by Krista Walsh
“Is that all?”
Emmet ran his hand over his hair. “Okay, the whistling guy was kind of an excuse to come here, all right? Most people don’t even know Jack’s dead, and the people who do don’t care. But he was my best friend. I need to know what happened to him, and since I doubt the cops’ll talk to me, I figure you’re my best shot.”
Daphne stared at him, keeping her gaze glued to his, and when he stared back at her with equal intensity, she said, “What about my watch and that twenty bucks you took?”
Now he blushed. “I sold the watch and spent the money. I needed smokes since you soaked my last one.”
Her magic flared around her arms, and Emmett flinched. She took a slow breath, unclenched her teeth, and forced her power to ebb.
The last thing she needed was a sidekick with quick fingers, and if there was any chance of Crispy making another appearance, she didn’t want to have to divide her attention in protecting Emmett.
“I don’t have time to babysit, and there’s nothing you can do to help. I know you want to find out what happened to your friend, but the best cops in the city are on this, and I’m working my own angle. It would be a lot easier if you stayed out of the way and let us do our jobs.”
“But —”
Daphne held up her hand. “I’m serious. You know where I live now, so how about, in a week or so, you swing by and I’ll let you know what we’ve found, all right? Until then, you should stick with your regular routine.”
“Daphne? Emmett? Dinner’s ready.”
The two of them exchanged glances, one questioning, the other resigned. Finally, Daphne nodded. “After dinner.”
11
Under different circumstances, Daphne would have found the discussion over dinner highly entertaining. The way Emmett stared in awe as Cheryl, Evelyn, and Daphne discussed her plan for that evening, his slightly parted lips and wide eyes, made it appear as though he didn’t know if he believed what he was hearing, as though he wanted to believe but also worried they were drawing him in only to turn around and tell him they were joking.
Daphne wished they were joking about any of it. She’d thought she was done with unpredictable late-night rendezvous with mysterious people. She’d promised herself a straight life, focused on her job, and hoped that one day she’d have some kind of romantic attachment with a steady, level-headed man who didn’t mind if she sometimes warmed up her coffee by blowing on it.
Instead, she was discussing strategies for how to deal with possible ghost scenarios with the two people she’d never been able to talk about ghosts with before.
Life had a funny way of coming full circle.
“You made one contact there the first night you tried, but you said you heard others who sounded emotional,” Cheryl reminded her. “In death as in life, emotional people are not always likely to be rational. If you’re right and their existence is under threat, they’ll be on edge. They might not be willing to show themselves and risk being exposed to whatever else is lurking there.”
“Why?” Emmett asked. “What could it do to them if they’re already dead?”
Evelyn patted his hand. “That depends on the nature of the threat. Their spirits could be devoured, torn apart, trapped in an even darker hell. The powers of the afterlife are not something to play with, a truth my granddaughter unfortunately had to learn for herself.”
“In this case, it might give me an advantage,” said Daphne. “My previous experience could help me stand against anything that threatens them.” At her mother’s horrified expression, she dropped more salad onto her plate and added, “That’s not my goal in going there tonight, though. I’ll just do my best to offer them protection and to be there for them. If I can find one victim who’s willing to speak with me — even better, find someone who died recently and can help me connect Charles with the curse of this place — then I’ll see it as a successful evening.”
“What if the barbecue man shows up again?” Emmett asked, his face going pale. He grimaced at his steak and pushed his plate away.
“Barbecue man?” Evelyn asked.
Daphne cleared her throat and stared into her salad. She’d held off on telling her family that part of her night, but Emmett was on the other side of the table, too far to kick his shins.
“The monster that attacked us the night we were there,” he said. “He looked like his skin was about to flake off.”
“Daphne Morgan —” Cheryl started.
“I know,” said Daphne. “I should have told you and I didn’t. But I’m fine, so what does it matter? There is a monster at the hospital and I don’t know how it fits in yet. It has these crazy long claws, but none of the victims show any markings on them. Maybe it guards the hospital? That’s another thing I hope to learn.”
Cheryl pressed her napkin to her mouth and then fluttered it back onto her lap. “I gave up on telling you what to do a long time ago, so all I will say is to be careful. You have defenses — use them.”
“And don’t be stupid,” Evelyn added, nodding her white-haired head.
“I promise,” Daphne said. She just hoped she wouldn’t have to break her word.
***
As Daphne crossed the gravel driveway toward the hospital’s front door, the weight of Peony House’s energy pressed down on her, growing heavier with each new visit.
She’d considered sticking with her usual route along the service road, but with the police presence gone, using the front entrance made her feel less like a criminal breaking into someone’s place. There was still the chance someone might see her go in, but at least now she couldn’t be accused of messing with a crime scene. Not in the way the police would see it, anyway.
She stepped into the lobby, and her skin crawled with the energy seeping up through the rotting floor and in through the walls. The whispers flocked around her, the spirits full of heightened animation.
Daphne wondered how much they had overheard of her conversation with Mary Ruth and crossed her fingers that her promise to help them might make them more willing to talk. Assuming they could.
She moved toward the stairs and turned away from the imprints floating through their nightly show. She wasn’t here for them, but for the spirits who actually had something to offer.
A dark shape moved in the darkness, and Daphne jumped away, her heart in her throat. She summoned her magic into her shaking hands and braced herself to attack if the figure came at her.
The shape stepped into the glow of the streetlight, revealing Emmett’s gaunt face, and Daphne exhaled with a deep groan.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she hissed.
“What I said I’d do,” he shot back. “I told you I wanted to help. Did you really think telling me to keep my nose out of it would make me stay away?”
She looked over her shoulder through the window at her car in the drive. “How did you get here before me?”
“Took your neighbor’s bike.” Daphne looked back at him in horror and he held up his hands. “I’ll return it.”
She groaned and shook out her arms to clear the magic, then ran her fingers over her face. At every point on this story, she was bumping into an immovable rock. If one of them didn’t give way soon, she was likely to get crushed.
“Is there anything I can say that will make you drop this?” she asked.
Emmett crossed his arms. “Nope.”
She swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes shut to allow some space to work through her newest problem. Part of her admired his determination to find out what had happened to his friend. In that sense, he reminded her of herself, of her unshakable drive to find answers, but she had no desire to spend time with herself. She had enough demons to work through.
On the other hand, giving him permission to stay would be a good way to keep him out of trouble.
Her decision made, she said, “Fine, but if you’re sticking with me, you do what I say, when I say it. We’re dealing with unknown forces here, and I can’t have you stepping
on toes.
Hope flared in Emmett’s eyes, and Daphne rolled her gaze toward the ceiling, wondering if she’d just made a horrible mistake. But it was too late to second guess herself.
“Have you ever seen a séance before?” she asked.
His brow scrunched up. “Like talking with ghosts? No.”
“You’re about to. Don’t speak too loudly and don’t make any sudden movements.”
Tonight, the imprints of the doctors and nurses were faint, and she closed her eyes to trace the energy running through the house. The flavor of it was just as dark as it had been, but the current seemed to have faded a little.
“This place wigs me out now,” Emmett grumbled, echoing her thoughts as he looked around the empty room. “It feels…dirty. Like something oily is crawling over my skin.”
He rubbed his arms through his sleeves and reached into his pocket for his lighter and pack of cigarettes.
As soon as he flicked the lighter, the flame extinguished. He tried three times before giving up and sliding the cigarette back into its pack.
“Trust the dead to be health nuts,” he muttered, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He looked up at the ceiling and back toward the door. “Hey, Daphne?”
“Mmhmm?” she murmured, casting her flashlight beam down the corridor.
“When you said you wanted to talk to one of the recent victims here, were you thinking of Jack? Do you think we’ll see him?”
Daphne turned to look at him and read his expression, but couldn’t decipher if it was hope or fear on his face. Her heart warmed with sympathy. “I’m not sure. It’s possible we won’t meet anyone.”
He dropped his head and scuffed the soles of his worn sneakers through the dust on the floor. Then he jerked his head up and Daphne flinched as the unpowered ceiling lights flickered on overhead. Bulbs that had long been forgotten in their sockets, hidden behind lamp coverings full of so many bugs that hardly any light made it through the glass, turned on, off, on, and then stayed on with only the briefest flutterings of power.
Emmett sidled closer to Daphne, and she stirred the magic in her blood. It ran like a current through her veins, raising the hair on her arms. None of the unknown energy in the room seemed hostile toward her, but she thought it best to be prepared. She hadn’t anticipated Crispy on her earlier visit, either, and had no idea what else lurked in the dark corners of the abandoned hospital.
“What’s going on?” he whispered.
Daphne considered telling him he didn’t need to speak quietly, that any ears close enough to hear him would do so regardless of his volume, but she understood his desire to pass through the lobby unseen, to creep through what was clearly someone else’s space.
Beneath the hum of electricity through the old bulbs, water trickled from the rusted and unused pipes. The drip, drip, drip worked through her mind and competed with the rhythm of magic pulsing in her blood, throwing off her concentration. Her hands trembled at her sides and a bead of sweat dripped down her back. She wished she could throw off her restraint and let her magic take over so her thoughts didn’t have to be in ten places at once, but she buckled down, tuned out the water, and refocused.
The lights went out and the hallway went dark. She jumped, her palms going sweaty. Emmett grabbed her arm, and she tightened her grip on her flashlight, the beam reflecting back at her from the cracked walls. The whispers had gone quiet, and in the silence all she heard was the drip of the water and Emmett breathing beside her.
“How are they doing this?”
“They’re not happy,” she explained, doing her best to sound calm. “You told me they were quiet a few months ago and then something changed. I think something happened to wake them up, and now they want to be heard.”
Emmett gave her a sidelong glance. “If I hadn’t seen what you can do with my own eyes and been attacked by that…thing, I’d think you were crazy, you know that?”
Daphne returned his look. “Of course. Why do you think I don’t walk around with a witch’s hat and a badge saying ‘sorceress’? No one believes this stuff.”
She headed up the stairs and the voices rose in the air around her, a soft murmur that grew louder the higher she climbed. She bypassed the second floor and went straight to the third. The voices reached a screaming pitch once she stepped into the third-floor hallway. Adrenaline urged her to run away, but she planted her feet and waited for the voices to settle. Emmett’s large, terrified gaze roved the space around him.
“I’ve never heard them like this before. So clear. How is it possible?”
“They’re getting closer to the barrier between their plane and ours,” she said. “They’re getting desperate.”
Her breath quick and skin prickling, Daphne led the way down the corridor toward the room at the end. She ducked under the police tape, this time going first to the closet to ensure it was empty.
“Hopefully Crispy leaves us alone.” She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out six votive candles. “Light these around the room.”
She offered Emmett three of them and his hands trembled as he took them.
“Why?” he asked. “What will they do?”
Daphne shrugged and set the first candle down on the floor. “Nothing, really, but they’ll light the room better than the flashlight. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not sit around in the dark.”
Emmett set about his task, then sat cross-legged across from her.
“You might not want to sit there,” she said, drawing her legs beneath her. A chill needled her spine from the dampness in the room, and she held back from tapping into a deeper layer of her magic to warm herself up. “We might get company.”
He jumped up as though he realized he’d sat in water and moved to her side, sitting so close his elbow rested on her knee. She was impressed by his steadiness, in spite of the fear he obviously felt. Giving his hand a quick squeeze, she rested her palms on her knees, closed her eyes, and centered her mind on the room.
“Mary Ruth? Are you here?” she called, keeping her voice soft and gentle. With the frantic energy swirling through the hallway, the last thing she wanted to do was add to it.
“Who’s Mary Ruth?” Emmett whispered.
“Shh,” she said. “Mary Ruth, if you can hear me, please answer. I have a few more questions I need to ask.”
A light flickered behind her eyelids, and she opened her eyes to see the girl appear and disappear, like an old video reel that had nearly worn through.
Emmett cursed and made to scramble away, but Daphne grabbed his arm to keep him at her side. He bounced his knees, unable to stay still.
She sensed the young woman’s fear like an acid taste in her throat and extended her hand to calm her.
“It’s all right. Mary Ruth, this is Emmett. He’s a friend of the young man who was murdered here this week, and he wants to get to the truth as much as we do.”
“I can’t help.” The woman’s voice reached Daphne as though from a far distance. It was strained and weak. “It’s too loud. Too close. I’m not safe.”
Emmett’s mouth fell open and his cheeks paled. He curled his hands around his knees and squeezed until the knuckles turned white. Daphne remembered her own first encounter with the deceased. She’d been about the same age as him and just as petrified. She wished she could have said anything to prepare him for this.
Before she could worry that he would start screaming, his arm relaxed beside her, and his shaky breaths evened out. If he was still afraid, he appeared to have mastered it.
Turning her attention back to Mary Ruth, Daphne said, “You are safe. I can protect you.”
She hoped that was true. In spite of the confidence she’d shown over dinner, she hadn’t dealt with hostile spirits since the days she’d spent trying to control them. Back then, she hadn’t been powerful enough to keep her hold over them, and since she’d absorbed Jermaine’s magic, she hadn’t tried.
“You can’t,” said Mary Ruth. “It’s here. It’s
always here now. I can’t —” The woman faded away.
Overhead, the lights flickered, and the foundation of the hospital trembled. With a thundering crack, a new seam opened in the wall down the middle of the room, and Emmett latched his fingers around Daphne’s leg. “Daphne?”
The sound of her heartbeat drowned out any other noises, and she squeezed her hands into fists on her knees, drawing her magic closer to the surface. She tried to calm her mind, but thoughts of what might have caused the tremor made it difficult to find grounding. She forced herself to unclench her fingers and patted Emmett’s arm reassuringly.
After a few attempts to get control of her breathing, she said, “Is there anyone here who can speak with me? I know there’s a curse on this house, but I need your help to break it. And I know there’s a creature stalking these hallways, but I need information to catch it.”
For a minute silence reigned, and then figure after figure appeared in the room, white shadows of what once had been. Their faces were gaunt, their expressions wide, terrified. More than half of them had their mouths glued shut, the skin taut and strained as they tried to speak, and the others stood close, guarding them.
“Holy shit…” Emmett murmured, beating Daphne to the sentiment.
All at once they began to speak. The cries of the muzzled spirits grew frustrated, which only made them louder. Those who could speak shared their own experiences, but Daphne couldn’t wade through the cacophony.
So many of them, all in hospital gowns, but the variations in style — from ruffles and cotton to stripes and polyester — along with their hairstyles — straight to curled to gelled back — suggested the different eras from which they had come.
“I don’t see Jack,” Emmett said, ducking his head left and right to get a better view as the spirits appeared.
Daphne rested her hand over his, but stayed focused on the crowd.
“You,” she said, and pointed at a young man. He stood shorter than Emmett, but appeared just as thin as he was, and just as tired as Mary Ruth. By his pajamas, army standard, she guessed he had died shortly before the hospital closed, at the end of the war. “Tell me what you know.”
