CHAPTER 8

The En-Royale Garage was along the waterfront. We pulled around back. Toby was supposed to be working, although we could easily miss the mark and get here on his day off. But when we wandered into the reception area, Ralph nudged me and nodded toward a man in mechanic’s coveralls. He was about five seven, with dark tousled hair and piercing eyes, and he was focused on some part of the engine. I had no clue what, but he was giving it a puzzled look that I recognized all too well as bewilderment. The smell of oil and gas hung in the air, and grease from the cars. I grimaced, not liking the smell at all.

We were about to head over when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I whirled around to see Chai looming over me. He was dressed, at least—and fully, in a T-shirt that stretched across those broad shoulders of his, and jeans. His hair pulled back into a high ponytail and the massive ring in one ear weren’t the only things that made him stand out. Dressed to fit in or not, the fact remained that Chai was still seven feet tall, with eyes that could never quite pass for human.

“Chai, what are you doing here?” I glanced around, but there was no way he could vanish now without attracting attention.

Ralph gaped up at him. “Hello? I don’t . . . think . . . Shimmer, who is this?”

I rubbed my forehead, suddenly tired. “Chai, meet Ralph. Ralph, meet Chai. Chai is a friend of mine—he’s a djinn. He was supposed to be staying at my house watching after my fish.”

“Chai. Like the tea?”

“Yes. I have no idea where he got the name, but you can ask him later.” I pulled Chai to one side. “What are you doing here?”

“I got worried about you. I had the feeling something was wrong and decided to trace you down and check on you. Are you all right, Little Sister?” Chai reached under my chin and chucked it.

I batted his hand away. “So far, but I need you to leave. Through the door. Wait outside for us, okay?” As I pushed him toward the door, he just shrugged and sauntered off. After he left the building, I turned back to Ralph. “Sorry . . . he means well. He’s a good sort—djinn or not. And he’s exuberant. Kind of like a very smart, very large puppy.”

Ralph was trying not to laugh. I could see it in his face. “Okay, then. I’ll remember that. Puppies can bite, you know.” He nodded at Toby, who had—for the moment—given up on whatever he was trying to do and now was cupping a mug of coffee, leaning back in his chair. “I think we should go talk to him now, while he’s taking a break.”

“Makes sense to me.” I led the way over to the man. He was about thirty-five, maybe forty by the looks of him. “Toby Buckland?”

He jumped a little as I spoke. “What?” Apparently he’d been deep in thought. “I mean, yes . . . I’m Toby. What can I do for you? Are you being helped?” He glanced around, but the garage was so busy that nobody else seemed to have really noticed our presence, which could be a good thing, in our case.

“We’re not customers, thank you. We wanted to know if you had a few minutes to speak to us? It’s about your family and the house on W Street.” As I spoke, a veiled look came over his eyes and he frowned. “I promise, we won’t take up too much of your time. Please, it’s important.”

“Follow me.” He nodded toward what looked like a conference room. Once we were inside, he shut the door. The half window allowed us to see what was going on out in the main garage. He motioned for us to sit at the table. “Okay, who are you and what do you want?”

I glanced at Ralph. We’d discussed our approach on the way over. “We’re investigators writing a piece on the historical significance of houses in the area. We have noted there have been some strange goings-on reported where you used to live—on W Street? We were wondering if you could give us any history of the house or land.”

He looked confused. “What the hell? I’m sorry, but no. I didn’t live there very long, just when I was a little boy. My father lost the house in a business deal gone wrong and we had to move by the time I was eight years old. I don’t remember much about it.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “That’s not why you’re really here, is it? You might get further if you just tell me the truth.”

I glanced over at Ralph, who shrugged. “All right. But you probably won’t want to talk to us after you hear what we have to say. And if you don’t, that’s fine—we understand. We’ll leave.”

That seemed to intrigue him, because the look of suspicion turned to one of curiosity. “Go on, then.”

Ralph cleared his throat. “We’re with the Fly by Night Magical Investigations Agency. It’s true that we are investigating a haunting at the house you lived in when you were young. We were wondering if you had any idea of who the spirit might be? Was the house haunted when you lived in it? Or can you think of anything that went on there that might have been the source of a disruption?”

“Well, that’s different. How much do you know the history? And who owns the house now? The Striker family, still?” Toby gave us a smoldering look.

“No, actually, they sold the house to our client some years back after Nathan Striker died there, but he just now got around to renovating it and ever since he began renovations, odd things started to happen.” I did my best to avoid mentioning that Patrick was Nathan’s friend. If we could keep that under wraps, we might actually come out of this with some sort of information.

Toby held my gaze for a long moment. Then he slowly relaxed. “My father died destitute, you know. Striker broke our family. We never quite pulled together again after that. Ma tried, but she was sick with diabetes and it killed her. My father watched her go, and he couldn’t do a damned thing. I was the only child on our side of the family.”

He leaned forward, his eyes bright. “But my father, he got even. Or rather, my grandmother did. When she found out what Striker did to my father, she went to Anna Lee, and she asked Anna Lee to put a curse on the house.”

I stiffened. The magical chanting . . . Could it be related to whoever Anna Lee was, and her curse? “Who is . . . was . . . Anna Lee?”

“She was my aunt. She was a fortune-teller and witch. We’re Gypsies, you know—and proud of our line. She was one of the Bucklands who lived the lifestyle. My father, he was ashamed of his heritage. He just wanted to fit in. Grandma was disappointed in him, but she never said anything.”

“And so he went into business and bought the house . . .”

“He thought he could give us a normal life. But we’re not born for it—not really. I don’t even try. I work, but once I save up enough money, I’m hitting the road and traveling the country. I know there’s a group of Bucklands still making the rounds in upstate New York. I might see if they’ll let me join them.”

And so there it was. There was a curse on the house.

“And Anna Lee, she was your aunt, you say? She’s dead?” Ralph was taking notes, and he seemed to have the wits about him to be properly respectful.

“Yeah, she died a few years back. She never married, but she had a string of lovers a mile long. She could dance, and sing . . . when she was younger, she lived in a caravan. But after she developed arthritis, she decided to settle into a small apartment. She told fortunes and cast spells for her living.”

I didn’t know a lot about humans and magic, but I knew that some of them could be pretty damned powerful when it came to spellcasting. There was quite a history of witchery throughout human culture, long before the neopagans found it. While some of them had tried to tame down the magical aspects of it, there were a number who still understood the strength and power of the forces they worked with.

Stretching, Toby yawned and glanced at the clock. “My break’s over. I have to get back to work or the boss will be on my back.” As he stood up, he let out a snort. “About your ghost . . . I don’t remember much. I think there might have been something there, but nobody ever bothered me. Have you considered the idea that it might be Striker? He lived and—you say—died in that house. The curse might have kept him there.” And with that, he opened the door, indicating our talk was over.

As Ralph and I left, Chai was waiting outside for us. He followed us back to the car and I realized he meant to hang around. Wonderful. How was I going to explain this one to Alex? And if he objected, well, I had no influence over what the djinn did.

“So Anna Lee Buckland put a curse on the house. We don’t know what kind, but at least we can surmise what the chanting is connected with. So we need to figure out what kind of curse it is, and then we might be able to figure out if the spirit haunting the place is Nathan.” Ralph glanced nervously at Chai. “He coming with us?”

“Apparently so. Just be polite and everything will be fine,” I said with more confidence than I felt. Chai would never mess with me, but I couldn’t vouch that he’d behave himself around Ralph and Alex. “Oh, and don’t ask Chai for any favors. Trust me. The question is, why would Nathan haunt Patrick in such a nasty way? They were friends—”

“Were is the operative word, isn’t it?” Ralph turned to me as I was fastening my seat belt. “Remember, Patrick said that he and Nathan had a falling-out. Nathan wanted Patrick to turn him so he wouldn’t die. Patrick said no. Nathan’s family was grateful Patrick didn’t, but Nathan wasn’t. Maybe he’s trying to get back at Patrick for refusing him?”

“That would make sense. And if the curse exacerbates the energy, maybe Nathan’s spirit has turned into some sort of a monster?” I glanced into the backseat. “Fasten your seat belt, Chai. The law requires it and we’re not getting any tickets because of you.”

“You want me to take care of this ghost you have a problem with?” Chai’s voice rumbled from the backseat.

“Yes! Can you?” Ralph sounded all too excited.

“What did I just say about asking him favors?” I glanced back at Chai. “No, thank you. Absolutely, emphatically, do not do us any favors or grant any wishes. You do, and I send you packing.” I glanced over at Ralph, worrying my lip. I could speak in front of Chai without worry, but there was a point where bluntness turned into being rude. But I had to make Ralph understand. “Never ask a djinn for a favor, or accept one from him. Do you know anything about djinn wishes?”

Ralph shook his head. “Can’t say that I do. Just thought, if he could help us, it might be worth a shot.”

“Djinns are bound by their natures to twist your wishes in any way possible. Even when they aren’t chained to a person’s will.” I shot a glance at Chai in the backseat. He’d managed to avoid getting enslaved so far, and I hoped that never changed. The thought of him being subservient to somebody turned my stomach.

Chai cheerfully chimed in. “Shimmer is correct. I’m bound to make the offer, and then I’m bound to screw things up for you if I can. Nothing personal, you understand.”

“What, is it in your union handbook?” Ralph snorted, but Chai laughed right along with him.

“Actually, yes. Well, the equivalent.” He was able to sit in the backseat without too much problem, but his head still brushed the roof of the car. “These vehicles need to be bigger.”

“Don’t even go there. This monster is big enough as it is.” Ralph put the car into gear and we swung out on the street. “Okay, it’s almost eleven. We grab a quick snack and then I seriously need some sleep. Even with catching an hour of shut-eye this morning, it’s been a long time since six o’clock last night.”

I was starting to feel the strain as well. “Right. I’m not hungry, so if you just want to go back to the house we can. When we wake up tonight, we should get right to searching through Gypsy curses to see if we can figure out what Anna Lee did to the house. Maybe Tonya will have some clue as to what we’re up against.” I yawned and stretched, realizing that the thought of bed sounded really good. “Chai, I want you to stay awake while we sleep. There’s a nasty spirit in the house and we’re a little leery of what it might do while we’re in bed.”

“Won’t that backfire?” Ralph darted a quick look my way, his voice decidedly nervous.

“Nope. I didn’t ask him a favor. I told him what to do. He doesn’t have to obey me, but if he decides to oblige, that’s a totally different matter.”

Chai muttered something under his breath.

“What?” Ralph glanced in the rearview mirror. “You say something?”

“Damned right,” Chai grumbled. “Nasty buggers, ghosts. Can’t stand them. I’ll keep watch. No worries.”

We drove back to the house and, once we made sure we’d written down everything we needed to remember, Ralph and I decided that staying in the same room might be the safest route. Ralph was shy, slipping out of his jeans, but he was wearing boxers that looked like swimming trunks. I’d brought a pair of PJs as well as a sleep shirt, figuring it might be drafty in the old house. So I changed in the bathroom and we settled into the bed, turned away from each other. Chai stretched out in the recliner near the bed with a book. I couldn’t read the language it was in, but he seemed absorbed by it.

After a round of good-nights, Ralph and I fell asleep, the alarm set for six thirty. If anything happened while we slept, Chai kept it from bothering us.

•   •   •

Ralph went back to his own room to shower and dress. Chai was still where he’d been when we drifted off to sleep, and I gave him a quick hug before hitting the bathroom.

“You smell a bit ripe, girl. Go shower.”

“I love you, too, dude.”

He held my wrist for a moment, staring into my eyes. “Something else is going on besides spooks and spirits. Going to tell me what it is?”

I never had been able to hide anything from him, but right now I didn’t feel like talking about Alex. It was too new, and I wasn’t sure what it would turn out to be, and I wanted to just focus on the case at hand at this moment.

“In a bit, once I figure it out myself.” I grabbed a towel and my travel kit and headed into the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later, I was clean from head to toe and smelled like cucumber-melon. I brushed my wet hair back into a ponytail, where it would dry, and then quickly dabbed on some eye shadow, liner, and mascara. I liked makeup, but it hadn’t fully become routine with me yet. I added a thin slick of pale bronze lip gloss and then returned to the room, where I dressed. Chai had seen me naked before, and if he had any interest, he’d politely kept it to himself.

I fastened my bra and put on a fresh pair of panties, then slid into a clean pair of jeans and tucked in my pale blue V-neck sweater. I added a black belt with a silver buckle, feeding it through the loops. After I slipped on a pair of sneakers, and tied them, I turned around to find Chai staring at me.

“You are comfortable here.” He held up his book and it vanished from sight.

“In this house? Hell, no.”

“I don’t mean in this house—it’s a malignant cancer right now. But in your human skin. You are more comfortable in this world than you think you are. I’ve known you for a long time, Shimmer, and I’ve never seen you so easy with yourself. I think coming Earthside has been a positive thing for you.” He stood, and—just like that—his clothes shifted. Now, he wore a dark green polo shirt and a pair of black leather pants. His hair remained in the high ponytail, though, but he’d changed the earring from gold to silver.

I smiled, ducking my head. “You know, I thought maybe it was my imagination. I don’t really want to be comfortable here—there seems something almost shameful about it, like I can’t fit into my own society. But . . . truth time? I do feel at ease over here in a way I never felt at home.”

“Not surprising, given the difference in attitudes here. It can be harsh and cruel, but your world, Little Sister? Is a cold and harsh one. Come, girl, introduce me to your master.” Chai held out his arm, and I grinned as I looped my own through it.

“Alex isn’t my master. He’s my boss.”

“Same thing, isn’t it?”

“No, now you’re mixing up your semantics again.” We playfully argued as we headed down the stairs. I was surprised that I hadn’t seen any paranormal activity since we went to sleep, but then, djinns were powerful, and having Chai around could only help matters.

As we approached the kitchen, Alex and Patrick were already up. They’d risen at sunset, and now I smelled waffles and bacon on the table. My stomach rumbled. As I entered the room, Chai hanging off my arm, they both stared at me like I’d walked in attached to an elephant.

“So, who’s your . . . friend?” Alex blinked and slowly stood.

“Alex, this is Chai. Chai’s a djinn and a longtime friend of mine. He popped over to see how I was. He was going to stay at my house and watch my fish, but I guess he decided to see what I was up to here. Chai, this is my supervisor—the owner of the company. Alex Radcliffe. And this is his friend and our client, Patrick Strand.”

I held my breath and the men sized each other up. But then, after a round of shaking hands and greetings, both vampires settled back into what they were doing. Chai gingerly sat down in one of the kitchen chairs, making sure he was out of the way. I sat beside him and gratefully accepted the plate that Patrick handed me. It was overflowing with food—apparently Patrick had noticed my appetite. But then again, most Supes had higher metabolisms than humans and bigger appetites.

Ralph entered the kitchen, looking chipper and ready for breakfast. He pushed his glasses back on his nose—they were forever sliding down—and slid into a chair on the opposite side of the table. “I’m starving.”

Patrick dished him up a plate. “Here you go. We were just getting to know Shimmer’s friend.” He poured more batter on the waffle iron. “Chai, I didn’t expect another guest, but I’ll fix you a waffle right now, if you like.”

“I would appreciate that greatly, Master Strand.” Chai gave him a courteous nod.

“We have news from today. We can talk and eat at the same time.” I glanced over at Patrick.

“Do tell.” He added more bacon to the skillet, turned it on medium, then moved over to sit at the table with the rest of us.

“First off, did you know that the Bucklands are of Gypsy blood? And they have—or rather had—an aunt who was apparently very good at putting curses on people. And things. And apparently, she put a curse on the house after Terrance Buckland’s mother found out what Nathan did.”

That produced a response, from both Alex and Patrick.

“Um, no. I didn’t know any of that.” Patrick slowly leaned back in his chair. “That really doesn’t bode well for me, does it?”

“No, but more so, it doesn’t bode well for the house. By the way, we talked to Tonya Harris. She’s really quite nice. She’s going to come over around eight thirty in order to scope out things. At least we can tell her what we think the magical chanting we heard on the EVP was. Ten to one it was Anna Lee Buckland, working her magic.”

Alex cleared his throat. “Well, that’s a kettle of fish, isn’t it? You find out anything else?”

“Yes, we did, actually.” Ralph told him about the soldiers who had died on this land, and then we filled him in about the Jenson family who had vanished while homesteading in this spot. “So we have several possibilities for what might be happening in your house. Here’s the information we dug up at the Historical League.” He laid out the pages we had printed off, and Alex and Patrick scanned over them.

I happened to glance up from my breakfast to see something move behind Patrick. A drawer opened and a meat fork—one of the large forks used with a carving knife—rose into the air. I slowly set my own fork down, staring at it, but before I could think to say a word, it sailed through the air toward Patrick’s back.

“Halt!” Chai was on his feet and around Patrick in a blur of movement. And then he was standing there with the meat fork stuck in his hand. Another second and it would have driven itself right through Patrick’s heart, from the back. Which would have been the end of Patrick.

“Oh man, you almost bought the farm.” Ralph inched his chair back, looking around nervously.

Patrick very slowly turned around. Chai was still standing beside him, the meat fork embedded in his palm. He didn’t look very happy, either, but the djinn very calmly plucked it out and the wound healed within seconds. He handed Patrick the fork.

“I think this was meant for you.”

“Fuck. Just . . . fuck me now.” Patrick held out the fork, staring at the prongs. “That would have . . .”

“Put an end to you. Yes.” Alex motioned to Ralph. “Get the equipment. Let’s see if whoever this is, is still around.”

“I wonder if the curse plays into this? Is this Nathan, driven mad by Anna Lee’s magic? Or is it something bigger and badder who was summoned in by it?” I finished off my breakfast. No use letting good food go to waste, and I was hungry.

Ralph returned a moment later with the camera, the EVP, and the TRU units. I wiped my mouth and accepted the temperature gauge. As I held it out, the temperature read a chilly fifty-two. I wasn’t sure what it had been when we started breakfast, but it had been a lot warmer than this.

Ralph flicked the switch, turning on the camera. He scanned the room, and I peeked over his shoulder.

“If anybody’s there, please talk to us.” Alex held up the EVP. “We need to know who you are and what you want.”

Chai shook his head like he thought we were crazy, but he just backed away and let us work. Patrick inched over to his side, probably so spooked that any port in the storm seemed safer than standing out in the open as a ghostly William Tell target.

I glanced at my watch. Almost half past seven. Tonya wouldn’t be here for another sixty minutes. A blip on the TRU caught my eye, and I watched as the temperature began to plummet again.

“The temperature just dropped another five degrees in the past ten seconds.” I scanned the room. Every hair was standing up on the back of my neck, and my arms were puckering with goose bumps.

Ralph eased over to the drawer where the fork had come from. He paused, lowering the camera. “Ectoplasm—it’s dripping off the drawer. I need to take a sample because it might have the energy signature of whatever is doing this.” He motioned to Patrick. “Get me a container, please.”

Reluctantly, Patrick darted to a cupboard, where he retrieved a plastic container and handed it to Ralph before hurrying back to Chai’s side. Ralph scraped some of the ooze into the round bowl and fitted the lid on it and went back to scanning the room with the camera.

“Talk to us. Tell us what you want.” Alex raised his voice.

The temperature dropped another two degrees. Before I could say anything, the lights began to cycle on and off, the light switch rapidly flicking up and down, and my stomach lurched as the air grew thick, like it did right before a big thunderstorm. I stepped back, suddenly afraid.

“There’s something in the room with us . . .” Suddenly wanting to be anywhere but there, I whirled, looking to run back into the living room. But as I did, the lights plunged off and stayed off, and a clawlike hand gripped my shoulder. The next thing I knew, it was moving up my neck for my throat.