Possession (32 page)

“Damned or not, it can’t—” Carlos shot me the coldest glare I’d ever seen, cutting me short. He gave the tiniest shake of his head, warning me off what I’d been about to say. I reformed my idea before I spoke again. “Tribute cannot feed the hungry. . . .” I said, thinking aloud. “Hazzard already brought souls as tribute to Limos. So Limos owes her something in return that they plan to get by turning the Wheel . . . ?”

“The fat ones!” the recorder blared.

Stymak hit it on the tabletop. “Stop that! I know you’re only trying to help, but this is just not the time.”

“The disturbed spirits—that’s the extra energy in the system,” I said.

Carlos got it, but Stymak was lost. “What are you talking about?”

“Never mind, Stymak, just a tangent. Don’t worry about it. Just hold on to the idea that ghosts or death represents energy.”

“I know that.”

“Someone wants more energy, more food, more tribute. They plan to get it from ghosts, and if you don’t have enough ghosts to go around, you make them.”

Stymak was shaken. “Jesus!”

“Exactly. There’s another phrase that keeps coming up in the transcripts—‘beach to bluff and back’—and Julianne keeps painting pictures of the bluffs and the beach in the area that’s now the waterfront and Pike Place Market. It’s all along the State Route Ninety-nine tunnel route, and the Great Wheel makes a very convenient central point to push energy from once it’s been gathered there. All the patients had contact with the tunnel and that contact made them ideal conduits for the ghosts once the patients were injured enough to become comatose.”

“So . . . Julianne’s persistent vegetative state isn’t natural?” Stymak asked.

“I don’t think so. I never did—did you?”

He shook his head, but it was a weak movement.

I went on. “The ghosts are forcing it to linger so they can scream for help, not just for themselves but for the people who’ll be riding the Great Wheel when Hazzard and Limos put their plan into motion. Hazzard doesn’t have any corporeal power to do anything to the Great Wheel, so she has to get someone to help her topple the Wheel and take the lives of the tourists on it.”

“Limos,” Carlos supplied. “It is no ghost. It has power of its own as well as that of the ghosts gathered by Hazzard.”

I felt sick and put my hand over my mouth. Stymak had turned the color of parchment, appalled by only half the knowledge Carlos and I had.

Carlos gazed at me with eyes that smoldered with pain and death. “Very clever, isn’t it? Hazzard and Limos will upset the Wheel and dine on their share of the souls drowned in the ever-hungry sea.”

“We have to figure out what they’re going to do and when,” I said. “It must be soon, because once the patients’ souls have faded out, I suspect their bodies will die too and we can’t let that happen.”

TWENTY

_I
was impatient to talk to Carlos without Stymak around, but
I needed the medium’s help first, so I reined myself in.

“Given to Limos . . .” The recorder had played that segment again and although I wasn’t very comfortable with it, I’d produced the photos of my dermographia. Stymak had looked them over and passed them on to Carlos by putting the phone on the table and pushing it toward him. He wouldn’t touch the vampire even through the intermediary of the device.

“Did you ever listen to those recordings I sent?” Stymak asked me.

“I couldn’t get more than the one phrase I mentioned. I was going to have my . . . someone try translating them or running them through various decryption and filter programs, but he hasn’t been available.”

“I don’t think it’s that complicated, now that we’ve done this. I think it’s just backward. Because you remember the first time we heard this—at the Goss house—there was that phrase, umm. . . .” He searched through his pockets until he found a memory card, which he swapped into the recorder.

He pushed the button and the speaker squealed a bit before it let out the words “. . . Slows row someel vague rot codeth—” He clicked it off and looked up, accidentally catching Carlos’s eyes, and then shifting his gaze to mine. “Makes no sense, does it?”

I shook my head. I’d had the same problem with some of the written pieces I’d seen at Sterling’s house and the dermographia that afflicted Jordan Delamar.

“But if it’s just backward, ‘slows’ could be . . .” He wrote the word on one of his notebooks and then wrote another under it. “That could be ‘souls’ and ‘row’ could be . . . ‘oowwrr’ . . . ‘our’ and then comes ‘someel’ . . . which could be . . . ‘leemos’ . . . that’s got to be Limos—the hunger-monster thing, right?”

“Yes. The ghosts also said ‘Given to Limos,’ and there it is again,” I said, retrieving my phone from Carlos and looking through photos for what I wanted. “Here. The message on Jordan Delamar’s skin.”

I handed the phone to Stymak, who read it aloud. “Given as Limos tribute, those who wasted away. Given to the wheel of death and birth, to break the wheel we are driven.” Stymak put my notebook down and listened to his recording again, writing the message down phonetically and then writing under it, “Souls, our, Limos, gave, tor thedock . . .” He stared at it. “No . . . that’s not right. That’s got to be ‘the doctor,’ so the whole thing is perfectly backward.”

He rewrote the sentence forward: “The doctor gave Limos our souls.”

“They’ve been saying the same thing over and over—we just didn’t get it,” Stymak said. “God, how could I have missed that? Backmasking! It’s the oldest trick in the book!” Then the color rushed out of his face and he stood up, looking more than queasy. “Holy Jesus.” He dashed out of the room.

I glanced at Carlos.

He cocked an eyebrow at me and I took that as permission to pick up the conversation we hadn’t had earlier. “I think the ghosts given in tribute account for the extra energy in the system we were discussing last night,” I said.

He gave it some thought and nodded. “They could. A few recent cases of starvation might have been required to start the cycle, however.”

“At least two homeless people—one of them a contact of mine—died of starvation near the end of last year or the beginning of this one. That’s right in the time zone. There could be other deaths that didn’t come to my attention, or anyone else’s, especially if there was a more obvious cause of death, like cancer or HIV. And here’s another thing—Quinton mentioned a box that sounds like it might be some kind of portable shrine his father brought from Europe for this project of his. He says it contained something when Purlis arrived, but was empty when he got a look at it himself. But it had dirt from the tunnel project on it. I’ve seen Purlis around the square off and on for about a year now, so I think he hid the shrine in some segment of the construction near or in Pioneer Square for a while—probably in one of the monitoring wells—because the area has a high homeless population. There are always a few who don’t or won’t get enough to eat, so they’d be a nice attraction for this hungry monstrosity. And his presence in the area might help explain how he caught on to your people, too.”

“The disruption of the soil accounts for the initial upwelling of ghosts and magic, but the continued presence of Limos would explain why the rise continued, rather than falling back. With Limos loose and fed, she could have been a formidable problem for us, but she hasn’t been.”

I wondered at his use of “she” but I didn’t want to derail my train of thought with that right now, and instead I said, “I think the deal between Limos and Hazzard is not just for their own profit. I think Purlis must have some stake—”

Carlos cut me off with a quick motion of his hand and a glance at the door. In a moment Stymak returned and sat down again, looking pale, smelling slightly sour and wiping his face with a damp towel. “Sorry. This thing is wigging me out.” He looked again at the transcript he’d started and at my photos. “Couple of these guys are kind of poetical, aren’t they?”

I gave it a thought and said, “A lot of these ghosts are from the early twentieth century—pre–World War I—and fairly well educated, so, yes, they might be inclined to be flowery.”

“Yeah, I can see that, especially if they’re victims of Linda Hazzard’s. But who or what the hell is that Limos-thing? It didn’t feel like a spirit, really. Some kind of demon?”

“A god,” Carlos suggested.

Stymak and I stared at him. Stymak turned his gaze aside quickly, but kept his attention on the vampire. “What makes you think so? I’ve never heard of him.”

“A distant memory . . . from my childhood.” Carlos gave me a sly grin. “Yes, I did have one, Blaine. Greek and fairly obscure, I seem to recall—Limos, the goddess of famine and hunger. However long forgotten, she has the ability to create or destroy—if she can access power.”

That explained his use of “she” earlier, but I said, “Why didn’t you mention this before?”

He bowed his head very slightly and cut his gaze down. I thought that might have been embarrassment, but it seemed unlike him to be abashed. “I’ve been teasing the memory from the back of my mind since she gave her name. But even I can’t dredge up everything I’ve ever known.”

I hadn’t thought about the depth of memory he must have, or how much work it might be to put all the pieces of a disused fact back together. “Do you think she’s going to do something more tonight?” I asked, casting a glance toward Stymak, who was looking worse by the minute.

Carlos shrugged. “I think not. She spent a great deal of energy to come here and try to overawe us. She wouldn’t do that if she was planning some other action tonight as well. You’ve annoyed her and she’s made a tactical error in attacking you two, wasting energy and drawing too much attention to herself. She would have been better served to let us believe Hazzard was the only spirit we needed to worry about.”

Stymak looked ready to scream or faint—I wasn’t sure which was more imminent—and I thought I’d better cut the discussion short before he lost it completely. “I think
we’d
be best served to drop it for tonight. You and I can do some research. Stymak needs to rest.”

Stymak stood up. “Actually, I think I just need to get away from both of you. I—I can’t do this anymore. Tell Lily I’m sorry. I can’t . . . touch this anymore. I feel sick . . . filthy. This is . . . this is not what I signed up for.”

He tore the page he’d been working on out of his notebook and dropped it on the table, then swept the remains of his materials into his bag and hurried out of the room with his head down.

I looked at Carlos, who returned an arch look.

“A delicate one, your Mr. Stymak.”

“Sensitive—isn’t that what a medium is supposed to be?”

“He won’t last long if he continues this way. He hasn’t learned to separate his feelings from what he is told by ghosts. He allows the horror of it too deeply into his mind and it will drive him mad. Or kill him.” He peered at me. “I assume that would not sit well with you.”

“Of course not. But I suppose
you
would have a certain . . . connoisseur’s appreciation of it.”

Carlos snorted. “You continue to think little of me after all this time, Blaine. I do not revel in the distress of others. Unless they deserve it.”

He was right and I was being unfair. I sighed. “I guess we’re out one medium.”

“For now. He may recover.”

“We may not need him now that we know what we’re looking for.”

“I doubt this will be so simple. We should, perhaps, arrange some help for Mr. Stymak. . . .”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “What sort of ‘help’ do you have in mind?”

He chuckled and my stomach flipped. “Nothing of that sort. I’m concerned for him. He has overtaxed himself and is in distress. I’ll arrange for someone to look after him and keep him from harm. I doubt he’ll be paying much attention to the psychic realm right now, and that could be dangerous for him. Cameron’s attention to our wider community makes it in my best interest to ensure that people like Stymak don’t fall victim to their own powers.”

“Altruism just looks so odd on you, Carlos.”

He let out a full, rolling laugh that hit me like an earthquake. “You must work very hard to remain so cynical, Blaine.”

“It suits me.”

He grinned, but didn’t reply.

We left the pub together, seeing no sign of Stymak and getting a strange look from the owner as we went, but no trouble. I wondered if I would be allowed back in the next time I went to the pub. We walked toward the parking lot where I’d left the truck. The séance hadn’t lasted very long; it was only a bit past midnight. The sun comes up early in the summer so I knew Carlos would soon want to get to whatever safe place he hid in during the day.

“Where is Inman?” he asked.

“Huh?” I grunted, surprised.

“You promised me the location where Purlis has Inman. I’ve done your task and now I would like my half of this bargain paid.”

“I’m not certain that Inman is there,” I hedged. “I didn’t get inside.”

“But you know where Purlis operates. That will do. Take me.”

“Carlos, the sun will be rising in a little more than four hours. I’m not sure it would be wise for you to start on a rescue mission right now.”

“That is for me to decide. Take me.”

“No. This conspiracy of ghosts has to be broken before they do whatever they’re going to do. I can’t let people die because you want your pet dhampir back right this minute. And if Purlis is actively involved in my case, it would be better to let me do my job and undermine his position before you go after him.”

Carlos grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me to face him. The shock of his touch weakened my knees and drove black pain through me. I struggled against the despair and horror that invaded my mind, trying to push them back, but the closeness of his dark energy was pervasive and I could feel him concentrating on me, driving the sensations and thoughts that made me feel fragile and helpless.

“Don’t toy with me, Blaine. You can do no more tonight without my help. And what else you would do can be accomplished in daylight, where I cannot go. Time is short, yes—short for both of us.”