Of Ash and Spirit

by D. B. West

  We sat in silence for several moments before Nana said, “Ignoring this won’t make it go away.”

  “I’m not delving into my father’s genealogy to prove we’re related to Ananias Dare, Nana,” I said, sounding defeated. “Do you know how absolutely crazy that is?”

  Resignation filled her eyes.

  “And I’m definitely not looking for evidence of some supernatural curse. Day job aside, you know I don’t believe in any of that nonsense.”

  But part of me was terrified to delve into it. I hated to think about it, let alone talk about it, but my father’s codicil had something to do with the Lost Colony of Roanoke, the greatest hoax in the twenty-first century.

  It had to be a hoax.

  She learned forward, her eyes bright with insistence. “Nor do I want you to, but all you have to do is provide evidence that you’re trying. If you can pretend to talk to ghosts, surely you can pretend to investigate something else supernatural.”

  I hopped up from my chair. “Commit fraud, you mean?”

  That stirred her up. “Aren’t you doing that very thing every time you walk into someone’s house and pretend you talk to the dead?”

  I gave her a wry grin. “And who’s to say I don’t?”

  Her voice softened. “Piper. I’m sure your mother was completely ignorant of your father’s schemes. Maybe we can use that to fight this.”

  “The partnership was in Dad’s name. Mom gave up her personal claim to the business when she quit to stay home with me.” I shook my head. “We’ve already been over this. It’s a waste of time.”

  Why was I being so hard on her? This wasn’t my grandmother’s fault. She was paying the price for my father’s lunacy too. “I’m sorry, Nana. I’m sorry I’m being so difficult.”

  Surprise filled her eyes. “Oh . . . so you’ll go back to law school?” she asked hopefully. “You only have one year left. Just finish and then at least you’ll have your degree, even if you don’t do anything with it.”

  “And get another student loan to finish a degree that I have no intention of using? You’re right, Gill took the last of my savings. The only regular income I have left is what little I make as a non-voting partner in Dad’s firm, and I’m about to give that up in two weeks.”

  She leaned forward, excited that I’d brought up the possibility. “Your grandfather and I could help with that. Or if you decide to go back to law school”—her mouth pinched—“you could sell the house and use the money to pay for the tuition.”

  It was killing her that I had dropped out, and not just because she was worried about my future. She hated admitting it to her country club friends that her only grandchild was a law school dropout known around Asheville as the “gentle ghost whisperer.” Especially since many of my clients were her so-called friends. But every penny I received from my grandmother came with a price too high to consider. She’d think she owned me, and I’d spent the last fifteen years rebelling against that very notion.

  “I’m not going back to law school. I’m grateful it’s over. Whether it was what he intended or not, Dad’s codicil gave me the permission to do something else.” I gave her a dry look. “Even if I haven’t figured out what that is yet.”

  A mischievous light filled her eyes. “I’m happy to hear you don’t plan to make ghost busting your permanent career.”

  “In the meantime, I think Hudson’s going to move in and pay me rent.”

  “Hudson Maine?” Her lips pursed. “What were his parents thinking when they named him? He sounds like he was named after a store downtown.”

  If she expected a reaction, she’d have to keep waiting. Her joke was almost as old as the classic why did the chicken cross the road. He’d been my best friend since sixth grade.

  “Well, at least it’s not that girl named after a peanut butter cup,” she added, looking slightly disappointed she hadn’t managed to get a rise out of me.

  I rolled my eyes. “What do you have against Rhys? And don’t you dare tell me it’s because she’s a lesbian.”

  A frown wrinkled her forehead. “I don’t care about that. It’s her other lifestyle choices I don’t approve of.”

  Most notably the hot pink streaks in her blond hair and her multiple piercings.

  “Pray tell why Hudson’s moving in. I thought he was living with the waitress. The one who tried to open her own bakery.”

  She clearly paid more attention to Hudson’s personal life than I’d realized. “He thinks the chef is cheating on him, so he’s going to stay here until he figures out where to go.”

  Her lips pursed. “I know times have changed, Piper, but don’t you think having a man living with you is going to hurt your chances at finding a suitable boyfriend?”

  “Any man worthy of my attention won’t care. And let’s be honest—you’ve never liked Hudson either.”

  She stood. “I don’t disapprove of Hudson. I just don’t understand how you can be best friends with a man you’re not romantically involved with, although thank God for small favors.”

  I gave her the evil eye. “You’re seriously trying to tell me you don’t disapprove of Hudson?”

  “I’ve made no attempt to hide the fact that I disapprove of Hudson because of his family.” She scowled. “His grandmother is a harpy who’s always made my life miserable. His mother isn’t much better. If you became romantically entangled with the boy, it would be a nightmare.”

  For you. “If we’re throwing around family misdeeds, then maybe we should toss the sins of my father into the mix,” I said, “which makes me a ne’er-do-well too, Nana.”

  Her face softened and she stepped toward me. “Piper, I will always love you, even if I’m astounded and perturbed by your life choices.”

  Her statement caught me off guard. That was the most affectionate statement she’d made to me since I was a little girl. Then she surprised me even more by leaning down and pulling me into an awkward hug. Since I couldn’t remember the last time she’d hugged me—or anyone else for that matter—I suspected she was rusty.

  “You’re not alone,” she said softly as her arms tightened around me. “I know we don’t always see eye to eye, but I love you.”

  “I love you too, Nana.” I kissed her cheek, then dropped my arms.

  Without another word, she went out the kitchen door. I watched her through the window over the sink, realizing she’d parked her car next to the detached garage, out of sight from my usual spot in the driveway. She’d obviously put some effort into her ambush. She probably figured I would have sooner pulled out of the driveway and left rather than face her. I wasn’t too proud to admit it wasn’t totally off-base.

  When I was a girl, Nana had been stiff and formal and undemonstrative with her affection, even after I moved in with her and my grandfather. She’d softened over the past fifteen years—how could she not when her ten-year-old granddaughter had woken up night after night with nightmares of her parents’ murders? But in my teen years, we’d had more arguments than I could count, and truth be told, Gill wasn’t the only one I enjoyed pissing off with my fledgling ghost-hunting business. But I knew Nana truly loved me and wanted the best for me, even if she and I didn’t always see eye to eye on what that actually was. Sometimes I needed to remind myself that her intentions were in the right place, even if her execution was poorly handled.

  I watched her turn around and pull out of the driveway, and shook off my funk. I had a big job ahead of me tonight, and I needed to prepare for the performance of my short career.

  Chapter Three

  Beaucatcher Mountain was really just a tall hill east of downtown. Evelyn Crawford’s house was on the east side of the mountain, about a quarter mile south of Helen’s Bridge and a half mile south of Zealandia Castle. The castle had been built in 1889, and the bridge was added in 1909 so guests could arrive in carriages. People supposedly saw a woman around the bridge, asking if people had seen her daughter. Urban legend said that Helen’s daughter had died in a fire. The locati
on and Helen’s relationship to Zealandia Castle changed depending on the storyteller—the fire was in the castle’s stable or in a room inside the castle itself. Some people said Helen was a servant at the castle, others said she’d been having an affair with the owner, and a few claimed she was married to him, but all the stories ended the same way—with Helen hanging herself from the bridge.

  A pretty solid story. Unfortunately, or fortunately if you lived there, what I’d told Rhys was true. All reports of her haunting had been tied to the bridge itself, never in the neighborhoods surrounding the bridge.

  The mountain roads were narrow, but the house had a long driveway, so I pulled up close to the house and parked off to the side, taking in the house. It had a wraparound porch and dormers. I checked my bag to make sure I had my sage sticks and a lighter, then got out of my car and smoothed my skirt. At Rhys’s strongly worded suggestion, I’d decided to dress up more for this case, but I’d drawn the line at heels, instead wearing a pair of Toms.

  The sun was setting behind the trees as I walked up toward the front door. The moment I stepped onto the porch, a strange feeling washed through me—something cold that snaked around my body, then just as quickly disappeared.

  What the crap was that?

  It was nerves and my imagination, still wound up from my strange experience this afternoon . . . and maybe a little bit the approaching dark. How ironic that the gentle ghost whisperer was afraid of things that go bump in the night.

  “Just get this over with,” I muttered under my breath. I forced myself to walk up to the front door and knock.

  A few seconds later, a woman answered. She was in her thirties and her dark hair was pulled up into a loose updo. Her skirt and pale pink blouse suggested she was still dressed for work.

  “Hi,” I said, holding out my hand. “I’m Piper Lancaster. You must be Evelyn.”

  Relief washed over her face and she grabbed my hand in both of hers. “Thank God. I’ve been here for less than ten minutes and I’m ready to burn the place down.”

  Oh crap.

  I forced a smile. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I’m here to help you with that.”

  “Burning the place down?”

  “If I do my job, it shouldn’t come to that.” I grinned, but it felt wobbly. “Why don’t you tell me a little more about what’s going on with your house.”

  “Well, like I said in my email, it all started about a month ago. It was little things at first. I heard creaks and groans in the house that I’d never noticed before. Manny had just moved out, so I figured it was my imagination, but about a week after it started, my friend Carla came over and she heard it too. By then it had turned into loud bangs.”

  “Where did it sound like it was coming from?” I asked.

  “The stairs. At least at first. Then all over and not just at night, although it’s always louder at night.”

  “You mentioned that objects had been moved. Like misplaced keys? Or glasses? Sometimes the spirits want us to know they’re around, so they move objects to garner our attention.”

  “Sure . . . ,” she said, drawing out the word. “At first. Now it’s bigger things.” She looked unsure of herself.

  I lifted my eyebrows, waiting for her to continue.

  “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

  “No, I won’t. I promise.” I gave her an encouraging smile. “That’s why I’m here, remember?”

  She started to answer, but the sound of a car engine behind me caught her attention and she moved closer to the porch rail, fury filling her eyes.

  I turned to see an ostentatious car pulling in behind mine, but it was the white van following it that set me on edge. If I hadn’t immediately recognized the van my money had bought, the name painted on the side would have jogged my memory:

  Gill Gillespie

  Paranormal Investigator

  We fight ghosts with science so you don’t have to.

  “What in the hell is he doing here?” Evelyn asked, sounding pissed.

  “What is he doing here?” I asked. A mixture of anger and anxiousness filled my gut. I hadn’t seen Gill face-to-face in almost four months. Not since he’d heard I was going to Alabama to film that appearance on Darling Investigations. He’d tried to weasel his way back into my life so he could go with me, and I’d shot him down in no uncertain terms.

  “You know my husband?” Evelyn asked in surprise.

  I glanced back at the car as the driver got out and made his way to the van. “No, but I know the person he hired to clear your house.”

  “What?” She stepped onto the porch and moved to the side to get a better view. “That dirty, rotten son of a bitch. I told him I had it covered.”

  Gill hopped out and a huge smile spread across his face when he saw me on the porch. There was no doubt that he was a very good-looking man. I was a sucker for the tall, dark, and handsome type, and he’d reeled me in the night I’d met him at a bar downtown. Those full lips had talked the sense right out of me. Though I was usually immune to such nonsense, he’d caught me at a vulnerable moment. I’d just left law school and had been unsure of myself.

  Tonight he was wearing jeans and a T-shirt that said Gill Gillespie, Head Paranormal Investigator.

  God forbid anyone should forget.

  The side door to the van opened, and his two friends—Ricky and Ethan—got out, hauling their equipment with them.

  “What do you think you’re doing, Manny?” Evelyn shouted at her husband.

  “I’m getting whatever’s in that goddamn house out,” he said in a hateful tone without bothering to even look at her.

  Turned out that Evelyn’s husband really was an asshole. But something else hit me too—this didn’t support my theory that he was gaslighting his wife. Why would he call Gill to ghost bust his house if he was behind all of the strange occurrences?

  “I thought you said I was crazy!” Evelyn shouted at her husband.

  “You are, but the realtor won’t list the house until I show proof that we had it exorcised. I couldn’t get a priest to do it, so I hired this guy.” He thumbed toward Gill and his crew.

  The realtor insisted on an exorcism?

  “You mean before she comes out to examine the property to list it?” I said loud enough for Manny to hear.

  “Hell, no,” he scoffed. “She was out here yesterday afternoon.” His eyes narrowed, and he held his hand up over his forehead like a visor, giving me his full attention. Anger washed over his face, and he shifted toward Evelyn. “We agreed to use Phyllis to list the property! You went and hired someone else behind my back?”

  Gill laughed as he walked toward Manny. He had a video camera in his hand and something hanging from his neck on a cord. Probably something expensive.

  “She’s not a realtor,” Gill said with an asshole grin. “She’s a . . . what are you these days, Piper? Other than a law school dropout?”

  I started to let loose an angry retort, but I had a reputation of being calm and gentle. I wasn’t about to blow it on this jackwipe. I gave him a warm smile even though I wanted to rip his face off. “Good to see you, Gill.” Then I glanced past him. “Hey, Ricky and Ethan.”

  Rhys and Hudson found it odd that I didn’t hold a grudge against Gill’s friends. I’d tried to explain to them that Gill had a way of suckering you into believing you were the most important person in the world . . . until he didn’t need you anymore. He’d gotten my money and hadn’t needed my “nagging,” so he’d moved on. But he still needed his two friends, and they thought he hung the moon. I’d fallen for his charm hook, line, and sinker. How could I blame them for doing the same?

  Ricky gave me a sheepish grin and lifted his hand slightly—strategically staying behind Gill’s back—and Ethan nodded while juggling a tripod and a laptop.

  I turned back to my nemesis. “Sorry you went to all the trouble of coming out here, Gill, but Evelyn already hired me to clean her house, so you can be on your way.” I resisted the urge to mak
e a shooing motion.

  Reputation, Piper. Look like the bigger person.

  I added a smile.

  Manny shook his head as he moved closer to the front steps. “Look, sweetheart, I know you think you’re trying to help, but you should just let the big boys handle it.”

  Oh, hell no, he didn’t . . .

  I stomped down the steps and into the yard, my eyebrows raised so high I was going to have to call air traffic control to get them clearance. “Sweetheart?”

  Gill laughed, then bumped his shoulder into Manny’s. “She hates being called sweetheart.”

  Manny pulled out his wallet and yanked out several bills. “I don’t know what Evelyn is payin’ you, but here, take a hundred dollars and call it good.”

  One hundred dollars? For not doing anything? But a hundred dollars wasn’t nearly enough for me to let Gill win. Besides, I’d decided I didn’t much care for this Manny.

  “Let’s get one thing clear, Mr. Crawford. Evelyn is the one who hired me, and she’s the one who decides when she’s done with my services.”

  “That’s right,” Evelyn shouted. “And I want her to stay. Delilah had great results after Piper walked through her house. Unlike that motley crew.” She motioned toward Gill.

  “Now, see here,” Gill said, a hint of anger in his voice. “I don’t know what you heard about us—”

  “I’ve heard about you, Piper Lancaster,” Manny said, cutting Gill off as he took a step closer to me. “I know you walk through a house and talk to the ghosts with nothing but a giant cigar.”

  “It’s a smudge stick,” I said.

  He continued as though he hadn’t heard me. “While these guys have a bunch of equipment to get the job done.”

  Gill snickered behind him.

  My anger was brewing, but I still kept my cool as I turned to Gill and said in a steely voice, “And Gill knows you can have all the equipment in the world, and sometimes it’s still not enough to get the job done.”

  Gill’s smile abruptly fell. “Are you trash-talking my junk?”