by Meg Benjamin
“Bingo,” Evan muttered.
He stepped back to get a better view, not that there was much to see. The storefront looked like the others on the block—midsize building, large window in front, blank wall at the side. But in this case, thick curtains cloaked the window and the glass door.
Curtains. Right. Keep it dark so the suckers wouldn’t see too much.
He put his hands in his pockets and strolled back toward the parking lot where he’d left his SUV. The only question now was how to get past Augie Garcia so he could visit a séance himself. With any luck, the mediums might be more talkative than Augie had been.
***
Rose stood in the entry hall studying the front door while Skag bobbed in the living room doorway. “I still don’t know what we’re looking for, Skag. Last night we kept them out with the shutters, and Helen and Lenore both come in the front door.”
“As I said, Helen is in a different category from those dogs that chased you down the road. She could get in, but they couldn’t. And you notice that in both cases, the entity, whatever it is, has tried to force its way into the house. In a normal house, a house that was unprotected, it would simply enter by the front door and do whatever it wanted.” He moved closer to the doorway. “Look at the door. Do you see anything unusual about it?”
She narrowed her eyes, running her hands down the slightly scarred wooden surface. So far as she could tell, nothing was out of the ordinary. “Did this door come with the house, when Great-grandma Siobhan built it?”
He shook his head. “Caroline bought it, although it was an antique when she did. It’s probably the same vintage as the house but not original.”
She gave the surface another rub, then stood back, shaking her head. “Just a door, so far as I can see. You’re sure it’s the doorway that’s warded?”
“I’m sure of nothing, but it seems logical.”
She looked out at the afternoon shadows gathering on the front walk, trying to decide if they were any darker than usual. After a moment she heard a rustle of wings and Lenore landed on her shoulder. Rose staggered slightly under the bird’s weight. “I trust you not to disgrace yourself,” she muttered. “You’re here on sufferance.”
“Moron,” Lenore remarked.
Something reflected a quick flash of light as a ray of sunlight caught the doorjamb. She turned, running her fingers along the side. A double row of inset stones glinted dully in the afternoon sun. “There’s something embedded in the wood here. Some kind of glass.”
“Glass? What color?”
“I can’t really tell in this light. Dark. Maybe black.”
“Black glass?” His voice sounded tight.
She nodded. “Come look.”
Skag floated beside her, peering over her shoulder. “It’s not glass,” he murmured after a moment. “Obsidian.”
Rose frowned. “Obsidian? Gemstones? Why would Great-grandma Siobhan waste money on putting jewels in the doorjamb?”
“Because she wanted her house to be safe.” He floated back to the living room doorway. “Obsidian is a charm. It protects against spirits.”
“Then why doesn’t it affect you?”
“Perhaps because I arrived with Siobhan. I’ve been in the house since it was built. Obsidian is fairly powerful, as is chalcedony, but it can’t work alone. There must be other charms associated with the doorway. Keep looking.”
She sighed, turning back to the doorway again. “Who put this in here—Great-grandma Siobhan or Grandma Caroline?”
“Both. They no doubt worked in concert. And I’d wager Caroline added her own wards to those Siobhan installed, strengthening the house’s power.”
Rose moved her hands over the door again, then peered at the door handle. “I always thought this was steel, but it’s not, is it?”
Skag bobbed above the door, staring at the handle. “Iron. More durable than silver and just as effective.”
She looked back at the doorjamb. Weather stripping lined the top and bottom. She pushed it aside slightly, holding it up with her index finger. “Does it seem to you that they used more nails than necessary to hold this in place?”
He peered over her shoulder. “Iron again. Oh, clever Caroline. Clever Siobhan. Iron and obsidian in the door, and a chalcedony pendant for personal protection. The only thing missing is salt, and that we can supply ourselves.”
“Skag, I am not scattering salt around on the floor,” she snapped. “It’ll just get kicked into the living room where it won’t do much good.”
He shrugged. “Put it underneath the weather stripping at the bottom. That should hold it in place effectively.”
Rose closed the door. “I suppose the back is the same way. We actually put the shutters in place with some of Grandma Caroline’s iron nails, although I didn’t know that’s what they were at the time. The real question is—why did they do all of this? What did they want to keep out?”
Skag suddenly seemed to be studying the doorway with extra care. She got the distinct impression he was avoiding her gaze.
She moved in front of him. “Skag, what’s going on? What are you not telling me this time?”
He bobbed a little closer to the ceiling. “The Riordans have enemies, Rose. Ones they’ve collected over the centuries. You can’t deal with the supernatural without stepping on toes. Metaphorical ones, of course.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Any toes in particular I should be aware of?”
For a moment he seemed to flicker in the shadows of the hall. “There are always demonic spirits around. Your brother discovered that the hard way. And demonic spirits hold grudges. They tend to resent humans who get in their way while they’re amassing power. They’ve also been known to eliminate their enemies or those who have proven to be enemies to others of their kind. The Riordans have a history of battling demonic spirits. It’s possible this is some kind of payback for things done in the past.”
Rose’s shoulders tightened. “Is this the family ‘destiny’ thing you told me about?”
Skag sighed. “More or less. All families have specialties. Your family is better than most at combating the Old Ones, the spirits that have turned demonic.”
“You think a demonic spirit sent the hellhounds and the ravens?”
“Possibly.”
“Does that mean we’re up against something very powerful?”
Skag sighed. “Probably. A ghost that’s become demonic can amass a great deal of power if it’s been around long enough. Particularly if it’s been absorbing human souls.”
Rose shivered. “What can we do to protect ourselves?”
“At the moment, not much beyond warding the house against them. Let me investigate further. I’ll see if I can pinpoint the particular spirit in question and find out more about its nature.”
Rose walked through her living room, which now resembled a well-furnished tomb, at least in terms of light. “Any chance I could take off the shutters for a while?”
“Only if you’re ready to put them back up again as soon as the sun goes down.” He floated into his usual chair. “Anyway, I don’t know why you’d want to remove them. They give the room a certain cachet.”
“Right. Sort of early Addams Family.” She pulled the salt box out of the pantry, then went to the back door. A quick check showed more obsidian and more nails.
Busy ladies, her grannies. The enemies, whoever they were, must have been formidable.
Rose pushed the weather stripping aside and poured salt across the threshold in a thin line. Behind her, Helen made a grumbling sound.
“Don’t give me that. If you can appear magically on my front porch when some kind of supreme big-bad is trying to turn me into hamburger, a pile of salt shouldn’t bother you that much.”
She closed the door and headed back toward the front, passing Skag as she moved through the livin
g room.
“Have you checked Locators’ e-mail lately?” he asked. “We could use a new job or two. Delwin’s taking more of your time than I anticipated.”
Rose poured more salt into the front doorjamb, then closed the door and headed for the study. “Realistically, I doubt that Evan Delwin is going to seriously affect the business, but you’re right. We should be working.”
She typed in her screen-saver password, then navigated to her mailbox at Locators. Autumn Patrick’s name was at the top of the list of incoming mail. “Good for you, Autumn,” she murmured.
“Something?” Skag raised an eyebrow as she entered the living room again.
“Something.” She held up the printout of Autumn’s message.
He skimmed the pages, then sighed. “Straightforward. Routine. In other words, dull. I was rather hoping for something more challenging.”
“We’ll take what we can get. Besides, we’ve got an extra interest here. Autumn and her sister were at the last séance with Alana DuBois.”
His brow wrinkled slightly. “Really. She suddenly takes on a great deal more interest.”
“I thought you might see it that way. Can you locate her late husband?”
He shrugged. “Probably. I doubt he’ll be in my favorite haunts, so to speak, but he’s recently departed, so he should still be hanging around. I’ll try to track him down by tomorrow.”
“Good. When you find him, ask him where he put the baseball. And if he put it in a safety deposit box, ask him how Autumn is supposed to get into it—get the location of the key and any passwords involved if you can.”
“I think I know the business by now, Rose.” Skag’s voice was dry.
She ignored him. “I’ll e-mail Autumn with the usual deal—flat rate, results guaranteed, yadda, yadda. Except . . .” She bit her lip. “I’ve got to figure out how to get the results to her without letting her know I’m involved.”
“I fail to see why your involvement would be a problem.”
“Evan Delwin told her about Locators yesterday while we were interviewing Autumn and her sister. She thinks I’m his assistant. If she finds out I’m head of the company, she’ll think it’s a scam.”
Skag’s boredom disappeared. “Delwin knows about our enterprise?”
She shook her head. “Not about you. At least, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know about you. He knows it’s my company. He recognized the phone number.”
“How very interesting. Delwin continues to surprise me. It must have something to do with his genetic heritage.”
“Genetic heritage?” She raised an eyebrow. “He’s descended from a long line of investigative reporters?”
Skag shook his head. “He’s descended from the Great Dell, one of the better magicians of the last fifty years. In fact, Delwin’s father gave every indication of developing into one of the greatest of the century. Too bad his career was cut short.”
Rose shivered. She wasn’t sure she really wanted to ask. “What happened to him?”
“He was killed in an onstage accident. Performing one of the most dangerous tricks in his repertoire. Apparently, Dell’s timing was off, or his assistant’s was. At any rate, he was killed in front of a crowd of several thousand in one of the larger Las Vegas casinos.”
Rose winced. “That’s horrible.”
He shrugged. “That’s show business. However, it may have given our Mr. Delwin his surprising distaste for the magical.”
“Mr. Delwin is nothing if not surprising.”
He ground out his cigarette. “So I’ve noticed. As it happens, however, I despise surprises.”
The doorbell sounded deep within the house. Skag narrowed his eyes. “That should be Mr. Surprising now. Maybe I’ll go off and search for Clint Patrick.”
“Evan?” She shook her head. “It can’t be Evan. He wouldn’t come back so soon. You saw his expression last night.”
Skag gave her a flat look. “Yes. I also saw the way he looked at you earlier in the evening. Believe me, Rose, he’s back.”
Her cheeks turned warm. “Oh, go find a spirit or two.”
He chuckled as he began to fade. “I live to serve. Figuratively speaking, of course. Keep your eyes open, Rose, Delwin is proving to be very tricky.”
She watched him fade into nothingness, then headed toward the insistent sound of the doorbell. “Maybe Delwin isn’t the only tricky one around here.”
Chapter 14
Rose opened the door to find Evan on her doorstep. “You came back.”
The corners of his mouth edged up. “Wasn’t I supposed to?”
“Sure. I mean, of course. It’s just, well, after last night, I didn’t know if you . . . ,” her voice trailed off. Babbling, Rose. Stop babbling.
He narrowed his eyes. “You mean you didn’t know if I’d be willing to come back to a house that was like something out of Hitchcock? Don’t worry about it. It’ll take more than an attack by crazed ravens to scare me off. We Delwins come from hardy stock.”
She heard a whir of wings behind her. Lenore had arrived.
His eyes widened in disbelief. “There’s a raven on your banister.”
She sighed. Of course he can see her. “That’s one of the things I like about you, Evan. Your swift grasp of the essentials.”
He shook his head, as if he were trying to clear it. “What the hell, Rose? Is this one from last night? You rescued one?”
She nodded again. “She’s adopted me. Out of gratitude, I assume. Her name’s Lenore.”
Evan still looked slightly poleaxed. “It adopted you? I don’t even know what that means. Is it a pet? Where did it come from? How did it get here?”
Rose pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know exactly, to tell you the truth. It just sort of showed up last night. And stayed.”
He shook his head slowly. “So now you’ve been adopted by a bird and a dog?”
“Yep. Probably an indication of my winning personality. At least as far as animals are concerned.” She turned back to the banister where a bright-eyed Lenore perched. “Lenore, this is Evan.”
“Moron,” Lenore chirped.
His eyes narrowed.
“Limited vocabulary, but it sometimes comes in handy.”
Evan’s expression turned thunderous. “Rose . . .”
She shook her head. “Evan, I don’t know. She’s here, and she seems to be staying. Just go with it, okay?”
He paused for a moment longer, then shrugged. But he didn’t look happy.
Rose headed back into the darkened living room. “As long as you’re here, could you help me open these shutters? I haven’t had a chance to see which windows need replacing yet.”
He helped her push the heavy shutters to the side. She grimaced, studying the amount of cracked glass underneath. She’d need a lot more Autumn Patricks to pay for all the repairs.
“Do you want to take these down now?” He glanced at the dusty shutters that blocked a significant amount of light.
She thought of the room as it used to be—cheery curtains, sunlight, the sound of birdsongs in the late afternoon.
The sound of bird bodies hitting the shutters at midnight.
“Not yet.” She turned toward the kitchen. “You want some coffee?”
“Why not? I feel like I might still be dreaming.”
She pulled a couple of mugs off the shelf as Helen padded into the kitchen behind them. She settled at Evan’s feet, leaning against his leg. Lenore arrived with a rustle of feathers and perched on the chair next to him, regarding him thoughtfully.
“What’s with these animals?” He raised an eyebrow as she passed him a mug of coffee. “Are they like guard dogs? Do they think I’m going to lift the silver?”
She shrugged. “They don’t look like they have any doubts about you. I’d guess they’re bonding.”
He regarded Lenore with narrow eyes. “Terrific. Is she housebroken?”
“No idea. She’s a new arrival, remember?”
Lenore cocked her head to the side, then began preening her feathers, supremely unimpressed.
“Did you have a reason for coming around today? Or did you just want to make sure I was still alive?”
His lips spread in a lazy grin. “Well, yeah, there’s that. I’d miss you if you weren’t around, Rosie.”
She decided to ignore that slight fluttering in her chest and press on. “Okay, nice to know. But today you’re here because . . .”
“Because I’ve got a couple of leads I want to pursue, and I need your help.”
She told herself she was definitely not disappointed. “What’s up?”
“I found out where Augie Garcia holds his séances. I want to get into the one this weekend.”
She shook her head. “He’d never let you. Not even if I asked him. Not after the last time you were there. He’d figure you were going to turn him in for code violations or something.”
“I don’t need Garcia’s permission—I just need to get in. After I’ve seen one, maybe I can make a guess about what happened to Alana DuBois. At least I’ll have an idea about what she did when she was being a medium.”
She set down her cup with a clink. “Oh, you are so not going without me. If you go, I go.”
One corner of Evan’s mouth inched up again. “To tell you the truth, I hadn’t been planning on going to this thing alone.”
She blew out a breath. “Oh.”
Rose leaned back in her chair, glancing out the kitchen window at the evening shadows. Another cloudless sky, which of course meant nothing. Every day had started cloudless before the fog came rolling in at night. She shivered. Maybe she should stay home and let Evan handle things, particularly after dark.
Stay home and let the skeptic check the séance for clues? Oh, yeah, great idea, Rose.
“Is it tonight?”
He shook his head. “They hold them on the weekends. Probably tomorrow or Saturday. I figure two of us might get in easier than I would alone—less suspicious that way. Makes it look like we’re on a date.”
