Ghost Witching

  Her headed swiveled to the wall clock. Nearly nine. Had the priestess decided not to help after all? “Have you called her?”

  “I don’t have her number.”

  Maggie took out her smartphone, then realized she didn’t either. The number she had for Madame L was the shop phone, presumably not functioning after the fire. She called it anyway and listened to repeated unanswered rings.

  “No answer?” Josh asked. “Shall we divide her handwritten list and start looking up addresses and numbers?”

  She shot him a frustrated look. “Yeah, nothing like wasting a day or two tracking down the right people. She could have helped.” Josh said nothing, and she regretted her bitchy tone. “Sorry. But we’ve wasted so much time already, and we have nothing.”

  “It only seems that way. We have too much information, too many suspects.” He dug the file out of his drawer, extracted the list of board members, and circled the top three. “Since we know something about them, we can skip Gordon, LeMontaire, and Michaels for now. That leaves five apiece. I’ll take the top half.”

  “OK. Can do.” Maggie shrugged off the tension in her shoulders and set to work. The first name was Sally Jordan, and there were seven hundred and fifty-one Jordans listed in the New Orleans directory. Seven were listed as Sally, Sallie, and S. Jordan, but any of the others could have a spouse named Sally. If all of them were like this, she’d get it done, but she foresaw hours if not days of tedious work. She glanced at the clock again and hoped Madame L would still come through.

  Half an hour later, she did.

  “I have everything,” LeMontaire announced. Maggie heard the satisfaction in her voice. “Sorry, it took so long, but I had a lot of explaining to do. They weren’t happy with me, but I told them you needed current addresses and phone numbers. They all responded. I hope it’ll save you some time.”

  “It sure will. Can you forward it?”

  “Already on its way. Let me know if you need anything else. I’ll be busy for a while with the insurance adjuster, but I’ll get back to you.”

  “I trust you had good coverage.”

  “Not enough, but some of the business area is recoverable. I am hopeful the investigators will soon allow us to clean up and start rebuilding. I have a contractor on standby.”

  Of course she did. The priestess had a unique energy about her, and at times, Maggie wondered if Madame L was the real deal. If not, she had an incredible skill for inspiring others. “I haven’t talked with the fire investigator yet. What did he tell you?”

  “No more than we heard last night. But I can see the damage for myself. The store’s inventory was ruined by smoke and water, but the front portion of the structure is still standing.”

  Maggie frowned. The living quarters in back had been destroyed first, establishing it as the point of the fire’s origin and supporting her belief this had been an attempted murder. “Do you have a safe place to stay? I’d be careful who you trust. If members of the satanic coven are inside your Society, they already know too much about you. Do you want police protection?”

  “There is no need to tie up your officers. I appreciate your concern and will be careful, but others are more at risk than I am.” The priestess sounded no more ruffled than before. “The goddess watches over me and mine. I hadn’t yet mentioned it…but Sybil is back. I found her waiting in the alley behind the shop early this morning. She’s fine, not a singed whisker.”

  “That’s amazing. Sybil’s quite a survivor.” But how in hell did that happen? The cat had been inside a burning building.

  The instant Maggie hung up, Josh asked, “Who’s Sybil?”

  “Madame L’s cat. It somehow escaped the fire.”

  “Used up eight of those nine lives, I guess.” Josh’s eyes glinted with humor. “Or she’s a witch’s familiar. Are they indestructible?”

  “Maybe.” Maggie wasn’t so sure it was a joke. “Madame L might need a little magic to keep both of them alive. The fire was set in the living area.”

  Josh sobered instantly. “Then she was the target.”

  “Yep. I offered her police protection, but she refused.” Maggie sighed, then her face brightened. “But the good news is we can stop searching for matches. She’s not only sending the emails but collected every board member’s address and phone number.”

  Josh jerked his head up. “Well, damn, Maggie, why didn’t you start with that?”

  “You asked about the cat.” Maggie hid a smile, hit the print function on her phone, and crossed the room to pick up two copies of the priestess’s e-mail. She dropped one in front of him and returned to her computer, her fingers clicking on the keyboard. “Let’s see if we can eliminate anyone and set up interviews with the rest.”

  It wasn’t that easy. After running background checks, they called each council member and asked one question, an alibi for the night of August 14, the date of Michaels’s attack. Their answers weren’t necessarily dispositive, since by Maggie’s count, the coven had been short one member that night, but it was the only time period they knew the group was together.

  The board wasn’t particularly forthcoming and alibis were scarce. Only one of them was solid—attendance at her daughter’s dance recital with photos to prove it uploaded on social media.

  Interviews were scheduled for the following two days, and Maggie and Josh spent the afternoon digging deeper into backgrounds. Over her fifth cup of coffee—but who was counting—Maggie called Annie to see how she was doing with her curse treatment. She was tempted to distract her friend by asking for help with the computer checks but was thrilled to learn the herbal sachets were having the desired effect.

  “Sorry, I’ve been such a pain,” Annie said. “I never expected to freak like this. I guess Granny’s bedtime stories run deeper than I knew.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Harry doesn’t want to talk about it, but I can feel the evil vibes leaving me. These east coast guys just don’t get the dark undercurrents in New Orleans.”

  Over-simplification. Harry didn’t want to, and Maggie could relate to that. Josh got it…sometimes a whole lot more than she did.

  With Annie in better spirits, Maggie left well enough alone and ended the conversation without mentioning the computer work.

  She picked up the council list and studied her portion: two Caucasian women in their thirties, a fifty-four year old African-American, a thirty-something Latino, and a Jamaican in her forties. Josh’s group was similar. A somewhat diverse but all-female council. She thoughtfully tapped her lips with one finger. If Michaels’s perceptions were right, the black magic coven had at least one male, maybe more. Was that significant? A gender war?

  Maggie straightened. Speaking of all female, why hadn’t she seen the three ghost witches lately? Shouldn’t they be around…and helping her? Hurst had at least shown her a few clues, even warned her when she was in danger. What had the witches done?

  Actually…they had saved Michaels. No small thing. But then they’d dropped out of sight, paying no attention to the curses or the arson. They’d given no hint if Sutter or Brice was involved. Was it possible they were afraid of…whomever? They’d been more than a little freaked out when they drew the pentagram. But surely these Satanists couldn’t reach across the Veil…

  Maggie shivered just thinking about that kind of power.

  “Something wrong?” Josh’s voice jerked her back from her musing. He was leaning back in his desk chair, watching her with concern on his face.

  “No, not really. Just thinking.” She glanced around and leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Why aren’t I getting some help from you-know-who?”

  Josh’s face cleared. “I thought you didn’t want them around. They may think so too.”

  “Nobody cared what I wanted in the past.” But was that true? Dalia had said her first ghost had appeared because Maggie went looking for him, that she had in effect called him to her. And later she’d even summoned him a time or two, after Dalia taught her how. In contrast, she??
?d never called the three witches…except for that first contact with Preston. Shayre and Gundermann had always been tagalongs. She’d never asked for their help.

  Maggie leaned back and crossed her arms. Geez. Could ghosts get their feelings hurt? Or did they require an invitation? Was this another Beyond rule she didn’t know?

  “You are worried,” Josh said, unease returning to his eyes. “If it’s bothering you, contact them.”

  “I could do a simple summoning…at least I think they’d come. But the pieces of these cases are so scattered, I’m not sure what to ask.”

  “How about the name of Preston’s killer,” he said dryly.

  “It’d be nice, but we already know they can’t tell us names and specific addresses. As far as I can tell, they can’t write words…and they seem hopeless at charades.”

  “Can’t they take you somewhere? That’s how it worked with Bobby Hurst,” he pointed out.

  “Never where I wanted to go or on my timetable. But you’re right—unless it’s an event happening right at that moment—physical things like property seem easier for them.” She tapped her chin. “Maybe it’s because objects stay put. Oh, damn it, I hate guessing like this. Why didn’t this weird ability come with a manual?”

  Josh threw her a sympathetic look and answered the ring of his phone. “Oh, hi. Uh, I’m rather busy right now.” He threw a hesitant look at Maggie, then turned away to continue his phone conversation in private.

  It was Ellie. Again. Had to be. His tone changed when he spoke with her, and why else would he act so secretive? The woman interrupted every time they were getting along. It was like Ellie had him wired.

  Maggie grabbed her files to work on at home and waved good-night when Josh swiveled around and gave her a questioning look. She mouthed, “See you in the morning,” and exited the squad room. Her time was better spent figuring what—if anything—she should do about the three ghosts. Straining her ears to hear Josh’s private conversations wasn’t helpful.

  She slammed her car door and blew out a sharp breath. Dammit! Why was she reacting this way? Josh was doing exactly what she wanted by cooling their personal relationship…and it was infuriating.

  Mad at Josh, mad at herself, she spent the next hour at the gun range. And then a long, solitary walk along the river. By sundown, she was no closer to a solution regarding her feelings for Josh—how did she turn off such intensity?—but she knew precisely what to do about the ghostly trio.

  * * *

  Shortly before midnight, Maggie drove across town, entering a dark area mostly deserted at this time of night. Pulling over a block from her destination, she parked, drew in a deep breath, and continued on foot. The street lay in the shadows of large live oak trees, and the moon barely penetrated the sheltering canopy. She glanced furtively around and approached the tall, wrought iron fence intended to discourage nocturnal visitors.

  Maggie firmed her jaw, ignored her better judgment, and climbed over.

  Away from the trees, moonlight was largely unimpeded now, and hundreds of tombstones and monuments stretched out before her…like rows of tiny stone houses, a silent city of the dead. The non-denominational cemetery had been in continuous use for more than two hundred years, but Maggie was there to visit a newcomer. Four months ago, Bernice Shayre had been buried in her family’s ancestral tomb.

  Earlier in the evening, Maggie had spoken with the family and casually verified the location, but she discovered she didn’t need directions. Drawn by a sense of inevitability, she turned down a row of old mausoleums and halted in front of a square edifice, roughly six by twelve and twelve feet tall, with multiples names carved on the side and a white dome on top.

  After confirming she was alone and adjusting to the residual energy of so many departed souls, Maggie said the three spirits’ names aloud three times and sat down cross-legged on the brick walkway to wait. Her hours of musing had led to the inescapable conclusion she needed their help, and the only way she was going to get it was to ask. Since there was no central location shared by the three women, she’d chosen Shayre’s gravesite for the summoning and hoped the others would follow.

  For much of the past year, she’d avoided cemeteries, dreading she’d draw more ghosts to her. But Dalia and Selena had concluded she was attracting a very specific group of spirits, those unable to find peace with their murders unresolved. She hoped they were right, but she still felt uneasy just being there. She flinched at a small thump from the tombs across from where she sat. A striped cat chased something between the stones and vanished. Hunting for dinner. Maggie glanced at the ground near her, wondering if she was sharing the area with mice or even rats. She got to her feet.

  When she straightened, her breath abruptly quickened. The three ghostly witches stood next to Shayre’s tomb. Preston’s figure was barely humanoid now, closer to a cartoon drawing of ghostly swirling light. The other two were glowing orbs.

  “Oh, there you are,” she said awkwardly. Funny, but this never got any easier. “I guess you’re wondering why I’m here. I’ve come to apologize…for ignoring you and not finding your killer yet. My only other ghost offered some help.” She waited. The spirits didn’t react, although their intense regard sent prickles across her neck. Not hostile, not friendly either.

  “Like clues,” she clarified. “You showed me the pentagram—a bit confusing—and helped rescue Stephanie Michaels.” The light around the trio stirred restlessly. “That was great,” Maggie added, “but I need more. Who are the coven members? How are you involved in the takeover of the Witching Hour Society? What about Sutter? And Brice? Are they warlocks? Satanists?” Maggie stopped, knowing her shotgun approach might confuse them, but she’d hoped something would trigger a response. Their continued passivity made her want to scream. “What the hell’s the matter with you? If you won’t help me, I’m giving up, walking away. Solve it yourselves or stay in limbo forever.” She turned away, determined to lend credence to her threat.

  In a sudden flash of bright light, Preston materialized in front of her, barring her path. An orb appeared on her left, the other on her right. Maggie halted, her eyes following the ghosts’ movements as they slowly circled her. She puzzled over their intent, until she realized the circle shrank with each turn. Maggie felt her first spark of fear.

  Where they threatening to touch her? Smother her in the chill of the Veil? Selena said they were strong, intimidating women, used to having their own way. Apparently that attitude had carried over into their afterlife.

  She swallowed hard, pushing the fear behind her. She knew something about pushy women.

  Maggie rested her fists on her hips. “You think you can frighten me?” she snapped. “Be gone. Don’t forget who has the power in this world. It isn’t you.” One of the globes darted forward. A ghostly tendril reached out to brush her cheek. Maggie suppressed a shudder at the instant chill, raised an imperious hand, and repeated in a voice so steady it surprised her, “Be gone. That’s twice. If I repeat those words a third time, you’re out of here. And I’ll never summon you again. Trust me on that. You’ll be left with unanswered questions for eternity. Is that what you want?”

  The ghostly shadows flickered, continued to circle, but maintained their current distance. Maggie sensed a mixture of anger and confusion from them and pressed her advantage. “For any of us to be satisfied with the outcome, the killers must be found and punished. You have to help me. I need a lead. A hint. Anything. What’s your connection with the satanic coven?”

  Maggie stared hopefully at Preston, the most visible of the three ghosts, but her heart sank when the lights began to fade. “That’s your answer? You’re just going to leave?”

  They dissipated into the moonlight, leaving Maggie alone with the silent dead.

  * * *

  Josh watched from the shadows near the wrought iron cemetery gate, his muscles tense, poised to leap over the fence…and do what? He regretted planting the idea for Maggie to go looking for the three ghosts. She might
have gone anyway, but he shouldn’t have given her a push. From her behavior, the meeting wasn’t going well. And what could he do? How could he protect her from something he couldn’t see, fight, or arrest?

  She’d turned to leave just seconds ago, then something happened—raising the hairs on his arms. For a moment he’d felt Maggie’s fear, sending shock waves through him. He’d actually reached for his gun…as if that would help.

  Instead, he’d grabbed his phone searching for Dalia’s number, hoping she could tell him what to do. Then he heard Maggie’s clear voice, and he paused to listen. She’d taken a combative stance, her voice angry, not afraid.

  Reassured, he now waited to see what would happen next, knowing she’d resent any premature interference.

  Maggie abruptly turned and walked toward the gate. Thank God. Josh wiped sweat from his forehead and moved deeper into the shadows. A moment later, he straightened with an oath as five dark shadows swooped toward her from behind the tombstones.

  Those weren’t ghosts!

  Moonlight illuminated the robed figures. He leaped forward, his Beretta in his hand. “Maggie, behind you!”

  She spun at the warning, drawing her pistol. A dark figure leaped at her, swinging a metal pipe. The pipe struck her arm, her gun went off, and they both went down, feet tangled as each struggled to break free.

  “Halt, police!” Josh fired two warning shots into the ground and scaled the fence. He hit the ground running.

  The shots had the desired effect of scattering her attackers. Maggie kicked loose, her attacker fled, and she was on her feet when Josh reached her. The robed attackers had dispersed among the crypts.