Flight From Death

by Yasmine Galenorn

  “We’ve got a lot of puzzle pieces here.” I frowned. “Can you print out all that information? Will they let you?”

  He glanced at the usage rules. “For a dollar a page. We just take the document numbers up to the main desk and pay them, and they’ll print it out for us. I guess that’s all we’re going to find out here.”

  “It’s more than I expected to find, to be honest.” I gathered my tote bag and we headed for the front desk. There, we signed out, paid for our documents, and showed them the inside of my tote and Ralph’s backpack.

  “Do people really steal the books from here?” It seemed ridiculous when you could just print out the information for a low fee.

  The clerk behind the counter gave us a smile. “What can I say? There’s stiff competition in the genealogical circles and it can get pretty nasty at times. We have to keep a close watch on all documents in here—the actual documents, not what gets printed and what doesn’t. People like owning a piece of their past, especially those who are fiercely into hunting down their ancestry. Some of the country clubs require proof of lineage for certain levels of membership. It’s a status symbol for many.”

  This was sounding a little too close for comfort, given the nature of my birth and my standing in the Dragon Reaches. I said nothing as I took the papers from her, and Ralph handed her over three dollars for three pages’ worth of information. She waved us out and we headed back to the car.

  “One stop left, then. I guess we go see Toby, then grab a bite to eat. Does he know we’re coming?”

  I shook my head. “I haven’t called yet. I know where he works, and thought he might be more likely to talk to us if we just showed up.” I shut the door of the car and hunted through my purse. I was hungry. I ate a lot in human form, but not nearly the amount I consumed in my dragon shape. And I burned it off. Luckily, I had discovered the joys of protein bars. As I opened a chocolate-chip, cherry-flavored one, I added, “We have to figure out what we’re going to tell him, though, because I think Tonya’s right. If he knows we’re helping a friend of the man who destroyed his family’s livelihood? You can bet he’s not going to want to talk to us.”

  “Then we’d better think of a good cover before we go in.” Ralph started the car and we eased out of the parkway, bouncing ideas off each other as I looked up the address for the mechanic’s garage where Toby was employed.

  CHAPTER 8

  The En-Royale Garage was along the waterfront. We pulled around back. Toby was supposed to be working, although we could easily miss the mark and get here on his day off. But when we wandered into the reception area, Ralph nudged me and nodded toward a man in mechanic’s coveralls. He was about five seven, with dark tousled hair and piercing eyes, and he was focused on some part of the engine. I had no clue what, but he was giving it a puzzled look that I recognized all too well as bewilderment. The smell of oil and gas hung in the air, and grease from the cars. I grimaced, not liking the smell at all.

  We were about to head over when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I whirled around to see Chai looming over me. He was dressed, at least—and fully, in a T-shirt that stretched across those broad shoulders of his, and jeans. His hair pulled back into a high ponytail and the massive ring in one ear weren’t the only things that made him stand out. Dressed to fit in or not, the fact remained that Chai was still seven feet tall, with eyes that could never quite pass for human.

  “Chai, what are you doing here?” I glanced around, but there was no way he could vanish now without attracting attention.

  Ralph gaped up at him. “Hello? I don’t . . . think . . . Shimmer, who is this?”

  I rubbed my forehead, suddenly tired. “Chai, meet Ralph. Ralph, meet Chai. Chai is a friend of mine—he’s a djinn. He was supposed to be staying at my house watching after my fish.”

  “Chai. Like the tea?”

  “Yes. I have no idea where he got the name, but you can ask him later.” I pulled Chai to one side. “What are you doing here?”

  “I got worried about you. I had the feeling something was wrong and decided to trace you down and check on you. Are you all right, Little Sister?” Chai reached under my chin and chucked it.

  I batted his hand away. “So far, but I need you to leave. Through the door. Wait outside for us, okay?” As I pushed him toward the door, he just shrugged and sauntered off. After he left the building, I turned back to Ralph. “Sorry . . . he means well. He’s a good sort—djinn or not. And he’s exuberant. Kind of like a very smart, very large puppy.”

  Ralph was trying not to laugh. I could see it in his face. “Okay, then. I’ll remember that. Puppies can bite, you know.” He nodded at Toby, who had—for the moment—given up on whatever he was trying to do and now was cupping a mug of coffee, leaning back in his chair. “I think we should go talk to him now, while he’s taking a break.”

  “Makes sense to me.” I led the way over to the man. He was about thirty-five, maybe forty by the looks of him. “Toby Buckland?”

  He jumped a little as I spoke. “What?” Apparently he’d been deep in thought. “I mean, yes . . . I’m Toby. What can I do for you? Are you being helped?” He glanced around, but the garage was so busy that nobody else seemed to have really noticed our presence, which could be a good thing, in our case.

  “We’re not customers, thank you. We wanted to know if you had a few minutes to speak to us? It’s about your family and the house on W Street.” As I spoke, a veiled look came over his eyes and he frowned. “I promise, we won’t take up too much of your time. Please, it’s important.”

  “Follow me.” He nodded toward what looked like a conference room. Once we were inside, he shut the door. The half window allowed us to see what was going on out in the main garage. He motioned for us to sit at the table. “Okay, who are you and what do you want?”

  I glanced at Ralph. We’d discussed our approach on the way over. “We’re investigators writing a piece on the historical significance of houses in the area. We have noted there have been some strange goings-on reported where you used to live—on W Street? We were wondering if you could give us any history of the house or land.”

  He looked confused. “What the hell? I’m sorry, but no. I didn’t live there very long, just when I was a little boy. My father lost the house in a business deal gone wrong and we had to move by the time I was eight years old. I don’t remember much about it.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “That’s not why you’re really here, is it? You might get further if you just tell me the truth.”

  I glanced over at Ralph, who shrugged. “All right. But you probably won’t want to talk to us after you hear what we have to say. And if you don’t, that’s fine—we understand. We’ll leave.”

  That seemed to intrigue him, because the look of suspicion turned to one of curiosity. “Go on, then.”

  Ralph cleared his throat. “We’re with the Fly by Night Magical Investigations Agency. It’s true that we are investigating a haunting at the house you lived in when you were young. We were wondering if you had any idea of who the spirit might be? Was the house haunted when you lived in it? Or can you think of anything that went on there that might have been the source of a disruption?”

  “Well, that’s different. How much do you know the history? And who owns the house now? The Striker family, still?” Toby gave us a smoldering look.

  “No, actually, they sold the house to our client some years back after Nathan Striker died there, but he just now got around to renovating it and ever since he began renovations, odd things started to happen.” I did my best to avoid mentioning that Patrick was Nathan’s friend. If we could keep that under wraps, we might actually come out of this with some sort of information.

  Toby held my gaze for a long moment. Then he slowly relaxed. “My father died destitute, you know. Striker broke our family. We never quite pulled together again after that. Ma tried, but she was sick with diabetes and it killed her. My father watched her go, and he couldn’t do a damned thing. I was the only chil
d on our side of the family.”

  He leaned forward, his eyes bright. “But my father, he got even. Or rather, my grandmother did. When she found out what Striker did to my father, she went to Anna Lee, and she asked Anna Lee to put a curse on the house.”

  I stiffened. The magical chanting . . . Could it be related to whoever Anna Lee was, and her curse? “Who is . . . was . . . Anna Lee?”

  “She was my aunt. She was a fortune-teller and witch. We’re Gypsies, you know—and proud of our line. She was one of the Bucklands who lived the lifestyle. My father, he was ashamed of his heritage. He just wanted to fit in. Grandma was disappointed in him, but she never said anything.”

  “And so he went into business and bought the house . . .”

  “He thought he could give us a normal life. But we’re not born for it—not really. I don’t even try. I work, but once I save up enough money, I’m hitting the road and traveling the country. I know there’s a group of Bucklands still making the rounds in upstate New York. I might see if they’ll let me join them.”

  And so there it was. There was a curse on the house.

  “And Anna Lee, she was your aunt, you say? She’s dead?” Ralph was taking notes, and he seemed to have the wits about him to be properly respectful.

  “Yeah, she died a few years back. She never married, but she had a string of lovers a mile long. She could dance, and sing . . . when she was younger, she lived in a caravan. But after she developed arthritis, she decided to settle into a small apartment. She told fortunes and cast spells for her living.”

  I didn’t know a lot about humans and magic, but I knew that some of them could be pretty damned powerful when it came to spellcasting. There was quite a history of witchery throughout human culture, long before the neopagans found it. While some of them had tried to tame down the magical aspects of it, there were a number who still understood the strength and power of the forces they worked with.

  Stretching, Toby yawned and glanced at the clock. “My break’s over. I have to get back to work or the boss will be on my back.” As he stood up, he let out a snort. “About your ghost . . . I don’t remember much. I think there might have been something there, but nobody ever bothered me. Have you considered the idea that it might be Striker? He lived and—you say—died in that house. The curse might have kept him there.” And with that, he opened the door, indicating our talk was over.

  As Ralph and I left, Chai was waiting outside for us. He followed us back to the car and I realized he meant to hang around. Wonderful. How was I going to explain this one to Alex? And if he objected, well, I had no influence over what the djinn did.

  “So Anna Lee Buckland put a curse on the house. We don’t know what kind, but at least we can surmise what the chanting is connected with. So we need to figure out what kind of curse it is, and then we might be able to figure out if the spirit haunting the place is Nathan.” Ralph glanced nervously at Chai. “He coming with us?”

  “Apparently so. Just be polite and everything will be fine,” I said with more confidence than I felt. Chai would never mess with me, but I couldn’t vouch that he’d behave himself around Ralph and Alex. “Oh, and don’t ask Chai for any favors. Trust me. The question is, why would Nathan haunt Patrick in such a nasty way? They were friends—”

  “Were is the operative word, isn’t it?” Ralph turned to me as I was fastening my seat belt. “Remember, Patrick said that he and Nathan had a falling-out. Nathan wanted Patrick to turn him so he wouldn’t die. Patrick said no. Nathan’s family was grateful Patrick didn’t, but Nathan wasn’t. Maybe he’s trying to get back at Patrick for refusing him?”

  “That would make sense. And if the curse exacerbates the energy, maybe Nathan’s spirit has turned into some sort of a monster?” I glanced into the backseat. “Fasten your seat belt, Chai. The law requires it and we’re not getting any tickets because of you.”

  “You want me to take care of this ghost you have a problem with?” Chai’s voice rumbled from the backseat.

  “Yes! Can you?” Ralph sounded all too excited.

  “What did I just say about asking him favors?” I glanced back at Chai. “No, thank you. Absolutely, emphatically, do not do us any favors or grant any wishes. You do, and I send you packing.” I glanced over at Ralph, worrying my lip. I could speak in front of Chai without worry, but there was a point where bluntness turned into being rude. But I had to make Ralph understand. “Never ask a djinn for a favor, or accept one from him. Do you know anything about djinn wishes?”

  Ralph shook his head. “Can’t say that I do. Just thought, if he could help us, it might be worth a shot.”

  “Djinns are bound by their natures to twist your wishes in any way possible. Even when they aren’t chained to a person’s will.” I shot a glance at Chai in the backseat. He’d managed to avoid getting enslaved so far, and I hoped that never changed. The thought of him being subservient to somebody turned my stomach.

  Chai cheerfully chimed in. “Shimmer is correct. I’m bound to make the offer, and then I’m bound to screw things up for you if I can. Nothing personal, you understand.”

  “What, is it in your union handbook?” Ralph snorted, but Chai laughed right along with him.

  “Actually, yes. Well, the equivalent.” He was able to sit in the backseat without too much problem, but his head still brushed the roof of the car. “These vehicles need to be bigger.”

  “Don’t even go there. This monster is big enough as it is.” Ralph put the car into gear and we swung out on the street. “Okay, it’s almost eleven. We grab a quick snack and then I seriously need some sleep. Even with catching an hour of shut-eye this morning, it’s been a long time since six o’clock last night.”

  I was starting to feel the strain as well. “Right. I’m not hungry, so if you just want to go back to the house we can. When we wake up tonight, we should get right to searching through Gypsy curses to see if we can figure out what Anna Lee did to the house. Maybe Tonya will have some clue as to what we’re up against.” I yawned and stretched, realizing that the thought of bed sounded really good. “Chai, I want you to stay awake while we sleep. There’s a nasty spirit in the house and we’re a little leery of what it might do while we’re in bed.”

  “Won’t that backfire?” Ralph darted a quick look my way, his voice decidedly nervous.

  “Nope. I didn’t ask him a favor. I told him what to do. He doesn’t have to obey me, but if he decides to oblige, that’s a totally different matter.”

  Chai muttered something under his breath.

  “What?” Ralph glanced in the rearview mirror. “You say something?”

  “Damned right,” Chai grumbled. “Nasty buggers, ghosts. Can’t stand them. I’ll keep watch. No worries.”

  We drove back to the house and, once we made sure we’d written down everything we needed to remember, Ralph and I decided that staying in the same room might be the safest route. Ralph was shy, slipping out of his jeans, but he was wearing boxers that looked like swimming trunks. I’d brought a pair of PJs as well as a sleep shirt, figuring it might be drafty in the old house. So I changed in the bathroom and we settled into the bed, turned away from each other. Chai stretched out in the recliner near the bed with a book. I couldn’t read the language it was in, but he seemed absorbed by it.

  After a round of good-nights, Ralph and I fell asleep, the alarm set for six thirty. If anything happened while we slept, Chai kept it from bothering us.

  • • •

  Ralph went back to his own room to shower and dress. Chai was still where he’d been when we drifted off to sleep, and I gave him a quick hug before hitting the bathroom.

  “You smell a bit ripe, girl. Go shower.”

  “I love you, too, dude.”

  He held my wrist for a moment, staring into my eyes. “Something else is going on besides spooks and spirits. Going to tell me what it is?”

  I never had been able to hide anything from him, but right now I didn’t feel like talking about Ale
x. It was too new, and I wasn’t sure what it would turn out to be, and I wanted to just focus on the case at hand at this moment.

  “In a bit, once I figure it out myself.” I grabbed a towel and my travel kit and headed into the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later, I was clean from head to toe and smelled like cucumber-melon. I brushed my wet hair back into a ponytail, where it would dry, and then quickly dabbed on some eye shadow, liner, and mascara. I liked makeup, but it hadn’t fully become routine with me yet. I added a thin slick of pale bronze lip gloss and then returned to the room, where I dressed. Chai had seen me naked before, and if he had any interest, he’d politely kept it to himself.

  I fastened my bra and put on a fresh pair of panties, then slid into a clean pair of jeans and tucked in my pale blue V-neck sweater. I added a black belt with a silver buckle, feeding it through the loops. After I slipped on a pair of sneakers, and tied them, I turned around to find Chai staring at me.

  “You are comfortable here.” He held up his book and it vanished from sight.

  “In this house? Hell, no.”

  “I don’t mean in this house—it’s a malignant cancer right now. But in your human skin. You are more comfortable in this world than you think you are. I’ve known you for a long time, Shimmer, and I’ve never seen you so easy with yourself. I think coming Earthside has been a positive thing for you.” He stood, and—just like that—his clothes shifted. Now, he wore a dark green polo shirt and a pair of black leather pants. His hair remained in the high ponytail, though, but he’d changed the earring from gold to silver.

  I smiled, ducking my head. “You know, I thought maybe it was my imagination. I don’t really want to be comfortable here—there seems something almost shameful about it, like I can’t fit into my own society. But . . . truth time? I do feel at ease over here in a way I never felt at home.”