Fugue Macabre: Ghost Dance (Fugue Macabre Trilogy Book 1)

by C. J. Parker

  “You’re a healer, too, ain’t ya kid?” Phelps ran the cold gun barrel down her neck. “I saw how you took your mother’s pain away in the ambulance. You can make me better. I’m sick, baby.”

  Tabatha looked upon him as a dog lying on the side of the street. He may be a mutt she didn’t like to see anything suffer. “I can’t help you. You have to go back to the hospital.”

  “They’re after me.” Phelps’ voice shook. He was frightened of something or someone. Or his mind had slipped into full manic paranoia. “They’ll kill me.”

  “They who? Why would anyone want to hurt you?” Derek took a cautious step forward. “Look at you. You should listen to Tabatha. You look like recycled shit, man.”

  “Stay back or I’ll kill her,” Phelps said shifting the gun to Tabatha’s head. “It’s me or no one. Is that what you want, Bainbridge?”

  A screech of rage came from above them before a black panther pounced from the limbs of the old oak. Phelps’ gun fell away as he hit the ground. His screams rent the night air when the panther sank its fangs into his neck. He managed to shove the cat away but in the same instant his clothing burst into flames.

  “Roll, Phelps. Put out the fire.” Tabatha looked around for anything to smother the flames. But came up with nothing. Burning flesh and hair filled the air with a pungent odor. Tabatha began to wonder how long her own psychic health would hold up.

  He screamed and rolled about, slapping at the flames until they were out.

  Tabatha searched the yard and finally found Rhonda leaning against the house. Her face was battered and bruised. She pointed to Phelps. “He caught me in the front yard. Hit me and left. Must’ve thought I was out for a while.” She smiled weakly. “Fooled him.”

  Phelps whimpered and turned his tortured face to Tabatha. “Help me, darlin’. You can stop the pain.”

  She took a step toward Phelps, but Derek pulled Tabatha away. “Stay here until we get him handcuffed.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Lord, I’m tired of being told to stay like a well trained dog.”

  Rhonda came to Tabatha’s side. “I did it, Tabatha. I was scared, but I did it.”

  Tabatha gathered her into her arms. This was a breakthrough of sorts for Rhonda. She’d not cried or run away. She was proud of herself. So was Tabatha. “Yes, you did. You saved our lives, girlfriend. You’re a hero.”

  Rhonda beamed. “Well, that’s a bit much, but okay, I’ll take it.”

  The panther curled at their feet and purred. Tabatha reached down and ran her fingers over its fur.

  Derek checked on Rhonda. “You okay, kid?”

  She nodded. “Better than okay. Tabatha thinks I’m her hero.”

  “Won’t get an argument from any of us. You two saved us all.” Derek glanced down at the panther. “How about you, pussy cat? You okay?”

  Bobbie rubbed her face up his leg and bared her teeth in a catty smile. In a cat’s hiss she said, “You betcha, big boy. I’m always fine. Wanna see?”

  Derek rolled his eyes. “Don’t even think about it. I’m a one-woman-man.”

  Tabatha swatted Bobbie on the shoulder. “And this one woman is going to kick your ass if you don’t leave her man alone.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Tabatha stepped under the crime scene tape surrounding the garage. Mason had warned her not to come back to his crime scene. He’d gone so far as to say he’d toss her “prissy ass” in jail. Her inner voice screamed that she had no reason to return to its dark confines, but her dream the night before had been filled with her grandfather’s urgings that she go back.

  The dream was uncomplicated and easy to decipher. Raoul sat at his desk writing in his journal. He turned, his gaze meeting Tabatha’s before he held out the journals to her. “You must find them. Your powers are strong, but your knowledge is weak. These hold the body of truth and the key to your survival.” She’d awoken sweat drenched, wrapped securely in Derek’s arms. Her chest ached with each intake of breath, and her heart drummed against her ribs as if trying to escape. Tabatha was tired. Tired of being afraid. Tired of worrying about Derek, her mother and friends. She’d crept out of Derek’s embrace and left him to his own sleep phantoms.

  And now she stood, running a reluctant gaze over her grandfather’s hidden chamber. Dreams were just that, dreams, illusions of the subconscious. But this garage and its secrets were her reality.

  With little effort, she shoved the freezer away from the yawning entry to her hell on earth. The odor of death gushed out with a foul breath, surrounding her with misery. Elizabeth had been right. Nyssa had been playing her sadistic game right under her nose. How could Tabatha have been so blind?

  Her senses separated the smells. Gardening chemicals blended with the metallic scent of blood, rotting flesh and vomit from the officers who had been ordered to gather evidence from the crime scene. She swallowed away the bile burning her throat, as she remembered the row of blood filled jars, the eyeballs floating in vinegar. Tabatha forced herself to enter and turn on the light.

  To the right just a few feet from the door sat her grandfather’s roll top desk. The wood now dry and cracked held very little resemblance to the desk she remembered him spending hours polishing. A heavy layer of dust covered the top, giving it the appearance of nonuse.

  “Concentrate on the desk and not the scene as a whole,” she told herself then opened the top drawer. It held pens, paper and an old pack of Clove gum, but no journals. Tabatha slammed the drawer shut and fought the desire to scream and cry simultaneously. She was due an old fashion temper tantrum and pity party. The large bottom drawer opened with ease. Inside, tiny pairs of jeans, T-shirts and underwear were folded neatly away. “Where are they, Paw- Paw? Just tell me.”

  She yanked the next drawer open with so much force its contents flew onto the floor. Paperclips, staples and typewriter ribbons scattered everywhere. A cardboard box containing barrettes and ribbons lay on its side. Tabatha ran her fingertips over each of the items, her heart aching for the dead children they belonged to. She placed them next to the clothing, vowing to return them to the children’s parents.

  Tabatha grasped another drawer handle and tugged but was refused entry. She kicked at the offending compartment. Hurt, anger, sorrow rose from her chest with a whimper and tears wet her cheeks. Arms surrounded her waist and pulled her backwards. She screamed and tore at the hands gripping her.

  “Tabatha, it’s all right.” Derek’s voice rippled over her skin like warm lotion. “Calm down. I’m here. Nothing is going to hurt you.”

  Nothing can hurt me. Derek will keep me safe. Tabatha leaned against him, absorbing his heat. “I can’t get it open. I have to find them.” She stepped out of his embrace and kicked the desk again with a scream of frustration. “I have to have the journals. Paw-Paw won’t let me sleep until I do.” A wail not unlike that of a wounded animal tore from her chest. “What does he want from me? Why can’t he just leave me alone?”

  “I don’t know, honey.” Derek held her close again, his heat seeping into her every pore. “Everything will be all right. I promise.”

  She sagged against him, drew a breath, then another. Tabatha concentrated on one muscle at a time willing it to relax. She inhaled deeply, breathed out slowly. “Gads. I lost it for a minute there.” She wiped her tears on his shoulder. “I’m okay now. You can let me go.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to let you go. Ever.”

  “Thank God.” Tabatha buried her face into his chest. “I didn’t mean forever. Just until we find those damned notebooks.” She stepped out of his comforting caress. “Can you get this drawer open?”

  He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small zippered pouch holding an array of tools. He leaned down peering at the lock, chose two knife-like blades, and with a flick of his wrist, released the latch. He opened the drawer and stepped back. The journals lay side by side along with a book titled The Sorceress of Babylon.

  Tabatha gathered the journ
als and book into a pile. “Maybe now I can learn who or what I am.”

  “You’re Tabatha Gray, the woman I love. That’s all I need to know.” He kissed her and pulled her so close she couldn’t draw a full breath.

  She tapped him on the shoulder. “Derek?”

  “What, honey?”

  “You’re suffocating me.”

  He loosened his grip. “Sorry.” He smiled. “Let’s get out of here. This place stinks.”

  She agreed. It smelled of madness and hatred. She picked up the books and glanced at the loaded shelves of her grandfather’s tomes of magic and spells. “As soon as I can get the rest of Paw-Paw’s books out of here, I’m going to have it bulldozed. I can’t stand the sight of it.”

  He led her out of the garage, toward the front porch where they sat on the top step. Rhonda and Bobbie drove up in Tabatha’s Grand AM, jumped out, and strolled toward them.

  Derek glanced at all the bags in Rhonda’s hands. “Where’ve you two been?”

  Bobbie flipped her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Women stuff. We went shopping for some clothes.”

  Derek snorted. “Yeah. Like you’re so fond of wearing clothes.”

  Bobbie looked Tabatha over and rushed to her side. “Girlfriend, you look like hell. You been crying? What’s wrong?” Bobbie sat beside her and gathered Tabatha into her arms.

  Tabatha dug a fresh tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose. “I’m just angry, tired, frustrated. Shall I go on?”

  Bobbie shook her head. “I was so scared yesterday. I thought Phelps was going to kill you. I’ve gotten used to having you around. So don’t go leaving me, you hear?”

  Bertha’s car pulled up behind Tabatha’s, and Bertha stepped out carrying a bag of groceries. “Well, look at you, will ya? Sitting there like you’ve got nothing to do.” Bertha rushed forward to give each of the girls a bear hug. “Now, the time for tears is over. You babies are fine.” She grasped Derek by his shirt and drew him into her arms. “Son, you look like death on a sizzle plate. How’s that leg of yours?”

  “It’s fine, Bertha.” He returned her hug. “But I swear I’m going to take a week off and sleep every hour of it.”

  Rhonda was the first to straighten away. “So. What’s next?”

  Tabatha wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Trying to figure out where we’re all going to stay? Any ideas?”

  Rhonda nodded. “We can use my place. It’s got three bedrooms.” “What about Momma? She won’t stay there.” Tabatha shook her head.

  “No. I don’t think that’ll work. Derek and I stayed at his place last night.”

  “My place isn’t large enough for five people. Maybe two.” Derek glanced at Tabatha. “But I think Tabatha and I need a place that’s ours. No memories. No ghosts.”

  Tabatha smiled. “Thanks. I was hoping you’d decide it wasn’t right for us.”

  “You finally woke up and smelled the pancakes, big boy?” Bobbie stretched out her long legs and leaned her elbows on the porch.

  Bertha clicked her tongue. “Baby girl, you got the perfect place for your momma to stay right over there.” She pointed toward Nyssa’s cottage.

  “No,” Derek and Tabatha shouted in chorus.

  Tabatha rose. “Momma would never stay there. Hell, I wouldn’t want to live in that house. I may just burn the damned place down and roast marshmallows over the flames.”

  “Just say the word.” Rhonda winked.

  Bertha’s eyes widened. “What? Oh mercy. It’s such a nice house.”

  An idea came to Tabatha. “You and Oscar want it? He’ll want to be involved with rebuilding, and you know it. You could live here and save a lot of travel time for both of you.”

  Bertha glanced at the cottage again. Her face showed her indecision. “You sure you don’t mind? It would be better for Oscar. He’s not as young as he used to be. That commute could be rough on him.” Bertha shifted her gaze to Tabatha. “Can we go look inside? See what the old biddy did to the place?”

  Shivers ran up Tabatha’s spine. So much evil had lived there. What would she find? With an effort she smiled. “I think that’s a good idea. See what needs to get tossed and cleaned up. No telling what she has lying around.

  Tabatha followed everyone across the yard stopping at the front door of Nyssa’s cottage. No one moved to open the door. Finally Derek reached out and turned the knob. The door swung freely, unlocked. “Ready, girls?”

  Tabatha walked across the threshold, stopping three feet inside the door. “Well, now I know where everything went.”

  Her grandfather’s clock, armoire, end tables and coffee table decorated Nyssa’s living room. An oriental rug from Raoul’s study covered her floor. Settees and an armchair that had once decorated his library were now reupholstered in garish rose-print brocade, out of place in the small surroundings.

  Bertha cleared her throat. “We can put this stuff in storage until you get the new place built.”

  Tabatha shook her head. Why pay for storage when Bertha and Oscar could use the place as is. Paw-Paw wouldn’t mind. “No. There’s no need moving your furniture unless you want to stay here for good. You’d have to just move it back again.”

  Bertha strode purposefully toward the other rooms. “How many bedrooms, baby girl?”

  “Two. One to the left of the bathroom, the other is on the right.”

  Bertha opened the door to bedroom on the left, made the sign of the cross and gasped. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph.”

  Tabatha glanced at Derek. “What now?”

  She walked to the doorway to see what had shocked Bertha so badly. The wall facing the doorway was covered with blood-red velvet, in the center hung a ceiling to floor crucifix identical to the one on the Guardians’ induction folder. The remaining walls were covered with glistening gold metallic paint. Twelve chairs surrounded a red silk upholstered throne. A tapestry covered the floor, the twelve zodiac signs circling the chairs.

  Tabatha gathered it must have been some kind of ritual room. “I don’t think even Jesus, Mary, and Joseph approve of this.”

  “Well.” Bertha sat her fits on her hips. “I see there’s some redecorating needs to be done.”

  “The lord and her twelve disciples.” Tabatha took one last look and turned away. “I’ve seen enough.” She closed the door behind them, and a rush of sorrow gripped Tabatha to her core. The woman she’d considered her best friend was a thief and murderer. The Nyssa she thought she’d known didn’t exist.

  The warmth of Derek’s hand on the small of her back comforted Tabatha. She leaned closer to absorb his love. “It’s over. She’ll never hurt anyone again.”

  He kissed her softly on the lips. “Honey, I doubt she’ll see the outside world again. From the reports I’ve seen, she’s a babbling idiot. Sits in a corner of her cell, telling the orderlies to let her go free and God will reward them.” He paused. “Mason came in this morning and told me Phelps died last night.”

  “Serves them well, if you ask me.” Bertha handed Tabatha a large manila envelope. “Miss Carla’s missing checks. Found them on the dresser in the other bedroom.”

  Tabatha nodded. Nyssa’s sins just kept mounting. “I figured we’d find them here. Let’s go.” Nyssa was her past, Tabatha was ready for her future.

  “And one more thing.” Derek reached into his jacket pocket and took out a stack of folded papers. “I got the toxicology results back on the soup. And from Carla’s blood tests.”

  Tabatha’s pulse raced. If he was mentioning it, it had to be bad. What had Nyssa done to her mother? “And?” She shut the door to the cottage behind them.

  “The soup had a large amount of a,” Derek unfolded the paper and read, “glycoside called convallatoxin. Same thing was found in your mother’s system. Do you know what Lily of the Valley is?”

  “She poisoned Miss Carla with plants?” Rhonda’s jaw dropped. Bobbie rolled her eyes. “Man, that’s cold.”

  “Perennial plant with little white flowers and red berries,�
� Bertha answered. “Lots of them under them trees around here.”

  “It’s why Carla’s so sick.” Derek replaced the reports into his pocket. “The doctors said she’s lucky to be alive. She’ll be in the hospital for a week, maybe longer.”

  Tabatha’s stomach did an elevator dive. “So, she was poisoning Momma?”

  “It looks that way, but they’ve caught it in time. She’ll be weak for a while, but she’ll live.” He held out a small plastic evidence envelope. “Mason thought this might help you accept the truth. Nyssa was wearing it.”

  Tabatha waited for a long second before taking the packet. She was working on overload as it was. She flipped the top flap open and emptied the contents into her palm. A gold chain dangled Jesus nailed to a stake. “Hypocrite.” She let it slide back into the envelope and handed it back to Derek. “Give it back to him. I don’t need it.”

  Derek slid the envelope in the same pocket as the reports. “They scraped the bottom of the freezer and found what proved to be human skin. So that’s where she kept them until she delivered the body to the cemetery.”

  “Yuck.” Rhonda shivered.

  Derek wrapped his arm around Tabatha’s waist. “Let’s decide where to live.”

  Tabatha entwined her fingers with his and nodded. A place of their own, together. “It may be hard to find a place with at least four bedrooms to rent quickly.”

  “Why four?” Bertha’s eyebrows arched.

  “Momma, Rhonda, Bobbie, and me.”

  Derek shifted from his good leg to the injured one, then back again. Tabatha led him to the porch steps and sat. Derek cleared his throat. “Well, Carla could use my place. It’ll be empty.”

  Tabatha thought about it. The condo wasn’t large, and it damn sure wasn’t grand. But it was cute, cozy, and in an area close to activity. Maybe her mother would get out and do things.

  “Where would you live?”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small purple velvet box and placed it in her hand. “With you, if you’ll have me.”