Flight from Mayhem (5 page)

“I'm going to find help. I'll be back. And we'll do our best to get someone in here who knows what they're doing when it comes to ghosts.”

And with that, I headed toward the front door, wondering just how I was going to keep my promise. I might not be an exorcist, and I sure as hell wasn't a miracle worker, but I was stubborn and I was a dragon. It wasn't in my nature to let anybody else win out over me. Mary laughed behind me, a light, musical note that stuck in my memory long after I shut the door behind me and returned to my own house.

I
t occurred to
me that Stacy—one of the few friends I had made in Seattle—might want to move in across the street, but then I shut that idea down real fast. For one thing, she already had a house that had been in her family for some time. For another, Stacy lived with her mother, who was disabled and unable to work, and she also helped provide for her little brother. The last thing she needed in her life were spooks and spirits. In fact, we had been supposed to get together for breakfast the next day, but when I got home from Mary's house, there was a message on my answering machine from her begging off due to a cold.

I let out a sigh. “Damn it.” I really liked Stacy. She was one of the few humans who knew I was a dragon. After the first “Oh, shit,” she had shrugged it off and that was that.

I told Chai about what had happened at the house. “You don't want to live over there, do you?” I leaned forward, a hopeful look plastered on my face.

He stared at me for a moment. “Seriously? You are
seriously asking me that?” With a snort, he added, “Thank you very much, but I'm not interested in fending off nasty spirits. Although I admit, living in this area, we're bound to run into them.” He paused, then softly said, “You know who would be perfect for the house? Tonya.”

Tonya Harris was a witch we had met while up in Port Townsend on a case. But she had a shop up there, and that was her home. “I doubt she's going to move down here to set up business.” But the thought had lodged itself in the back of my mind and I found myself turning it over as I showered again before getting dressed for my lunch with Bette and Marlene.

I glanced out the window. The sky was overcast and it looked like rain. Which meant something that wouldn't plaster itself to my body if I got caught in a sudden downpour. I picked a simple V-neck sweater and a pair of black jeans, then slid a pale blue Windbreaker over the top. As I zipped it up and grabbed my purse, Chai cocked his head to one side.

“Have fun. I might meander across the street and meet Mary myself.”

I paused. He sounded like a man with a plan. Or should I say, a djinn with a plan? “Just don't be rude. She's perfectly nice and I don't want her run out of here. Not that I think you could—she seems to be trapped. I think that whoever . . .
whatever . . .
that shadow was has her pinned in there.”

Chai squinted, shading his eyes with his hands as he stared at the house across the street. “I'm not fond of those who imprison others.” The cryptic note in his voice made me leery, but I decided to leave well enough alone. Bette would be by in a few minutes to pick me up for the lunch with Marlene. I headed out on the porch to wait.

As I stood there, staring quietly at Mary's house, I found myself thinking about Chai's idea. True, Tonya did have a home and a life in Port Townsend, but I could easily see her in this house, bringing it back to life with her witchy ways.

At that moment, Bette pulled up in her 1967 Chevy Impala. She had tricked it out as a lowrider, and I half expected the cops to stop us every time I rode with her. I dashed down the steps as a flurry of raindrops let loose, spattering against the sidewalk. I darted between them, yanking open the passenger door as I slipped inside the car.

Bette was chain-smoking, as usual, and she winked at me. “How's it hanging, girl?”

I fastened my seat belt—no sane person rode anywhere with Bette without a seat belt—and let out a long sigh. “Weird. That's how it's going.” As we headed toward the restaurant, I told her what had happened in Mary's house.

She snorted. “You have to be careful with ghosts. Never can tell what they're up to, and half the time they aren't what you think they are. My bets are on Mary to be in cahoots with the shadow creature. Then again, I could be wrong. I knew a wonderful spirit years back—named Connie. She had been killed in a car wreck back in New York, when Alex and I first came to America. That was when cars weren't as safe as they are now.”

As she spoke, she swerved to miss a garbage truck backing out of an alley. I grimaced, clutching the door handle, but she didn't seem to notice.

“Oh yeah, what happened?”

“She went off the road and plowed into a brick wall. She'd been at a speakeasy. We arrived the year that Prohibition ended, but we were here for a few heated months before the law was repealed. Anyway, she had enough bathtub gin in her to drown a sailor. Connie was our neighbor. I remember going outside that night—it was sweltering in the city during the summer. No A/C back then. Anyway, so she came lurching up the sidewalk, bloody and roughed up. I ran out to help her, only to realize she was already dead. Her spirit hung around for quite a while after that, but her ghost always seemed a bit giddy, like the gin had never quite worn off.”

I stared at Bette. A
drunk
ghost? “You have some of the weirdest stories, woman.”

“You haven't heard the half of them. Not yet.”

“Why don't you buy the house across the street? You'd be a fun neighbor and I can't see any ghost getting one up on you.” I was only half-joking. Bette would make an awesome neighbor.

But she shook her head. “No, girl. I love my houseboat and there's no way in hell you're getting me to live on dry land. I tried that with Alex and it never worked. We were roommates when we first arrived over here on the West Coast, though our relationship was dead and over in terms of any hanky-panky.”

I smiled softly. The pair were the best of friends. That was one reason Glenda had broken up with Alex. She insisted he give up his friendship with Bette and there was no way in hell that would ever happen. I was glad that he had stood his ground. Anybody who would give up a friendship that had lasted over a hundred years for a bitchy girlfriend—or boyfriend—wasn't the kind of lover I wanted to be involved with.

“I'm not Glenda. You don't ever have to reassure me, Bette.” I spoke softly, but she caught the nuance.

She gave me a sideways glance as we turned into a parking lot by a Bonnie's—a chain diner endemic to the Pacific Northwest that had recently sprung up everywhere. The cigarette was ready to fall off her lip, but she somehow managed to keep hold of it for a final puff before stabbing it out in the ashtray. “Shimmer, you're a good girl. Don't even start with the ‘I'm a dragon' bit. I'm older than you are, so don't even go there.”

I wasn't sure how old I was. Dragons had long, long lives—well longer than the Fae, for the most part, but she was right in that I was young for my kind. I had probably wandered the Dragon Reaches for a couple of thousands of
years, Earthside years that is, but I was still new to the world in comparison to most of my Dragonkin brethren.

“I just never want you to worry. I have no idea what will happen with Alex and me—we're still testing the waters in our relationship, and frankly, I'm skittish enough to want to take it slow. Hell, if Glenda weren't such a bitch and she wanted to still be friends with him, I wouldn't care.”

I pushed open my door and swung out into what was now a downpour. As Bette and I hustled inside, I noticed she was wearing a new zebra-print pair of stretch pants, along with a sparkling black sequined top. Her leather jacket hung open over the top, and her hobo bag was as big as a backpack. Given I knew she never traveled without her iPad, two packs of cigarettes, a notepad, a water bottle, and a small box of cookies, as well as makeup and every other necessity to womankind, the size of her purse made sense. She was wearing sunglasses and a sheer pink scarf tied under her chin to protect the ever-present bouffant from the rain.

When we were inside, she pulled off her sunglasses and glanced around, frowning. “I don't see Marlene, but that doesn't mean she's not here.” As a waitress came up, Bette told her we were meeting a friend and the girl let us meander around, looking for her. After a few minutes, Bette was satisfied Marlene hadn't arrived yet and so we took a booth near the door so she could easily find us when she arrived.

I opened the menu, though every diner I had been in seemed to serve the same variations in food—Americana spread across the nation. Food guaranteed to be the same wherever you went, so you never had to worry about what you were getting.

“I'll start with a chocolate shake, please. With whipped cream on top?” I had developed a love for the frothy drinks. It didn't matter to me what flavor they were; as long as it was liquid ice cream with whipped cream and a cherry on top, I was happy.

Bette grinned. “You just can't get enough of those, can you?”

I shook my head. In the past week, during our lunch break—which would be a late-night snack for most people—I had ordered a shake with my delivery of whatever else I might want. “You've got me there.”

She ordered coffee and a large cola.

I glanced around. The diner was filled with the lunch crowd. It had been a while since I had eaten out at this time. Usually, by now I was curled up on the sofa, watching TV while I waited to doze off for the few hours I needed to sleep. After the waitress brought our drinks, I frowned and glanced at the clock.

“She knows where to meet us, right?”

“Right. I think I'll give her a call. She might be stuck in traffic.” Bette pulled out her phone and dialed while I sucked down my milkshake. A moment later, she set down her phone, frowning at it. “She's not answering. That's strange. As old world as she can be, Marlene never goes anywhere without her phone.”

“Maybe she's driving and can't answer?” I motioned to the waitress. “Another?”

“No, I think something's wrong.” Bette was usually pretty laid-back, so the frantic tone in her voice set me on alert. She wasn't prone to hysterics.

“Do you want to drop by her place and see if everything is okay?” I called the waitress back. “Make that to go, please.”

Bette nodded. “We'll give it five more minutes, till your shake is ready, and if she hasn't shown up by then, I'd appreciate it if you'd come check things out with me.”

The waitress brought my shake and we paid for our drinks. Bette ordered a dozen doughnuts to go and then we headed back to her car. I stuffed a cinnamon-covered doughnut in my mouth and stuck my shake in the cup holder, next to Bette's refill. As we pulled out of the parking lot, I could
tell that the Melusine was fretting. She might be a tough old broad, but she cared about her friends more than most people cared about their families.

Marlene lived in a house near the arboretum. It was a single-story bungalow, small and cozy and pretty, with a garden that had been allowed to grow gracefully wild. The moment we stepped off the sidewalk and onto the walkway up to the house, a sense of peace flowed over me, like soft silk trailing past. The driveway was empty. If she was home, someone else had her car.

“I can tell one of the Woodland Fae live here.” I kept my voice down—it seemed proper. No shouting, no swearing. This land was tended to by a steward of the planet and unless somebody was as thick as a brick, I had the feeling they wouldn't be able to shake off the feeling of being watched by every tree and bush. As we quietly approached the front door, Bette tensed up. I tried to tune into what she was feeling, but the moment I opened myself up, a deluge of fear and anger swept over me and I let out a cry, dropping to my knees at the sudden assault of emotion.

“Bette!” I winced, rubbing my forehead.

She spun, then crouched down beside me. “Shimmer, what is it? Do you need me to call a doctor?”

I shook my head, trying to drive back the spikes that felt like they were jabbing me from every which way. “I don't know what it is. I was trying to sense whatever I could and . . .”

A soft look of understanding stole over the Melusine. “You've become an empath—I suspected as much last night. I'll bet you've always had the ability, but it never opened itself up before. And now, you're having to come to terms with it. Pull back, girl. Pull those feelers back and it should help some.”

I wasn't sure what she meant, but I tried to do as she suggested and, after a moment, I could think again. But even though I was feeling better, I also knew that something had
happened here. Something to desperately upset the beings who were rooted on this lot.

“Bette, something horrible happened here—and recently. I'm worried about your friend. The trees, the plants, I think they're all upset, though I can't communicate directly with them. If there were a stream or the like running through the area, that would be a different matter.”

Bette frowned and pushed the doorbell. The buzzer rang, a soft hollow chime from inside the house, but nobody was answering. She rang again. Still no answer. With a look at me—I nodded—she tried the door. It was unlocked.

“Do you think we should call the cops?” I hesitated to just barge in. If something had gone wrong, then I didn't want to destroy any evidence.