The Voodoo Killings (29 page)

“Politics. The mayor’s trying to keep the captain’s attitude quiet, at least until he can figure out a way to shift public opinion in his favour over the hire.”

“Good luck shifting public opinion when the seasonal poltergeist calls start coming in.” Thanksgiving and Christmas bring out poltergeist rage like nothing else. “What is he going to do? Read the poltergeists the riot act? I mean, the zombie laws are bad enough, but this is just—”

“He’s not thinking, Kincaid. No one is. They figure they can sway public opinion by insisting that people who get poltergeists bring it upon themselves. Marks really believes if you ignore the ghosts and outlaw practitioners, it’ll all go away. Nothing Aaron and I’ve said has made a difference. Except he won’t let us near the paranormal cases anymore, and has told us the paranormal community is off limits too.”

“Just make sure you’re on vacation in November, Sarah. Preferably somewhere warm with a good poltergeist squad.”

She grinned. “I’ve got a few weeks of vacation time banked. Maybe I’ll take the kids to Hawaii.”

“If you and Aaron both take off for poltergeist season, that could make for some great entertainment.” They were the only two cops I’d trust on-scene with a poltergeist. “So how does Marks feel about you two looking into a zombie murder?”

Sarah just about choked on her coffee. “Oh, no. Marks has no idea Marjorie was a zombie.” She turkeyed her neck and fixed me with a glare. She dropped her voice an octave and, in a bad Midwestern accent, said, “No such thing as the living dead.”

“Love to hear him say that to Lee Ling’s face,” I said. I downed the last of my Americano. “So you have some sort of crime scene for me?”

She waved her phone and stood up. “Got the all-clear from Aaron. Let’s go.”

I ditched the mug in the washtub and followed her out.

“Try to be civil to Aaron—for my sake if no one else’s?”

“I’ll try.”

“Let me guess. No promises?”

I smiled back and pulled my hood up to ward off the rain. “Sarah, you know me well.”

—

I followed Sarah across the street to where she’d parked the dark blue sedan.

On the drive, Sarah made small talk to pass the time. “Nathan Cade still squatting at your place?”

I nodded.

“Heard you had a new job.”

Again I nodded.

Silence stretched between us. “Sober companion? Seriously?”

I shrugged. “Just trying it out, as a favour to Max.”

Sarah glanced sideways at me. “Aaron had a few choice words about the guy you’re helping.”

That surprised me. I wouldn’t have thought Aaron told that kind of thing to Sarah.

“He’s fine,” I said. “Just an artist who got in over his head. What do you two want me to look for?”

“I think we’d rather just get your unbiased opinion on this one.”

“Fair enough.”

After a twenty-minute drive, we pulled off the highway into Northgate, a suburb popular with paranormal practitioners and university students. We parked in front of an older townhouse, not old enough to qualify as heritage but old enough to be a place your parents grew up in. From the chip-rock covered walls, cement porch with black wrought iron railing and yellowed grass, I guessed rental. The other homes on the block had been renovated and were surrounded with manicured gardens.

I also noted that the cops were gone or really well hidden.

Before I got out of the car, I took a deep breath and discreetly tapped the barrier, pulling in only enough Otherside to see with. Better to get it over now while I was still sitting down. To my relief, the nausea wasn’t too bad. I stepped out of the car. I spotted nothing strange in the front yard or porch. No barriers, no symbols—just a normal-looking house. I let Sarah go through the front door first, then followed.

The front hallway looked completely normal. No sign of Aaron, either. Might be canvassing neighbours or out back.

“Knock yourself out,” Sarah said as I began to look around.

I saw no lingering Otherside bindings or binding paraphernalia. In the kitchen I pulled open the cupboards to see if there was anything stashed out of sight. I even checked for sage in the spice cupboard. Nope.

The bathroom was plain, painted white, with a grey and black raindrop shower curtain. The mirror wasn’t set. I checked the last room off the hall, which was the bedroom. A double bed, with decent box-store sheets and duvet. The antique dresser was the only piece out of place in the modern decor, but its mirror was normal. Propped on it was a picture of a woman with short brown hair. I imagined it was the victim, Rachel McCay.

I headed back out into the hall. Sarah was leaning against the front door, regarding me patiently.

“So the victim lived here?” I asked.

Sarah nodded.

“And you’re
sure
she was a practitioner? Not someone who just dabbled?”

She nodded again.

I chewed my lip and stared around me. It wasn’t outside the box for practitioners to hide their work stuff, especially if they had family, friends or landlords who disapproved. So maybe there was another room here. A hidden closet, part of the basement? Unless…

Pulling a globe and stuffing the resulting headache, I scanned the hallway ceiling. Bingo. I caught the corner edges of the wards before I saw the blurred outline of an attic door. A barrier, but more basic
than the one at Marjorie’s. This barrier only caused the Otherside to bend the light, encouraging your eyes to register the attic door edges as cracks in the ceiling. After a few seconds of searching, I found the latch release recessed into the wall, also warded. I pulled it and had to dodge out of the way as a set of stairs dropped down.

Sarah had a wide grin on her face and was already on the phone. “She found it,” she said.

A moment later Aaron stepped in from the backyard. He gave me a quick nod before glancing up at the attic. “I’ve been searching outside for a way to a basement or root cellar for an hour now.”

I crossed my arms. “So yet again I pass the is-she-or-isn’t-she-a-real-practitioner test. Either of you want to fill me in?”

Aaron stepped past me to test the stairs. “Our victim was found in the backyard. We confirmed she was involved in the paranormal community, but when we searched the house, there was no sign of any paraphernalia. Remember the White case last winter?”

Unfortunately, I did. A hobby practitioner named Simon White tried teaching himself zombie raising off a website. Hadn’t gone well for the test subject, especially when White decided the bindings weren’t working so he should carve them in with a knife. The instructional DVD he’d ordered had glossed over the section where your zombie was supposed to be dead
first
. The DVD had done a much better job instructing White how to hide the evidence in a drawer using Otherside, which is where we found the knife and DVD.

Aaron started climbing.

“We’re hoping whatever’s up here will tell us why our victim was killed,” Sarah said.

I followed him up the stairs, Sarah behind me.

The attic was little more than a crawl space for hiding boxes, of which there were plenty. Thick black marker designated them as kitchen supplies, books or other. There was one with
Christmas
written across the side, in red and green. Cute. The things you can learn about a person by rifling through their stuff.

My headache was getting worse, but I managed to hold my globe as I scanned the attic. I was starting to think it was a bust when I caught
an edge of Otherside trailing out of a small open box, only big enough to store a handful of paperbacks. “The corner,” I said, and pointed.

Aaron was closest, so he was the one who picked it up and peered inside.

“Well?” Sarah said after a few seconds had passed.

Aaron tilted the box so we could both see the contents. “Books, incense, one china marker, a mirror and this,” he said, pointing to a stick of bound sage.

“Let me see,” I said, motioning for Aaron to bring me the box while Sarah passed me a pair of latex gloves.

Rachel had had a decent basic Otherside binding text and two others on contacting ghosts, but nothing special. The mirror was set, and I checked the bindings on it. Simple, clean, nice work. I flipped it over and noted a red stamp on the back naming the store where it had been purchased: the Pike Market paranormal shop. Besides the fact that she’d overpaid, there was nothing strange about that. There was also nothing about Jinn or references to ancient Arabic bindings. Not even a history of the practitioner’s art.

I looked up at Aaron. “Nothing out of the ordinary and nothing that would link her to Marjorie. The texts are basic, the mirror is good. She was a decent practitioner.” I handed him the box. “All this says is she knew what she was doing.”

Sarah and Aaron exchanged a glance, and all of a sudden the attic felt claustrophobic.

“You said she was found outside. Can I have a look?”

Another glance between them.

“Trust me, if you think this is connected to the zombie murder, you want me to take a look.”

Sarah broke out in a smile. “God, do I miss working with someone who knows what the fuck they’re doing. Lead the way, Kincaid.”

My globe started to waver partway down the stairs. I held it in place but slipped on one of the rungs. Aaron caught my arm before I could slide the rest of the way and land on my ass.

When we were all at the bottom, Sarah frowned at me. “Take a
break, Kincaid. I’ve got to make a couple calls.” She nodded at Aaron. “I’ll meet you two out back.”

Sarah went out to the front porch while I leaned against the wall. My headache was worse, but I couldn’t let my globe down. If I did, I knew I wouldn’t be able to tap the Otherside for hours.

Aaron waited until Sarah closed the front door behind her. “Kincaid, what is going on?”

I remembered I hadn’t had a chance to tell Aaron about what I’d found at Marjorie’s since Lee had given me the okay. “Sorry, Aaron. I forgot I hadn’t told you about the partial bindings I found at Marjorie’s. I need to see where this victim was killed. If it’s the same perpetrator, there’ll be distinct traces of Otherside left—”

Aaron shook his head. “No, not that. What the hell is going on with
you
?” He cupped my chin gently and studied my face the way he’d done at my apartment. “You look worse than you did yesterday. It’s not just lack of sleep, is it?”

“I had a few later nights than normal. It’d make anyone look bad.”

“I was right, wasn’t I? You are having trouble with the Otherside.”

I ducked around him into the kitchen, but he still made it to the screen door first, blocking my exit to the backyard. “What happened?”

My first instinct was to yell at him to get out of the way, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s when you’re caught—really caught—there’s no sense trying to lie your way out.

“I may have been using too much Otherside lately. So I’m only using it when I have to. And don’t worry—as soon as this is over, I’m taking a break.”

Aaron didn’t look convinced, and he didn’t move out of my way. “You’re talking about Otherside hangovers?” When I didn’t respond, he added, “Kincaid, you only ever used to get those when you were really overbooked, once every few months maybe.”

Wait…what? It hadn’t been that infrequently, had it?

“How often are you getting them now?”

Try every time I tapped the Otherside. “Aaron, it’s not a big deal, I’m just stretched a little thin. I’m going to fix it.”

“ ‘Going to fix it’ is not the same as fixing it, Kincaid. How long has this been going on?”

I sighed. I knew this interrogator side of Aaron well. If I didn’t answer, I’d never hear the end of it….

“Just a week or two.
Honest
,” I added when he didn’t let up the scrutiny. If Lee had a suspect in her sights, it couldn’t take longer than that, could it?

Aaron shook his head but held the screen door open for me. “You’re the paranormal expert, not me.”

I stepped past him into the backyard. Technically this was a win, but it sure didn’t feel like one. Worry about it later, Kincaid.

The backyard turned out to be an improvement over the front. Bordered on all three sides by a wood fence tall enough to keep prying neighbours from prying, it was a private oasis. In the centre was a decent-sized cherry tree whose limbs formed a canopy over most of the backyard. Three large winding flower beds helped mould a path out of the bright green grass. There it was. I strode over to the closest bed and picked some fresh sage, holding it up for Aaron.

“I thought it had to be dried?”

I shook my head. “Old wives’ tale. Just easier to buy and store it that way. So where was she killed?”

“You tell me.”

I sighed and scanned the garden through my globe. I was about to give up when I caught the first trace of shrapnel on the trunk of the cherry tree. I pulled more Otherside into my globe to get a better look and bit back another wave of nausea. I squatted to study the trunk.

Sheared pieces of Otherside covered the tree’s north side, which was facing away from the house. I stood and took a step back, extending my search to the grass and tree branches. More Otherside traces filtered into view, like splatters from a paint bomb. Just like at Marjorie’s.

“She was found here, wasn’t she?” I said to Aaron, pointing.

“How do you know?” Aaron said.

“Remember I said I found something at Marjorie’s? Well, the same kind of thing is here. It looks as if someone played Otherside
paintball with the tree and the tree lost. Marjorie’s shop was covered with the same kind of splatter.”

I motioned for him to bring my backpack to me. “Here,” I said, “I’ll show you.” I pulled out the map I’d made of Marjorie’s and laid it out for him on the grass. “Most of what’s here is just shrapnel, but there are a few pieces that were intact.” I pointed them out.

Aaron’s phone rang, and when I glanced at him, he was staring at it as it continued to ring. Captain, I was guessing.

“Look, Aaron, take the call. I’ll come get you if I find something.” I pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and started to sketch the shrapnel on the tree. What I wouldn’t give for a camera that could capture Otherside.