Of Ash and Spirit: Piper Lancaster Series

by D. G. Swank

  Her eyes went round.

  “I didn’t do it, Linda,” I said in a rush.

  “Piper, please. You’re the last person I would suspect of murder, but you do not want to hire Bob Dunn.”

  My body went on full alert. “Why?”

  “Just take my word for it. When I see you in a bit, I’ll give you a list of names, but no one in this firm. Now scoot. I’ll meet you at Office Depot.”

  I paced a path in front of the office supply store for ten minutes before Linda showed up, looking frazzled.

  “We have to make this quick,” she said as we walked inside and she grabbed a cart. “Bob Dunn himself wanted to know why you dropped by.”

  That caught me by surprise. “Why would he care?”

  “That stupid codicil.” She walked past the copy paper and headed toward the writing implements aisle. “You asked if your father acted strangely before his murder, and the answer is yes. He wasn’t himself for about two months before his death. Bob and Jim noticed but attributed it to his case. He was catching a lot of public flak for defending the employees of Harper Manufacturing, and he was particularly worried about your and your mother’s safety.” She paused. “But I think there was more to it.”

  “Why?”

  “A woman made an appointment to see him several months before his murder. I wouldn’t have thought much about it, except she refused to tell me anything about why she wanted to meet with him. But it was his reaction after she left that made her memorable. He canceled all his appointments and locked himself in his office for the rest of the afternoon.”

  “What did she want?”

  “I don’t know. I tried to weasel it out of him, but he refused to say a word about it.”

  “Do you know her name?”

  She pointed to her temple and tapped. “Can’t forget it. I’ve never seen your father like that.” She paused. “Her name was Miriam. Miriam Peabody.”

  My heart skipped a beat. The woman who had called Jack weeks ago. I tried to keep my excitement and terror hidden. “She was with a group called the Guardians.”

  Surprise widened her eyes. “Yes. How did you know?”

  “A friend has met her as well.”

  “I hope his or her encounter went better than the one with your father. Your father stayed in there all day. She came back, without an appointment, a few weeks before your father was murdered. Your father left soon after she did. Later he asked me to reserve a safe-deposit box for him and not at his usual bank. He showed me a wooden case and told me to make sure it would fit.” She grabbed a handful of pens from a display and tossed them into the cart, then began to move down the aisle.

  My breath caught, but I forced myself to remain calm. “Do you know what was in the wooden case?”

  She cringed. “I confess I looked.”

  “And?”

  “It held two knives.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face. The daggers Abel had been so certain I could find.

  “Piper, are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded, resting my hand on a metal shelf to keep myself upright. “Do you know what happened to them after he died?”

  “As far as I know, they’re still there. I do know that he put two names on the box and only those two people could get them out.”

  “But if my parents are dead, wouldn’t they go to the estate?”

  “Yes, if your mother had been the second name.” Her eyes narrowed. “Your grandmother didn’t tell you anything about this? I explained it all to her at the time.”

  “No,” I choked out. “What’s the second name on the box, Linda?”

  “Piper,” she said carefully. “The second name is yours.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Whatever Miriam Peabody had said to my father had convinced him that his ten-year-old daughter would someday need those two daggers. Moreover, he’d known they were important enough to lock them away in a safe. But where had he gotten them?

  “Did Miriam Peabody bring the box to my father?”

  She shook her head. “No. She had a medium-sized handbag. I noticed because it was a Prada. There was no way she could have brought it to him.”

  Had she told him where to find them? Or had the Guardians merely discovered he had them? I had a feeling it was the former. What if they’d killed him because he refused to hand them over?

  “I contacted the police to let them know about her . . . it all seemed so coincidental, but I’m not sure they ever followed up on it.”

  I knew for a fact they hadn’t questioned Miriam Peabody. Her name wasn’t in the file, and the only mentions of the Guardians were in connection with the hate group related to the civil rights case. They’d either missed this completely or had been coerced to ignore it.

  Who was the conspiracy theorist now?

  “Are you all right?” Linda asked.

  I nodded, even though I felt anything but. “Yeah. Fine. Did you ever see her again?”

  “No. But that first visit was enough to make your father paranoid. I know he came up with the codicil during that period.”

  That made sense.

  “Do you know anything about the project he was working on?” I asked. “The personal one.”

  “No. I’m afraid I don’t.” She shot me a look. “I’m surprised your grandmother hasn’t told you any of this.”

  “Not a word. I’m presuming my grandmother has the key to the box.”

  “No,” she said. “It wasn’t in his personal items. I looked. I suspect he kept it somewhere at home.”

  If that was true, then where? I didn’t remember seeing one when I searched his desk, but then again, I hadn’t known to look for a key.

  “You said it wasn’t his usual bank,” I said. “What bank was it?”

  “Bank of Asheville. Downtown.” She leaned closer. “But if you can’t find the key, you can still get in. Your name is on the signature card and the account. All you need to do is show them your ID, although I’d suggest taking a copy of your father’s death certificate and a copy of his trust papers for good measure. They should be able to call a locksmith to drill a hole in the lock to get it open.”

  “Thank you!” I pulled Linda into a hug, catching her by surprise based on the squeak she released. “This has been so helpful.”

  “Don’t go selling those knives right away,” she said. “They looked old. If your father was so secretive about locking them up, they must be very valuable.”

  “More than you know. Thanks again.”

  She reached into her purse and pulled out a folded paper. “Here’s the list of attorneys I promised. And for what it’s worth, I hope you show those two old farts up and meet the codicil requirements.”

  “Thanks, Linda. I only wish it were that easy.”

  I gave the list a quick glance as I left the store. Hiring one of these attorneys was going to cost me a fortune. More money than I could probably afford.

  It was a little after ten and my rescheduled appointment from the day before was at eleven. I had enough time that I could go home, find Dad’s paperwork, then head to the bank after I met with the Williamses this afternoon. Once I collected the daggers out of the safe-deposit box, I’d need to figure out where to store them. I was fairly certain the Guardians had been the ones to take all of Dad’s files, and if Miriam Peabody had called Jack weeks ago, they were still very much alive and well, despite Abel’s insistence to the contrary. And for all I knew, Abel was after the daggers himself. He claimed to be interested in antiquities.

  It definitely made him suspicious.

  He’d told me to call him once I had them, but I wasn’t so sure I should do that.

  When I got home, Rhys was at the kitchen table, exactly where I’d left her over an hour ago. “You’re back already. I hope that’s a good sign.”

  “I know where the daggers are.”

  Her body jerked to attention. “What?”

  I shared what Linda had told me, and when I finished, she said, �
��Do you think that Miriam Peabody told your dad where to find the daggers?”

  “I don’t know. But if she did, I bet he wasn’t supposed to keep them. They wanted Jack to go look at that collection of weapons. Why would they give my father daggers?”

  “If they thought you were a demon hunter . . . ?”

  “Then why would they have tried to have me killed?”

  “Maybe they never intended for you to be killed. What if they had planned to kidnap you and groom you themselves?”

  I opened my mouth to protest, then closed it. She could have a point.

  “If they want to control demons, what better way to do so than by using a demon hunter?”

  “Then why did they leave me alone all these years?”

  “Maybe they chickened out after they killed your parents. You never showed any sign of being special until recently. Or, wait a minute, the codicil comes into effect on your twenty-fifth birthday. There has to be something special about the timing. But how would they all know about the reappearance of the Lost Colony?” She shook her head. “I bet they decided to let you be until you were close to your birthday, but now they’re priming you. First with the codicil—”

  “And then with Abel,” I said, feeling duped.

  “He’s all mysterious, telling you to find the answers to the codicil and locate the daggers . . . pointing you in the right direction for their purposes.”

  “So you think he’s just after the daggers?”

  “There has to be an easier way to get them, Piper. He wants the daggers, but he wants you with them.”

  She was right. About all of it.

  “No more Abel,” I said. “I can’t trust him.” Why did it make me feel so sad and betrayed? I’d just met the guy yesterday. I needed to shake this off.

  “Agreed. Especially after what I found out about him.”

  “What?”

  “Well, Kieran Abel’s family has owned an estate and antique business for over a hundred years. It’s been through four generations and spans the U.S., England, France, and the Netherlands. It specializes in high-end objects. Kieran is the fourth Abel to own the business, but his father was based in England. Before that, his grandfather and great-grandfather were in France and Belgium, but their last names were Abiel. Kieran’s father changed it to Abel.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “Who knows. It’s not uncommon for immigrants to have different spellings of their names, even if it turns out to be inadvertent.”

  “So he’s not American,” I said. “He doesn’t sound American, but he doesn’t sound British either.”

  “I can’t find definitive evidence of a connection between him and the Guardians, but it seems pretty likely given that he collects old things.” She swung her laptop around to face me. “Kieran Abel’s business is based in New York, yet he’s been in North Carolina for the past year.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “To watch you?” she asked.

  That was creepy as crap.

  “He owns two places in this area—a house in the mountains and a condo downtown.”

  “Two homes?”

  “From what I can gather, he’s loaded.” Her lips twisted. “If he’s as cute as you say, you should try to snag him . . . other than the whole betraying you part.”

  “I don’t need a man,” I said. “And I definitely don’t want Abel.” But it felt wrong when I said it, just like law school had felt wrong.

  “I can keep digging for more info,” she said, “but once I got that far, I turned my attention to Okee.”

  “Did you find anything?”

  “Not much, but from what I can gather, Okee is spelled O-k-e-u-s, and pronounced Okee. It’s the name of a Native American god.”

  I stared at her. “Say that again.”

  “You heard right. Okeus is a god associated with evil and war.”

  I sat back in my chair, my chest feeling tight. “That makes sense, right? Is he the devil?”

  “Some texts correlate him to the devil.”

  “Why would the devil want me?”

  “You can see demons. Plenty of people—and demons—seem to think you can kill them. It would probably fall under information he needs to know.”

  “So he can kill me,” I said, feeling sick. “If I’m a threat, why would they keep me alive?”

  “But didn’t you say Abel bound the demon to keep it from talking about you?”

  “Yeah.” Which, when I thought about it, fit with the Guardians’ plans to harness the demons for their own purposes. “Why does Abel want me to kill Valvad?” I asked.

  “To prove you can?”

  Maybe. But something told me there was more to it.

  I glanced at the time. “We need to leave soon if we’re going to that eleven o’clock appointment. After that, I need to find Dad’s death certificate and trust paperwork,” I said. “Or, miracle of all miracles, the safe-deposit box key.”

  I knew where the paperwork was—I’d used it when applying for a student loan last year—but the key was nowhere to be found.

  Since Rhys had to leave for class after the morning appointment, we took separate cars to the home on the east side of town. It was at the base of Beaucatcher Mountain, which made me nervous. Since there had been another death last night, did that mean Valvad was now strong enough to leave, or had Thargos fed off that poor woman instead of Helen?

  Mrs. Briar was an older woman who looked anxious when she opened the door, almost as if someone else had summoned me. I had no idea why she was upset or what might be going on with her. A few days ago, I would have gone over all the research that Rhys had done in anticipation of my visit, but today I was walking in with only the client’s name. While Rhys had already done the research, I’d refused to let her tell me what she’d discovered. It was both liberating and terrifying.

  I was sure Mrs. Briar was going to turn us away, but she let us into her small living room.

  “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve experienced?” I said.

  “I’m not sure I believe that you can do this,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder as if to ensure she wasn’t being secretly filmed.

  “You don’t think Piper can talk to ghosts?” Rhys asked.

  “That’s right,” she said with plenty of attitude.

  “That’s okay,” I said. “Skepticism is good, actually.” I’d run into my fair share of skeptical clients. They’d always become believers by the end of a session. Of course, everything had changed. I wasn’t going to pretend there was a spirit in her house. “I don’t know if spirits are living in your home, Mrs. Briar, but I’ll tell you one way or another. It’s up to you whether you believe it or not.”

  “Why would you do this for free?” she asked. “Are you some kind of weirdo?”

  Rhys’s chest puffed up and she looked like she was about to tell the woman off, but I put a hand on her arm. Turning to my client, I said, “That’s a fair question. Many clients give me a gratuity after I’ve answered all their questions, but it’s definitely not required or expected.”

  “Then why do you do it?” she asked.

  “Because if you have a spirit in the house, he or she is probably here because they’re unhappy. I can help them move on and hopefully give you both some peace.”

  “So you do this out of the goodness of your heart?” she sneered.

  “She doesn’t have to do this at all,” Rhys said. “We can go.”

  I stared into Mrs. Briar’s face. “At first I did it because I could, but now I do it because it’s the right thing to do. If someone needs help and no one else is offering, then I’m honor bound to try.”

  Her mouth pressed into a thin line. An older man walked up behind her with a huge grin on his face. “Madeline, quit being so cantankerous.” He turned to me. “She’s always been like that, but once you crack her outer shell, she’s got a soft, gooey center.”

  I chuckled at him, but Mrs. Briar got pissed. “Are you laughing at me?�
�

  “No, ma’am. I was just talking to . . .” The older man’s image flickered.

  Oh crap. I was getting stronger.

  “Hi,” I said to the man. “I’m Piper.”

  “Hank. Pleased to meet you.” He held out his hand and I reached for it, but my hand went through his.

  “Who are you talking to?” Mrs. Briar demanded. “Are you mocking me?”

  I offered her a patient look. “Hank.”

  That was like tossing a match onto a gasoline-doused wood pile. “Do you think you can mock me like that?” she shouted.

  “Why did you ask her to come if you’re only going to yell at her?” Rhys demanded. “Come on, Piper. Let’s go.”

  While I didn’t really want to stay either, I couldn’t ignore the disappointment on Hank’s face. His wife might not be very pleasant, but Hank needed me to stay.

  “I can’t,” I said in defeat.

  “Go!” Mrs. Briar said. “Go now.”

  “Hank,” I said. “What can I do to help you?”

  Gratitude filled his eyes. “Madeline’s just so miserable and lonely. She lashes out at everyone.”

  I made a face. “I can’t help her with that. I can only help you.”

  “I can’t leave her until I know she’s happy.”

  “Has she ever been happy?” I asked, knowing I was insulting her, but I was limited on time. She was already grabbing at my arm while Rhys yelled at her to let go.

  “She’s always been a complainer,” he admitted, cocking his head. “But she hasn’t been able to find joy in anything now that I’m gone.”

  Admittedly, my one-on-one experience with ghosts was limited, but Mr. Briar was the first one I’d met who knew—and acknowledged—he was dead. “She probably misses you.”

  “I know, and I know she can’t hear me, but she seems to know I’m here.”

  “I don’t think your presence is giving her comfort, Hank. I’m not sure it matters whether you’re here with her or not. If you stay, you’ll both be miserable.”

  I felt Mrs. Briar drop her grip on my arm.

  “But at least I’ll be miserable with her.”

  Was that true love? Loving someone so much you’d rather be miserable with them than move on to paradise and look for your own happiness? No wonder I’d never fallen in love.