"Yeah! Oh, my God!" she said. "I don't believe it! I felt so…so peculiar, it was like I couldn't help it. I'd never have done anything like this if I'd been in control of myself." She took a deep breath. "You can let go of my arm now. It's hurting, and I promise I won't attack you again."
He released his hold and stepped back from her. She remained facing away from him, rubbing her arm where he'd twisted it, her head tilted to one side. He couldn't see her face, but with his altered perceptions he could sense the embarrassment emanating from her.
Ruefully, he took the moment to admire her body. Her back was a classic cello shape, from her broad shoulders down her back with its trim muscles moving under her flawless white skin as she rubbed her arm. His gaze moved lower, to her tight butt and shapely thighs. Claudia was taller, but had the same sweet lines to her body as Caroline.
"You're looking at me, aren't you?" she said.
He felt his face grow warm, and he cleared his throat. "Yes; yes, I am." He coughed. "Sorry, I can't help it. You have a beautiful figure, Caroline; but I say that as a friend."
"As a friend," she repeated, and chuckled. "There're plenty of guys out there who want to be more than just friends with me, but I'm not interested in them. You're the only man I've ever thrown myself at, and you're the only one who really does want to be my friend! Guess I'm luckier than I dared hope," she added.
He thought of what could have happened with anyone else and nodded. "Yes. Caroline, I think you'd better go and get dressed."
She rubbed both her arms and shivered. "Okay. I'm beginning to feel cold now. Will you do me a favor?"
"Anything except make love to you!" he said, attempting to lighten the atmosphere.
She chuckled and glanced over her shoulder at him. "Will you turn around and look the other way, please? I know you've just seen everything I've got, but that was when I was acting crazy."
"Certainly." He turned and faced the wall. "There; I'm not looking."
He heard the scuff of her feet on the carpet come close, and the soft brush of her hand on his shoulder. "Thanks, Martin."
* * * *
He brewed fresh, hot coffee, sweet with creamer as she liked it, and she flashed him a grateful smile when she returned from the bathroom, dressed and decent once more. She accepted the mug and cradled it in her hands as she sipped it. "I can see you're feeling better already," he said with a smile.
She blushed and looked away. "I am, and I'm grateful to you."
"My pleasure. Here," he said, holding out his closed hand.
She set down her mug and held her cupped hands beneath his, and he dropped a pendant into them. Caroline stared at the disc. "It's got a pentacle on it!" she exclaimed.
"It's a protective amulet, and the pentacle has nothing to do with evil. It's the sign of the sacred feminine. Wear it at all times whilst this case is under way and it'll prevent anything like—ah—what happened from happening again."
"Thank you!" She unclipped the clasp and held it up, dangling the disc from its chain. "Would you put it on for me?"
"Sure," he said, and she turned. He couldn't help but touch her neck as he secured the chain around it. Her skin was soft and downy and so very kissable; taking a deep breath, he patted her shoulder and stepped back. "There."
"Thanks." She turned back to face him and picked up her coffee. "I feel so much safer now."
"I'm surprised the evil made a play for you," he said. "Not to inflate your ego, Caroline, but you're one of the sweetest-natured people I know."
"Oh, Marty, you don't know what it's like to be me," she said. "You're not the first one to call me an angel, and I think I lead a good life. I sure try." She tucked a stray strand of hair back over her ear and blushed. The silver ring glinted on her finger. "Even so, there're times when I want to cut loose!"
"I know what you mean." As he spoke, he laid his hand upon her shoulder and imbued her with some of his power. He added a psychic trip-wire, set to alert him the moment anything tried to possess her. "You'll be safe from malign influences now."
She stood on tiptoe and pecked him on the cheek. "Thanks, Martin. I feel so much better now." Her eyes were troubled. "Are you going to tell Claudia about what happened?"
He took a deep breath and exhaled, long and slow. "Caroline, I've got to; it's a matter of trust between me and her." He spread his hands. "We've known each other only a matter of weeks, but we've been through a lot together. I do know I want to spend the rest of my life with your sister, and for that to happen, there's got to be trust."
"Yes, I see." She glanced at her watch, set aside her mug, and then stood up. "I'd better go."
He saw her out to her car, and watched, shivering in the cold, as she drove away. "I just hope Claudia understands," he said to himself.
Turning to go indoors, he glanced up at the apartment above. No lights showed, but for a moment he thought he saw a pale face in the window.
* * * *
John Burwell relaxed as the Great Brother summed up the details of the meeting in his deep, sonorous voice. The evening ritual had taken his mind off the hospital and its affairs and crises. The chapter members had hung up their aprons, folded their paper carpenters' hats, and placed them in the bin; now the monthly meeting was drawing to a close, the dilatory proceeds serving to complete the unwinding process.
"…And that closes the proceedings. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen." The Great Brother banged the small, mallet-shaped gavel, and the members all rose as one with a clear sense of relief.
As they gathered in small groups to talk, John's neighbor at the table clapped him on the shoulder. "How's it going at that nut-hatch of yours, John?"
"We've always room for one more patient, Frank, if you feel like wandering along," he replied without malice. It was a game he and Frank Polson played nearly every time they met.
Polson's smile slipped and he looked grave. "I heard you had more trouble over there yesterday."
Burwell felt uneasy. Polson was quite high up in the hierarchy of the health department; so high in fact he should've been well above the grind of daily affairs. It didn't bode well for him to take an interest in the trouble they were having. "One of our patients had a relapse," he said cautiously. "It happens."
"But you were going to discharge the guy."
"Uh huh."
Frank leaned closer, something John wished he hadn't done; there were camels with sweeter breath than Frank Polson. "John, I know there's talk of a ghost haunting Daniels LaRoche. It's something I'm interested in, so I set a watching brief on everything that comes out of there. Doctor Evans over at Bailey examined Mendoza. He said the patient exhibited all the classic symptoms of delusional paranoia, but recovered in remarkably quick time. Now what does that tell you?"
"Professionally, I'd say whatever induced the condition occurred at Daniels LaRoche. Once the patient was removed from those environs, it began to dissipate."
"Okay." Much to his relief, Polson leaned back. "What're your thoughts on the matter of this supposed haunting?"
"I don't know." He debated whether to tell Polson of Martin Grey's interest, and decided it would be the best move. There was a good chance Polson would find out himself anyway. "As it happens, there's a guy working on the case even now." Polson cocked an eyebrow and indicated he should continue. "His name's Martin Grey, a British guy who's involved with the sister of one of our nurses. He's a paranormal investigator."
Polson cocked his head. "A Brit? How did he come to be involved?"
"Remember the nurse who pulled that little boy out of the river?" Polson nodded, a frown suddenly creasing his brow. "She's the nurse I'm referring to."
"Caroline Mackenzie?"
"Yeah." Polson drew an audible breath. "Do you know her?" John asked.
Polson looked in the direction of the Great Brother. "Not personally, but there's someone here who knows her very well."
Burwell followed the direction of his gaze and felt his chest tighten. "Oh, my God!" he said
softly. "You mean she's related to him?"
Polson's eyes twinkled in amusement at the effect he was having. "Yeah; she's his niece."
* * * *
Snow had fallen steadily for most of the afternoon and into the evening, drifting on a light wind from the great spongy-looking gray clouds to settle on the circle city. Claudia listened to the regular news reports on her way home, and the forecasters said it had fallen inches deep over most of mid and northern Indiana. Winter had definitely come early to the Midwest.
Traffic was heavy as people rushed to get home and out of the weather—although she could see 'rush' was hardly the right term for the slipping, sliding chaos on some roads. She negotiated a nest of vehicles with blue and red flashing lights as the emergency services attended a jackknifed rig on I-465, and turned off with relief at the next intersection.
The Seacombe Field apartment complex was well-lit but quiet as she pulled into the lot. The snow seemed to be giving up at last, the huge flakes drifting out of the blue-black night growing fewer and fewer even as she parked and got out of the car.
A feeling of unease gripped her as she zapped the alarm and began to walk to their ground floor apartment. Quickening her pace, she hurried through the ankle-deep snow and into the short passageway, and banged on the door.
When Martin answered it, she all but leapt into his arms—then froze. His face was set in a troubled frown, and he was surrounded by an aura. It was something she'd seen around other people on odd occasions ever since their last case in the Catskill Mountains. The auras had been pale and many colored, and she'd never been entirely sure she wasn't seeing things, or if she needed an eye examination. Martin was radiating a strong blue shot through with strands of purple.
"What's wrong?" she demanded. "I can see something's wrong!" He stepped back, and she turned to slam the outside door shut before facing him. "Tell me!"
He told her. As his words sank in, she watched almost with detachment as his aura turned a brighter blue and the strands of purple turned a light shade of mauve. She could sense his mortification.
"It wasn't her fault, Claudia." He spread his hands. "She was being controlled by something. I wiped it out, and gave her enough protection to keep her from being influenced again." He looked her in the eye. "I told her there were no secrets between you and me. Call her, talk to her, Claudia. She'll tell you what happened."
She couldn't think what to say in reply; her heart was beating out a strong, heavy rhythm and her ears tingled. As she walked through to the lounge and tossed her coat over the arm of the sofa, he followed her with a pleading expression. "You said before Caroline would tell you if I tried to hit on her. Well, she tried to hit on me, and I'm telling you."
"Marty, shut up, will you?" she said and sat down heavily.
He sat down beside her and she got up and began to pace the room, feeling a vicious stab of irritation at his persistence. When he tried to speak, she waved her hand. "Just shut up, and let me think this through!"
"Claudia, nothing happened!"
"If you say so!" Straight away she felt mean for the riposte.
"I do say so!"
"Yeah, right."
She gave the sofa cushions a glance, and headed through to the bedroom. Rolling back the covers, she examined the pristine sheets; they were as she'd left them that morning.
Martin followed her, and he looked shocked. "You're looking to see if we were in our bed!" he said, his voice choked. She gave him a cool look and headed through to the bathroom. The glass panel and the cubicle walls were dry. "I didn't fuck her anywhere, Claudia!" he shouted, standing in the doorway. "She came on to me, driven by something not of this world, and I rejected her!" He pointed at the hall. "When she walked out that door not fifteen minutes ago, Caroline's cherry was intact, that I do assure you!"
"Oh, Marty!" She sighed and sat on the hamper, her hands clasped between her legs, her eyes down. A glint of white drew her attention, and she stooped to pick up a white domino mask. Holding it up, she recognized it instantly.
So did Marty. "She was wearing that when she came out of here," he said.
"Oh. I knew I'd seen it before. She wore it at a fancy dress party last Christmas." All the fight seemed to leave her, but a nub of anger remained. "Look, I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt, okay? For now, just go and sit down. I need to think!"
"Okay." He nodded and looked around the bathroom as if searching for inspiration, but then he just nodded again and left.
She wiped her face with a cloth and patted it dry. Some of the numb feeling was leaving her skin, and she sat on the hamper again and drew out her cell phone.
Caroline answered on the second ring. "Hello?"
Her voice was a soft quaver, and Claudia felt her temper rise again. Suppressing it brutally, she spoke. "It's me."
"Claudie!"
"You know why I'm calling."
A pause. "Yeah."
She had to utter the words anyway. "You tried to hit on Marty."
A sigh. "Yeah. I'm sorry, Claudie, I really am sorry! Something possessed me, made me do it." She sounded close to tears, but Claudie felt the numbness return. "Martin didn't take advantage of me, Claudie! He… he pushed me away, did something to dispel whatever had hold of me. Don't fight with him, please! He's a good man…”
Claudia stabbed the cut-off button and sat with the phone dangling loose in her hand. It rang a few seconds later, and she pressed the reject call button. It rang again, and she repeated the move. It rang a third time, and this time her thumb paused on the button. Accepting the call, she lifted the phone. "Look, Caroline, don't say another fucking word right now, okay? You've caused a hell of a lot of trouble between me and Martin, and I need to deal with it."
"Don't punish him for what I did!"
She pressed her hand to her forehead and leaned on her elbow. "Okay. Okay!" She heard the sound of a sob come clear over the phone. "Look, Caroline, don't cry. You'll have Mom in there, and how will you explain that, huh?"
Claudia heard Caroline sniffle before she responded. "All right."
"Good. Go and relax if you can, listen to some music. Keep away from that damn computer tonight. We'll talk this over sometime tomorrow evening."
"I'm sorry, Claudie."
"You and me both," she said. "G'night."
"'Night."
Closing the call, she got up and went through to the lounge. Martin was sitting quietly, his face pale. She squinted, but there was no sign of the aura. "Are you okay?" he asked.
"I'm not sure, Marty," she said, picking up her coat.
When she pulled it on, he got up. "Where're you going?"
"I'm going for a drive." She fished the keys from her pocket and headed for the door.
He looked aghast. "In this weather?"
"In this weather." She paused in the act of opening the door and looked back at him. "Don't worry, I'll take care." Somehow she found the means to give him a smile. "You and me aren't finished yet, Martin Grey."
* * * *
The accident was still causing a backup on the highway. She could see the flashing lights through the trees. Claudia drove in the opposite direction, driving through the hushed streets of her old neighborhood, looking with jaundiced eyes at the Christmas decorations that were beginning to proliferate. She drove along Girls School Road and past her old home. The windows were lit, her father's SUV parked near the garage.
It made her think of someone who would lend a sympathetic ear, someone who knew all too well what their particular branch of Clan Mackenzie was capable of. She calculated the time difference between Indiana and California and pressed the speed dial button on her cell phone. Her brother's voice sounded after the third ring. "Tom? It's Claudia."
"Hey, sis! This is an unexpected treat. How's it goin'?"
It soothed the emotional upheaval she was feeling to hear his laid-back voice, tinged with the Californian dialect from his long years in the state. She pulled over to the side of the road; it was just too d
angerous to try to drive in such conditions and talk on the phone at the same time. "Tom, things aren't going well."
"Why so?" She told him. "What? You've got to be kidding!"
"I wish I was," she said and bit her lip, feeling tears prickling her eyes.
"That's the most un-Caroline-like thing I've ever heard!"
"I know, Tom!" Her heart felt heavy in her breast. "She tried to seduce Martin."
"No shit! It has to be that medication. It's fucking around with her emotional state."
"What medication?"
He sighed, the sharp crackle of air over his cell phone pickup making her wince. "Claudie, she went in the White River, remember? Mom called to tell me."
"Oh. I didn't know you knew."
He chuckled ruefully. "Yeah, I do. At least Mom still talks to me."
"That's not what I meant, and you know it!"
"I know. Look, back to the matter in hand, Claudie. It can't have escaped your notice, but Caroline's a babe, dude. If she ever decided to turn that charm on a guy, he'd be helpless. Hell, if she came to my apartment and did that to me I'd find it hard to resist!"
"Oh, hell, Tom! Don't say things like that, she's your sister!"
"I'm serious, Claudie. You know Caroline could have that kind of effect on men if she tried. Seriously, what chance would your guy stand? It sounds to me like he—and you—got away lightly."
"Well, maybe." She sniffed. "It was still a hell of a shock to hear him admit she tried it."
"He admitted it? There ya go." He made a soft tch tch tch sound, which she knew of old meant he was thinking things through. "You've got an honest guy there, sis. I'm a lawyer; I know the real deal when I see it. Go talk to him. Get this out in the open."
"Maybe I will."
"No maybe about it," he said. "You go talk to him."
"Okay, I will. I was just so mad when he told me, I couldn't think straight. Even when I knew he was being honest and open with me. I'll make up with him."
"Good girl." He paused. "How's the old man?"
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