Ghost of a Chance (16 page)

“Well! While Adam and Karma are busy with
the interviews, why don’t the rest of us do our part to discover
the truth of what happened to Spider?” Savannah said in a bright,
cheerful voice that clashed severely with the darkness outside, the
late hour, and the dead man in the basement.

I stopped, slowly turning to face her.

My father made a wry face. “The truth is
your husband killed him.”

“He did not!” She glared at him for a moment
before her naturally perky nature took over. “I realize things look
bad for Meredith, but you have to trust me when I say that he would
never do anything so heinous. And I can prove he didn’t do it!”

“How?” I asked, my suspicions fired up
again.

She flashed a smile. “It’s simple. We’ll ask
Spider himself.”

“Oh, for god’s sake, you’re not going to
have one of your idiotic séances now, are you?” Meredith called
from the other side of the room.

“Séance?” Pixie asked, pulling out her
iPod’s earbuds. “We’re going to have a séance? Since I can’t have a
ghoul, can I summon a demon?”

Adam gave her a curious look before turning
back to Meredith. I was going to say something, but figured I’d
wait until I was alone with Pixie. Instead, I addressed Savannah.
“I appreciate your desire to clear your husband’s name, but I’m not
sure a séance is the best thing to do right now.”

“Really?” She tipped her head to the side.
“I don’t see why not. If anyone can tell us what happened to him,
it’s Spider.”

I hesitated, weighing my need to have
Meredith pay for his crime and my reluctance to get involved in
something so potentially volatile as a séance. It was impossible to
judge whether Savannah possessed the mediumistic powers needed to
summon a deceased person, let alone control him or her. “Have you
ever conducted a séance before?”

“Oh yes, several times.”

“Have you…” I was tired, so I stopped to
think about how best to ask the question without offending her.
“Have you ever successfully contacted a spirit?”

“Well… not per se. But at one of my séances,
the temperature in the room dropped a full seven degrees, and
everyone there said they felt the presence of something unseen in
the room.”

I relaxed a smidgen despite being the
subject of everyone’s close observation, which left me feeling
slightly itchy and uncomfortable. “I’m sure it was very exciting,
but you know, Savannah, just because Spider’s soul has not been
released yet doesn’t mean his spirit will be willing or even able
to talk to you.”

“But with him so recently deceased… wouldn’t
it be more likely that he will talk to us than if we waited until
after the circumambulation?”

My father snorted and muttered something
about the path to hell being a quick one.

“Not necessarily. Just because his soul is
bound to his body doesn’t mean he will talk to you.”

“It behooves us to try to contact him,”
Savannah said firmly.

“You certainly can try, but you should be
aware that even if you did manage to contact him, he may not yet
realize that he’s really dead. Or he may be confused by the
transition from living to dead. Or he could be…” I stopped for a
minute, not wanting to speak ill of the dead any more than I
had.

“Or he could be just as big a liar dead as
he was alive,” my father finished for me.

I cleared my throat, unwilling to say any
more.

“Well, we won’t know until we talk to him,
will we?” Savannah said, taking a seat at the large round table.
“Everyone, please sit down and join hands.”

My gaze met my father’s. He pursed his lips
as he eyed Savannah for a moment, clearly trying to judge her
abilities. He shook his head slightly before taking a seat at the
table.

Reluctantly, I returned to the cubbyhole,
where Adam was sitting with Meredith. Adam frowned at the food in
my hand.

“Sorry, I haven’t eaten all day. My headache
made sure of that. And speaking of my headaches…” I set down my
coffee and plate, dusted the powdered sugar from my fingers, and
picked up my notebook, fixing Meredith with a stern eye. “Would you
mind telling me a little bit about that machine you gave Spider?
Ever since Adam broke it, my head has been remarkably pain
free.”

“You can’t seriously believe I will tell you
anything about a machine that will make me millions,” he said, his
lips curling with derision.

“I
seriously
believe you will answer
any and all questions put to you,” Adam growled.

“You think you can get away with bullying me
here, but there is going to be hell to pay once the real police
come,” Meredith snarled.

Adam smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant smile, but
it fulfilled its purpose. Meredith’s eyes dilated slightly as Adam
leaned forward and said in a soft voice, “I can arrange it so that
you never see the mortal police, you know. The watch would be quite
happy to deal with a man who has created a machine to destroy
members of the Otherworld.”

“That’s… He can’t do that, can he?” Meredith
asked me.

“Sure, he can.”

“But… I’m human! Your laws don’t apply to
me.”

I smiled. “They do when they affect members
of the League. Adam is quite within his rights to detain you for
the watch if he believes there’s enough evidence to justify such an
act. If they find you guilty, you’ll be duly punished, and I can
assure you, the League takes a dim view of anyone who harms one of
their members.”

Meredith’s eyes narrowed on me. “I should
have known better than to ask you. You’re probably screwing him
every chance you get.”

“Insulting Karma isn’t going to help,” Adam
said calmly. “Answer the question.”

Meredith made a big production about it, but
finally he settled down and started giving us some answers. “Spider
wanted a way to get rid of ghosts and such without having to rely
on you,” he said, giving me a nasty glare. “He said it was getting
harder and harder to make you do your job, and he knew the end was
coming. Once we made plans for the Fun House, he had me put
together the anomaly diffuser. It did your job without any of the
hassle you were sure to give us.”

“Fun House?” It was difficult to reconcile
the images of Spider and an amusement park.

“Every ride a guaranteed ballbuster,” he
said, leering in response. “Spider wanted to try the diffuser out
on this house. He said that you’d been defying him and not
destroying the spirits like you’d been ordered to do, and he wanted
to make sure the job was done properly.”

A little stab of pain pierced my heart at
the thought of Sergei being destroyed so callously.

“What does the diffuser do, exactly? Does it
send the target to the Akashic Plain?”

“I don’t have those weirdo powers you have,”
he said, waving away the question. “It disrupts the pattern of the
anomaly. Permanently. One blast and it’s bye-bye ghost.”

I wanted to ask more about how the machine
worked. If such a horrible thing were made freely available, it
could have terrible ramifications for the Otherworld.

Adam, however, decided we’d strayed from the
point long enough. “Tell me what happened after you left this room
with Spider.”

“I already told you! We went down to find a
door, someone hit me on the back of the head, and when I woke up,
you guys were there and Spider was dead.”

“Let’s go through it step by step.”

Meredith sighed and went over the events
with reluctance. I listened with half an ear, my attention divided
between him and the group at the table in the center of the room.
Savannah had evidently proceeded to the trance stage, for she
rocked from side to side, her head tipped back, her eyes closed,
her long hair sweeping a pendulum’s path across the back of the
chair.

“We went downstairs. Spider remembered
seeing a door in the basement. He found a crowbar, and started to
pry open the door.”

“Spirits who surround us, we humbly implore
you to make yourselves known to us,” Savannah said in a singsong
voice. “Come forth and tell us your names. Share your wisdom. Guide
us in the darkness.”

“What happened then?” Adam’s voice was a
deep counterpoint to Savannah’s.

“I stepped back to give him room to use the
crowbar. I said something about us not being able to get out of the
house, and Spider said he’d be damned if he stayed there any
longer. I thought I heard a noise behind me, but before I could
turn, something coshed me on the head and I was out.”

“We seek enlightenment, spirits of Walsh
House. Come before us and teach your humble pupils. Tell us of your
lives, so that we might be better for your experiences.”

“What sort of noise did you hear?” Adam
asked.

Meredith made a vague gesture. “Just a
noise. Something moving. Could have been anything—a person, a rat,
one of those damned spirits of yours.”

“Spirits of Walsh House, we call upon you
now! Speak to us! We feel your presence. We welcome you with love.
Speak to us now!”

“Did you see any—”

Before Adam could finish, Savannah gave a
small shriek. Evidently she’d been peeking despite her “trance,”
for she sat now pointing at the center of the table, where the air
had grown misty, as if it was gathering itself up into a tangible
form.

“I… I summoned a ghost!” Savannah said in
outright astonishment, her eyes huge.

“Mother Mary and all the saints, what is it
ye want from me, woman?”

“I summoned a ghost who talks!”

“Too bad it’s not someone cute,” Pixie said,
eyeing the materializing spirit. “And younger.”

Adam froze, staring in surprise at the
center table. I was just as surprised as he: with the house sealed,
it shouldn’t be possible to summon any being into the house. But on
the middle of the table, the figure of a man was solidifying—a
ghostly white, gauzy figure, but a man nonetheless. One who looked
familiar.

“Grandpa?” Adam asked, a comical mix of
surprise and embarrassment on his face.

The ghost turned toward us. “Adam, me boy!
Ye grandam’ll be delighted to know it was ye who woke me up. House
looks nice. Dropped that third arm, have ye?”

“Do you… do you know this… er… gentleman?”
Savannah asked, her voice hushed with awe.

Meredith rolled his eyes. “Oh, for god’s
sake. This is all we need—more freaks.”

“Who’re yer friends, then?” the ghost asked,
turning a not-so-friendly eye on Meredith.

Adam sighed and rose to his feet. “This is
my grandfather for whom I’m named: Adam Tennyson Trent. He died
sixty years ago. He’s supposed to be elsewhere. I had no idea he
was in the house, but I’d appreciate it if you could put him
back.”

“Now, Adam, don’t be takin’ on like that.
If’n yer havin’ a party, I’d be happy to have a wee chat with yer
friends. I’ve been sleepin’… What year is this?”

“It’s 2008. Go back to sleep,” Adam ordered,
storming over to where Savannah sat with an astonished, if joyful,
expression. “And next time, pick someone else’s house to take a nap
in.”

“Fine welcome that is from me own flesh and
blood.” The elder Adam had quite an Irish accent. I couldn’t help
feeling sorry for the younger version. The old man had a roguish
twinkle in his eye that was apparent despite the wispy nature of
his materialization. “It’s been years, lad. How is your work comin’
along? The last yer grandam and I heard, ye was workin’ for the
government.”

“I still am,” Adam said, his shoulders
slumping in resignation.

“How come she can summon a ghost?” Pixie
asked me in a whisper, her eyes narrowed on Savannah. “I thought
the house was sealed.”

“It is. I suspect the gentleman there was
dormant.”

She gave me a blank look.

“It’s another word for sleeping. Polters and
spirits can lay dormant for decades so long as they’re not
disturbed. But you should know that.”

She rolled her eyes.

“This is your grandfather?” Savannah asked,
beaming with happiness at the spirit. “How do you do, sir? I am
Savannah Bane, president of the Psychical Mysteries Society. We’re
delighted you decided to grace us with your presence. Would you
mind if I took a few pictures of you?”

“Not at all, dearie. Me left is me best
side.” Adam senior turned and struck a dramatic pose.

Savannah muttered something about hoping she
had enough film left as she dug her camera out of her purse, then
quickly took a few shots.

“All right, you’ve said hello and had your
picture taken. Now go back to sleep,” Adam ordered.

“He always was an impatient lad,” the old
man confided to Savannah, much to her delight. “Now then, me boy,
ye’re not even goin’ to tell me about how yer grandam is gettin’
on?”

Adam raised his eyes heavenward for a
moment. “She’s fine. She is very busy.”

“Raisin’ hell, as always, I’ll wager,” the
ghost cackled, slapping his leg. “Raisin’ hell, ye get it? Ah, boy,
it’s good to see ye.”

“I want to sleep for decades,” Pixie
announced. “I don’t want to wake up until all the teachers at
school are long gone.”

“Eh?” The spirit spun around to look at her.
“Who be ye, then?”

“Morbent Vixen,” she answered.

“I thought it was Obsidian Angel,” my father
said.

The look she gave him was one of pure scorn.
“That’s
so
half an hour ago. I changed it to something
better.”

The old spirit eyed her for a few seconds
before turning back to his grandson. “This be yer woman, boy? She’s
a bit on the young side.”

Adam bore the air of one well persecuted.
“She’s not my woman. She’s fifteen, and the ward of Karma.”

“Karma?” The ghost squinted as he looked at
the rest of us, his gaze finally settling on me. “Ah. Now, there’s
a pretty lass. Much better choice. Not a pure-blood, though.”