by Barb Hendee
But really, this entire affair was too tedious. If the money hadn’t already been transferred into his account, he might have pleaded a headache and begged off. But that wouldn’t do either. He and Ivory were there for a reason—for this reason—and they were being well paid.
Mr. Renault sat down across from Christian. Strain and sorrow had caused deep creases around his eyes.
“Who is it that I am calling from the other side?” Christian asked. He normally made a point of being told almost nothing before meeting the client for the séance. That made the whole event seem even more miraculous.
“My wife, Debra.”
Christian forced his expression to exude controlled compassion. “I will try for you. The spirits often speak to me. Do you know precisely what you wish to ask her?”
Mr. Renault nodded. “Yes.”
Christian instantly entered his mind again, but going deeper now, seeing images of an attractive woman in her forties, with cropped auburn hair and a warm smile. All Christian had to do was get Mr. Renault to think of the words he needed to hear, and then Christian could have Ivory parrot them back. This wouldn’t take long.
Vera had the servants sit, and then everyone joined hands. Even after nearly a week, this room still appalled Christian. It was just so…overstuffed. But he’d always known that real money and good taste did not necessarily go hand in hand. Poor Vera was lonely, and perhaps all the things taking up space made her feel less so.
He closed his eyes. “Debra Renault, I call to you from the other side. Hear me. Come to us now.”
An incredibly clear image flashed through Mr. Renault’s mind. Debra was dressed in jeans and a cable-knit sweater. She was near tears and seemed to be trying not to grab her husband’s arm.
Unfortunately, due to his scattered state of mind—over that unsettling phone call—Christian had not prepared himself for the onslaught of emotion, and so Mr. Renault’s guilt and sorrow suddenly hit him hard. He had to fight to keep his eyes closed.
What’s wrong? Ivory flashed.
Nothing. Stay with me.
“Debra, is that you?” he said aloud. “Are you with us?”
But just as he finished asking the question, Vera’s cook screamed. “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
The sound was loud and long, and then Vera gasped and Mr. Renault was shouting. “What in the hell…?”
“Who disturbs the peace of the dead?” shouted a deep male voice with a heavy Scottish accent.
Christian opened his eyes.
To his complete shock, a transparent, six-foot-tall Scottish Highlander was floating four or five inches above the floor on the other side of the room—near a collection of Egyptian statues.
The cook was still screaming, and Mr. Renault was on his feet now.
“That is not Debra!”
“Who disturbs the dead?” the ghost shouted again, and he sailed up into midair, flying over the table and swooshing toward Christian. On instinct, Christian ducked, and Ivory dashed off her chair to one side.
“You will pay!” the ghost yelled, turning in midair and swooshing back again.
Vera jumped up so quickly she knocked the candelabra over, spreading hot candle wax across the table. Even the stoic Simmons looked alarmed as he watched the Scottish ghost flying around the room.
The cook went on screaming, and Mr. Renault’s face had gone quite red.
Christian had absolutely no idea what to do.
Once Mary reached the correct area near Puget Sound, she had no trouble zeroing in on two undead signatures, and within moments, she’d located the mansion.
Wow, she thought, taking in the exterior. Fancy.
From what she could sense out here, both vampires appeared to be located near the center of the house on the main floor, so she blinked out and rematerialized in what appeared to be a guest room directly above them.
Looking around, she couldn’t help thinking, wow, again, only for different reasons. The outside of the house seemed so regal. This room didn’t fit her expectations. It was just stuffed with tables, brocade-covered settees, vases, huge brass lamps, and paintings covering every square inch of the walls, and nothing seemed to go with anything else.
She didn’t look around too long, however, and floated downward in a horizontal position so she could pass through the floor and allow just her face to be able to peek through the ceiling downward. People were sitting around a table with their hands joined, and she’d just started to take stock of everyone when a third undead presence hit her senses…only this one was different, less distinct and more ethereal.
Not a vampire.
A ghost. She could feel the difference.
A second later, Seamus materialized in the sitting room for everyone to see!
“Who disturbs the peace of the dead?” he shouted.
She nearly gasped aloud, but someone down below was screaming, and people were shouting, and candle wax was flying, and Seamus was sailing around the room, diving at a pretentious-looking vampire with a young face and steel gray hair.
Mary missed some of the shouting and then heard Seamus yell, “You will pay!”
What in the hell was he doing? Suddenly Mary found herself fighting not to laugh out loud. He had almost everyone in the room either furious or scattering or screaming in panic. She had nothing at all against Seamus. In spite of the fact that he worked for the other side, he’d been kind to her once when she’d badly needed a bit of kindness.
She was seized by an urge to blink down there and help him. Between the two of them, they could cause quite a scene.
But she held off. That wasn’t her purpose here.
Seamus floated directly in front of the male vampire’s face and said, “Do not disturb the peace of the dead again.”
Then he vanished.
Mary still couldn’t believe he’d just exposed himself like that. Seamus had seemed so…so reserved. He was clearly up to something. But what?
Down below, the scene had degraded into both vampires trying to calm everyone else down, and then Mary started wondering if Seamus had sensed her as clearly as she’d sensed him. She had a location and a visual confirmation of the vampires. Maybe she should just get out of here.
“Mary,” said a deep voice from behind her.
She floated up swiftly and whirled to see him floating near the door. He had sensed her. He wasn’t angry. His expression was almost sad as he gazed at her. God, he was big. She took in the sight of his shaggy brown hair and the blue and yellow plaid over his shoulder.
“Is Julian here?” he asked.
She knew she should blink out instantly, but instead she answered. “Yes.”
“Don’t tell him anything. Don’t tell him where we are.”
“I have to.”
“Mary,” he said again, still sad but floating toward her.
This time she vanished, and when she rematerialized in the courtyard outside, she waited just long enough to make sure he didn’t follow.
He didn’t.
For some reason, she was slightly disappointed that he hadn’t even tried.
A half hour later, Christian finally slipped inside his room and closed the door, leaning back against the frame, trying to figure out what had just taken place and if he’d handled the damage control adequately.
Although Mr. Renault may have presented a tedious spiritual request, he was an important figure in Vera’s circle, and Christian had done some very fast talking about “crossed messages” and “an unfortunate receiver” somehow intercepting Christian’s call to the other side. All the while, he was reading Renault’s thoughts and reveling in relief that the man was not ready to give up, but was still quite angry—and disappointed.
Christian assured him that such a thing had never happened before, and Vera rushed in to help support this claim. In the end, they rescheduled. Christian said he could not go on tonight, and Renault had agreed.
However, alone in the quiet of his room, he closed his eyes, and the shaky feeli
ng at his core was beginning to expand. First that unsettling phone call…and now this? As he had no idea what had truly transpired tonight, he had no idea how to stop it from ever happening again.
A real ghost? Is that what they’d all really seen?
“Over here,” said a deep voice with a Scottish accent.
Christian opened his eyes. The tall, transparent ghost was floating beside the bed. He looked as calm as a summer breeze, and Christian wondered if the emotional outburst in the sitting room had been a ruse.
“That wasn’t very nice,” he said, hoping to buy a few minutes in order to take control here and get the upper hand.
“We tried being nice,” the ghost answered. “Eleisha phoned you. You hung up on her.”
Christian froze. The girl who’d called him last night and this ghost were connected?
“I swear on my honor she’s not working for Julian,” the ghost went on. “But she needs to talk to you. Tonight. You get Ivory and borrow a car from Vera’s garage. Go to McMenamin’s Pub on Roy Street. But you have to bring Ivory. She needs to hear what Eleisha has to say.”
The ghost knew Ivory’s name and was making demands of her as well? This was too much.
“Forgive me,” Christian said, allowing a small bit of the anger he felt to seep into his voice. “But your honor means nothing to me, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“If you don’t, I’ll start showing up at every séance you hold, and I’ll make that little show tonight seem tame. Just try me.”
Anger began shifting into real anxiety. Christian was cornered—and he never let himself get cornered. As an experiment, he reached out with his mind, trying to read the ghost’s thoughts, but he found nothing, as if there were no one else in the room.
“She just wants to talk,” the ghost said. “I swear.”
To his own humiliation, Christian heard himself begin to bargain. “What does she want to tell us? Why can’t you tell me yourself?”
The ghost waved a transparent hand in the air dismissively. “Are you going?”
Christian stood there a moment, with his back against the doorframe. He didn’t see a choice—at least not yet. “Tell her we’ll be there in an hour.”
The ghost nodded, watched him for a few seconds as if deciding whether to believe him or not, and then vanished.
Alone again, Christian let his thoughts roll for any way out of this, but nothing came to him, and he wasn’t about to just cut his losses here and run. Not now.
Stripping off his sport coat, he walked to the closet and opened it. A sheathed short sword leaned against the back wall. He grabbed it and strapped it to his belt. Then he took a long coat from a hanger and put it on, buttoning it up to his chest.
Ivory, he flashed. Get up here.
Upon waking that night in the hotel room bed, Eleisha realized there was really nothing they could do until they’d heard from Seamus—who’d suggested he had some sort of plan. But she wasn’t worried yet. They’d only arrived in the wee hours of the previous night, and so this second night in Seattle would be their first full night of action, and she had faith in herself and her companions. They would make progress…somehow. After getting dressed, she fussed about with their luggage for a while and then turned on the television and asked Philip to choose a movie from the list of pay-per-view films. About two hours after that, Wade reached over and picked up the room service menu…and she was still wondering how she might get him off alone somewhere to tell him what she’d seen in Philip’s memories. Before they launched into any kind of action here, he really needed to know, and she still couldn’t bring herself to talk about it right in front of Philip. He seemed to be feeling better now, but he’d been so disturbed by the images, she feared that discussing them aloud with Wade might send Philip back inside himself again.
She’d dressed carefully tonight, in a sleeveless linen blouse with brass buttons, a new pair of jeans, and black boots. She’d also pinned part of her hair up and let some of the wisps fall loose.
“I like your hair like that,” Philip said, but he always said that if she did anything with her hair.
Wade glanced up from the room service menu. “What do you suppose Seamus is going to do tonight? I’m still trying to figure out what he meant by ‘giving’ Christian a ghost.” He paused. “You don’t suppose he’s going to…”
The air shimmered right next to him, and Seamus materialized, looking exhausted, his colors more transparent than usual.
“I’ve got him,” he said immediately. “I interrupted a séance he was holding and embarrassed him. He and Ivory will meet you at McMenamin’s Pub on Roy Street in less than an hour.”
Eleisha jumped to her feet. “What?”
Seamus shook his head, as if he had no intention of repeating himself. His colors were still fading, and she could see he needed to get back to Rose. “Just meet him there,” he said. “But you need to get there first and keep a close watch. Julian’s already here in the city.”
Wade sucked up a breath, and Philip jumped up off the couch.
“No,” Wade said, shaking his head. “We just got here ourselves. There’s no way he could have—”
“Did you see him?” Philip interrupted.
“No,” Seamus answered. “I saw Mary, but she told me he’s here.”
Wade shook his head in confusion. “Who’s Mary? And what do you mean she ‘told you’?”
Seamus’ expression twisted in frustration, almost anger. “The girl ghost. But she doesn’t want to serve him. He’s holding something over her head. I know he is.”
The vehemence in his voice startled Eleisha, but that wasn’t her main concern. She was stunned at the news of Julian’s arrival. She’d known he would come after them eventually—as he always had before whenever they undertook a mission. But since they’d acted so quickly and rushed up here, she’d assumed they would have time to meet Christian and Ivory, gauge each other, and decide on the next step.
In centuries past, even vampires who didn’t live together had at least known of each other, kept in contact, written letters…and so even if Christian and Ivory didn’t want to return to the underground, they deserved to have contact with others of their own kind. Eleisha would never let fear of Julian put a stop to this.
But his arrival here in Seattle changed things. She hadn’t even been able to get off a warning to these two vampires.
“How did he learn about our trip here so quickly?” she asked.
“Probably the same way you did,” Seamus answered, sounder weaker. “He has his own ghost, Mary.”
It bothered her that he was now calling Julian’s ghost girl by her first name. When did that happen? And why did he sound so…protective?
And what in the world had he done to convince Christian to meet them in a pub?
Seamus’ colors wavered, and she stepped forward. He was on the verge of exhaustion. “Go to Rose. We’ll meet Christian, but when you’re stronger…we need to talk.”
Without nodding, he vanished. For all the confusion and worry he’d just caused, he had succeeded, and a meeting had been set up. But if Julian was here in the city, they needed to go right now.
However, Wade couldn’t walk into this meeting without knowing a few things, and there was no time or opportunity to tell him aloud. They’d all made a pact not to enter each other’s heads without warning, but she didn’t see a choice.
Philip started walking toward his coat, and he was momentarily distracted.
Don’t change your expression, she flashed into Wade’s mind. Just listen. Philip let me read some early memories, from just after he was turned. Christian was in one of them, so he’s an elder. That means he knows the laws, he’s over two hundred years old, and he somehow escaped Julian.
The barest flicker passed across Wade’s face. But she couldn’t read it.
Philip was busy buttoning his coat.
Why didn’t you tell me? Wade flashed back.
No time. Philip was too freaked out, a
nd I haven’t seen you alone.
“Ready?” Philip asked from the door, watching them both with a slight frown.
Eleisha grabbed her bag from the table. “Ready.”
Julian walked back into his hotel room to find Mary there waiting for him.
She stared at him coldly for a few seconds, almost quizzically, as if trying to figure him out. He didn’t speak and just waited.
“I’ve got an address, near the waterfront on Cherry Loop. Two vamps. Both are at home.”
“What do they look like?”
“He’s got a young face, but his hair’s gone totally gray…good-looking, nose up in the air like you.”
The description meant nothing to Julian. Most of the elders were haughty, but he’d never known one with a young face and gray hair, although this simply supported Eleisha’s statement that Christian was an unknown elder who’d managed to avoid being listed in Angelo’s book.
“The girl’s pretty,” she went on, “but kinda typical…you know, skinny, blond, low-cut dress, blah blah blah.” She tilted her head to one side as if considering something.
“And?” he asked.
“I wasn’t there very long, but I got the feeling the guy’s definitely the one in charge.”
Mary’s instincts were normally good, so he filed that information away. It suggested that Christian was the oldest of the duo and he’d probably turned the woman himself. But Mary still seemed thoughtful, as if deciding on whether or not to tell him something else. He didn’t like that.
“What?”
She shook her head. “That’s it. You want me to meet you there?”
He couldn’t help feeling that she was holding something back from him. But there wasn’t much he could do about it. She gave him the full address, and he didn’t bother taking off his coat or his sword while calling to arrange for a car.
chapter six
Eleisha sat in a large corner booth at McMenamin’s Pub. She and Wade were on one side, and Philip was on the other. Every inch of the interior of this place seemed to be made from dark wood. Normally she liked wooden décor, but the effect here was slightly suffocating. It was also a good thing two of them couldn’t eat food and that Wade wasn’t hungry. They’d been sitting for nearly twenty minutes, and no one had even brought them a menu or a glass of water—not that Eleisha gave this much thought.
