Black Candle

by H. P. Bayne

  Black Candle

  The Sullivan Gray Series

  H.P. Bayne

  Copyright © 2018 by H.P. Bayne

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Afterword

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  1

  The rain started late in the afternoon, moving from a drizzle to a shower to a full-out downpour in less than an hour.

  From the dry safety of the Black Fox pub, Sullivan “Sully” Gray watched the unfolding scene, the front end of a prediction that tonight’s storm was just the start of several days of weather bad enough to be dubbed “Biblical.”

  Kimotan Rapids—KR to those who called it home—was a city used to the rain, but that familiarity had its limits. This storm was expected to push everyone well past the point of comfort, bringing high winds, anticipated flooding and general carnage.

  Here in the Riverview neighbourhood, the area’s relatively safe position on the south bank was likely all anyone had to be grateful for today. At the Black Fox, where Sully worked as bartender, they’d expected a rush, given the anticipated need of shelter for those with few options. By five o’clock, they’d been proven right.

  Sully’s manager, Betty Schuster, sidled up to him and muttered in his ear. “What are the chances any of these people are actually going to buy a drink?”

  Sully smiled. Betty had been a fixture at the Fox almost as long as it had been there—far longer than Sully’s foster uncle, Lowell Braddock, had owned the place. Betty knew the lay of the land and, while she grumbled about the struggling Riverview area and the Fox’s regulars, Sully knew a good heart beat beneath the gruff exterior. She’d be fine with people sheltering in here as long as they behaved themselves and didn’t try to steal or break anything.

  Sully and Betty slung drinks for a while for those who had the money, offering water to the others. It was a few hours before a lull allowed for a quick break, and Sully headed to the back to get away from the crowd. Cracking the door to the rear parking area, he saw a police cruiser pull to a stop.

  Sully watched as his older brother, Dez Braddock, unfolded his six-foot-six, muscular frame from the driver’s seat and stretched the kinks out before trotting over and ducking through the door. Dez took a moment to brush the rain from his cropped red hair and the shoulders of his uniform before greeting Sully.

  “Weather’s a bitch, huh?”

  “Doesn’t look good.”

  Dez scoped the bar from the employee entrance, then returned to Sully. “Pretty packed house in there.”

  “People need a place to stay dry until the shelters open.”

  “Everyone behaving? No one’s looking like they’re going to get out of control?”

  Sully quirked up a corner of his mouth, one eyebrow following suit. Dez’s ploy was obvious, the consummate protector aiming to ensure Sully was okay and would stay that way.

  “No one’s really got the money to get out of control,” Sully said. “A few people are drinking, but we don’t sell it by the bottle. Not many people in there today are eager to dish out four bucks for a beer or five for the hard stuff.”

  Dez nodded, satisfied—for now, anyway. Sully had no doubt he’d be back to check in within a couple hours, as long as he didn’t end up on a longer call.

  “You working a night shift?” Sully asked.

  “Swing, two to two.”

  “What about Eva?”

  “She’s on days right now, so at least I get to see her at night for a bit. Sometimes I think it would be nice if we were on the same shift, but I guess it’s still working a little better this way for Kayleigh.”

  “How is she?”

  Dez chuckled. “Terrible threes.”

  “I thought they stopped at two.”

  “Not with my kid. Mom said I was a real asshole at that age, so she figures I had it coming. You need to come over. She’s always good with you.”

  “Mom, you mean? Yeah, she always liked me better.”

  Dez giggled and elbowed Sully. A guy his size giggling might have raised a few eyebrows, but not among those who knew him. Dez had the stature of a bear, but he was more teddy than grizzly—as long as you didn’t cross the people he loved. A man as ready with his emotions as he was could also be quick to anger under the right circumstances. Thankfully, with Dez, those occasions were few and far between.

  “What’s the plan for tonight?” Sully asked. “If things get crazy out there, I mean?”

  “Those of us on the swing shift could wind up with OT if things go sideways. If things go really bad, Eva’s shift might be called back in, too, but that’s a worst-case scenario.”

  “What counts as worst case?”

  Dez shrugged. “We’ll know it when we see it, I guess. But full evacuation of The Forks for starters. Gateway Dam overflowing would be taking things up another level yet. Fingers crossed it won’t get as bad as they’re predicting. “

  Dez might have been the protective older brother, but he didn’t corner the market on worry. “Be careful out there, D, okay? Don’t do anything stupid.”

  Dez beamed down at Sully. “When have you ever known me to do anything stupid?” Sully raised his eyebrows, leading to another laugh from the larger male. “Yeah, okay, point taken, kiddo. I’ll be careful. Promise.”

  Sully decided against arguing. It wouldn’t get him anywhere, anyway. “You have time for a drink? I could get you a soda.”

  Dez checked his watch. “Ah, hell, why not? I’ve got nothing going at the moment.”

  Dez followed Sully into the bar where Sully pulled a cola for his brother and another for himself. With standing room only tonight, they hovered around the end of the bar, watching Betty’s futile-yet-unending attempt to remove a stain from the bar’s surface.

  “I think it’s part of the wood grain,” Sully said. “But she won’t listen. It drives her nuts.”

  Dez chuckled. “Probably my fault. That time I came in here to wash up after I had to pull that suspect out of the dumpster? I told her I put that stain there.”

  Sully grinned but gave Dez a shove anyway. “You’re such a jerk.”

  Dez was readying to shove Sully back when his face registered recognition. “Bulldog! How’s it hanging?”

  Sully followed Dez’s gaze to see Billy “Bulldog” Bird lumbering over, his face even limper than usual. Bulldog had earned his nickname thanks to a fine set of jowls and a temperament that ranged from loyal and friendly when sober to snarling and snapping when drunk. Bulldog, as far as Sully knew, slept in the park most nights along with numerous other homeless people, at least until temperatures started to drop in the fall. At that point, he and the others started clamouring for space at the shelters or searching for friends who would give up the use of their sofas for a few months. Bulldog had stayed with Sully a few times during the winter months when he’d been too drunk to safely make it anywhere else.

  It was too early for Bulldog to be drunk;
he liked to drink but it didn’t rule his life, and he typically preferred to stay fully sober until the sun set. But a sober Bulldog was usually laughing and joking, and this Bulldog—the one coming toward them with deadened eyes and a miserable, drooping face—wasn’t that guy.

  “What’s going on with you?” Dez asked.

  “Not here, Copper. People are gonna think I’m a snitch.”

  “You are.”

  “Piss off.”

  Sully led the way into the back, pulling up a chair for Bulldog. A quick study of the man failed to reveal if he was depressed about something or if he was ill, as his face tended toward flushed at the best of times. Either way, it looked like he needed to sit down. They all knew it had been a rough few months for him, even by the high standards set by the street.

  Dez leaned against the wall and regarded the older man. “Okay. We’re alone. What's up?”

  “I don’t know, Copper. Things have been shitty lately. Just having a down day, I guess. I can’t explain it.”

  But Sully could.

  The back area was lit by a couple of dim bulbs that barely made a dent in the shadows lingering in the corners. Out of one, a woman emerged, long black hair and shadow obscuring much of her face, hands bound and held out before her, one cupped around the other. While he could make out little of her eyes, the way her head was angled made it clear her attention was on Bulldog.

  She materialized at Bulldog’s side and remained there, staring. Just staring. And now, the distance to her lessened, Sully recognized some of the shadow around her face and neck as something else. Bruises.

  “Sully, what?”

  Sully inhaled sharply, startled by his brother’s question. “Huh?”

  “What are you loo—” Dez broke off mid-question, his expression and his movements revealing he’d clued in. Dez was one of the handful of people who knew, and he’d safeguarded Sully’s secret since childhood. Dez had been all about helping his new foster brother find his way in life back then; part of the master plan was ensuring no one knew Sully could see the dead.

  It was a detail Dez was plenty happy to ignore where possible, terrified as he was by the mere thought of ghosts. Pity for him, because Sully’s life had been filled with them.

  Dez gave up his spot by the wall, approaching Sully and tugging at the smaller man’s T-shirt to pull him toward the stairs, removing the two of them to a spot where conversation would remain private. Bulldog didn’t so much as look up, his attention anywhere but on the brothers. But Sully had a hard time looking away as the spirit raised her arms and brought them down in a chopping motion against Bulldog’s right shoulder. The assault would have knocked a man to the floor had the woman solid limbs to work with. Something registered nonetheless, and Bulldog reached up to rub lightly at the shoulder before dropping back into thought. The woman raised her arms again, this time higher and aiming for Bulldog’s head.

  “Stop it,” Sully said. The woman’s head snapped up, and Sully could make out one blackened, milky-white eye staring at him through a gap in the hair before she vanished.

  Sully had at last succeeded in gaining Bulldog’s attention. “Stop what?”

  “Give us a second,” Dez said, towing Sully a few more feet away. Then, “Where is it?”

  “She’s gone. For now, anyway.”

  Dez heaved a sigh that would have been comical had it not been for everything Sully had just seen.

  “I think she’ll be back, though.”

  Dez looked up sharply. “Where? Here?”

  “If I say yes, you’ll never come back, will you?”

  Dez shifted from one foot to the other. “Of course I’d … Jesus, Sull. You know I hate this stuff.”

  “You know how I told you ghosts sometimes haunt people, not places?”

  “That’s why you end up with all the extras from ‘Sixth Sense’ hovering around you.”

  “A lot of them have found me because they think I can help. But this one’s not haunting me. I think she’s hanging around Bulldog. It probably explains why he’s been so depressed lately. They can impact people’s moods and health without anyone knowing. Sometimes the stronger ones can even influence people’s actions.”

  Dez paled behind his freckled tan. “So she’s not hanging around you then?”

  Sully quirked up the side of his mouth. As much as it bothered Dez to be anywhere on the same block with a ghost, he’d never backed down to the idea of one when Sully needed him. Sully had learned to tolerate his unwanted visitors over the years, but his childhood had been terrifying. After he’d been placed at age seven with the Braddocks, he’d spent many a night tucked up in bed next to his new foster brother while Dez, three years his senior, prattled on about whatever came to mind until Sully fell asleep. Judging by the bags under Dez’s eyes in those days, he hadn’t found sleep as quickly, and Sully imagined he’d spent another hour or two searching the lamp-lit room for invisible intruders. And yet Dez never complained, never once sent Sully back to his own room. He’d simply sucked back his own fear so he could help Sully through his.

  “No, this one’s not on me. She seems pretty fixated on Bulldog.”

  Dez’s relief showed in the relaxing of facial muscles and the release of shoulders, but he didn’t look a whole lot happier. “I hate to ask, but what does she look like?”

  “Long, black hair, Indigenous, I think. Her hands were tied in front of her. The hair was in front of her face, so I couldn’t make out much for features, but it looked like she had a black eye. And there were bruises around her neck, I’d say from hands.”

  “Like she was strangled,” Dez said. A statement, not a question.

  “You know her.”

  “Breanna Bird. She was Bulldog’s younger sister. I’m not sure if you remember it from the news, but they found her body a month ago. Major Crimes didn’t release many details publicly, but she was found pretty much exactly as you just described.”

  Dez leaned down, as if the hushed tone of their conversation was no longer enough.

  “You only see them when someone’s killed them, when they’re after justice, right?” He didn’t wait for the answer; he already knew it well. “We busted the guy who killed her. Breanna’s common-law confessed. I mean, Danny hasn’t been all the way through the courts yet, but he’s charged and in custody, and the case is a pretty good one, I think. What do you think she’d be after?”

  Given what Dez had said, Sully couldn’t imagine. “No idea. But whatever it is, she seems pretty intent on getting it.”

  2

  Dez managed to score himself a dinner break, allowing him to stay a bit longer at the bar.

  And Betty had business well in hand, giving Dez, Sully and Bulldog some extra time to sort through Breanna’s sudden appearance.

  In all honesty, Dez would have liked to be anywhere else, ghosts right up there with contagious disease and ballet when listing the topics he least liked to discuss. But he was well enough versed in Sully’s visions—or gift or curse or whatever it was—to know there had to be something to this. The Major Crimes unit had put this case to bed a couple of weeks ago, having moved on to a particularly disturbing home invasion that had left an elderly man dead. There were some loose ends to tie up on the Breanna Bird case, true, but the bulk of the investigation was complete.

  That said, it was now quite possible there was more loose about the case than just a few wayward strands. It could be the whole thing was about to unravel.

  Sully had pulled up a chair next to Bulldog, allowing them to speak quietly while Dez monitored from his spot along the wall. He liked to position himself somewhere he could watch Sully’s eyes. If they fixed on something Dez couldn’t see, he would know which area of the room to avoid. He’d never seen one of Sully's ghosts despite the knowledge he’d shared plenty of space with them over the years. He’d be happy to keep it that way.

  Sully was working on easing Bulldog into this world gradually. “You’ve been feeling tired and sick for a while now,
haven’t you?”

  Bulldog nodded slowly.

  “Since your sister died?”

  “Yeah, I think that’s what started it. She was a good girl, you know? She had a big heart, always gave me a place to stay when I was in her neck of the woods. Hard to get past something like that happening to her.”

  “Grief’s a bitch,” Dez said. He knew grief. He’d carried it his whole life.

  “Who’d you lose?”

  Dez scuffed a boot across the floor, focused on its progress to avoid sinking too deeply into memory. “My brother Aiden. I was eight. He was just five.”

  “Jesus, that’s the shits. What happened?”

  Dez didn’t want to go too far down that path. Not now. Not ever, come to that. “He drowned.”

  The two words took Dez back there anyway, standing in a funeral home, trying to rationalize how Aiden’s whole body, small as it was, fit into that tiny urn. For months after, he’d looked for him, listened for his laughter, prayed he’d wake up and discover it was all a vivid nightmare. Instead, he was left with the unwavering reality he’d never be able to take back that final morning when he’d been too annoyed to play his little brother’s game of hide and seek. Dez hadn’t found him, hadn’t even tried, not until it had become brutally obvious there was no longer anyone there to find.

  Dez had gone to bed that first night to the sound of his mother’s tears and the knowledge his father would be out all night with the search party Dez hadn’t been allowed to join. He had prayed he’d wake up to see Aiden poking him awake as he often did, his impish smile prodding him into one annoying game or another. Instead, Dez had awoken to a godawful quiet, broken only the next day by his mother’s screams as she was told they’d found Aiden dead along the banks of Kettle-Arm Creek. Ever since, Dez carried the knowledge Aiden had been down there because of him. Because he had been so frustrated with Aiden he’d momentarily wished him away.