by Dima Zales
For the first time she would touch the edge of the power she had buried on a rainy night, at the edge of a river.
7
Annie found Claire up and dressed when she wandered out of the bedroom just before sunrise.
“Good morning.” Claire pulled a pair of leather boots on over her jeans and stood. “I was just about to wake you. We need to head over to the Sutherland mansion as soon as I have packed up my supplies.”
“What? Now?” Annie stared at her. “That place is haunted by more than Juliet. Not even the dumbest kids in the neighborhood go near it.”
“Where did you think we were going to free Juliet?”
“Well—there, but not until tonight.” She’d braced herself for that, but spending most of the day there? On Halloween? “What if her killer—ˮ
“Reaches out and touches us?” Claire did a bad job of hiding her smile. “According to Daniel, they will not be able to sense us until the exact moment of the murder. I have protection, and we will stay out of their range. I can’t go into this blind, Annie. We are both risking too much.”
“Okay, got it. You can stop hitting the obvious button.” This time Claire’s smile flashed across her face. Annie studied her, and noticed that the bruise on her face was gone. “What happened to the bruise Daniel gave you? It was a nasty one.”
“I have always been a fast healer, and I have some ointments that help.”
Annie let it go. For now. “What kind of protection?”
She almost missed the relief that flashed in Claire’s eyes. “We’ll go to my shop. It doesn’t open until noon on Sunday, and my part time help runs the shop for me on the weekends. I have most of what we need there. If not, a quick trip to The Witch’s Way may be in order.”
Annie raised both eyebrows. “You shop at your competitor?”
“Madame Serena does have a larger shop, and favors cramming as much as possible into the space.”
“Tell me about it.”
“At any rate, we have been friendly since I opened, especially after she discovered there are customers enough for both of us. Did you want to go home first, take some time to clean up?”
“Yeah.” She felt disheveled and dirty, after sleeping in her shirt, and she knew her hair looked like she’d played with electricity. “I’ll meet you at The Wiche’s Broom in an hour.”
“Knock on the front door. I will watch for you.”
She showed Annie out the back door, and Annie jogged down the alley, glad she didn’t drive yesterday. The militant parking regulations would have had her car towed and in the public lot a minute after the stores on Forest closed for the night.
Still at a jog, she turned into the narrow street running along the side of Claire’s store—and skidded to a halt when a figure stepped out of the wall.
“God—Daniel?” He glided closer, still close to transparent. Annie could see through him to the street. “What are you doing here?”
“Your power is like a light in this dark place, Annie Sullivan. I needed—ˮ He lowered his head, and his grief reached out to her like a physical thing.
“We’re going to help you, Daniel. You were there half the night, you know Claire has a plan—”
“Do you trust her?” He studied her, impressive even as a barely-there spirit. In life, he must have been at least six foot three. Annie had to look up to meet his eyes. She had been so overwhelmed at the cemetery, she didn’t notice his height—or anything beyond the fact that he actually existed.
“With my life.” Something about Claire had Annie trusting her from the beginning. “She won’t walk away, Daniel. Neither of us will.”
He bowed to her. “You have my deepest gratitude, Annie Sullivan.”
“Annie will do. Now, if what I read last night is correct, you’re expending energy. So get out of here, and save it for tonight. You’ll need it.”
His eyes narrowed. “You are going to my home now. I would accompany you.”
She sighed, rubbing at her forehead. Three hours of sleep did not give her brain enough downtime to keep up in an argument with a stubborn ghost. “It’s not like I can stop you, but if we need you on tonight, and you can’t bring it to the table, none of us may see November 1st.”
“I will, as you say, bring it to the table. For my Juliet, I will sacrifice all that I am.”
He said it with such depth, his feelings for her raw on his face, that Annie couldn’t say no to him. “Just be ready for a lecture if you do show.”
“A lecture from Claire Wiche, I am presuming.”
“You are presuming correctly.”
A smile tugged at his mouth. “I find myself enjoying this banter with you, Annie. For too long I have wandered, invisible to those around me, and heard nothing but inane conversations on those cell phones you seem so bound to.”
“You’re not wrong,” she muttered, though she’d been turning her phone off lately, to keep from seeing all the well-meaning texts. “I have to go, since I’m meeting Claire soon. If you want to be part of this, don’t show yourself until we’re at your mansion.”
“Very well. Until then, Annie Sullivan.”
Before she could say anything he disappeared, leaving a cold spot where he had been. Odd—he had felt cold when he was solid, but the air around him had been the normal October chill, unlike every ghost encounter she’d ever read.
“You’re a mystery, Daniel Sutherland.”
She would help him past his grief, if she could. No one deserved what he had suffered for two centuries.
With only half an hour before she had to be back here, Annie sprinted to her apartment, using the time to decide whether or not she should tell Claire about her encounter with Daniel. She had a feeling Claire would try to stop him somehow, while Annie thought his insight might be what put them one step ahead in the game.
“Deal with it if he shows, Annie.”
Good advice—he may not even appear. If he did—she’d worry about Claire’s reaction if and when.
Even rushing, Annie was still late, and sheepishly tapped on the glass door of The Wiche’s Broom.
“I was starting to worry,” Claire said as she let Annie in. “I know you got too little sleep.”
“Enough. Sorry, I was delayed on my way home. What can I do?” She steered the conversation away from her delay as fast as possible. Damn—she didn’t even mean to mention it. Brain fry never allowed for good decisions. “Did you have everything we need for the—what do we call it? Not an exorcism.”
“Break the loop, pull her out of the moment of her murder. What happens after that, we won’t know until it happens. Which means we have to be prepared for several possible scenarios.”
“Let me guess—you have a list.”
Claire flashed her a smile, color creeping into her cheeks. “I do. Lists help keep me organized.”
“Hey, no need to justify yourself to me. I think lists are great—they just make me feel guilty for all the stuff I haven’t done yet.”
Claire took her arm and headed to the back of the store. “You have been using lists all wrong if that is the result. We can work on it.” She stopped at the round table, which was covered with piles, each one neatly labeled. “This what I’ve gathered so far. We are missing a few components, which will mean a stop at The Witch’s Way.”
“Can I take some aspirin now? Her patchouli addiction gives me a headache every time I go in there.”
Claire’s laughter made her smile. “It is a bit much, I agree. Her over scented shop is one of the reasons I chose simple lavender for mine.”
“Good choice. I felt calm the second I walked in. Can we go now and get it over with? I know she opens early on Sundays, probably because you don’t.”
“After two years of sitting alone in the shop on Sunday mornings, I found that opening early did not suit my business plan.”
“Don’t ever repeat that in front of Madame Serena.”
Claire winked at her. “Never. I enjoy my good hearing.”
>
It was Annie’s turn to laugh. Madame Serena had a loud voice, and a temper that could send even Mildred scurrying for the door.
“If you have your list ready, let’s get this over with, so I have time to recover before we head to the Sutherland mansion.”
“Is there something I’m missing here, Annie?”
“Not really. I just—well,” Annie picked at the edge of the tablecloth. “Last time I was there I criticized one of her displays, not aware that she stood right behind me.”
“Ouch. You can wait outside, if you like.”
“No—I’ll go in, face the dragon.”
“I admire that. You are braver than I would be in the same circumstance.”
Annie looked up, meeting Claire’s eyes. “I’ve never met anyone who keeps so calm in the middle of a crisis. When Daniel showed up like that—if I’d been alone, I would have run screaming like a little girl.”
“Thank you.” She stood, looking flustered. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah.” Annie followed her to the front of the store, and touched her shoulder when they reached the counter. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have much—experience with compliments. I have lived a solitary life, and—I am not trying to make excuses, simply explain why I may be uncomfortable if you do offer me such a thing.”
“That thing was the truth, Claire. Get used to it, because I have a lousy poker face, and I’m a worse liar.”
Claire looked up at her, amusement in those unique, silver blue eyes. “I will remember that.” She picked up the black bag and swung the strap over her shoulder. “Thank you, for your honest speaking. I find it refreshing, especially after days of dealing with customers like Mildred.”
Annie rolled her eyes and followed Claire out of the store. “That woman is going to set herself on fire someday, then come in and blame you for selling her the candle she used for the spell.”
“I would worry, if she had enough power to set herself on fire. I am afraid the only way she would manage that would be to fall on the candle.”
“Oh, God—don’t tell me she has any power.”
“A touch, most likely passed down to her from her Irish ancestors. Not enough for her to do anything, thank the heavens.”
Annie pressed one hand to her chest. “You nearly gave me heart failure. That woman, with power—I’d be leaving the state.”
Claire’s laughter was like a gift, especially now that Annie knew she didn’t do it that often. That was going to change, because as far as Annie was concerned, Claire just found her first friend in Santa Luna.
They reached The Witch’s Way, and Annie took a deep breath of fresh air before following Claire inside. Patchouli assaulted her, worse than she remembered. Hopefully, what they needed was near the front of the store, and easy to find.
All hope fizzled when Madame Serena came stalking around the corner.
“Claire Wiche, what are you doing here? Oh, that’s right, you open later on Sunday.”
Before Madame Serena could throw insults, Claire smiled at her. “I am in need of a few items. Things I don’t normally carry, and I am hoping you have them in stock.”
“What?” Madame Serena looked suspicious, arms crossed over her impressive cleavage.
“Here you are.” Claire handed her a list, and waited politely while she studied it, her face scrunched up. “Anything you might have will be greatly appreciated.”
“What—so you can hike the price and sell them in your precious little shop? I don’t think so.” She balled up the list and threw it at Claire—who caught it mid-air, without even looking at it. Madame Serena stepped back, her eyes wide. “Get out, Wiche, before I call the police and have you hauled out.”
“I would ask one question before I go. What have I done to deserve your animosity?”
Madame Serena crowded her against the wall, her bulk practically smothering Claire’s slender frame. “You came out of nowhere, and opened that—place, and you think I wouldn’t be bitter? You stole my customers!”
Those customers had started gathering, drawn by her screeching. Annie moved to Madame Serena, using her superior height to her advantage. “Step back, or you’ll be the one hauled in for assault. I have my high school sweetheart, and now police lieutenant, on speed dial.” She waved her phone. “Give me a reason, Agatha.”
Madame Serena’s face reddened when Annie used her real name, a little tidbit she learned from her former sweetheart after Madame Serena, AKA Agatha Mosheim, lodged an overblown complaint with the police. One that put her on their problem citizen list.
“Get out of my store. And don’t you dare come back. Get out!”
Annie grabbed Claire’s arm and pulled her to the door. She recognized the look on Claire’s face—a quiet fury that would probably explode with only a little more finger poking. It was better to drag her out before that explosion happened.
Once they were outside, she let go and backed away, not sure how Claire would react. After a few deep breaths, Claire pushed hair off her still flushed face and met Annie’s eyes.
“Thank you. I was about to lose control in there.”
“Got that. Why the hell did she snap like that?”
“I’m afraid the street fair this past August may have tipped her.” Claire pinched the bridge of her nose. “I was very selective with the items I sold at my booth, and they turned out to be quite popular.”
“Wait—you had those crystal pendants that everyone was raving about, didn’t you? I didn’t go.” She was too busy sleeping through the days, after burying her parents. “But several of the instructors at the yoga studio did, and all they could talk about was the cute booth with the amazing pendants and charms. That was you.”
“Madame Serena crammed every surface of her booth, and I watched many of her potential customers walk away, frustrated because they couldn’t find anything. Unfortunately, we were right across from each other, so she witnessed my successful sales firsthand.”
“She’s been the reigning queen of the supernatural for so long, having you quietly show up and outshine her would sting.”
“It was never meant that way.”
“Hey, I know that.” She slung her arm over Claire’s hunched shoulders. “You’re a class act, Claire Wiche. Any idiot can see that.”
“Thank you, I think.” She took another deep breath, and stepped back. “Let’s head over to the mansion.”
“We’re in this together, Claire. Got that?”
“I believe it’s sinking in.” She flashed a smile and headed for the coast road. “I think it’s better if we walk over.”
“And leave no suspicious car out front.”
“Nice to know we’re on the same page.”
They talked about everything from favorite foods to horror stories of past apartments, and sooner than Annie expected, they stood in front of the Sutherland mansion.
No one had lived here since the last Sutherland died, more than thirty years ago. Whoever inherited the mansion had left it to sit, probably with the least amount of maintenance they could get away with and not be fined. So it was standing, and the landscaping looked surprisingly well tended, but it had to have decades of dust everywhere. And decades of bugs.
“Ready?” Claire looked over at her.
Annie seemed to be answering that question a lot lately. Maybe it was time to be ready, to start living her life again. Mom and Dad would blister her ears if they knew she’d been hiding away from the world because of them.
She took a deep breath. “Ready.”
They walked up the long, wide sidewalk, and Annie stared down at the beautiful, huge stone pavers. They were chipped in places, but otherwise, they looked like they had been as well maintained as the landscape. She looked up, discovering she had fallen behind, and rushed to join Claire at the bottom of the porch.
Cold air slapped her, and she understood why Claire had stopped.
“Daniel.” Claire did not
sound happy. She climbed the steps to the porch. “I told you to stay away until tonight.”
He glided out of the shadows, the black double doors visible through him. “I had to see her. It has been so many years, too many to count, since I have seen her before she was murdered.”
“Why haven’t you come before now?”
“The way was closed to me. But you, Claire, you have opened it, by acknowledging me, by stepping across the line drawn by her suffering.”
“You can’t be here, not until the time of her murder—”
“I have watched her die, over and over, every year since her murder, and I cannot bear to watch her suffer again. Will you help me?”
“How is it that you have never seen her killer’s face?”
“The coward wears a cloak, and a deep hood conceals their face.”
“Claire.” Annie joined her on the porch. “If Daniel’s seen the murder every year since she was killed—”
“The murderer died before the next Halloween. We can look that up, narrow the possible list of suspects we may face. But first,” she turned back to Daniel. “I want to see the crime scene.”
“This way.”
He turned, and raised his hand. Annie jumped when the double doors swung open, her heart still pounding as she followed Claire inside.
The mansion was more beautiful than she expected, the furniture and floors dust free.
“How—”
“I suspect the last cleaning was recent,” Claire whispered. She kept her gaze on Daniel. “It’s the two hundred year anniversary of the murder.”
“God—I hope that doesn’t give our killer ghost some kind of power boost.”
“Annie.” Claire stopped, her face so serious that Annie knew it was bad news. “Every time this murder played out, it has made the ghost stronger.”
“Shit.” She ran one hand through her hair. “Holy shit.”
“Exactly.”
They started walking through the spacious foyer, until Daniel froze in front of the portrait that hung above a narrow, obviously expensive table. The woman looked like she was in her early thirties, with a heart-shaped face, and a tumble of dark brown curls that fell to her narrow waist. She wore a simple gown, and was breathtaking.