Shattered Souls (27 page)

Sam’s eyed the boxes. His jaw ground shut.

“If he’s inside, try to wing him. No kill shots.”

Sam nodded crisply.

Jason gave a small two-fingered salute.

Then Sam fanned out, stepping through the grass to the corner of the two-story brick house to peer into the backyard. Cait took the opposite corner, and Jason headed to the front door.

Jason used his special key, gripped the doorknob, and quietly opened it. “We’re in,” he whispered.

Sam and Cait crept onto the porch, following him inside.

The air in the house was chilly despite the fact there appeared to be no power—no lights, no air.

Windows were taped off, sheets of brown paper covering them as though the frames were about to be painted. The floor was covered in thicker paper. Their steps crunched quietly while they went room to room, ducking inside each one, then whispering “clear.”

At every room entrance, she saw her reflection in the thick sheets of Visqueen plastic—like mirrors moving every time they lifted them aside to pass through. They regrouped at the bottom of a flight of wooden stairs.

It was pitch-black at the top. Quiet. Too quiet. Cool air rolled down the steps, and Cait knew that by the time they reached the top, they’d see their breath.

“This is it,” she whispered. “Feel it?”

The men nodded, both their faces set in grim masks.

“No kill shots,” she repeated, patting her weapon. “We get him down, I use this. No one has to die.”

Both men held up their weapons. Sam pushed her behind Jason, then preceded them both up the stairs, gun held out and gripped in both hands.

Her heart pounding, she followed behind the men, listening with her ears and her mind, trying to “see” what was ahead, but the silence was deafening. The darkness complete.

At the top of the stairs, with only dim outlines of light around doorways to guide them, Sam passed at the first door but pointed Jason toward it before moving to the next.

Feeling useless, Cait trailed, ears pricked to any sounds. She heard only their soft tread, the occasional squeak of a floorboard. Again, the guys whispered “all clear.”

One last staircase led into the attic. No light gleamed around the darkened door. But now she heard the whispers, her natural Geiger counter on, soft voices chattering fiercely, overlapping so she couldn’t make out their messages. By the way the white noise strengthened, she knew she was drawing near.

Something must have shown in her expression, because Sam leaned close. “You OK?”

“It’s up there,” she said.
Waiting.

“You hear something?”

She shook her head. “Just whispers. Lots of them.”

“No wraiths?”

“If they’re there, they’re staying quiet.”

“Stay behind us.”

Tightening her grip, she glared. “I’m the one it wants.”

“Maybe so, but all the more reason you need to stay safe.”

Cait gave him a small, tight smile and nodded her agreement.

Sam ducked down, kissed her cheek, and then gestured to Jason before walking sideways up the rickety stairs. At the top, he took a deep breath, reached out, and turned the knob.

The door flew open, banging against the wall inside.

Sam shot through the door and out of sight. Jason rushed in behind him.

Unwilling to wait for the all clear, Cait ran up the steps and peeked around the doorframe. More movable mirrors—sheets of plastic—cordoned off sections of the large, airy attic.

The windows here were covered as well, although the paper was torn in several places, letting in the early morning light. It was just enough to turn the plastic milky white, but not enough to allow her to see beyond it to anything that might be hiding.

Cait’s heart thudded dully. Her palms grew moist. She tightened her hold on her bundle but kept the men in sight as they ducked behind sheets to peer into the shadows, returning with shakes of their heads to indicate they’d found nothing.

And then, near the back of the attic, where a brick chimney stood in the center of the floor, she saw movement. A pale shadow, the shape of a man slipping quickly away.

Cait tapped the floor softly with a foot, drawing the men’s attention, then pointed to where she’d seen the movement.

Sam pressed a finger to his lips for silence and then lifted a plastic sheet and ducked inside. His footsteps were soft, and then he pounded away. “Halt!” his voice rang out loudly.

Silence gone, Jason charged through the plastic. “Behind you, man!”

Cait clutched her wrapped bundle and followed.

When the thick sheet fell behind her, she drew up, glancing around at the small enclosure. Cardboard boxes were stacked floor to ceiling. To one side stood a large, antique glass mirror, the kind a Victorian lady might have used to check her appearance. In the mirror’s reflection, she caught a movement, a face peering back at her before it ducked out of sight, and on reflex, she spun, but no one was there.

Eyes widening, she turned back to the glass and realized whatever it was hid inside.

Heart thudding, Cait went to her knees beside the mirror, gripping the frame and glancing frantically around the edges. She saw the same cardboard boxes, the taped-up windows, but in one corner she saw three figures wrapped in linen strips, like cocoons leaning against the wall.

“Sam?” she whispered. A moment later she heard his steps draw close.

His hand touched her shoulder. “I see them. How the fuck—?”

“I have to go in.”

His fingers bit into her shoulder. “No fucking way.”

Sparing a glance behind her, she scowled. “They’re trapped.”

His frown was just as fierce. “So would you be.”

She supposed she should be flattered that he didn’t doubt she could enter the mirror. “I won’t be trapped,” she whispered, more to calm herself than reassure him. Then she closed her eyes and pressed her fingers against the glass. Her hand met the cool surface. Drawing a deep breath, she imagined the mirror was a pond. The cool glass became liquid, somehow not spilling from the frame, and she pushed her hand through.

Sam grabbed her arm and pulled it from the mirror. “Jesus, Cait,” he said softly, his breath catching.

She arched an eyebrow.

“I’m not freaked out by this. So you can reach inside.” He shrugged. “But
he
might be in there.”

Locking glances, she pushed his hand off her shoulder. “He is. I saw him. He’s waiting for me.”

With a quick push, she came to her feet and passed the package to Sam. “Get this unwrapped. When I come back through, I’ll need it.”

Sam’s hands reached for her again, but she shook her head and gave him as confident a smile as she could manage. “I’ll be back.” Then she lifted her foot, stepped over the ornate wooden frame, and entered the room in the mirror.

Chapter Twenty-One

On the other side of the glass, the space was cold enough to freeze her breath. And although Cait hated betraying her unease, she reached behind her and touched the mirror to assure herself she could escape, relaxing only fractionally when her fingertips sank into the glass.

Glancing behind her, she saw Sam on the other side, his mouth open as though shouting. And by the tight crimping of his mouth, he was cursing a blue streak.

She mouthed back,
Just don’t break it, baby.

“Nice trick, that,” a familiar voice said from behind the mirror and beyond Sam’s vision.

Cait closed her eyes, her stomach plummeting to her toes before she stepped to the side and faced Leland Hughes. “Didn’t like you before,” she grated. “Hate your guts now.”

Leland laughed and extended his arms at his sides. He wore the familiar white shirt, tie tight against his bull neck. His suit jacket was smudged with dirt. “Nice
suit
, huh?”

Knowing he wasn’t referring to the threads, she gave him a narrowed glance. “It doesn’t belong to you.”

“Best to hide in plain sight. Donnelly was a little too obvious. Had me a little fun walkin’ in your lieutenant’s shoes. Things won’t go so well for your friends out there when detectives start following the clues I left.”

His smile widened—an expression that had her shuddering because it wasn’t one Leland ever wore.

“Yeah, things are lookin’ bad. I planted evidence in your LT’s office. Things that’ll point at your boyfriends out there. Not gonna go well for them when the girls’ bodies show up. Unless…”

“You wanna make me a deal?” she asked, her tone flat.

“Isn’t that the way this is supposed to work?”

“Didn’t turn out so good for you with Morin.”

Leland’s smirk turned into a lethal scowl. “Morin was a lovesick fool. Wanted something never meant for him.” He shook his finger at Cait. “But you’re different. You’re smart.”

“Flattery now?” She trailed a finger along the glass as she tilted her head toward him. “Really think that will work with me?”

“Nah, but you have people who love you,” he said, his gestures lavish, his voice loud and braying—so
not
Leland. “You have powers you’ve never fully explored. I can give you…
more
. Together, we could have anything our hearts desire and the money to make it happen.”

Cait pretended to consider his offer, tilting her head to the side while she watched his every move. “It’s funny. All that time you spent wrapped up inside a stinking corpse, but you haven’t come up with anything new?”

“It’s a new world. One that doesn’t believe in
us
anymore. Lend me your power, a simple little spell, and you can have everything you ever wanted. Want to see your mama again?” He kissed his gathered fingers. “Poof! I’ll give her to you. I have friends in all the right places.”

“She’s not in hell.”

His eyelids drifted down to slits. “Seen her, have you? Did she say hello? No? Maybe because she can’t,
Caitydid
.”

A cold trickle spilled down her spine. “Don’t call me that.”

“Because it was her name for you?” He leaned his head to the side as though listening to something just out of her reach, then cupped a hand to his ear. “What’s that, Lorene?” His mouth curved into a sinister smile. “You could have her voice in your head. Along with all the others. But wouldn’t you like to hear what they’re actually sayin’? There’s power in just knowin’. Secrets they can tell.”

“Why would I want to know? I’ve spent a lifetime trying to quiet them.”

“And how’s that workin’ for ya, hon?”

Cait felt something soft brush against her back, something cold. She glanced behind her, saw the snakelike wisp of a wraith take a turn around the boxes. A chill ran through her body.

“Don’t have all day. Someone’s bound to notice your cars parked out there and wonder what you’ve found…”

The wraith blasted past her, cold wind tugging at her hair. Then it slipped through the glass.

Her gaze shot to the mirror, to Sam and Jason staring back. They didn’t see the wraith, mouth opened, whipping around the room.

But they felt it brush past, because Sam’s head whipped to the side a moment before the apparition wrapped its arms around Jason and whipped him back against the boxes.

“Stop it!” she shouted.

Leland stepped closer and bent forward, pushing his face in front of hers. “Give me what I want.”

She nearly gagged on his fetid breath. “All this for a spell so you can stay inside Leland’s body? He’s out of shape, smokes too much. What’s that gonna buy you?”

“With a spell, you can fix all his problems, let him live forever…”

“That didn’t work for you in Worthen’s body.”

His brows lowered. “Noticed that, huh? Morin tricked me. Didn’t do it right.”

Keeping Leland in the corner of her eye, she watched as Sam pulled at Jason’s feet, trying to free him from the wraith who’d lifted him to the ceiling, jouncing him in midair.

She didn’t have time to chat. Had to move, but she knew the beast inside Leland was strong. Even without the infusion of power he needed from the girls, his superior weight could subdue her.

But he was still hampered, limited by his human body. Cait looked away from the mayhem happening in the room outside the glass and straight at Leland.

He must have read her intention as soon as she made up her mind. Because he lunged for her.

With all her strength, she slammed her palms against his burly shoulders and jerked up her knee—a straight hit to the gonads.

Leland’s body bent at the waist, his face reddening as he glared upward. She fisted a hand and punched his trachea.

He fell to the floor, clutching his neck, his eyes glowing with wrath.

A moment later, the wraith shot back through the mirror and blasted against her. Her hair flew back as it wrapped its arms around her and tightened.

Then the wraith disintegrated.

Cait smiled at Leland, whose glowing eyes widened. “Surpriiiise!” she sang.

Grabbing a roll of duct tape from the top of one of the cardboard boxes, she quickly shoved Leland on his belly and taped his hands behind his back. His legs jerked, kicking back, but she sprang away and ran to the first cocoon.

She bent and hefted it over her shoulder, glad the girl was light because she was moving slowly enough as it was—even with the kick of Morin’s added mojo searing her blood. At the mirror, she stepped through. “Sam, grab her.”

Sam darted forward, lifted the girl as soon as she cleared the glass, and set her aside as Cait went back through.

Leland was on his knees, arms wriggling as he wrestled the tape, growling as he fought for breath.

Repeating her movements, she took the second girl through the mirror and dumped her at Sam’s feet. “One more,” she rasped.

On the third trip in, she glanced over to Leland, who was sitting up now, weaving, pupils widening to consume his eyes. His face blurred, a greenish haze playing at the edges. His shoulders bunched and she heard the scratch of tape as it broke. His arms opened wide.

Loping to the last girl, she bent and took her in a fireman’s carry. At the glass, she touched it, and pushed through far enough to shrug the girl off her shoulder. Half in, half out, she shouted, “Hand me my package, Sam.”