Always Look Twice

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  “If you are.”

  “Then let’s do it.” Olivia turned the wineglass over and put her fingers on the rim, placing it in the center of the board. Either it would work or it wouldn’t. Neither she nor Allie would falsify a reading, moving the indicator on her own.

  The younger woman placed her fingers on the inverted wineglass, too. “What should we ask him?”

  “First, we should make sure it’s Dad. If a spirit shows up at all. We might not reach anyone.”

  “Are you kidding?” Allie managed a smile. “We have powers. What able-minded ghost would ignore us?”

  They sat for a while, channeling their energy. The scent of vanilla candles, Allie’s favorite fragrance, sweetened the air.

  And then the indicator moved, a featherlight motion, sliding in a slow circle, taking their hands with it. They looked at each other. They hadn’t asked a question yet.

  “Someone’s anxious,” Allie whispered.

  “Dad?” Olivia said.

  The wine glass moved to No.

  “You’re not our father?”

  Once again, a negative response. A silent No.

  “Who are you?”

  Nothing happened. The indicator stalled.

  Olivia and Allie waited. Then the glass shifted slowly across the tabletop to the letter Z. The indicator continued moving, until the name Zinna had been spelled.

  “That’s pretty,” Allie said. “Are you a woman?”

  The wineglass slid to Yes. Then it started spelling again.

  O.

  W.

  L.

  Olivia sucked in a breath. Owl. “Do you know who the owl lady is?”

  “Yes,” came the Ouija board reply.

  The sisters exchanged a glance. Then Allie asked, “Who is she?”

  The glass moved to G.

  Outside, the rain continued to fall, showering the roof, making heartbeat sounds.

  Finally the indicator slid to another letter, then another. By the time it stopped, it had spelled great-grandmother.

  For a moment Olivia and Allie remained quiet. Then an image flashed in Olivia’s mind. A demented shape: white-tipped feathers, long black hair, a face that was part human, part raptor.

  The spirit they’d channeled.

  Dear God. She looked at the indicator, felt her fingers tremble. “It’s her.”

  Allie gave her a dumbfounded stare. “What?”

  Olivia pushed away from the table. “Her. Zinna is our great-grandmother. The owl lady. That’s who we’re talking to.”

  “Oh, shit.” Allie tore the tape off the bottom of the Ouija board and ripped the cardboard, trying to tear it in two. “We shouldn’t have done this. We shouldn’t have messed with the dead.”

  The lights flickered.

  “Shit,” the younger woman said again.

  “Don’t panic.” Olivia helped Allie destroy their homemade device. “Just don’t give her your soul.”

  “Oh, sure. No problem. That makes me feel a lot better.”

  Thunder cracked in the sky.

  Then the front door rattled.

  Allie’s eyes grew wide. “Someone’s trying to get in.”

  “Maybe it’s West.”

  “But what if it isn’t?” The door rattled again, harder this time. So hard, they realized the being on the other side was trying to force its way in.

  West wouldn’t do that.

  Olivia took her sister’s hand and raced into the living room. Steeped in anxiety, she opened the gun case, knowing there wasn’t time to grab her Glock from her nightstand. The rest of her arsenal would do. Unless, heaven help them, the thing Zinna had conjured was already dead.

  Samantha leaped off the DVD player and hissed. But a second later she made a beeline for the noise.

  “No!” Allie shouted, trying to stop her cat.

  Too late.

  The loft door flew open, stealing Olivia’s breath.

  Chapter 15

  West froze in the entryway. “What’s going on?”

  Olivia lowered the weapon in her hand. Her trembling hand. She wanted to throw her arms around him, to thank the Creator that he was safe. But she wanted to shoot him, too. To teach him a lesson. “We were expecting a monster. You scared us half to death.”

  He frowned. “The door was stuck. And why were you expecting a monster?”

  Allie dropped to the edge of a nearby chair. “Because the owl lady is here.” She opened her arms, gesturing to an entity they couldn’t see. “She talked to us on a Ouija board we made.”

  He eyed the loft suspiciously. “What the hell for? Why did you conjure her spirit?”

  Allie responded, “We were trying to contact our dad.”

  “And got our great-grandmother instead,” Olivia interjected. “Her name is Zinna.”

  “Wonderful. Perfect. Now you’re on a first-name basis with a shape-shifter.”

  Olivia set her gun on the coffee table, realizing it was the Magnum her dad had used. “Don’t you dare reprimand us. We were worried sick about you.”

  Samantha finally butted into the conversation, meowing at West’s feet. She’d been waiting all this time for him to acknowledge her, to baby her the way he usually did.

  He left his briefcase in the entryway and picked her up, giving her the attention she craved, carrying her into the living room. “I’m sorry if I scared you, if I made you worry.” He looked at Allie, then stole a wary glance at Olivia. “But I wasn’t expecting either of you to be up. It’s—” he paused to glance at his watch “—almost one in the morning.”

  “No kidding.” Olivia crossed her arms, warding off a chill. The heater in the loft hadn’t come on, in spite of the weather. “We thought something happened to you.”

  He set the cat back on her feet. “I’m fine.”

  He didn’t look fine. His hair was soaked, falling onto his forehead, and his clothes were damp. And on top of that, he had faint circles under his eyes. “Where have you been?”

  “I went to Kyle’s house earlier.”

  “Why?”

  “To check on his wound. I promised I would, remember?”

  “Yes, of course.” But she hadn’t expected him to do it this evening. And not without telling her first. Of course she hadn’t told him that she’d met with Moon until later, but that was different. “Is Kyle healing all right?”

  The special agent nodded, then removed his damp jacket and hung it on a vintage coatrack. He still wore the suit he’d had on earlier, but his tie was gone. Folded in his briefcase, no doubt.

  “What did you do after you checked on Kyle?” Olivia wanted to know.

  “Drove around, mostly. Stopped at a lookout point in the desert and watched the rain.”

  “Why didn’t you answer your cell phone or respond to your pager? I’ve been trying to reach you since nine o’clock.”

  “After I left Kyle’s house, I turned them off. I needed some time alone. I wanted to think, to go over some things in my head.”

  “Things?” She studied his troubled expression. “You mean the case?”

  “Yes.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, his posture tense.

  Olivia glanced at Allie and saw that her sister was watching West, analyzing him, trying to gauge his emotions. She probably thought he was still smarting over Olivia’s rejection.

  The I-don’t-love-you remark.

  But, hey, he hadn’t gone off to brood. He was consumed with his job, with the Slasher investigation. The way he should be.

  Allie, Olivia decided, was a hopeless romantic. And so was Samantha, she supposed. The cat was slinking between West’s legs, rubbing against his ankles, looking for attention again. Either that or giving herself a kitty thrill, getting orgasmic over him.

  Which, Olivia knew, was easy to do.

  “I suppose it’s better that you’re both awake,” he said. “I was going to talk to you in the morning.”

  “About the case?” Allie asked.

  He nodded, and a second l
ater thunder echoed through the house, intensifying the storm.

  Olivia looked around, wondering if Zinna was watching them.

  “I figured it out,” he said.

  Olivia’s heartbeat blasted her chest. “You know who the killer is?”

  “Yes.” He blew out a heavy breath. “But this isn’t going to be easy. For either of you.” He pulled a hand through his rain-sloshed hair. “This is going to hurt.”

  “Oh, God.” Allie started to rock forward. “It’s someone we’re close to, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” he said again. “Someone who matches the profile. But I haven’t told Muncy and Riggs yet, either. I was going to wait until morning for that, too.”

  An image flashed across Olivia’s mind. A painful vision. Blood on her bedroom floor. West struggling to breathe.

  She held up her hand, saw her fingers shake. “Don’t say it! We need to get prepared first. We need to get ready.”

  He blinked. “For what?”

  “A fight. The minute you say the killer’s name, all hell is going to break loose.” Because Zinna was protecting the Slasher. Olivia knew that now.

  But even so, it didn’t make sense. Why would Zinna protect the witch that had killed Yvonne? Her own granddaughter?

  West shook his head. “I can’t withhold this information. It’s a murder investigation. I have to report my findings.”

  “I’m not asking you to withhold it. I’m just asking you to wait.” She reached for the Magnum on the table, shoving the gun at Allie, trying to arm her sister. “Take this, damn it. And if anything tries to hurt him, shoot it.”

  Allie’s dark skin paled, goose bumps freckling her arms. “It’s Dad’s gun.”

  “Yes, and Dad would want you to use it.” She took a moment to show her sister how to load the Magnum, how to fire it. Then she glanced at West.

  “Calm down, Olivia.” He tried to grab her, but she pulled away from him, removing pistols from the gun case, as well as police-style holsters.

  “Knives,” she said. “We need knives, too.” She dug through the arsenal and recovered a handful of blades, scattering them on the coffee table.

  “Are you armed?” she asked West.

  “Yes.”

  She forced a backup weapon into his hand, making sure he clipped it to his belt. “You’re going to need all the artillery you can carry.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” He gestured to their surroundings. “Nothing is popping out of the woodwork to hurt me.”

  “Not yet, but something will.”

  “Zinna?” Allie asked.

  “Yes. Our great-grandmother is protecting the Slasher. But I don’t have a clue as to why.”

  “I do,” West said, proving how much danger he was in.

  Olivia took a deep breath, wishing he’d resigned from this case, wishing he hadn’t uncovered the truth. “There are creatures coming. Monsters. I can feel them.”

  He moved closer, as if he meant to kiss her. But he didn’t. He just looked into her eyes and made her pulse turn fluttery.

  Fluttery. Like a woman in love.

  Oh, God.

  Allie clutched the Magnum. “West shouldn’t tell us who the killer is. He shouldn’t tell anyone.”

  Trying to stay focused, Olivia fought the fear, the weakness in her heart. “That won’t do any good. The information is in his head. He’ll never be safe, not until the Slasher is apprehended.” She strapped a holster to her body, then clipped a row of pistols, extra ammo and a knife sheath onto it. Next she buckled the same type of holster around her sister. “West has to tell us who the killer is, and we have to battle the enemy. We have to end the madness.”

  “Then we should be wearing shoes.” Allie sprinted down the hall and came back with a pair of boots for herself and Olivia. She’d even grabbed Olivia’s Glock.

  And then they gazed at each other, two women dressed in flowing nightgowns and heavy boots, weapons attached to their hips.

  “These creatures won’t be after us. It’s him they want,” Olivia said to her sister. “They’re going to try to detain us so they can get to him.”

  Allie made a face. “But if he tells us who the Slasher is, won’t we be in danger, too?”

  “Yes, but not like him. I can’t explain why. It’s just something I feel.” Her psychic sight, she thought. Anxious, she spun around to look at West. “Fight for your life. But try to stay close to me. Or to Allie. If you don’t, we won’t be able to protect you.”

  “Are you ready?” he asked. “Can I say the killer’s name?”

  Olivia glanced at Allie, and her sister nodded. Even Samantha seemed prepared. She crouched in a corner, blending into the shadows, like a jungle cat waiting to strike, to take down the first evil thing that came her way.

  “We’re ready,” Olivia said.

  West frowned, took a rough breath and opened his mouth to speak.

  But he never got the chance.

  A gust of wind hit him like a tornado, spinning his body, sending him crashing against the wall, rendering him unconscious.

  And then lightning flashed, streaking across the living room like fire. Olivia grabbed her sister, and they hit the deck, taking cover behind the sofa. Samantha remained in the corner, her green eyes darting wildly.

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

  While thunder crashed in the sky, three enormous beings, dressed like Indian warriors, materialized, their feet rattling the floor. A supernatural sentry, they surrounded the special agent, guarding Zinna’s prey.

  “We’re in trouble,” Allie said.

  Olivia studied the giants. Although they weren’t armed, they were at least seven feet tall, with hulking, mutantlike bodies and vertical eyes. “They’re from West’s culture. Mythic creatures his grandfather used to tell him about when he was young.” She paused, steadied her weapon. “Zinna probably created them from West’s imagination. The way he envisioned them when he was a boy.”

  “Why are they just standing there?”

  “I think they’re waiting for us to make the first move.”

  “They’re not hurting him.”

  “They daze their victims. They make them crazy. But it’s only a temporary insanity.”

  Another flash of lightning lit up the room.

  “Look!” Allie shrieked.

  “I know. Keep your voice down.” West was regaining consciousness, stumbling to his feet. Although he was barely visible, Olivia could see him, searching for her and Allie, gazing through a narrow space between two giants. “I think he’s already starting to feel it. He’s already getting dazed.”

  “He probably has a concussion, too,” her sister whispered. “He hit his head pretty hard.”

  Olivia wanted to charge through the monster brigade and put her arms around him, hold him, protect him. He was struggling to unholster his gun, struggling to think clearly. A trail of blood dripped from his hairline, running down the side of his face. He wiped it away, blinked, retrieved his weapon and aimed it at the back of one of the giants.

  “He’s going to open fire,” she said.

  “Should we do that, too?”

  “Yes. On my command.” Olivia waited, watching her lover. He swayed on his feet, pulled the trigger, then managed to duck for cover, zigzagging between the giants, running, jumping, landing behind a chair.

  “Now!”

  Thunder roared. Bullets popped, blasting like firecrackers. Olivia shot the creatures full of holes. Allie’s wasn’t faring so well. The recoil on the Magnum startled her, knocking her on her butt. West was having problems, too. From her vantage point, Olivia could see him, fighting dizziness, struggling with his aim.

  Olivia kept firing. But the giants were barely fazed by the bullets. She switched to a higher-caliber weapon, hoping, praying, to take them down.

  But her effort proved in vain. Penetrating their skin was next to impossible. They reacted like elephants being pelted with BBs.

  Angry, annoyed.

  Then the lights
went out. Even the streetlights were gone. A blackout, Olivia thought. But she knew it was witchcraft, not a result of the storm. The flames on the candles had been vanquished, too.

  “Olivia?” Allie’s voice quavered in the dark.

  “It’s okay. I have a flashlight.” She removed it from her holster, but the damn thing didn’t work. “The supernatural energy must have drained the batteries.” She touched her sister’s shoulder, reassuring her. “I can handle this. I can sense where things are.”

  “Well, I can’t. It’s pitch-black in here.”

  Something growled.

  Allie caught her breath. “What was that?”

  Silent, Olivia zeroed in on the energy. Gray fur, pointed ears, fangs.

  A bewitched canine.

  “It’s a wolf.” She paused, steadied her weapon. “A lone male. There are bats hanging from the ceiling, too.”

  Her sister all but squeaked.

  Silence.

  Then thunderous footsteps. Objects crashing to the floor, splintering, rolling.

  Allie squeezed Olivia’s leg. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s the giants. They can’t see in the dark, either.” She froze, felt the wolf creeping across the room toward West.

  She turned, fired, missed.

  The lights came back on, sending the bats into a tailspin. Wings flapped in fury, filling the living room. Allie screamed, waving her arms.

  Olivia struggled to reach West, to stop the wolf from reaching him. But the bats were everywhere, blocking her path, diving, darting, careening into each other, making hellish sounds. Irritated, she fired at the winged creatures, dropping them like oversize flies.

  Still crouched on the floor, Allie grabbed the Magnum and starting firing, as well. She took out a few of the birdlike mammals, but she hit a window, too, shattering it, sending a gush of rain into the loft.

  In the midst of the chaos, Olivia spotted Samantha. The cat attacked her share of bats, swatting them with her claws. But then she slid on a stream of water and bumped into another cat.

  A tabby that morphed into a chicken.

  A lohka. Another being from West’s culture.

  Allie screeched, and Olivia spun around. One of the giants had pinned her to the floor, putting his ugly face next to hers. Allie froze, sucked in a panicked breath, then reacted on instinct, kicking him between the legs.