"It's a pit!" Claudia drew a tissue from her pocket and held it over her nose.
"Dave's a straight guy when you get to know him." Martin noticed a defensive look cross Laurel's face. "I'm going to have to talk to him about getting this mess cleaned up, though!"
"Either that or burn down the cabin and start again," he said tersely.
"Not a bad idea!" Claudia said, her voice muffled by the tissue. "Martin, can you do the cleansing before we catch something?"
"Yes, no problem." He managed to ignore the smell as he let his senses expand. "There's a trace showing that something evil was here. It's gone; I'd better ensure it doesn't come back."
"What can we do to help?" Laurel asked. "Do we need to chant, or something?"
"No." He drew a polythene bag from his pocket. "All I really need is a quantity of dried sage and something to burn it in."
The two women glanced at one another and back to him. "Burn?" they said in unison.
"Oh yes. When burned slowly, sage smoke makes a great purifier."
Laurel rolled her eyes. "Okay, I'll buy it. Burning sage is nothing compared to what I went through tonight."
"It'll be a marked improvement on the smell in here!" Claudia said.
* * * *
Martin found a shallow tinfoil take-out tray amongst the litter near the bed along with two reasonably clean polystyrene cups and washed them out in the bathroom basin. Drying the tray thoroughly with a strip of toilet paper, he filled one of the cups with water and returned to the bedroom. Dave kept a small disposable lighter on the bedside table which Martin appropriated, noticing as he picked it up the remnants of joints stubbed out in the ashtray by the bedside light. The reek of burnt out cannabis resin hung heavy in the air by the bed.
Taking the bag he sprinkled a generous heap of the dried herb into the tray. A quick trip outside provided a small quantity of damp soil, which he scooped into the remaining cup. Clearing the junk from the dressing table, he placed the tray in the center, the cup of water to the right of it, and the cup of earth to the left.
"This should do the trick," he said, carefully igniting the heap of sage.
"If you say so," Laurel said, looking on with an amused expression.
He winked at her and blew gently on the sage to encourage it to smolder. Soon, the fumes from the aromatic herb were fighting tenaciously with the rank odor of Dave's squalor.
Martin half closed his eyes and held the tray up before him. "I invoke the powers of air, earth, fire and water, and summon them to our aid. I invoke the cleansing power residing in the sage and summon it forth to combine with the elements to purify this place of all evil."
Claudia watched carefully, her attention alternating between Martin and the objects of ritual on the dressing table. To her mind the scene resembled nothing more than an altar, with Martin presiding as the priest. At first she wondered if it was sacrilegious, but a tingling sensation that crept around the back of her neck and up to her ears told her it was far from being so.
The cabin seemed preternaturally quiet. She could hear Laurel's breathing, hoarsened by who knew how many cigarettes. Dave snored on, a low discordant rumble. Martin's voice dropped in volume and pitch but she could make out the occasional word of Erse, the language of Old Ireland, which he'd used to effect on the first encounter she'd ever had with a hostile spirit back in an alleyway in New York City. Not for the first time she wondered how he'd acquired his command of the language. It was something else to discover about her new love.
A faint radiance seemed to grow around his body and she stared at it wide-eyed. Not entirely believing her own eyes she blinked and shook her head. When she looked at him again the aura seemed to have disappeared. The wisps of smoke curled in the air and drifted toward the ceiling, where they were caught by small currents of air and swirled into eddies and still fainter wisps. The scent filled the cabin, and she felt the sense of oppression which had lain upon her spirits ever since she'd entered the place lift gradually.
Martin brought the chant to a close, finishing with the words "Blessed be!" A small shock zipped through her nerves, so quick as to make her think she'd imagined it. A glance at Laurel showed the older woman blinking and looking confused. Claudia knew then she hadn't imagined it. Dave had stopped snoring. His face looked calm in repose.
When she looked back at Martin he was examining the room, his gaze questing all around. "That did the trick," he said with satisfaction. He rubbed his hands and looked at them. "Now, we'll cleanse Laurel's cabin and the office then call it a night."
Laurel smiled and stood up. "Well, I don't know what you did there, Martin, but I sure feel a lot better." She looked at Dave almost wistfully, and draped the bed cover over him where he lay. "Dave looks out to the world."
Martin stifled a yawn and picked up the tray and the bag of sage. "More important, he's out of bounds to the next world," he said.
"Then you can do me the same service," Laurel said, heading for the door.
Martin turned to pick up the two cups but Claudia beat him to them. They were very light and when she glanced in them a much stronger thrill shot through her. They were completely empty. When she looked up at Martin his expression was totally neutral. Then he winked and, without saying a word, he turned and followed Laurel out the door.
* * * *
It was much later by the time they returned to their cabin. Claudia watched Martin as he moved slowly about the room, undressing with less than his usual care. The odor of sage smoke emanated from his clothing.
"You're dog-tired, honey," she said, taking him by the arm and guiding him to the bed. "Sit down; I'll finish undressing you."
"Thanks," he mumbled, obeying.
She pulled off his pants and socks, and, after persuading him to raise himself a little, his underpants. His cock nestled upon his thighs, totally limp. "Poor little feller!" she said, giving it a tender kiss.
He gave a tired chuckle and stroked her hair. "How did I manage without you all these years?"
"I've no idea, Martin." Reaching up she kissed him. "I wonder how I managed without you, honey. Everyone needs a special someone in their life; I'm really glad I've got you." She hesitated. "Mom was surprised at how quickly we fell for each other, babe. She's worried our relationship might burn out all the quicker because of it."
His smile was tired but radiated warmth, and he reached out to brush her hair away from her face, his touch tender. "It won't happen, darling," he said, his voice full of confidence. "We're meant for each other." He touched his chest over his heart. "I feel it here, Claudia. Remember that fight we had with James Cloverdale's spirit on the rooftop of the hotel? You saved my life and my soul back then; you couldn't have done so without there being a link between us. Both my life and my soul are yours, my darling; forever."
Tears sprang to her eyes but she made no effort to hide them or wipe them away. "I love you, Martin!"
"I love you too, sweetheart, now and always!"
She managed to smile. "You're weird, even frightening at times, but over everything, you're a good man, Martin Grey."
"Gosh, thanks!" He yawned around a smile. "I do try."
Kissing the tip of his nose, she followed it with a long lingering kiss on his lips. "You surely do," she said softly, stroking his jaw.
She got to her feet and made to drape his underpants over the back of the chair—and paused. Running the fabric through her hands she looked at the chair, and then down at the garment. They reminded her of something. "Martin?"
"Hmmph?"
She glanced back at the bed. He was lying stretched out, one arm across his eyes, his chest rising and falling slowly. Draping the underpants over the chair, she patted them and then joined him on the bed.
"It can wait," she whispered, and kissed him on the cheek.
His lips made a small puckering movement in response, and then he fell fast asleep.
Chapter Eight
The next morning Martin was shaving in front of the bat
hroom mirror, stretching his skin with his fingers so the razor would catch the stray hairs, when Claudia came in.
She held up his underpants. "I've just remembered what I was going to tell you last night when you fell asleep."
He turned and blinked at her. "About those? They're nearly new; I've hardly worn them."
She snorted. "No, silly! When I took them off you they reminded me of something we saw in Laurel's office."
He thought. "Oh, yes. There was a pair of panties on the floor."
"Give the man a cigar!" She came up and put her arms around his waist. "Why do you think they were there?"
He felt his face grow hot and hoped he wasn't blushing. "Well, I hardly like to inquire as to why a woman leaves a pair of unmentionables lying around her office."
"I should think not!" She ruffled his hair. "Okay, she might have a good reason for keeping a set in the office. Maybe she's got a weak bladder; it can happen to a woman of any age. But if so, an organized woman like Laurel would keep them somewhere out of sight."
"You're right. So why were they there?"
"Elementary, my dear Sherlock. They were the pair she was wearing last night. She took them off for some reason."
"How do you know?"
"When I knelt down with her last night I smelt the pee on her skirt and looked at it. It was hitched up, I guess from where Dave had tried to rape her. She moved her legs apart briefly and I caught a glimpse underneath. Laurel wasn't wearing anything, and it's too damn cold to go commando."
"She certainly wouldn't have had time to take them off in the office if she'd peed in them during an attempted rape."
"Right. So why was she in her office with no panties on?"
He looked at her askance. "Claudia, call me slow but why should we be interested in this?"
"Martin, did you see the way she looked at Dave last night? There was more than a boss-employee relationship in that look." She rubbed his back. "I think she and Dave are having an affair. Laurel was waiting for him in her office—ready and waiting, I should say. He was expected; just not in that way."
"Okay, I think you're right." He put down the razor. "That begs the question; why did the spirit take possession of Dave?"
"To get at her? You said yourself, that kind of nasty spirit only attacks the weak and addictive personalities. Whatever Laurel is, she isn't weak, and I'm pretty sure she's not an addict of any kind."
"Yes. I think you're on to something." He took her in his arms and inhaled the clean, freshly-showered scent of her. "It could be she was the target—or something she has. Damn!"
She drew back and looked up at him. "What?"
"I've just remembered something. When I looked around her desk I noticed her computer had a splitter box connected to it."
Claudia blinked. "Okay, I give. What's one of those, exactly?"
"It's a device used to control input from several security cameras at once. We've got a similar set-up in the security room at the tax office."
She frowned. "It couldn't be there because she handles security; she's far too busy to take on that kind of work as well as her own."
"Right. Besides, there's a dedicated security room off the reception hall."
"Oh? I didn't notice."
"No reason for you to do so, love. I only noticed it because I thought of pulling the security tapes, to see if anything showed up on them that related to our case."
"So Laurel has a splitter box set up on her PC? The questions are—why is it there, and which camera system is it taking the feed from?"
"Two questions which I don't know the answer to, but my psychic bump is tingling like mad. What time is it?"
Claudia looked at her watch. "Shit! We've got to meet Mack in an hour. We'd better get going and leave Laurel and her puzzle for later."
* * * *
Bruce emerged from the washroom just as Joanne came up the passageway, a package in her hand. "Hi, baby!" he said. "What you got there?"
She smiled, came up and kissed him, and handed him the packet. "FedEx delivery for you; I signed for it."
He took it and examined the stamp. With a surge of interest he recognized the name of his agent and smiled broadly.
"Good news, sugar?" she asked, stroking his arm.
Glancing to make sure the coast was clear he pulled her close with his free hand and kissed her. "I think it will be," he said with a wink, delighting in the feel of her breasts pressing lightly against his chest. "I think it'll be good for both of us, sweetheart."
"Cool!" She pecked him on the lips and pulled away. "I've got to go man the desk. See you later?"
"Sure thing!" He watched her go, her butt stirring in her tight pants. "Oh, baby?"
"Yeah?" she said, turning back.
For a second he thought there was a hint of impatience in her face but she smiled and he convinced himself he'd imagined it. "Where're Mr. Grey and Ms. Mackenzie?"
"They said something about taking a flight over the mountains around here."
"Oh?" He grinned. "I'm not sure how that relates to finding out how to get rid of the spook, but I guess I'm not a parapsychologist! Just hope it doesn't cost too much."
She shrugged. "I think he knows what he's doing."
With that she waved and went downstairs. Bruce stood outside the office, weighing the package in his hands.
"So do I, baby," he said softly. "So do I."
* * * *
"All set?" Mack asked.
"Ready when you are," Martin replied, checking his harness for the third time.
"You're not nervous, are you?"
Claudia unsuccessfully hid a grin.
"A little," he confessed. "I'm not that keen about flying, and I've never been in anything smaller that a 747 before."
"You'll be okay." Mack laughed. "Just think of it like riding in a car, only in three dimensions." She clicked on the radio and spoke into the microphone wand by her mouth. "Payneton tower, this is November-Golf-Alpha-three-three-zero, ready for takeoff on one."
The speaker crackled with the response. "Payneton tower, November-Golf-Alpha-three-three-zero, you are clear for takeoff. Have a good flight, Mack."
"Thanks, Sandy."
Mack eased the throttles forward and the twin-engine Piper roared and began to move. A firm, powerful thrust pressed Martin back into his seat. He glanced at Claudia, who was looking avidly out of the windows as the runway markings flickered by at an increasing rate. Somehow sensing his attention without looking, she clasped his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
The aircraft thudded as the undercarriage passed over the expansion strips between the sections of tarmac, the rhythm getting faster by the second. Then the noise ceased, the runway fell away, and the Piper powered off the airfield and into the sky.
"Okay so far, folks?" Mack asked as they leveled out.
"Fine!" Martin said, relieved and pleased.
"Absolutely!" Claudia gave his hand another squeeze.
"O-kay!" Mack sang out. "Another convert to the only way to fly! Now, let's see…"
A long, easy bank to the right, and Mack settled the Piper on a general northeast heading. Martin was surprised at how soon they reached the mountains, passing over Gainesville just over ten minutes into the flight.
"Do you make many flights up this way?" he asked, peering out at the ground below.
"I get a few every summer. One of the ideas I'm talking over with my fiancé is to run an air tour for the resorts. We'll need a larger bird to make it worthwhile, but we get our pension checks from the Guard; they'll help when it comes to financing."
"I'm surprised at how clear the ground looks from up here," Martin said, indicating the sweep of bare forest they were passing over. "Where you get trees, all you see from ground-level are the trunks and branches. Up here, you see down in amongst them. With the snow on the ground, I can see so much more."
"Yep, know what you mean. It'll help our search—providing the valley isn't in an area covered by evergreens." She pu
rsed her lips and frowned. "I'm going to tell you something I'd not normally say to a first-timer like you; it doesn't help their nerves. Planes do go missing up here sometimes. One fall a few years back, a charter flight out of Albany went down somewhere up here. I helped with the air search, flying this very bird. We never did find the wreckage."
"You're right, Mack, that's not exactly comforting!" Martin looked out at the ground passing far below.
"Sorry if it worries you," she said, looking across at him.
"It doesn't. The thought of death bothers me, of course, especially now I've found the woman I love." He looked at Claudia, who blushed and blew him a kiss. "Because I have proof there's an afterlife, I know one way or the other we'll all survive."
"Uh huh. Where are you two going after finishing this job?" Mack asked.
"We're heading on home to Indy for Thanksgiving," Claudia said.
"Nice! Going to meet her folks, huh?" Mack grinned over her shoulder at him.
He chuckled softly. "Yes. Shows you how serious it is. I'm going to meet the folks!"
Claudia gave him a singularly sweet smile.
* * * *
Laurel looked up from her desk as Dave sidled into the office, his injured foot trailing with the weight of the cast. His blond mop of hair looked more untidy than ever and dark smudges underlined his eyes. Against his pale grimy skin they made him look like a raccoon.
"Well?" she said, not bothering to keep the asperity out of her voice.
He closed the office door, which made her heart beat faster when she remembered the last time he'd been with her, but just by looking at him she knew it was only Dave Ledbetter who stood there like a contrite school kid.
"Sorry, Laurel," he muttered.
"Sorry what?" she said, standing up. "Sorry for attacking me? Sorry for being so fucked up you don't even know what day of the week it is?"
"It's Friday…"
"I know it's Friday, you idiot!" she snapped, slapping his chest hard with the back of her hand. "Don't you know how scared I was last night? You tried to rape me!" she said, emphasizing each word by digging her finger into his chest. "'Sorry' doesn't cut it, Dave!"
Mr. Grey and the Spirit from the Sky Page 11