Ghouls Gone Wild (16 page)

Gilley’s eyes widened in surprise. “You do?”

I ordered a bottled beer from the bartender, then said, “Yep. Rigella is hell-bent on carrying out her threat. And she’ll work pretty hard to see it through, so having that handy might be a real lifesaver. I also think that when you’re in our room, you should avoid flipping any switches or using anything electrical. No TV or turning on the lights, okay?”

Heath ducked his chin again and said, “Look in his vest pocket.”

It was then that I noticed Gilley was wearing one of those sports vests with lots of pockets. Many of them looked quite bulky. “Whatcha got there, partner?” I asked.

Gil was only too happy to show me and he enthusiastically began to pull out several small flashlights, some additional magnets, two electrostatic meters, and a squirt bottle filled with a clear liquid.

“What’s in the squirt bottle?”

“Fire retardant,” he said.

“Ahh,” I said, choosing to take a long swig of beer before I too had to duck my chin to hide a smile.

John and Kim joined us shortly thereafter and Gopher came in about ten minutes later. “Hey,” he said with a rather smug smile.

“Good news?” I asked.

Gopher nodded. “We’re getting moved up to a better time slot. The network is busting at the seams to get this out on prime time!”

“So they’re going to up our budget?” Heath said, but it came out less of a question and more of a statement.

“Yes!” Gopher beamed, and motioned to the bartender. We waited while he ordered a glass of the bar’s best scotch, then filled us in on the details. “They loved the footage the camera crew took back.”

“What footage?” I asked.

“Cameraman and Sound Guy sent in all the footage they took the night of the accident,” Gilley said drolly.

I blinked hard. “Wait a second,” I said, forming a time-out gesture with my hands. “When did they send in this footage and where are they?”

“They flew back to the States that same night,” Gopher said. He’d obviously told this part to Gil earlier. “I haven’t seen the tape yet, but I guess they captured more stuff than we thought and they also got some footage of the van being attacked.”

My jaw fell open. “They got footage of the van being attacked?”

“That’s what I hear,” Gopher said, knocking back the rest of his scotch and ordering another by tapping the empty glass with his finger. “Can you imagine the ratings once
that
airs?”

I looked at Heath to see if I was the only one getting this, and luckily, he seemed to be right there with me. “Gopher,” he said with a hint of impatience. “Why the hell haven’t you asked for the footage? If it does show the van being attacked, then it might also be enough for the charges against you and Gilley to be dropped!”

Gopher’s hand that held his new drink paused midway to his mouth and he smiled at Heath. “I’m all over it, buddy. I’m just waiting on the film tech to come in for his shift, download a digital copy to a secure server, and send it to me. Don’t want that footage to end up on YouTube early and spoil our first episode.”

“We need to see that tape,” I said firmly. “How long before the tech comes into the office?”

Gopher glanced at his watch. “Any minute now,” he said, upending the glass before banging it loudly on the bar and heading quickly away.

“How are we on replacing the ghostbusting equipment?” I asked Gil after Gopher had gone.

“We’re good,” he assured me. “Except I could only get two of these,” and he held up one of the meters.

“Oh, crap, Gil. We’re definitely going to need more than two. Can we recover any from the close?”

Gilley took another sip of his appletini. “If you’re brave enough to go down there and retrieve them, then yeah. Probably.”

Heath eyed me nervously. “You really think we’ll need them?”

“I do. And I think that we need to do a little more exploring of the close itself. We’ve got to try and identify where the witch’s portal is. She keeps pulling me there and I think I might recognize the section where she and her sisters died.”

“Portals are usually close to the point of death,” Gilley said. “It’s worth a try at least.”

“When did you want to go down?”

I glanced at my watch; it was four fifteen. “No time like the present,” I said, though there was little enthusiasm for the task at hand.

But Gilley was shaking his head. “No way,” he said. “We’re not ready, M. J. I haven’t had a chance to set up the new equipment and I can’t track you guys until that’s in place. There’s no way I’m letting you go down there without some backup.”

I sighed and leaned back against the bar. “How long will it take you to set everything up?”

Gilley pulled out a pen and began scribbling a short priority list on a cocktail napkin. Next to each task he assigned a time. “At least five hours,” he said once he’d tallied the list.

I glanced at my watch again. “Do we really want to head back down there at night?” I asked Heath.

“I don’t know that it would make much of a difference. The close is dark and damp, making conditions perfect for the spooks to come and go as they please. Time of day is pretty immaterial down there.”

He had a point. “You’re right. Okay, Gil. You’ve got five hours to get your equipment up and running.” Turning to John and Kim, I said, “Can you guys stick close to Gil? He’ll be working with stuff that requires electricity and I worry about any power surges.”

John picked up a shopping bag that he carried and pulled out several brand-new surge protectors. “We’ve got his back, M. J.”

“Meg, can you watch Wendell again?”

She smiled and I could tell she was relieved to have such a safe assignment. “Absolutely.”

“Great, thank you.” I then turned to Heath and shrugged my shoulders. “Guess that means you and I don’t have much to do until around nine tonight, guy.”

Heath stared thoughtfully down at his beer while his fingers gently tugged the label away from the bottle. “Actually,” he said softly, “I was hoping that you might grant me an indulgence.”

I arched an eyebrow and my mind immediately went to more carnal thoughts. “Um . . . ,” I gulped. “Indulgence?”

Gilley stared at me and arched his own eyebrow. He knew me too well.

“Yes,” Heath said, his eyes lifting to mine. I suddenly found myself unable to look away. “If you’re up for it, I’d like you to give me a reading.”

I didn’t answer him immediately, and when Gilley nudged me with his elbow and whispered, “Exhale, honey,” I was able to collect myself and reply.

“A reading?”

I don’t think Heath noticed what must have been my very flushed appearance, because he merely nodded and said, “My grandfather keeps coming to you, not me. I think that’s significant. I think he may have a stronger link to you right now, and I was hoping you could connect with him while you were awake by doing a reading for me. Hopefully we can get some direct answers from him that way. He’s obviously trying to help us. Maybe we can use him to help us locate the witch’s portal.”

My eyes widened. “Heath!” I exclaimed. “That’s a friggin’
brilliant
idea!”

He looked relieved and gave me a warm smile. “I thought of it this morning, and wasn’t going to ask because I know how tired you must be after all you went through last night.”

“No,” I said quickly to reassure him. “I’ll be just fine. Come on, let’s find a quiet corner and see if I can connect with him.”

 

As it happened, there were no quiet corners in the bar, or in the lobby for that matter, and it was Heath who finally suggested that we try one of our rooms to hold the session.

I immediately broke out into a nervous sweat, cursing this very sudden and unwanted attraction that I was feeling for Heath.

This time he seemed to notice because he looked at me and asked, “You feeling okay?”

“Sure!” I said, my voice a little too high and squeaky to be believed. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I’m fine,” I insisted. When he still looked at me doubtfully, I added an extra, “Really.”

He let it go and we headed to my room, which I remembered had a nice large table and two chairs by the window that would be perfect for us. Five minutes later I was seated across from Heath, attempting to center and focus my energy.

I could feel an internal switch flick on, and my already-congested lungs felt a little more clogged. I also swore I could smell the scent of cigarettes. “The first energy I’m picking up on is an older male,” I said, sensing the “heavier” energy that is so typically male. “He’s hovering right above your head—on the same level as your father,” I said slowly, but I knew that this man who was displaying himself to me was not Heath’s actual father. “He’s showing me the initial
G
,” I added. “And he’s telling me he’s your uncle, but not your uncle.”

Heath laughed. “That’s Uncle Gus,” he said, the obvious affection he held for this man displayed in his wide smile. “He was my mom’s best friend on the reservation. They even dated in high school, but found that they were better off as friends.”

“He smoked, right?”

Heath’s expression turned sober. “Like a chimney. He died of lung cancer about three years ago.”

“He went very quickly, too,” I said, delighted to be receiving such strong information from Gus. “He keeps showing me a valentine, so I’m guessing he crossed over close to February fourteenth, right?”

Heath’s smile returned. “You’re really good, M. J.,” he said, and I felt the heat flush my cheeks again. “Gus was diagnosed on the first of February, caught pneumonia a week later, and his lungs were already so weak that he died on the fifteenth.”

“He’s showing me a Scrabble board,” I said next.

Heath laughed again. “He was the county Scrabble champion three years running.”

I nodded while I sorted through the feelings and images that Gus was sending me. But in the back of my mind I remembered that although it was nice to be able to pull such a warm and engaging energy like Gus’s into the reading, it was not the point of this exercise. So I gently asked Gus if I could communicate with Heath’s grandfather Samuel, and he graciously moved aside and allowed another spirit to come through. “I’ve got Sam,” I said softly, closing my eyes to concentrate. I could feel his familiar energy, but it wasn’t like my experience in the dream where his actual persona had stepped forward. His interaction with me now was typical for my sessions; I could feel his essence and his personality, but I had no real image of him. Still, he was familiar enough to me to be able to identify him as Heath’s grandfather. “He’s happy we’re doing this,” I said.

“Can you ask him about Rigella?”

“He says we need to be really cautious with her.”

I heard Heath chuckle. “Can he tell us something we don’t know?”

I opened one eye to squint at him.
“Right?”
But Sam was in my head, calling me back to focus on his message. “He says we need to get serious,” I muttered.

Heath sighed. “Okay,” he said. “I’m serious. Ask him how we deal with her.”

I sorted through the sensations, thoughts, and impressions Sam was giving me for a minute before I spoke again. “He says we’re focused on the wrong thing. He says that we need to look in another direction.”

“Is he talking about her portal?”

I asked Sam that and felt a mental nod in my head. “Yeah,” I said. “He doesn’t want us down in the close again until we investigate something else. He says it’s too dangerous and that it’s a dead end anyway.”

“Is he being punny?” Heath asked, and for a minute I didn’t get it and then I laughed.

“Oh, dead end, yeah, I don’t think he was intentionally being funny. He’s telling me that he’s pretty sure Rigella’s portal isn’t down there and that’s not what we need to focus on anyway. . . .” My voice trailed off as I worked out what he meant.

In the silence that followed, Heath asked, “What?”

“He says the bigger issue we need to figure out is why the spirit of the witch is here so early.”

I opened my eyes and looked at Heath, who seemed to register that as quickly as I did. “Bonnie said Rigella showed up every one hundred years like clockwork.”

“But this time she’s thirty-five years early,” I added.

“Which means there’s a reason,” Heath said, his eyebrows furrowing. “So what’s different about her appearance now?”

And I knew the answer almost immediately and it sent an icy chill up my spine. “Gilley’s here,” I whispered.

Heath stared at me for a long minute before he spoke again. “How did the witch know that Gilley would be in Scotland, M. J.?”

Sam spoke actual words then, loud and clear in my head.
She was called forward,
he said.
Coaxed out of her portal by someone who wanted to use her.

I looked at Heath in shock. “Someone living must have pulled her out of her portal, Heath.” The moment I said that, I felt Sam’s spirit nod vigorously.

“Who would
do
that?” he gasped.

I rubbed my temples. “Someone powerful,” I replied. “Someone dangerous. And someone with a grudge.”

“A grudge against Gilley?” Heath pressed. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly! Who would want to harm him?”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “But your grandfather is insisting that we find out.”

“And then what?”

“Then we focus back on finding her portal, I guess.”

“Does my grandfather know where it is?”

I asked Sam that question, but his energy was already fading, which is the one big bummer about connecting with the dead—they can’t sustain the contact for long before all their energy is drained. “He’s pulling back,” I told Heath, “but I think he’ll come around again to help us tackle that bridge when we cross it.” And then I felt the energy sever completely and I was alone again in the room with Heath.

“I think I might know where we should start,” Heath said.