Of Fire and Storm: Piper Lancaster Series #2

by D. G. Swank

“Don’t you feel like you’re wasting your time helping me limp along?” I asked, wiping the dripping sweat from my brow.

  He’d been leaning over his bag, but he slowly stood upright, watching me with those guarded eyes. “I work for Kieran Abel. Mr. Abel told me to spend three hours a day training you to make sure you know how to use your daggers. It is not my place to question his directives.”

  “So you blindly follow him?” I shot back at him.

  His face hardened, and for the first time, I saw Davis get angry. “Is it your place to question my allegiance to Kieran Abel?”

  “No.” Again I wondered about his word choice. Question my allegiance. What kind of employee saw his contract with his boss as an allegiance? Then again, what kind of employee worked seven days a week? Not a normal one. Of course, Abel was no normal employer. It stood to reason he wouldn’t have normal employees, and if he really did deal with antiquities, they weren’t the kind you’d find in your grandmother’s garage.

  “Mr. Abel said to teach you to use your daggers in self-defense. He’ll have further instructions after he returns and evaluates your performance.”

  Abel was going to evaluate me? I wasn’t surprised by that, but it added a new element of pressure to my lessons. For some stupid reason, I didn’t want to disappoint him.

  Which meant I really needed to have my head examined.

  Davis gestured to the bathroom in the back of the building. “Go clean up.”

  I headed toward the bathroom, which served as another reminder of Abel’s power and influence. It had been completely renovated a few days after we started training. I’d never seen any workers, but over the course of a few days, a shower, toilet, and new sink had been installed along with a tile floor. Nana and Granddad’s bathroom renovation had taken five weeks. I needed to get the name of Abel’s contractor.

  As I started to shut the door, I saw Davis reach for his phone and make a call. I was far enough away that I couldn’t hear much of his conversation, but I definitely heard my name and the word “questioning.” He cast a glance in my direction, and I quickly shut the door.

  Was he reporting to Abel? I wouldn’t be surprised if he was. My fear was that he was reporting to someone else.

  Chapter 3

  When I got out to my car, I checked my phone and saw I had a message from Jack.

  Call me when you finish your session.

  Did he want to talk about last night? It was the logical explanation, but my stomach was still in knots as I made the call. The last time we’d seen each other face-to-face—hell, the last time we’d spoken to each other—we’d gone to Beaucatcher Mountain to rescue Rhys, who had been kidnapped by the Guardians. The group had wanted to make sure I could really kill demons with the daggers, so they’d kidnapped her to force me to demonstrate my abilities.

  Jack had gone after Rhys, and I’d stayed at Helen’s Bridge to face the demons. Abel had shown up, and while I’d managed to kill the demons after a fashion, a whole lot of bad things happened.

  Two demons killed three of the Guardians, but a fourth had gotten away. I almost died.

  “Thanks for getting back to me,” he said. “I really need to talk to you about something, and I think I should do it in person. Can you get away?”

  Part of me was disappointed he was all business. I’d missed him, and not just as a helper. “I have an eleven o’clock appointment, and then I need to go back to the house I visited last night. I’ll be free for a couple of hours after that.”

  “What happened? I got Rhys’s messages, but the last text she sent said ‘never mind.’ And since when did you start doing appointments at night?”

  “You’ve been pretty much out of contact with me for two weeks, Jack,” I said, more defiantly than I’d intended. “How would you know if I’ve been making evening appointments?” Then I remembered how quickly Rhys had thought to call him. “Rhys.”

  “She’s been keeping me informed.”

  “Why not just call me yourself?”

  “The voice,” he said quietly.

  That damn voice.

  A year ago, a mysterious voice had told me to quit law school. The voice had then told me to help my boyfriend at the time, Gill, with his ghost-hunting business.

  Jack and I had discovered a couple of weeks ago that the disembodied voice was something we had in common. It had been coaching him for even longer. Neither of us knew what it was, but it was hard to ignore.

  “So what changed your mind about talking to me?”

  He paused. “This seemed important. It’s about the Guardians.”

  Well, crap. “How about you meet us at the place Rhys called you from last night? I’ll tell you what happened, and then you can buy me lunch to make up for abandoning me too.”

  “Too?” he asked in confusion.

  “I’ll tell you about it later. Over tacos. I’ll send you Beth’s address. Plan on meeting us there at 12:15.”

  “Okay,” he said. “See you then.”

  “Jack?” I said softly. “It’s really good to talk to you.”

  He hesitated, then said, “It’s really good to talk to you too.”

  Thankfully, my first appointment went off without any complications. An older man’s wife had died the year before and had stuck around. Cases like that could be tricky. Half the time the deceased spouse didn’t want to leave the living one, especially if they’d been married for several decades, but the husband convinced the wife to move on, and I watched her walk through the giant tunnel of bright light that appeared.

  When I got to Beth’s house, Jack’s car was parked out front behind Rhys’s, and Beth’s car was in the driveway. Rhys and Jack were standing in the yard with Beth, and Jack was bent over looking at something. As I got out of the car, I realized he was examining what was left of the pile of ash.

  All three of them glanced toward me as I approached, and I sucked in a breath, caught off guard by the sight of Jack.

  Jack Owen was a very handsome man who wore his good looks as casually as a comfortable pair of jeans. His light brown hair had grown out a bit, and he looked tanner than the last time I’d seen him. The waver in his smile clued me in that he was nervous about showing up.

  “Rhys introduced me to Beth,” Jack said with an affable smile. “She prefers to wait outside while we look around inside.”

  The demon was dead and there was no way it was coming back, but I understood her hesitation. “This shouldn’t take long.”

  Beth nodded. “I just want to make sure that thing is really gone.” Her eyes darted to the car. “In fact, I’ll wait in there.”

  I knew what she was thinking—she’d have a quick getaway if anything went wrong.

  I cast a quick glance at the ash. While this particular demon wasn’t coming back, I suspected there would be plenty of others to take its place. Why had it picked this house?

  “I’m ready when you are,” Jack said.

  I felt much more confident than I had last night after realizing we were dealing with a demon. Daylight helped bolster courage, only one of the reasons I preferred to work during the day.

  Without a word, I headed to the front door and walked inside, then immediately turned around and walked out before Jack could follow me in.

  His brow furrowed in confusion.

  “We got stuck in here last night,” I said. “I take it Rhys didn’t have a chance to fill you in?”

  “The homeowner was already here when I arrived,” Rhys said. “I thought it best to tell him away from her.”

  “Good thinking.” I quickly caught Jack up to speed while I walked through the first floor. “Let’s head upstairs. Rhys, do you want to be in the middle or the rear?”

  She looked down at the bottle of holy water Jack had pulled out of his bag. “Middle.”

  I grinned. “More good thinking.”

  I headed up first, with Rhys close behind and Jack taking up the rear. I’d left my daggers in my bag, not expecting to encounter anything, which w
as why I was surprised when I reached the top of the staircase.

  The hair on my arms was tingling.

  I was sure it wasn’t a demon—I felt demons through the marks on my left hand, and right now, there wasn’t so much as a tickle there—but I usually only felt the presence of a ghost if we were up close and personal, and even then, the sensation was weak, something like static electricity.

  “Stay behind me,” I said in a low voice. “I think there’s a ghost up here, but I want you to stay back in case it’s violent too.”

  “Okay,” Jack said in a hushed tone.

  “You’ll let us know what you see, won’t you?” Rhys asked. “Since we can’t see it.” The fear in her eyes revealed she was more shaken up over last night’s close call than she was letting on.

  “I’ll talk you through the whole thing. I’ll be like that annoying commentary we listened to while we were watching the Olympic figure skating.”

  She rolled her eyes, but grinned. “You better.”

  My smile faded, and I took a deep breath as I walked into the craft room near the top of the stairs. Pausing, I tried to pinpoint the feeling.

  It was coming from the closet, and whatever was in there was crying.

  The door was open, so I squatted and made a coaxing motion with my fingers. “It’s okay to come out. You don’t have to be afraid.”

  A boy’s tiny face appeared, fear in his eyes.

  A little boy? Had he been here last night while I’d dealt with the demon? Probably. No wonder he was scared. “I won’t hurt you.”

  He inched toward me, revealing his beige, short-sleeved, button-down shirt; a brown sweater vest; and brown, tan, and cream plaid shorts. On his feet, he wore tan loafers and white ankle socks. From the style and color palette, it seemed safe to presume he hadn’t been alive for a few decades.

  “What’s your name?” I asked with a soft smile.

  “Thommy,” he said with a lisp. His two front teeth were missing.

  “Hi, Tommy. I’m Piper.”

  He glanced over my shoulder at the two people behind me and slinked back into the closet.

  “It’s okay. They’re nice. The girl with the pink stripes in her hair is my friend, Rhys.”

  He looked confused by her, but then he shrugged and said, “My nana has blue hair.”

  I grinned. “Your nana sounds pretty cool.”

  His gaze shifted.

  “That’s my friend Jack.” Then I gently asked, “How old are you?”

  “Five.” Tears filled his eyes. “I want Momma.”

  My chest tightened. Whenever I started to think I had the ghost whispering part of the job down, something like this happened. I had no idea how to handle it.

  “Rhys?” I said. “I’m talking to a five-year-old boy named Tommy who wants his momma. Can you help me out?” I asked, keeping my eyes on him. A couple of weeks ago, when I’d first started seeing ghosts after months of pretending, Abel had advised me to never turn my back on ghosts or demons.

  I wasn’t exactly afraid of the ghost of a little boy. Still, you couldn’t be too careful.

  Thinking of Kieran Abel made something in my chest physically ache, catching me off guard. Damn him. Talking about him with Davis must have opened the dam to my complicated feelings, but I couldn’t afford to think about him now. I was dealing with a scared ghost of a five-year-old, and I had no idea how to make this better.

  Rhys leaned in closer to me and whispered, “Tommy Whitfield was hit by a car in the street in front of his house in 1954.”

  I almost asked her how she’d found out so quickly, but I already knew. She and I had been partners in my ghost-hunting business for nearly six months, and up until two and a half weeks ago, she’d covertly researched my clients so I could use the information to “talk” to the ghosts they’d hired me to banish. Of course, back then I’d been working under the misapprehension that there were no ghosts. Now that I could interact with spirits directly, I no longer needed her research. Even so, I liked to have backup. Rhys now accompanied me on almost every visit, squeezing me in between her grad school classes. She’d clearly done her homework on Beth’s house after last night’s incident. She must have wanted to be prepared in case I ran into more trouble.

  “And his mother?” I whispered back.

  “She died about thirty years ago. The family moved soon after he died.”

  Crap.

  “Why is that other lady in my house?” Tommy asked.

  Was he talking about Beth? “Miss Beth lives here.”

  “Where’s Momma?” His chin trembled.

  I tried not to panic. “I’m not sure where your mother is.”

  “Piper,” Rhys said from behind me. “Maybe you could ask him to give you a tour of the house.”

  I wasn’t sure what good that was going to do, but maybe I’d come up with a plan somewhere along the way. I could at least get him to trust me. “Okay.”

  I fingered the black obsidian stone hanging on a chain at the base of my neck, the pendant Abel had given me. Reaching out a hand to Tommy, I said, “Will you show me around your house?”

  “Momma doesn’t like strangers twomping around.”

  “That’s okay,” I said, with a grin at his lisped tromping. “She wants me to be your friend.” At least I hoped so.

  “Will you help me find her?” he asked as a tear rolled down his cheek.

  “Yeah,” I said past the lump in my throat. “I’ll help you find her.” I still had no idea how to help him, but I couldn’t tell this scared little boy no.

  I’d figure out a way.

  I stood, my hand still extended. “Will you show me?”

  He nodded and carefully reached out to me. His hand was icy, and I felt a small electric current flow from him to me. He might have died young, but he was powerful.

  “This is my room.”

  I surveyed the room, swallowing a gasp. As I held his hand, my view of the room began to change. A little boy’s room was superimposed over my client’s craft room—a twin bed with a white and blue quilt was shoved against the wall, baseball pennants hanging above it. I’d seen plenty of ghosts at this point, but this was my first glimpse into their world.

  “I like your bed,” I said.

  “Momma got my bedspread at Sears. I got to pick it out myself.” Pride filled his voice. “Stevie wanted it, but Momma said it was mine.”

  I moved to the window that overlooked the backyard, shocked to see that it had also transformed. The trees were much smaller, and there were several translucent trees that had obviously been removed since Tommy’s death.

  This was new, but most of the apparitions I’d encountered hadn’t been deceased for over seventy years. And I didn’t make a habit of holding their hands.

  He pointed into the yard. “There’s my swing. Daddy put it up for my birthday last year.”

  A translucent tire swing swayed in a nonexistent wind.

  Tommy tugged my hand and led me to the door. I walked past Rhys, who glanced up from her phone. “I’m seeing what else I can find.”

  “And I’m going outside to talk to the homeowner,” Jack said. As I was the only one who could see Tommy, I suspected Jack felt the need to make himself useful elsewhere.

  I nodded, glad Beth was still outside, where she couldn’t see me holding hands with thin air. She’d already had to witness me fighting an invisible demon, and had surely filled her daily quota for freakish supernatural sightings.

  I could only imagine what she was going to say when Jack informed her the house hadn’t been cleared after all.

  Tommy smiled up at me as we headed down the stairs. There were photos on the wall that hadn’t hung there in decades, along with crisp blue and gray damask wallpaper. The living room was full of vintage furniture superimposed over Beth’s modern décor. The juxtaposition of two worlds was dizzying, like I’d been caught in a time warp.

  My head began to ache, and my stomach churned.

  Tommy led me through t
he vintage kitchen, making a beeline for a screen door that had been removed at some point over the decades. I released his hand just before he went through it. As soon as I lost contact, the vintage décor and the door both disappeared.

  “Come on, Miss Piper!” I heard him shout, so I hurried out the new kitchen door and found him standing under the massive oak tree, next to the tire swing.

  His face beamed with excitement. “Push me, Miss Piper. I can’t do it by myself.”

  “Okay.”

  He climbed onto the swing, his little feet hanging off the tire.

  I reached out and gave him a push. He squealed with delight, and I couldn’t help smiling. How long had it been since he’d swung out here? I took little comfort in the knowledge that most ghosts didn’t seem to have any concept of time. For all I knew, Tommy thought he’d been in this alternate reality for no more than a few days.

  “Are you in school?” I asked.

  “I’m in Miss Geyer’s kindergarten class.”

  “Is she nice?”

  “She’s swell.”

  “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  “Stevie is bigger than me.” The tire spun to the side and I could see a frown cross his face. “I don’t want to talk about Stevie.”

  “Okay,” I said. “We don’t have to.”

  But his mood was already spoiled. When my hand connected with his back to give him a push, I could see it was raining in his world.

  “I can’t get my shoes dirty. Momma will get mad.” He sounded worried.

  “We’ll make sure they stay clean,” I said.

  “The yard will get muddy.”

  “I’ll carry you in. Are you getting wet? Do you want to go in?” The thick tree canopy was keeping him dry.

  “No. I want to swing.” He was silent for a half minute, watching the house. Then the tire swing spun around and he faced me. I pushed his knees to keep him going.

  “Do you play sports?” I asked.

  His grin was back. “I play baseball. I’m center field.”

  “Wow. I bet you’re really good.”

  Tommy spent the next five minutes telling me about his team. While I was relieved he seemed to be more comfortable with me, I was no closer to solving his predicament. Most of the time my role was more or less straightforward: figure out what was holding the ghost back, help him or her come to terms with it, and ta-da—the light to the great beyond would appear. But Tommy wanted his mother and he didn’t know she was dead. I wasn’t sure breaking the news to him was the best idea. If I had the power to make the light appear on my own—and, given every other “talent” I’d grown into, it might be possible—that particular ability hadn’t manifested yet.