Tangled Souls (2 page)

Avery moved his dark eyes toward the casket and the gaping hole that awaited it. “Then may God help us both.”

* * *

Given the trendy Bel Air address, the man standing near the rain-streaked window was younger than Gavenia Kingsgrave had expected.

In the world of international finance, Gregory Alliford was a mere fledgling.

“Sir, it’s Miss Kingsgrave,” the mocha-hued housekeeper announced in a heavily accented voice. When her employer did not reply the domestic left the study, quietly closing the door. Alliford gave no indication that he’d heard her.

As Gavenia waited, her eyes lit upon a large photograph on the wall above the marble mantel. Framed in finest walnut, it was a family tableau—Alliford, his wife, and their son, Bradley. The silence tore at her, and Gavenia took a tentative step forward using her cane for support.

“Mr. Alliford?” she said in a lowered voice, not wishing to startle the man. He turned with an embarrassed expression, as if he’d just realized he had a visitor. His tanned face was unshaven, with dark circles under bloodshot eyes, his expensive shirt wrinkled. She stepped forward and they solemnly shook hands. His were cool to the touch. She smelled liquor on his breath, though it was just past eleven in the morning.

“Ms. Kingsgrave. Thank you for coming.” He gestured toward an expensive tan leather chair near the sofa. “Please make yourself comfortable.”

As she sat, she noticed another picture, on an end table—Gregory Alliford and his son playing with a small black puppy. The little boy’s smile was infectious.

“That was on his sixth birthday. I got him a dog,” Alliford explained. He hesitated and then looked down at his hands where they sat in his lap. “It was only two months ago. . . .”

Gavenia cleared her throat. “How can I help you?”

“I called because I don’t know what else to do. I thought of talking to our priest, but I don’t think he’d understand.”

“No doubt he can help you in other ways,” she replied gently.

Alliford shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.” He sighed. “I thought it was just me, but my housekeeper, she’s . . .” He trailed off.

“It happens sometimes.”

Alliford cleared his throat. “Janet refused to be here today. She’s staying with her mother in Palm Springs. We separated right after Bradley’s birthday, and it was hard on him.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. It usually works better if both parents are present.” Gavenia paused a moment and then shifted tone. “Please, tell me more about your son.”

She waited as the father returned to his post at the window, where raindrops pummeled against the glass with increasing intensity. A low growl of thunder echoed through the room, rattling the crystal in the wet bar. Alliford began to shake, knotting the curtains in his fists, clutching the fabric until his knuckles bleached white.

“God help me, I don’t know what to do anymore,” he said, his voice quaking. Tears tumbled down his face as he struggled to maintain control. Gavenia rose from the chair, sensing his imminent collapse. “I can’t take it any longer. Promise you’ll help us.”

Alliford fell into her arms, weeping uncontrollably. As she held him, her eyes tracked to the little boy’s face in the picture above the mantel.

“I promise.”

* * *

Gavenia placed her palm on the gaily painted nameplate that proudly proclaimed
bradley’s room
. She traced each letter with her index finger. Through the closed door she heard the characteristic sounds of a child at play. After a deep breath, she knocked and entered.

Gavenia’s eyes swept the space and found it typical for a child of Bradley’s age. The walls were festooned with clowns sporting big crimson noses, scrambling out of old jalopies and toting brightly colored umbrellas. A row of small teddy bears stood guard along a high shelf. Large paper stars hung from the ceiling on thin nylon threads, gently moving in the air above the twin bed.

“Bradley?” she called. The child was no longer playing, but curled up in a corner, his arms around a big brown teddy bear, observing her with wide, luminous eyes. With blond hair and brown eyes, Bradley was a carbon copy of his father. His jean cuffs were frayed, and one tennis shoe needed tying.

When he shrank backward as she approached, Gavenia maneuvered herself to the carpeted floor in an effort to appear less threatening. The movement made her wince at the discomfort in her left thigh. Placing the cane at her side, she tucked her long dress around her legs. All the while the child remained silent.

She closed her eyes and took a series of calming breaths. The faint scent of bubble gum caught her nose, and she smiled at that. When she opened her eyes, Bradley had not moved.

“I’m Gavenia.” He did not reply, but peered around her as if expecting someone else. “Do you know what I am?” He seemed to think for a time and then gave her a barely perceptible nod. “I’m here to help you.”

He straightened up and shouted, “I want Merlin!”

That puzzled her. Mr. Alliford hadn’t mentioned someone named by that name. Gavenia searched around the room, wondering if one of the stuffed animals was named after the legendary wizard and the little boy couldn’t see it from his place on the floor.

“Is he one of your bears?” she asked, pointing upward. The furry creatures were dressed in various outfits—one was a priest, another a ballplayer, a third an astronaut. She particularly liked that one. There didn’t appear to be a magician.

“Merlin!” the little boy called, his voice sharp and high-pitched, evidence of his growing agitation.

The answer came to her in a flash, and she sighed in relief. “He’s your dog.”

The little boy nodded and then sank even farther into the stuffed animal, as if he could take on its skin.

“I didn’t see him downstairs.”

“Mama doesn’t like him inside.”

“Why not?”

“He chews stuff.”

Gavenia chuckled. The image of a black puppy came into her mind, one with a lolling pink tongue and boundless energy. She could see the little boy and the dog rolling in the grass, squeals of laughter coming from the youngster as they played together.

“You really like him, don’t you?”

The little boy loosened his grip on the bear and nodded.

“I’ll ask about him. I’m sure he wants to see you.”

“He isn’t like me, is he?”

Gavenia hesitated, caught off guard by the innocent question. She closed her eyes for a second and let the impressions engulf her. “No, he isn’t. Do you know what happened?”

The little boy nodded. “I got hurt.”

Her heart tightened in anguish.

Leave it to a child to make death sound so simple.

Gavenia took a shuddering breath and fought for control. She had to help this innocent soul understand that something better awaited him on the other side.

“It’s time for you to go home, to go see your grandmother.”

Bradley’s eyes widened. “Nana?”

“She is waiting for you,” Gavenia said in a reassuring tone.

The little boy thought and then shook his head.

“Your grandmother misses you,” she said.

“No!” he snapped, the force of his voice echoing in her mind. “I want to see Merlin!”

In the distance, beyond the misty veil, Gavenia could see Bradley’s grandmother waiting for him, but the boy was oblivious to her loving presence, too anchored in the temporal plane. He had to make the final journey of his own volition.

Gavenia had only one choice. “I will find Merlin, and then you can go be with your nana.”

The little boy blinked through fresh tears and nodded solemnly, as if they’d sealed a sacred pact. Then he gave the bear another intense hug and dissolved into nothingness, leaving Gavenia and the dancing clowns behind.

When Gavenia paused near the greeting-card rack, her friend acknowledged her and continued to wait on the portly customer at the counter. The woman was carrying on about the wonders of a particular psychic reader at the Cosmic Connection, a rival shop. The establishment was Crystal Horizons’ leading competitor and located in a trendier neighborhood. It counted a number of celebrities as its patrons and never failed to capitalize on the association.

The customer gave one of the candles a cursory sniff, shook her head, put it down, and picked up another, then repeated the action eight more times as Gavenia watched in amusement. “I just don’t know which one to choose,” the woman said.

“Are you a Libra?” Viv asked.

“Why, yes. Triple-aspected,” the woman announced. “How did you know?”

Viv nodded in understanding. “I thought so. Let me help you.”

Gavenia struggled to keep a smile off her face. Most born under the sign of Libra were indecisive at the best of times, but a triple-aspected one was, well . . . triply inclined to dither. Though wonderful people, they often found decision making a problem, even when choosing something as simple as scented candles.

Knowing she had plenty of time, Gavenia headed for the bookcase and her personal ritual. To the casual observer, it appeared she was looking through the book stack, but she had another purpose. She removed two particular books from the shelf and set them aside, as the tomes held no interest—she was fairy hunting. And there
she
was, just like the day Gavenia had painted her.

Aunt Lucy had commissioned a wall mural, and the artist had made the painting extra special, at least to Gavenia. Nestled in the middle of a pastoral scene depicting the God and Goddess holding court, her wee fairy was one of many fey hidden in trees and peeping around blades of grass. Gavenia’s fey looked exactly like her: flowing blond hair, cobalt-blue eyes. In her hands, she held a tiny mouse sporting a gold crown.

Now it was all hidden behind the big bookcase, courtesy of a previous owner. Gavenia kissed her index finger and pressed it against the fairy for luck and then replaced the books, the ritual completed. She would continue to do so until the building no longer stood.

“Yes, these are perfect,” the customer announced, and before she could change her mind,
again
, Viv rang up the candles. The woman trundled to the door, a beaming smile on her face. In the end she’d bought six candles instead of one.

Viv appeared at Gavenia’s elbow. “Finding what you want?” she asked.

“I’m having trouble deciding between all these,” Gavenia replied in a mischievous tone.

“Don’t start with me!” Viv warned, and then grinned. “I love Libras, I really do. But sometimes . . .”

Gavenia picked up one packet each of Dragon’s Blood and Temple Blend incense
.
She debated over the one labeled Tibetan Tiger
.
After another deep inhalation, she added it to her stack, as it claimed to provide clarity of thought. She doubted there was enough in existence to make a dent in her sluggish mental processes, but it was worth a gamble. “So how are things going?”

“It’s slow today, but that’s often the case on Thursdays,” Viv replied, rearranging piles of incense on a spotless shelf.

“Is the homeless shelter affecting sales?” Gavenia asked. The shelter located next door was Lucy’s baby, staffed by members of the Wiccan community, offering one meal a day to a minute fraction of the thousands who lived on LA’s streets. In time they hoped to offer beds as well.

Viv shrugged at the question. “Most of my customers aren’t upset. The ones that are I can live without.” She collected the incense packets and headed toward the counter with Gavenia in tow. “Nice dress, by the way. Your blue jeans in the wash?” she teased.

“I didn’t have time to change.”

“Looks good on you. You should try real clothes more often.” Gavenia shot her an irritated look. “So how’s it going?”

“Okay.”

Viv gestured, demanding more information.

“I have a particularly tough client right now,” Gavenia explained.

As she leaned against the counter, her elbow jostled a plastic container. The sign on it described the plight of a fellow witch who had broken her leg and didn’t have insurance. Gavenia fished a few dollars out of her purse, and dropped them inside the collection jar.