Beelzebub Girl (24 page)

I stepped in front of the camera calmly. "What is Martha's secret? Don't miss your chance to find out after a short break."

The screen turned blank. At the same time, several demon guards jumped on stage and seized Martha's arms, pinning her down.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Aunt Krista slip into the adjacent room, which had been specifically decorated for her handbag infomercial.

"The phones are going crazy," Ginny said. "There are so many callers, the lines will fry."

"You said no one would watch," Amber whispered.

I shrugged. "Who cares? You're famous. I've heard everybody wants to be on TV."

"You don't understand, Cass. Aidan will be so mad."

"He's just jealous because you're getting all the attention." I squeezed her hand. "Just tell him to suck it up. He'll get the chance to be a necromancer at the next paranormal race in five hundred years.

Until then, you get to be the star in the family."

The phone lines were down. Ginny was trying his hardest to sort through the chaos and fix the mess while Aunt Krista was really getting into her marketing. She'd been talking non-stop for at least five minutes, holding up this and that bag. I had no idea what she could possibly have to say about her ugly designs, but apparently it was interesting stuff because there was so many hits on her website the server couldn't cope. Of course, it could also be our worldwide viewers searching for another way to reach us.

Dad leaned over Martha, probably talking sense into her. After her vicious attack on Amber, I doubted there was anything sensible about Helen's mother, but the show must go on. We couldn't afford people thinking we were phonies.

"They didn’t see Martha, did they?" Theo asked. I shook my head, barely paying attention to her through all the chaos. "So, what they watched were scratches appearing on Amber's face. If I saw that on live TV I'd be freaked out."

I tapped a finger against my lips, thinking. "You're right. No wonder everyone's eager to call and talk to the necromancer."

"Ready, everyone?" Ginny yelled.

"I know where I've seen this guy before," Dad whispered.

"Your kitchen?" I peered at him, barely able to suppress my grin.

Dad shook his head. "No. I recently promoted him from guard to gatekeeper in Distros."

"I'm sure that's it, Dad." I rolled my eyes as he took his seat, then turned to Amber. "You've been doing brilliantly. We need you to continue with the show."

She nodded, jaw set. "No ghost's ever going to scare me."

"Let's go live then." I signalled Ginny to start before Amber could change her mind.

"Three, two, one. We're live," Ginny said.

I smiled into the camera. "Welcome back to Messages From Beyond The Grave. My name's Cass and this is Amber, our very gifted necromancer. Our last caller was Helen whose mother took a dark secret to the grave. Helen, are you still with us?"

The line crackled. "I am, Cass."

"Great. What did you say—"

"What happened to Amber?" Helen interrupted. "Did Martha attack her?"

I peered at Amber, unsure whether to tell the truth. Luckily, she made that decision for me. "She did, but I've got it all under control now."

Helen exhaled audibly relieved.

"Our viewers were enthralled. Why don't you tell the ones joining us now about your problem, Helen," I prompted.

"Martha stole a lot of money from people who trusted her. I want to know where it is so I can give it back." Helen's voice sounded more confident than before, as though being in the spotlight boosted her confidence as we spoke.

I nodded. "That's noble of you. Martha didn’t seem to agree though, which is clear from the scratches on Amber's face. Did we catch that on camera?" I peered around me with exaggerated movement, then tapped against an imaginary earpiece. "My team says we did. Well, let's see it in slow motion then."

Ginny signalled and the pictures of Amber being assaulted by an invisible force appeared on the screen.

"If that looked nasty on camera, imagine catching it all live here in the studio. That's one messed up, scary ghost, let me tell you that,"

I said as soon as I was back on. The audience nodded. Murmurs erupted. By now our viewers must be glued to the screen, not least because the programming in my phone kept them from moving.

"I would've done far more than that if you didn't stop me,"

Martha shrieked. For a soul who had just spent years dangling from chains in the ceiling, she sure was mouthy.

"How did Martha die?" I didn't ask because I wanted to know. It was more out of a need to wind Martha up because her rudeness was slowly starting to tick me off.

"She killed herself," Helen said. "Probably couldn't cope with the guilt."

"I didn't
kill
myself, you moron," Martha growled, tossing a burning candle on the floor. Luckily, there was nothing nearby that could catch fire. I grinned because the camera caught it all live as Martha continued, "The street was icy and I lost control of my car."

"Did you see that?" I stared into the camera as it moved from the candle on the floor to me.

"She's always been nasty," Helen said. "I'm not surprised she hasn't changed her ways in the afterlife."

Martha shrieked and jumped on the table, kicking at the candles around her. I peered at Dad, waiting for him to stand and do something, but he remained seated, watching the scenario with an amused expression, a glint playing in his eyes.

"That's enough," I yelled, scanning the air as though I couldn't quite see where Martha cowered. "Tell us where the money is."

"No." Martha shook her head, vehemently. A guttural sound escaped her throat.

"She said 'no'," Amber whispered, raising the dagger.

"What do you think you're doing with that?" Martha asked. "You can't hurt me. I'm dead already." With the back of her hand, she flicked our water glasses from the table. They shattered into thousands of pieces at our feet.

"She said I can't hurt her because she's dead already," Amber repeated.

"Stop repeating everything I say," Martha shrieked, hitting the table until it toppled over.

The audience gasped. For a moment, the camera focused on them, filming the fake shock and dread in their faces, then turned back to us. I got up from my seat and shook my head.

"Dear viewers, we clearly have a poltergeist entity on our hands. Amber will try to retrieve the secret and send it back where it belongs. I certainly don't envy the poor guy in Hell who has to deal with this day in, day out. Do you?" I cocked a brow. "Amber, it's your turn."

Amber narrowed her gaze. "Where's the money, Martha?"

"Make me tell you," Martha hissed.

"Force her to say it," Helen whispered into the phone.

The anticipated broadcasting hour was almost over and we hadn't even gotten to Theo's plea yet. Research said viewers usually switched off after sixty minutes. If we didn't hurry up, we'd lose people's attention. Obviously, I could just read Martha's mind, but I wasn't the necromancer here. The information had to come out of Amber's mouth. I shot Dad an imploring look. He smiled back.

"Don't make me send you back to Hell!" Amber warned.

Martha growled. "Where do you think I am, you moron?"

"Tell her," Dad said. His voice was silent, barely more than a whisper, and yet everyone's attention snapped to him.

I watched Martha gulp, eyes scanning the room for an escape even though she probably knew there was no way out for her. One snap of Dad's fingers, and she'd regret ignoring his request for the rest of her existence.

"Behind the fireplace, on the right hand side just above her head, is a loose stone. She'll have to squeeze in the thin blade of a knife and jiggle it about to be able to pull it out. The money's there,"

Martha said.

Amber recited the ghost's words calmly.

"We don't have a fireplace," Helen said. "Maybe she's not telling the truth."

"That can't be," Amber whispered, mortified.

I turned to Martha as I forced my way into her mind, pushing aside memories of poison and cold-hearted apprehension, of a slippery street in the middle of the night, and the unfortunate car ride that consequently killed her.

Closing my eyes, I pushed harder, fighting to get into those parts of her life she had been desperately trying to hide from those around her.

The house came into focus; a shabby thing at the outskirts of town, with a back garden that had never been tended and a weeping willow that had seen too many secrets. Inside, old clutter covered every available surface. It made sense. Martha liked to hoard things, and so she collected her husbands' life savings, robbed children of their inheritance and stacked them all away behind a brick inside a large fireplace with a marble sill. Years later, the house still looked the same except that a thin wall covered the once magnificent fireplace.

I opened my eyes and leaned toward Amber, whispering in her ear. She nodded.

"What? What did you say?" Martha asked, warily.

"Helen," Amber said, ignoring her, "the fireplace is hidden in the living room, behind the wall facing your brown sofa."

"Let me check," Helen said.

We waited in silence as she thumped into another room, what must be a portable phone transmitting the sounds of a door opening and knocking on a wall.

"It's hollow," Helen said.

I nodded at the camera. "You can kick it in."

The line crackled. We heard a few bangs accompanied by groans. A chair or table shifted. Something clattered to the floor.

"There's something behind it. Yes, the fireplace is here."

I shot Martha a triumphant look. She dropped down on the floor, sulking. If I had a secret as big as hers and someone forced it out of me, I'd probably be sulking too, but I couldn't quite bring myself to feel sympathy for her. What she did was wrong.

"Get a knife and start digging," Amber instructed.

Ginny signalled we had five more minutes. I turned to Amber.

"Didn't you say something about a message from beyond?" Amber's expression went blank. "Theo," I whispered.

"Right." Amber paused. The camera focused on her. "There's a girl, Theo. She wants her sister, Sofia, to know that she did something wrong and now she's in Hell, but the place isn't bad and she's safe."

I nodded, and she continued, more confident than before, "Sofia Murphy, if you can hear me, your boyfriend's the brother of the one who murdered Theo. He lied his way into your life with bad intentions. You must get away from him this instant and never see him again."

It wasn't good enough. If I were Sofia, in love with a man I implicitly trusted, I'd never believe a television broadcast trying to convince me otherwise. "Tell her something only she can know," I whispered.

Theo tapped a finger against her lips, only now coming to life.

"Let me think. When I was five years old, right after our mother's death, I thought I saw mum's face and bent over to peer into the fountain in the backyard of our old house, the one we had to sell because we couldn't afford the upkeep. I almost fell in, but Sofia caught my leg. We swore to never tell anyone."

The camera fixed on Amber echoing Theo's words. I hoped somewhere out there a girl called Sofia was watching and remembered the incident, thinking of her little sister who died too young.

"The brick's out," Helen said. "I can't believe it." She laughed.

"The money's here. There's savings bonds and deeds and what else not."

Ginny signalled we had only seconds before the hour was up. I smiled into the camera. "I'm glad we could help, Helen. We'll be back next week with more Messages From Beyond The Grave. Don't forget to tune in, same time, same place."

"That's it," Ginny shouted. "Well done, everyone."

I beamed at Dad who seemed impressed. I just wished Dallas were here to watch what a great job Amber and I did, but then he might not be so inclined to think we were still holidaying in Disneyland.

Dallas was awake and working when I arrived at the mansion. I found the office as I left it—a big mess. Countless sheets of paper covered every inch of surface. My notebook was switched on with yet more brainstorming ideas jotted down on virtual sticky notes for step two of our campaign, and empty cups littered the cabinet behind the desk because I hadn't yet found suitable replacement for Ginny. Even with a map, I doubted anyone could find their way around this place. I tiptoed around Dallas's chair and planted a sloppy kiss on my fiancé's cheek.

"So sorry I missed your big TV debut, babe. You should've woken me." He pulled me onto his lap, cupping my face in his hands. The sleeves of his black shirt were rolled up, revealing the tanned skin and taunt muscles of his forearms. A glitter sparkled in his honey eyes as he looked at me, making my heart skip a beat.

I moistened my lips. "No worries. You didn't miss anything.

Barely anyone watched."

"Yeah? I'm sure you were great." A lazy smile spread across his lips. "It'll catch up next time."

"Maybe."

He pulled me closer until our lips met. "Your aunt's staying over for dinner."

"Aunt Krista?" I pulled away, narrowing my gaze. "Why?"

"Don't know, but your dad said if you want to escape the visit from Hell, you'd better make a run for New York now."

"Why? What's in New York?"

"Your aunt Selena."

I took a gulp of his water to calm down, but my temper flared nonetheless. "He told you the location?"

Dallas nodded, brows raised. "You seem upset. What's wrong?"

"Well." I ran my fingers through my hair and started playing with a strand just to keep my hands occupied so I wouldn't pull out my phone and beam myself wherever Dad was to give him a piece of my mind. "What else did he tell you?"

"Nothing." Dallas regarded me. I could see he was curious just as much as I realised I was overreacting, but I couldn't help it. If I could delay Dallas finding out what Aunt Selena was like, I would stall for time. The later he met her, the better.