by Lori Drake
“Didn’t see you jumping in to help,” I muttered. Hell, Trish hadn’t even been there for most of the conversation. At least, not that I’d noticed.
“I hope Catherine has another option for you.”
I took a long pull from my drink, then sighed. “Me too.”
Cat did not, in fact, have another option for me. She offered to do it herself, but I didn’t want to drag her to the crime scene with that cold of hers. The last thing I needed was another dead woman on my conscience. I spent the rest of the day investigating the old-fashioned way: asking the neighbors and the property manager questions and shaking down local spirits for any info they might be able to offer, but I came up empty. No one had seen or heard anything, not even the neighbor who’d shared an adjoining bedroom wall with Mindi.
I collected a small entourage of spirits over the course of the day. Some sought my assistance, while others simply milled about, trailing in my wake like puppies. Creepy, dead puppies. Again, Trish kept them at bay. It was kind of nice having a spectral bodyguard. If I'd been paying her, I would've bumped her salary. As it was, all I could do was thank her and ask for the hundred fiftieth time how I could help her cross over. She remained tight-lipped, as usual.
I was having a very late lunch—or very early dinner, take your pick—in a busy sports bar when my big break finally came. The headline under the carefully groomed local newscaster caught my eye.
Serial killer on the loose?
I put down my BLT and tuned in to the closed captions as the video shifted from the newsroom to a recorded press conference with the Chief of Police.
I'm unable to go into too many details about this ongoing investigation, but I can say that there are at least two victims: Twenty-four-year-old Kim Lee and twenty-six-year-old Mindi Masterson. Both were young, fit women, killed in a similar manner. Our detectives are pursuing several leads. Right now we advise the people of Seattle to not panic. Be vigilant and alert. Report any suspicious activity immediately to the police department. Anyone with information pertinent to these two deaths is urged to come forward. The Seattle PD remains committed to protecting the residents of Seattle and ensuring the perpetrator is caught.
As the Chief’s prepared remarks drew to a close, reporters shouted questions, but his answers followed the same vein as his statement, and the feed soon shifted back to the newsroom.
My mind raced. Had Mindi been victim number two or number one? Who was the other woman, and did she have anything in common with Mindi other than the manner of her death? I had a name and age, but that wasn't much to go on.
I left my half-eaten meal behind with enough cash to cover the bill and headed out.
“Trish, I need you.”
She materialized beside me, matching my stride as I headed down the street to where I'd parked. “Yes?”
“I need you to find Amber.”
“Are you sure that's a good idea?”
“No, but I don't have any others right now.”
“What's wrong?”
She touched my arm, and I jerked away instinctively. I was rattled. Off my game. “Just find her. Please. It's important.”
Trish gave me a hurt look but vanished. With her help, it didn’t take me long to track Amber down.
Amber lived in an apartment complex a few blocks from the coffee shop where we’d met. It consisted of two long, rectangular buildings with ample covered parking for residents and very little parking for visitors, but I managed to find a spot by the dumpster and followed Trish around to the front of building two and up the stairs to a third-floor apartment.
I knocked on the door she indicated and waited, but no one answered.
“Are you sure she’s in there?” I asked Trish.
“She’s in there.”
I knocked again, louder this time.
A voice called from the other side. “Go away!”
“Amber, please!” I stepped closer to the door, like that might help my voice penetrate the wood. “I just want to talk.”
“Use a phone, like a normal person!”
“Would you have answered?” Silence. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. Come on, Amber. It’s important. Lives are at stake.”
A pause followed before she unlocked the door and opened it a few inches, just enough to peer out with one suspicious green eye. “What do you mean, lives are at stake? I thought your client was already dead.”
I leaned a hand against the doorframe and met her eye. “She is, but it turns out there’s another victim. Same MO. This guy has killed twice, and he seems to have developed a taste for cutting on pretty girls. The police aren’t saying ‘serial killer’ out loud but… read between the lines.”
She opened the door a little wider, frowning. “If there’s a serial killer on the loose, the police have way more resources to deal with it than we do. We’ll just be getting in the way.”
“Do they have a witch who can decipher magic residues? Amber, if I’m right, this guy is more than they can handle.”
“And you think you can handle him?” Skepticism shone in her eyes.
I barked a laugh. “Hell, no. But if we confirm it’s a magic user, the coven will step in. Right?” Her chin dipped in a slight nod, and I pressed my advantage. “Please, Amber. I need you.”
Trish whistled between her teeth. “Laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?”
But Amber’s expression softened, and she sighed gustily before swinging the door fully open. “I’ll read the crime scene, but that’s it.”
“Thank you.” I smiled and took her unspoken invitation, stepping into her apartment.
The living room was tidy, one of those “place for everything, and everything in its place” kind of rooms. The furniture was mismatched and had a used but not used up air to it. I lifted a brow upon noticing the clear plastic slip covers over the sofa and armchair. If she was that concerned about dirt, why had she bought second-hand furniture? A chill lingered in the air, and after a moment’s consideration I decided to keep my jacket on.
I followed Amber over to the sofa and sat, plastic squeaking under me. As I did, I got my first good look at her since I’d arrived. She was wearing the same outfit she had earlier in the day, right down to the gloves.
“Is your heat out?” I asked. The ensemble seemed a bit much for indoor wear, but the chill in the air lingered even after the door was closed.
“No,” she said, tucking her hands under her arms as she sat. “I’ll need access to the crime scene, obviously. When do you want to do that?”
Movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention, but when I glanced that way, there was nothing there. I snapped my eyes back to Amber. “Are you busy, um, now?”
“Is something wrong?”
“No, just thought I saw something. A shy ghost, maybe. This is a nice apartment. How long have you lived here?”
Her eyes narrowed, and she cast a wary look around the room. “A few years.”
“It’s probably nothing to worry about. I’ve had a few spirits following me around today.”
I’d meant the words to be reassuring, but she didn’t look any less uncomfortable. “Does that happen a lot?”
“No, actually. It’s been a strange few days. But that’s neither here nor—”
The ghost in question picked that moment to manifest in front of me. Both she and her long white dress were soaked, eyes hollow and lips blue. She grabbed me by the neck, an utter lack of expression on her face as her hands tightened around my throat and squeezed. I was so startled that it took me a few precious seconds to react. I took hold of her thin but very solid wrists and tried to pry her hands away, but damn was she strong.
“Dean!” Trish’s voice seemed to echo across a long distance. She pounced on the other spirit, an arm going around the woman’s neck and yanking her back. The aggressive spirit’s fingers lost contact with my throat, and I fell back on the sofa with a gasp.
“Dean? What is it?” Amber was on the edge of her seat
, obviously confused.
Trish went flying across the room as the other spirit flung her off. The spirit rushed me again, and I threw myself backward over the couch, putting the furniture between me and her.
“Hey! No need to get aggro, let’s just talk this out.” I peeked over the back of the sofa.
Trish went barreling overhead, bowling the other spirit over. The two ghosts rolled around the on the floor, passing through furniture as they grappled, Trish cussing a blue streak in Spanish the whole time.
“Dean?” Amber called again, her voice strained.
“Hang tight, got a situation here.” Now, I like a good catfight as much as the next guy, but it’d been a long day and my patience was wearing thin. I straightened and rolled my shoulders. “Hey! You with the bad attitude!”
They froze. Miss Watery Grave happened to be on top. Her head snapped up, wet hair hanging around her face in a decidedly creepy manner. She said nothing, just opened her mouth and screamed. Flies poured out of her mouth, shooting right toward me en masse. I flung up a hand instinctively, and they were deflected as if from some invisible barrier. I stared at my hand. That was new. My attention returned to the watery she-bitch, who had ceased her assault and just glared at me with rage-filled eyes.
“Look, I’m a pretty easygoing guy but I’ve got my limits. Get lost.”
She screamed at me again, this time sans insects.
“Out!” Something unfurled inside me, and I swear I saw the air between me and the spirits ripple… and then they were gone. Both of them.
Relief twisted into alarm in an instant. “Trish?” I glanced around frantically. “Trish!”
My eyes caught on Amber, who was watching me with a look of borderline fascination and alarm.
“I get the distinct impression that I missed something,” she said.
I barely heard her. My hands went to my head, curling in my hair. Gripping. Pulling. What was happening to me? What had I done?
I owed Amber an explanation, but I wasn’t sure where to start. My mind was racing. So was my pulse. I let her guide me to sit on the plastic-covered sofa again and leaned forward with my elbows on my knees, head in hands. She settled beside me but kept her distance.
“I’m guessing the spirit got over its shyness,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“It attacked you.”
I sighed. “Yeah.” A dull ache settled behind my eyes. It reminded me of the migraine I’d had a few days prior, and I hoped it wasn’t returning.
“Is the spirit gone now?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Yeah.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you going to keep saying ‘yeah’ until I shut up?”
I stopped myself from saying it again. She didn’t deserve snark. Instead, I pulled myself upright and ran a hand over my face. I felt her eyes on me, knew there were more questions lurking there, but I couldn’t face them. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to freak out on you. I can take you to the crime scene later. It’s probably best to go late at night. We can slip in and out with no one the wiser.”
“Okay. How about tonight around eleven?”
“That works. I’ll pick you up.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Her brows drew together. “What if you get attacked again?”
She had a valid point. For every five friendly ghosts there was at least one batshit crazy one like the one I’d just encountered. I only sought out the friendly ones. The crazy ones, well, there wasn’t much I could do to help them. Now that they were coming to me, for whatever reason, I didn’t have the ability to pick and choose. I couldn’t say for certain that I wouldn’t encounter another unfriendly ghost, or that the one that’d attacked me wouldn’t come back. I almost hoped she would, because that would mean Trish could too.
“Usually the unfriendly ones keep their distance,” I said, reasoning with myself as well as her. “I don’t encounter ones like that very often.”
“But you’ve encountered her before.”
“No.”
She tilted her head. “But… you knew her name. Is that part of your gift?”
“Trish wasn’t the one who attacked me.”
“There was more than one?”
“Yes.” And there I was, back to the whole “Amber deserves an explanation” thing. “Trish is a friendly ghost. I’ve known her for a long time. She helped me fight off the aggressive one. Now they’re both gone.”
Her gaze turned thoughtful. Insightful. “Gone for now or gone forever?”
I offered her a smile I wasn’t really feeling. “I’ll let you know when I figure that out.”
“I hope your friend is okay.” She touched my arm, then jerked her hand away as if I might somehow contaminate her through her leather glove. I had the sudden mental image of her scrubbing the plastic sofa cover as soon as I was gone, and it was almost enough to bring a genuine smile to my lips.
“Me too.”
9
I had a good chunk of time to kill when I left Amber’s apartment, so I decided to go back to the house. It was a long, quiet ride. Just me and my headache. I tried reaching out to Trish, but she didn’t appear. Every minute that she was gone twisted my stomach a little bit more.
I turned over the day’s events again and again in my mind. What had I done? How had I deflected that spirit’s attack? How had I made both her and Trish vanish? Why hadn’t Trish come back? I had a lot of questions and exactly zero answers, which didn’t help the throbbing in my head.
By the time I reached the house, I was in an unusually foul temper. Fortunately, there was no one in the living room to bear the brunt of it. I took the stairs two at a time, heading for my room and the bottle of aspirin that sat on my dresser. I dry swallowed two pills and plopped down on the edge of the bed. The bag I’d packed the previous day sat on the chair by the door, reminding me of my aborted trip to Mexico. The desire to speak with my mentor surged, but there was no way I could make that happen—not until I’d dealt with the situation here. If the killer was supernatural, the cops were in over their heads. Hell, I was in over my head too, but there was no turning back. Not when more women might die. Not when at least one of them still lingered, lost and confused, looking to me to make things right.
The weight of that responsibility was a yoke around my neck, and I flopped back onto the bed with a sigh to stare up at the ceiling. It was going to be a late night. Maybe a bit of sleep would help with the headache? But my thoughts kept me awake. I kept thinking about that ghost from Amber’s apartment wrapping her cold, wet hands around my neck.
A quiet clinking sound pulled my thoughts back to the present a moment before Sadie jumped up onto the bed and ran up alongside my body to put her paws on my shoulder to lick my face. I brought my hands up in warding and pushed her away but gave her small body a few affectionate rubs. I’d never considered myself a dog person, but I’d been so wrapped up in spiritual affairs that I hadn’t had a chance to find her a new home. It couldn’t have been that she was growing on me. Nope.
I woke to barking a few hours later and opened my eyes to find the room considerably darker than it had been. Light spilled in from the hallway through the open door, enough that I was able to see what had Sadie so excited. It was Trish, standing in the middle of the room, looking down at the little dog while she danced around Trish’s insubstantial feet, tail wagging.
I sat bolt upright, relief flooding me. “Trish! Oh, thank God.”
Trish’s lips quirked in a smile. “Careful, Torres. I might start to think you missed me.”
I had no ready answer for that, so I hauled myself upright and crossed the room quickly to close the door. It wouldn’t do to have one of my keen-eared housemates overhear this conversation.
Once the door was closed, I leaned against it for good measure—not that it made any difference. By then, Sadie was sniffing the floor around Trish’s feet.
“What happened?” I asked, shift
ing my study to Trish. She looked the same as she had the last I’d seen her.
Trish crossed her arms. “I could ask you the same thing. There I was, wrestling the water nymph from hell and all of a sudden we were in the in-between.”
I pushed off the door and paced over to stand in front of her, keeping my voice low. “The in-between?”
“Yeah. You know, the spirit world.”
I’m sure I blinked. “The spirit world?”
She patted my cheek. “You’re lucky you’re pretty. You won’t get far on brains.”
I smacked her hand away and rolled my eyes. “Don’t patronize me. Isn’t the spirit world just layered on top of the physical plane? Harper says they’re closely connected, and that’s why ghosts can manifest in the physical world.”
“Sort of. It’s like… a reflection of the physical world, only there aren’t any people there. Just other ghosts. Haven’t you ever wondered where ghosts are when you can’t see them?”
I scratched my head. “Sure I have, I just figured that they weren’t manifesting at that given time. I mean, you usually manifest when I ask for you. Can you hear me from the in-between?”
She canted her head from side to side. “Eh… sort of. Let’s just say I know when you call for me. I’m not really aware of what’s going on in the physical world when I’m not here, and I can’t be here all the time. I have to go to the in-between to recharge.”
“Is that where Mindi’s been all day?”
“Yeah. She was a pussy when she was alive, and some things never change. She hasn’t stored up enough juice to put in another appearance, so she’s been sulking on the other side instead.”
“I can’t believe we’re just now having this conversation.” Shaking my head, I sat on the edge of the bed. “Wait, what about the ghost that attacked me? Is she still there?”
“Not sure. She fucked off shortly after we got there. Which brings me to the true question here: what the hell happened?”
I rubbed my temples. The headache was gone, but I didn’t like the conclusion this new information had brought me to. Sadie hopped up beside me again and laid her muzzle on my leg, looking up at me with her warm brown eyes. I rubbed her ears, glad for the distraction—however fleeting. “I think I banished you from the physical world.”