CnC 4 A Harvest of Bones (29 page)

Read CnC 4 A Harvest of Bones Online

Authors: Yasmine Galenorn

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Women Sleuths, #Mystery Fiction, #Single Mothers, #Occult Fiction, #Washington (State), #Ghost Stories, #Women Mediums, #Tearooms

BOOK: CnC 4 A Harvest of Bones
3.97Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
“What are we missing?” I shouted, exasperated. “Why won’t this work?” As I spoke, a gust swept through and extinguished the candle. The room plunged into darkness. My stomach knotted as I backed up toward the door, White Deer following suit. As we stumbled out into the fading afternoon, the light blinded me, and I moaned, resting my head against the wall.
“I have a splitting headache.”
White Deer shook her head. “I can think of only one reason that the spell won’t complete. The veils between worlds haven’t parted enough. Tonight, when they open fully, we can finish this.”
Angry, frustrated, I slogged my way through the mulch, trying to keep my footing. I forced my way up the stairs, cold and tired.
“Emerald, are you okay?” White Deer put her hand on my shoulder, stopping me.
I shook my head. “I feel horrible. We just left them. Sure, Brigit and Mab are spirits, but they want to be together. And Sammy—how can I just leave her? I can’t take this much longer.”
White Deer put her hand on my shoulder. “We’re doing what needs to be done. Our timing’s just off.”
I glanced back at the basement. “Tonight, you say?”
“Yes,” she said. “Tonight, it will be over and done with.” She spoke with such conviction that I almost believed her. She saw me wavering and added, “Trust and keep hope, Emerald.”
A distant crash of thunder sent me shivering. I sighed. “So what do we do?”
“Go back to your house,” White Deer said. “And tonight, we come back to finish what we started.”
With a deep breath, I glanced at the sky. The clouds were gathering thick and fast. “Okay, but there’s a storm coming. If we don’t get Sammy tonight, I don’t think we ever will. She’ll be trapped forever.”
Fifteen
From Brigit’s Journal:
 
He’s gone upstairs to talk to them. No matter what happens, I refuse to cry, or to beg. We O’Reillys have our pride. I think I’ve forgotten that over the past two years. But never again. Either things work out here, or I return home. I’ll know in a few minutes which direction my life is going to take. I’m frightened.
 
 
“SO HOW DO we proceed tonight?” I asked. “Do we go through everything again? Or just show up and wait?”
White Deer slid into a chair. She closed her eyes, and after a moment, said, “I think, if we show up and follow our instincts, things will work out. I can’t see clearly, except the end—and I can see Samantha home with you.”
“I wish Murray could be here.” I liked White Deer, but Murray and I were closer, and she offered me more in the way of comfort and support.
White Deer glanced at her watch. “She’s planning on joining us. I wonder what’s keeping her?” She pulled out her phone. “I’ll give her a call.”
I nodded as the front door opened. “I’m going to see who it is,” I said, popping down the hall to find Joe coming through the door. He grabbed me up and planted a big kiss on my lips.
“Happy birthday, babe. What are you doing? I know what I want to do.”
With a grin, I untangled myself. “White Deer’s here, so put that thought on hold for awhile.”
He let out a loud sigh. “Okay, but tonight—you and me—your bedroom. After your birthday party.”
“Sounds good. Now, come say ‘hi’ and hear what we’ve been up to.”
White Deer was off the phone. “Anna will be here in a little bit,” she said. She waved at Joe. “Has Emerald been filling you in on this afternoon?” He shook his head, and we took turns telling him the latest.
“I wish there was something I could do to help,” he said.
I leaned my head against his arm. “Thanks, sweetie, but there’s nothing for you to do. It’s all up to White Deer, Murray, and me now.” I looped my arm through his. “You just take care of the party preparations. We’ll do the ghost hunting.”
Joe snickered. “Yeah, and get yourselves in trouble, no doubt. But, hey, I’d probably do a lot worse. Okay, I run the show here, and you run the show on the other side. I’m used to it by now.” He shrugged. “So put me to work. Harlow told me she’s bringing decorations and food. What should I do?”
“Could you pick up the kids from school and keep them away from the house for a couple hours? I don’t want them anywhere near this place while we’re exorcising those spirits. Unless I know Kip and Randa are okay, I’ll be distracted, and distractions can lead to trouble. Please keep them safe for me? I’ll take my cell phone and call you if we need help.”
Joe looked like he wanted to protest, but finally shoved his hands in his pockets. “Making sure we’re not in the line of fire, aren’t you? All right. But Emerald, promise me you’ll be careful. I want you in one piece when I come home.” His voice sounded as shaky as I felt.
I held up my right hand. “If things get too scary, we’ll pull back. I give you my word.” I reached up on tiptoe and planted a long kiss on his lips.
His arms slid around me and he held me for a moment, not speaking, not moving, pressed against me. I could feel his desire, rock solid against me, gentle and yet insistent. Then he let go and, without another word, took off down the porch steps. I watched him leave, then quietly went to the phone and put in a call to Randa and Kip’s teachers to let them know that Joe would be picking them up.
White Deer and I glanced out the window just in time to see Murray pull into the driveway, with Harlow right behind her. The light was fading and I could feel the shift as the veils began to open. After they trooped inside, I showed Harlow where I kept the Halloween candy, should any children come trick-or-treating, and then Murray, White Deer, and I took off for the lot. I glanced at them. “White Deer was right—the timing has shifted. I can feel it.”
Murray nodded. “Yep … the wind’s picked up and the spirits are walking.”
As we cautiously entered the lot in the growing dusk, a flicker of apprehension tickled my stomach. The entire area felt like it had torn itself asunder from the rest of the world. Old spirits lived here, and very few of them human. They had slumbered throughout the years until Joe and I decided to expose their secrets to the light. Now, we had to put them to rest for good.
White Deer pulled out her rattle. “Follow me. We’ll work our way from the outskirts of the lot this time, down to the basement.” I could feel her center, grounding her energy into the soil, letting it run deep into the roots. After a moment, she began to encircle the lot, praying softly in her native tongue as she shook her rattle with every step.
Murray and I followed, shoring up the energy, amplifying it. This was it, the big one. Now or never. A wave of protection began to emanate from our hands, and we pushed it out to roll across the lot, to encompass the shadows and crevices and niches left untouched by time for so many years. Striding as tall as the treetops, we forged our path, mist rising from our steps to swirl around our feet. Onward, we drove the clearing force through the lot, purifying and purging.
As we approached the yew tree, the conflicting forces began to play push-pull, a battle of pain against clarity. Over the years, all the trauma and secrets the land had seen had grown into a cohesive entity—without consciousness, and yet with a will to survive. And I knew, without a doubt, that this entity would act as a beacon for malign spirits, especially tonight. By waking up the lot, we’d opened a portal and now we had to close it.
White Deer continued her prayer as we moved forward. Every step was harder. For every inch we gained, the remaining energy grew more resistant, and yet we pressed on.
I caught my breath as we approached the stairs. There, in the basement, rested the heart and core of whatever had happened to Brigit. We might never know who’d killed her, but maybe we could put the past to rest, and she and Mab to rest along with it.
White Deer glanced at me. “It’s time to go down. Time to build the bridge and return everyone to their proper places.”
I nodded and started down the stairs. On the bottom step, I almost tripped, and splashed into the muck. One of the mildewing leaves flew into my mouth and the sour tang of decay hit my tongue. Spitting it out, I headed toward Brigit’s bedroom, Murray and White Deer behind me. There, inside the room, we could see Brigit, Mab, and Samantha, waiting for us.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s go.”
As we entered the room, the sound of a car door topside alerted us. “Who the fuck is that?” Frustration swept over me.
Murray patted me on the shoulder. “I’ll take a quick look,” she said, dashing up the stairs.
White Deer and I waited, poised on the brink between two worlds. Murray’s voice came drifting down on the wind. “You’d better come up here, Em … I’m not sure what’s going down.”
I shook my head, glancing back at Brigit. “Damn it. I’ll be right back. White Deer, stay here and keep an eye on things, please.” I raced up the stairs to Murray’s side. “This better be good—” I started to say, then fell silent.
A car had parked by the curb, and wandering through the lot, in our direction, were Brent and Irena. Irena looked nervous, and she was holding a flashlight. I rushed over to her side.
“What are you doing here? What’s Brent doing here?”
She flinched a little and I backed away. As irritated as I was, I didn’t want to scare her.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to come, but my brother begged me to. Dr. Ziegler called me today and said Brent was acting strangely, that he wanted to talk to me. I drove out there, and Brent begged me to bring him here. He was crying, saying he had to come home, and that it had to be tonight.”
I glanced at Brent. A luminous glow echoed softly in his eyes and his gaze was darting around the lot, looking for something. Or someone. And then, he saw the yew and broke away from Irena’s side as he began to stride toward it, his eyes focused on the tree. As if the present had embraced the past, I could simultaneously see both the Brent who had been a virile young man, and the Brent who was the broken old man I’d met in the institution. Like a double exposure on film.
He began to move forward again and Irena suddenly came to life, her voice stronger than I expected it to be. “Brent, you have to stop. There’s nothing left of her—she’s gone.”
Brent turned, a look of hatred splashed across his face. “Get out of here. I know where you put her! Nobody’s stopping me from going to her—do you understand? Nobody.”
He stumbled a little and Irena jumped forward to help him, but tripped over a root. She gave a little cry of pain as she fell. Murray raced over to Irena’s side and helped her up as I started toward Brent.
“Calm down,” I said in the gentlest voice I could muster. “Brigit’s not there anymore, Brent. We found her.”
He held up his hands, as if to ward me off. “Get out—leave us alone! I don’t need you, I don’t need any of you.
We
don’t need you.”
“Brent, that’s not true! I’m your sister,” Irena called out.
“My sister? Do you think I care? You’re just as guilty as Father was. You left me in that hospital all these years, hoping to keep us apart, but there’s nothing you can do now. I won’t go back, do you hear me? I’ll die before I let you take me back.”
Irena turned to me. “I have to get him out of here. This was a huge mistake. The doctor told me it might be, but I thought it would make him happy. But the doctor was right—he’s not in his right mind—”
The strength of Brent’s laughter echoed through the lot, and I knew, right then, that he had nothing to lose. “You’re right,” he said. “I
wasn’t
in my right mind, but now I am. So all of you get out of here and leave us alone.”
Irena straightened her shoulders and began to walk toward him. “Brent, listen to me. You need help. Let me take you back to my house—”
“No. Brigit’s here, I know she is. I can’t leave her again.” He drooped, wearing his anguish like a cloak of feathers. A sparkle of light glistened—a few of the corpse candles had gathered by the yew, but I seemed to be the only one who noticed them.
Irena grimaced. “Stop! Just stop. You know what happened, but you refuse to believe it now, just like you refused to believe it fifty years ago. Why can’t you let the past go? Don’t dig up ancient history. Brent. Quit blaming me. Quit blaming our parents. Brigit’s dead. Mother’s dead. Father’s dead. It’s been half a century. Can’t you let her go?”
Brent straightened his shoulders and began a slow march toward Irena. “You want me to let her go? Fifty years or a day, it doesn’t matter when you’ve lost the woman you love! You wouldn’t know how that feels, would you? You married your husband for his money. You married prestige and power, but you didn’t marry into love. And I paid the price for that, thanks to our beloved parents.” He spat out the words, one by one.
“You want to bury what Father did, just like he buried Brigit. Just like he buried all his sins with her body,” he continued. Irena began to back away, fear clouding her face. “Why not just sweep it under the rug, sanitize everything and pretend we’re still the social elite of the town? Can’t let anything soil our reputation, can we? Can’t let her blood stain our name. Can’t let anybody know what Father’s done. Well, it’s over!”
I glanced at Murray. Brent thought his father had murdered Brigit? Did that mean he had nothing to do with her death? Absorbed in what was going on, it suddenly occurred to me that he might try to hurt Irena. I jabbed Murray in the side. “We have to do something!”
She shook her head. “I want to hear what he has to say. I’ll jump in if he makes any move to harm her, but we’re finally getting some answers to a whole lot of questions about Brigit’s disappearance and death.”
Irena’s face crumpled. “Brent, it was an accident. You know that. She wasn’t supposed to die, but there wasn’t anything we could do back then, and there’s nothing that you can do now. She’s gone, Brent. She died a long time ago. Sometimes, people leave us. Sometimes, all our plans go crashing to the floor and we’re left with nothing but crumbs.” She held out her hands to him.

Other books

The Phantom of Nantucket by Carolyn Keene
Rork! by Avram Davidson
Naughty Wishes Part II by Joey W. Hill
Mature Themes by Andrew Durbin
Worth Dying For by Beverly Barton
Year of the Golden Ape by Colin Forbes
La jauría by Émile Zola