by T. G. Ayer
“And what happens if I just leave this place? We can’t stay here forever you know?” The thought was more than terrifying. Wasn’t it bad enough that I was haunted by a poltergeist?
Natasha shrugged and glanced over her shoulder at the book. “I guess we’ll have to just wait and see. I suspect the book will follow you.”
“Huh? Like if I go home, it’ll just appear on my doorstep?” I found that strangely easy to believe despite the sound of incredulity in my voice.
“Something like that. I’m not entirely sure how it works.” She faced the street again, staring down at the crowd that passed. There was some sort of parade happening, something I was told was a common enough occurrence. Music drifted up from the street, banjos and clarinets and saxophones, all joining in a melodious harmony that was both haunting and joyous.
In the distance, lightning forked in the dark night, silvery streaks of light brightening the sky for an instant.
I was glad I was up in the loft, away from the throng of bodies and the incessant noise. I’d never been good with crowds, having always disliked the pushing and shoving, the lack of personal space, the inability to go in my own direction, being forced to be part of the crowd and follow a leader.
As I stared down into the street, I caught sight of someone looking up at me. The man was thin and tall, his features gaunt and almost skeletal. His eyes were dark, and a shadow fell upon him, making them darker. When his lips curled up into a smile, I gasped.
“What is it?” asked Natasha, her voice low.
“The man in the crowd,” I said, not taking my eyes off him. “Dark red suit, black fedora, black cane. He’s looking up here, and he just smiled at me. He made eye contact.”
Natasha frowned. “I thought the windows were one way only.”
“Exactly,” I said staring down at him. “He’d wanted me to see him, wanted me to know that he knows where I am hiding out.”
“I don’t see him, Mel,” Natasha said, sounding more than afraid now.
I didn’t need to hear her voice to be afraid. All I needed to do was look at him to know deep down that I recognized him.
And that I had seen him not too long ago.
The shape of his chin and jaws, the look of his mouth with his wide smile filled with teeth. All I could see in my mind’s eye was a vision of bloodstained teeth and lips as he consumed the body parts of three innocent young women.
* * *
“Why’s everyone looking so glum?” asked Drake as he entered bearing three bags of supplies.
I glanced away from the window. I’d been standing there, staring down into the crowd for the last thirty minutes even though the warlock was long gone.
He’d had the audacity to show me his face. And to me, that translated into a blatant message. I’ve shown you who I am. I’ve shown you I know where you live. I can find you whenever I want.
Drake’s jaw remained slack as we gave him a quick rundown.
“What the actual fuck.”
“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up,” said Natasha, her complexion pale. The pair was still showing signs of discomfort in each other’s company, but this latest turn of events was certainly taking their mind off their own personal issues.
“Now what?” asked Drake, more to himself than anyone else.
I went to the window again and stared outside, wrapping my hands around my waist. My thigh throbbed and I had to be careful of how closely I held myself as the abdomen wound was still a tangle of pain.
I sighed slowly. “We have to find him, but doing it won’t be easy. If he is living in a different dimension, then I have a feeling that what I saw at the property wasn’t actually down that well.”
“You could have received an inter-dimensional call. Something that helped you make the connection between this world and his.” Natasha sounded more sure of her theory than I was.
I turned and sat on the edge of the window sill. “But how? Does he want me to see him? To know who he is?” It was confusing, this cat-and-mouse game he was playing with me.
“That’s possible.” Natasha pursed her lips. “Or it could just be that the intensity of the emotional trauma of the three women combined was enough to bridge the gap between the two planes.”
I nodded. “A bridge between the two worlds.” I mulled over that for a few seconds. The terror and agony the trio of victims would have experienced would have been powerful enough to rent the veil and create a bridge. I understood the concept, but it was still a leap of assumption on our part. Still, all we had was assumption. Until the witch-doctor decided to reveal his goals and motivations to me. “And if it was accidental, then why did he come find me?”
Drake came to stand beside me. “Perhaps he sensed the link and followed, or maybe he knew already, given the attack.”
“It just makes no sense,” I whispered. “I really need to get this done and over with. I only have a few more days.”
“What do you mean?” Natasha’s voice sharpened.
I sighed. “It’s Saleem. He needs our help, but I can’t go to Mithras if I’m weak. I need to be rid of this possession which means we need to figure this witch-doctor out fast. It’s no longer just my life on the line anymore.”
“So Saleem contacted you?” asked Drake as he unpacked two boxes that turned out to be blow-up beds. He’d been thinking ahead, and oddly I was glad. The thin mattress I’d been using hadn’t been in the least bit comfortable.
“Yes. But he didn’t follow the usual channels.” I smirked at the look of confusion on his face.
“So?” He raised both brows, urging me to enlighten him.
“He visited me in a dream.”
“Oh.” Drake looked more confused. Frowning, he proceeded to pump the first bed up using a foot pump.
“Yeah, I was a bit confused at first too. I thought it was a dream as well. But it felt real, and he mentioned specifics and details that I’m pretty sure my mind wouldn’t be able to conjure as part of a dream.”
Drake’s expression cleared as he put it together
He was nodding when Natasha spoke. “You’re traveling even though you are consciously stopping it,” she said softly. “Your subconscious won’t obey, so it travels while you’re unaware.”
I blinked, tears filling my eyes with such a sudden rush that I was immediately overwhelmed.
I let out a keening cry, feeling the emotion like a kick to the gut and felt my knees give way. “Samuel,” I cried out the name, understanding with a sudden rush of grief what the dream of Samuel had meant.
I’d thought it was a dream, an unconscious desire to see him again that had conjured up an image of him, one in which he was healthy and thriving and smiling. But it wasn’t a dream. He’d come to say goodbye, come to tell me that things were about to change forever.
Neither Drake nor Natasha questioned me then. Natasha curved her arms around me and held me until I’d run out of tears. She understood. There was no need for words or explanations.
Drake sat beside me too, rubbing my back every few minutes. He’d never been the most in touch with his emotional side, and I didn’t need words from him anyway. I was just glad he was with me, that he’d come back when he had.
There was a tiny part of me that wondered if I could have been mistaken about Samuel. But I recognized it as wishful thinking, the need to put everything back neatly into their places, to maintain some semblance of order in my life even as it continued to fall apart.
My instinct, every fiber of my being, knew the truth.
Samuel was dead.
Chapter 27
When I’d spent my tears, my mood shifted to one of action. I needed to see Samuel. I knew he was dead, knew what I’d see when I got to his house, but I had to be there. To say goodbye, perhaps. I still didn’t have it clear in my mind as to my motivations.
I was shoving clothing into my rucksack with a passion that didn’t fit the action, with Natasha and Drake hovering around me.
“I don’t thin
k this is wise,” Natasha said softly. Her tone implied she was dealing with something unpredictable, the way a person would coax a deer closer, or whisper to a wild horse.
I threw her a glance, then ignored her. Thankfully, my phone vibrated, and I checked the messages. Kai was looking for me, needing my help on something that she wouldn’t yet elaborate on.
In the midst of my crazy day, a visit to Kailin Odel wasn’t exactly expected but given my life, it was pretty much par for the course. Kai needing help meant something was going wrong big time.
I replied, promising a visit and ballparked three hours as a timeframe. I’d go see her after visiting with Samuel.
I was tucking my phone back into my jeans pocket when Natasha repeated her words, this time her voice holding a deeper level of concern.
Sighing, I turned back to her and said, “What could possibly be a good enough reason to stop me from going?”
“That.” Natasha glanced over my shoulder at the book which had remained unmoving on the floor in front of the window. I’d moved my mattress a few feet away from the creepy book, but it hadn’t made much of a difference to how it made me feel. My skin still crawled constantly, as though fire ants raced across my body, sinking their white-hot teeth into me.
Did fire-ants have teeth?
I focused on Natasha as she shook her head. “I think leaving is a bad idea.”
“You think it’ll follow me even if I’m gone for a short period?”
“I don’t really know. It isn’t like there’s a manual around somewhere.” She sighed as though she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. She did. My world. “All I can do is guess, and the danger we are facing is that it’s entirely possible that when you leave New Orleans, the book will follow you.”
I shrugged. “If that happens, I will just bring it back.”
Natasha shook her head, her eyes flashing. “No. It’s not going to be that easy. We need to consider the possibility that the book is still linked to the warlock.”
I frowned as I mulled over her words. “Even though it seems to be linked to me now?” She’d managed to slow me down, to pull me from my frantic need to run off and see Samuel.
“Yes.” She nodded slowly. “I think it’s fair to say we do not understand exactly how the link between the book and its owner works. But for some reason, it seems to have honed in on you. I wonder if there is any possibility that it has not yet made a final choice between the two of you.”
I didn’t like being lumped into a box with the witch-doctor, but I did—unfortunately—understand exactly what Natasha was trying to say. “And you believe that if I leave right now and that if the book does follow me, it will be making a choice between me and the witch-doctor.” I began to pace. “And we do need to retain the link that we currently have with him in order to make it easier to track him.”
Drake grunted. “Could be how the bastard found you in the first place.” Drake glared at nothing in particular. “That link between him and the book must be something he can also detect.”
I leaned against the counter, considering the argument. “Yeah. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.” I let out a sigh and pushed off the sofa. My throat was still tight, my eyes still gritty from crying. But the throbbing of my wounds was enough to remind what path I was on. I pushed off the counter and stood, spine straight. “What do you need from me?”
Drake cleared his throat. “If the book is linked to you, my guess is that it connects itself to the master in a biological way, like in blood or hair; things that would be used for a spell.”
Natasha was nodding, and I could almost see her weighing the merits of the idea in her head. “I agree. That makes sense in terms of other means of connection.”
“Well, let’s just hope that the book doesn’t attach itself to heartbeats.” My words were dry, and I almost flinched when Samuel’s face flickered in my mind.
“I don’t think so. There has to be some kind of magic that can be performed without having to kill the master,” Natasha said with a smile.
I inhaled sharply. “So I’m guessing you need blood and hair?” I was well aware of what was needed. I just hoped that I still had enough blood left in my body in order to donate.
Natasha nodded. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“Everything changes, and yet everything stays the same.”
Chapter 28
I’d sliced my palm and filled half a glass with blood for the book. Then I’d proceeded to provide Natasha with a few strands of my hair, a decidedly less painful offering which I was happy to supply.
Natasha had also required a few fingernail cuttings, just to be on the safe side. She’d explained that all epidermal tissue that contained DNA featured regularly in African Black Magic. I’d provided her with cuttings, taking care to avoid the damaged nail beds which had thankfully given me little problem over the last day or so.
Stepping away, I traced the small round Band-Aid Natasha had stuck on my palm. I sure hoped I didn’t have any more reason to part with the good stuff.
“For how long do you think the blood will work?” I asked as Natasha set the glass of blood, and the velvet sachet containing my hair and nails, near the book.
“Probably only until the blood cools down. Warmth would imply life, so I presume cold blood will give the book the heads up that its master is dead. So you have about half a day.”
I nodded and grabbed my jacket. “I’ll let you know if I run into any delays, but I’m not expecting to be longer than it takes to see Samuel and…” I hesitated, unsure if I should be sharing any information about my visit with Kai. She tended to be involved in top-secret stuff, and though she knew Drake and Natasha, I didn’t presume to trust them with her secrets. “And I have an errand to run.”
Neither questioned the errand, and I projected to ensure the coast was clear then gave the pair a brief wave. I jumped to Samuel’s front reception room, choosing a quieter location to arrive in. I had no idea if the announcement had been made, or if mourners would already be turning up to pay their respects.
I materialized in the silent room that smelled of dusty tapestry and lemon-oil furniture polish, arriving on unsteady feet. My knees wobbled, and the room spun, and I grabbed the arm of the nearest wing-back chair.
As my body tilted forward, I winced at the stabbing of pain in my abdomen and thigh. It was odd that both the wounds still hurt, despite what a good job Drake had done doctoring them. I gritted my teeth and ignored the pain, straightening my spine as I prepared to exit the room. Pausing at the door for a moment, I smoothed down the front of my deep pink silk blouse, my one courtesy to the solemnity of the day. The Fontaines were fancy folk, so it was best not to look like something the cat had just dragged in.
Jacket in hand, I exited the room to find the front hall silent. The door sat open, bracketing by giant sprays of white bouquets filled with roses, baby’s breath, carnations, and lilies—all flowers Samuel hated.
He’d always brought a smile to my lips with his strange dislike of the scent of flowers. He’d often claimed they gave him hay-fever, and hives—Samuel had never suffered from either condition in his life.
Flowers decorated every spare corner as well as the landings at the top of the stairs, and as I passed, I walked through a wall of fragrance. I reached the top of the stairs to find Samuel’s door standing open.
The room was filled with light, too much light for such a dark occasion. He lay motionless on his bed, the covers pulled up neatly, his hands lying on his chest, clasped together as if he held something precious within his grasp.
This room too was decorated with flowers although the wide-open patio doors relieved some of the cloying sweetness. Matthew Fontaine, Samuel’s uncle, stood there in silence, his attention divided between the view outside and his nephew’s body.
“Hello Melisande,” he said after I’d had a short moment of quiet with Samuel. He walked toward me and gathered me up in his arms, giving me the kind of bear-hug his nephew wo
uld often bestow.
When he released me I smiled, a thin imitation of a smile. “I’m sorry I took so long to get here.”
Matthew frowned.
In explanation, I said, “I would have come sooner, I’ve just been out of town on a case.”
Matthew shook his head. “I have to admit I am a little confused. Samuel only passed this morning…only a few hours ago.”
Chapter 29
I sucked in a breath and turned to stare at Samuel. But it wasn’t surprising. Perhaps he knew beforehand—some astral travelers were talented enough to know the condition of their mortal bodies.
Perhaps there was something else afoot.
I swallowed and said, “He came to me in a dream. Or at least what I’d thought was a dream. But I found out too late that it had to have been real. I came as soon as I was able. I thought—”
“Thought what?” he asked gently. He came closer and put his arms around me. “Did you perhaps harbor some hope that you could save his life?”
I nodded, then shook my head. Then I let out a long breath. “I knew there was little chance of it, but a part of me still wanted to save him.” I let out a soft laugh. “Sounds illogical.”
“Not really.” Matthew smiled. “Not illogical at any rate. When the heart is involved, one’s actions speak more to one’s emotional quest than to what our mind knows is fact.”
I nodded, unsure what to say in response. He was right, but I didn’t really want to get into it then.
Matthew cleared his throat and lifted his arm away from me. He reached into his pocket and said, “This is for you. It’s been sitting in the garage gathering dust, and I’m sure Samuel would want someone to ensure the engine doesn’t rust and fall to pieces.” He handed me a set of keys—to Samuel’s Lexus. The one he’d bought a few weeks before he’d fallen into his mysterious coma.
I hesitated for a moment, then decided there was really no reason to refuse the car. It would end up being part of Samuel’s estate, and the Fontaines were loaded anyway. They could afford to give away one car.