Chapter 10

Bailey spent midday strolling around New Mourne feeling restless and wondering what he was going to do with himself until dinner tonight with Fiona.

He had the uneasy feeling he was being watched. The business people he encountered in the shops were friendly enough, but there was still the strange, prickly sensation he had associated with Anna ever since her death. It was the feeling he could turn around and she would be standing there. Right after she died, he’d always turn to find no one was there. He had proven to himself many times he would never see his sister again, no matter how strongly he felt her presence. He also knew no one existed who could make that happen, despite what Fiona claimed.

So why were the hairs on the back of his neck standing? Why was he contemplating asking Fiona more about Anna?

“Oh, God,” Bailey moaned, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “I hate this shit.”

He shrugged off his unease, bought an éclair from Britta’s Bakery, and found a comfortable shaded seat in the town park midway between the inn and Fiona’s office. After consuming the delicious pastry and resisting a zombie-like compulsion to buy another, he got a steady wireless connection on his phone and took care of some work emails.

His business world seemed oddly calm, perhaps because the old and new shows for this fall were already in production and going well. His main duty was lining up new programs for a January launch. The priority, at the moment, Fiona’s show.

No, not just Fiona’s, he decided as he once again glanced at the town’s bustling main street. After this morning’s adventures, he had to wonder what other unusual people and events were waiting for him in New Mourne.

“Hello.”

Bailey turned at the greeting and stood as a red-haired man approached.

“Dr. Rodric McGuire.” The man put out his hand, and Bailey shook it wondering why the name sounded familiar. He looked a bit older than Bailey, shorter and solidly built. Despite the warmth of the day, he wore a navy sports jacket over a button-down shirt and gray slacks—all of them wrinkled. His tone was courteous, but there was something not so friendly in the intelligent brown eyes behind his square-rimmed glasses.

“I have a feeling you know who I am,” Bailey said.

“The producer who is interested in our Fiona’s show.”

“Our Fiona? Are you a relative?”

“A very good friend of Fiona’s soon-to-be brother-in-law. You know him as Sheriff Tyler, I believe.”

Yes, Bailey remembered the good sheriff’s warnings last night. He also recognized Dr. McGuire’s accent as Scottish. “You’re a ghost hunter,” he said, realizing why the man was familiar.

“A scholar who studies paranormal phenomena,” the doctor corrected.

The very helpful diner waitress had told Bailey there were two world-famous paranormal experts in town. Fiona’s father, whom Bailey had met last night, and another man she called “the Scottish dude.” Bailey had looked him up on the Internet yesterday when he was pulling together notes on the day’s events, and wondered why this little Georgia mountain town attracted the attention of someone like Rodric McGuire, PhD.

“Misty over at Mary’s Diner told me you’re a ghost buster,” Bailey continued. “How’s that different from what Fiona does?”

“Fiona’s a medium, so she talks with the dead. I don’t have that ability.”

“But you see them, huh?”

“I study the effect the paranormal have on our environment,” the doctor continued. “Depending on their form, they leave distinct imprints and sometimes cause unpleasant side effects.”

“Can you get rid of the side effects?” Bailey’s interest was piqued now.

“Once the phenomena are identified, I often work with those like Fiona who can help restless spirits cross over or at least stop interfering in the lives of the living. And sometimes, once I can prove that people are truly experiencing a haunting, they live harmoniously with the spirits.”

Sounded a little like a ghost therapist, Bailey thought to himself, which wasn’t nearly as cool as ghost buster. “So you don’t zap ectoplasms and imprison them?”

The Scot’s mouth quirked. “Though that sort of activity made for several pleasant films from comedic geniuses, no, that’s not how I work.”

“Pity. With the right action, we could include you in the show I’m planning.”

The brown-eyed gaze sharpened. “Fiona is doing the show?”

“I’m broadening the scope,” Bailey replied with his normal confidence. “With Fiona’s family and the interesting characters in this town, we don’t have to keep the focus on Fiona’s activities.”

“And has Fiona’s family agreed to that?”

“She’s talking to them.”

For some reason the doctor thought that was funny. He laughed aloud and clapped Bailey on the shoulder like they were old buddies sharing a private joke.

Bailey frowned. “I’m completely legit, you know. You can check me out.”

“Jake and I have spent the better part of today looking into you,” McGuire said. “You’re quite good at what you do, Mr. Powers, but I doubt you’re going to get anywhere in New Mourne.”

“Fiona is very interested,” Bailey replied.

“She’s in no position to be doing this now.”

“And who are you to be saying that?”

The doctor held up his hands. “There’s no need to become contentious. I have no reason to stop Fiona from doing something she truly wants, but her family is involved in something very…” He stopped, as if searching for the right words. “I guess complex would be the best way to describe their situation.”

“Next you’ll be telling me they’re cursed.”

McGuire went slack-jawed. “What are you talking about?”

“An old lady in the diner-—I think her name was Willow—told me the family members are witches and they’re cursed.”

The Scot fell back a step. “Willow Scanlan told you this?”

Bailey was confused. “Fiona led me to believe that Willow’s the town loon, and she spreads tales like that all the time. I figured she had an old grudge against the Connellys and that’s why she called them witches. It’s a pretty general term, you know, not just a reference to old crones who fly around on broomsticks and stir up eye of newt and toe of frog in their cauldrons.”

McGuire looked shocked. “You have some stereotypical views about the supernatural and some misconceptions—”

“And I have some pretty good reasons for them,” Bailey retorted.

“There’s no room for you here.” The doctor stepped forward, and all trace of the absent-minded professor vanished. “Can I give you some advice?”

“I’m sure you will whether I want it or not,” Bailey said affably.

“Leave Fiona alone.”

For a moment, all Bailey could think of was kissing Fiona last night. Was the Scottish dude staking a claim? “If you and Fiona are involved, that—”

“What nonsense,” the doctor cut in. “I simply know Fiona’s family doesn’t want you here.”

“She didn’t tell me that.”

“You’re just causing more problems for the Connellys. They don’t need your interference or your disrespect for what Fiona is.”

“I’m not disrespecting anyone, Dr. McGuire.”

“Aren’t you?” McGuire stepped forward. “Aren’t you planning to exploit Fiona, her family, and this town?”

“Exploit is a strong word.”

“I think it applies.”

Bailey started to protest, and then sucked in a deep breath. Very little gain could come from a disagreement with a good friend of the Connellys. “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind as I deal with Fiona and her family.”

McGuire glowered at him, his fists clenched at his sides. “Sheriff Tyler and I will be watching you.”

“So noted,” Bailey said, although he didn’t think the threat was necessary.

Simmering, he walked out of the park and along Main Street, heading toward Fiona’s office without thinking. He wasn’t going to exploit anyone. He produced entertainment. For God’s sake, Fiona was already on the internet. Couldn’t any of them see she wanted the exposure? Dr. McGuire and his lawman friend needed to relax.

His phone rang, and distracted by his anger, he answered tersely.

“My, but you sound angry,” said his mother. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Sorry, Mom, I was preoccupied. Good to hear from you.”

“Can we talk onscreen? You’ve been on the road so long, I’ve almost forgotten what you look like.”

Bailey laughed. Once upon a time, his mother’s need to see him often was annoying. With some maturity, he realized that losing one child in a sudden, horrific way might mean she needed some regular reassurances about her other child.

He had to turn his back on Main Street and press the app to get his mother’s face on his phone. Her smile told him how pleased she was. “It’s my same old mug. Nothing new here.”

“I rather like that mug of yours,” she retorted.

“It’s a lot like yours.”

With sun-streaked hair and blue eyes, Beth Powers still looked like the quintessential California beach girl. Both her children looked more like her than her husband.

Both children.

Bailey groaned and realized why his sister had been so in his thoughts today. “I forgot,” he confessed to his mother. “Today’s Anna’s birthday.”

His mother’s smile was sad. “I’m actually glad you forgot.”

“Mom—”

“No, honestly, your forgetting is normal and healthy.”

“She’d have been twenty-nine.”

He tried to visualize his gawky, younger sister all grown up. What would she have done with her life? “I’m sorry I didn’t call you.” Even fifteen years later, his mother had problems with the big occasions without Anna—the birthdays, holidays, and the anniversary of her murder.

“It’s okay.” Beth reassured him. “Tell me about this new show. Your dad filled me in last night.”

“I think it’s going to take a little longer than I expected to get buy-in from everyone involved.”

“You think the medium is genuine?”

He lifted an eyebrow.

She laughed. “All right, I guess it would take more than a day to convert you to a true believer.”

“I’ll tell you everything soon,” he promised. “I want to get all of the details figured out before I present it. There’s a lot going on here.”

“I’m sure you’ll do what’s best,” she said. “You always do.”

“There was a time you wouldn’t have said that,” he replied, thinking of his wild years after Anna’s murder. “You should go do something nice for yourself today. Like a spa or something, what you might have done with Anna for her birthday if she was here.”

She looked pleased. “I’ll do that. Love you, son.”

“Love you, too,” he said as he hung up.

He sat for moment in the sunshine, his head full of memories. Once more, a tickle of awareness ran up his spine. This time, he didn’t resist the impulse to turn. What he saw was Fiona coming out of her office and loading something in her van.

Bailey hurried down the sidewalk and called out to her. She glanced up, her expression distracted and intense. As he walked toward her, he appreciated the way her worn jeans cupped her rounded behind and her snug black tank emphasized the firm swell of her breasts. Once more, he remembered the impulse that made him reach for her in the starlight last night.

“Was the snake duly delivered to your grandmother?” he said as he drew near.

“Yes.” She hefted a loaded backpack into the van and slammed the door.

He glanced down at her ankle boots. “Going hiking?” he asked as he followed her around to the driver’s door.

“No.”

“Can I go along?”

“No.” She finally turned to look at him. “I’m kind of busy right now. We’re going to talk tonight.”

“Sure, but—”

“See you about seven, back here.” She got in the van, started the engine, and waved as she pulled away. She turned right at the traffic light, the same direction Bailey took yesterday when he tracked her down.

Not stopping to consider that he was pretty much stalking her, Bailey jogged to his car in the inn parking lot. He was on the road in minutes, and it wasn’t long before he spotted the van up ahead in traffic.

He couldn’t say why he knew exactly where she was going, but he did—back to the cemetery where they met.

Cars thinned out as they left the town proper, and Bailey hung back, not wanting her to see his car. At the crest of the hill before the road descended to the graveyard, he pulled off into the last patch of trees before the land turned barren. The van pulled in the cemetery, and Fiona got out and shrugged on her backpack. She gestured and pointed as if talking to someone invisible. Maybe she was on the phone. He glanced down at his own cell and remembered there was no service out here.

He eased out of his car when she struck off across the desolate landscape. She was looking down at a piece of paper in her hands, intent on the contents. He subtly followed, keeping her in sight and using the half-dead trees he encountered for cover. Thank God, there were no crows hovering today.

He paused beside a gnarled tree to give her some space and noticed his pants’ legs were covered in tiny brown dots. Leaning against the tree, he pulled his leg up for a closer look and discovered they were not insects but some kind of plant. When he looked back, Fiona was out of sight. He got worried when he didn’t find her right away and then almost got caught as he moved forward. He had to drop down behind a spindly bush.

Bailey realized there was no sound. There were no birds, no squirrels scurrying from tree to tree, no hum of bugs, or drone of bees. Just absolute silence. A chill ran through him, and he chided himself for acting like a dumb teenager in a B movie.

He shifted from his hiding place to sneak a look. Fiona was standing in front of the steep face of a rock cliff. She was chatting away, although there was still no one that he could see. He surveyed the area ahead, trying to find a place to be closer yet still hidden, but if he moved, she’d see him no matter which way he went.

Fiona removed her backpack and pulled several items out. Bright red fabric unfurled, a vibrant swath of crimson that came alive in the sunlight. A cape, he realized as it settled around her shoulders and she pulled the hood over her gleaming hair. The cape billowed around her as though a heavy breeze lifted it, though the air was still, heavy, and hot.

Next, she took out a long, curved knife. She drew a circle at her feet and crossing marks. She placed five candles around her—red, orange, purple, violet, and yellow. She stepped back and raised her hand. The candles flamed bright, and Bailey blinked. How had she done that?

Pulling her cape close, she took several deep breaths, dropped her head against her chest, and then turned her pretty face upward.

Bailey saw storm clouds gather in what had been a clear, blue sky.

Fiona lifted her arms. She looked like a beautiful red bird getting ready to rise to the sky. The wind roared, a sound amplified in the oppressive silence.

Bailey held his breath as Fiona began to chant. Her voice lifted, and he could hear every word.

“The hour has power, the power is mine. Where once was a door, open for me. Where once was a cave, please let me see.”

Bailey drew in a sharp breath as the earth shook. Fiona’s cape swirled in satin ripples around her outstretched arms. She shouted, “As I will, so mote it be.”

The ground on the ridge in front of Fiona fell away in big chunks of rocks and earth. When the trembling stopped, a dark opening had been torn into the land.

Fiona dropped her arms the air calmed as once again silence fell like a numbing hum.

She blew out the candles, took off her cape, and repacked all the items in her backpack. She once again spoke to the emptiness beside her, shouldered the pack, and walked through the opening.

Bailey remained on his knees, stunned. His brain burned. Either the bakery had incorporated magic mushrooms into that éclair or Fiona had some kind of power. If he wasn’t under the influence, then she had just moved a mountain.

Foreboding washed through him as he scrambled toward the cave’s entrance. He had to stop Fiona or something terrible would happen.

Just inside the opening, he started to call out. Then he heard a sound behind him and whirled.

Anna stood in front of him.

Anna.

Just as he remembered her from that last day of her life. After all these years of feeling her so frustratingly close, he saw Anna haloed by the sunlight, a smile on her lips. Anna, here? Why? Had Fiona truly been able to summon his sister?

Bailey stepped forward and pain shot through his head. His legs buckled, and the world went black.