by CC Dragon
“That’s okay. Better to know before than after. Brody is a good guy. He wouldn’t want you to turn into a housewife from the fifties,” I joked.
“I know that in my head but how do you really know? How can you be sure what someone feels or thinks deep down?” Ivy asked.
I wanted to tell her an answer and make it better but love wasn’t something someone else could tell you was true or not.
“You just know how you feel and trust the other person. But you have to block out everyone else’s opinions, no matter how well-intentioned. People outside the relationship are sometimes just checking in on you but that doubt they introduce can fester if you’re not clear on what you want.”
“If doubt can grow about a relationship, can it be the right relationship?” Ivy asked.
“People get cold feet. Everyone makes mistakes. You never know the future, even me. I don’t know my future but you were always trying to get me to live in the moment and enjoy. So if you weren’t feeling the joy of getting married—maybe it’s not right for you. Maybe Brody isn’t right for you. That’s fine. Please don’t go down the Eli spiral or join Greg in whatever he’s doing,” I said.
Ivy smiled. “No, I wanted to be loved so much that I jumped in with both feet and then—Eli. I need to be back to me. Okay on my own. Running the bar and helping you. I missed that.”
“I missed you, too. You do need to talk to Brody,” I said.
She nodded. “I will. Will you be there with me?”
“Of course, if you want. He’s been helping with the bar a lot,” I said.
“He didn’t freak out and cut off ties with all of you?” Ivy asked.
“No, he moved into Paul’s apartment. Kept his job at the rehab and helped out more while we were traveling. I know he’s not some knight on a white horse. You like fairytales and flash,” I said.
Ivy wagged a finger at me. “Don’t analyze me. I get that he’s good and reliable.”
“Why don’t we go get out nails done and chat?” I suggested.
“That’s a plan. You drive.” She downed her wine. “We’ll talk to Brody tonight. I called the club and Brody is working tonight.”
“Sounds good.” It was such a relief to have my old friend back. I pulled the Holy Water out of my pocket. “One thing.”
“De.”
I spritzed her and she didn’t sizzle or curse at me. I nodded.
“Wait until you see the lingerie I brought you back from Paris,” she threatened.
“Thanks.” I laughed.
“It’s very naughty,” Ivy said.
I rolled my eyes at her. “I’m married. Only Paul is going to see me in it so the level of naughtiness is irrelevant.”
“Marriage is boring, see?” Ivy said.
“Boring or free of judgment? Some people like shaking things up and rebelling and some of us are just boring and happy with that. Now get in the car, my nails are a wreck.” I put the wine away. “I’ll brief you on my weird case while we drive.”
That night everyone was at the Long and Big Easy gay bar. I hadn’t been there in a while but the staff was great. Brody and Ivy were better qualified than me at running the place.
Paul, Matt, and Gunner were there as well.
“I think that case of yours is mostly attention seeking. Someone might die but I bet it’s someone old. They’ll blame the banshee and get views, try to push through the reality TV deal but probably have near misses, too,” Ivy began.
“And those will probably be caught on camera,” I added.
Ivy nodded. “Hype.”
“You might be the one who saves them,” Paul commented.
“There are a lot of kids around. I just hate the idea that one of them might get hurt. If they stage something, it could go wrong,” I said.
“Not on you, you can’t control them. Publicity stunts are nothing new,” Matt offered.
We sat in the back booth. I’d texted Greg to join us but he’d insisted he had plans.
“Brody is here, right?” Ivy asked.
“I’ll find him,” Paul said.
“Gonna sing tonight?” I teased Ivy.
She blushed, shook her head, and adjusted her feather boa. She’d gone all out in a dress covered in Eiffel towers, high heels, and higher hair, but the glittery black feather boa was the signature piece.
“Don’t pressure her,” Matt said.
Paul returned to the table. “Brody is doing some inventory. He’ll be out in a bit.”
Ivy looked around. “I’ll just go back there. Privacy is probably a good thing.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yep, no chaperone or witnesses needed.” Ivy stood calmly and walked across the dance floor, getting hugs and kisses on the cheek along the way.
“She’ll be fine,” Paul said. “Brody isn’t pissed or in a mood.”
I smiled at him. “I’m just glad she’s back. Having her so far away was nerve-wracking.”
“We should research the MacLands. Any family members sick in the hospital or very old...this might be staged,” Paul said.
I nodded. “It’s not. I mean, they might have staged a near miss but some of the family heard the cry.”
“What if the cry was staged?” Gunner asked.
I shook my head. “The banshee is avoiding me. If there was nothing to find, that’d feel differently. I need to go there.”
“The research can’t hurt though,” Matt said.
“Sure. They’re playing a calculated game but I’ll win.” I took a drink of my specialty cocktail and hoped Ivy would emerge soon. I had too many people to worry about right now.
Chapter Eight
Early morning phone calls meant trouble. This time it was Matt.
“Hello,” I said.
“There has been a death on the MacLand’s boat. I thought you’d want to know,” he said.
“Great. I didn’t see a thing, no visions or warnings.” I looked around at Greg’s creepy room. “Can you send the info to Gunner? We’ll be right there.”
“Sure will. See you soon,” he said.
“Thanks.” I hung up and rolled over. Paul was half awake.
“Looks like I’ve neglected the case. I have to go.” I slipped out of bed.
Paul sat up. “De, no blaming yourself. This is a weird case. Banshees don’t necessarily only warn for a murder or criminal death.”
“I know, but some of the family are really afraid and I want to help, if I can.” I sighed. “People are so complicated.”
“If you need help,” he offered.
I leaned over and kissed him. “I’m fine. Just need coffee and to get a handle on this ghost. The real story, not the attention seekers.”
Half an hour later, we were on a boat near the scene of the crime. Matt was on shore.
“They said it was easier by boat,” I called to Matt.
He nodded. “But we have to get all the body parts. Gator got him.”
“Who is it?” I asked.
“George. His friends said they were out drinking and George fell overboard. They couldn’t get to him fast enough so they went for help,” Matt said.
“Wow. You sound sure it was an accident,” I replied. The bloody pieces were being brought in by net. I did my best not to look.
He nodded. “Teens drinking. The guys are shocked and shook.”
“Okay, then I’m no help to you here. I’m going to head back to the house. The family is there?” I asked.
“With some officers, yes. Are you sure you should?” Matt asked.
I frowned. “I need to talk with someone. The banshee isn’t here right now. Maybe it’ll be near the family.”
A boat trip and a short drive later and I was at that weird big shack again. This time there was no welcome party from the family.
“Who do you want to talk to?” Gunner asked.
“Mary Jo, I can’t bug the parents,” I said.
I sat at a patio table on the front lawn. It never ceased to amaze me
how cities could have such extreme differences so close together. Mansions and barely livable wooden structures weren’t that far from each other.
Mary Jo walked out of the house with two glasses of iced tea. “You’re late if you want to warn us.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t get a warning on this. I think it was an actual accident,” I said.
“Of course, it was. Boys will be boys. George was nearly eighteen. He thought he knew everything about the bayou, the world, and gator hunting. His father went out drinking on the boat plenty of times. George thought he could handle it,” Mary Jo said.
I nodded. “But it’s still dangerous. Illegal, actually.”
She glared at me. I wasn’t helping.
“Sorry, I have been trying to get in touch with this banshee. This ghost from your family. I don’t believe she’s causing things so getting rid of her won’t change what happens.” I wasn’t clear how best to help them.
“You think we’re looking for attention. I don’t want to be on a TV show but they’ve been working on this for a long time. They’re not going to stop now. Getting paid to do what they do and just have camera crews film it...how can I object?” she asked.
“I’m not saying it’s all bad but I don’t want to be on your videos. I don’t want to be part of selling your show. I don’t sense anyone in your family is possessed or out to commit murder. I’m not sure what I can do,” I admitted.
“Deaths happen.” She nodded. “The banshee scares my kids. Makes the boys talk about which of them will die like it’s a joke. Now their uncle is gone. It’s not your fault or mine. Or LeeAnn’s. But she’s not helping anyone. Make her stop.”
“Do you ever see her?” I asked.
“Glimpses. Like the corner of your eye. She’s not my ancestor. The men are in a dangerous profession. George was a risk-taker and showoff. I want that ghost to stop scaring my kids. Flo is still a kid herself. It only makes it worse. Why would LeeAnn do that?” Mary Jo asked.
I shrugged. “She probably thinks she’s helping or warning people. I don’t know exactly. I’ve never met a banshee.”
“I’ve prayed for her to stop. It’s like she’s mocking us.” Mary Jo shook her head.
“She died young. Perhaps she just resents those who got to live?” I suggested.
Mary Jo sipped her tea. “I don’t care. My job is to protect my family now. I can’t help her. She died before I was born. I could never have helped her. No one alive could have any responsibility in whatever hurt her.”
“She’s afraid of being forgotten,” I said to myself.
“I want to curse her. No one lives forever,” Mary Jo said.
“Were the kids afraid of her last time she showed up? It seems like the fear piece is new. Butch doesn’t seem afraid,” I pointed out.
Mary Jo frowned. “I think the kids were too little to understand it last time. My kids at least. George and Flo, no, they didn’t have any fear. Flo saw LeeAnn back then, too. But younger kids aren’t as fearful. Once they’re older and understand what others see and don’t, it scares them to be different.”
“Has Flo tried to talk to LeeAnn?”
“She’s tried but the banshee never talks. Just shrieks. We are seeing her more this time. Just glimpses but she never showed up this much, not that I know of,” she explained.
“Maybe she is doing something different? I’ll try to contact her. I don’t feel like she’s here right now. Tracking a spirit down isn’t a science. They can dodge and avoid me and it sounds like she wants to keep on messing with your family. Getting attention. I’ll do my best.” What else could I offer?
Mary Jo smiled. “Thank you. I have a funeral to plan now. This isn’t anyone’s fault but don’t tell me the banshee is wrong. One death proves the warning. I pray it’s just the one.”
“Me too. I’ll be in touch,” I said.
Something in the back of my mind said there would be another.
Chapter Nine
I arrived home with every intention of going straight to the angel room and having one of them track down LeeAnn so that I could visit her. I was good with directions and could track the ghost even if she kept moving; however, having angels meant they could at least let me know if the ghost was semi-cooperative.
Ghosts still had free will like humans and if she wanted to avoid me and conversations about the family, I couldn’t force her. I could only try to corner her and hand her over to the angel of Death.
I didn’t expect to find Paul pacing in the dining room.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“How was the crime scene?” He changed the subject.
I shrugged. “Accidental death. Teenagers drinking on boats on gator-filled waters, not smart.”
“Clearly. Progress with the family?” he asked.
I sat at the table. “No, they’re grieving and believing the banshee warning is true. Which I suppose it is now. Hopefully it’s just the one death. I don’t get why they’re so afraid this time. It’s like the ghost is taunting them somehow.”
“Publicity?” he asked.
“For some maybe, but I believe that the banshee is acting differently. If she is a warning of death, why wasn’t she there? Mourning with her family? She’s avoiding me, and I need to get the angels on it. One can track her down and stick with her. Maybe tell me if she’s avoiding me for a reason,” I replied.
“Don’t let me stop you,” he said.
I frowned. “You’re obviously upset about something. You’re here in the middle of the day pacing. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing like death, accidental or otherwise.” He waved it off.
Folding my arms, I leaned back in the chair. “If I don’t make time for my husband, we’re going to be a messed-up couple fast. There is always death and demons around me.”
Paul smiled sardonically. “Brody quit. The bar and the rehab. No notice. He came in and got his things, said he couldn’t do it anymore. He can’t handle being around Ivy again.”
“What? They just talked last night. Ivy said it all went well.” I pulled out my phone.
“I was there at the bar. I heard her. Brody stayed in the back working, which worried me but there’s plenty of work to do in a busy bar.” Paul shrugged.
I texted Ivy: We need to talk. What really went down with Brody?
Ivy: not now
I texted Greg: Where is Ivy?
Greg: Your house. Why?
“Greg is texting, that’s something. He says Ivy is here.” I closed my eyes and felt through all the rooms. She was in her room. All the new construction workers distracted me.
“I haven’t been upstairs. I’m not trying to confront her. I just needed to walk away from the rehab,” Paul said.
I texted Greg: Ivy and Brody’s talk went bad. They broke up and it was ugly. She said nothing. You?
Greg: Nothing about Brody. OMW
“What does OMW mean in text speak?” I asked.
“On my way,” Paul chuckled.
“You’re the one working with the kids in rehab all day. I’m not that hip,” I said.
“Very not hip but I love you anyway,” Paul said.
“Y0u need to hire someone for the front desk of the rehab. The bar is Ivy’s problem,” I said.
Paul nodded. “I can promote the other receptionist to full-time. But we need someone to fill in and work weekends. They were splitting the hours. I have a few leads to hiring. Luckily, a lot of docs are volunteering to help—they’re covering the patient work right now.”
“You need to leave this to the manager,” I said.
“No, I need to be sure the right person is on the front desk,” he said.
“Trust your gut. I’m going to check on Ivy,” I said.
One the second floor, I dodged construction workers and the rumbling of the ghosts trapped in the attic. They weren’t happy about the construction but they were locked up there for a reason. The angels would make sure the supernatural containment held.
/> I knocked on Ivy’s door and it went very quiet inside.
“Ivy, I know you’re there. I know. Let me know,” I said.
“Fine.” She opened the door. “I didn’t want to fail again.”
“You can’t fail.” I hugged her and nudged her back into the room where the prying eyes of nosy workers couldn’t make things worse. “There are some pretty hot guys working on Frankie’s crew.”
“De!” Ivy laughed.
“Why didn’t you tell us what really happened?” I asked as I sat on her bed.
She shrugged. “I didn’t handle the wedding well. I said all the wrong things to Brody. I care about him but he’s so sure. I’m not ready to jump off a cliff with him.”
“Marriage isn’t exactly jumping off a cliff.” I wasn’t sold on the metaphor.
“But that’s how it feels to me. Not like an adventure together but like I might die if I do it wrong. It has to be wrong.” She grabbed another tissue and blew her nose.
Her makeup was half cried off.
“I’m sorry. Did he push marriage again?” I asked.
Ivy looked in the mirror. “I’m a mess.” She yanked out a package of wipes and began removing all her makeup.
“Stop dodging. Greg is headed over. Brody has quit both rehab and helping at the bar. I think he’s moving too.”
Ivy yanked off her wig and tossed it across the room.
“Sorry, I thought it might help to know he really did feel as strongly. It wasn’t to make you feel bad or punish you. He probably won’t be around anymore. You both need some space.” I’d been dealing with demons and angels so much my human shrink game was lacking.
“It’s good. We just had counted on him. The group.” Ivy went into her closet.
A few minutes later she came out in jeans and a T-shirt. I never thought of myself as unfeminine—my look was functional for climbing through haunted homes or trudging around a bayou—but Ivy in jeans and a T-shirt.
No jewels, no makeup. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen her like that but it was odd.
“You’re still you. One bad relationship doesn’t change that.” I hugged her.
“It wasn’t bad. It just wasn’t good enough,” Ivy whispered.
