by Harper, Lou
He listened to Gabe's report, took down the address he was given, and hung up. Poking his head into Bran's study he found Bran sitting by the desk, surrounded by old tomes and notebooks and staring at the cork board hanging from the wall. Denton looked too and saw many pieces of papers—some notes in Bran's handwriting but most of them runes and symbols, drawings of circles, triangles, and pentagrams in a variety of arrangements. They seemed like fragments of spells and invocations to him. Pinned to the top of the board was a photo of Peter Lattimer. Denton recognized him—it was the same picture Bran had him use for the failed summoning last fall.
At the time he thought of Peter as bland, now, taking a better look he had to revise his estimation. Peter wasn't exactly handsome, but not ugly either. The Polaroid showed a man with a wide chest and biceps stretching the sleeves of his T-shirt to their limits. The exact opposite of Denton's stringy frame. So this was the kind of man Bran was attracted to at sixteen.
A surge of resentment and dejection took care of the remains of Denton's arousal. "Busy?" he asked tight-lipped.
Bran snapped out of his reverie and opened the closest book on his desk. "Yup. Stuff to do," he said without glancing in Denton's direction. Denton left him to it and walked back to his own apartment.
After all, he had work to do to—he'd received an email from Joy earlier. Okay, so it was something super easy he could throw together in less than an hour. Not even a real job, more like a favor. One of Joy's many friends played drums in a garage band and they needed a website. A few photos, short text, and a page of upcoming gigs that Joy's friend could update himself once they had some upcoming gigs. Denton's only payment would be lunch bought by Joy, and a promise of riches when the band made it big. Denton snorted at the thought.
Putting the website together took him forty-two minutes and he triple-checked every line of code. He sent it off to Joy, and fired up Swords and Magic of Calingor. He was a necromancer in the game too—well, he had multiple toons, but his favorite and best equipped was Eviscarius, the necromancer. Eviscarius never had to contend with infuriating lovers—probably because he didn't have one—and he could raise skeletons and zombies to fight for him, and had a giant pet spider. Denton and Eviscarius proceeded to slaughter the mindless mobs of Calingor in search of hidden treasures for hours, for long after the sun went down.
Polite knocking at the door interrupted him at last, just as he was about enter a promising dungeon. It was Bran. Odd, Denton thought, since Bran had a key to his place, the same as he had one to Bran's.
"Father dropped this off for you," Bran said, holding a book bound in worn, brown leather.
"Okay, thanks." Denton reached for the book but Bran didn't let go it right away. For three heartbeats they stood still. Denton took in Bran's bowed head and the rueful curve of Bran's lips and his annoyance evaporated. "Sorry I missed him."
"No problem. What did Gabe have to say?" Bran asked neutrally.
"Name and address. Lyn Burke. Checked out of the hospital earlier today. I figure I'll pay her a visit at home tomorrow. Gabe's still looking for more on her."
Bran nodded. "Right. I made dinner. Are you hungry?"
"I could eat." Denton remembered his paused game. "Give me one second. I just have to put my spider away."
***
After dinner Denton stretched out on the couch—Bran's couch—and opened his new book. Immediately he realized it was not a book—not a printed one. Tidy but dense script filled it page after page, broken up only by a few simple drawings. The first page bore the inscription: True and Faithful Accounts of Intercourses with the Spirits by Hiram Paine.
"I'm assuming he means intercourse in the sense of communication," Denton said.
"I would," Bran agreed. He settled at the end of the couch with his own book and notepad.
As Denton dug his toes under Bran's thigh he noticed the corners of Bran's lips curl up. Murry materialized too and after careful deliberations chose Denton's stomach to nap on. They spent the rest of the evening in a cozy silence.
***
The next evening Denton went to the West Side address he'd gotten from Gabe. The blonde woman opening the apartment door wore her exhaustion like a second skin. Denton had paid little attention to her features in the alley, so she appeared as a complete stranger to him. "Lyn Burke?"
She eyed him guardedly. "Yes. Can I help you?"
"I'm Denton. Denton Mills. I found you the other day, when you passed out. My friend called the ambulance."
"Oh. How did you get my address?"
"The hospital. I wanted to return this to you," he added quickly and held up the blue shopping bag.
Distrust lifted from her face and she gave an embarrassed smile. "Thank you so much. For everything. Why don't you come in?"
She led him into a cramped and rumpled living room. She offered coffee and Denton accepted. "Cream? Sugar?" she asked.
"Yes. Both. Please," Denton replied.
"Forgive me for being rude at the door," she said later, handing him a coffee. "You can't be too careful these days." She offered him a plate of cookies. "Pepperidge Farm," she said, indicating the cookies.
Denton took one and eased himself deeper into the chair, trying to appear as small and nonthreatening as possible. "No, I completely understand. Did the doctors figure out what happened?"
She flicked her wrists in an irritable gesture. "Low blood pressure. They think. I have very little faith left in doctors. I've been feeling like crap for I don't know how long. Some nights I lie in bed and can hardly breathe. I've been to my usual doctor and specialists, they did X-rays, EKG, blood test and God knows what other tests, half of which my insurance doesn't cover and they can't find anything wrong with me. They're all a bunch of overpaid quacks, if you ask me."
Denton had a dark suspicion her ailments had to do with the spirit shadow from the other day. If only he knew whose spirit. "Have you suffered a loss lately?" he probed. "When my father died it affected my mother hard, physically too."
"No. My parents are alive and well. Aunt Berta died three-four years ago, but we were never close. My mother and she had a falling out; I saw her only a handful of times in my whole life."
"Mommy, Mommy!" came the squeals from the next room, followed by a blue-eyed blond boy of about five years. He stopped uncertain, halfway into the room, when he spotted Denton. He wasn't alone. The spirit shadow clung to him like his own shadow. The stink of cigarettes smacked Denton in the nose. A second later the spirit vanished, taking the odor with it.
"What is it, honey?" Lyn asked as the boy sidled up to her.
"Can I have a cookie?" he asked.
"Only one. Dinner's soon," she replied.
"And one for Tony."
"No, sorry, Tony doesn't get a cookie. You can share yours with him."
The boy pouted but she held firm. "Tony is Sean's imaginary friend," she explained, as the boy galloped out of the room.
The whole exchange gave Denton a chance to pull himself out his state of stupefaction. "I should really be going," he said, standing up quickly. He needed to clear his head and think.
***
Denton wracked his brain all the way home. He had a window seat on the L-train, but the gray, slush-covered streets they rumbled past barely registered. The ghost, spirit shadow, whatever he wanted to call it definitely wanted something from Lyn Burke and her son. But what? He and Bran had dealt with a case before where a malevolent entity had possessed a young woman. The spirit had a lot of anger and this one didn't seem particularly friendly either. Banishing it sounded like a very good idea, but he couldn't just tell Lyn, hey you have a ghost—let me banish it for you. That way restraining orders lay. Not to mention, chance of success was questionable.
The spirit had proven to be able to move about freely, so a smudging of the apartment would only inconvenience it. To complicate matters, it appeared to haunt the Burkes but didn't actually possess either of them. The way it vanished at the sight of him suggested aware
ness and wariness of him. He could probably summon the spirit, but not without knowing who it was. He needed to find out more. And there was one man who could help him. He pulled his phone out and dialed as soon as he got off the train.
***
"Gabe?" The severe line of Bran's lips as he pressed them together suggested he wasn't pleased.
Denton didn't see the problem, and was eager to share his reasoning. "I think it's obvious this spirit thing is attached to Lyn Burke and her son—I think more to the kid. Now, from the little I know of spirits, they stick to a place or object—or apparently a person—for personal reasons. Right?"
"Right," Bran reluctantly agreed.
Denton plowed on. "It means the person whose spirit trace it is must have known one or both before he or she died. By the way, I have a hunch it's a man. You told me you like to learn the history of a place before you cleanse it, so you know what to expect. It's the same thing—the more I know about Lyn and Sean Burke, the more likely I'll know what I'm dealing with. With his detective skills Gabe's best suited for digging into Lyn Burke's past. The kid's only about five—I don't think he has much hiding in his closet."
"And Gabe doesn't mind spending his time with this?"
"That's the beauty of it! I did him a favor or two before, plus he's a friend, so he works for free. It's perfect, isn't it?"
"Yes, perfect." The dry tone of Bran's voice contradicted the actual words. "And I'm sure what he's doing is more exciting than house cleansing."
Denton couldn't fathom what Bran meant by the comment, so he took another stab at explaining the situation. "I have a bad feeling this thing's trying to kill Ms. Burke. I'd say let's break into her apartment and smudge it, right now, if I thought it'd work, but this spirit's sly, I can tell. I need to know more before I go against it."
"Well, let me know how it goes," Bran ended the conversation.
Denton swallowed a retort.
Chapter Three
Gabe had stopped the car at the edge of the park. It was a nice, late model SUV with all the trimmings. Denton lifted the binoculars—also Gabe's—to his eyes and through the car's tinted windows watched the group of people about a hundred yards away. The gaggle of children and adults were busy building a snowman while dark skeletons of trees stood guard. The kids ran around clumsily and lobbed snowballs at each other. Denton couldn't hear their shrieks but could imagine them. The spirit attached to little Sean Burke was hard to make out from this distance, but it was there. Denton dropped the binoculars into his lap and wondered what he was hoping to achieve with this.
Gabe was noisily munching on carrot sticks. He held the open Ziplock bag out.
Denton picked out a couple of the carrot sticks. "I thought coffee and donuts were the standard fare for stakeouts."
Gabe shook his head and kept chewing noisily. "Nah, this is healthier, and coffee just makes you piss more."
Denton couldn't argue, and as far as veggies went, carrots were sort of sweet at least. "Nice car," he said to move the conversation along.
"A gift from Augustine."
"Really?" Victor Augustine was the most powerful vampire of Chicago. Denton did the odd job for the guy and that's how he'd met Gabe. "The old bat must really have a soft spot for you."
Gabe shrugged. "I'm useful to him. A slayer who doesn't slay. Much."
"Don't knock being useful. You're on the payroll. I haven't done a job for Augustine for months. To be honest, I don't really mind."
"I can imagine. Reliving some stranger's final moments wouldn't be on the top of my to-do list either."
"I've gotten better dealing with it, but yeah." Aside from Bran, Gabe was the only person Denton could freely talk to about this stuff. It was nice.
"So why are we here?" Gabe offered the bag to Denton again.
Denton shook his head. There was only so much healthy living he could take. "You remember last fall when I told you there was a thing following you around?"
"I do. What about it?"
"Well, sometimes when a person dies, not all of them cross over to the other side."
"Don't tell me ghosts are real."
"I call them spirit shadows. You know how sometimes people get extremely focused on one thing? So it practically becomes their life?"
"Sure."
"Well, when they die that part of them can't always let go and cross over to the other side. It's actually very similar to death traces, in a way. They're both based on emotions, but spirit shadows stay around longer. There's one in front of the Balmoral—it's the old doorman, I'm pretty sure."
"Poor fucker. Can't retire even after death."
"It's not an actual whole person in an incorporeal form, like in the movies. Only a compulsive urge left behind."
"If you say so."
"Sometimes they go away. Yours did after what's his face died. You know the guy who tried to kill you."
"Is it still gone?"
"Yup. It must've meant something. I didn't know crap about this stuff back then. Do you have an idea whose spirit shadow it could've been?"
Gabe sank into a thoughtful silence while staring out the windshield. Eventually, he turned to Denton. "Possibly my father. Maybe he tried to protect me."
"Well, it would make sense. Sean Burke has a spirit shadow following him around too, but I don't think this one means well. Oh, shit!"
Denton hadn't been paying attention and nearly missed Lyn Burke and another woman and their kids trudging their way through the snow toward the car. He and Gabe sank low in their seats. Fortunately the party reached the sidewalk a few feet ahead of the SUV and didn't spare it a single glance. The women were engaged in a conversation and the kids lagged a couple of feet behind.
The little girl seemed younger than Sean. A dusting of snow stood out against the brown braid dangling out of her knit hat. They plodded peacefully behind the mothers when without a warning Sean shoved her hard, making her dive face first into the snow. Except…Denton had seen the shadowy figure bend down as if whispering into the little boy's ear before it all went down.
"What a little shit," Gabe commented.
"He's under bad influence." Denton watched the mini drama enfold. The girl cried, the mothers fussed, and Sean appeared to be protesting his innocence. Lyn Burke's expression was a jumble of embarrassment, exasperation, and anxiety. "So you'll look into her background, right?" Denton asked.
"I already know the basics." Gabe pulled a sheet of paper out of the inside pocket of his jacket, unfolded it, and began to read. "Lyn Gorman, born and raised in Mortonville, Illinois, came to Chicago to study Finance at the University of Illinois, Chicago. She stayed after graduation and married Arnold Burke a few years later, at age 23. Their son, Sean, was born six months later. They divorced when the kid was not even two. Lyn has sole custody and the father has visiting rights. She works as a credit analyst at the Lincoln Credit Union. I can tell you how much she makes."
Denton shook his head. "You were quick, but none of it gets us closer to the identity of the spirit."
"I know. I'll keep digging. Don't worry, I'll find your skeleton." Gabe stuck a piece of carrot into his mouth. It snapped loudly as he bit into it.
***
However, after the stakeout Denton didn't hear from Gabe for days. When he called, it went straight to voice mail. All he got in reply was a text: found smthg. need time. keep pants on. Denton waited, but contrary to instructions, he didn't keep his pants on. Taking Joy's advice he started wearing the kilt around the house. It earned him long stares from Bran.
"Why?" Bran asked on one occasion.
"If you don't try new things once in a while, you'll go stale as an old bag of chips. Change is the spice of life." Denton grinned widely and was sure Bran would see his point. Strangely, Bran reacted by being exceptionally quiet and pensive for the rest of the day. The man was a mystery of infuriating proportions.
Denton contemplated playing up the sexiness potential, but decided against it. Such an approach could backfi
re. He was trying to convince Bran of the normalcy of kilts, after all. So he went about his life as usual, and soon he more or less forgot he wasn't wearing pants.
When Gabe called at last, Denton was busy memorizing one of the more complicated banishing rituals, and was happy to take a break. Learning Gabe was in the neighborhood and with a report to give, he invited Gabe up. He hung up and turned his attention back to the journal.
"Aren't you gonna put on pants?" asked Bran, who'd been following the exchange.
"Nah. I'm good," Denton replied and uncrossed his legs.
***
"Nice socks," Gabe commented after arriving.
Denton glanced down—he wore a stripy pair with toes. "They keep my feet warm. So what do you have for me?"
They were sitting around the coffee table—all three of them, although Denton had to specifically ask Bran to be present. At the moment Bran was glaring a whole arsenal of sharp objects at their guest.
Fortunately, Gabe was facing Denton and had no clue. He pulled a notepad out of his messenger bag. "You'll like this." He flipped the pad open. "Mortonville, where Lyn Gorman grew up is a small town, so I didn't have to search long to find something interesting. When she was fourteen, Lyn was connected with a local murder case."
"Not a suspect?"
"Witness. Her best friend Lucy Parks disappeared when they were both still in high school. The two girls went to the movies together, but only Lyn returned home. When the police questioned her, she made a confession: Lucy had never gone with her to the movies.
"Lucy had a boyfriend her parents didn't approve of, probably because the kid was a dropout and bad news all around. So Lucy used Lyn as an alibi to meet her boyfriend on the sly. They left Lucy's house together, but then split up and Lyn went to the theatre alone. They were supposed to meet up again a few hours later and walk home together, but Lucy never showed."
"Did the police question the boyfriend?"
"Of course, but they had nothing on him and he swore he didn't see Lucy that night. The girl's body was found three weeks later by the side of a dirt road. She was beaten, raped, and her throat cut."
