The halloween haunting, p.12
The Halloween Haunting, page 12
“I want an update on the murder investigation, an explanation for Mandy’s disappearance, and an assurance that the police will not be haunting the Society’s front door for the foreseeable future.” The glint in Cornelius’s eye had taken on a preternatural glow.
Unlike me, he had complete control of the bleeding in his eyes. My eyes might bleed red and glow when my emotions skyrocketed, but Cornelius used the eerie laser-beam look for effect. The man had complete control, and it sent chills up my spine every time I got caught in the line of fire.
When no one rushed to fill the silence, I turned to Alex. He usually stepped up in times like these. He glanced up from a text he was reading.
Lifting his phone, he said, “The autopsy hasn’t been completed, but I’ve got preliminary comments.” When Cornelius nodded, Alex continued, “Evidence at the scene pointed to a discharged Taser. Gabe told me last night that they found AFID tags near the victim’s body. I just got confirmation of two small punctures on the victim that could have been made by the prongs of a Taser. Thus far, it’s suspected that she died of a heart attack, but they’re waiting for the autopsy to confirm.”
“Heart attack?” Alfred said. He had that pale, waxy look again. Maybe Alfred had his own health issues we should all be more mindful of. This wasn’t the first time his color had been less than stellar.
“How is a heart attack brought on by a Taser in any way magical?” Although I supposed a staged Taser shot gone awry might be a good cover-up for getting zapped by some kind of nasty magic. “Is there some kind of magic that looks like a heart attack?”
Alex, Cornelius, and Alfred all looked at me like I was a naïve, fluffy little bunny. At least I wasn’t getting any judgment from Dot. “Okay, staging a fatal heart attack isn’t that hard in the world of magic. Got it.”
“Especially not if someone actually pulled the trigger on a real Taser,” Alfred said. “It’s not uncommon where I come from to use a magically charged Taser. It looks like a regular Taser charge that triggered an underlying heart condition, but it works every time, whether there’s a heart condition or not.”
“Wow. That’s so…” I wasn’t sure what. Terrible. Sly. “Calculated.”
Alfred’s face got this pinched look that made me want to hug him, but then he shook his head and said, “Dot doesn’t have a Taser. Do you, sweetheart?”
“I don’t, but that’s not a problem if someone’s actively trying to frame me. That type of purchase information can be planted. Or a cash receipt slipped into my things. Why me, though?” She frowned. “If your aunt had stuck around a little longer, I was hoping she might have a clue for us.”
Cornelius cleared his throat. “Your aunt, Ms. Andrews?”
And from thin air, Great-Auntie Lula appeared and stumbled into Cornelius’s arms. “Oh!”
Remaining much less flustered than any person had a right to be, Cornelius steadied my aunt and then took a step back with only the mildest look of annoyance. “Mallory’s aunt?”
She grinned at him and extended her hand. “Lula Belle Minter. How do you do?”
And miracle of miracles, he smiled back and took her hand. “I do very well, Lula Belle Minter. Cornelius Lemann, and I’m quite certain the pleasure is mine.”
Cornelius was not flirting with my ninety-four-year-old great-aunt. That was not happening. I squinted and looked closer. My ninety-four-year-old great-aunt might be wearing the same clothes, but she seemed to have lost several decades since we’d last seen her.
“Um, Aunt Lula?” I said tentatively. Mom taught me better than to mention either a woman’s appearance or her age in mixed company, but sometimes the rules of polite society didn’t apply. Especially when dealing with the paranormal. “You seem to have lost a few decades since we saw you last.”
She pried her eyes away from Cornelius—at least the interest between the two seemed to be mutual—and turned to me with an almost line-free face. “Ah, yes. Be glad, because I wouldn’t have been able to slip past whatever wards you people have erected if I wasn’t getting stronger. Someone”—she shot Alex a squinty-eyed look, an expression that sat oddly on her younger face—“tried to lock up the property against the non-corporeal. I’m not sure how long I can flip those wards the bird.”
I was contemplating commenting on her colorful language when I was sidetracked by Alex murmuring something resembling an apology. Miracle of miracles: the man did know how to apologize.
Aunt Lula patted his arm then pulled a deck of tarot cards from the pocket of her broomstick skirt—cards that displayed not a single frolicking cat—and said, “I believe we’re overdue a look at the cards.”
21
The Tyranny of Cornhuskers
“You’re dead.” Bradley’s pronouncement fell somewhat flatly. He looked at Aunt Lula with suspicion. “I checked. You died twenty-six years ago.”
With the tarot deck clutched in her hand, Aunt Lula spun around on the ball of her foot. If she’d been creak-free before, she was downright agile now. “Bradley.” When he nodded, she said, “Mrs. A is very proud of you.”
His eyes narrowed, and he looked around the room.
“She’s not here. She’s gone”— Aunt Lula’s cheerful demeanor slipped around the edges—“to wherever it is that we go when we move on.”
“How do you know about Mrs. A if she’s moved on?” Bradley asked.
“I’ve been trying to keep an eye on Mallory, though it’s never easy for the dead to track the living. Your lives move with terrific speed from our perspective. And time is tricky, since our sense of it isn’t the same after passing.”
Those few glimpses I’d had of her had been real. I was having a hard time accepting her presence in my life. Even after she appeared, she hadn’t seemed as informed about my life as I would have expected from someone who’d ghost-stalked me. Also, Alex’s otherworldly antennae hadn’t been picking her up. But every time it came up, it seemed just a little bit more real.
“You saw her when she died?” The suspicion in Bradley’s voice had eased only a little.
“Without corporeal ties to this world, I truly don’t have a good sense of time, but it wasn’t too long afterwards. Perhaps a few days? She was happy that you’d made new friends and proud of you for getting involved.”
That sounded just like Mrs. A. She’d done her best to pull Bradley along into the mainstream of life, and, to some small degree, had succeeded. He wasn’t the kind of person who gravitated to new people or adventures, so seeing him involved in her murder investigation, spurring that step out of his condo and into the world—even if it was with her death—would have tickled her pink.
Bradley finally nodded. For once, he and I were on the same wavelength. He closed his laptop and gathered the loose papers and pictures into their original file folder. When he was done, he stood up and offered my aunt his seat. Actions always spoke more loudly than words where Bradley was concerned.
“That’s lovely, Bradley. Thank you.” Turning to the subdued group, Lula said, “Who’s ready for a reading?”
Dot muttered, “Finally.”
Alex crossed his arms. Alfred just seemed pleased that Dot was happy for now, and Cornelius looked intrigued.
“So how does this work?” I asked. Time to get ready for some weird. Aunt Lula, returned to corporeal form by the power of Halloween and Alfred’s wonky magic, was going to read tarot. “Do we need candles, incense, music…or something?”
She waved a hand dismissively. “No, nothing like that.” Then she shot me an apologetic look. “Unless I’m ruining your first reading? Would you prefer candles? No incense. It makes me sneeze.”
“Oh.” I looked around, but no one else seemed to think tarot required atmosphere. “No. Of course not.”
Alex quirked an eyebrow at me and then walked over to his desk, where he retrieved a scented candle he usually reserved for Boone’s visits to the office.
“Smells nice, adds a little atmosphere, and doesn’t make me sneeze.” Lula patted Alex on the arm. “Well done.” Then she gave me a pointed look. “Good-looking and accommodating. Now, if he’s good in bed, this one is a real keeper.”
Aunt Lula and I were going to have to discuss her lack of subtlety. I remembered it being more freeing and less embarrassing as a kid. And there was the tiny inconvenience that vamps weren’t supposed to blush, and I could feel the warmth on my cheeks.
I refused to look at Alex and watched Aunt Lula lay out a spread on the desk instead.
Alex had failed to pursue any of the sparks of attraction that I was almost sure were mutual, and it was a little frustrating. So what did I care what he thought about my aunt’s matchmaking? My resolve lasted a total of point-eight seconds, because I cared too much. I peeked from under my lashes to find his eyes crinkling in that non-smiling smile he had.
“All right.” Aunt Lula ran her hand across the simple three-card spread, about an inch over the actual cards. “Dot, I’m not seeing the danger that I did before. Not for you. But someone close to you is in grave danger.”
“Grave” danger. I had to smother a laugh. She’d had that vision of Alfred’s grave, and puns were funny, even when tension was high. Good thing common sense and the gravity of the situation reasserted itself in the nick of time. People’s lives were at stake, and dying was anything but funny.
Dot looked confused. “Did he put himself in danger by trying to protect me?”
“I’m not sure why the danger has shifted from him to you, but it has. And there’s another risk here. His creativity?” Lula frowned, looking at the cards spread in front of her. “Whatever sparks your inner creativity?”
“Magic,” Alfred said. And given his current magical struggles, it made sense.
Aunt Lula looked up, and I realized her once faded blue eyes were now a bright green. I’d forgotten that she had green eyes when she was younger. “Ah, yes. Given my current company, that certainly makes sense. I’m more accustomed to reading for dead artists than living witches. Context does matter when reading the cards.”
What the heck? It sounded like my great-aunt hosted otherworldly parties for Austin’s dead artsy crowd. She was even cool in the afterlife. I shared a glance with Alex, who looked equally entertained.
His T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, and I couldn’t help trying to catch a glimpse of those alchemic symbols I knew covered his torso and shoulders, spreading down the upper part of his arms. But all I saw was how nicely he filled out that T-shirt. If I didn’t sort out my feelings for Alex soon, it was going to be a problem. I needed my head in the game. I couldn’t let his lack of interest and my simmering attraction distract me when we were working together. Also, I had a date pending with hot Detective Ruiz, and all my lustful thoughts should be pointed his way.
“Mallory.” My gaze snapped to Aunt Lula, and she said, “Focus. Your scattered thoughts are messing with my energy.”
I cleared my throat. “Sorry.” But then a more pressing concern emerged. “Um, what exactly should I be focusing on?”
She rolled her eyes and gathered up the cards. “Anything but that. That is particularly distracting. I might be dead, but all my parts are in full corporeal working order.”
And my aunt had just openly alluded to my sex-fueled thoughts in front of my colleagues, the guy who might be facing death at any moment, and the object of my lustful affections. Thanks, Great-Auntie Lula.
“No clue what you mean,” I said, ignoring the fact that the tinge of warmth I’d felt on my cheeks had now spread to the tips of my ears and my neck. “What exactly should I be focusing on?”
“Yes, Lula Belle, what should we be focusing on?” Cornelius sounded attentive and helpful. Who was this strange bearded man, and what had he done with my boss?
Aunt Lula shuffled the cards with a distant look in her eyes. She paused, turned to Cornelius, and said, “The identity of Alfred’s future killer. That seems a natural sort of question to ask.”
Alfred sighed. It sounded like acceptance to me.
The guy really needed to get a backbone. Then I remembered how he’d tried to protect Dot—resulting in her neighbor’s death, but Alfred couldn’t have known that—and how he’d quickly agreed to meet with Star when it had become a question of protecting Dot, even though he desperately wanted to stay away from other witches.
He didn’t lack backbone, he’d just been beaten down. By Nebraska.
An entire state had turned into a symbol of tyranny in my head. I was starting to really feel bad about all those innocent cornhuskers, the ones who weren’t poking around indelicately in witches’ heads or requiring mandatory work hours or fostering a fear of law enforcement. The ones who weren’t generally evil, nasty pieces of work.
“Uh, maybe a crazy thought,” I said as the pieces of Alfred’s sad history flew around in my head and then clicked into place. If so much of Alfred’s past woes came from one place, then why not this newest threat? “What about Nebraska? Alfred has a history with them, so maybe his history has nosed its way into his present.”
Alfred’s lips pinched. Cornelius looked inquisitive, but I was guessing he was toning down his impatience due to my aunt’s good influence on him.
“A state can’t kill a man,” Bradley said, surprising me with his quick understanding.
Alfred coughed, looking uncomfortable. But he didn’t argue the point with Bradley.
Alex was more direct. “In fact, a state can.” He left out the more obvious statement: that many had, including the Society.
Bradley looked uncomfortable now that so many eyes were on him. “But the state can’t act as a person. It can’t literally kill someone. We need a single actor. To gather evidence and build a case. You’re talking about a conspiracy theory, but we’re solving a murder.”
“True,” Cornelius said. “Though I’m interested, Ms. Andrews, to know why you have such interest in Nebraska. The mere happenstance of Mr. Snodgrass originating from the area isn’t sufficient cause for questioning the entire governing body of the region. And it’s certainly not evidence.” His eyes narrowed. “You yourself have argued that our regulations and enforcement methods are not as just as they might be, so I will once again direct the question of evidence to you, Ms. Andrews.”
“Hey, I’m just brainstorming,” I said. “And it’s not a random fact that Alfred lives in Austin now. The guy’s a refugee. Do you know what they do in Nebraska? How they treat people?”
A resigned look crossed Cornelius’s face. “No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“Wait. How do you not know?” That seemed fishy to me. Shouldn’t a head of government have the lowdown on other governments? “Don’t we have an ambassador or something out there?”
“Paranormal hubs don’t work quite that way,” Alex said. “And Nebraska isn’t exactly what I’d call a hub of paranormal activity, anyway. The population is so thinly spread that there isn’t a city hub, hence the entire state working as the equivalent of a hub.”
“Can’t we send someone out there to have a look around?” And then I groaned. I realized why my brain had made the leap to Nebraska as the evildoer in our murder investigation. “Mandy.” I turned back to the desk to ask Aunt Lula if she could do a spread on Mandy—but she was gone. Again.
Bradley pointed to a piece of paper on the desk, then read it aloud. “‘Back soon, I hope. LB.’”
Dot made a strangled choking sound, then said, “That woman!”
22
Mosquitos, Fleas, Ticks, and…Auntie Lula?
“Could she be any vaguer?” Dot asked in an exasperated tone.
Since this was my favorite aunt, I felt compelled to defend Aunt Lula, even though my own frustration mounted with each ghostly visit. “She’s trying to help us. She can’t control when she comes and goes, and she doesn’t have a clear idea herself of what’s happening.”
Not even a foggy idea. Thus far, we’d gotten specific warnings but vague details.
“If we could figure out how she’s using me to help her materialize fully, I might be able to help her stay longer,” Alfred said. “But I don’t know where to start.”
Dot, Cornelius, Alex, and I all turned to Alfred. Bradley was too busy retrieving his laptop and setting up shop on Alex’s desk again to pay much notice. But the rest of us found that particular statement more than a little interesting.
Alfred rubbed his ear. “She mentioned that I’d helped her become corporeal before Halloween, and I didn’t think much of it. But twice now she’s disappeared right after I’ve noticed I’m very tired.”
“Ewww. Is my aunt some kind of magical parasite?” I didn’t think she’d be okay with that. I wasn’t okay with that, because yuck. Then reason set in as I realized that technically Wembley was a parasite, and I didn’t think he was morally repugnant.
Alfred shrugged. “Maybe? An accidental one, if so. I probably created the connection unknowingly.” Cornelius’s eyes narrowed, and Alfred hurried to change the subject from his “misbehaving” magic. “Ah, I’m guessing the limits on her corporeal form are based on how much extra magical energy she can siphon off me.”
Yeah, still pretty icky, and possibly dangerous for Alfred. We’d have to find a way to cut that connection before something bad happened—oh, like Alfred ending up dead and buried with a gravestone.
Alex landed on the same thought. He asked, “Any chance Aunt Lula’s power drains have a more permanent negative effect?”
“No.” Alfred shrugged. “So far, she fades away as soon as I start to notice. I don’t think she’s taking anything I can’t spare.”
Which made me wonder, not for the first time, what Alfred’s witch wattage looked like. He’d zapped Star. He couldn’t be a lightweight.
“About Mandy, Ms. Andrews,” Cornelius said in dry tone. He’d had enough of ghostly parasites. That, or he had more important things to do than crack the whip over our heads. “Do you have information concerning her whereabouts?”
