by Debra Dunbar
I saw a muscle twitch in Rick’s jaw. “Would the choices the spirit made reflect on me as far as where I went in my afterlife? I’ve never believed in an afterlife before, but I suddenly find myself re-evaluating my beliefs and I want to make sure if the worst happens I won’t be condemned to an eternity in hell because some asshole of a spirit decides to go do a bunch of horrific shit in my body.”
Russell eyed Rick with an odd intensity. “I’m not a priest, nor am I privy to the criteria for judgement, but I believe that you would not be held accountable for actions you had no control over. I’m sure Aria would know better than I would about that sort of thing.”
My eyebrows shot up. I wasn’t a priest, I was a weapon of God. “I’m not in a position to comment authoritatively on that sort of thing. I’m a Templar. Redemption and forgiveness and judgement are between you and God, but a priest or reverend may be able to guide you in that.”
Rick looked at the table, tracing a line of grain with a fingernail as he thought. “Okay. I’ll risk it. I don’t want to be a powerless observer of my own life. I’d rather take the chance of eternal damnation and at least know I made an effort to be a master of my own destiny.”
“Then we’ll proceed.” Russell put a little metal pot on the table and placed a chunk of resin in it along with a piece of charcoal, then set it alight. Instantly the room was filled with the scent of pine and eucalyptus. The necromancer placed his hands on the table and began to chant in a language that wasn’t familiar to me, and I knew six languages in addition to smatterings of twelve others typically used in magical dealings. The smoke from the resin coalesced and spiraled upward in a circling line of white. The room darkened, backlit with a dim golden-red glow.
Suddenly Rick’s eyes widened, his head tilting to the side.
“My name is Edward Kelley and I have knowledge and gifts to present to the world.” Rick’s voice took on a higher-pitched and a British accent.
My mind raced through all the texts I’d read. My father’s teachings had mainly been with supernatural creatures and their habitats and behaviors, but at an early age I’d been intrigued with magic and had studied not just the Templar blessings and banishments, but illusions, charms, and hexes. And my short time with Haul Du had brought in increased knowledge of demonology and summoning,
I recognized the name Edward Kelley, but couldn’t quite place it.
“If you allow me in, I will grant you the knowledge of alchemy as well as a connection with the divine and interpretation of the Enochian language.”
I rolled my eyes and Russell shook his head.
“Why have you crossed the veil and attempted to take possession of this body?” Russell asked.
The spirit laughed. “Because the opportunity presented itself. A doorway opened, a pathway to this vessel was made clear. Many spirits hovered near, sensing the doorway was about to open, but I was the fortunate one who made it through first.”
Russell frowned. “Spirit workers call forth a specific being, and normally they channel it through their own bodies. I don’t understand this, unless the mages knew that this man had sympathetic energies aligned in such a way that would make him an appropriate vessel. But why go to all that trouble and not limit which spirit could use the doorway?”
I shrugged. “Maybe they screwed up?”
“If so, then they’re not skilled in the magics of the spirit world,” Russell scoffed. “That’s basic stuff.”
Maybe they weren’t. Chuck had been a member of Fiore Noir, but was more than just a death mage. Many higher-level mages crossed disciplines, and magical disciplines often had overlap. The Goetic mages of Haul Du had some rituals in common with necromancers, and blood magic had crossover with death magic. Perhaps these mages were generalists, and didn’t have the skill to draw only their intended spirit through the veil.
If so, then what they were doing was even more dangerous than I’d originally thought. Anyone could come through and possess a body, and maybe not just human spirits either. The thought of a high-level demon given human form and unfettered access to this world made me shiver.
“Bring me across and I will show you the future and the past. I speak with the angels, and can deliver word of the divine. Just let me complete my journey and take this body.”
I turned to Russell, my eyebrows raised.
“Edward Kelley, you have no claim to this body. Your possession is only temporary.”
The spirit laughed. “I’ve been summoned before to give my wisdom and direction to rank practitioners. I’ve been allowed to talk through a medium, a channel. This is different. A door opened, and this body was prepared to receive a spirit as a host. Permanently. For as long as this body shall live.”
“Then why are you and Rick both in this body?” I asked. “Why is this host able to overcome your possession and retain autonomy?”
The spirit scowled. “They didn’t kill him first. If his spirit had left his form, then I would have had full access to the body.”
A chill swept through me at his words. Did these mages realize their mistake? Would they kill Liz and try again with her? Why the Dimonds? And who were they trying to resurrect if not this guy who was residing in Rick’s body?
Suddenly I remembered who Edward Kelley was. “Weren’t you the sixteenth century occultist who proclaimed that swinging and sharing wives was some sort of divine proclamation? And didn’t you end up in jail because you couldn’t or wouldn’t reveal your divine mysteries to your patron, the Pope?”
Rick, aka Edward Kelley, squirmed. “He was not suitable to receive divine proclamations.”
“The Pope was not suitable to receive divine proclamations?” I scoffed. “You’re a hack. How you managed to squeeze through the veil and into this physical form is beyond me.”
Kelley shifted angrily in his chair. “There is a gap, and a beam of light. Many of us were drawn to it, knowing it was an opportunity to cross the veil and live life anew. If those stupid mages hadn’t screwed it up, I would have taken this body. They weren’t specific enough in their ritual and the physical form was available to whoever could cross the veil and assume ownership. I was first. I pushed my way to the forefront, but those fools didn’t widen the gap sufficiently. I have gifts to give this world. I can grant you knowledge and abilities, if only you allow me to fully cross the veil.”
I struggled to keep from scoffing. This guy was an idiot. And from what I’d learned in my lessons, he was far from skilled. Snake oil. Charlatan. The dude had nothing but smoke and mirrors to share.
“Can you send him back across the veil?” I asked Russell. “Can you get him to leave Rick’s body and never return?”
“No!” Kelley howled.
Russell nodded. “Thankfully, I can. If he had been fully across the veil, then I wouldn’t have been able to send him back, or to even oust him from Rick’s body.”
The necromancer began pulling crystals from a box, setting amethyst, hematite, tourmaline, and citrine on the table. Kelley shoved back his chair, trying to flee the room, but I was ready for him. Grabbing him from behind, I kicked his legs out in front of him one at a time and used my weight to force him back down into the chair.
Russell rearranged the crystals removing a few more hematite stones and placing them in a line.
“Can you hurry a little?” I grunted as Kelley thrashed around and landed a sharp elbow in my stomach.
The necromancer seemed satisfied with the crystals because he took a sage bundle from the table and lit it on the charcoal, waving the smoke toward Kelley with a feather as the smudge stick burned.
Kelley fought harder and we both fell to the floor, the chair wedged between us. My shoulder hit hard, the arm going slightly numb. Kelley took advantage and squirmed free, so I jumped on top of him, trying to pin him to the floor.
Russell chanted something that sounded like “Gaaan swortie moo.” I took another elbow to the stomach and strongly considered bashing Kelley’s head against the floor. The onl
y thing stopping me was that it was actually Rick’s head and the poor guy had been through enough without my having to beat the snot out of him while he was being possessed by a psycho spirit.
“Moo. Moo. Mooooo.”
I laughed, because the oddity of cow noises being used to banish a possessing spirit back across the veil was pretty darned funny. Either the cow noises, or the heavy odor of sage was working because Kelley stilled, his protests growing fainter. The body beneath me convulsed and I got up, positioning myself near the door just in case Kelley was faking it.
“What…what happened?” Rick moaned, reaching a hand to his forehead. “Why am I on the floor? And what is that smell? Is that pot? Is someone smoking pot?”
“Sage.” Russell put the smudge stick in the black metal pot and clamped a lid over top of it, waving his hands around to dispel the smoke. “The spirit of Edward Kelley is no longer in you and has been returned to the other side of the veil.”
Rick staggered to his feet, righting the chair as I rubbed where he, or rather Kelley, had elbowed me.
“I feel… I don’t feel his presence any longer, but I still don’t feel right.”
I shot Russell a warning glance. “I’m sure you’ll feel better soon. You must be exhausted from this whole thing. Why don’t I drive you back to the hotel, and I’ll check in on you later?”
Rick nodded, rubbing his forehead again. “I…I’ll wait in the car for you.”
He wasn’t walking steady, so I helped him out, got him settled, then came back in to grab my purse and have a quick word with Russell.
“He’s going to have dreams,” the necromancer immediately informed me. “That Edward Kelley was in far deeper than any possession I’ve ever seen before. There will be an imprint, and that will never go away.”
“He won’t go crazy though, will he?” I glanced out the door to where Rick sat in my car.
Russell lifted his hands. “I don’t know. His friends and family will think he’s different, changed.”
The man had been kidnapped, drugged, subjected to medical procedures, and possessed. Even without the possession, I didn’t think anyone could go through that and still be the same.
“Is there anything I can do to help him?” I asked.
Russell looked at me, his expression grim. “Pray.”
Chapter 22
“Can I have a copy of that?”
After a few revisions, the police sketch artist had a rendition that I felt looked somewhat like the blonde woman I’d seen Rick with at the Ottobar. Of course, I’d been pretty tipsy, it had been dark in the club, and I’d only caught a few glimpses of her when she wasn’t plastered to Rick dancing, or trying to swallow his tongue by the bathrooms.
“Sure.” Tremelay nodded to the sketch artist who went off to make copies. “I’m going to send one over to Janice.”
I bit back a smile. “Actually cooperating with the press for once? Goodness, is hell freezing over? Pigs swooping down Lombard Street with the pigeons?”
He ignored my teasing comment. “We’re going to put out that this woman is a possible witness, just to encourage people to come forward.”
It made sense. All we really knew right now was that she was probably the last person to have been with Rick before his kidnapping. Whether she was involved or not was speculation—although I couldn’t believe the woman would be innocent in all this. Rick wasn’t a heavy drinker. I was positive someone had drugged him, and this blonde was top of my suspect list. At best, she’d been paid to drug Rick and lure him out. At worst, she was actually in league with these people.
“We got the homeowner’s permission to search that house in Woodberry,” Tremelay went on, handing me the copy of the sketch and walking me out of the station. “We’re meeting her sister in a few hours to let us in. Seems that the lawn service was legit, but she didn’t have cleaners nor someone coming to water the plants, and she’s upset that someone may have used her house for criminal activity. Not concerned enough to fly back from St. Thomas, but concerned.”
“I’m heading over to the hospital to see Kyra now that I’ve got Rick’s permission and see if there’s anything medically from his hospital stay that might yield some clues,” I told him. “I’ll call you if I find anything out.”
“Likewise.” Tremelay touched his forehead in a salute and headed toward his car as I went the opposite direction to where I’d parked.
It didn’t take long to drive to the hospital, park, and make my way up the elevator to the floor where Kyra said she was making rounds today. After asking a few people for directions, I found her coming out of a patient’s room, discussing something with one of the nurses.
I held back until she was done, then waved to get her attention. With a smile, she motioned me into a sitting area, closing the door behind her.
“I’m hoping you’ve got more on Rick Dimond,” I commented. “Your dad is making some progress on finding who may have kidnapped the man, but if there’s something in his medical records that can give us a hint of why these people targeted him and his sister, it would help.
“There’s really not much beyond what I already told you.” Kyra sat down and pulled up the files on her tablet. “He was disoriented in the emergency room, so we took vitals and drew blood. First thought was a potential overdose or possible psychiatric case. He freaked about the needles, which is unusual for addicts, but could have been due to drugs. Pupils were normal and responsive. Blood pressure and pulse was a little high but nothing alarming. There was some bruising on his chest, wrists, and legs. Needle marks on the inside of both arms. Patient denied drug use or prior psychiatric history. Patient claims he was kidnapped and subjected to medical experimentation by people in surgical masks. Patient says they put a ghost inside him and that he’s currently possessed by this ghost.”
I grimaced, surprised that Kyra had taken the man seriously enough to come see me.
“He was dehydrated, so we administered fluids. After the initial panic over the needles, the patient calmed down and was cooperative. At the one hour check, the patient was lucid but continued to claim possession. Possible psychiatric hold pending assessment.” Kyra scrolled a few pages on her tablet. “General assessment shows patient is not a risk to himself or others and is okay to be released. Oh—bloodwork came in. Hmm, this is odd.”
“What?” I leaned toward Kyra, eyeing the tablet although I was pretty sure I wouldn’t understand any of the medicalese on the report.
“Patient history shows blood type is O-positive, but the bloodwork revealed what we call a mixed field. There was O-positive, but with significant traces of another blood type. I wonder if he’d had a recent transfusion? Needle transfer wouldn’t show up like this, so it would have to be significant. But a transfusion of enough blood to show up on the test would usually be because the patient was a trauma case, and this man wasn’t.”
“Medical experimentation,” I mused. Rick had been right, only the transfusion wasn’t medical experimentation, it was most likely to facilitate a magical rite. Did resurrection involve a blood transfusion? Was there significance to the type of blood, or who it came from? And did there need to be something specific about the host body/recipient?
Russell didn’t know but Chuck might. I took a deep breath, thinking that I might need to once again pick up that spoon in my kitchen drawer.
“O-null.” Kyra shook her head. “That’s an incredibly rare blood type. There’s a databank of donors that we call on for emergencies because these rare types aren’t readily available in blood banks. I wonder how they got O-null and why he received a transfusion?”
I knew. And I could barely speak from the shock of puzzle pieces snapping together in my brain. “Call your dad. Tell him the cases are connected. The O-null homicide and Rick. Tell him what you told me. They’re connected, and I might know why. I just have to talk to a spoon first.”
“What?” Kyra wrinkled her nose.
“Call your dad and tell him.” I grabbed my c
oat and dashed for the doorway. “And thanks, Kyra. Thanks.”
“Okay.”
Her voice trailed after me as I ran down the hall, thinking furiously. O-null blood. And something about Rick and Liz Dimond. Rick said he’d heard them talking, that they’d botched it somehow, and Edward Kelley had agreed. They’d gotten the wrong spirit, and Kelley hadn’t come all the way across the veil.
Who were they trying to resurrect? And would we be too late to save Liz?
I tore around a corner, dodging a cart and nearly colliding with a woman wearing a pantsuit, a stethoscope around her neck and a tablet in her hand.
“Ooo, sorry. I’m so sorry.” I held up both hands, taking a step backward before looking up at her face.
I might not have recognized her had I not just spent an hour with a sketch artist trying to recollect her face. It was the blonde woman who’d been making out with Rick at the club Tuesday night—the one who I suspected might have been involved in his drugging and abduction.
Her somewhat irritated expression made it clear that she hadn’t recognized me. I saw her eyes narrow as she stepped to the side.
“Slow it down. This isn’t a racetrack,” she snapped before continuing briskly down the hall.
I turned to follow her, lagging behind far enough to hopefully seem just another hospital visitor. I wasn’t sure what to do. I could hardly confront her and end up tossed out by security. There were hundreds of doctors here, though. There was no way if I lost her that we’d be able to find out who she was. She might not even work at the hospital, but could be here for some sort of consult.
I had to find out who she was. Liz’s life depended on it.
The woman entered an elevator, and I hesitated. I’d practically run her over. If I darted into the elevator with her, she’d know I was following her and I was pretty sure my next move would be getting thrown out by security. Frustrated, I watched the doors close.
