Phantasm

by Phaedra Weldon

  Dags narrowed his eyes. “So—because you found the body close to Zoë’s home, you think she’s involved?”

  “No.” Captain Cooper looked at me. “I’m looking at Zoë because the victim was identified as someone who recently invaded her home and attacked her. And the victim’s fiancé is accusing Zoë of murdering her.”

  My eyes widened. “Huh?”

  “Say what?” Joe said.

  “Who is accusing me of murder?”

  Cooper looked directly at me. “Randall Kemp—the victim was his girlfriend, Boo Baskins.”

  10

  The return of SPRITE

  WHO the hell is that?

  “Just—be—quiet—” I hissed, only I did it without actually making a noise. I figured I was pretty good at that. Especially after not having a voice for three months.

  But to fill in the unread—Randall Kemp was the owner and pioneer of the paranormal group SPRITE, which stood for Southeastern Paranormal Research Institute for Termination and Extermination. Or I think that was it. I always got it confused. Big name, small group, with a fairy choking a ghost as their logo.

  Funded early on from a trust left to Randall Kemp by his grandmother, Randall was the consummate ghost hunter—and a genius to boot. About a month before my meeting up with Trench Coat, I’d investigated a home on Web Ginn House for my largest client, Maharba (yes, we know it’s Abraham spelled backward—but that apparently doesn’t mean anything). In that house was a poltergeist (nasty big squid-looking thing) and a group of ghost hunters.

  SPRITE.

  Randall had been able to get me on film—on an infrared camera and on audio. Boo was a part of the four-man team that witnessed me visually, as well as audibly. I was able to find the root of the poltergeist and snap its fetter. And oddly enough, SPRITE’s so-called footage of me had vanished, as did their credibility. I’d always assumed that Maharba had something to do with that—pretty much making SPRITE vanish into history.

  Months later Randall and company popped up again, funded by a group called the League of Six. Randall had created what I called a Ghost Zapper gun. And it fucking hurt. I know because I was zapped with it several times. It practically rendered me useless for a bit. Randall and company had used it on me with the intent of rescuing me—Zoë—from the ghost that haunted me. Unfortunately, the League of Six had shown up, grabbed my body (I’d hidden inside of Joe’s), and taken off, leaving the SPRITE team to take the rap for the break-in. Boo had also been in on that adventure.

  I hadn’t seen much of Randall and company since then. There were a few times I’d seen the van around—nearby—but they’d never stepped into the shop again.

  Now to hear that Boo was . . . dead?

  Joe was beside Cooper. “Boo Baskins? Are you sure?”

  “Mr. Kemp made a positive identification. Her parents are on their way from Florida. Mr. Kemp accused Miss Martinique of murdering Boo in order to get even for her mother’s illness.”

  I was shocked—stunned into silence. Yeah, I know. Weird. But how in the hell did Randall Kemp come up with that crazy idea when I’d never even formally met Boo, or even Randall for that matter? Yeah, I’d overshadowed him in order to take hold of the situation, but ultimately I was the one that got kidnapped.

  And the thought that someone would believe I—me—could kill?

  Didn’t you kill that—

  SHUT UP!

  Dags rubbed at his chin. “You can’t possibly believe that Zoë killed anyone.”

  Cooper glared at Dags. “At this point in my career—I can believe a lot of things. Incidentally, may I ask you where you were?”

  I piped up. “He was with me, like he said.” The last thing I wanted was for Cooper to set his attack sights on Dags. The bartender turned Guardian had enough weirdness in his life not to have to deal with a cop with a vendetta.

  “You were sick—did you see him all the time?”

  “Captain,” Joe said. “I can vouch for Dags. So could Frasier—if he were here. I’d also like to know you really don’t think Zoë had anything to do with these murders.”

  “No, I don’t. Honestly. I do believe Miss Martinique excels at getting into trouble—but I don’t believe she has any special supernatural powers that could make her stop someone’s heart from beating.”

  Insert crickets chirping.

  After that very awkward pause, Joe huffed, “So do you have any other suspects you’d like me to question?”

  With his glare still lingering at Dags, Cooper nodded and pulled his iPhone from his belt. He touched the screen a few times and dragged his index finger upward along the surface. “There are his friends—who are also members of this ghost group he managed. Herb Maupin and Ronald Beaumont.”

  Joe took out his own iPhone and tapped the screen. “E-mail me that info, and I’ll start the interviews.”

  Two more taps, and Cooper put the phone away. “You got any ideas where Frasier is? I don’t want you working this alone.”

  “Oh, I’m not really alone. And no, I have no idea what the cheese-head is doing.” He grinned. “But I’ll find him.”

  “Good,” Cooper nodded at me. “Miss Martinique—I do wish you and your mother the best. But I would caution you about Mr. Kemp—he strikes me as being a hothead.” Then he glared at Dags and left the room.

  “He doesn’t like me,” Dags muttered.

  “Ya think?” Joe said. He was looking at his iPhone. I wanted one of those things. Oh! And now that I had a voice—why not! “I hate to say this—and don’t take it the wrong way—but I’m kind of glad we got one of the murders in our jurisdiction. I know Cooper’s been chomping to get ahold of the case.”

  I ran my fingers through my hair. It was a bit tangled, and I needed a comb. Wasn’t sure I trusted a mirror though. I also felt bad for Randall—I mean—I’d never really wanted the guy to get hurt, or his girlfriend. And I had spent a few minutes inside of him when they’d broken into the shop.

  Just dropped dead, huh?

  My back tensed. I’d almost forgotten he was in there.

  Well, not for long. “Dags, there’s something I have to—”

  You do that, and I’ll kill both of them.

  I stopped.

  Dags frowned at me. “Something you have to what?” He was looking through the pockets of his peacoat and pulled out his phone.

  You wouldn’t dare.

  I would have killed the Guardian earlier—but he was able to take a piece of me because I was in my natural state. All I have to do is get close to either of them, slip out of your body, and take his soul. No mark. No weapon. Just a quiet, insignificant death.

  I felt my heart miss a beat.

  The thought of TC killing Joe or Dags—

  And then I reconsidered what TC had just said.

  No mark. No weapon. Just take the soul from the body. He drops dead.

  “Zoë?” Joe said.

  I pursed my lips before slipping off the bed. He moved to sit on the bed and face me as Dags stood by my side. “Joe—you said the bodies have no apparent cause of death. You mean there’s not a mark on them?”

  He shrugged. “Pretty much—and the coroner’s reports all say the same—no internal injuries as well. Now, for Boo Baskins I can’t say—I heard what you guys heard. Why?”

  I looked at him, then looked at Dags. “That’s the way a Symbiont can kill.”

  Both men’s eyes widened to the size of golf balls.

  “Holy shit,” Dags said. “You think TC murdered those people? Ate their souls? Maureen and Alice said his spiritual essence seemed pretty weak for a Symbiont with the reputation of Archer.”

  I waited for the internal dialogue to start. I wasn’t disappointed.

  I really hate that guy. And for your information, I didn’t snack on those people. And you can tell if I’m lying.

  “I can?”

  “You can what?” Joe said.

  Damnit. This situation was intolerable—for the first time in a while I cou
ld talk, and I was going to have to learn not to. I waved at Joe to drop it. “Thinking out loud.”

  “Not used to that with you.”

  “Me talking?”

  “No, you thinking.”

  I shot him the bird.

  If you were Wraith, you could zap his ass.

  Shut. Up.

  Then a thought popped into my head. Hey, why can’t Dags or Maureen or Alice sense you inside of me? I’m like . . . just human again, right? Shouldn’t they pick up your Abysmal essence or something like that?

  There was a pause, then, I don’t know.

  Wow. That was a first. TC didn’t know?

  “I think this is a good theory,” Dags said. “Is there a way to see one of the bodies?”

  Joe and I looked at him. “Why?” we said in unison.

  “Because even with death, there is an imprint of a person’s soul on the body itself. I mean—you’re in that body for a long period of time, so there is going to be a link between it and the soul. But if a Symbiont takes a soul, then there should be no imprint left because the Symbiont consumes the soul. There would be an echo of the Symbiont.”

  I had nothing to say to that. It was just too horrible to consider. To have your soul consumed like a pizza? Dags made it sound as if there was nothing left. And how did this relate back to my mom? Technically, TC took my mom’s soul—

  I didn’t eat Nona. I simply plucked her out of a very nasty situation.

  If I find out that you hurt her in any way—

  “Could you tell this? You and the girls?” Joe said.

  Dags nodded. “Yes. And I might be able to tell who killed them.”

  “How?” I asked.

  He smiled. “You’ll see.”

  Cue ominous music.

  “Wait.” I’d shoved my hands into my pockets and found a rock. “Where’s Tim?”

  Dags’s eyebrows arched. “Tim’s here? I haven’t seen him.”

  “Me neither,” Joe said. “You sure?”

  I pulled the rock out of my pocket. But Tim didn’t reappear. He’d been with me in the car—but when I thought about it, I realized I hadn’t seen him in Mom’s room either. Not while TC was there—

  What did you do with him?

  There was a deep chuckle inside. Nothing. He’s around. He’s just choosing to remain invisible and silent.

  Choosing? Or because you threatened?

  I could feel TC’s shoulders shrug. All a matter of opinion.

  “Maybe he doesn’t have enough juice to go corporeal,” Joe offered.

  But Dags wasn’t as forgiving of the question. “Hold the rock up, Zoë. In your palm.”

  I did as he asked and watched as he held out his right hand. The circles illuminated to a white-blue light that enshrouded the rock as well as my hand. I couldn’t sense anything other than a warm feeling against my skin. What I did see was a strange pattern on the rock itself as small, thin swirls of blue-white light appeared like a crazy tattoo.

  “What is that?”

  Dags answered. “Those are the fetter lines for Tim. Each fetter presents a different pattern. Alice’s Ethereal light makes them visible. His is still here, and strong, but I can’t tell why he hasn’t manifested.” He lowered his hand, and the light vanished. “Maybe it has something to do with your missing abilities?”

  I shrugged and shoved the rock back in my pocket. A part of me missed Rhonda and her ability to find the answers for things. Dags had once been a lot like that, and he’d been great so far at answering questions, but I was thinking we were getting into waters even he didn’t understand. Much less the girls.

  I snapped my fingers. “Guys—the Triskelion pendant is missing—the one I’d put around Mom’s neck. I think someone stole it.”

  Joe nodded. “I’ll look into that. Though”—he frowned—“I was a little surprised you had that thing there, seeing as how it would prevent the wearer from being possessed.”

  I shrugged at him. “Yeah? I wanted to stop anything oogy from getting inside of my mom’s body.”

  “But didn’t it stop you from getting back into your own body?”

  I—uh—hrm. Yes, it had. And Joe had seen that, being in disguise with the League of Six guys that had come to kidnap me that day. I’d been ordered back in my body after being zapped with Randall’s Ghost Zapper and couldn’t. At the time I didn’t know why—so I’d instead overshadowed Joe, jumping inside of him for safety.

  He nodded. “Uh-huh. So—while it was on Nona—who’s to say she didn’t try to get back in her body and couldn’t because of that thing?”

  Oh fuck.

  Christ, I am such a ditz sometimes. Why didn’t I think about that? And if it’s true—was I the idiot who prevented Mom from getting back into her body when she escaped TC?

  You really are stupid, aren’t you?

  “That is enough,” I hissed.

  And of course Dags and Joe gave me strange looks. I smiled. “Sorry . . . I’m just frustrated that I probably prolonged my mom being missing.”

  “Well, my call is TC,” Joe put in. “Dags said he showed up at the shop—and then tried to kill the both of you?”

  I was only trying to kill the Guardian—

  I interrupted his internal dialogue. “He tried to kill Dags. I think he and the girls are one of the few things he’s afraid of, so let’s keep that in mind.”

  I am not afraid of—

  But then he stopped as I thought up an image of Maureen and Alice letting loose on his Symbiont ass.

  Remember, they actually have a piece of you now.

  “Maureen was able to isolate a piece of the Symbiont’s Abysmal essence,” Dags said. “So we’ll have a weapon in case he tries to attack again.”

  Joe nodded, though I could see he was trying to suss out in his mind how all that was going to work. “And the girls are sure he doesn’t have Nona somewhere?”

  Dags and I nodded.

  “And you both believe that?”

  “Of course I do,” Dags said. “Why wouldn’t I believe Maureen?”

  “Well, because she’s Abysmal essence?” Joe said with his hands spread out. “She’s living inside of you—so in my book that makes her a Symbiont by default. And in my experience”—he shook his head—“Symbionts, Daimons, fetches—they’re all little pieces of nasty.”

  “Symbionts aren’t Abysmal by default,” I said, remembering something Rhonda had said once when we first looked up what the hell a Symbiont was. “I think Symbionts are pretty much neutral depending on who uses them.”

  “Right on target,” Dags said. “Good and evil are human concepts—and not something that translates well through the other planes, Joe. It’s not so much a question of good overrules evil. The barriers between the planes are there to prevent the forming of chaos. The universe loves order—like attracts like. The Ethereal and the Abysmal became two halves of a whole. I trust both of them, Joe. And you should too.”

  “Doesn’t matter how many ways you say it, Dags—I don’t trust Maureen.” Joe smirked. He pulled his iPhone back out, touched the screen, and moved to the door. “Just hang on,” he said with a glance back, then left the room.

  I looked at Dags. After listening to the two of them, I sort of figured something out. “Joe doesn’t trust Maureen—why? It’s like he already knows her and maybe she’s messed with that trust before.” I arched an eyebrow at Dags. “You care to tell me how long you and Joe have been fighting the oogies together without me?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe a few weeks. He didn’t tell you?”

  I shook my head. “No. I wasn’t kidding when I said I hadn’t seen Joe since that night in Stephens’s basement. When exactly did you meet up with him? I know you saw him at the hospital with me—he called you to bring coffee.”

  Dags nodded and sat back on the edge of the bed. “I was working at the hospital—part-time. But just after that I had a few . . . issues come up. I told you a lot’s happened since then. A lot happened after I left the hospit
al—after the incident with the Cruorem.”

  “Yeah—two days after you coded, you disappeared. Just got up and left.”

  “I didn’t have a choice.” He looked at the floor. Dags looked . . . young. And incredibly vulnerable. Like he had when I’d first met him. “I’ll tell you about it someday. When I can. Just know that a lot happened.”

  I piped up. “You keep saying a lot happened.” And he had. In fact, that was all he’d told me since he rescued me from the purple-flame thingie. “Dags, you died in that hospital. I’d forgotten that for some reason—and now I’m remembering it.”

  “Yeah,” he said, and looked at me. “And you changed that—did you know that?” He stood up and took a step closer. Our gazes locked together. “My heart stopped—and you restarted it.” He smiled. “You saved me.”

  I was stunned. I had no idea what he was talking about. My memories were returning, yeah, but not all at once. I could remember being with Daniel, feeling powerful, omniscient, and there was movement.

  Motion.

  Tenderness.

  Orgasm.

  “Okay, we’re in,” Joe said as he stepped back through the door. He stopped when he saw Dags and me inches from each other. “Hey—you two okay?”

  I shook away the memories and took a step back. “Yeah, yeah. We’re fine. I just—” I turned and looked at Joe. “We’re in what?”

  Joe grinned. And it was that wonderful shit-eating grin that usually got on my nerves. “Dekalb County Coroner’s Office. We’re going to check out a body.”

  11

  To the morgue we go . . . ew

  I don’t like morgues.

  I’d woken up in one before. In the drawer.

  Box.

  Not the highlight of my life.

  But a definite turning point.

  It was late by the time we got there, the night shift well into its work. There were few cars in the parking lot and only a single guard at the front window.