Medium Rare: (Intermix)

by Meg Benjamin

  “And we do this how? I’m a writer, not a wizard.”

  “Actually, you are. A wizard, that is.” Skag inspected his nails. “Your name, Delwin, is almost certainly a derivative of the Welsh word dewin, meaning wizard or shaman. Your ancestry undoubtedly aided your father in his line of work. My guess is your family has its own share of interesting skeletons in well-guarded closets.”

  Evan stared at him. “Bullshit.”

  Skag folded his arms. “Normally, I’d reason this out for you, but we haven’t that much time, so here’s the gist. Item one, you saw Rose’s spirit animals. No one else did. Item two, you’re unreasonably infuriated by ersatz mediums, presumably because of your family’s long association with true ones. Item three, you have an uncanny ability to see through chicanery and fraud, a quite valuable trait for a shaman.”

  Evan blew out a breath. Onward. “Okay, leave that for now. Why did this happen to Rose’s mother?”

  Skag blew out a cloud of ghostly smoke. Evan wasn’t sure, but he thought the ghost had faded slightly. “It wasn’t supposed to be Deirdre. It was supposed to be Rose. The two look somewhat alike, particularly in unclear weather.”

  Evan’s chest tightened. “Rose? What the hell! Why would Bradford want to hurt her? He doesn’t even know her.”

  Skag blew out an irritated breath. “Oh wise up, Delwin. I’ve already told you—Bradford is long gone. His spirit, essence, what have you, was undoubtedly consumed months ago. Your enemy, the one you have to find and stop, is the spirit behind the current illusion of William Bradford. The soul eater. The demon. You’re making the mistake of looking at the puppet rather than the puppet master.” He was definitely more transparent now.

  “What’s happening? You’re disappearing.”

  “How astute of you to notice.” Skag showed his teeth in an expression that was nothing like a smile. “The demon has found the channel I used to contact you. It’s blocking me. I’ll be gone in a moment.”

  “How do we do it, Skag? How do we stop the puppet master?”

  “Watch out for Rose, Delwin,” his voice was faint now. “And remember, don’t look back. Never look back!”

  Evan tried to move toward the spot where Skag had been standing in the inky blackness of the dungeon, but his feet felt like he was wearing concrete boots. He thrashed again and found himself sitting upright in Rose’s bed, her hand resting on his arm.

  “What was it?” she said urgently. “You said something about Skag. Did you see him? Did he tell you what’s going on?”

  He closed his eyes, trying to slow his breathing.

  “Evan?” Her eyes were wide. “What did he say?”

  He leaned forward, resting his forehead on her shoulder. “A lot. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. We should go back to sleep now. I think we’re both going to need it.”

  He slipped back down beside her, closing his eyes again. They both probably needed a couple more hours. But he had a feeling there was no way in hell they were going to get it.

  ***

  Rose stared down into her coffee cup, hoping the answers might swim to the surface. Fat chance. “So we’re up against a very powerful spirit that apparently wants to kill both of us, but Skag didn’t tell you how to stop it. And Ma’s lost somewhere in limbo and we have to save her. And Bradford’s involved, but Bradford’s not Bradford.”

  Evan nodded. “We sort of knew that much already, thanks to Alana. I guess that’s what she meant when she said Willie wasn’t Willie anymore.”

  “But what does that mean exactly? If William Bradford’s been possessed, wouldn’t somebody have noticed?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Suppose he hired new assistants when he moved down here. They might not have known what he was like before.”

  A new line of tension formed across her shoulders. “So it’s something supernatural? Changing its appearance to look like Bradford? But the Bradford we saw at the theatre was real. I mean, we’ve both seen Skag—we know the difference.”

  “Maybe it’s Bradford, the real, human Bradford, but changed,” he said slowly. “Maybe what’s inside him isn’t Bradford anymore. Skag called it a soul eater. He said your brother had already seen one.”

  She closed her eyes. Oh, crap. Danny. The carriage house. “Soul eaters are evil spirits. They increase their power by consuming human souls. And sometimes bodies, too.”

  “And your brother?”

  “Had a nasty encounter with one. He ended up trapped in a burning building, but he made it out alive.” Barely.

  Evan sighed. “I’d say I don’t believe I’m having this conversation, but I’m way beyond that.”

  “And it was a soul eater that attacked my mother, thinking it was me?”

  He nodded. “That’s what Skag said. It’s acting as a calling ghost.”

  She licked her lips. “She’s soul-lost.”

  He nodded again.

  Rose pushed herself to her feet. “I need to call the hospital. And then I need to go down there, maybe spend the day. The appointment with Bradford isn’t until seven thirty anyway.”

  “Rose.” Evan stepped beside her.

  “No, really, I can do both. I’ll go down and find my dad, talk to my brothers. Talk to Danny in particular. Maybe the doctors . . .”

  “Rose.” His voice was slightly louder. He put a hand on her arm.

  “I can . . .” She turned toward him, her breath catching in her throat. Her lips began to tremble. “I’ve got to do something, Evan. I’ve got to!”

  He put his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close. “I know. I know you want to. But we need more information before we go to Bradford’s tonight. If we’re going to fight this thing, we have to know what we’re up against.”

  She leaned against his body, struggling against the helplessness that washed across her. “How do we find any information? They’ve blocked Skag. I don’t know how else to find anything out—it’s not like we can go on Google to see when Bradford was replaced.”

  “Use what you know. You’re a medium. Let’s see who’s out there who might talk to us.”

  Rose glanced at the kitchen window where morning sunlight poured onto the floor. “It’s daytime.”

  “So? You think the spirits are only available after five? Based on what?”

  She blew out a breath. “Okay, you’re right. Skag shows up whenever he wants to. Let’s try it. Maybe Alana’s found something out. Maybe somebody else will be willing to talk to us.”

  Evan carried chairs while she pulled the table back into the middle of the living room again. The candle was still on the bookcase where she’d left it.

  “I wonder if we should close the shutters?” she mused. “Maybe we could make it a little darker in here.”

  “You think that’s necessary?”

  “Maybe not to hear, but it might help to see. I mean, Alana was a little dim even in a room that was fully dark.”

  In more ways than one. But neither of them said it. Maybe Alana was hanging around.

  Rose took her seat opposite Evan, placing her hands in his. She wished she hadn’t had that second cup of coffee all of a sudden. It might make trances a little difficult.

  “Just relax,” he murmured. “See what happens.”

  She closed her eyes, trying to block the image of her mother in the hospital bed, her soul wandering who knew where. And Rose was supposed to do something about it. Only, of course, she had no idea what.

  The same familiar tingling slipped up her spine. She caught her breath. “Is anyone there?”

  “Me,” Alana said. Her voice sounded slightly muffled and Rose wondered if she had the cloak on again.

  “I can’t see you.”

  “I know. I’m just here for a moment. I had a message for you.”

  “From Skag?”

  “No. From someone else.
A woman. I don’t know her name. She said . . .”

  “I said I would take care of this myself.” The voice that cut in was considerably louder than Alana’s. “You can go along now.”

  “But . . . I’m supposed to be her spirit guide.” Alana sounded nervous.

  “Pshaw!” the other woman snapped. “Not now. Possibly not ever. We’ll see about that when this is over. Now run along. I have things to discuss.”

  Rose peered through the shadows, trying to see where the voices were coming from. “Can you hear them?”

  Evan nodded. “Faintly. It’s not as clear as it was last night, but I can sort of hear.”

  A single ball of light shone in the corner, dim but visible. It didn’t resolve itself into human form.

  “Hello?”

  The ball of light moved marginally closer. “Sorry. This is the best shape I’ve been able to create. Your opponent is trying very hard to block any access to this house.” The voice seemed to issue roughly from the ball’s center.

  Rose clasped Evan’s hands more tightly. “Who is it? The same thing that hurt my mother?”

  “We’ll get to that. I have a great deal to tell you and not much time in which to do it. It may well find a way to block me very soon.”

  “Who are you? Did Skag send you?”

  “Indirectly.” The woman’s voice sounded dry. “I’m one of his ‘colleagues,’ you might say.”

  “Why couldn’t Skag come himself?”

  “This house has been cocooned. It’s wrapped in a number of spells. Skag has been blocked from his usual channels. Fortunately, keeping Skag away took so much of his power that he isn’t able to keep everyone else out. That’s how you managed to reach that rather pathetic creature last night.”

  “Who is he?” Rose squinted at the light, trying to determine whether she really could see a woman’s form in the middle.

  “Skag already told you that.” The woman’s voice sounded impatient. “It’s a demonic spirit—the name is unimportant. He’s a long-standing enemy of this family. One of the Old Ones.” The light flickered slightly, and Rose felt like telling the spirit to ease up a little.

  “The Old Ones?”

  A sigh seemed to slide through the room. “They’re the oldest ghosts, the ones from thousands upon thousands of years ago. The spirits who elected to stay on earth rather than transitioning to the Other Side. After a while, they can lose whatever humanity they had and become, well, demonic. Or they can retain some form of their original character, like Skag.”

  “Skag isn’t a demon.” Rose’s shoulders tightened. Did she know that for a fact?

  “Not exactly. He’s just . . . very old. Much older than he seems. But he’s stayed human, more or less. And he’s looked after the family he left behind.”

  Rose breathed. “The one who hurt my mother is a demon?”

  The woman sighed again. “You can call him a demon if that makes more sense to you than calling him a ghost. He’s quite similar to the one your brother encountered.”

  “But . . .” Rose blinked. She suddenly felt as if her head were spinning. “If this is some kind of demon plot, how do we know you’re here to help us? What if you’re a demon, too? What if all of this is some kind of mind trick? How do I know you’re on my side?”

  “Oh, good!” The flicker of light this time looked more like lightning. “We’re going to play philosophical twenty questions during your mother’s last few hours. What a nice idea.”

  Rose’s heart thumped hard again. “My mother’s last few hours? She’s dying?”

  “She will be.” The woman sounded grim. “You’ll have to help her. It’s the only chance she has. You’ll have to stop him. You’re the only one who can do what needs to be done.”

  “And what is that—what are we supposed to do?” Rose let some of her own frustration spill over.

  “Go to Bradford’s house tonight. Find him. Destroy the forms he assumes and you’ll destroy him. Each time you destroy one he loses power.”

  “Does he have my mother’s . . . soul in that house?” Rose had to force the words out.

  “Your mother’s soul is imprisoned. The demon’s destruction will set it free. Let the spirit animals guide you. That’s what they’re supposed to do. We’ll try to get into the house ourselves—we can provide some help, although it may be quite limited.” The light flickered again. For a moment, Rose thought it had faded slightly.

  “Who’s helping? Who is we?”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake, child, does it matter?” The voice sounded exasperated. “Myself. Skag. Any other interested spirits we can drum up—perhaps that medium you talked to would be willing to take a chance herself.”

  “Why is all this happening?” She took a deep breath. “Is it my fault? Did I do something wrong with Skag?”

  “This has very little to do with you. The demon wants to be back in the world with humans so that he can collect more souls to increase his power. Right now he can only be here for short periods. But he’s gaining strength. Soon he’ll be able to return whenever he wants. He’s trying to eliminate anyone or anything that might stand in his way. That’s you and your consort, as well as those who might help you, like Skag and those two miserable excuses for mediums. Now I’ve got to get back to the other realm, before I get stuck here permanently. The demon is lurking somewhere nearby—I can feel him.”

  The light was definitely dimmer now. The woman was apparently leaving.

  “But how?” Rose called desperately. “How are we supposed to destroy a demon?”

  “I told you—destroy the material forms it assumes.” The woman’s voice was fainter now. “You can do it. It’s in your blood. It’s what we do. Save Deirdre. You’ll know how when the time comes.”

  Her hands trembled against Evan’s. Something about the way the voice sounded . . . “Grandma Caroline,” she whispered. “Is that you?”

  “And Rose, remember—don’t look back. Never look back.” The light disappeared with an almost audible pop.

  Rose closed her eyes, feeling her heart pound. She knew her hands were trembling, but she couldn’t seem to stop. “Gee,” she murmured, “that went well.”

  Chapter 26

  Rose spent the rest of the day at the hospital, sitting in her mother’s room when her father took one of his rare breaks, talking to her brothers and trying to answer their questions without really answering them. She tried her best not to think about William Bradford and her private consultation with him at seven thirty that evening. Of course, she couldn’t not think about Bradford. And his puppet master.

  She wondered exactly what she could say to him when they had their consultation. Why are you trying to kill me? Why did you hurt my mother? What do I have to do to get her soul back? But of course she already knew the answer to that last one, courtesy of her grandmother—destroy the demon’s material form, which in this case was one William Bradford.

  She wondered how the police would react to her explanation. I killed him because he was possessed by a demon. Besides, he wasn’t really William Bradford anymore. That one would probably go over really well. At least it might earn her an insanity defense.

  She and Evan ate supper in silence. She knew Bradford’s minions would never let him near the master, but she wanted him there all the same. Which was just as well since he seemed determined to go. They’d just have to wait until they got to the mansion to decide what to do. Maybe Evan could find another way in after the assistants inevitably turned him away.

  As they drove up I-10 toward the hills, she cleared her throat. “What should I ask him? Should I be straight and let him know we know what he is, or should I pretend to believe him?”

  “There’s no point in pretending. If this demon is as powerful as everybody keeps saying he is, he’ll know the truth already. Play it by ear. See what he has to say for himself.”


  Behind them, Helen moved restlessly, while Lenore muttered something that was probably snide. They’d both been waiting in the car when she and Evan had come out of the house. Clearly, since Grandma had said to follow the animals, they’d need them.

  Evan pulled off the highway at a well-lighted exit, then headed up one of the winding boulevards that led back into the hills. Apparently, William Bradford had built himself a house in one of the swankier developments. Rose peered out the window at trailing live oak and pecans, original greenery interspersed with skillful landscaping. All the houses in this particular development were set well back from the road, lights faintly visible beyond forbidding stone walls and electronic gates.

  “You have an address?”

  She glanced at the slip of paper in her hand again. “One thirty Silver Oak.”

  “That must be it up ahead.”

  Unlike the others, Bradford’s place had no yard lights showing. The lawn spread, dark and rolling, up from the drive to the distant house, half-concealed in a grove of live oaks.

  She rubbed her hands up her suddenly cool arms. “Why is this place so dark?”

  “Got me. I don’t like it much, though.”

  The house loomed before them, dark windows like pools of night. Not even a porch light was glowing.

  “I know this is going to sound stupid,” Evan said quietly, “but are you sure this is the right night?”

  She blew out a breath. “I’m sure.”

  “Looks like your consultation has been cancelled.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Look.” She pointed at the front door, which stood open, another patch of darkness against the gray walls. “Do you think that’s supposed to be an invitation?”

  He shook his head. “More like a dare.”

  “Do we take it?”

  “Do we have a choice? We have to stop him. It might as well be here.”

  He reached into the glove compartment, rummaging around until he found a flashlight. After a moment of digging into a far corner, he pulled out a jackknife. “This may not be much use, but it’s all we’ve got.”