Flight From Death

by Yasmine Galenorn

  Ralph moved to return to his room, but then paused. “I know the circumstances are less than ideal, but Shimmer . . . do you regret being here? Earthside, I mean.”

  I had to think about the answer to that one, because even though I opened my mouth to say Of course, I realized that wasn’t exactly true. I genuinely liked Bette and Ralph, and my relationship with Alex . . . well, that was on a swiftly evolving escalator. And then, there was Stacy.

  “No, I’m beginning to think this isn’t so bad. Ralph, my life in the Dragon Reaches wasn’t the same as other dragons have. I think most dragons would kick and scream before letting themselves be sent over Earthside. It’s rare to meet one who likes interacting with humans—the nature of the beast, you might say.”

  I felt like I was running around and around the subject, but it really wasn’t an easy question. I was fighting a lifetime of training. I had been expected to have the same perspective as the rest of my people, while still accepting their disdain for me.

  “I’m going to jump out on a limb here and say I think this might be good for me. I don’t want to treat others the way I was treated back there, and so I want to lose what prejudices I had . . . or at least be forced to question them. How’s that for an answer?”

  Ralph patiently listened, then jerked his head toward his room. “I get it. Okay then, I’m going to put away my clothes, then I’ll meet you downstairs.” He shut the door behind him as he left.

  As I heaved my suitcase up on my bed, I hoped that I hadn’t sounded insulting. But Ralph hadn’t given me an indication that I’d said anything offensive. I opened the top dresser drawer and unzipped my suitcase. As I began to lay out my clothes, a noise startled me—like something slamming—and I turned around. The drawer was shut.

  I stared at the dresser. This time I suspected that it wasn’t Chai announcing himself. “Okay . . . let’s try this again.” I opened the drawer. As I turned back to get my shirts, a scraping sound echoed through the room. I whirled around. The drawer was shut.

  “Can you please not do that?” I had no clue who I was talking to, but I wasn’t in the mood for games. “I’m staying in the room, I’m here . . . deal with it.”

  Normally, I knew it wasn’t wise to be surly with ghosts, but we’d had a long ride, I still felt guilty over the ferry incident, and I wasn’t in the mood to argue. I yanked open the drawer and stood back, staring at it. Nothing.

  Still keeping my eyes on the drawer, I leaned around to once again pick up my shirts, then thrust them toward the opening. As I dropped them in, the dresser drawer slammed shut, catching the hem of one tank top as it closed. If my hand had been any closer, it would have smashed my fingers. Well, if I were human it would have smashed them. But dragon or not, it still would have hurt.

  “Well, thank you ever so much. That’s rude, you know. Now knock it off.” I was feeling less inclined toward being polite as this little game went on.

  The drawer opened again, and my clothes came flying out to land at my feet. I picked them up and put them back in my suitcase and zipped it closed, leaving it on the bed. I made sure my iPad and anything else that I didn’t want broken was in my tote bag.

  “If that’s the way you want to play it,” I whispered to whoever might be listening. “I can play this game, too. But you may not like the end result.” And, with that, I slung my tote bag over my shoulder and headed downstairs to ask Patrick who the hell his freakshow ghost was.

  CHAPTER 5

  “Who’s the jerk trying to drive away your guests?” As I entered the kitchen, I saw that Ralph had made it down before me. He was sitting there, pancakes and sausage on his plate. Alex was relaxing with a bottle of blood—the microbottlers who provided bottled blood made sure the glass was dark enough so that the color didn’t show through. In fact, it was hard to tell there was liquid in there at all.

  Patrick dished up another plate and handed it to me, motioning for me to sit down by Ralph. The table was tucked into the kitchen nook. The window behind the table overlooked what I assumed was the backyard. I glanced up at the clock. It was twelve fifteen. A little past the Witching Hour.

  “I take it you met one of our resident problems?” Patrick frowned and took his seat again.

  “If by that, you mean the joker who didn’t want me to put away my clothes and kept slamming the dresser drawer shut, yes. If I had been a little slower, I would have had some pretty damned bloody knuckles, if not worse.” I stabbed a sausage and bit the end off it.

  Patrick froze. “Yeah. One of my problem children, all right. Well, I was hoping you guys would actually find something rather than having to just go on my word, so I guess I can put that worry to bed.”

  Ralph pulled out his iPad. “Mind if I record the conversation? It’s easier than trying to take notes, and this way we won’t miss anything you’re saying.”

  “Sounds good to me, but I warn you—more than one phone conversation has been messed with, so you may just want to take some actual notes regardless. I’m not sure I can guarantee that whoever—whatever—it is will be so kind as to leave the recording alone.” Patrick shook his head, looking grumpy.

  Alex pulled out a notebook and pen. He was such a high-tech-gadget kind of guy that it told me he was taking what Patrick said seriously. “History first. When did you buy the house?

  “Like I told you on the phone, a couple years ago. It belonged to a friend of mine named Nathan Strand. He died about ten years back, and his family decided to sell the house, so I bought it. I always thought it would make a nice little B and B, but I didn’t get around to doing anything with it till late last year.”

  Ralph glance around at the kitchen. “Did you live here in the meantime?”

  “No, I was wrapping up another business I had going and wanted to phase out. I basically hired a housekeeper to come over once a week to keep things tidy until I could make time for renovations. I also wanted to sell my condo first. I haven’t been a vampire all that long, comparatively, so I haven’t built up the wealth some of them do.”

  Alex let out a snort. “Some never do. Not all vamps are rich. I do fine by my business, and have accumulated a fair amount, but it’s not a given.”

  “Yeah, I’ve come to realize that.” Patrick shifted in his seat and rested his right ankle on his left thigh. “Anyway, Nathan died and I bought the house from his family.”

  “What did Nathan die of?” I asked. It seemed likely to me that the previous owner would be our first possible suspect in the haunting.

  Patrick frowned. “I’m not sure, to be honest. His family said that he wasn’t well at the end—he was losing weight, and unable to eat. I’ll have to dig out the information.”

  Ralph was arranging a bunch of gadgets on the table. I recognized them as the ghost-hunting equipment. “We’re going to set up sensors and cameras around the area. Shimmer has already seen evidence of ghostly activity, but we need to get a clear idea of what we’re dealing with.”

  “Did Nathan ever tell you his house was haunted? Could this have started before you owned the house? It appears to be a historical place; maybe it came pre . . . ghosted?” I was still new to knowing what questions to ask, but I was trying to learn.

  Patrick took another sip of his blood. “He never said anything, but then Nathan wasn’t a man who believed in ghosts. While I believe this current bout of phenomena started after renovations began, the truth is I don’t know. Since nobody was living here, I have no clue as to what might have been going on.”

  Alex motioned to me. “Shimmer, in the morning, you and Ralph check around town to see if you can find out anything about the house’s history. Patrick, do you have the original blueprints for the house? And how extensive were the renovations you made?”

  “Yes, I do—in my office. The renovations were substantial. We knocked out a lot of walls, steamed off all the old wallpaper so we could paint. I updated the kitchen and bathrooms and the entire second and third floors. The basement had been fairly small and unf
inished, so I had the contractors expand it. We built what amounts to another entirely new floor plan down there. It took the men I hired over three months and they worked at a good clip. And that brings me to another item. Robbie and his men complained quite a bit about the house. They kept saying strange things were happening as they worked.”

  “What about a local witch or necromancer? You know of any? We might need her services, if you do. Ghosts that make nuisances of themselves usually aren’t willing to leave. We may need someone who can come in and perform an exorcism.” Alex took a long pull from his bottle, then wiped his mouth with a napkin. He might be rough-and-tumble but I couldn’t fault his manners.

  Patrick nodded. “Yes, Tonya Harris. I have her card in my office. I’ll be right back.”

  As he left the room, I dug into my pancakes. They were light and fluffy, and thoroughly delicious. It was easy to see how Patrick would be able to keep all his guests happy, both the bloodsuckers and those still living. Ralph was fidgeting with the monitoring devices, calibrating them he said, and Alex was making notes, when a loud clanging echoed through the room as the skillet flew off the stove, scattering grease everywhere as it sailed past Alex, missing him by a couple of inches.

  Alex jumped, his pen and notepad flying. Ralph blinked and looked back at the stove. I set down my fork, distinctly unhappy that pancake time was over.

  “What the hell?” Alex headed toward the stove as Ralph punched a couple buttons and held up what looked like something from the pages of the Techno-Geek catalog. It made me think of a sophisticated toy, actually, but it was blinking with an orange light and making some sort of noise, and I had the feeling that it wasn’t just a cosplay prop.

  “Alex . . . there’s something in the room with us.” Ralph pushed his glasses back on his nose. “And whatever it is, it’s just the tip of the iceberg.” His voice sped up as he stood. “Look at this—the reading is off the charts. I know we’ve seen some funky things in the Greenbelt Park District—that’s the most haunted area in Seattle—but this is bigger.”

  Alex was at the stove, examining the burners. He tore off a couple paper towels while he was at it and began to wipe up the grease that had spilled all over the floor. Meanwhile, I gingerly picked up the skillet and carried it, along with my plate, to the sink. I followed Alex’s lead and helped him clean up the trail of grease that had splattered out of the pan as it went flying above his head.

  “What’s going on?” Patrick entered the kitchen, business card in hand.

  “Your ghost decided to take a swipe at me with the sausage pan. Made a mess with the grease and nearly bludgeoned me, it did.” Alex tossed the paper towels. He returned to the table. “Let’s get back to business, shall we? And if that’s your witch’s name, give it to Shimmer. Shimmer, please contact her in the morning, as well as looking into the history of the house. Ralph, I want this place wired. We need to find out where the strongest energy is emanating from—that’s probably where the ghost is anchored.”

  Patrick handed the card to me. I glanced at it. Apparently, Tonya Harris owned a witchcraft shop in the Town’s End Mini-Mall on Kearney street.

  “Human, Fae, or other?”

  “Human, but a damn sight more powerful than most. I dated her mother years ago, before I decided that I was better off with someone less . . . volatile. The Harris women are not known for their good natures, but they’re good at whatever they choose to do, and Tonya is a top-notch businesswoman and witch.” Patrick crossed his arms, staring at the stove, looking as though he were debating what to say next. Finally, he picked up a sponge and began to wash down the range.

  “The ghostly activity is picking up,” he said, his face grim. “I haven’t officially opened for business yet because, the two times I was about ready, something happened to stop me. One of the bay windows shattered . . . from the inside. A vase went sailing through it. I’d just gotten the window replaced and was about to open up the next day when I came upstairs to find a pool of blood on the ground and the mattresses on the second floor were shredded. Remember I told you that I needed to re-furnish the rooms on the second floor? It’s because the ghost tore up the joint. That’s why Ralph and Shimmer are staying on the third story. The rooms on the second are a mess.”

  Alex jotted down notes as fast as he could write. “Patrick, I don’t remember you being scared of much, but right now you look about ready to jump out of your skin. And when a vampire is frightened, you know there’s a problem.”

  “I was scared of dying, but that’s about it. You’re right, though. I keep thinking . . . what if the ghost decides to slam a stake through my heart during the day? Or worse, what if I open up to guests and something happens to one of them? Then I’m not only legally liable for their injuries but morally liable for them as well. I don’t know what to do.”

  Closing the notebook, Alex tucked it back in his pocket and nodded. “We’ll do our best to find out what’s happening and get a handle on it. I think we’re ready for you to show us the rest of the house. Let’s start where you first began renovations.”

  • • •

  Ralph handed me one of the gadgets. “This is a thermomagnetic resonating unit. TRU for short. See this gauge? It tells you what the temperature is, and what it was two minutes ago, and ten minutes ago. That way you can see when it begins to fluctuate. This readout monitors how many degrees the temperature dropped or spiked, down to one-tenth of a degree. And this one? Tells you how quickly it happened.” As he pointed out the various functions, Ralph’s eyes sparkled. He was so at home with his geek self that it made me smile to see.

  I nodded. “Do I have to write down anything? Or does it keep a record?”

  “It’s a wireless device, and it feeds into the software on my laptop, so as long as my laptop is on and I’ve got the program running, it will download the information that it’s extracting. It also has a USB port which allows me to download the stored information if my laptop is off at the time.” He turned to Alex. “And you, please carry the EVP recorder. We’ll see if we catch any audible components to the haunting. I’ll carry the full-spectrum camcorder and see if there’s anything to record.”

  It all felt very Ghostbusters to me, but then again, knowing we were dealing with a ghost didn’t ensure that we had all the information needed to handle the situation. So the gadgets and toys could only help us. I tried to remember what Alex had drilled into my head over the past few months: We could never have too much information on a case.

  Patrick led us down to the basement. “We started renovations here, because excavating so much room in the basement was the biggest job. We had to shore up the foundation, repair it in several areas, and then expand and finish the entire basement. I needed an area large enough in which to house several rooms offering secure protection to guests from the undead set. I also decided to build my bedroom suite down here. There are four bedrooms including mine. Each is reinforced with steel doors that lock from the inside. I have the master key and I keep that with me at all times. The walls are faux stonework, and while not fireproof, they offer protection from the vampire-slayer-wannabes.”

  The basement had a luxe feel—the marble tile and gleaming white walls brought a sensation of light and air in, even though there were no windows. The lights mimicked daylight without the harmful effect sunshine had on vampires. Central to the four bedrooms, a seating area offered guests a chance to sit and read. A desk nearby held a computer and printer, and a big-screen TV covered one wall.

  “My vampire guests can retreat here without feeling trapped in their rooms, which is important when it’s nearing. The television has both DVR and DVD, and the computer is for guests to use. I thought of everything.” Patrick frowned, sounding so defeated that I felt sorry for him.

  Ralph looked around and whistled. “Impressive.”

  “Thanks.” Patrick glanced around. “This took a massive amount of planning. I just want to make a go of this.”

  Alex clapped him on the back.
“We’ll do our best to help. Now show us where you started the reno.”

  “Over here—in this corner.” Patrick led us over to the bedroom door closest to the back of the house. “Right here, where the edge of this door is? This was the original wall of the basement. We dug the rest of the way back, shoring up the foundation and creating load-bearing walls as we went.”

  “Can we see the blueprints for what the house originally looked like?” Ralph cleared some of the magazines off the desk to make room.

  Patrick headed for the stairs. “Sure. I’ll go get them. Alex, why not show them your room?”

  Alex led us over to the closest door on the right. “Here, take a look. I have to say, Patrick thought of everything.” The rooms were small, but tidy, and not only were they behind reinforced steel doors, but the bed itself was in a stone base—like a sarcophagus, with a comfortable and rather large mattress inside. The top was bulletproof and shatterproof glass, providing a difficult task for anybody seeking to get through to the vampire inside when they were asleep. Alex showed us the hidden emergency trip wire to open the luxury tomb if necessary. These rooms provided a tidy amount of security, as much as any public resting place could be safe for vamps.

  “I’m really impressed by the level of workmanship that went into this rebuild,” Ralph said.

  “That’s right, you said you put yourself through school while working in construction.” I glanced around. The rest of the room made a tidy use of space—with a mini-fridge (which I assumed would contain bottles of blood), a microwave, a recliner, and a wardrobe. There was no mirror, which made total sense—vampires can’t cast a reflection.

  “Yes, and I will tell you, whoever he had working for him? They knew what they were doing. This isn’t some quick flip here.”