Vendetta (Deadly Curiosities Book 2) (10 page)

I headed back to Trifles and Folly, glad to be free of the beaded skull. My tote felt lighter without it, and I felt a psychic burden lift as well. Then I remembered that we still had not freed Tad’s spirit from the hair necklace, and I hoped that Father Anne would be able to send him on his way. Although Tad seemed resigned to being adrift in the world of the living, I had no desire to see him become a casualty in what was looking like it would be a nasty fight. And while Tad was already dead, I had seen enough to know that there were fates much worse than lack of a pulse.

I was deep in thought, and stumbled over the Ghost Bike. The mangled bike had been painted white as a memorial to a fallen cyclist and chained to a light post close to the scene of the accident. The newspaper had dubbed such memorials ‘Ghost Bikes’, and they had been popping up all over town in the last several months. They reminded me of the roadside shrines grieving families put up by the side of the highway to commemorate the site of a fatal wreck. And just like with the homemade shrines, I felt a jolt of otherworldly energy as my leg brushed the bike’s painted tire.

“Yikes!” I yelped, less because I had nearly fallen than because I was unprepared for the vision that came with the physical contact.

A bump beneath the front wheel, the blare of a car horn, too close and coming up too fast. Frantically struggling to regain control, then falling and impact… and then, something evil in the darkness, hungry and relentless.
In the next instant, I saw the darkness overwhelm the cyclist’s hapless ghost, consuming his flickering light until nothing remained.

“Hey lady, are you all right?” A man in the coveralls of a local lawn service peered at me with concern. I realized I was steadying myself against the lamp post, trying to catch my breath.

“I’m fine,” I said sheepishly. “I stumbled and almost fell – must have caught my toe on something.”

“You might want to sit down. You’re pale as a ghost.”

Not quite,
I thought. “Thanks. I just needed to catch my breath.” The man went on his way, and I took another moment to steady myself. I glanced back at the Ghost Bike, and saw a small laminated card with the name of the dead cyclist and the date of the fatal accident, along with a short description of what had happened. And while I knew that the bikes that were painted and used for the memorials weren’t always the actual bikes from the accidents, I wondered if the people creating the shrines realized that at least in some cases, spirits that did not move on attached themselves to the bikes.

When I got back to the shop, I found a sign on the door that said ‘Back in fifteen minutes’ and the door itself was locked. Worried, I unlocked the door and stepped inside, locking it behind me.

“Teag? Maggie? What’s up?”

“We’re back here, Cassidy,” Teag replied, and I could hear the worry in his voice. I headed for the back, and found Maggie seated in one of the chairs at our break room table looking much the worse for wear. She had a bloody gash on one side of her head, and blood marked her face and shirt. Maggie held a plastic bag full of ice against a rapidly-growing bruise that looked likely to become a goose egg. She also had her left leg propped up on a chair with a swelling ankle and more ice.

“What happened?” I asked.

“I went next door to take the newest batch of fountain pens over to Craig Murdoch,” she said. Teag and I knew Craig fairly well. He was the owner of Deckle Edge Bookstore, my favorite place in Charleston to look for out-of-print copies of special books. We gave Craig first dibs when we got in boxes of old books from an auction or estate sale, and he had a standing order for whatever beautiful vintage Parker and Waterman pens we acquired.

“Did you fall?” I couldn’t imagine what could have happened to Maggie between here and the next store. “Please don’t tell me that someone mugged you!”

Maggie started to shake her head, then swallowed hard at the discomfort and reconsidered. “Craig loved the pens. But everything was higgledy-piggeldy in the shop because he was bringing out his seasonal books. He and that new assistant of his were also putting up some fall decorations, and I volunteered to help bring a load of garlands and plastic pumpkins up from the basement.”

Uh-oh.
“And then what?” I asked, although I was afraid I could guess.

“Craig sent Jonathan ahead and asked him to show me where the pumpkins were stored. You know what their basement stairs look like – the shop is very similar to Trifles and Folly. Ten steps down at the most, into a big room with a few support beams.”

Except that ours also had a locked safe-room where a vampire could spend the day in an emergency
. That was a feature only Teag, Sorren, and I knew about.

“Jonathan was three steps ahead of me,” Maggie continued. “The lights were on. Craig was right behind me. But then – and you’re not going to believe me – Jonathan started to disappear. He kept on walking, but I couldn’t see his legs. And before I could say anything, he was gone completely. And I was falling – it felt as if someone had pushed me square in the chest.”

“Just gone?”

Maggie met my gaze. “I know it sounds crazy. Craig saw – or rather, didn’t see – the same thing. One instant, Jonathan was in front of me, and the next he was gone.”

“You searched the cellar?” I couldn’t imagine how someone could have pulled off such a prank, but it was worth exhausting the mundane explanations before assuming a supernatural attack.

“Craig did. I was nearly knocked cold,” Maggie replied. “Whatever took Jonathan pushed me so hard I fell. There are a few moments I don’t completely remember, except that something really scary and strange was happening and I didn’t dare fall forward.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” I said with heartfelt relief. I had met Craig’s new assistant, and Maggie’s account made my skin prickle with fear for his safety. “What then?”

“Craig helped me back up the steps, and then he went back to the basement. I wouldn’t have gone back down those steps for a million dollars, but this time, Craig went down just fine. Said the basement was just how it always was. But there was no trace of Jonathan.”

“Wow,” I replied, exchanging a meaningful glance with Teag.

“Craig tried calling and texting Jonathan’s cell phone, but he didn’t get an answer.” She paused. “Funny thing – we thought we heard the phone ring a couple of times, then nothing. But there was no one around, and we didn’t find the phone.”

“What’s Craig going to do?” Teag asked.

“He was beside himself. You can imagine. But how can you call the police about it? Can you imagine what they’d say if he tried to tell them someone disappeared on his way down the basement stairs?”

A few weeks ago, her skepticism would have been dead on. Now, I was betting Craig would be surprised to find out the police might take his report more seriously than he imagined.

“Was there any reason Jonathan might have had to run away?” I asked. Not all employees are trustworthy. I wondered if Craig might find the till short a few hundred – or thousand – dollars, or some items missing from stock.

“Jonathan hadn’t mentioned any personal problems, and Craig said there weren’t any issues with his performance, but he told me he would double check to make sure nothing was gone.” Maggie sighed. “I really liked Jonathan. He was good with customers, and he was just getting his life back together.”

A warning prickled down my spine. “What do you mean?”

Maggie’s face grew pink. “I shouldn’t have said anything. But I guess it will come out, if Jonathan really is missing. He hadn’t been in Charleston long. Moved here from Upstate, near Columbia, after he’d had a bit of trouble. Got accused of vehicular manslaughter because a drunk wandered out in front of his car, but he was acquitted. Poor fellow.”

“Why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon off?” I suggested. “Teag can drive you home.”

Teag looked at me. “Are you sure you’ll be all right while I’m gone?”

I nodded. “Sure thing. But I promise you – I won’t go near the basement.”

Teag hesitated. “Check your voice mail. Sorren left a message that he had to go out of town unexpectedly – said we were to be careful.”

I wondered if that meant more problems in Boston. With the wards Lucinda had set around the shop, I was pretty sure we would be safe in the store, but I wasn’t about to push my luck. I was worried about Maggie. I was worried about Sorren. And right now, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about any of it. So I poured myself a cup of coffee and flipped the sign in the window, figuring that chatting with some tourists with money to spend might take my mind off things.

It wasn’t long before a big man in a leather jacket and more scars than a cage fighter walked into Trifles and Folly. He just didn’t seem to be the type to be shopping for antiques.

“I’m looking for Sorren,” the man said abruptly. His voice was rough, and I bet he liked his whiskey straight.

“Excuse me?”

This guy was easily over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and muscles that didn’t come from the gym. He had scars on his hands from fights and a scar on his neck that looked like someone had tried and failed to slit his throat. A particularly ugly scar marred his face.

“I believed the hippie when she said she didn’t know, but I don’t believe you,” he replied. His voice wasn’t implying a threat – so far – but his light blue eyes had a killer’s coldness to them.

“You need to leave.” If the best defense is a good offense, I intended to start offending. Charleston prides itself on manners, but it also has a reputation for starting fights (big ones, like the Civil War) and finishing what gets started. And right now, he’d gotten my back up.

“Tell Sorren that Daniel’s in town. Tell him I’m watching the Watcher.”

“Daniel who?”

His smile revealed a mouthful of teeth that looked like they had been rearranged a few times, and not by a dentist. “Daniel Hunter. He’ll remember me.” His smile froze into something more like a grimace. “Sorry about your uncle. He should have gotten out of the game sooner. I hope you know what you’re doing, taking over for him.”

That did it. “Get out,” I said. “Get the hell out, and stay out.” I felt a tingle as the dog collar on my left wrist jangled, and then a low, angry growl filled the air. The big man looked surprised, then annoyed when he saw the glowing shape of a large dog with its spectral teeth bared, but he backed up mighty quickly when that ghost-dog took a step toward him, head lowered, ready to leap.

“I said, get the hell out of my shop.”

Daniel Hunter gave me a baleful look, glanced back at the angry dog, and headed for the door. “Just tell Sorren. He’d better watch out. And you’d best watch out, too.” With that, he walked out of the door, but I noticed that he never turned his back on Bo’s ghost. When the door slammed shut, the ghost dog looked over at me, wagged his tail, and vanished.

I sat down on the stool behind the counter and took a long, shaky breath. Sure, I had faced down some pretty nasty supernatural threats with Sorren and Teag. I trained in martial arts with Teag, and while he was good enough to have won several championships in both Filipino and Brazilian styles of combat, I could hold my own. That didn’t mean I relished a fight, not with a bad nasty from beyond, or from a big bruiser who seemed to think he could push me around.

I replayed what Daniel had said. His delivery had been flat, and his manner was menacing. But had he meant it as a threat, or a warning? And was ‘Hunter’ really his last name, or his job? No way to tell. I pulled out my phone and texted Sorren, giving him a quick recap. He definitely needed to bring me up to speed on this whole situation – and Teag, too. I don’t mind putting my life on the line to keep Charleston, and the world, safe. But I do need to understand what I’m fighting. So the next time I saw Sorren, he was going to get a tart piece of my mind.

F
OR ONCE,
I was happy that we didn’t get any more customers that afternoon at Trifles and Folly. By the time Teag got back from settling Maggie safely at her house, it was time to close up.

“I’m meeting Anthony for dinner,” Teag said with a smile. “He’s working on that big case, so we have to grab time together when we can. Otherwise, we don’t cross paths even though we’re in the same house.” I wished them well. My last boyfriend had kept a similarly crazy schedule as an emergency room doctor, and coupled with my odd hours with the Alliance, which I couldn’t talk about, things didn’t go smoothly. Maybe someday.