Against a Brightening Sky (19 page)

That pull grew stronger after he met Delia, and continued to strengthen the longer they were together. Isadora maintained that once he believed in what Dee was able to do, Gabe was able to believe in his own fledgling abilities. He'd stopped questioning why his hunches paid off so often and concentrated on the results.

He paid attention to that feeling now. The Russian waiters in Mullaney's union were frightened by stories of other immigrants who'd fled the Bolsheviks turning up dead in New York and Seattle. They were afraid the same thing would happen here.

The body upstairs made that fear reasonable and real. Rigaux fit that pattern, and Alina's aunt and uncle did as well.

Gathering the names of the people in Seattle and New York, and discovering how they'd died, went near the top of Gabe's list. It occurred to him to ask the same question about Chicago, especially after finding a Chicago PD badge at the scene of the riot. Knowing who the dead were and where they'd come from originally might lead to connections here in San Francisco.

Before anything else, he needed to talk to Dee and Isadora. They'd know if he was truly dealing with some aspect of the occult, or two men doing everything they could to frighten a vulnerable young woman.

His gut knew the answer. His head needed to hear it from Delia.

“You've been a big help, Maggie.” Gabe cleared his throat and buttoned his overcoat, a signal to Dodd that he was ready to leave. Randy tucked his notebook into an inside pocket. “Now I'm going to ask another favor. Let me assign two officers to go with Trula and the others. Street clothes, no uniforms. I'd feel better with my men watching over her.”

Maggie hugged her satin pillow tighter, peering at him. “I'll take you up on that offer. Thank you, Gabe.”

He didn't get far down the hallway before she called out.

“Gabe, I have a question too.” Maggie stood in the center of the hall carpet, the red pillow dangling from her hand. She tipped her head to the side, smiling softly. “It's been almost six years. Where have you been keeping yourself?”

He fingered his wedding band, remembering the day Delia put the plain gold ring on his finger, and held up his hand. “At home with my wife. I think you'd be surprised how well the two of you would get on together. Delia's an amazing woman.”

Maggie's smile wavered, but she recovered quickly and laughed. “As long as you had a good reason for staying away. Perhaps I'll test your theory of how well we'd get along and invite your Delia to lunch.”

“I'll tell her.” He touched the brim of his hat and smiled. “Take care of yourself, Maggie.”

Gabe strode down the corridor toward the front door, giving Randy Dodd a list of people to contact and information to track down. He knew if he hurried, he'd find Delia and Isadora with Sadie. Going to the Fitzgerald house to find them would give him an excuse to check up on Jack as well.

The prospect of seeing his wife in the middle of the day, no matter what the circumstances, made him smile. Working a big case involved long days that often stretched into long nights. His job kept them apart far too much, and he'd take any stolen moments with Dee he could grab.

Gabe was in the patrol car and driving away before he remembered Maggie. He hadn't given a thought to looking back to see if she'd watched him leave.

That was for the best. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

 

CHAPTER 10

Delia

Dora insisted on driving the two of us to Russian Hill for our visit with Sadie. I could have gotten there easily enough alone, either by walking or calling a cab, but Isadora was adamant about the two of us arriving together.

In all honesty, I was relieved not to be on my own. Our friendship was strong and I had faith Sadie would take the bad news in stride, but I couldn't help but worry a little. The feeling that I'd left matters until far too late made the whole thing worse.

Isadora was late as usual. I roamed up and down the walk in front of our house, unable to stand still and wait. The day was warm for late March, the sun doing its best to burn away all memories of winter. Gauzy clouds trailed across the sky, too thin and unsubstantial to build up against the East Bay hills. Daffodils and hyacinths bloomed along the front fence, their sweet scent filling each passing breeze. The plum tree in the center of the lawn was fuzzy green with new leaves, a sure sign of spring, while crocus and the first Johnny-jump-ups added splashes of color at ground level.

My cat, Mai, sat in the lower branches of the plum tree, watching me pace. Her tail swished impatiently, each side-to-side motion accompanied by loud
mrrowl
s and small chirps voicing her opinion of the two of us being outdoors. Mrs. Bauer next door peered out her front window as Mai's yowling grew louder. Most cats loved chasing butterflies or stalking beetles through the grass. Mai much preferred sleeping in sunbeams on the sitting room carpet.

“You are a disgracefully spoiled and lazy creature, Mai. I'd leave you outside to teach you a lesson, but I can't have you tormenting the neighbors.” I held my arms out, catching her as she jumped down. Mai tucked her head up under my chin, purring loudly. “If you insist on wasting a glorious day, I'll put you inside. Just don't complain later.”

I hurried up the front steps, well aware that Dora would be careening around the corner any moment. Mai stopped purring the instant I set foot on the porch, twisting around to stare at the front window. She growled deep in her chest, ears flat to her head and tail bushed out.

At first I thought the cat was growling at the princess ghost, something Mai hadn't done before. The princess sat in the corner of a windowpane, calm and still, her image clear and unchanging as always. A troop of faceless haunts frosted the glass around her, faint and so dim as to almost disappear against the curtains on the window. But I soon realized Mai wasn't focused on the princess or the memories that accompanied her. I shifted the way I viewed the world, searching for whatever had upset Mai.

I almost missed the phantom standing in the shadows at the end of the porch, and if not for the cat, I might not have noticed him at all. That I had seen him pulled him further out of the realm of the dead, almost as if my regard gave him permission to cross into the world of the living. His image became clearer, more solid and real looking.

He was dressed strangely, wearing loose dark trousers and a loose long-sleeve dark shirt, but no shoes or socks. Thick, dark hair hung well below his ears, curly and untamed as his full beard. His dark brown eyes were strangest of all, changing as I watched from filmed and dim, to shining bird bright and strangely alive in a way I'd never seen in a shade before.

I understood why Mai had reacted so strongly. He wasn't just one of the restless dead wandering the world, or a simple ghost looking for rest. I wasn't sure he was a ghost at all. Letting him linger would only increase the danger.

Simple words have enormous power in the spirit realm, a power made greater by a practitioner's will. The rhythm and cadence of the words, and the number of times those words are repeated, amplifies that power even more. All the will I could summon and a great deal of what I'd learned from Dora went into my attempts to banish this ghost.

“Hear me, spirit, and believe. You weren't summoned by me nor called to cross my threshold. I won't welcome you here.” I held tight to the cat, instinct or something in the spirit's eyes warning me not to let her go. Mai's tail beat against my side, but she didn't struggle to get down. She sensed the danger and meant to protect me. “Know I say this for now and forevermore. I banish you three times, spirit, and order you to go. Leave my house and never return. Leave me and mine in peace. Leave and return to where your body rests. Go now!”

The spirit's image wavered, but soon recovered and stood firm. His smug smile revealed stark white, perfect teeth, and made him appear even more menacing. Still safe in my arms, Mai snarled and lashed out with a paw. The smile faded from the phantom's face and he took a step back.

I blinked and the ghost was gone. He'd shaken off all my efforts to make him leave, but he appeared to be afraid of my tiny gray cat. Mai sniffed the air, her green eyes searching for any trace of the spirit. I knew he was truly gone when her ears came up and she started purring again.

My hand shook unlocking the front door. I kissed the top of Mai's head and let her inside. She stalked off in the direction of the sitting room, tail held high in victory.

I'd brought the cat home with me when she was a tiny kitten, an unexpected gift from the most powerful sorcerer in Chinatown. Mai was said to descend from a line of ghost-hunting cats. From the very first, she'd lived up to her heritage, chasing away spirits with ill intent and keeping Gabe and me safe. She'd outdone herself today.

The princess and her cohort of faceless memories had vanished from the front window. All my instincts told me that their disappearance had nothing to do with either Mai or the way the new spirit had left so suddenly. The princess came and went as she chose. My actions had little or no effect on her.

I locked up the house again and went back to waiting on the curb. Banishing the memory of the strange phantom's appearance and forgetting the gleam in his eyes proved impossible. Between princesses trapped in silvered glass, faceless memories, and Alina's guardian lurking in the background, I was already chin deep in spirits I couldn't explain. That they were all tied together, even this newest spirit, was undeniable. The question I couldn't answer was how.

Dora arrived a short time later, and the reason she'd been so firm about driving became clear. Her new car had arrived.

The car was a perfect fit for Isadora. Sleek, with long, low, flowing lines, the yellow 1919 Roamer was every bit as racy and sporty as Dora had claimed. With the rumble seat folded up as it was now, the car looked to be the perfect two-passenger roadster. She'd invested in the company on a lark, drawn to their slogan, “America's Smartest Car” and that the company's sales brochures quoted the poetry of the Irish playwright Oscar Wilde. The car was fresh from the factory, a tangible return on her investment.

She'd given up wearing her driving goggles and matching hat, replacing them with a plaid newsboy cap stuffed down over her blond hair. A hat like that would have looked ridiculous on me, but on Dora it was very flattering. The colors made the blue of her eyes brighter and brought out the roses in her cheeks. Randy's eyes lit up each time he saw her wearing the cap, and I suspected that was a large part of the appeal.

Dora leaned across the black leather seat and opened the door, greeting me with a bright, triumphant smile. “Hop in, Dee. Then tell me what you think of the car.”

Unlike her last car, the Roamer's door latched securely on the first try. I ran a hand that trembled only a little over the smooth leather of the seat and the polished wood dashboard. Chrome trim gleamed in the sunlight. “I can see why you wanted this car so badly. It's every bit as beautiful as you said. I assume the motor is equally as impressive.”

“I wouldn't have taken the trouble to have one shipped here otherwise. The man who delivered the car said it would easily do forty miles per hour on the open road. He assured me that every part of this car is top of the line.” She frowned and peered at me, the triumphant smile replaced by concern. “You look absolutely ghastly, Dee. Please tell me this isn't a result of being nervous about speaking with Sadie.”

“Of course not. Sadie is my oldest friend. She might be angry with me for a time, but things will work out between us.” I plunged on, as certain Dora would help me find an answer as I was that Sadie would stay my friend. “But it appears that I haven't reached my full complement of bizarre spirits. Another one tried to take up residence on my porch just before you arrived. I can't even say for sure if he was a ghost or something else entirely, but he made my skin crawl. The cat came to my rescue or he'd still be lurking in the shadows. He was much more afraid of Mai than of me.”

She looked away, fingers wrapped tight around the steering wheel. When Dora turned back, she was oddly calm. “Tell me about what you saw as we drive. Sadie's expecting us.”

We didn't have far to go, and for once Dora drove at a reasonable speed, pausing at intersections longer than usual and not careening around corners. Even so, the time passed swiftly. I told Dora everything I remembered, from the ghost's bare feet to the wild gleam in his eyes. She remained silent until we pulled up and parked across the street from Sadie's house.

“I have a few theories about your phantom, Dee.” She tapped a long red nail against the steering wheel and crinkled her nose in distaste. “You're not going to like them.”

I managed a laugh, shaky and weak given the circumstances, but a laugh nonetheless. “Of course I won't like them. That's never stopped you from telling me in the past.”

“You'll enjoy this even less, but I thought it only sporting to warn you in advance. What you saw most likely wasn't a ghost, at least not in the way we normally think of ghosts.” Dora tugged off the driving cap and shook out her hair. “This is related to what I told Melba about raising illusions to frighten people. What I didn't tell her is that people have been known to take their own lives to escape images they thought were real. Necromancers in particular are very fond of perverting the power of death that way, or shaping ghosts for their own purposes. This one failed because you have the ability to see through the illusion to the person who created it.”

“A necromancer in San Francisco? Surely you're joking.” Lodging even a token protest helped ward off my own revulsion for a moment longer. I needed that time. Dora stared in that calm way that meant she expected better of me. I waved my protests away and surrendered. “All right, you're not joking. Was the crazed gleam in his eye an illusion as well?”