by Lori King
Before Victoria managed to compose an apology, Freya spoke again, I do not object to having helped him. He is your ally and he fought well, even though he was overcome by the wight. Healing him was appropriate and honorable.
"Thank you, Goddess," Victoria said, speaking quietly enough that she wouldn't be overheard over the constant, and now annoying, blare of the alarm. And hell—wasn't someone going to do something about the blasted sprinklers? She was sick to death of getting drenched.
Freya snorted quite indelicately. That won't be a problem much longer.
A great boom detonated cracked wood and the door to the room exploded inward. Firemen clad in full emergency gear burst into the honeymoon suite.
"Oh, yeah," Victoria muttered. "We're being rescued."
8
A dozen different emergency vehicles ranging from police cruisers to fire engines occupied the street in front of the hotel. Traffic cones and cops redirected the few passing vehicles. All the hotel occupants congregated in clusters while a mix of uniformed officers and hotel security stood watch over the unhappy crowd. Most of the guests were disheveled as a consequence of having been dragged out of bed. Following the fire alarm, the entire hotel had been evacuated while safety crews performed a thorough inspection of the property.
"Okay, Victoria. That's everything I needed to know." Officer Sims flipped his report pad closed.
"Are we done then?" A wave of heartfelt relief swept her to have the uncomfortable interview finally over. Throughout, she'd stuck to the cover story she and Daniel had hastily constructed—a fire had started in their room, setting off the alarm and sprinkler system. She didn't know the cause of the fire, but if pressed to speculate, maybe bad wiring had been at fault?
"We're done. If there's anything else I can do for you..." His gaze lingered on her—an interest that had nothing to do with his job and everything to do with the way her wet t-shirt clung to her breasts.
"Thank you, but no." She offered a polite smile in rebuff. Although there were things the police officer could've obtained that she needed, such as a dry set of clothes. After an hour in the back of the ambulance beneath a thermal blanket, her shirt and jeans were still soggy.
On cue, an EMT with the ambulance crew appeared from around the side of the vehicle. Jerome—early-thirties, handsome, dark hair, and brown skin. He halted. His hostile regard flickered to Officer Sims. He raised his arm; a pair of plastic flip-flops dangled from his fingers. "I found a pair of sandals for you. They may be a bit big."
"I'm sure they'll be fine. Thank you." Standing between the two men, she set the shoes on the ground and slipped her feet into them. As predicted, they were a couple sizes too large, but she didn't care—better than going barefoot. Now she just needed to find her missing companion and—
Through convenient coincidence, Daniel approached from the direction of the hotel. He wore his sheriff's badge in plain sight on his belt—the credential that allowed him to move among the other officials but then hesitated, frowning at the two men who'd been hovering over her for the last half hour. She suppressed a snort—served him right for disappearing on her.
"Oh, I see my husband. Thanks, guys! You've been terrific." Victoria slipped between them and made a beeline for Daniel.
"Sorry for leaving you alone for so long. I had to run interference with the local police." Daniel settled his hand against the small of her back. The hunter had acquired a clean shirt, but she caught the distinct odor of wet denim. He must be at least as uncomfortable as she was.
"No problem. I understand." She hesitated, pondering. "I think I have a lead on locating Mac."
"Yeah?" He lit with feline intensity. A question trembled on his lips, but he held it and followed her, demonstrating an impressive combination of self-discipline and trust. "That's great. All those old papers are probably ruined. Even if something survived, I doubt we'll be able to get back into the suite anytime soon. There's an arson investigator on the scene."
Victoria winced. "Do they think we...?"
"Maybe... But even if they do, don't worry about it." He shrugged. "My family has enough influence it won't stick."
She pressed her lips together in a grim line and bit her tongue. His family might have sway, but hers didn't. Arson charges could ruin her career. But no, he'd trusted her with his life during the fight with the wight. She owed it to him to believe he would put the same effort into defending her as he would himself.
"Hey." Daniel brushed his fingers across the inside of her elbow. His touch elicited a visceral reaction—electrified her skin—so every hair stood on end. His voice was a caress. "You know I've got your back?"
"Yeah, I know." A smile split her mouth. Joy suffused her heart. Of its own volition, her hand snagged his in a tight grip. She swung their linked arms in a gesture of unity.
Her smile faded, and she hesitated for a moment, considering. Everything she owned except the clothing she wore was currently inaccessible—at home in Phoenix or up in the hotel room. Daniel only had the weapons he carried on his person, which happened to include the wicked knife—a questionable blessing or curse.
"Where are we going?" Daniel shortened his long stride to match hers.
"Over to the Longhorn Saloon." From the look of it, the bar was still open. No matter, she hurried her steps, concerned it would close its doors at midnight since it was a weeknight. Outside of the college towns, small Arizona cities seldom had much nightlife.
"All right."
She let go of his hand and headed toward the corner at the closest stoplight. He turned, observing her progress. Maybe he expected her to wait or look back. She kept going and had the gratification of his rushed steps as he kicked it into high gear. Daniel caught up with her on the corner. When the Walk sign lit, they crossed together.
"Do you have your lock-picks on you?"
"Right here." He patted his pocket.
"Good. We're going to need them."
"Man, you just love the mysterious lead-in, don't you?"
Victoria only smiled.
They entered the Longhorn Saloon and paused within the entryway to survey the area. The bar was crowded with unkempt refugees from the Hermosa Inn. Apparently, others had shared their idea to refuge there. It made blending in far easier. They worked their way to the rear of the establishment where the restrooms were located in a short, dingy hallway. Just past it, a third door bore an "Employees Only" sign.
She traded a look with Daniel—understanding without words. He turned to stand watch. Victoria grabbed the handle, gave it a quick twist, and found it unlocked.
"Come on, let's go." She shoved it open, ducked inside, and Daniel followed her. She shut the door again, plunging them into darkness. Of course, her nocturnal vision compensated, so she could see just fine. The area wasn't totally dark—some light seeped in through high, narrow windows.
"Ah, I think I have a penlight somewhere." Daniel fumbled with his pockets. He bumped his elbow into her shoulder, muttered an apology, and kept searching.
Temptation pushed her tongue into her cheek. She came this close to lending him a hand with the pat down of his jeans. Propriety, however, got the better of her. They had higher priorities than a game of slap and tickle.
"Does this help?" Victoria allowed her eyes to shift fully to wolf so they cast a warm golden glow sufficient to illuminate the area.
"Yeah, thanks." He flashed a ready grin. "You're handier than a flashlight."
She snorted. "Gee, thanks. You know just what to say to flatter a girl."
"You're brilliant."
"Oh, a witty pundit..." She groaned and took the lead along the hallway. Her altered vision lit the way. She passed a light switch without flipping it because she preferred not to risk attracting any attention to their trespass.
"So are you gonna tell me where we're going?"
"Yes. In the 1920s, the Hermosa Inn had a speakeasy located in the basement. The bellhop told me there's a secret tunnel in the basement that leads to t
he—"
He snapped his fingers. "The Longhorn Saloon."
"Correct." She grinned, glancing over her shoulder.
Within a minute, they located the door leading to the basement—it was locked. Without being asked, Daniel extracted his lock picks and set to work. To Victoria's amusement, he got it open a lot faster than the electronic lock from earlier—a good thing because the prospect of getting caught caused her nothing but anxiety. She just wasn't cut out for life as a criminal.
"Second time's the charm?" Victoria quipped when the tumblers rolled.
He grunted, less than amused. "I don't have as much experience with electronic locks."
"Because that's not covered in cop school?" She poked him in the side and followed right on his heels.
"Not so much." Daniel chuckled and pushed the reinforced steel fire door open. Victoria slipped past him and headed down. Her glowing eyes once again lit the way.
"So spill... what's up?" Daniel's voice echoed as did their footsteps. "Why are we heading to the Inn's basement? I expect you weren't overcome by a burning desire to check out the old speakeasy."
"Not quite." Chuckling, she launched into a quick explanation. "Before you were attacked, I spoke with Charity Briggs out on the balcony."
"Yeah? That's great. What'd she say?"
She paused on the turn, midway down. The explanation would take a minute. She preferred to provide it all upfront even if it meant stopping for a second. "Charity believes her husband's soul is trapped somewhere inside the hotel. She says she can feel Joseph. She's searched but hasn't been able to find him. She also identified the murderer of both herself and her husband as Sebastian Greer, the original hotel manager."
"Sebastian Greer died in a hotel fire," Daniel mused. "He was the thing that attacked us?"
"His soul became a wight—the smoldering spirit." Victoria summarized her conversation with Charity, electing to leave a great deal out because they were pressed for time. Later, after this was all over, she would provide him with an exact accounting of the details.
Daniel construed his own conclusion. "So you think Greer killed Joseph and hid his body somewhere in the basement?"
"Yeah, I do—probably sealed up inside the walls or the foundation since it was never found. Remember that spirit I observed trapped within the lobby wall?"
"That was Joseph?"
Victoria bobbed her head. "I believe he needs our help—that he's reaching out for it but he's unable to manifest entirely on the ground level. Meanwhile, Charity's been searching for her husband's soul for decades, but she can't find him because she can't descend past the lobby."
"Their souls have been separated by a single story for almost a century?"
"And by Greer's wight," Victoria added, determined to assign blame where it was due. She derived vicious satisfaction from the knowledge that the bastard's soul had been destroyed. He'd never hurt anyone ever again.
"Man, that's fucked up." Daniel looked as though he'd been floored by the revelation.
"Did you know Charity was a hunter too?"
His brow knit and he hesitated. "No, no idea. I'll ask my father about it when I get a chance."
She nodded, satisfied with his answer. "I'm hoping when we free Joseph's spirit, he can tell us the location of the lost gold mine. C'mon, let's get moving. Mac Guffin isn't going to save himself."
Victoria took the last steps with the hunter hot on her heels. It took some searching but eventually they located the entryway to the old tunnel along the foundation wall facing the Hermosa Inn. Daniel scrounged a crowbar which he used to pry off the boards. The rusted hinges stuck. He put his shoulder against it and forced it open wide enough to allow them to pass. She slipped through the narrow opening easily, but he had to turn sideways to squeeze his broad shoulders through. He brought the crowbar along—no doubt a smart precaution.
The tunnel on the other side was cool and pitch black—a narrow concrete corridor with a low ceiling that forced Daniel to stoop. Once again, her eyes cast the glow that served as their only illumination, but even with that, they could only see a few feet ahead. Victoria hovered close to Daniel's side while they advanced. The attack in the hotel room had left her on edge and feeling protective—maybe even overprotective—of the man she'd come to regard as her hunting partner. The attitude was dangerously close to pack mentality—she'd have to watch that.
"I expected it to smell worse," Daniel said.
"So did I." She sniffed and inhaled dust. A sharp sneeze tore from her. At least she didn't detect any vermin or mold.
"It's been sealed up on both sides for a long time."
It took less than a minute to reach the other side of the tunnel. They encountered another entrance, presumably leading to the basement of the Hermosa Inn. She stood guard while Daniel pried the door open. This time, at least, it wasn't boarded shut on the inside. Here, the hallway widened and the ceiling height rose—the dustiness decreased too. The janitorial staff maintained a commendable level of cleanliness. Oh, and it kept getting better—they came across a light switch on the wall. Victoria swatted it—ceiling mounted lights came on.
"Sweet. How do you intend to figure out where the body is hidden?" Daniel asked. "I've worked with cadaver dogs, but Joseph has been dead for decades..."
"Are you calling me a dog?" Victoria endeavored to sound deliberately snappy.
"Uh." He gave a guilty start and glanced at her face. As soon as he took in her wicked smile, he lapsed into a double take. Snickering, he said, "Very funny."
She grinned. "My nose is good but nowhere close to a cadaver dog's."
"No?" He looked askance at her, clearly doubtful.
"No." She offered the affirmation, one hundred percent serious. Domesticated dogs actually possessed superior olfactory abilities to wolves—canines having been bred for it. Oh, her sense of smell far surpassed that of any human, but she couldn't have given the average bloodhound a run for the money. It didn't matter—her plan for locating the site of Joseph's grave had nothing to do with any of the five mundane senses.
"Huh." He gave the distinct impression of filing away the information for future use. After a delay, he asked, "What's the plan?"
"Joseph's been trying to reach out to me since we arrived. Hopefully, now that Greer's out of the picture, he'll be able to break through." Victoria closed her eyes and focused on opening her inner eye so she could peer into the Shadowlands. While she always had some awareness of the spiritual plane—particularly auras—it operated in degrees.
"So we're gonna let him find us? I hope he's in a congenial mood." Daniel grumbled, and his underlying scent remained tart with uneasiness.
"Me, too." Worry ate at her also to a lesser extent, but she hadn't forgotten Macan. When she opened her eyes, she perceived more of the otherworld than the physical. Cupping her hands to her mouth, she called, "Joseph! It's all right to come out now. Sebastian Greer is gone..."
She advanced along the hall, watching for any spiritual activity along the walls, and Daniel came with her. They progressed as a team—side by side. Her position allowed her to guard against any incoming threats from the left while he parried to the right. If attacked from two sides, they could shift stances so they were back to back. Every thirty feet, Victoria repeated her summons. Still, long minutes dragged past without anything to show for their efforts. Patience wasn't her strong suit—never had been. Frustration rumbled in her throat.
"Easy." Daniel's deep blue nimbus washed over her—cool and comforting as the ocean. He centered her.
She glanced over, opening her mouth to speak when the wall beside her rippled and bubbled. A hand sprouted toward her, supported on a thin arm stalk. With an exclamation, Victoria jerked toward it.
Daniel mirrored her motion. "What is it?"
"I think we've found Joseph." Or, more accurately, Joseph had found them. She refrained from grabbing the ghost's arm. Spirits were notoriously skittish—sudden movement might startle him into vanishing.
/> Where the arm joined the wall, the smooth gray surface ballooned outward, and became two distinct lumps—his head and other hand. His face resembled that of a mannequin, mouth open wide in a perpetual silent scream. A man trapped beneath a sheet except his prison was constructed of concrete.
"That's it. Let me help you." Cautiously, Victoria reached for his hand. Just before their fingertips touched, the spirit's entire body thinned and quivered like a rubber band strained to its breaking point. Quicksilver swift, he snapped back into the wall and vanished.
"No!" Victoria lunged, but her palms smacked against the solid surface. She pounded it with her fists. "Damn it! Come back."
"Victoria?" Daniel touched her shoulder.
"What?" The inquiry burst from her, rude and abrupt, a measure of her immense frustration. She remained faced away from him.
"Look."
She turned—stopped. Her lips parted in sheer surprise. Charity Briggs stood at the end of the hallway, as solid as could be. She wore her bright red cloche hat and summer dress, looking as though she'd stepped straight out of a 1920s’ fashion magazine.
"Now that Greer is gone, I'm finally able to enter the basement," Charity explained in answer to Victoria's unvoiced question.
"How is it I can see her?" Daniel asked from the side of his mouth.
"I don't know." Victoria shook her head—it didn't matter. The fact that he could was remarkable enough. "Maybe because it's Winter Nights—All Hallow's Eve? The veil is at its thinnest. Spirits are often able to cross over."
He grunted, signaling acceptance.
Charity turned away and addressed them over her shoulder. "I know where Joseph is trapped. Follow me."
Daniel and Victoria traded a quick glance—agreement resonated between them. They chased after Charity, fast at first, but then slowing once they'd caught up. The spirit led them down the hallway, around a corner, and then walked straight through a closed door.
Victoria grabbed the knob and said a silent prayer of thanks to find it unlocked. They entered an immense room that housed the hotel's central heating and air conditioning. Just past the entryway, they paused to get oriented.
