she couldn't have given the average bloodhound a run for the money. It didn't matter—her plan for locating the site of Joseph's grave had nothing to do with any of the five mundane senses.
"Huh." He gave the distinct impression of filing away the information for future use. After a delay, he asked, "What's the plan?"
"Joseph's been trying to reach out to me since we arrived. Hopefully, now that Greer's out of the picture, he'll be able to break through." Victoria closed her eyes and focused on opening her inner eye so she could peer into the Shadowlands.
While she always had some awareness of the spiritual plane—particularly auras—it operated in degrees.
"So we're gonna let him find us? I hope he's in a congenial mood." Daniel grumbled, and his underlying scent remained tart with uneasiness.
"Me too." Worry ate at her also to a lesser extent, but she hadn't forgotten Macan. When she opened her eyes, she perceived more of the otherworld than the physical. Cupping her hands to her mouth, she called, "Joseph! It's all right to come out now. Sebastian Greer is gone..."
She advanced along the hall, watching for any spiritual activity along the walls, and Daniel came with her. They progressed as a team—side by side. Her position allowed her to guard against any incoming threats from the left while he parried to the right. If attacked from two sides, they could shift stances so they were back to back. Every thirty feet, Victoria repeated her summons. Still, long minutes dragged past without anything to show for their efforts. Patience wasn't her strong suit—never had been. Frustration rumbled in her throat.
"Easy." Daniel's deep blue nimbus washed over her—cool and comforting as the ocean. He centered her.
She glanced over, opening her mouth to speak when the wall beside her rippled and bubbled. A hand sprouted toward her, supported on a thin arm stalk. With an exclamation, Victoria jerked toward it.
Daniel mirrored her motion. "What is it?"
"I think we've found Joseph." Or, more accurately, Joseph had found them. She refrained from grabbing the ghost's arm. Spirits were notoriously skittish—sudden movement might startle him into vanishing.
Where the arm joined the wall, the smooth gray surface ballooned outward, and became two distinct lumps—his head and other hand. His face resembled that of a mannequin, mouth open wide in a perpetual silent scream. A man trapped beneath a sheet except his prison was constructed of concrete.
"That's it. Let me help you." Cautiously, Victoria reached for his hand. Just before their fingertips touched, the spirit's entire body thinned and quivered like a rubber band strained to its breaking point. Quicksilver swift, he snapped back into the wall and vanished.
"No!" Victoria lunged, but her palms smacked against the solid surface. She pounded it with her fists. "Damn it! Come back."
"Victoria?" Daniel touched her shoulder.
"What?" The inquiry burst from her, rude and abrupt, a measure of her immense frustration. She remained faced away from him.
"Look."
She turned—stopped. Her lips parted in sheer surprise. Charity Briggs stood at the end of the hallway, as solid as could be. She wore her bright red cloche hat and summer dress, looking as though she'd stepped straight out of a 1920s’ fashion magazine.
"Now that Greer is gone, I'm finally able to enter the basement," Charity explained in answer to Victoria's unvoiced question.
"How is it I can see her?" Daniel asked from the side of his mouth.
"I don't know." Victoria shook her head—it didn't matter. The fact that he could was remarkable enough. "Maybe because it's Winter Nights—All Hallow's Eve? The veil is at its thinnest. Spirits are often able to cross over."
He grunted, signaling acceptance.
Charity turned away and addressed them over her shoulder. "I know where Joseph is trapped. Follow me."
Daniel and Victoria traded a quick glance—agreement resonated between them. They chased after Charity, fast at first, but then slowing once they'd caught up. The spirit led them down the hallway, around a corner, and then walked straight through a closed door.
Victoria grabbed the knob and said a silent prayer of thanks to find it unlocked. They entered an immense room that housed the hotel's central heating and air conditioning. Just past the entryway, they paused to get oriented.
"Over here." Charity's voice carried from somewhere beyond the furnace. They circled and found the ghost standing along the far wall before a charred section of concrete three feet in diameter. The blackened swath pulsated and festered, oozing discolored pus.
"Do you see that?" Victoria pointed.
"See what?" Daniel asked in a pinched-brow voice.
Victoria forced her vision back to the material plane. As she suspected, the wall was smooth and unblemished. Daniel couldn't perceive the phenomenon because it existed only in the Shadowlands. Blinking restored her second sight. She stepped up to the wall and placed her hand over the discoloration.
"We want to dig here."
"Give me some space." Daniel stepped up, hefting the crowbar into position. His biceps bulged, forearms rippled, the clean play of sinew beneath his tanned skin.
"Okay." Nodding, Victoria stepped aside. Of course, she could have utilized her claws to rip into the concrete, but the area was too small for both of them to work safely. Ultimately, the metal bar was the superior tool for the job. Besides, laziness suited her mood. The fight against the wight had worn her out. Let Daniel do some of the heavy lifting this time.
With a grunt of exertion, Daniel swung the crowbar, a stroke that embedded the pronged end deep in the concrete. The blow sent up a fine dust and a spray of pebbles. When he yanked the bar free, larger chunks of rubble tumbled to the floor. He set a hard, steady rhythm, toiling at the task.
Charity pressed a clenched fist to her mouth and sank her teeth into her finger. She trembled, and anxiety rolled off her in waves.
"It's going to be okay. Just a few more minutes and you'll be reunited with your husband." Seeking to comfort the other woman, Victoria reached over and took Charity's hand. The spirit glanced at her in clear surprise but didn't withdraw.
"It's just been so long... I can't believe it's finally over. We're going to be together again at last." Teary-eyed, Charity sniffled and tightened her grip on Victoria's hand.
The two women stood together while Daniel worked. A slick sheen of sweat shone on his skin. He widened the hole to about two feet across, and then he focused on deepening it. Debris formed a pile on the floor. On a final swing, the sound of the strike changed—a dull, hollow impact—and over half the crowbar sank into the opening.
Changing his grip on the handle, Daniel hauled back on the crowbar and extracted it amid a shower of rubble. He dropped the tool to the floor where it landed with a clatter. Still breathing hard, he rested his hand alongside the hole and stared inside.
"What do you see?" An excited quiver shot through Victoria and she released Charity's hand. It required all her self-control not to rush closer for a better look.
"It's dark—I can't see anything." He squinted and cocked his head while he performed a pat down of his pants.
"Let me." Unable to stand it any longer, Victoria pressed closer. Daniel yielded, stepping aside so she had a clear view. As he'd said, it was dark. She caught a charcoal scent that reminded her of an old fire pit.
"Here." Daniel produced the elusive pen light he'd been unable to locate earlier. He passed it to Victoria over her shoulder.
"Thanks. I think I see something." She aimed the beam of light into the interior, illuminating what she thought was a burnt board. She reached in to remove it, but then her mind connected the dots. That wasn't a piece of wood, but rather a charred bone. Hastily, she jerked her arm back.
Something moved inside the wall.
"Charity." Victoria beckoned for the spirit.
"What can I do?" Charity hurried closer and gazed through the pit. A cry fell from her lips. Without waiting for instructions, she walked into the wall—the front half of her body vanished into the concrete. When she stepped back, Charity drew a man—presumably Joseph—along with her. The couple was locked in a lover's embrace, a passionate kiss that went on and on.
At first, a stupid smile overtook Victoria. She indulged the exhilaration—stealing a glance at Daniel, she found the hunter grinning like mad. He caught her looking at him. Their gazes locked and the triumph became theirs. Together, they'd accomplished this amazing thing—tormented lovers separated by centuries, reunited at last. When he raised his arm in an unspoken invitation, she pressed close to his
side, and he wrapped his hand around her waist. They leaned into each other.
Epiphany struck her. Victoria's eyes widened. "You can see him?"
Daniel's face slackened as the realization came to him. Surprise spiked his voice. "Yeah, I do. How is that possible?"
She shook her head, unable to provide answers. The sudden appearance of a brilliant ball of white light spared her the necessity. The spiritual portal appeared directly over the ghostly couple. The gateway rotated and cast dancing rays upon the lovers. It emanated joy and welcome.
Charity broke the kiss. She cupped her husband's face and drew back. "Joseph, my love," she said with tears streaming down her cheeks. "I've missed you so much."
"I'm so sorry. I tried to get back to you but I couldn't—" The frantic apology tumbled from Joseph. He was a fine-looking young man, with sandy brown hair and freckles. He wore a flashy necktie, a cream-colored Homberg hat, and a dapper dark tan suit with pink striping. Joseph lacked the solid definition that Charity possessed. Studying them, Victoria concluded that Joseph was only visible to Daniel while the husband and wife were touching—deriving his substance from her.
"Shh..." Charity shushed him. "It's all right. We're together now. That's what matters."
"I heard you crying—calling to me." Joseph stole another kiss and only Charity's efforts kept it from turning into another long embrace.
"I always knew you hadn't left me willingly. I waited for you." Charity glanced over at Victoria. The spirit's brow pinched with puzzlement. Her lips pursed and she returned her regard to her husband.
"I love you. I love you so much," Joseph declared and at last Victoria concluded that he wasn't even aware of his silent audience.
"I love you too, but the bank's closed." Charity averted yet another amorous advance from her spouse. "We've got to go."
"Go where?" Joseph asked, clearly confused.
The gateway wobbled on its axis, scattering a spray of bright light everywhere—more disco ball than spiritual portal in its bearing. Victoria worried about Charity and Joseph being snatched up and whisked away before the all-important question could be posed. Daniel's arm tightened around her—he shared her concern.
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