“It sure looks like Pebbles Ross,” someone said.
“That’s impossible!” a man standing beside the woman argued as he shook his head.
“And why is that?” Reginald asked.
“Pebbles Ross has been dead for years,” the woman answered.
Chapter Seven
Ryan and I were still preoccupied with the mystery of everything that happened during the last hour: the stolen sword, the grieving woman, the invisible woman, and time we couldn’t account for. And now suspecting the sword thief might be a ghost? I wasn’t sure how much more my addled brain could handle. Especially on just one cup of coffee.
I excused myself to the ladies’ room because I needed a break. I needed some me time, even if only a few minutes. I breathed a sigh of relief as I opened the bathroom door and noticed I was alone. Going for the first stall, I opened the stall door and fastened it behind me.
What the hell was going on? I thought as I stared at the back of the bathroom door. I didn’t have any answers so I had to swallow down my mounting feelings of frustration. It’s no fun having numerous questions and no answers.
Just as I started turning around, in order to take care of business, it felt like I was encapsulated by a cold wind. It whipped around me, chilling me to the core, and holding me in place. I was so stiff, I couldn’t move or make a sound. An instant or so later, my eyelids shut of their own accord and I was accosted by images I didn’t expect.
I took a deep breath and forced myself to pay attention to the scene unfolding before my eyes. Even though I didn’t understand what was happening, I sensed whatever I was seeing was something I needed to see.
The image that began to take shape behind my eyes was that of a woman.
She was walking the palm-shaded streets and magnolia-scented alleys where the lunchtime crowd had gathered in the French Quarter. She wore a black top hat, beaded necklaces of various colors, and a long cape, but her eccentric appearance attracted little notice in a town famed for its Mardi Gras revelers. She didn’t seem to mind the lack of attention, however. Nonchalantly chewing on a licorice wand from a bundle she held in her hands, she was glaring at the crowds filling the sidewalks and patios with the air of someone who held all humankind in contempt.
Passing a sandwich shop, she tossed the licorice wand through the open door and continued on her way without varying her pace. She didn’t pause at the screams that followed approximately twenty seconds later, when the patrons noticed a writhing, hissing water moccasin where the licorice wand landed just a moment before. Passing the entrance to a sports bar and grill, she flung another wand through the door onto the linoleum tiles, where it trembled and twisted as it came to reptilian life. Every restaurant, every bar, every store she passed, the same ritual was repeated: she tossed a wand, or two, or three, into the midst of the crowd, smiling to herself as its effects were heard moments later all the way down the block.
And just like that, the images blanched from my mind’s eye and I found myself looking at the inside of my eyelids. I opened my eyes and blinked a few times as I took a few deep breaths and noticed I could move my arms again. The cold air that surrounded me was noticeably absent and the humidity coming from the open window above gave me a much welcomed hug.
I threw open the stall door and hightailed it out of the restroom as quickly as I could. I had no idea what came over me or who the woman in my vision was, but I did know one thing: I no longer wanted to be alone.
###
Once we were on our way to Lovie’s, Ryan and I started arguing about the events at the museum. We left just as the police were arriving. I gave a brief statement in which I said I hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary before coming downstairs and learning the sword had been stolen. I didn’t mention anything about the weird vision I had in the bathroom. Not even to Ryan. But that was only because he took offense to what I said to the cops.
“It wasn’t strictly a lie,” I said, needing to defend myself. “It’s—”
“A lie,” he interrupted. “There’s no getting around that. You lied. To the police.”
“Well, what was I supposed to do?” I asked. “When you’re a sensitive, you learn really quickly that there are certain things you don’t tell the police. Like things having everything to do with ghosts.”
“A lie is a lie.”
I tapped my feet resolutely and sighed as I glanced outside the window and watched the scenery flying by in blobs of color. “You’d have done the same thing in my position.”
“I was in the same position and I didn’t lie.” He was quiet for a few seconds. “I told them what happened. That there was something otherworldly going on.”
“And you think they believed you?”
He shrugged. “It’s hard to argue something that twenty other people are also saying. And the police seemed mighty interested in the photos that young girl showed them on her phone. Especially when one of the cops recognized the kid as a victim in that car accident the woman mentioned.”
I cleared my throat but didn’t say anything.
“And then when they questioned you, you didn’t tell the truth, which basically contradicted everything I just told them, suggesting I’m not a credible witness at best, and that I’m crazy at worst.”
“Well, I’m sorry. In general, police aren’t really interested in hearing about the occult.”
“The truth is the truth, Peyton.”
A tense silence descended over the truck as I pondered whether the events in the lobby, and in the third-floor conference room and the vision I had in the bathroom were all connected. What I couldn’t get past was the expression on the face of the woman in mourning. It was that look of certainty that she’d seen us before. The way she described the conversation we presumably shared with an unnerving degree of specificity. She’d just appeared so… convinced.
“What are you so busy thinking about?” Ryan asked as he glanced over.
I sighed. “That woman who was crying.”
“What about her?”
I shook my head. “I just keep wracking my brain, trying to understand how it’s possible that we could have been talking to her and some other woman without any recollection of either ever taking place.” I took a breath. “And then I keep worrying about the woman we couldn’t see—the one I was sure was in the room with us all the time.”
I thought about describing the vision I had in the bathroom, but I was more than sure he’d wave it away as nothing more than my overactive imagination. And that was the last thing I needed to hear right now. At that moment, there was nothing I wanted more than Drake inside my head. He would understand because he would have experienced the same vision with me. And even if he didn’t, he would have understood anyway. Because that’s just how Drake was.
He got me.
“Has it occurred to you that maybe we’re looking at this the wrong way?” asked Ryan.
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be worried about the woman you couldn’t see, but the one you could.”
“Explain?” I asked, still feeling tetchy from our previous disagreement.
“I mean we’re assuming that some invisible woman modified your memory,” he started.
“Not just my memory.”
“Okay, mine too. Someone neither of us remembers seeing or talking to.”
“If you’re going to say it was all a load of crap, you can save your breath,” I said, not meaning to sound so rude, but achieving it, all the same.
“No, I’m just saying I wouldn’t rule out the lady in black yet.”
“The one in mourning?”
He nodded. “Maybe she’s the one who tampered with our memories?”
I cocked my head to the side as I considered his point. I couldn’t rule anything out. Anything was fair game. “I think we just have to be okay that we don’t have answers… not yet anyway.”
Ryan nodded. “I still have so many questions about that memorial service. Why
was that woman there to begin with? Who was inside the coffin? Why was no one else there with her? Did you even see a body in the coffin?”
I couldn’t remember seeing one, now that he mentioned it, although I hadn’t been looking particularly closely. From the second I saw the coffin I was eager to leave. “Ryan, there are times when your distrust of everyone does you credit,” I said with a smile as I reached over and patted his thigh.
We pulled up in front of Lovie’s house, a two-story stucco building with vibrant green shutters and marigolds planted in the flower beds. A stray dog was nosing around the rhododendrons that bordered the edge of the property. It ran forward to greet us when we emerged from the car, as if we were old friends.
I already texted Lovie to let her know we were coming over and asked if I could borrow some of her Tincture of Nepenthe. Now she came striding out of the house in a silk gray and gold kimono, sipping from a glass of sweet tea with a long straw.
“Ryan and Peyton! So good to see you both! Are you hungry?” she asked, enveloping us both in a warm hug.
“We’re actually in a hurry, Lovie,” Ryan answered.
She waved him away with an unconcerned hand. “You can’t turn down an offer of my Crawfish Etouffee.”
“It’s my favorite,” Ryan admitted.
I smiled at her. “We don’t have time to stop for lunch, Lovie,” I said. “My cousin is on her way from the airport to my house as we speak.”
“Lunch another time then,” Lovie said as she opened the door wider and we walked inside.
“Yes, definitely,” I answered.
As she led us up the stairs and into the living room, Lovie asked, “Have you been following the news for the past hour? There must be something in the water this morning.”
“We were there,” I said with an enthusiastic nod.
“There?” Lovie asked.
“We were at the museum when the sword was stolen,” Ryan added.
“Museum?” Lovie asked blankly. “Seems like there’s more in the water than I thought!”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“There are reports all over the news about an oddly dressed woman who was throwing live water moccasins into various dining establishments.”
I felt my heart drop and then speed up until it was beating so hard, I thought I might pass out.
“Throwing water moccasins?” Ryan asked with a shrug as we followed Lovie into her kitchen. “How’s that possible? Moccasins are venomous.”
“I’m well aware of that, Ryan,” Lovie answered with a pronounced smile as she looked at me and laughed. She had a soft spot for Ryan and his logic but sometimes he amused her, all the same. “An’ I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for you.”
“What else did the news say?” I asked, finally able to find my voice.
“There’s only one suspect, but witnesses are givin’ conflictin’ statements,” Lovie responded in her singsong voice. “Some say she was throwin’ snakes, others say she was holdin’ licorice wands.”
There was a bad taste in the back of my throat. I sat at the kitchen table and took a few deep breaths.
“Seems like they would be able to tell the difference,” said Ryan, shaking his head. “Between a snake and a piece of licorice.”
I glanced out of the large bay window that overlooked her broad backyard. Then I returned my attention to Lovie who reached into the cabinets. She produced a few plates and set them down on the granite countertop.
“Did the witnesses say the licorice wand turned into a snake?” I asked, my voice softer.
Lovie faced me in surprise. “That’s exactly what they were saying!”
“How’d you know that?” Ryan asked.
I just shrugged.
“Sounds pretty crazy to me,” Ryan said as Lovie dished him up some of her Crawfish Etoufee and he eagerly tasted an enormous mouthful. Yes, it wasn’t lost on me that I said we didn’t have time for lunch but Lovie insisted on feeding us anyway. Sometimes that was just how Southern hospitality worked—you received it anyway.
“Wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened,” said Lovie.
“What do you mean?” Ryan asked between mouthfuls. I looked down at my plate, but I already lost my appetite.
“Remember the story of Moses and the magicians of Egypt?” Lovie asked.
Ryan shook his head. “I’ve gotta admit I mostly messed around during Bible study as a kid.”
Lovie smiled at him in an understanding way. “Moses’s staff turned into a snake and ate the snakes of the other magicians.”
“I don’t think Moses was carrying around a bundle of licorice,” I replied.
“No, he wasn’t.”
I nodded as I glanced down at my plate. All I could do was push the Etoufee around with my spoon.
“Peyton?” Lovie asked as she studied me. “Is everything okay?”
“Maybe and maybe not,” I answered as Ryan looked over at me. “I had a vision of that woman,” I started and Ryan looked surprised.
“When?” he asked, and his expression was slightly irritated.
“When I went to the bathroom after we met with Reginald,” I answered.
“A vision?” Lovie asked.
I nodded. “And in it, I saw exactly what you just described. A woman walking down the street throwing licorice sticks into restaurants. Licorice sticks that turned into live snakes.”
Lovie’s eyes went wide for a split second but then she regained her usual casual demeanor. “The spirits must have been trying to tell you something.”
“About what?” I asked.
Lovie shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” Ryan asked me, more annoyed.
“I intended to… I guess I was a little shaken up by it.”
He didn’t say anything else, but I could tell he was bothered that I didn’t say anything to him. I was more than sure I’d hear about it later. But for now, I was relieved that we couldn’t get into it.
“Yes, I believe there’s somethin’ in the water,” Lovie repeated as she glanced out the window and nodded to herself.
“Or the air,” said Ryan.
Ryan went on to tell Lovie about our morning at the museum, beginning with the grieving woman’s unseemly wailing and ending with the ghostly theft in the lobby.
“Ryan thinks the two events might be connected,” I said, “but I’m not so sure yet. Just because they happened at the same time, in the same place—”
“Snake lady happened this mornin’, too,” said Lovie.
“Maybe they’re all connected,” said Ryan.
“Anyway,” I said. “We’ll know more once we figure out who we were talking to in the conference room, and what she wanted, and why she wiped our memories blank.”
“Tincture of Nepenthe should help,” Lovie said. Then she stood up and started for her cupboard. When she opened it, a strange smell emanated through the air. It reminded me of the scent of wet earth. Inside the cabinet were all sorts of vials of tinctures and powders and a few unrecognizable things that were hanging from the top of the cupboard. Reaching in, Lovie produced a small tinted vial that resembled an eyedropper.
“There was a period of two or three days where my body lived in this corporeal realm, but my spirit existed in another dimension,” Lovie started.
“What does that mean?” Ryan asked.
“I wasn’t here, but I was here,” Lovie answered, and Ryan appeared more confused. “My mind was somewhere else, but my body was here. Anyway, once I returned to this dimension, I had no memory of where I’d been or what I’d been doing for the past two days—which was terrifying—so I took Nepenthe to refresh my memory.”
“And it worked?” asked Ryan.
“Like a charm.” Lovie smiled and poured herself another glass of tea from the pitcher.
“So where were you?” I asked.
“I remembered having a rather nasty disagreement with Christopher,” she started.
Christopher was a warlock who worked with Lovie closely on various cases. He wasn’t exactly the warm and friendly sort. I could understand how she had a disagreement with him because “disagreeable” was a word that described him extremely well.
“After our disagreement, we didn’t talk for a day or so,” Lovie went on with a pronounced sigh. “And then Christopher visited me in a dream, and he apologized.”
“What?” I asked. Christopher apologizing wasn’t exactly true to character.
“Are you sure he really apologized?” Ryan asked. “Maybe you just dreamt it. I can’t imagine Christopher being anything but surly.”
Lovie laughed as she shook her head. “No, he did apologize, but then he must have thought better of it because he attempted to wipe my memory with a charm and did it so exceedingly well, that I lost track of two full days.”
She shrugged and tasted the tea in her glass before making a sour expression and pouring four more spoonfuls of sugar into the pitcher. One of the hardest things for a newcomer to understand about life in Louisiana was everyone’s universal addiction to the sweet tea.
“Will the Nepenthe work against all enchantments?” I asked warily. “I don’t know the level of power we’re dealing with here, but it wouldn’t surprise me if this mystery woman used some sort of spell or charm to block our memories from being retrieved.”
“The Nepenthe is strong and I’ve seen it work wonders numerous times,” Lovie reassured us. She didn’t exactly answer my question but I figured it was the closest thing to an answer I was going to get.
After we finished our Etouffee, well, after Ryan finished his, Lovie poured a teaspoonful of the tincture into two small glasses and handed them to each of us. I glanced at Ryan, smiling hesitantly before I downed it. It tasted like a mix between cherry cough syrup and what I imagined dish soap would taste like.
“How do you feel?” Lovie asked.
“Okay so far,” I answered.
But something started happening.
For a moment, the room seemed to ripple, as if the molecules underpinning reality were becoming unstable and beginning to wobble. Maybe I was hallucinating but I thought I saw subtle changes in the room: a flowerpot moved two inches to the left, a cookie jar that was in the shape of a panda now had the shape of a rooster, and over everything was a greenish tint. Then the room itself began to fade, slowly at first. And another landscape took its place.
If You've Got It, Haunt It: A ghost romance (The Peyton Clark Series Book 4) Page 7