by Sonia Singh
“You’ll have to decide which of us to hire, now,” Scott said.
“Surely, Wilder, this ship is big enough for the both of us,” Vivica said with a creamy smile.
Coulter leaned forward in his chair. “What’s the big deal? Why don’t we go head to head with these fellas? Prove we’re better than them?”
“Going head to head with Vivica is more trouble than it’s worth,” Scott said.
Coulter shook his head. “You afraid of a little trouble? Shame on you.”
Vivica sidled up to Sly and laid a hand on his arm. “As I told you on the phone, perhaps it would be best if you leave this case to an actual parapsychologist and not a bunch of”—her voice dropped a notch—“amateurs.”
Anjali watched the conflicted emotions play over Scott’s face. She didn’t know the whole history between Scott and Vivica and she wasn’t going to do a little peek-and-dash into Scott’s mind just to find out. That would be rude. She wasn’t some mental Peeping Tom.
Scott looked at them and sighed. He turned around. “You’ve got a deal, Mr. Tullins. Now tell us about your ship.”
Sly waited until they were all seated before beginning his story. “As some of you may know, the USS Santa Perla was a troopship during World War II. In November of 1942, while performing routine maneuvers off the Irish coast, the Santa Perla sliced through a British cruiser. Almost four hundred British sailors drowned.”
“Jesus,” Coulter murmured. “Talk about friendly fire.”
Sly coughed. “Yes…well…after the war, the USS part of her name was dropped and the Santa Perla was converted into a luxury liner by my great-grandfather. On the inaugural voyage, a starlet, Mary Chestnut, found her beau in the arms of another woman. Mary was later found dead in the bathtub. She’d shot herself in the head.”
“I would have shot the beau,” Vivica said. “More than once.”
Sly glanced at her nervously and continued. “A few weeks after Mary Chestnut’s death, a fire in the boiler room caused the death of two engineers.”
“On the phone you mentioned the boiler room needs to be looked at,” Scott said. “But the electricians you’ve hired—”
“Can’t get near it.” Sly said. “As soon as one of the men reaches the bottom of the staircase he’s overwhelmed by a choking sensation and can’t go any farther. There are power surges, our computers constantly malfunction, and the bathroom of our most expensive suite is constantly overflowing with water.”
“Did you call a plumber?” Coulter asked.
Sly wasn’t amused. “To answer your question, Mr. Marshall, the top floor suites have been without water for fifty-odd years, the pipes have all rusted away.”
Coulter shivered. “Ooh. Spooky.”
Sly frowned and looked at Vivica, then Scott. “So what’s the plan? I need this ship fixed.”
“We’ll reconvene tonight,” Vivica said. “After I connect with one of my associates.”
Sly tugged on his tie. “I—I never said I’d stay on this ship at night.”
“Why, Mr. Tullins.” Anjali smiled sweetly. “Don’t you want to take part in our healthy competition?”
“I suppose…”
“Of course Sly will be there,” Vivica said smoothly. “He’ll see firsthand which team is capable of doing the job.”
Coulter winked at Vivica. “Until tonight…”
Vivica’s mouth tightened and she swept out of the room, trailed by her two men.
“Well, this should be interesting,” Anjali said. She turned to the guys. “Venckman, Egon, let’s go.”
“I suppose I’m Egon,” Scott said and followed them out.
32
Vivica glared at the three men. “What do you mean he’s gone?”
“His room’s empty. All his belongings are still there but he’s gone,” Gaspar said.
“Find him,” Vivica said. “Hurry!” The three men filed out.
Vivica picked up her coffee mug and threw it against the wall. Ceramic shards flew in the air as brown liquid seeped slowly down the wall. “Damn!”
Hans was missing. She had arranged for him to stay in one of the campus apartments. He showed up quietly at the lab every morning at eight for testing and left just as quietly at five. Considering the man had been living off scraps when she found him, the university apartment must have been a veritable oasis.
Why had he left?
Three hours later Hans was discovered at a local school carnival, curled up in the haunted house.
When Gaspar, Maddox, and Fitch came to claim him, they found Hans surrounded by firefighters. “He could have been killed,” one of the firemen said. “Someone set fire to several of the rides. Thank God none of the kids were here yet. We haven’t found out how the fires started though, no matches, nothing combustible to be found.”
Maddox cleared his throat. “Thank you, we’ll handle this.” He led Hans away; the two other men brought up the rear.
“We have to tell Vivica about the fires,” Gaspar said.
Hans walked straight ahead, gray eyes unblinking, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.
Immediately upon reaching the apartment, Hans fell into a deep sleep. It was obvious he wouldn’t be waking soon.
Vivica stared down at her protégé, her face angry. “Damn, damn, damn!”
“What do you want us to do?” Maddox asked.
“You stay here and watch Hans. Fitch and Gaspar will come with me. We’ll have to call Odina,” Vivica said, annoyed.
“Not her,” Fitch groaned.
“Definitely not her,” Gaspar chimed in.
Vivica turned on them. “What do you recommend? Do either of you have any psychic power I don’t know about?”
The two men stared down at their shoes.
“We have to hire Odina.” Vivica’s hands curled into fists. “Damn I hate mediums!” She stalked out of the room.
Gaspar glared at Maddox, who was smiling. “You lucky bastard.”
33
Promptly at eight o’clock, Scott, Anjali, and Coulter were in the dining room of the Santa Perla, waiting.
“I see dumb people,” Coulter said, staring out the window.
A few moments later Sly Tullins entered, followed by Vivica, two of her men, and a heavy-set middle-aged woman dressed in a flowing purple robe, with a beehive of yellow hair and at least three layers of makeup. Numerous rings winked and sparkled on her hands.
“So how are we going to do this?” Scott asked.
Sly was looking increasingly nervous as he gazed around the room. “I, ah, think I’ll flip a coin. The side that wins calls the shots.”
“Well isn’t this professional,” Scott mumbled.
“What’s the matter, Wilder?” Vivica sneered. “Afraid we’ll go first and win or you’ll go first and make a complete ass of yourself?”
“I think he’s more afraid you’ll sink your fangs into him and make him one of your undead,” Coulter said. Gaspar and Fitch glared at him.
Vivica turned to the heavy blond woman. “Odina, what do you think of the setting?”
Coulter snorted. “Odina?”
“We shall proceed,” Odina thundered. Sly jumped. “The spirits are restless.”
“Right.” Sly dug into his pocket, pulled out a coin, and flipped it in the air. “Call it!”
“Heads,” Vivica said quickly.
Scott shrugged. “Fine.”
Sly caught the quarter and slapped it on his palm. “Heads.”
“Excellent.” Vivica shot Scott a triumphant look.
“We will set up in the southeast corner of the room,” Odina ordered. “It is particularly conducive to contacting the spirits.”
Coulter rubbed his stomach. “I’m starving. Who do I have to contact to get some food?”
The lights were turned off, candles were lit. A platter of Fisherman’s Wharf sourdough bread had been placed in the center of the table. All eight of them sat around the table that had been stripped of the tablecloth a
nd prepared for the séance. “Join hands,” Odina commanded.
Anjali took hold of Scott and Coulter’s hands. Coulter sat next to Sly and grimaced when they joined hands. “Do you have to sweat so much?” he demanded.
Sly was next to Fitch, who didn’t look too happy about sitting next to Odina. On the other side of Odina were Vivica, then Gaspar, and then Scott.
“Now everyone place their left foot on top of the foot of the person to their left,” Odina instructed. “Together we form a circle of positivity. No negative energy will be allowed to enter this circle. Those participators who are negative may leave the circle now.”
Coulter pushed back his chair. Scott shot him a look. Reluctantly, Coulter scooted back in.
Odina watched them, her mouth a grim, straight line. “Let us begin,” she bellowed. “Dearest spirits, we bring you gifts of light, gifts of nourishment, into death. Commune with us, feel free to walk among us.”
“Everyone watch your valuables,” Coulter said.
“Wilder, either you control your team or leave the room,” Vivica said sharply.
Scott gazed pointedly at Coulter. “We’ll be quiet.”
Odina closed her eyes. “Kind spirits, do not be afraid, we are here to help. Commune with us. Show yourselves. Spirits, we seek to communicate with you from life into death. Why do you haunt this dwelling? We are here to help.”
A soft wind blew through the room; the candles fluttered. Anjali squeezed Scott and Coulter’s hands hard. Both men looked at her. In the dim light her golden complexion was covered with a thin sheen of perspiration.
Odina raised her voice. “Spirits, knock if you are here. Let the wood of this table be your conduit.”
Anjali sat up straight, holding on to the two next to her in a death grip.
“Gentle spirits,” Odina said. “You may enter. Let the wood of—”
A loud knock echoed through the room.
“Spirits, are you with us?” Odina’s eyes remained closed.
Two knocks in quick succession followed.
Odina opened her eyes. “I am going to allow the spirit to speak through me. The circle must remain unbroken.”
A moment passed.
Slowly the table moved in a clockwise direction.
Odina sat still in her chair. “The circle must remain…”
Her voice trailed off as a high, tinny voice rose into the air.
The spirit was speaking.
But the voice did not come from Odina.
It came from Anjali.
34
Seven pairs of eyes were focused on Anjali.
“What is it you wish of me?” the voice asked.
Odina’s eyes flew open. “No one told me she was a medium,” she hissed.
“Wait your turn, Wilder,” Vivica snapped.
“She wasn’t opening herself up,” Scott said. “I don’t know what’s going on.”
Anjali’s body was taut. The muscles in her neck stood out. “The host is unwilling,” the voice said.
Coulter leaned over and looked at Scott. “Shit, what do we do?”
“Keep holding hands. Don’t break the circle,” Scott whispered. “We have to wait until she fights it or the spirit leaves.”
Anjali’s face creased in a smile that was crafty and cunning, wholly foreign to her. “Will you not ask a question?”
“What do you want?” Sly asked.
“My name is Mary and I want this body,” the voice said.
“Mary Chestnut was the actress who killed herself in the bathroom of her suite,” Sly said excitedly.
“Well, duh,” Coulter replied.
“Two mediums may not be present during a séance,” Odina insisted, looking sulky.
Suddenly a tremor passed through Anjali’s body, and she fell back against the seat.
Scott reached out and checked the pulse on the side of her neck. He touched her cheek. “Anjali?”
Her eyes fluttered open. She shuddered. “The presence slipped in.”
“Was it Mary Chestnut?” Sly asked.
“It was definitely a she. Her thoughts were in my head. All I could feel was this violent hate. I think she killed Mary.”
Sly shook his head. “Mary committed suicide. Besides, the spirit said she was Mary.”
“Spirits do lie,” Scott pointed out.
Slowly Vivica clapped her hands. “Well, that was an Oscar-winning performance. Wilder, you’ve trained her well.”
“You saw her face,” Coulter argued. “I’m surprised her head didn’t start spinnin’ around.”
“She was definitely possessed,” Sly agreed.
Vivica smiled at Sly. “Excuse me, but what you know about mediums wouldn’t fit inside of a bumblebee’s ass. Possession is very easily faked. I can vouch for Odina; she’s done a number of séances. What you’ve just seen here is nothing more than trickery.”
In the distance a door slammed, stalling further conversation. The sound of footsteps moved toward them.
Anjali turned to Coulter. “Do you feel that?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “A freakish energy or something.”
A moment later, one of Vivica’s minions walked into the room with a man Scott recognized. He couldn’t forget those cold gray eyes.
Hans Morden.
Vivica moved quickly toward them. She and her minion whispered for a few minutes before she turned around. “Odina, I no longer need your services.”
Anjali grabbed Scott’s arm. “He’s telepathic, isn’t he? That man? He’s like me.”
Odina remained seated. “I still get paid, right?”
Vivica nodded at one of her men, who pulled out a check and tossed it in front of Odina.
“But what about my ride?” Odina demanded.
“Get a taxi, you old cow,” Vivica snapped. She swept out of the room with Hans, followed by her team.
“So what’s the plan?” Anjali asked. “No way am I doing another séance.”
Scott spread out a map of the ship on the table. “So we can assume there are two main areas of psychic activity,” Scott said. “The boiler room and the cabin where Mary Chestnut killed herself.”
“You know, I didn’t think this through,” Coulter said. “What are we going to do? Try to run faster than Vivica’s team and clean out these places before she does?”
“Well, they can’t be in two places,” Scott pointed out. “If they’re in the boiler room, then we’ll head for Mary’s cabin.”
“Where is Mary’s cabin?” Anjali asked.
Scott pointed to a spot on the map. “Upper deck, left wing.”
Anjali glanced up and cocked her head to the left. “They’re in the cabin.” Both men turned to face her. “I can feel him, Hans. Can’t you, Coulter?”
“Before, not now.”
Scott watched her, his expression concerned. “Is Hans communicating with you?”
“Not exactly but you know how sometimes you can be really aware of someone? Their very presence can change the energy of a room.”
“I don’t like this,” Scott said. “Hans is unstable. If he starts pushing into your mind…we’ll let Vivica have this case.”
Anjali felt like a baby. Ooh, the creepy psychic is scaring me. “Forget it,” she said. “I can sense him; he can sense me. At least I know where he is and I can avoid him. Let’s take a look at the boiler room.”
She got up, heading for the door, and then stopped. “Umm, where is the boiler room exactly?”
The boiler room was a case of residual haunting.
The spirits of the dead engineers were trapped in the room, reliving their last moments of running up the steps trying to escape.
Anjali went down into the room, stopping on the last step. She could feel the pressure on her chest, the inability to breathe, everything the two men had faced.
She closed her eyes and cleansed the room in a matter of moments.
Coulter was waiting for her at the top. He smiled. “Done?”
&nb
sp; “Done. Where’s Scott?”
He shrugged. “Mumbled something about finding Sly. Come on, I want to show you something.” He pointed to a light fixture. “Watch this.” He stared at the bulb. For a second it flickered and then began to grow brighter and brighter until Anjali had to shield her eyes.
“Forget solar power,” she said. “We’ve got a new energy source.”
He grinned. “And I’m one hundred percent environmentally friendly.”
The bulb suddenly exploded, and she jumped. Coulter caught her around the middle and swung her toward him, laughing.
He put her down so her back was against the wall and planted a hand on either side of her, blocking her in.
Well, this was unexpected, she thought.
His hand drifted to her hair, and he lazily curled a lock around his finger. “I think you’re exotic.”
She was finding it hard to breathe. Nothing to do with ghosts. Just hormones. She laughed nervously. “Exotic? Not really. The country is crawling with Indians. We’re pretty mainstream.”
Coulter’s warm breath tickled her ear and his lips grazed the side of her cheek. “Is that right?”
Becoming a professional psychic had certainly done wonders for her love life.
Still.
Beautiful as he was, she wasn’t sure about the timing. Not with crazy Hans lurking in her mind. Not when she’d been so recently possessed by a murderous ghost. Not when…
His mouth moved over hers. A moment later his tongue parted her lips.
Hai Ram.
Someone cleared his throat.
She felt Coulter pull away and opened her eyes. Looking over his shoulder, she saw Scott standing there.
His face was perfectly smooth, composed. “Hans has disappeared.”
“What!” She stepped away from Coulter and reached out with her mind. Nothing. Great, now Hans had gone from lurking in her mind to possibly lurking behind the next corner.
“We’ll continue with the investigation. Unless Hans bothers us, he’s Vivica’s problem,” Scott said. “I’m heading to the upper deck. Meet me there.” He walked off.
