by Harper, Lou
Apparently, Murry thought so too. "Meoooowrrr." He vocalized his opinion from his roost on the back of the sofa. He stared straight at Bran while doing so. Bran stared back, furrowing his brows in the manner of a man holding back words of disagreement. Murry held his gaze with feline obstinacy. A sharp ringing broke the stalemate. Bran marched out into the foyer to the intercom, and Denton drifted after him.
"Hello?" Bran barked into the device.
A tinny female voice came from the speaker. "Mr. Maurell?"
"Yes. Who's this?"
"Hi, I'm Ash…Ashley. I was your waitress the other night. Can I please come up? I need your help."
Well, that was an unexpected turn of events. Denton watched Bran hesitate, probably fighting his antisocial instincts. Civility won out. "Third floor." He buzzed her in.
A minute later, there was a knock on the front door, and Ashley walked in. She looked younger out of uniform, in jeans and a plain T-shirt, her hair framing her face in lazy waves. The sunlight tangling in her locks brought out their reddish hues. She clutched a small brown purse in front of her as a shield. Bran's glare couldn't have helped her anxiety. The sight of her nervously chewing her lower lip woke a pang of sympathy in Denton. Her lipstick was already in ruins.
Since Bran could be counted on to make her feel more ruffled, Denton resolved to play the role of the host. He ushered her into the living room and over to a comfy chair.
"Can I get you something to drink? Coffee, tea, water? A shot of gin?" he asked.
"Water would be nice," she replied with a grateful smile.
A minute or two later, they were all settled around the coffee table, Ashley on one side, Denton and Bran on the sofa across from her. Murry kept his old post on the back of the sofa.
Ashley perched on the edge of her chair, sipping from her glass, her eyes darting from Bran to Denton. "It smells good in here," she said.
Denton nodded toward the windows. "Herbs." To him, the scent barely registered anymore. "What can we…Bran do for you?" he asked to get the ball rolling.
"I need your help getting rid of a ghost." The words rushed out of her like water from a broken dam. "Uncle Roger bragged to everyone how you stopped the haunting at the restaurant. And you really did!" Her gaze flicked to Bran, then quickly back to Denton. "And you seemed such a nice couple, so I thought…"
Denton glanced at Bran, who seemed engrossed in the study of his cuticles. So he turned his attention back to Ashley. "Roger Sparks is your uncle?"
She nodded with unwarranted enthusiasm. "My mom's brother. You see, I'll be going to school for hospitality and restaurant management next fall. I'm working in Uncle Roger's restaurant till then. My father thinks kids should learn real work before going off to college. I've been doing everything from food prep to washing dishes. It's been my first week as a waitress. I don't think Uncle Roger likes having me in the kitchen—it gets rowdy in there with all those guys. I don't mind, though." Her death grip on her glass relaxed a little.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-one."
"So, about the ghost…"
"Yeah, you know I've never believed in this spirit stuff. My friend Jessica does, and I've gone along with it, mostly to make her happy. I mean, it's so important to her, and you should encourage your friends in what they feel passionate about, right?" She didn't wait for an answer. "But then working at the restaurant made me wonder. There was something creepy in the air, and things happened you couldn't explain. I saw with my own eyes a pot of boiling water jumping off the stove. Jeremy would've gotten scalded badly if he hadn't moved away just in time. He quit the next day. It made me change my mind about things."
"Have there been any incidents since the cleansing?"
"No! Not a single one. It smelled funny for a few days, that's all. The place even feels different, you can tell. Uncle Roger's happy as a clam. But then this thing happened with Jess, and I didn't know what to do. When you came to the restaurant, I knew it was a sign—you can help." She addressed just Denton now.
A barely audible groan from Denton's right informed him that Bran was nearing the limits of his endurance. Better get to the point. "Your friend, Jessica has trouble with a haunting, correct?"
She bobbed her head, and her locks bounced around her face. "She's possessed."
"Possessed?" That was the last thing he'd expected to hear.
"Yes."
"Isn't exorcism the area of the Catholic church?"
"I thought of it, but then I imagined the face of Father McKinley if I told him about Jess being taken over by an evil spirit. He'd think I was crazy. And Jess isn't like Linda Blair in that old movie. But if Mr. Maurell could chase a spirit out of a restaurant, he should be able to do it from a person. It's the same general principle, isn't it?" She sneaked a look at Bran.
After his silence, Bran's serious baritone startled Denton. "Maybe. Tell me what happened to your friend. From the beginning."
She pulled herself up straight and took a deep breath. "Jess and I have been friends since we were little. She saw a movie when she was seven and decided to become a witch. I wanted to be a ballerina at that age, but it passed. Jess, though, she stuck with it. It became her thing. She was doing tarot card readings and love spells by junior high. You know, I think it made her feel special. Everyone needs that sometime, and she sure didn't get it from her mother. Mrs. Porter ignored Jess most of the time, and when she didn't, it was only to let Jess know how disappointed she was in Jess. Or blame her for Mr. Porter leaving." Ashley's face darkened. "She wasn't a nice person. And you know, Jess has always been an average kid, not pretty or smart, but this witchery stuff made her feel special. She's a friend, and it makes her happy, so why not, right?" Ashley stopped and gave a weak smile as if she was trying to apologize for her friend.
Denton expected Bran to lose his patience, but he simply nodded. "Go on."
Ashley took a deep breath. "Okay, so Jess works as a psychic. Well, it's a part-time gig—she lives with her boyfriend, who has a good job, but she's talking about getting a little storefront somewhere. Right now she has a website, does house calls and stuff. Three weeks ago, she had an appointment for a séance. I went with her as I sometimes do. It was at a condo at Lincoln Square. A couple had just bought it, and they thought it was haunted. Or I think the wife thought so. She looked like the twitchy type, if you know what I mean. I think her husband went along with whatever she wanted. So, we started with an Ouija board to see if there was a presence. It's the way Jess likes to do it. It spelled Nina, and we all got excited. We started a regular séance, and Jess asked this Nina person to reveal herself."
"How?" Bran asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Were you sitting? Did you hold hands?"
"Oh, that. Yes. Of course. We sat around the dining room table, holding hands. A single white candle burned in the middle of the table."
"So you were part of the circle too?"
"Yeah. It was just the four of us. If it had been a bigger group, I would've stayed out."
"What happened next?"
"Not much at first, but then I felt this chill. I've done these things with Jess since we were twelve, but I've never felt anything like this before. The hair on my arms stood up. Then I think I saw something."
"What?"
"It's hard to tell, a shape or something. The room was dark with only the candle giving light, and I felt it more than I saw it. I thought maybe I was imagining it, but it freaked me out. Then the candle went out, and Jess started talking."
"What did she say?"
"Stuff like, 'No I don't want you. Go away. Leave me alone'. Said 'no' a lot of times. Then she got quiet. She seemed to have snapped out of it—shook herself and apologized. She said the spirit didn't want to communicate, but there was nothing to worry about. We left, but on the way home, I realized something was wrong."
"Wrong how?"
"I…it's hard to put into words. Jess wasn't herself. I thought maybe she was tired, bu
t she's been this way since. As if she had a personality replacement, you know? Normally, she's quirky. She gets jealous of people, but she's never been mean. Now she's like someone on reality TV. Mean and bitchy, and she scares me."
"It's not exactly proof," Bran said.
"And I think she killed the neighbor's cat!"
Denton heard a throaty growl and realized it came from Murry.
Bran reached up stroked the cat. "You think?"
"There's a stuffed ginger tabby on her windowsill. She said she'd gotten it from an antique store, but there are missing cat posters all over the neighborhood, and the photo looks just like it."
"Hm."
She clutched her glass, and desperation filled her voice to the brim. "You have to believe me. There's something evil inside her. I'm afraid she'll do something really bad if we don't get rid of it." Her eyes flickered from one of them to the other, imploring. "I tried to find out who Nina was, but didn't have much luck. I have a list of everyone who lived in the apartment since 1936, but none of them is called Nina."
Bran's brows twitched up. "You have a list?"
She put the glass of water down on the table so fast it nearly tipped over. She caught it in time, and her face flushed red. "Sorry." She pulled a piece of paper out of her purse and handed it to Bran. "It's not a long list. The building used to be apartments, then co-op, and finally converted to condos two years ago. The last person living there before the current couple was a man named Michael Smith. There was a couple before him, Walter and Dee Manning, no children, and before them a woman named Esther Bernal. She lived there from the thirties till she died twelve years ago."
Denton peeked at the list—under the address stood the names and dates. Murry yawned and stretched and then jumped to the ground. He wound himself around Ashley's feet. She reached down and scratched his head. "Maybe Nina never lived there. A lot of things could've happened in the apartment in seventy years," she said. "She could've been, I dunno…maybe, you know, murdered there or something." She stared at them with eyes big and full of hope and pleading.
Bran folded up the sheet. "Maybe."
"So will you do it? I can pay. I have money saved up, and I can borrow from Uncle Roger if I have to."
Bran tapped his palm with the edge of the paper. "We'll talk about money later. I need to evaluate your friend first to be sure she's really possessed."
Even her freckles seemed to glow as she smiled. "Do you need to talk to her?"
"No. I want to observe her without her knowing."
"It's doable. We're going out on Friday night. Some place Jess picked—Club 9. Do you know where it is?"
"Yes."
"Oh, okay. We're supposed to be there around ten, but Jess is always late, so I guess we'll get there by eleven or so."
"Good. It's settled, then."
After thanking them profusely, she left. Bran saw her to the door and locked it behind her. It was time for Denton to leave too, but he had a few questions first.
Murry had something to say too. "Meow?"
Bran looked at the cat as if he understood. "I know. Dinner?"
"Meow!"
The two of them had this routine down pat. Denton could almost believe they were having an actual conversation. It was dorky cute, a lovable chink in Bran's armor of solemnity.
Denton followed them into the kitchen and watched Bran dump a can of cat food into a bowl, and Murry fell on it with gusto.
"Do you really think the girl might be possessed?" Denton asked, leaning on the doorjamb. Effectively, he had Bran cornered, and he liked the situation.
Bran stuck to his spot by the counter. "It's not impossible."
"Does it happen often?"
"Fortunately, no."
"Have you ever exorcised anyone?" Denton detached himself from the doorway and took a step inside.
Bran seemed to watch him with alarm. "No. And I'm not sure I can."
"Than what's the point of getting involved at all?" Denton took another step closer to his quarry.
Bran blinked and looked away. "Sometimes you just can't help yourself. Sorry, I must do some research into spirit possessions." He stepped around Denton and fled the kitchen.
"Fine! I'll just let myself out," Denton shouted after him.
Something bumped his leg, and he looked down to see Murry rubbing against him. "Your human is a real pill, you know."
"Meowrrr."
***
Friday night, Club 9 was hopping. Seasonal decorations of orange garlands and fluorescent skeletons alluded to the fact Halloween was only days away. The crowed seemed in a festive mood too—costumes and glitter competed for attention everywhere the eye could see. Denton had done his best on short notice to fit in. With generous amounts of gel, he'd shaped his hair into artful spikes. His ripped black jeans and white shirt emphasized his bony body. He'd added combat boots and a few chains for the full punk-rocker effect. Dark makeup around his eyes and on his lips made him come across downright eerie. At least he thought so.
Bran, on the other hand, had dressed in his usual head-to-toe black ensemble. With the long black trench coat, he had a sinister air, but it failed to impress Denton. "You could've made an effort."
Bran frowned at him, took tiara-style devil horns out of his satchel, snapped the cheap, plastic thing on his head, and glared back at Denton. "Happy?"
"No. Not really. Is this the best you can do?"
"Yes. What are you supposed to be, anyway?"
Denton shot him an indignant glare. "The ghost of Sid Vicious, of course. You know, if you were serious about it, you could rock the devil look. You have the physique for it. Some red body paint, tight leather pants…" The images he'd conjured burned bright in his mind's eyes. "Even better, assless chaps!" He joked, of course, about the chaps. Mostly. Although, he would've loved to get a glimpse of those buttocks at last. He grinned like mad.
Knots of consternation formed between Bran's brows. "Right. Let's find Ashley."
Killjoy. Trying to get Bran to have fun was like pulling teeth. "I should've dressed as a dentist," Denton grumbled to himself while trying to catch up to Bran, who had already taken off to search the crowd.
In the end, settling close to the bar turned out to be the best solution. As in the Serengeti, in a nightclub too, every beast returned to the watering hole sooner or later.
Denton noticed their quarry first. He nudged Bran. "There. Hermione Granger talking to the barman; that's Ashley."
Bran followed his gaze. "And the girl next to her must be Jessica. What is she dressed as?"
"Hm, I'm guessing slutty nurse. Very slutty."
The brunette Denton saw didn't fit the plain-Jane image he'd had of her after listening to Ashley. Sure, the girl wasn't a looker, but she had youth on her side. She would've been fine if she didn't appear so desperate for attention. The difference between the two girls was striking. Ashley had natural charm even in her fairly demure costume. She was attractive without trying, and all the straight guys noticed it. Meanwhile, Jessica, in her too-tight, too-short costume, functioned as a creep-magnet.
If he didn't know better, he would've mistaken Bran for one of those creeps. Bran watched Jessica like a hawk. He watched as she downed a red cocktail—Cosmopolitan, probably. He watched as she dashed to the dance floor, dragging Ashley with her, as she zapped to the bar, lustrous with sweat, had another Cosmo, and went back to dancing. Bran watched Jessica flirting without finesse with any guy straying into her orbit. He even watched as she and a swarthy zombie slipped away with the subtlety of a pair of elephants.
Ashley turned back from the bar with fresh drinks. Confusion spread over her expression as she couldn't see her friend. Bran waved to get her attention. She took another scan over the crowd before striding up to them. "I'm so glad you're here. Did you see where Jess went?" Worry surrounded her like a thick coat.
Bran motioned toward the back door. "In the alley with some guy. We have a few minutes."
Her face fell. Hard.
"I can't believe she'd do this. She loves Robbie. Jessica wouldn't cheat on him. This Nina bitch has taken control of her. Do you believe me now?"
She seemed on the edge of tears, so Denton patted her arm. "Don't worry. We'll take care of it. Right, Bran?"
"Right."
Ashley pulled herself together and nodded. "I better go before she sees us together. Thank you."
"So what's the verdict, is Jessica possessed?" Denton asked as Ashley scurried away.
"I'm still not absolutely sure. I have to get closer."
"I thought you were an expert."
"Possessions are rare and not easy to catch. My expertise is herbs, okay?"
"Fine! Don't bite my head off."
They waited. Jessica returned twenty minutes later, disheveled and misbuttoned. They couldn't hear the exchange between the two girls, but Ashley's anxiety and Jessica's disdain of it were easy to read. With a petulant air, Jessica turned her back to Ashley and marched to the bar. Ashley gave Denton and Bran a frustrated glance and followed her friend.
Bran tugged at the lapel of his coat. "I better do this now before they leave. Stay here." He too walked to the bar and wedged himself next to Jessica. He behaved the same as any other patron trying to attract the attention of the busy bartenders, but he also gave Jessica the once-over.
From his spot, Denton had a perfect view of what happened next. Jessica turned toward Bran with a coy smile on her lips, but her expression warped into a mix of fear and hatred. For a flicker, her features weren't even her own—Denton clearly saw the features of a strange woman snarling at Bran. Unfortunately, the bartender chose that moment to get to Bran, distracting him.
Denton could hardly believe his eyes as the tall glass in Jessica's hand smashed against the edge of the bar. Bran heard the sound of the glass breaking. He turned just in time to block the jagged edge of the glass aimed at his face. He stepped back, but she lunged at him again, with a low swing this time.
The attack happened so fast and out of the blue, everyone in the vicinity stood and stared in stunned silence. Soon, though, a couple of beefy bouncers rushed to the scene, along with Denton. One of them held a shrieking and struggling Jessica. The other had Bran's arm in a vise grip. A quick exchange between the bouncers and the barman cleared Bran of any wrongdoing, and the bouncer let him go. Bran announced he was fine and didn't need medical attention. It seemed to satisfy the two men, who proceeded to eject Jessica from the club. A mortified Ashley followed her.
