Chapter Seven

They spent the afternoon sending e-mail inquiries and making notes and plans in the office before heading down to a meal in the restaurant. There were few staff members present; those who were eating in that night avoided them, seeming to prefer to keep a safe distance. Martin and Claudia looked at each other and shook their heads in unison.

Claudia flipped through the day's copy of the Gainesville Gazette they'd picked up earlier whilst they ate. She closed it with a sigh. "There's nothing worth seeing at the movie house in town tonight."

"Are you getting a touch of cabin fever, dear?" he asked.

She snorted. "Just a touch!" Reaching across the table she clasped his hand, feeling the strength there. "I was hoping we'd go out tonight, have a break from this place and its ghosts and spirits."

He put down his fork and took her hand in both of his. "Me too, love. I guess the nearest we'll get to a movie house would be the TV in our cabin."

She pulled up a corner of her mouth. "That's not much of an option, and you know it."

"I do." He glanced at the nearby tables; the numbers were thinning out as people drifted away to their cabins or headed for the parking lot. "We could have an early night," he said, feeling his blood quicken in his veins at the prospect of making love to her.

She squeezed his hand and sat back with a smile. "Y’ know, I was thinking the same thing.”

He waggled his eyebrows. “Maybe we can try something a little different?”

She cocked her head. “I'm not sure about anal, Martin, if that's what you're thinking."

"Well…" he began, feeling his face grow hot. "It did cross my mind."

With a smile she reached over and clasped his hand again. "It's okay, darling. I don't mind the idea. It's just that we've not got any lube, I only did anal dry the once and it hurt." She rocked her hand. "Sorry, but I'm kind of tight back there." She winked. "Another time, sure."

The thought of Claudia being with any other guy—even in her as yet unspoken-of past—gave him a pang of jealousy. The thought of her being bulled from behind… He curtailed that line of thinking and raised a hand. "Okay then, love; not anal. Just touching, and being touched; making love."

"The idea has possibilities," she said, and smiled.

* * * *

On the way back to their cabin they passed Laurel heading the other way along the path from the staff cabins.

"Going for a night out, guys?" she called brightly and waved.

"No, we need to rest. We've got a flight over the mountains booked for tomorrow," Claudia called back. "Where are you headed?"

Laurel gave an expressive shrug and gestured at the main building. "I've got some work to catch up on."

"You shouldn't work so hard, Laurel," Martin said, thinking of her wan appearance earlier.

"Now you're sounding like my mother!" she said and laughed as she began walking away. "Have a good night, guys, and see you tomorrow."

"I wonder about her, you know," Claudia said as Martin unlocked the cabin door.

He turned on the light and she saw the look of surprise on his face. "Why so?"

"She seems so… needy, I guess is the word I'm looking for." She walked into the room as he shut the door and dropped her purse on the bed. "It can't be easy for her, running this place. Look at her just now, off to work at seven-thirty in the evening. Bruce can't be much of a manager or he'd take some of the weight off her shoulders."

"Being crude for a moment, I think she may be in dire need of a good hard shag," Martin said, coming up behind her and massaging her shoulders.

She giggled. "Shag? Who do you think you are—Mr. Powers?"

He laughed and turned her around to plant a kiss on her lips. As he held her close, she looked up into his handsome face, his sweet smiling blue eyes and thought again how lucky she was.

"Oh no, I'm much better than that!"

She pressed a fingertip to his lips. "You'd better believe it! Are you going to shower first or shall I?"

"You first, sweetheart." He gave her a half-smile. "It's a pity we can't take one together."

"Yeah, but that cubicle is no bigger than a phone booth."

He cuddled her, and she felt his growing hardness against her hip as he nibbled her ear lobe. "Maybe, but it'll mean we can be very intimate," he whispered.

She slapped his arm. "Go on, Marty! You go first." She gave him a lingering kiss. "We can be as intimate as you like later."

He winked and headed for the bathroom. She started to undress in the bedroom, laying her clothes neatly on the side table.

* * * *

In the stuffy warmth of her office, Laurel adjusted the brightness on the monitor and smiled as the younger woman's image became clearer.

"Bless you, Davy!" she said to herself, and glanced at the empty chair in the corner. The handyman had fixed a new mini-cam in guest cabin four that morning whilst the investigators were in town, before taking himself off alone to his own cabin. He hadn't emerged since, even for lunch or dinner. She sipped her bourbon and wondered, not for the first time, just what was bugging the man.

At least his new toy gave a pin-sharp image; she could easily see the firmness of Claudia's breasts as she slipped off her black lacy brassiere, and admired her long legs and tight butt as she stooped to pick up her panties. The brassiere fell off the bed and she guessed the young woman's bust to be around a C-cup. She felt a twinge of sadness and jealousy as she glanced down at her own bust, which had been heading south for a few years already. Raising her glass, she toasted the young woman. "Enjoy it while you can, shiksa; it won't last forever!"

* * * *

A psychic wave of low-level nastiness rolled down from the mountains to wash over the resort. It cost the spirit power to produce but combined with that of the other, it was the best way to find what they sought without tipping off those who might combat them. It stood in a position analogous to the mountain slope far above the main building and watched carefully.

That powerful human was down there, his psychic power throttled back. The spirit could tell he was distracted by something but didn't want to risk getting closer just yet in case he tripped some tell-tale warding. With any luck, the low level of negative energy he'd released would barely show above the background count generated by the resort's inhabitants.

With sharp eyes used to gazing on the paranormal plane, it saw the pooling of that negative energy in a few places along the slope beneath and amongst the buildings, and examined each in turn. Below, a fault in the underlying rock had made part of the hiking path weak. It held potential power but was useless for his purpose. There a couple started having a heated argument; possible. And there a guy dropped a heavy chair on his toe; nice but too short in duration. And there—Ah! Perfect! The spirit cast a last glance at the powerful psychic—still distracted—good! It gathered its resources and swooped.

* * * *

Dave lay on his bed, wearing only his pants, alternating sips of cheap sour-mash whiskey with tokes on a joint. Its glowing red tip was the only light source in the room. Away from the main building, with the lights on the footpath still resolutely refusing to work, it was pitch black outside the cabin and in. He scratched his crotch and thought of Laurel Kratzmer, alone up in her office. Under his hand, his cock lay flaccid. He thought of a yellow New York cab, and his cock gave a twitch. He sniggered and took another drag.

The cannabis, the booze and the pain relievers he was taking for his injured foot combined to create a very, very strange feeling. His brain felt furry; blue lights danced over his bare toes and nipples; a pale, ghostly shape of a man stood by his bed, looking down at him.

Dave squinted up at the figure and blew a stream of smoke right through it. The figure seemed to dissolve into the smoke, making it thicker, darker, and he giggled in a high pitch. Then the smoke stream reversed itself, flowing back past his pursed lips and into his mouth. Dave blinked—and his eyes shot wide open.

* * * *

Claudia finished her shower and walked out of the bathroom to find Martin lying on the bed, idly flicking through the cable channels on the TV. He'd draped the covers across his lower half, and was idly scratching his broad, hairy chest.

"Why do guys always find the need to scratch themselves?" she asked the air.

"Because we're the only ones who know where the itch is," he retorted, and laughed.

"Oh, don't be too sure about that!" she said in her best, huskiest voice. "I'm sure I can find plenty of itchy places on your hunky bod I can scratch."

He stretched out a hand. "Come here and start looking."

She pulled the fold of the oversized towel from between her breasts and let it fall to the floor, stepping out of the pile with dainty precision and twirling for him. He pursed his lips in a long, low whistle, and she giggled to see the bulge spring up beneath the covers.

"Hey! Before you deploy the artillery, remember—touch and be touched only for now, okay? We can take our time; let things build before I take you inside me. We’ve got plenty of time," she purred.

"That's fine by me!"

"Wait one." Fetching her vibrator from her case, she set it down on the bedside cabinet. "That's for later," she said, and stepped up to the bed.

She lay down upon it slowly, reaching out to brush the dark brown hair from his eyes. Martin tossed the remote control aside and slipped his arms around her, drawing her down and closer to him. She felt his warmth, the tickle of the hairs on his chest against her breasts. And then his lips were on hers, tongue slipping inside to seek out her teeth and tongue.

"Mmmmmm!" she said, sliding back the covers to reveal his manhood standing tall and proud. "I'm glad to see I have your attention."

"Absolutely!" His strong fingers caressed the curve of her breast, running around it, and along the fold beneath. She cupped it and offered him her nipple, and he bent his head to take it between his lips, sucking it into his mouth greedily.

She stroked his head, and kissed it, her eyes half-shut, savoring the feel of his lips and tongue and teeth as he suckled and nibbled upon her. Her pussy was soaking wet, and she looked forward to taking him inside. They could have fucked in the boathouse but she didn't regret delaying her physical pleasure until now. It would make her enjoyment all the greater. And she'd been sincere when she'd told Martin his pleasure was hers. There were more ways than one to enjoy the company of the loving, caring man she held in her arms.

"Now me to you," she whispered, pushing him gently away.

Obediently he lay back, and she kissed him on the brow, the nose, his eyes, lips and chin, working her way steadily down. She explored his chest with her fingers, pinching and tweaking his nipples and she nibbled and sucked at his pectorals. Martin's hands roamed over her back, up and down the ridge of her backbone, and stroked the hollow of her back.

"You've got such smooth, soft skin right here," he murmured, his fingers stroking the spot.

"I'm glad you like it," she whispered, and, bending her head, trailed her hair over his face, throat and chest, working her way downwards, lower and lower.

Taking his cock in her hand she eased back his foreskin, revealing the luscious purple bulb, so big and hard with her man's blood. A trickle of pre-cum ran down and over her knuckles, and she licked it off with dainty dabs of her tongue, her eyes upon his all the while.

"Take me in your mouth," he said, his voice strained with lust.

She obeyed, dipping her head and engulfing his head with her lips. With strong, smooth movements, she drew her lips and tongue up and down his shaft, pausing to lick along his perineum until he groaned and writhed on the bed. Martin's skin wore a fine sheen of sweat, and his face was a mask of mingled pain and pleasure.

"I can't…hold…much longer!" he managed to gasp.

"Okay, lover," she said, gently releasing his cock. "Pleasure me now." She retrieved the vibrator, switched it on and gave it to him. "Down here." Holding him, she rolled onto her side, and then her back, settling herself beside him. "Go ahead."

He slipped down the bed, rubbing his firm body against hers sinuously. With hands and fingers and lips and tongue, he stroked and kissed and licked and teased a path down her body until her skin felt on fire.

"Oh yeah, baby!" she gasped, as his tongue dipped into her navel—and he slid the vibrator over her belly and onto her pussy.

Using long delicate strokes, he used the softly buzzing dildo to work magic on her pussy lips until she gasped and clutched his hand. "Slower, baby; much, much slower!"

"Like this.?"

"Oooh God, yes!"

She spread her thighs wide, giving herself totally to him, letting him work her like a virtuoso as she squeezed and pinched her breasts and nipples. He lowered his head, and she felt his hot breath on her wet, vulnerable pussy. A spasm shot through her, followed by another, and another, until he touched the vibrator to her clit.

"AAaaahhhhaaaAAHH"

Orgasmic fire exploded through her, seeming to tear her nerves out by the roots with pure energy. Her back arched, and she gripped the bed as she lost all conscious thought for a few precious moments.

When light and reason crept back from the corners of her mind Martin was kneeling astride her, his cock in his hand, pumping it hard as he gazed down at her. "Yes, baby, that's it!" she cooed, her hand reaching for the vibrator. "But don’t cum yet, Marty! I only want you to do that inside me.”

“Will that be okay?” he gasped. “We’ve no rubbers and you’re not protected.”

“I checked my calendar, Martin. I’m safe. Oh, Godddd!”

Hot juice soaked her fingers and her labia sizzled as she slid the vibrator between her legs. The sensitive nerves fired up once more. Her breasts felt hot and swollen as they jiggled in time to her fingers' frantic movements, and her ears began to buzz and hum as her blood surged.

Martin grunted, on the verge of coming but he held back somehow. She slid the vibrator like a violin bow across her clit and screamed as orgasm bore her up and away once more.

When the mists cleared, she saw he was kneeling, ready for her. Without further ado she spread her legs and straddled him. It was the work of a moment to pull him inside and then she was riding him, feeling his cock thrusting up deep inside her, skin to skin, nothing between them at all. All the slow build up came to a climax now for them both. Martin gave a great roar and rose on his haunches, pushing up inside her and she clung to him, feeling his cum spurting within as brilliant fire burst in her mind.

* * * *

"Oy veh!"

Laurel was glued to the image on the monitor, her fingers frantically working the dildo between her legs in unconscious time to Martin's jerking, shuddering figure. With her stockinged feet braced against the desk, her chair was as far back as it would go. Her panties—big, sensible ones tonight—lay discarded over the empty chair. The long, battery powered dildo was all she'd get tonight, and she was making it work.

Martin shuddered one last time, and the couple collapsed onto the bed. Claudia wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight, her face the picture of happiness. Laurel came, her orgasm forcing itself from between clenched teeth as she strove to cum without making too much noise.

Wet from sweat and exhausted, she sagged in her chair. Suddenly all the false passion and voyeuristic thrill went out of her and she was left panting, feeling horribly depressed. Having to fuck without making a noise brought to mind her teenage years and her secret fumbling in the bedroom above the parlor—with or without a boyfriend—as her parents entertained the Rabbi and the Rabinowitzes a few feet below.

With an effort she drew the dildo from her pussy and held it up. The thing was streaked with her juice, and went on buzzing until she swore and threw it across the room. It lay now somewhere on the floor in the darkened room, out of sight but still buzzing. Deep sobs welled up in her chest, but the idiotic sound turned them into snorts of self-mocking laughter.

"Who the hell am I trying to kid?" she asked the empty room. "Damn, but I'm getting too old for this shit!"

Taking a couple of tissues from her purse she wiped herself before reaching across the desk to turn off the computer. Tossing the wadded tissues into the trash can she picked her panties up off the other chair and stooped to put them on. It was only then, as the whirr of the computer cooling fan died away that she noticed the arrhythmic thud of footsteps coming along the passageway outside the office.

For a second she froze, thinking of the strange figure she had seen the other night. The thudding feet drew nearer, and she relaxed. "Stupid woman!" she told herself. "There's only one pair of feet that can make that sound around here."

Tossing the panties to one side she smoothed her skirt down, went over to the door and opened it. "Come on in, Davy," she called. "You're just in time. Maybe this night won't be such a wash-out after all."

The familiar figure opened the door and stepped into the office. She hadn't bothered to turn on the light. Backlit by the passageway lights, it was hard to make out his face as he stood and stared at her. She shaded her eyes with her hand as she peered at him, noting he wore nothing more than his pants. When she saw his eyes she felt a chill run through her body that had nothing to do with the sudden coldness that filled the room. The man who stood in front of her looked like Dave but had the eyes of a stranger.

You're not Dave! she thought. What the hell?

Before she could move, he clamped a big hand over her mouth and forced her backwards. Dave was normally strong but tonight he seemed unnaturally so. Her muffled scream gave way to a muffled yelp of pain as the backs of her legs collided with the edge of the desk. She toppled backwards as Dave leaned into her, one hand still over her mouth, while the other scrabbled at her skirt. In the darkness his eyes seemed to burn with an unholy light as he glared down at her. A toothpick jutted from his lips as he sneered at her.

Terror gripped her heart and she felt her bladder relax, adding shame to her fear as she wet herself. His weight crushed her against the desktop, forcing her legs apart, scattering items far and wide as she struggled. She felt her skirt being yanked up about her waist—then his cold fingers were on her pussy.

The cold touch and the sense of violation restored a measure of control to her mind, and it demanded she fight back against this stranger. Scrabbling frantically about the desktop with her free hand for a weapon, her fingers closed upon her heavy leather purse. It was still open from when she'd retrieved the tissue. For once she blessed her oversight and slipped her hand inside.

Dave fumbled with his pants, still glaring fixedly at her. She glared back, her fear beginning to turn into anger and determination. Fingertips questing, she felt and discarded item after item as he dropped his pants and she felt his cock against her pussy. She clamped herself as tight as she could but Dave gave her a feral grin and began to enter her—just as she touched the small cylinder she'd been searching for and grasped it.

The tip of her forefinger fell automatically into the guidance slot put there for just such a purpose and closed upon the small button. Snatching the cylinder from the purse, she brought it up, aimed it straight in his face and pushed the button.

The mace spray hissed, driving a high-velocity stream of stinging vapor into Dave's eyes. He screamed, the sound issuing strangely from his mouth. She had just enough savvy to close her eyes to avoid the back blast from the spray, and with strength drawn from some primitive reserve, she forced him away from her.

She ran for the door, wanting only to escape, to leave the office and seek help before Dave—or whoever he was now—recovered and came for her again. Yet something still held her back, made her hesitate in the doorway. This was Dave, she thought; the same big, accident-prone lunk who shared her loneliness and her bed. Looking back, hovering on the verge of flight, she saw him on his knees, fists jammed into his eyes. What she saw next nearly finished off the rational thought she'd won back.

A pale shape seemed to ooze from Dave's body, surging up and above him in the stuffy, urine-reeking air of the office until it hovered there, glaring at her with inhuman eyes. A stinking wave of malevolence emanated from it and knocked her back into the passageway, her hand over her mouth, gorge rising in her throat. Giving up any thought of staying, she ran. Only one name was on her mind now.

* * * *

"Martin!"

He came abruptly out of a half-doze, his head against Claudia's breast, and stared at the door. Someone hammered on it fit to break it down.

"Martin, it's me, Laurel! Open up, Goddamnit!"

Claudia came awake, blinked, cocked an ear and swore. "Is that Laurel?"

"So it seems." He slid off the bed and fumbled for his robe.

"If she's looking for a threesome, tell her we're not interested," Claudia muttered, pulling the cover over her head.

He padded over to the door, unbolted it and opened it a crack. "Laurel? What's wrong?" he asked, peering out.

She pushed her way inside, slammed the door and leaned against it, panting hard. Her face was chalky-white, her eyes wild.

Claudia stuck her head out from under the covers and stared at her in amazement. "What the hell?"

"You…you've got to help me!" Laurel gasped. "It's Dave—or someone. He attacked me!"

He came awake in an instant and glanced at the door. "Is he chasing you?"

"No!" She pressed her hands to her face and rubbed it vigorously. "I don't know. He… I left him in my office." She looked at them with pleading eyes. "There's something really strange going on! You're the only ones I know can help me!"

"Okay." Pausing only to bolt the door again, he took her by the arm and guided her to the chair by the dressing table. Kneeling alongside her he clasped her hand. "Take a deep breath, let your nerves settle, and when you're ready tell us what happened."

Claudia wrapped the cover around herself and fetched a glass of water from the bathroom. Laurel took it in her trembling hands and sipped.

"Feel better?" Claudia asked. She knelt at Laurel’s side and put her arm around the older woman's shoulders.

"Yes, yes, thanks." Laurel took a deep breath, closed her eyes briefly. "I was working in my office, just near finishing, when I heard someone outside in the passage. Dave came in, and he attacked me!" She turned a bewildered gaze on them. "But I swear it wasn't really him! It seemed like someone else!"

They listened without interrupting, Claudia glancing at Martin from time to time as if to gauge his reaction.

"That's when I ran for it," Laurel said. "I'm sure it was a ghost I saw, riding in or around Dave. So I came to find you."

"What do we do, Martin?" Claudia asked as Laurel sipped more water.

He looked down at himself. "Get dressed, to begin with; it's cold out there."

"Okay," Claudia said, looking around. She picked up her panties. "Where's my brassiere?"

"Under the bed," Laurel told her, gesturing with the glass.

"Thanks," she replied, fishing under it and drawing out the black lacy garment. "What do we do when we get over there, Martin?" she called as she went into the bathroom to dress.

"This is no time for half-measures, darling," he said grimly. "From what you say, it sounds like Dave has been possessed. Laurel, I think you'd better stay here."

She put the glass down on the dressing table, slopping some of the contents over the rim in her haste as she stood up. "No way! You're not leaving me alone! I'm coming with you." Claudia looked at her with raised eyebrows. Laurel flushed. "Look, let's be practical. Dave needs help. It won't hurt to have someone he knows there with you. Besides, I feel responsible."

He weighed her up. In the minutes spent in the warm and rational surroundings of the plain cabin, Laurel had recovered most of her former poise. Behind her, Claudia nodded agreement.

"Okay, then," he said. "Let's get going."

* * * *

He led the way slowly down the passage toward the office, holding his pocket-size electronic and magnetic resonance detector up so he could see the reading. The red LED glowed brightly, showing background count only. Claudia and Laurel followed, their combined footsteps setting up a quiet susurration as they walked.

His perception spread far wider than the physical bounds of the walls, floors and ceilings that surrounded him. On the psychic plane he sniffed the wind and scanned the nearby cover for signs of an ambush. There were none, but he kept his defenses ready—just in case.

As they neared Laurel's office he got the first intimation of psychic activity. Holding up his hand he slowed and stopped.

"What's wrong, Martin?" Claudia whispered, coming up alongside him.

"Can you smell it?"

She sniffed the air and wrinkled her nose. "I smell something; it's not pleasant."

"I got so scared I peed myself in the office," Laurel said in a wretched voice, and plucked at her skirt.

"It's not that," Claudia said kindly, patting her arm. "This smells like—I don't know—over-ripe cheese? Or an unwashed body. It's a kind of sour smell."

"That's ectoplasm," he said. "It's a protein-based substance many spirits use to manifest. They can summon it from thin air." He checked the instrument again. "It's funny you should mention cheese. At one time fake mediums used regurgitated cheesecloth to produce a similar effect to ectoplasm."

"Ewww!" Claudia wrinkled her nose. "That's gross."

"Oh yes." He sniffed again. "It's fading now. Sometimes it leaves a residue, but I doubt we'll find that tonight. Laurel, you're right; something manifested itself near here."

"You believe me now?"

He looked at her. "I didn't doubt you from the first," he said. "Let's go."

Tucking the device into his pocket he approached the door to her office. Cautious to the last, he peered around the doorframe and scanned the room. "Dave's sitting on the floor," he said. "His eyes are closed and he's still breathing." A sonorous snore rolled out of Dave's lips. "More than that—he's asleep."

"Why, the little rat-fuck!"

Laurel made to push her way into the room but he held his arm out and stopped her. "Wait, Laurel. If he was possessed, this needs a careful approach."

Sniffing the air, he stepped into the room and looked around. The surface of the desk was in disarray, matching Laurel's description of the struggle. A pair of panties lay on the floor by a chair, along with a small red-striped aerosol can. He picked it up and inspected the label. "'MACE spray—For self defense only,'" he read aloud.

"That's what I zapped him with," Laurel said from the doorway.

"I've never heard of a possessing spirit being driven off by this stuff before," he said, and set the can down neatly on the edge of the desk, avoiding the damp area of the surface and the rank smell coming off it. "What's that buzzing noise?"

Laurel started. In the dim light she looked flushed. "It's…it's the computer fan, I think it's out of alignment or something," she said quickly. Martin glanced at the blank screen. "The machine's still running; I just turn the screen off to save power."

Martin was distracted when Dave snored again, his head lolling to one side, a trail of drool running from his open mouth onto his bare chest. A toothpick hung loosely from the corner of his lips. Martin removed it as he knelt alongside the man to examine his face, and snapped his fingers several times. "Dave? Wake up."

Dave opened one bleary eye and looked at him with a blank expression. Martin could smell the alcohol on his breath. "Do you know where you are?" he asked gently. Dave looked from him to Laurel, and back again. "Do you know where you are, Dave?" Martin pressed.

This time Dave seemed to think about the question more seriously, for he looked up and around. "The office." His voice was thick and heavy, as if he was drugged.

"Correct." Martin looked back at the others. "Turn on the light, please."

The fluorescent light flickered, came on. Dave screwed his eyes up and rubbed the back of his hand across his brow. "What the hell happened, man?"

"I think you were out of it for a while," Martin said. "What was the last thing you remember?"

"My cabin," Dave mumbled.

"What were you doing there?"

"Drinkin'. Thinkin'."

He belched, and his breath was noxious. Martin drew back and fought the urge to fan the air. "Did anything happen that seemed weird?"

"Lots o' things." Dave fixed him with an eye that resembled a poached egg floating in red wine. "I was stoned, man. Y' see things, y' know?"

"Dave, I warned you about that!" Laurel said.

Dave waved his hand and struggled to sit up straight. "Yeah, yeah; don't hassle me, Laurel." He put his head in his hands and groaned. "Man, but I'm on a downer!"

Laurel came into the room and stooped to look at him. Martin sensed a degree of nervousness in her stance, as if she was ready to run at the slightest hint of danger.

He stood up and looked around. "Laurel, I think it would be a good idea to get Dave back to his cabin and make sure he's settled for the night. He should be okay for now. I'll do a cleansing of the place to ensure nothing can get at him again." He touched her arm. "For your sake and the sake of completeness, I'll do the same for your cabin and this office."

"Thanks." She looked down at Dave. "Are you sure he'll be okay?"

"Get him off the drink and the drugs, Laurel. The nastier types of spirit tend to home in on those with weak wills and addictions to narcotics or drink." He looked down at Dave, who stared back with a bemused expression. "Clean him up, get him to stay clean, and he'll be okay for life—and after."

"Okay." Laurel looked down at Dave and frowned. "We'd better get him back to his cabin, I guess."

"We need to make a detour to the kitchen," Martin said.

"Are you hungry, Martin?" Laurel blinked at him with surprise. "Couldn't it wait for a while?"

He smiled and waved his hand. "No, I need a packet of dried sage. If Lenny's as good a chef as you say, I think we'll find some in his stores."

Laurel looked set to question him further but Claudia laid a hand upon her arm. "Don't ask," she said. "I've been with Martin long enough to know there's always method in his madness."

* * * *

Martin had to support Dave for most of the way back to his cabin, with Claudia and Laurel lending a hand to open doors and negotiate stairways. The smell of an unwashed body in such close proximity made the gorge rise in his throat but he contained his feelings. It was with a great deal of relief that they reached the cabin.

Like all the other cabins, the outside door opened onto the main bedroom. A rank, sour smell flavored with more than a trace of cannabis greeted him as Laurel pushed the door open and turned on the light.

Blinking away the water that sprang to his eyes, he managed to dump Dave on the unmade bed. "Dear gods!" he said, stretching to work out the kinks in his back. He looked around. "How can anybody live in a stew like this? It needs more than a psychic cleansing!"

Dirty linen was draped over most surfaces. Used polystyrene cups and the odd china plate lay scattered on the floor. Parts of the grubby carpet on either side of the bed were thick with ash.

"It's a pit!" Claudia drew a tissue from her pocket and held it over her nose.

"Dave's a straight guy when you get to know him." Martin noticed a defensive look cross Laurel's face. "I'm going to have to talk to him about getting this mess cleaned up, though!"

"Either that or burn down the cabin and start again," he said tersely.

"Not a bad idea!" Claudia said, her voice muffled by the tissue. "Martin, can you do the cleansing before we catch something?"

"Yes, no problem." He managed to ignore the smell as he let his senses expand. "There's a trace showing that something evil was here. It's gone; I'd better ensure it doesn't come back."

"What can we do to help?" Laurel asked. "Do we need to chant, or something?"

"No." He drew a polythene bag from his pocket. "All I really need is a quantity of dried sage and something to burn it in."

The two women glanced at one another and back to him. "Burn?" they said in unison.

"Oh yes. When burned slowly, sage smoke makes a great purifier."

Laurel rolled her eyes. "Okay, I'll buy it. Burning sage is nothing compared to what I went through tonight."

"It'll be a marked improvement on the smell in here!" Claudia said.

* * * *

Martin found a shallow tinfoil take-out tray amongst the litter near the bed along with two reasonably clean polystyrene cups and washed them out in the bathroom basin. Drying the tray thoroughly with a strip of toilet paper, he filled one of the cups with water and returned to the bedroom. Dave kept a small disposable lighter on the bedside table which Martin appropriated, noticing as he picked it up the remnants of joints stubbed out in the ashtray by the bedside light. The reek of burnt out cannabis resin hung heavy in the air by the bed.

Taking the bag he sprinkled a generous heap of the dried herb into the tray. A quick trip outside provided a small quantity of damp soil, which he scooped into the remaining cup. Clearing the junk from the dressing table, he placed the tray in the center, the cup of water to the right of it, and the cup of earth to the left.

"This should do the trick," he said, carefully igniting the heap of sage.

"If you say so," Laurel said, looking on with an amused expression.

He winked at her and blew gently on the sage to encourage it to smolder. Soon, the fumes from the aromatic herb were fighting tenaciously with the rank odor of Dave's squalor.

Martin half closed his eyes and held the tray up before him. "I invoke the powers of air, earth, fire and water, and summon them to our aid. I invoke the cleansing power residing in the sage and summon it forth to combine with the elements to purify this place of all evil."

Claudia watched carefully, her attention alternating between Martin and the objects of ritual on the dressing table. To her mind the scene resembled nothing more than an altar, with Martin presiding as the priest. At first she wondered if it was sacrilegious, but a tingling sensation that crept around the back of her neck and up to her ears told her it was far from being so.

The cabin seemed preternaturally quiet. She could hear Laurel's breathing, hoarsened by who knew how many cigarettes. Dave snored on, a low discordant rumble. Martin's voice dropped in volume and pitch but she could make out the occasional word of Erse, the language of Old Ireland, which he'd used to effect on the first encounter she'd ever had with a hostile spirit back in an alleyway in New York City. Not for the first time she wondered how he'd acquired his command of the language. It was something else to discover about her new love.

A faint radiance seemed to grow around his body and she stared at it wide-eyed. Not entirely believing her own eyes she blinked and shook her head. When she looked at him again the aura seemed to have disappeared. The wisps of smoke curled in the air and drifted toward the ceiling, where they were caught by small currents of air and swirled into eddies and still fainter wisps. The scent filled the cabin, and she felt the sense of oppression which had lain upon her spirits ever since she'd entered the place lift gradually.

Martin brought the chant to a close, finishing with the words "Blessed be!" A small shock zipped through her nerves, so quick as to make her think she'd imagined it. A glance at Laurel showed the older woman blinking and looking confused. Claudia knew then she hadn't imagined it. Dave had stopped snoring. His face looked calm in repose.

When she looked back at Martin he was examining the room, his gaze questing all around. "That did the trick," he said with satisfaction. He rubbed his hands and looked at them. "Now, we'll cleanse Laurel's cabin and the office then call it a night."

Laurel smiled and stood up. "Well, I don't know what you did there, Martin, but I sure feel a lot better." She looked at Dave almost wistfully, and draped the bed cover over him where he lay. "Dave looks out to the world."

Martin stifled a yawn and picked up the tray and the bag of sage. "More important, he's out of bounds to the next world," he said.

"Then you can do me the same service," Laurel said, heading for the door.

Martin turned to pick up the two cups but Claudia beat him to them. They were very light and when she glanced in them a much stronger thrill shot through her. They were completely empty. When she looked up at Martin his expression was totally neutral. Then he winked and, without saying a word, he turned and followed Laurel out the door.

* * * *

It was much later by the time they returned to their cabin. Claudia watched Martin as he moved slowly about the room, undressing with less than his usual care. The odor of sage smoke emanated from his clothing.

"You're dog-tired, honey," she said, taking him by the arm and guiding him to the bed. "Sit down; I'll finish undressing you."

"Thanks," he mumbled, obeying.

She pulled off his pants and socks, and, after persuading him to raise himself a little, his underpants. His cock nestled upon his thighs, totally limp. "Poor little feller!" she said, giving it a tender kiss.

He gave a tired chuckle and stroked her hair. "How did I manage without you all these years?"

"I've no idea, Martin." Reaching up she kissed him. "I wonder how I managed without you, honey. Everyone needs a special someone in their life; I'm really glad I've got you." She hesitated. "Mom was surprised at how quickly we fell for each other, babe. She's worried our relationship might burn out all the quicker because of it."

His smile was tired but radiated warmth, and he reached out to brush her hair away from her face, his touch tender. "It won't happen, darling," he said, his voice full of confidence. "We're meant for each other." He touched his chest over his heart. "I feel it here, Claudia. Remember that fight we had with James Cloverdale's spirit on the rooftop of the hotel? You saved my life and my soul back then; you couldn't have done so without there being a link between us. Both my life and my soul are yours, my darling; forever."

Tears sprang to her eyes but she made no effort to hide them or wipe them away. "I love you, Martin!"

"I love you too, sweetheart, now and always!"

She managed to smile. "You're weird, even frightening at times, but over everything, you're a good man, Martin Grey."

"Gosh, thanks!" He yawned around a smile. "I do try."

Kissing the tip of his nose, she followed it with a long lingering kiss on his lips. "You surely do," she said softly, stroking his jaw.

She got to her feet and made to drape his underpants over the back of the chair—and paused. Running the fabric through her hands she looked at the chair, and then down at the garment. They reminded her of something. "Martin?"

"Hmmph?"

She glanced back at the bed. He was lying stretched out, one arm across his eyes, his chest rising and falling slowly. Draping the underpants over the chair, she patted them and then joined him on the bed.

"It can wait," she whispered, and kissed him on the cheek.

His lips made a small puckering movement in response, and then he fell fast asleep.