Memento Mori: Haunted New Orleans Series

by Rayvn Salvador

  Into the walkie, I whispered, “Lark, can you hear me?” When I got no response, I nodded and dove in. “Who do we have with us in the carriage house?”

  There still wasn’t a response, so I kept going.

  “Was this your house?”

  “House. Died,” came from the walkie. Lark’s reiteration of what she heard through the headphones. “It’s a male voice,” she added.

  “Who am I talking to?” I asked.

  “Not supposed to be here,” Lark said. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Dev,” I answered. “The woman you’re talking to is Larken. And this,”—I gestured to Hanlen—“is Hanlen Arbor. She owns this house.”

  “Hanlen,” Lark said.

  I watched as Hanlen stopped scribbling and raised her head, a look of shock on her face. I winked at her and kept going.

  “Do you know Hanlen?”

  “Family,” Lark called. “Love.”

  “Holy shit,” Hanlen said and kept writing.

  This was getting good.

  “You are Hanlen’s family?”

  “No,” Lark said. The answer confused me, so I pushed a little deeper.

  “No, you’re not her family? Or no to something else?” Sometimes, the spirit box gave words or sentences that didn’t fit with the questions asked, so you had to try and drill down a little further.

  “I’m not,” Lark said. “She is.”

  Huh . . .

  “So you’re not Hanlen’s family but someone else here is. Okay, that’s good. Who are you?”

  “Soldier,” Lark said through the walkie.

  “You’re a soldier?” I asked. “Are you who the guests refer to as The Colonel? Are you who people have seen around the property?”

  “Yes,” Lark said, channeling our soldier ghost. “Died here. No harm.”

  “You mean no harm?” I asked.

  “No harm,” Lark repeated.

  “Good, that’s good,” I said. “Then why are you here? Why do you remain?” I asked.

  “Like it.”

  “Okay, that’s as good a reason as any.” I laughed and looked over at Hanlen to see a smile on her face, too.

  “Who is the woman with you?” I asked. “Not Larken, whoever you were talking about earlier.”

  “Friend,” Lark said.

  “Your friend?”

  “Your friend,” Lark said. I wasn’t sure if The Colonel was echoing me or if that was an answer.

  Lark came through the walkie again. “Dev, I’m seeing a beautiful woman in my head. Braids. Young. Maybe early twenties.”

  All right, we were getting somewhere.

  “Would the woman like to come through?”

  “Can’t,” Lark said, once again speaking for The Colonel.

  “She can’t?” I asked. “Why not?”

  “Not able.”

  I wondered what could be stopping a spirit from communicating. We hadn’t uncovered any malevolent entities as yet. Even the feisty one in the cold storage section was merely disruptive and a bit of a prankster. No dark energies should be keeping any others from coming through.

  “Is there anything we can do to help?” I asked.

  “Don’t know,” Lark said.

  “Can we—?” Before I could even finish my sentence, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. When I looked over, I saw a female in a leather miniskirt and a purple bustier flicker into existence, looking as solid as Hanlen and I did. Her black and purple braids hung to her waist, and even in death, she appeared more alive than a lot of people I’d seen. My breath caught, but I tried to hide my reaction.

  “Okay, guys, you can tap Lark and get her out of there,” I said into the walkie.

  “Copy,” Aaron acknowledged.

  “Why’d you stop?” Hanlen asked. “That was incredible.”

  “We got what we needed.” It was the only answer my brain would form at the moment. All I could do was stare beyond Hanlen to my cousin, watching as she gazed down at Hanlen with tears in her eyes.

  I wondered if the reason she couldn’t come through had to do with Hanlen. I wondered if that was why she hadn’t come to talk to me. Why she’d reached out to Wren and Lark instead. I had no idea how to handle this. Hanlen had just gotten to a point where she was starting to believe—and enjoy—all of this. What would knowing that her dead best friend, the person she missed with every fiber of her being and thought of as a soul-mate sister, was standing right behind her?

  I reached over and shut off my Handycam. We could piece together footage from elsewhere later. This didn’t need to be on camera.

  “Hanlen, I have a serious question for you.”

  “Yeah?” she said, her brow wrinkling.

  “If you could talk to Reagan, would you want to?”

  “Yes, of course. I’ve always wished for that. I think it’s a big reason I was so adamant that there were no such things as ghosts because I believed that she would have come to me if she still lingered.”

  “There are a multitude of reasons why a spirit may not be able to reach out to someone. And sometimes those reasons don’t always make sense. Call it . . . universal spirit care.” I laughed. “The laws require balance. And when a soul is tragically taken from this world, ripped away from those who love them, it’s sometimes too hard—on both parties—for there to be contact. When that’s the case, things outside of our control come into play, and no matter how strong the spirit, the person, or the medium, it just doesn’t happen.”

  “Do you think that could be what happened with Reagan?”

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I do. Hanlen, I’m going to tell you something, and I want you to try to remain calm.”

  “No good conversation in the history of ever started off that way.”

  “Fair,” I answered. “But this might not be the easiest.”

  “I’ve come a long way, Dev. Is The Colonel standing behind me or something?” She turned to look behind her.

  “There is a spirit behind you.”

  She turned back to me. “But it’s not the soldier?” she asked. “Oh, God, is it a demon?”

  I chuckled; I couldn’t help it, especially given the look on Gunnie’s face. “Not a demon.” I reached over and put my hand on Hanlen’s knee, brushing my thumb over her jeans. “Babe, Reagan is standing behind you.”

  “What?” she yelled and jumped up, only to trip on the rug and fall into my lap. I repositioned her in my arms and put my lips against her temple. “Shh, baby. It’s okay.”

  “Okay? I’m not so sure. And . . . wait, how do you know what Reagan looks like?”

  Oh, boy. This might not go over well. Then again, it wasn’t like I did anything wrong. The other day just didn’t seem like the right moment to explain the connection. And I needed some time to come to terms with it anyway.

  “Because . . .” I swallowed hard. “Because Reagan is my cousin, Hanlen. The one I call Gunnie.”

  Her sharp intake of breath hit me in the solar plexus, and I struggled to breathe for a moment. Her entire body had locked, and I wasn’t sure what would come next.

  “Your . . . your cousin?”

  “Yes. I didn’t tell you the other night when you told me her name because I needed a beat to wrap my head around it. She’s another special thing that you and I share. Yet another reason that I think we were meant to be in each other’s lives.”

  “But . . . I don’t understand,” she said.

  “I know. But she’s here. And she’s here for a reason. The Colonel said that she couldn’t communicate for some reason but that she was here because of her family. Someone she loves. That’s both of us.”

  Hanlen sat up straighter on my lap and pulled her hair back, tugging at the strands. I could almost see her trying to make sense of what she’d just heard. When she looked to where Reagan stood, my heart skipped a beat.

  “Goddamn you, Ray,” she said, taking both me and Gunnie by surprise, if the look on my cousin’s face was anything to go
by. “How could you leave me like that? I know you didn’t have a choice, but if you can be here now, you could have been there for me then. Could have been there all these years.” Tears ran freely down her face, and I felt the sobs in her body. “I know it’s not your fault but I . . . I can’t do this right now. This will have to wait. I need a goddamn drink.” She flew off my lap, her sobs echoing in the room in her wake, and was gone before I could even think of a word to say to keep her there. When I heard the door slam, I looked back at my cousin.

  “What is going on, Gunnie?”

  She shrugged, pointed to her lips, shook her head, and then pointed to her ears before shrugging again. Something was keeping her from being heard. At least, by me. I was probably lucky to be seeing her right now.

  “Have you tried reaching out and talking to me?”

  She nodded.

  “When did this all start?”

  She pointed in the direction Hanlen had gone.

  “When Hanlen arrived?”

  She nodded again.

  Interesting . . . I thought about the necklace Hanlen wore.

  “Does it have anything to do with her veve?”

  She cocked her head and seemed to think for a minute then held her thumb and forefinger about an inch apart before shrugging again.

  Maybe a little.

  “Have you learned anything about your murder?”

  She shook her head and then stared off to where Hanlen had gone again, a look of wistfulness in her expression.

  “I felt soul magick in that pendant. Was that you? Did you do it recently? After death? It felt like departed power.”

  She nodded again.

  Well, that explained the strength and unusual feeling of the protection ward. My cousin had been a very strong practitioner back in the day, despite her age, and even though she’d had to keep it under wraps given the stigma of such things even as recently as ten years ago—even from those closest to her. Even in death, she would be able to work powerful magic. Which made her not being able to communicate properly extra infuriating.

  “I’ll get to the bottom of this, sweets,” I said, and watched as she nodded once more, tears glistening in her ethereal eyes again. “Will you be back?”

  She moved her head in agreement and then gestured to herself, crossing her arms over her chest before pointing at me and then outside. She would be back because she loved us.

  “Love you, too, Gun. So much. I’ve missed you.”

  She pointed to herself, held up two fingers—she missed me, too—then blew me a kiss and disappeared.

  I had a show to finish, but I also had to find Hanlen and make sure she was okay. The rest of the team could take care of things for a little bit.

  Chapter 23

  “To feel another’s life force as powerfully as your own, that is love.”

  ~Marty Rubin

  She walked out the door, and he stood, transfixed. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. From the time he’d first seen her dancing in the club all those years ago, he’d known he wanted to engage in a communion of blood and soul. He wanted her in him. Needed to possess her—make her his.

  And when she rolled back into town, and he saw her again, everything came crashing back. His darkness roiled, seeking and searching sustenance of the one being he felt would be his salvation, the one with the light his darkness was drawn to. He took it as a sign that this was his moment. This was the sacrifice and offering he had been looking for to make his other half happy.

  The one that got away.

  He took in her body language from across the way. She seemed upset. While he knew now that fear was like sweet ambrosia, and defeated acquiescence was tart like lemonade, he imagined anger would be like the best gumbo, spicy and kicking, warming him from the inside.

  He could so easily sneak up on her right now and snatch her, take her back to his lair and give her the eternal kiss, set her free, make her his in both body and, eventually, soul. Break her mind and take possession of that, as well. But it didn’t feel right. He wanted it to be perfect.

  Somehow, he knew that the moment would present itself tonight. Maybe not now, but later, for sure, she would be his. He would finally be able to look her in the eyes. He would finally be seen. Because he knew she would see him. And while he knew the cops believed that giving him an identity would remove his power, to him, it would only make him a god.

  Chapter 24

  Hanlen

  I didn’t know what to do with myself. Pacing the carriage house’s balcony and tugging at my hair, taking long drags from the flask, I tried to get myself under control. This was pain. It wasn’t truly anger, even though it presented itself that way. I didn’t understand any of this stuff. Maybe Ray had a good reason for not being able to let me know that she was fine. And Dev hadn’t kept the information from me about him being related to her on purpose, he simply didn’t think it was the right time to spill those particular beans. And I got that. I really did. Still, my heart and my head hurt, and I didn’t know what to do about any of it.

  I heard the French doors behind me open and felt a presence at my back. I knew who it was.

  “Are you okay?” Dev asked, his voice like melted chocolate.

  “I don’t know,” I answered, being truthful. “This is a lot, Dev. When I came back to town, I didn’t believe in any of this. And while I can’t discount anything I’ve seen and experienced, having it shoved in my face like this in such a personal way is a lot to take in.”

  “I know,” he said. “That’s why I didn’t say anything the other night when you told me Reagan’s full name. It just felt too . . . overwhelming. Even for me. I knew I’d get a chance to talk to you about it all later. But I didn’t expect Gunnie to be here.”

  I rubbed my hands up and down opposite arms. “Yeah, I know. I do. Doesn’t mean my emotions aren’t all over the place.”

  “I get that, too. I want to know what happened to her as much as you do. And it sucks that we can’t just get those answers. I want that almost as much as I want to find out who murdered my sister and stop this sicko from picking off people I care about. That you care about.”

  “Fucking asshole.” It was the only thing I could think to say, and it felt right in the moment. Good. I turned to Dev, and the look in his eyes disarmed me.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. And I knew he meant it.

  “You really don’t have anything to apologize for. I’m sorry I stormed out of there. It was just a bit much. Did I ruin the shoot?”

  “Not at all,” he assured me and moved closer, pulling me against his chest. I sighed and wrapped my arms around him, soaking in his strength. “Everybody else is still working, and the final product is the result of a bunch of careful editing to piece all the bits together into a narrative. We’ll get more footage later, too. It’ll all be good.” He kissed my head. “Promise.”

  I pulled back a bit to look up at him. “Are you sure?”

  He tucked my hair behind my ear as he so often did, and goosebumps erupted on my skin. “Absolutely. I should probably get back in there, though. We still have some things I need to finish up tonight in the main house. Are you all right?”

  I rubbed my hands over my head, smoothing my hair back, and turned to look out at the yard and the manor. “I’m fine. You should get back to it. I just need a few minutes to compose myself if that’s all right. Did Ray leave?”

  “She did. Something’s going on with her. She can’t communicate with me right now, and that’s never happened before. I’ll have to get to the bottom of it later. Actually . . .” He seemed nervous all of a sudden.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Would you mind if I borrowed your necklace for a bit? I’d like to see if me using it as a trigger object will help Larken and me tap into Gunnie’s energy better and speak with her. If it works, I promise we’ll come and get you immediately.”

  I shrugged. “Sure. Of course. Just don’t lose it.” I pulled it over my head and puddled
it in his outstretched palm.

  “Thanks. It’s safe with me,” he said and tipped up my chin. With a lingering look, his ocean-water pools took me in, and I felt my muscles loosen. He leaned in to kiss me, and I knew in that moment that he was mine. And I was his . . . if he’d have me.

  “I’d better get,” he said. “Are you going to be okay? Be able to make it back to the main house all right yourself once you’re ready?”

  “Yeah, I’m good. Get. I’ll see you in a few.” I rose on tiptoe and kissed him again, the words I wanted to say on the tip of my tongue. But it didn’t feel like the right time. I could tell him later when we were alone. When we could talk about it, and I could better gauge his mood and response. We had a lot of things to talk about if he was receptive to us being together, but that all could wait.

  For now.

  He ran his hand from my shoulder to my palm and let my fingers slip through his as he walked away, severing our connection at the very last moment. I hugged myself again and watched him go and then turned back to the woods, looking at the trees and the moon high in the sky.

  This trip had been one of many discoveries. Not the least of which was the core of who I was. I’d started this journey as a single-minded, jaded skeptic with no desire to be anything more and no care for what people thought of me, to someone who was now coming to believe in things beyond explanation and searched out human connection.

  I waited another few minutes with some deep breathing and a few more sips of whiskey for courage, then headed downstairs and out the back door of the carriage house.

  Just as I was rounding the corner, I felt a sharp pain in the back of my head, and my legs slipped out from under me. I saw the grass rushing up with dizzying speed as the flask fell from my fingers to clatter on the pavers.

  I was out before my head hit the ground.

  I woke to the smell of rot and mildew, mold and decay, and the feel of cold, rough stone under my body. Before I even opened my eyes, I knew where I was—the Arbor family cemetery, which rested just behind Bea and August’s cottage.