The Ghost Exterminator (16 page)

“So are we going to check out this Prometheus place?”

Jo made a face. “It’s closed today.”

“Right. Sunday.”

“No, Samhain. Tomorrow is Samhain night. It’s a big witch holiday.”

“Don’t you mean Wicca?”

Jo burst out laughing. “Well, well, look who’s all knowledgeable about the occult all of a sudden. But technically, no, I don’t mean Wicca. Wicca is the religion. Witchcraft is the art. Many witches are Wiccan because the principles coincide, but I’ve met Buddhist and even a couple Catholic witches as well. It takes all kinds.”

“But this Samhain is a holiday, regardless of religion?”

Jo wrinkled her nose. “Holiday is the wrong word, I guess. It’s a power day. A natural day of death and rebirth. Witches tend to retreat from the modern world and gather to focus their power. The greatest spells are always cast during Samhain and Beltane, a fertility festival at the beginning of May.”

“So the spell on the house, will it be even worse tomorrow?”

“God, I hope not. That’s all we need.”

They stopped at a light and Wyatt turned to face her. “Do we just wait until after Samhain then? Get our answers then.”

Jo glanced at him, her eyes somber. “I don’t think we can wait. We’ll have to search the house for the talisman.”

“The house didn’t like you very much last time.”

“I won’t be doing anything to the ghosts this time. Just looking. I don’t think it will kick the holy hell out of me if I don’t take a few shots at it first.”

“What does a talisman look like?”

Jo grimaced. “Yeah, that’s the tricky part. It could be just about anything. Usually it’s a medallion of some kind, mostly because witches are traditionalists, but I’ve heard of people enchanting vacuum cleaners. A talisman is just an object that has been imbued with a magic of some kind. For all we know, it’s the kitchen sink.”

“So how do we find it, if it could be anything?”

The light turned green and Wyatt pulled his attention away from Jo and put it back on the traffic.

“I have a theory,” she said, and the hesitation in her voice set off warning bells that almost had him veering off the road.

“Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like this theory?”

“I think Teddy and Angelica might know where it is.”

He frowned. “Why would you think that?”

“It’s something my Gram said. She said I had all the pieces I needed to figure this out and she specifically mentioned Teddy and Angelica. I think they can help us get the talisman out of your house. Not only that, I think they might be able to help me pull them out of you, too.”

This time Wyatt did swerve, but he quickly brought the car back under control. “How?” If it involved Jo getting knocked around by the house again, he wasn’t so sure he was in favor, but just about anything else that would get these ghosts out of him was worth it.

“Gram said they don’t go anywhere without a reason. I thought at first she might mean there had to be a reason why they were in you, but now that I think about it, I think she was trying to tell me that I have to give them a reason to be somewhere
else
. If I find a place where they belong, getting them out of you should be easy. I hope.”

“So you’re going to ask them where they belong?”

“Something like that. Let’s just hope they aren’t from Timbuktu.”

Chapter Twenty-Four: Love Means Never Having to Say Untie Me

Jo secured Wyatt’s wrists to the headboard with brand-new, pink-leopard-velvet-lined handcuffs.

She’d left a message for Karma outlining her talisman theory and, after a quick stop at a twenty-four-hour sex shop, they’d come straight back to Wyatt’s condo to see if Angelica and Teddy could save the day.

“You’re enjoying this far too much,” Wyatt complained when she bounced on the bed beside him, giving the handcuff links an experimental tug.

“Yup,” she agreed unabashedly. “Comfy?”

“As comfortable as I’m going to be, handcuffed to my bed.”

Jo chuckled throatily—Wyatt was
so
not a submissive—and stretched out beside him, leaning close but careful not to touch. “Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Haines?”

“Minx,” he growled. “Let’s get this over with.”

“No foreplay?” Jo flashed him a wicked grin. “You’re the boss, boss.” She bounded off the bed and disappeared out the door, returning a moment later dragging one of his dining room chairs. She plunked it next to the bed and perched on it, watching him expectantly. “Well? Go on. Go to sleep.”

“I don’t sleep on command.”

Jo rolled her eyes. “You don’t actually have to sleep. Just close your eyes and relax. I’ll do the rest.”

Wyatt closed his eyes, but his forehead was screwed up in a frown and he was about as far from relaxed as a man could be.

“You have trust issues,” Jo informed him.

The sound that came out of Wyatt’s throat did not sound particularly human.

“Did you just growl at me?” She bit her lip to keep from laughing. Perfect, put-together Wyatt had been reduced to growling. Maybe there was a silver lining in all this chaos.

“I
said
that I trust you,” he bit out, his eyes still obediently closed. “It’s the damn ghosts I don’t trust.”

“Buddy, you’re handcuffed to a bed. What mischief can they possibly do?”

“I don’t like this.”

“So noted. Now try to relax.”

Jo reached out and grabbed the larger of the two glowy marbles currently lodged in Wyatt’s ankle. She wrapped her metaphysical fist around the marble and pulled it to the fore, stretching and manipulating the energy until Wyatt’s body surged upward and green light rippled through his limbs. The handcuffs pulled taut, snagging at his wrists and jerking his body back toward the bed as Angelica took form in his body.

The nine-year-old yanked at the cuffs, Wyatt’s throat producing a petulant whine.

“Hello, Angelica.”

The ghost twisted toward the sound of her voice and sniffed. “Oh. It’s
you
.”

“Yeah, you’re not exactly my favorite person either, Miss Bubblelicious, but I’m going to overlook that for the moment. You and I are going to have a little talk.”

“I’m not interested,” Angelica huffed, flopping Wyatt’s body onto his back and staring stubbornly at the ceiling.

“I don’t believe I asked your opinion,” Jo said brightly. “You seem to be confused about how this works. See, I’m the ghost exterminator. Which means, I run the show and you answer my questions. Or I can make sure you never get out of that body and you never get control of it again.
Capisce
?”

“You can’t do that!” Angelica wailed.

“Cry me a river, kiddo. Or better yet, answer my questions and we all get to live happily ever after. Or die happily ever after, in your case.”

“You won’t trap me in here. You want me out of the body.”

Smart kid.
Jo shrugged, as if there was no particular urgency—souls separating from their natural bodies and whatnot—to getting the ghosts out of Wyatt. “You do something for me, I might be willing to do something for you. Like get you out of there.”

“Deal.” A sly gleam entered Angelica’s eyes. “Don’t you want to shake on it?”

“I’m not uncuffing you.”

The little girl pouted. “Meany.”

“Yep. I’m a tyrant. So, Angelica, do you like jewelry? Necklaces? Pendants?”

The little girl brightened—literally. The green glow covering Wyatt upped in wattage. “Do I get a present?”

“Only if you help me find a very special necklace.” Wyatt’d probably buy the kid a diamond tiara if she could tell him how to unhaunt the Victorian. “A necklace with magic powers. It drew you to the house. Do you know where—”

“No, it didn’t.”

“Interrupting is rude, brat.”

“Yeah, well, so is being a big, fat bully.”

“Did you just call me fat?” Jo hated children. She really,
really
hated children. Even those who were biologically related to her were barely tolerable.

“A big, fat,
dummy
bully,” Angelica sneered. “A necklace didn’t bring me to my house. It’s
my
house.”

“It’s Wyatt’s house. You’re an uninvited guest, kiddo. Just like in his body.”

“It’s my house!” Angelica shrieked. Wyatt’s features contorted with childish rage. “It’s always been mine. My daddy built it for me.”

Jo frowned, wondering if enchanted medallions could create false memories in the ghosts they controlled. It seemed like a stretch.
Her daddy built it
. “Just how long have you been in the house, Angelica?”

“Forever.”

“How long is forever?”

“For-ev-er,” the ghostling drawled out slowly, rolling her eyes as if Jo were mentally impaired. “That’s always, fat-dummy-bully.”

“Were you there before the other ghosts got there? Before the medallion?”

“Mm-hmm.” Angelica’s expression grew sly. “At first, I didn’t like the other ghosts in my house. They were as bad as the nasty workmen, banging around. Teddy and I couldn’t get away from them, even up in our attic playroom. But then I realized I could get them to do what I wanted. It was so much easier to play my games with all of them helping.”

“Your games.” Jo had a feeling she’d just discovered the origin of Wyatt’s Episodes.

“I’d never have been able to blow up the whole furnace with just me and Teddy.”

Jo felt the first twinge of respect for the little brat. She was downright Machiavellian, the phantom infant general. “Do you remember when the other ghosts started to arrive? When the medallion activated?”

“You mean when the flower lady snuck the knot necklace into the kitchen?”

“Yes.” Jo sat forward abruptly, realizing too late she’d betrayed her eagerness for this bit of information. “Who is the flower lady, Angelica?”

Angelica frowned. “She’s the flower lady.”

Jo rolled her eyes.
Obviously
.

“Our sister showed Teddy and me movies and pictures and stuff. She didn’t like the flower children,” Angelica said primly. “But the flower lady is too old to be a child.”

“A hippy.” Jo groaned. “Moonbeam.”

Wyatt blinked blearily at the clock. Three twenty-two. From the darkness in the room, alleviated only by the dim glow of the bedside lamp, it had to be three-twenty-two in the morning. He’d been out of it for over seven hours. Jo crouched on the bed beside him, shaking his shoulder. She looked like she’d been through the wars.

“Hey,” he mumbled groggily. He felt like he’d been drugged.

“Hey, yourself,” she muttered crankily. The good mood she had displayed while cuffing him to the bed was clearly a thing of the past. “I hate children. I couldn’t even beat them because that would only have bruised your body. I do not ever want to be a mother.”

“Duly noted,” Wyatt said, though with her youthful zest for life, he had a feeling Jo would be the kind of mother all kids wished they had. “Is there a reason why I’m still chained up?”

“You have to ask?” She waggled her eyebrows lecherously.

“Jo.” The warning was clear in his voice.

“Fine, fine. I get it. You aren’t into the whole bondage thing. I’ll get the key. Keep your pants on. Unless you can get them off without using your hands. In which case I will be duly impressed and reward you accordingly.”

As soon as she darted out of the room, Wyatt took stock of the body that a pair of juvenile ghosts had been occupying for the last several hours. He itched. Everywhere. It felt like his skin had shrunk two sizes.

By the time Jo returned to the bedroom, the tiny handcuff key in her hot little hand, he was twisting around helplessly on the bed.

“Wyatt. I was kidding about taking off your pants.”

He paused in his writhing to glare at her. “I itch everywhere and I can’t scratch a damn thing,” he growled.

“It’s totally psychosomatic,” she said, unsympathetic. “You’re just freaking out ’cuz you hate being out of control for even three seconds.”

He ignored her psychobabble. “It feels like I’ve had spiders crawling over my skin for hours.”

“Darn, you caught me. How did you guess there was a freak tarantula infestation while you were out? I was against it, but the ghosts are very persuasive when it comes to new and creative ways to torture your bod.”

“You’re evil,” he grumbled, flexing his hand as she released the first wrist. The circulation hadn’t been restricted as much as with last night’s silk tie experiment, but his arms were stiff from being held above his head for hours on end. His muscles screamed as he shifted his arm down and began scratching every inch of his skin.

She squinted at him as she leaned across him for wrist number two, giving him a nice view of the assets in her tank top. “Are you sure you’re Wyatt? You sounded just like Angelica for a second. She kept whining about how mean and evil I was.”

“A ghost after my own heart.”

“Yeah, she’s a peach. Although you might not like her as well once you find out that she was the mastermind behind ninety percent of the Episodes at your pretty new inn. Apparently, Angie dear was an original resident and doesn’t take kindly to trespassers.”

“A nine year old? Work was stopped for an entire month, setting us back thousands of dollars because of a dead nine year old?”

“Yep.” Jo sprawled on the bed beside him, waiting until his scratching frenzy had died down before she asked, “You want the good news or the bad news?”

Wyatt groaned and closed his eyes. “Please God, no more bad news.”

“Okay, good news first. Angelica and Teddy both have personal attachments to that house. And from what I can figure, they’ve both been dead for at least sixty years.”

“Why is that good news?”

“
Because
,” Jo purred, tapping him playfully on the nose, “if they have a personal connection to the house, it means we are likely to be able to remove them from you there.
And
since they predate the talisman’s arrival, it means that they were there to see our Bad Guy put the talisman in the house.”

“So who’s the Bad Guy?”

She made a face. “Yeah, that’s the bad news. How well do you know your secretary, Wyatt?”

“Moonbeam?” He snorted. “Moonbeam wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“I don’t know about flies, but Angelica saw her plant a silver pendant shaped like a knot in the kitchen and ever since then, the kitchen has scared the bejeezus out of both Angelica and Teddy. That’s incriminating enough for me.”

“There are a thousand other explanations,” Wyatt protested. “You said yourself that the talisman could be anything. It probably isn’t even a pendant. Moonbeam could have just dropped a necklace. She’s always wearing bangles and charms.”

“And that never seemed suspicious to you?”

“Jo, she’s worked for me for over a decade,” Wyatt said, his ire on the rise at her persistence. Moonbeam was not the culprit. He was sure of it. “Besides, why would she recommend bringing you in to fix things if she wanted them messed up?”

“To cover her tracks, or because she needs me to do something, provide a catalyst of some sort that she can’t do herself.”

“This is ridiculous.” Wyatt launched himself off the bed, stalking out of the bedroom. Jo followed on his heels.

“Wyatt, Angelica saw her sneak into the house at night, carrying that pendant into the kitchen.”

“You trust a ghost over someone I’ve worked with for a decade?” He began to pace. “She’s a kid, for Christ’s sake. A dead kid! And did she actually
see
Moonbeam leave the pendant? I’ve never seen a necklace in the kitchen.”

Jo rolled her eyes. “Sure, because there are no places to hide things in kitchens. No cupboards, drawers, dishwashers or drains to stuff something small into.”

“Moonbeam is a friend of the family,” Wyatt protested, absolutely certain she was not involved.

“It’s business, right? No emotional attachments.”

When he stopped his pacing to glare at her for throwing his words back in his face, Jo just shrugged, crossing her arms under her breasts and leaning back against the bar.

“She’s been with us since the beginning. Why would she start sabotaging us now?”

“Look, Wyatt, loyalty is an admirable quality and all, but the evidence is pretty overwhelming.”