Tales Of The Abysmal Plane (Zoë Martinique Short Stories) (The Zoë Martinique Investigation Series)

by Phaedra Weldon

  How do you sign, "Duh?"

  A sectional defined the living area from the dining area. A low coffee table, a generic square dining table—covered in mail. I moved to the mail and started sifting through it—and noticed something was off. Dags? This mail is all postmarked three days ago.

  He came up beside me. I smelled cologne. Drakkar. Daniel wore Drakkar sometimes. I pouted silently. "It is? But why is it in here? Maureen's been missing two weeks—and I haven't been here since then." He took pieces from the table and checked himself. "Who's been in this apartment?"

  I looked up and didn't see Rhonda. Where's—

  That's when a scream made both of us jump and drop the mail.

  "Rhonda!" and Dags was running into the bedroom with me close behind him.

  The bedroom was about the same size as the living room, with a walk-in closet (the door was open), a queen-sized bed, nightstands, dresser, and small flat-screen television, which looked more like a computer monitor. Everything was decorated in burgundy and green. Rhonda was standing in the farthest corner by a nightstand.

  No, correction. She looked like she was backed into that corner.

  "Zoë, do you see it?" Dags asked.

  I looked around Rhonda—who appeared more frightened than I'd ever seen her—but didn't see anything out of the—and then it was there, out the corner of my eye, and gone. A fleeting shadow about three feet high that seemed to vanish just as my eyes focused on it.

  Shadow People.

  "It's gone," Dags said.

  I doubted it. I could feel something again, like I had in the loft. And this time, it was the same malevolent undercurrent I'd sensed when we first stepped upstairs. It's still here. Angry apples!

  Dags moved past me to Rhonda and held out his hand. She took it and then folded herself into his arms. I was amazed how they were the right height and build for each other. And even the same hue of basic black. "What happened?"

  Rhonda disengaged and looked over at me. "I was looking in the closet—and it just sort of melted right out of the shadows and came at me. I was—god I feel like such a girl, but I've never had anything happen like that before."

  I moved to the closet myself—oh it wasn't that I was brave—I just wasn't in the mood to let some three-foot spook get in my way. I was bigger, and I was Wraith—and that was a good thing. Right? I stood in front of the closet. It seemed unnaturally dark in there, and I flipped the light switch on the outside of the door. Nothing happened.

  "I did that, too."

  With a glance around the room—taking in the fact that I wasn't picking up any stray misty shadows like I usually did—this place was picked clean—I moved to the bed and lay back on it. I pointed to Dags. You watch this, and then pointed to me.

  I went OOB and stood up. Everything changed. The closet no longer looked like a closet but more like a hole. And there was that spidery misty stuff, only it was concentrated in the closet. What the hey? How B-horror movie was this? And why couldn't I see this when I was in my body?

  I moved toward the closet and stepped inside, expecting there to be like a cave interior with a fire pit. Nope. Looked like a closet. Clothes hanging to my right, shoes below, and then cardboard drawers stacked three high on the back wall. Those seemed to be the only thing of interest, so I moved toward them.

  And abruptly there were three of them, misty, shadowy little people who wavered in and out of sight, standing in front of the boxes. I put my hands on my hips. Oh please. Move out of my way.

  As I stepped forward, the middle one launched itself at me, and I mean sprouted a shadowy mouth like the The Scream painting, and then I saw teeth. I instinctively reached out and caught it around the neck with my right hand, and it hung there, wriggling to get loose. What did it feel like? Kinda like I'd caught air. There wasn't anything to it except a sensation that I had something in my hand.

  But I wasn't paying attention to the other two. One grabbed at my upper left thigh while the third one went for my arm holding their little buddy. They started biting me with their shadow teeth. There was pain, but it was more of an echo. And it was starting to get annoying. I figured there was something in here they didn't want me to find, and I'd had enough of the whole chew-on-the-Wraith game.

  Like I've always said, I don't know how this stuff works, but sometimes it seems to be keyed to my emotions. Anger, happiness, hatred, irritation. And I was irritated at the moment—how would you feel if you had shadow munchkins chewing on your body? I looked at the one in my hands and caught its attention. It looked at me—and by that, I mean I could make out two holes I thought were its eyes. And then it trembled and opened up some garish hole below the eyes and screamed.

  A feeling of euphoria came then, warmth tingling up my arm—it vanished in a spray of gold dust. The feeling evaporated as quickly as it came, but what happened wasn't lost on the other two. They let go and jumped off, their own sets of hole-eyes wide, and their mouths open as well. I motioned for them to move, and I went to the boxes, opening each one of them.

  At about the third cardboard drawer, I found a set of journals, a pen, and a manila folder. Beneath those, I found a book wrapped in a velvet covering. I pulled everything out, stacking it all into the crook of my left arm. The two remaining Shadows watched me, but didn't make a move to stop me or prevent me from leaving the closet.

  Dags and Rhonda were right where I left them, but no longer arm-in-arm. Instead they, to,o had wide eyes as I came out.

  "What are those?"

  I put them all on the bed beside my body. These were in a cardboard drawer—you know the kind you can buy at Wal-Mart or Target? And these little fuckers didn't seem all that enthused on letting me get to them. I turned and pointed to the closet where the two Shadows lingered.

  Rhonda shook her head. "I can see them—but then not see them."

  "You have to look at them almost out of the corner of your eye—like peripheral vision." Dags turned his head to the side. "Zoë, you can see them just fine?"

  Uh huh. Just like in the restaurant.

  Keeping an eye on the two by the closet, Rhonda moved to the bed and picked up the velvet-covered book. Dags and I picked up a journal. As I flipped through it, I realized that's exactly what it was. A journal. A diary that Maureen kept. I moved to the back of the book to the last entry—March 22, 2007. She moved to Georgia and was scheduled to do the Starbucks Experience that night. She was going to be a barista.

  I tossed the book back on the bed—that apparently didn't work out since she'd been a hostess at the restaurant.

  Dags started reading and then sat down on the edge of the bed. Rhonda moved beside me. "Zoë—this is a Book of Shadows."

  I raised my eyebrows. Hadn't Mom mentioned one of those?

  "And—I can't make it out. I can't even figure out whose it is—" she looked up at me. "But I don't think it's Maureen's."

  I pointed to the two watchers, then the book, and made an attack motion. I also rubbed my right arm—it was starting to ache where that little fiend bit it. Which in itself should have been clue-bell number one.

  "If you're asking me if I think they were trying to prevent us from finding this book, then I'd say definitely. But we have to figure out why."

  Dags spoke up, the journal in his hand. "According to Maureen's last few entries in this," he looked up at us. "She and someone named Alice found the book and hid it." He looked back at the journal and frowned, then smirked. "A friend named Dags McConnell put a protection on the apartment."

  Rhonda and I dropped our jaws. "You did a what?"

  Dags shrugged. "Hey, she didn't tell me why or what for. She said her apartment had things in it—that it was haunted. So I did a blessing on this place. That was two days before she disappeared."

  Did you do that? I pointed to the closet—but the little Shadows were gone. Where did they go?

  "I don't know," Dags said. "But I don't feel them at the moment—not anymore. But I can tell the blessing I put on the apartment is co
rrupted. It's there—but it's got some serious holes in it. Kinda like something was beating on the outside, trying to get in."

  "Does it say whose book this is?" Rhonda held it up.

  "No—but maybe we should, like, get out of here and back to the shop so Nona can look at it?" Dags closed the journal and smiled.

  "How come she asked you," Rhonda asked,"to bless her apartment?"

  "Because she saw me do what you two saw me do—at the restaurant—when the little fuckers upstairs were breaking bottles."

  Rhonda stared at him. "So she knew you had power? And it didn't freak her out. Instead she asked you to use it," she touched her lower lip. "So maybe she was a part of the Cruorem as well?"

  "I dunno. I dunno anything anymore," Dags said.

  Rhonda took up the velvet cover and the other journal and slid them into her shoulder bag. "Let's go."

  I handed my book to her and then slipped back into my body. I would have screamed if—you know—I could have. Fire burned in my left thigh and my right forearm. I curled up on the bed and held both of them, almost moving into a fetal position. My god that hurt!

  "What is it?" Rhonda was beside me, pulling my left hand from my arm. Her eyes widened. "Oh god—is that blood?"

  "Blood?" Dags was on my other side, and between the two of them, they had my coat off and my blood-soaked right sleeve pulled up.

  "What the fuck?" was all Rhonda said, echoing my thoughts exactly. "What the hell did that?"

  On my right forearm was a bite mark as big as the Cheshire cat's smile— it was bleeding pretty bad.

  Ow.

  -8-

  This was one hell of a Saturday—and it wasn't going to slow down.

  Once home, Mom did two things: first she grabbed the book and started pouring over the content and saying she could decipher it, and second—

  She called Dr. Maddox.

  The last person I wanted to see was Melvin Maddox—the family physician. And it's not that I really disliked my doctor—but he had an obvious thing for my mom.

  Ew.

  Oh, and he had a personal Ghost—his creepy dead son who always hung about.

  I went to school with Joseph Maddox. We didn't really hang with each other—he'd been catered lunches at school, and I'd been more tuna fish samiches. He had money—me and Mom—not so much. He and his mom were killed in a car accident; unfortunately, Melvin's attachment to his son kept Joseph's Shade fettered.

  To the Physical Plane. Now I don't pretend to understand any of this, I only knew I could see Joseph, and he was always hanging around Melvin. Usually. Mom and Rhonda didn't see him.

  Just me.

  Oh joy.

  Because of the bites—they were deep, and I was bleeding—Mom felt Melvin needed to be there. So I was subjected to an evening of alcohol and a couple of stitches. I wanted to take a long soak in the tub upstairs at Mom's house—but that wasn't going to happen since one of the bites was on my leg.

  No warm bubbles for me—I got bandages and a needle in my ass.

  Mom and Dags ended up in the kitchen, as Rhonda tried to explain to Dr. Maddox how I ended up with bites that big on my body—while she was reading one of Maureen's journals.

  Even I was a little grossed out by the appearance of the bites. Shadow People had some serious dental issues.

  Eventually, the smells of something good came from the kitchen. We were in the Botanica. When we came into the Tea Shop, I was a bit shocked at the spread on the table. Mom stood by Dags and put her hands on his shoulders. "Zoë—he can cook Japanese food!"

  And he had. There was—well—what was this stuff? It smelled heavenly. And to my happy delight, Dr. Maddox got a page and had to leave. Yay!

  "It's easy, guys," Dags started pointing to each of the dishes as Mom showed Melvin out the door. "This is Tonkatsu—deep-fried pork with Panko breading. Over here is sticky rice—I used jasmine rice because I like the taste better. Over there is edamame, seaweed salad, cucumber salad, Teriyaki chicken marinade with orange slices, and Miso soup." He snapped his finger. "Oh, and I have oolong tea steeping in the kitchen."

  I grinned as big as I could.

  Rhonda whistled. "Will you marry me?"

  Everyone laughed. I looked at Rhonda—and was sure the quip wasn't all just a joke.

  We sat down for a nice meal—I ate till my jeans were too tight—drinking more tea than I should have. I had a buzz that wouldn't stop, and I couldn't sit still. So while everyone else talked, I got up and moved into the Botanica.

  The room itself was the house's converted living room, complete with fireplace and mantel. I stuck my tongue out at the stone dragon on the mantel and moved to the section of books in the back of the room. Books, statues, rune bags, candles, all manner of oogie was in this room.

  "What are you doing in here?"

  Tim's voice scared me, and I gave a silent yelp. I turned and glared at the Ghost—he wasn't corporeal at the moment, but I could still see him. Don't do that.

  "Sorry—but you rarely come in here without someone else with you. So—" he held out his long thin hands and gestured at the room.

  Too much tea.

  He laughed. "I think coming from you, it makes sense."

  I pointed to the books. So where in here would I find out stuff on Ceremonial Magic?

  "Why in the hell would you want to learn about that? It's a commanding and compelling art. Something you need stay away from."

  I crossed my arms over my chest—and then winced at the pain in my arm and uncrossed them. Damned Shadow freaks. Why would I need to stay away from it? I don't do this stuff.

  "No, but you being a Wraith makes you more susceptible to their commanding circles. Ceremonials draw a circle to contain and compel, not to welcome in. If you're in Wraith form—I think if you got too close, you could get sucked in. Kinda like Dags—only I don't think there's a way to mojo up an invisibility bracelet for you."

  Now that was comforting.

  That's not why I'm asking. I looked back at the books. The Reverend Rollins somehow made a deal to have a Symbiont, which prolonged his life and his health. Hirokumi was willing to sacrifice his daughter to obtain a Symbiont. So, I turned to look at Tim. Would Ceremonial Magic play into that kind of deal? Because when I saw him today he felt like a Symbiont, Tim. He had all the oogie but then he didn't.

  Tim nodded slowly as if he were thinking. "So you're thinking there's a Symbiont inside of Bonville?"

  Maybe. I don't know. Or maybe it's just a piece of one?

  "I guess anything is possible in this world, Zoë. But I'm far from the expert to talk to. I think you should try and see things with your Wraith eyes. Go with what you know."

  I started chewing on the situation. Was I going off the mark? I didn't know, but I was aware of something tingling inside—as if I was guessing right. So I think maybe learning more about Bonville's past might reveal what his motivations are in this? How Maureen got involved?

  "I think you need to know that—and what's in that book," Tim said, and I realized he'd heard my musings.

  "Zoë!"

  That was Rhonda. Tim and I moved from the Botanica to the Tea Shop. Everyone had a book—Mom had the big book. Rhonda was motioning me to where she sat. "I know how Maureen is involved with Bonville."

  I needed my board.

  And, as if reading my mind, Mom got up—still holding the book—moved to the counter over the cakes and desserts display, and picked up my dry erase board. Still, without looking up from the book, she handed them to me and sat back down.

  I love you, Mom.

  "I know."

  For a second, I thought she heard me, and then I saw her half smile and knew she'd only anticipated my mental response. Or had she?

  I scribbled. OTHER THAN WORK FOR?

  "She didn't work for Dr. Bonville. She worked for Alice Bonville—Dr. Bonville's exwife—at the Livery Bar and Restaurant. That's where the "Alice" person comes from. The restaurant is separate ownership—it was somethin
g Dr. Bonville couldn't touch," she pointed to the journal. "Maureen says in her diary that she and Alice were usually late at the restaurant cleaning, taking stock, and sometimes sharing a glass of wine upstairs. Alice confided in her one night that the restaurant was the one thing that was hers alone. And the place she kept all her secrets."

  Dags looked up. "Was Allard taking things from her in the divorce? Doesn't it work the other way usually?"

  "Yeah," Rhonda said. "Alice was an heiress. She had the money—but apparently he signed a prenuptial agreement. However, he hired a pretty crooked lawyer and was able to find a few loopholes. Where he couldn't touch the family money, he could and did try and take everything they'd worked together on. So she hid most of it—and kept the restaurant by signing it over to Maureen. But for some reason, he wanted the restaurant more than anything else—" she looked up us. "You think it has anything to do with the Shadow People in there? Or those documents? Or—maybe he's after the Grimoire? Maybe it's buried in there like the papers?"

  "I doubt it," Mom said from where she sat with the book. "According to this—" she looked up at us. "I have the Cruorem Grimoire in my hands."

  That shut some books. Rhonda sat up. "You're kidding. You mean it was in Maureen's apartment?"

  "Yes. The encryption used in this is extremely elementary—I'm surprised you didn't see it immediately."

  I looked at Rhonda. She didn't look happy. My mom can be a bit much.

  Yah think?

  "And?" Dags said as he nodded to the book.

  "Most of it is pretty much the ramblings of an idiot—albeit a pretty evil idiot."

  "Are there lots of spells?"

  "There are lots of grandfathered spells." Mom held up the book, and we all gathered around. There were lots of older pages, worn and smudged, with fancy cursive handwriting, as well as diagrams and symbols. But the newer pages in the back weren't as nicely rendered, nor were there any intricate drawings. "As you can see—the front of the book is part of the older Grimoire, and the back is his new stuff."