Grave Danger (36 page)

“
Thank you,” was all she could get out of her
mouth. She’d never been nice to her. Every time they’d crossed
paths in the main house she’d pretended to ignore her. Now she was
giving her a gift because she felt bad that Chas had broken her
hookah pipe.

“
You’re welcome,” Clarissa had answered before
getting up to walk to the main house. Before she could get too far,
Margaret Ann stood up, her neon pink gloves on her slim
hips.

“
Wait,” she’d called out, seeing Clarissa turn
back towards her. “Why?” she asked the simply question, but meaning
so much more with its utterance than she at first was
aware.

“
Why?” Clarissa quoted back at her. She tilted
her head then, a peculiar expression coming onto her pale face.
“You’re not the horrible beast you think you are, Margaret Ann.
You’re a human woman who loves her husband dearly and only wants to
keep her baby brother safe from people who would hurt him. I don’t
expect you to trust me yet and I don’t want the gift to make up
your mind about me either. I won’t let anything happen to
him.”

Then she’d turned away, leaving Margaret Ann to
wonder how incredibly frightening Clarissa was. Thinking back now,
Margaret Ann couldn’t come up with a reason why Clarissa wouldn’t
condemn them for the horrible creatures she knew they were. It
seemed a total contradiction to how a normal bokor would react to
one of their kind.

Now her brother was fully head over heels for this
woman. She couldn’t help but feel sympathy for his plight at trying
to find some way to make Clarissa recognize his affection for her.
The fact that was he even trying should be all that was required of
him, considering he didn’t know the first thing about dating; a
ghost woman at that.

“
You’re thinking too hard about it. It’s not
about the perfect gift or perfect timing or location. If it’s based
in sincere affection and love then those things are just the icing
on the cake. What sorts of things have you thought about
already?”

“
Well,” Corrigan began. “I’ve already asked
Debora and Helen. Debora said that she’d like anything except dish
towels and plants. When I asked Helen she suggested I make a
charitable donation in her name or buy a star and name it after
her. Why buy a ball of gas that’s likely already burned out and
doesn’t exist anymore and all you’re seeing is the last effects of
it? I thought about buying her a new back-pack. Hers is old and
falling apart.”

“
A back-pack, huh?” she said, "It certainly is
a practical gift." Margaret Ann grinned at seeing Corrigan’s sour
expression at her comment.

“
I don’t know,” he growled angrily, “I can’t
exactly buy her a car she can’t drive or a ring or bracelet that’ll
fall through her skin if she’s not careful. Why are you smiling
about this? It isn’t funny.”

Margaret Ann sighed, suppressing her smile for a
moment. “You men are all the same. You make it so difficult on
yourselves. Just give her something that reflects your deepest
feelings. I prefer gifts that are made by the giver rather than
something purchased. Maybe you should think about that.”

Sudden inspiration hit Corrigan like a hammer to the
nail. He knew exactly what he’d do for Clarissa to show her what
she meant to him. It had been there all along. Every day she’d come
over to the house, she’d always look to his canvases, making
comments as she looked through them. As a preference he did
landscapes. But now he wanted to do a portrait, his first in a long
time.

“
Thanks, Maggie,” he said, using a nickname
he’d only heard his sisters use for her.

She kissed his cheek at the use of the endearment.
“You’re most welcome, Cor,” she answered back, using Helen’s
endearment for him.

“
I’ll leave you to your gardening.” Corrigan
stood then. Making his way back around to the main house he saw
Xavier as he came out of his front door. Just as his brother
reached for his sword Corrigan stopped him. “Not today,
brother.”

Xavier made a pained expression. “You say that
almost every day now,” he grumbled, his accent more pronounced than
usual. “If you do not train you will become as soft as the
fantasma.

¿Cómo puede mirar usted su ser flácido en el espejo,
el hermano? Xavier quipped, coming outside to face his much taller
brother. Which translated to ‘How can you stand to look at your
flabby self in the mirror’?

Corrigan looked down at himself. In his opinion he
didn’t look flabby at all. Actually he was quite the opposite of
flabby. He looked up to find a sword poised at his throat.

“
Usted ha llegado a ser lento en su vejez.”
You have become slow in your old age.

Corrigan only smiled a Cheshire grin down at his
second oldest brother. With a speed of a trained swordsman he
extracted the weapon from his brother’s grasp, turning it against
him in the next second.

Xavier looked up at him wide eyed. “Usted estafó.”
You cheated.

“
Xavier,” Margaret Ann called to her husband.
“Do not be a poor loser.”

Corrigan stepped back, returning the sword to his
brother, who took it back with an indignant snort at losing to a
much less experienced adversary. “Usted me desafiará otra vez más
tarde.” You will challenge me again later.

“
Of course,” Corrigan remarked as he left them
both. Xavier looked to his wife inquiringly, wondering what the two
of them had to discuss. His wife shrugged her shoulders, refusing
to give any hints away.

Xavier walked over to his wife, looking down at her
kneeling in the soft earth of her garden. She made a fetching sight
in her old coveralls and windblown hair. He’d never get over how
completely different she was from his first wife. A woman who
despite her beautiful figure and rich property had been lacking in
genuine affections. She’d been a cold bitch in the end and now lay
even colder in her grave.

But Margaret Ann was the love of his
existence. He called her his
hermosa flor
amarill,
his beautiful yellow wildflower. She was
unpretentious and natural in her loveliness, a warm breath of
summer breeze that had melted the hardened heart of a man who had
known little of true loves embrace. Now that he knew, he’d do
anything sure of murder to keep it.

“
Did you notice the mark upon his wrist when
he was here? He didn’t try to hide it from us.” Xavier pulled his
wife up from the ground, brushing away a stubborn piece of her hair
that forever wanted to stick in her face.

“
I know, mi corazón.” I know, my heart. “I’ve
seen that mark before on Ambrose. He had a nasty wound several
years back and Maude asked me to take a look at it.” Margaret Ann
had attended one year of medical school before her death. “He had
the same mark upon his left shoulder blade. It is a kind of brand,
but when I asked him what it was he said it was an old tattoo and
refused to say more. It is a mark of death, I’m sure.”

Chapter 20-

Corrigan was in his attic room when he felt the
change in energy that always heralded Clarissa’s presence near him.
He was digging through a box of various paint tubes set on a table
he’d found at a garage sale when he felt her cool arms wrap around
his stomach.

She held herself against him like she was trying to
absorb his flesh into her soul. At once he felt the light inside
him grow. He was becoming dependent on that light and it left him
feeling bereft and empty when she was gone from him. Like the
moment when he had woken up to find Clarissa had gone home after
he’d rudely fallen asleep on her. At first he thought she was still
in the room somewhere, but after looking around and calling her
name several times he realized that she had gone.

A black cloud had lain to roost over his head at
that knowledge. Until he’d caught sight of a scrap of paper tucked
under a glass vase he used to practice light and shading. Clarissa
had used one of his calligraphy pens to jot down her parting
words.

Dear Sweet Cor – (If Helen can call you Cor, so can
I)

You looked tired so I decided to let you sleep.
Please don’t think I’ve abandoned you. I programmed my cell phone
number into your phone, by the way. I can see it’s an old model and
it has a really bad battery life. You should think about getting a
new one. But I guess with your family cell phones aren’t really
necessary.

Don’t be too harsh on them. I can already see how
much they love you and I hope now you can see that as well. Tell
Helen she has the heart of a lion and that Trueman is a real
genius. Also Debora is so clever and I can see she could put anyone
to shame, maybe even her husband. Margaret Ann thinks she’s just a
wild free spirit on the loose, but she has an amazing sense of
honor and loyalty to the people she loves. Xavier may be stuck in
his glory days as a soldier but it’s his ability to forgive his
past mistakes that is so encouraging to me. Ambrose is almost scary
in the way he governs over all of you. But I can see his heart is
full of love when others in this world seem more consumed in hate.
Maude is much the same, her diplomacy and very presence make people
want to listen to what she has to say. And finally bad boy Chas who
doesn’t like me much now, but who would be right there beside you
walking over hot coals if you asked him to.

I’m rambling on - I know it. I couldn’t help but
want to know a little bit about them (I didn’t invade too much, I
hope) and I want to know more about you. I can’t tell you much
about myself. I don’t remember. As you can already guess I’m new to
this ghost thing. But one day I hope to remember my past, but more
than that I’d like to see if I have a future. That sounds so cliché
and downright cheesy. But it’s painfully true. Maybe you’d join me
in it.

I’m running out of room on the page and your dog is
starting to make odd snoring noises. I’ll leave this note as is,
ramblings and all and say goodnight and happy risings. I’ll see you
tomorrow night.

Love,

Clarissa

He’d truly fallen in love with her then. A woman
who’d been shown the worst side of his family and still she had the
ability to peel that one experience away and take a better look at
who they were as humans. She was a miracle he didn’t deserve. Her
bokor abilities had helped, but not once had she used them to
defend herself or to make threats against them though most of them
had been on the verge of being unpleasant, if not outright nasty to
her.

“
You always smell like the beach,” Clarissa
murmured against the back of his shirt. She nuzzled his spine, her
hands making tiny circles over his abdomen. It made his eyes lose
focus for a few seconds at the sensation of her hands and body so
close to his.

She came around him to see his hands grasped tightly
around a tube of paint. The label read Blanc and almost all of the
contents were all over his hand and on the table. The euphemism
wasn’t lost on either of them.

Corrigan hastily reached for a roll of paper towels,
in the process knocking over a bottle of linseed oil. He pulled it
up in time to save about half of it. He’d have to go and buy more.
Shopping was less of an adventure and more like a means of
torture.

“
I’m sorry,” she said, helping him mop up the
mess on the table. “Did I surprise you?”

She knew darn well she hadn’t surprised him. He saw
that little flicker of mischief in her blue eyes and knew she was
playing him. Clarissa made a swipe over his hands with the paper
towel, making delicate sweeps till she could get most of it off.
Then the paper towel fell away and it was only her fingers playing
over the warm flesh of his hand.

Clarissa smiled up at him, her heart in her eyes –
his heart in her eyes. He bent down and captured her smiling lips.
It was imperative, born of necessity and endless hours of her
absence. Readily she welcomed him to her.

“
No,” he said after several blissful
uninterrupted minutes. “Let me go take this paint off before it
sets.” As he walked away from her, he said over his shoulder, “I’ve
got something for you, so don’t go anywhere.”

Walking back from the bathroom which was down the
stairs and at the end of the hall, he came across his brother,
Chas, as he was leaving Ambrose’s office. Ambrose he knew was off
showing property to proprietors of a chain of furnishing companies
who were looking to branch out into a new city. Ambrose had set the
meeting on his side of the city and later they were to travel over
to see the new store location. The corporate suits for the company
were of course not of the typical human variety, but then few in
this world really are.

There was no reason, however, for Chas to be in his
office.

Chas gave Corrigan a nod of greeting, but refused to
explain his presence in the main house or in Ambrose’s office. He
brushed past him without making eye contact as if he were trying to
keep something from Corrigan by avoiding looking at him. Even his
thoughts were scrambled fragments so much so that Corrigan could
only guess that Chas was agitated and upset about something, but he
couldn’t pin-point the reasons behind those feelings.

“
Chas,” Corrigan shouted after his brother as
Chas was almost to the staircase. He refused to turn around. There
was a moment of pause in his step before he continued down the
stairs and was gone.

“
Cor,” Clarissa was on the steps, coming down
from the attic. “What was Chas doing in Ambrose’s office just now?”
Chas still wouldn’t speak to her and Chas was Corrigan’s best
friend. It hurt to know she was the obstacle that separated them.
She truly knew how Yoko Ono felt right now.