A Ghoul's Guide to Love and Murder (4 page)

Heath glared hard at him. “
Mrs.
Whitefeather,” he said angrily. “And I'll thank you to speak respectfully to my wife.”

My breath caught. I'd had every intention of keeping our marriage under wraps until after Gilley's wedding, but Heath and I had gotten so used to calling each other Mr. and Mrs. that of course it rolled easily off his tongue. The excited murmuring around us ratcheted up another notch. “Ohmigod! Did you hear that?! They got married! M.J. and Heath got married!”

I wanted to groan. There'd be no keeping the news from Gilley now. But speaking of Gilley, I started to wonder where that little—

“You're married?!”
came a shrieking voice.

The crowd fell silent. Then it parted to let through my oldest and dearest friend. Who looked ready to murder
me
. Raising both fists above his head, Gilley fell to his knees and shouted,
“Why, God, why?”

“Great,” I muttered. “Could this day get any worse?”

And then the lights went out and the place was plunged into darkness.

Screams erupted all around us—the loudest of which I recognized as Gilley's. I waited for someone to turn the light on from his or her cell phone, but among all the frightened screams, there were other
shouts from people claiming that their phones were dead.

As I fumbled for my own phone, Heath grabbed my hand and pulled me to him, and together we carefully wove through the crush of rushing bodies toward Oruç's dagger, which had to be responsible, because it was the only thing powerful enough in the room to douse the lights and drain every single phone. Well, save mine.

I slid my finger across the surface of the phone, and it lit up—the only light in the dark room. A wave of relief washed over me, until I realized that I held
the only light in the room
.

A mass of footsteps from all around us rushed straight for me, like moths to a flame. I shut off the phone fast, and Heath pulled me sharply to the right and off the track we'd been on, which was wise, because a lady I'd just been standing next to appeared to be suddenly swarmed by people. “Get off me! Get off me!” she cried.

“Turn on your phone again!” someone else shouted. “Dammit! Turn it on!”

Heath maneuvered through the crowd, which was working itself up into a frenzy of fear. The energy was insane, and I could feel the vibrations of intense alarm and mounting panic bouncing around us as people tried to figure out where they were in relation to the exit. “We have to get out!” many shouted. “Where's the door? How do we get out of here?”

The fog from the dry ice machine wasn't helping matters, because what feeble light did trickle in from
the hallway was obscured by the fog that was getting kicked up by people rushing around the room.

I also found it a little odd that at least some people weren't finding the situation humorous—the way some individuals can move through a staged Halloween haunted house and find it funny. There didn't seem to be anyone within hearing distance of me who thought the whole thing was a publicity stunt—
everyone
was scared, and I do mean petrified.

“Are we close?” I called to Heath, who was still pulling on my arm.

“I think so!” he called back to me, using his shoulder to push aside someone who, in his panic, was trying to get between us. Abruptly, Heath stopped and I nearly bumped into the back of him. “It's here,” he said, and I felt around a little with my free hand and found a velvet rope near my waist. I then heard a clicking sound and the rope fell to the floor. Heath guided me forward and then my hands were on the glass case that housed the dagger. I could feel a wave of the foulest energy waft over me, and then, all of a sudden, it was gone and all the lights came back on.

I blinked in the sudden brightness and the nearly immediate shocked silence that rippled through the crowd. People had frozen in place when the lights came on—many were clinging to each other in fear. One poor soul had soiled his pants, and he was the first to bolt out of the exit. Many of what remained of the crowd followed. Hastily.

Turning my attention back to the dagger, I tried to lift the glass housing it, but it wouldn't budge. I then
scanned the crowd for any sign of Gilley, as I was hoping he'd know how to get into the display, but he was nowhere in sight. Frustrated, I dug into my vest and pulled out a few extra magnets, placing them directly on the metal podium that held the glass case and the dagger. They stuck there nicely, and while I could tell that there were a whole lot of other magnets already placed there, my four extra certainly couldn't hurt.

“Do you see Gilley?” I asked Heath, who was also scanning the crowd.

“No,” he said. “I think he might've made it to the door and out.”

I stepped away from the display and looked at the dispersing crowd anxiously. I wasn't leaving without the dagger, and Gil was the key to getting the glass case unlocked. More scanning of the crowd failed to reveal my best friend, but Phil Sullivan and Murdock were still in attendance. They both appeared quite shaken by the ordeal. But then Phil's petulant expression returned and he stalked over to us. “I'm going to call the studio and complain,” he told me with a snarl. “Maybe they can't fire you for pulling a stunt like this, but I hope they fine you or withhold some of your royalty checks. And then I'm gonna call the police and see if they can issue you a citation!”

“Wait,” I said. “You think
we
did this?”

Phil pulled up his own smartphone and eyed it with irritation. “I don't know how you managed to drain everybody's phones, but I'm not in the mood for stupid
stunts like this. There're laws against inciting a panicked riot like this, you know!”

“Mr. Sullivan,” I said firmly, my voice rising, “we didn't have anything to do with this. Not us and not the studio.”

“Then who did?” he demanded, his face flushing yet another time.

Next to me, Heath pointed to the glass case holding Oruç's dagger. “I'm guessing the ghost and his demon, housed inside that dagger, are flexing their collective muscle.”

I glanced around the room. There were magnetic spikes everywhere.
“How
did they get through the field created by all the spikes?”

Heath shook his head, his expression grave. “Don't know. But it's something to worry about, Em.”

I turned back to Sullivan. “We need that dagger back,” I said. “And we need it now.”

If Oruç was simply giving us a demonstration of how easily he could get through the magnetic field in the room, then I was worried indeed.

Sullivan glared at me, then turned to Murdock. “Charlie, throw these two outta here, and if they come back, call the police.”

Murdock stepped forward and squared his shoulders, and my husband did the same. For a moment it looked like things were about to get physical, but then two other security guards rushed into the room and even Heath knew he stood no chance. Still, when they surrounded us and made it clear they weren't averse to getting rough with us should we resist, Heath
managed to stare one of them down enough that the guy took a step back.

“We'll call Gopher,” I whispered to Heath. “He's got to be able to use his clout to help us get the dagger back.”

“Yeah, but how long will that take?” Heath said, looking over his shoulder at Oruç's dagger.

“Hopefully, not long,” I said, and crossed my fingers. “He knows full well how dangerous that dagger is. He'll help us get it back.”

We made it out of the building behind a stream of shaken pedestrians. All anybody was talking about was the ghostbuster exhibit and how freaky and frightening it had been. It was also surprising to see how many people were really upset about their phones being dead—of course this was a regular occurrence in our ghostbusting world, but to those folks so used to having a charge on their phones to accompany them throughout their day, it was shocking and upsetting to them on a level I barely understood.

We found Gilley in his new car, crying big wet tears. I rapped on the window and he shrieked. “
Don't
do that!” he shouted at me before he rolled down the window.

“We need to talk,” I said sternly. I was in no mood for Gilley's bullshit. “My condo. Thirty minutes. Be there, or I'm going to hunt you down, Gillespie.”

Gil bit his lip. I almost never called him by his last name, so he knew I meant business. He nodded meekly and I grabbed Heath's hand to head toward the parking garage, more furious with Gilley than I could ever
remember. And given how difficult my best friend could be, that was saying something.

•   •   •

Gil actually beat us to the condo. I figured he might've headed to his own unit ahead of us, which was only down one flight of stairs from mine, but he stood in front of my door dutifully and didn't mutter a peep as Heath unlocked the door to let us all in.

Doc—my African grey parrot—welcomed us with “Hi, birdie!” I walked over to him and kissed him on the head. He was such a sweet birdie. I'd had him since I was a little girl, and I treasured and adored him like my own child. I figured that standing close to him would keep me from erupting, which I was damned near close to.

“What the hell were you thinking?”
my husband roared the moment Gilley took a seat on the sofa. I should add here that he wasn't standing anywhere close to the birdie. “That dagger is the most dangerous relic in New England and
you
think it's okay to put it on display?! Seriously, Gil . . .
what the hell
?!”

“I only loaned it to them for two weeks!” Gil replied. “Heath, it's still completely surrounded by magnets, and I personally inspected the exhibit to make sure no one could steal it or get too close to it, and I ensured that it'd be in the center of a magnetic field so powerful that there was no
way
Oruç or his demon could get out. I swear to you I followed every protocol, took every precaution, made every attempt to keep that thing in check before I even considered bringing the
dagger to the museum! Oruç and his demon should
not
have been able to do that!”

Heath stared at Gilley like he didn't even know him. Shaking his head as if he still couldn't fathom Gilley's insanely stupid decision, he said, “But that doesn't tell me why, Gil.
Why
did you loan it out? Of all the things to hand over to the public, why the dagger?”

Gil's eyes misted and he began to cry again. I knew he hated being yelled at like that, but I had little sympathy for him. “It was the studio's idea,” he said. “One of the producers called me, and he said that he'd seen photos of the exhibit before it opened up to the public, and the studio heads thought it was a little boring. He said that we needed something big to draw in the crowds, and that he'd heard about the dagger from Gopher and had gotten the okay from him to ask M.J. about it.”

My brow furrowed. “No producer ever called me about the dagger,” I snapped.

“Yeah, I know,” Gil said. “And that's because, before you left on your trip, you told me not to give out your location or phone numbers to
anyone
. And you told me not to call you unless somebody was on fire or dead. So, I made the executive decision to handle it myself.”

I shook my head. “Oh, cut the crap, Gil! You didn't call us because you knew I'd say no!”

Gilley picked at a thread on the seam of his jeans. “Well that may have had something to do with it,” he admitted.

I shook my head, so angry I could have actually punched him. “Why?!” I demanded.

Gilley sighed and he seemed full of regret. “The studio threw a lot of money at me and I caved,” he admitted. Looking up at me, he added, “Seriously, M.J., the money was too good to turn down.”

“You don't need any more money!” I yelled. “Gil, you were already paid handsomely for the movie, and there are more box office royalties to come!”

Gil's expression shifted to something a little closer to petulance. “First of all, Michel and I received a
lot
less than you and Heath. You guys got the biggest piece of the pie by far. And before you start yelling at me again, yes, that still meant that we got a really nice check,
but
weddings are expensive, M.J.! Between the caterer, the venue, the photographer, and the DJ, it's a ridiculous amount of money! And that's before the down payment on the new apartment in Manhat—” Gilley suddenly covered his mouth with his hand and shook his head as if he'd just let out a huge secret. Which, of course he had.

“New apartment?” I said, jumping on the admission. “New
Manhattan
apartment, Gil?”

Gil dropped his hand and went back to staring at his lap. “We were going to tell you when Michel got back from the shoot in New York,” he said.

A lump formed in my throat. Even though Heath and I were heading to Santa Fe sometime in the next few months, somehow, having Gilley announce his move first both stunned and deeply hurt me. “Ah,” I said, blinking hard to fight back tears. “I see.”

Gilley shook his head sadly, and when he spoke his voice hitched with emotion. “It's Michel's job,” he said.
“All the best-paying photography gigs are in New York, and he's starting to be requested by some of the top magazines. We just feel he'll get a real shot at having his career take off if he's closer to their offices.”

To hear Gilley tell me that he was leaving me—it went right to my heart. I'd never lived farther than ten minutes from him since I was eleven years old. And as frustrating, aggravating, annoying, and infuriating as Gil could be, he was still family to me. It hit me all of a sudden that I could never simply just walk down the stairs to have breakfast with him again. Or watch old movies with him on Sunday. Or be wined and dined at one of his fabulous dinner parties. I'd have to fly clear across the country to see him, and we'd probably do that quite a bit for a few years, fly back and forth to see each other, but then our lives would go in different directions and we'd see less and less of each other.