Medium Rare: (Intermix) (22 page)

“And you think that’s what hurt your mother?”

Rose nodded. “Probably.”

“Is there someone we could call? Someone who might be able to do something?”

“A wizard? Like Harry Potter?” She shook her head. “I don’t think it’s that simple, unfortunately. We do need help, but I don’t know who to ask.”

“Skag?” Evan ignored the warning bell at the back of his mind telling him he was perilously close to being certifiable.

Rose shrugged. “He didn’t tell me before—he kept putting me off whenever I asked him. But maybe this will change his mind. You said he called you?”

“I think so.” Evan pinched the bridge of his nose. His eyes felt like his lids were made of sandpaper. “It was a dream, though, so who the hell knows what was really going on?”

Her gaze met his, her eyes luminous in the faint light at their side of the hall. He moved his fingers to her face, running them gently along her cheekbone. “I’m so sorry, Rosie. About what happened before. I was an asshole. I let my prejudices get in the way of what I should have been thinking about.”

The corners of her mouth edged up slightly. “What should you have been thinking about?”

“You. How I feel about you. How we feel about each other.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, her breath soft and warm against his palm. “What do we do now?”

Helen whimpered slightly, moving her head against Evan’s knees.

“We find out what happened to your mom, and we fix it.”

After a moment, she lowered her head to his shoulder, closing her eyes. “Works for me.”

Chapter 24

Leaving her parents at the hospital made Rose’s stomach hurt. Her father looked so miserable staring at her mother’s marble-cool face, like he’d aged a decade in the hours he’d been sitting beside her bed. She’d called her brothers and knew they were on the way. She also knew she’d have a much harder time leaving if she was still there when they arrived.

Her house looked the same as always when she got there with Evan—porch light glowing in the slightly misty air, broad inviting gallery with its slatted wooden swing, fully warded door designed to keep out evil beasties. Apparently, it didn’t work as well as advertised.

Evan followed her up the front steps along with Helen and Lenore. “Do you call him or something?”

“You mean Skag?” She dug her keys out of her purse. “I’ve never had to call him. He just shows up when he’s ready. With any luck he’s waiting inside.”

“Was he here when you found your mother?”

She paused, keys in her hand. “I don’t know. I didn’t pay attention to anything except my mom. I didn’t see him, but I didn’t exactly look, either.”

She pushed the door open and stepped to the side to let the animals in first. Helen stood in the entry hall, whimpering. For once she didn’t seem interested in charging through the house to her food bowl.

“It’s all right,” she lied. “Just go to the kitchen.”

Evan stepped into the living room. After a moment, Helen followed him, her tail tucked firmly between her hind legs. Lenore stayed perched on the banister.

Rose followed behind Evan and the dog, then stood staring around the room. They were alone—no hint of Skag. Something felt profoundly different, but she wasn’t sure exactly what it was.

“Is he here?” Evan glanced around curiously.

“No.” She shivered, drawing her arms more tightly around herself.
Emptiness.
For the first time since she’d moved in, the house felt completely empty.

Not just empty. Abandoned.
Terrific. Just when she needed him most, Skag had apparently decided to go on an extended vacation.

“He’s gone. I don’t know where or why. I’ve never had this feeling in the house before, like there’s nothing here.”

“What do you mean ‘gone’? For good?”

“I don’t know. But he’s not here, and I don’t have a good feeling about it.”

“I don’t think anybody’s in the mood for good feelings right now.” He wandered slowly around the room. “When exactly did Alana disappear?”

“Alana?” She rubbed a hand across her forehead, trying to make her sluggish mind snap to. “Right after the séance. A couple of weeks ago, I think.”

“After you came to work for me?”

“Maybe. It was around that time, anyway. You wanted me to find out what I could about her, and we went to Augie’s.”

“So all of this happened after we started investigating William Bradford?”

“Alana contacted you after you started the investigation, or, anyway, after she found out that you were investigating.”

He sighed. “I wish I knew if that was significant.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know if it’s significant or not, but I’ve got that appointment for a private consultation with Bradford tomorrow night.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “No way are you going to that one on your own.”

“I don’t think they’ll let you in. It’s a private consultation.”

“I don’t give a shit what they say, I’m going with you. If you can’t contact Skag, can you contact somebody else? I think we need more information before we go in there. We need to know if Bradford’s involved in what happened tonight, and what happened to DuBois and Cerrone.”

She shivered. The room had never seemed this cold before.
Bereft.
“I don’t know. I’ve never tried to contact anybody but Skag.”

“But you’re a medium.”

She sighed. “I’m a medium, but I’m not a very experienced one. Skag did all the spooky stuff. I just handled the human end. I’ve never even been to a séance, except for that hokey one with Brenda Cerrone. I always told Skag I wouldn’t do it.”

“I’ve been to a lot of them, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a real one with a real medium. We can set up the way they usually do and try it, though.”

She shivered again. She had a bad feeling about this, but then she had a bad feeling about everything right now. “Okay.”

He pulled Grandma Caroline’s gate-leg table away from the wall. “We’ll need a couple of chairs. And maybe a candle so we can dim the lights. Most of the mediums I saw had a tablecloth, too, but I think that was more to mask what they were doing under the table than because the spirits required it.” His mouth twisted slightly on “spirits.” Maybe he wasn’t quite as ready to believe as he thought.

She dragged a couple of chairs from the dining room, placing them at either end of the small table. “Any reason you don’t want to just use the dining room table and chairs?”

He shook his head. “That table’s too big. We need to hold hands.”

She found a vanilla spice candle in the bathroom and brought it out. Not a great scent for a séance, but who knew—maybe they’d find a ghost who liked lattes.

He lit the candle, then turned off all the lights except for the lamp in the corner. He sat at one end of the table, motioning Rose toward the other end.

She sat facing him, trying not to feel stupid.
You’re a medium, toots, this is what you do.
“What do we do now?”

“From here on in, we’re winging it. We hold hands and see if anybody’s interested in talking to us. Or anyway, that’s how the other mediums do it. Who the hell knows if that’s how it’s supposed to really work?” He reached for her hands, clasping them lightly on top of the table. The warmth of his skin was oddly reassuring.

Her own hands felt like ice. “What should I do?”

“Close your eyes and relax, I guess. See what happens.”

After a few minutes, Rose was afraid that what was going to happen was that she’d fall asleep. The warmth of his hands, the faint vanilla spice scent, the semidarkness all combined to lull her into something like drowsiness. Even as she ordered herself to stay awake, her eyelids began to droop. Maybe if she just let go, let herself slip into a quick nap, she’d wake up refreshed and ready . . . to . . . go . . .

The feeling that slid down to her stomach was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. It was as if her entire body had gone to sleep and awakened barbed. Pinpricks danced across her arms, her hands, her shoulders. Her hands tightened convulsively on Evan’s.

“What?”

She shook her head. For a moment it felt as if the hair on the back of her neck was standing straight up. The prickling chill moved down her spine, sending her pulse into overdrive.

“Rose?” He sounded worried.

Something cool and damp brushed against her cheek and she fought the urge to let go of his hands so that she could bat it away. A light danced on the edge of her vision. She took a breath and turned slightly.

A dim ball of light hovered in the corner of the room. Somewhere she could hear Helen whining with what sounded like fear. Her shoulders tensed. If a hellhound was afraid, it was probably a good idea to be cautious herself. The light shimmered for a moment, then began to stretch, becoming longer and thinner, resolving itself slowly into the dim outlines of a body.

“Do you see that?” she gasped.

“See what?”

“Never mind.” She watched, fascinated, horrified, as the dim outlines became more firm, recognizable now as a person. A woman, wrapped in something. A blanket? She swallowed hard. A shroud?

The woman’s arms moved and she realized it was a cape. Something medieval-looking but oddly familiar. The color was dim in the darkened room, but Rose could see enough to guess. Pink. Maybe orange. Maybe . . . red.

“Holy crap,” she breathed. “Alana?”

The ghost turned slowly in her direction, and she saw the woman’s face for the first time. Slightly plump. A knot of frizzy curls on her forehead. Surprisingly ordinary-looking—but a little like the publicity photo from the Nightmare. She flickered, sort of like Skag did when he was upset about something.

“Are you Alana DuBois?” Rose asked more firmly.

Alana’s mouth opened and closed, like a television set with the sound turned off.

“I can’t hear you,” Rose called. “Try again.”

“Who the hell are you?” The voice was still faint, but apparently Alana was irritated enough to be heard.

Evan’s hands squeezed hers painfully. “Sweet mother of mercy, I can hear her.”

“Can you see her?”

“No. Just hear.”

“Who the hell are you, I said?” Alana’s voice was considerably louder now.

“My name is Rose Ramos. I’m a medium.”

“Oh. Like me?”

Rose blew out a breath. “Sort of.”

“Where am I?”

Rose frowned. She was getting the uncomfortable suspicion that Alana might not realize her particular position in this get-together. “You’re in San Antonio. King William.”

“King William?” Her lips spread in a smirk. “Never did a séance in King William before. So what do you want? Just the standard kind of thing?”

“What do you remember about what happened to you?” Evan was turned in the general direction of Alana’s voice.

Alana gave no indication that she’d heard him. “You work for Garcia, too?”

Rose shook her head. “I work for myself, but I know Augie.”

“Cheap son of a bitch.” Alana sniffed.

“Ask her what she remembers,” Evan said more urgently.

“Do you remember what happened to you before tonight?”

Alana stared at her. “What do you mean? When?”

Okay, she was definitely a little out of the loop. “Where were you before you came here tonight?”

For the first time, Alana looked less than confident. “Before? . . .” She drew her cloak around her a bit more snugly. “I was . . . you know . . . waiting.”

“Waiting where?” In spite of everything, Rose felt curious all of a sudden. Skag had never been too clear about what went on when he went to the Other Side.

“In a room.” Alana stared at her, her mouth opening and closing. “Oh God, I remember now. The light. Somebody called my name and then there was light. And it . . . hurt.” Her eyes were suddenly full of tears. She hugged herself around the waist, trembling.

Across from her, Evan leaned forward. “It’s all right. It’s okay. Help us and we’ll find them. The ones who did this to you.”

Alana didn’t look up.

“She can’t hear you,” Rose hissed. “I think she can only hear me.”

Alana straightened slowly. “Is somebody else here?”

Rose nodded. “Yes. He’s okay. He’s with me.”

“And you’re a medium. So this is a . . . séance? A real séance?”

Rose nodded again, more slowly this time.

Alana stared at her. “I’m a ghost in a séance?”

Rose licked her lips. “Yes. We . . . called you, I guess. We need your help.”

Alana stared a moment longer, then her mouth edged up in a wry grin. “I guess it figures. I spent my time pretending I could talk to spirits. Only right that I should end up as one myself.”

Evan blew out a breath, shaking his head. “Okay. Tell her who I am. Ask her why she called me about Bradford.”

Rose gritted her teeth. Even without Skag, she still got ordered around. On the other hand, she wanted the same answers herself. “The other person here with me is Evan Delwin, the writer. We’re investigating William Bradford. You called Evan and left a message before you . . . left . . . about Bradford. What did you want to tell him?”

Alana loosened her grip on the cape, so that it fell smoothly around her shoulders again. “I knew him when I was a kid. Willie. Willie Bradinski then. He changed it to Bradford. I kind of kept track of him ’cause he was doing so well. Wrote him a couple e-mails, only he never got back to me.”

“Did you speak to him after he moved down here?”

She shook her head, sending the hood sliding back from her face. “I went to one of those shows of his—expensive stuff. I was gonna go see him afterward, talk about old times, you know.”

Right.
Rose guessed that conversation would probably be more about how Bradford could help finance Alana’s career than about how much she missed Millersville. “So did you get to talk to him?”

“I was going to, but then when he came out for the show, I saw it wasn’t Willie.”

“Wasn’t Willie?” Evan’s forehead furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“You mean it was a different person using Willie’s name?”

Alana shook her head again. “Not exactly. I mean, it looked like Willie. The voice even sounded like him. But when he talked, got up and walked around and all, it wasn’t the same. It was like somebody else inside Willie. A Willie puppet or something.”

“Could it have been? . . .” Rose paused, trying to figure out how to put it. “People change when they get successful sometimes. Could he maybe? . . .”

Alana’s mouth drew up in a grimace. “No. I’m not just talking about changing. Even if you change, some things stay the same. This was completely different. Somebody else pretending to be Willie but looking just like him. Like he’d had . . . plastic surgery or something.”

Evan leaned forward. “Ask her if she’d noticed any changes in Willie before.”

“Was this the first time you noticed something different? I mean, had you noticed anything like that when you saw him on TV?”

Alana shrugged. “I didn’t watch him on TV all that much. I mean, I couldn’t see that he was doing anything different from what the rest of us did. But he was making all that money. Didn’t seem fair.” She grimaced.

“So you don’t know when exactly he might have changed?”

She shrugged, grudgingly. “He was still Willie on the TV. Mostly anyway—it’s sort of hard to tell on television. But when he got down here and started doing those live shows of his and those ‘consultations’—he changed then.”

Rose turned to Evan. “Anything else?”

He shrugged. “I guess you could ask her if she knows who did this to her.”

Rose shook her head. “No. She doesn’t. And I don’t want to make her think about it.” She turned back to Alana again. “I have one more thing to ask you. I need to find someone on the Other Side. Could you ask around and see if he’s available?”