Adelaide Upset Page 9

  Eclipsys cocked a hip. “I read people,” she said, her fake accent giving way to a real one. She was from New York, mystery solved. “And that girl’s hearing wedding bells. She’s just looking for an excuse to say yes.”

  I started rooting around in Francesca’s purse, extracting a wad of cash. “Go back in there and tell her... tell her that the summer solstice is all about long days and short nights.” I waved my hand, turning impatient. “Make up something about the symbolism of it all. A long day signifies she’ll gain worldly comforts with marriage, but the short night foretells a waning intimacy. She won’t be happy with him for long.”

  Eclipsys was impressed. “You know, this could be a good line of work for you.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “Spouting bullshit is my art.” I pushed the folded bills into her hand. “This should cover it. Is Nancy still with a client? I want to see her.”

  Eclipsys took the money and shrugged. “She’s probably upstairs by now.”

  “Keep Francesca occupied for a few minutes.”

  “Are you going to confess you’ve gotten yourself into some trouble?” Eclipsys probed, referring to Francesca’s comment.

  “Mind your own business,” I threw over my shoulder, already hurrying to Nancy’s apartment.

  Nancy answered right away, my hand still raised mid-knock. She didn’t look happy to see me, and her feelings confirmed it. Disappointment. Upset. Acceptance.

  “Is this a bad time?”

  “I did a reading this morning,” Nancy said, waving me over the threshold. “I was hoping it didn’t concern you.”

  “I can’t stay. My friend’s downstairs with Eclipsys and she doesn’t know...” She wasn’t listening. “What was in it, the reading?” It must have been bad. Nancy was distracted, her thoughts engrossed and agitated.

  “It was the devil card again,” she explained. “I had a client scheduled for this afternoon, a regular. Her husband was abusive and she left him a while ago. I thought it was a warning for her.”

  “Are you really allowed to tell me all that?”

  Nancy shrugged. “I’m not a therapist. There is no confidentiality clause.”

  “Well don’t worry about the devil card. I think I know who it means, I... met him. And look, I’m still alive. All is well. Don’t worry about it, Nancy.”

  “No,” she said firmly, giving her head a vehement shake. “It’s not the same card, well, it is, but the last time I looked at it I saw the traditional meaning. This time I just saw a monster, like in the picture, horns and claws.”

  “Are you saying a different devil is after me now?”

  “Yes,” she confirmed. Hurrying to add, “But that’s not all. The reason I was convinced it was a warning for my client was because I saw the devil being invited in. I thought it meant she would take her husband back, a reconciliation of sorts. But when I warned against it she was appalled by my suggestion. She hasn’t spoken to him, or even seen him, and a divorce is pending. The reading wasn’t for her.”

  My hackles were up; the word invited having set off several red flags. Nancy didn’t mean devil, she meant demon. “Well, I’ve got to go,” I said, hurrying to get away.

  “Wait! Why did you come?”

  I stopped halfway down the stairs, turning to admit, “I’ve been having nightmares. I was hoping you had something I could take.”

  “I’m glad you came to me,” she confessed, surprised that I had. “But I’m not sure how I can help you sleep better.”

  I’d pictured her having an herbal solution, unable to kick my secret belief that she was a witch. “I was hoping you had, like, a tea or something. It was stupid,” I mumbled.

  “Get yourself some NyQuil,” Nancy suggested. “But more importantly, keep the reading in mind. You have a monster after you, Adelaide, and you’d best not let him in.”

  Chapter 13

  Luke was gone. His absence seemed to seep into every facet of my life. Work had dragged along and the drive home was a glaze in my mind. There was nothing to keep me centered, nothing to look forward to. Just an empty house. What had I done with myself before Lucas?

  I would have gone straight to his place, but I needed to eat first, and, well, he only had frozen steaks and beer. No thanks.

  There was a package on my doorstep. Upon seeing it I took back that thought I’d had, the one about having nothing to look forward to, because my pepper spray had arrived! I’d ordered it online from work, paying extra to have it shipped a.s.a.p. I felt safer already. It was good to know that I could at least be happy about something without Lucas around.

  I took it inside, cutting through the cardboard with glee, and fondling the black tube for far too long. I touched it until the bottle became familiar in my hands, until I knew how to hold it with my eyes closed. Then I shoved it into my pocket where it didn’t quite fit, protruding from the top. I left it there anyway.

  That was when I noticed it, the unnatural happiness, the fact that I’d been whistling. I scanned the kitchen, finding my pet ghost wagging in the corner.

  The ghost dog had been gone for weeks and I suppose I was to blame. I’d studiously ignored it after a series of vexations, hoping it’d become less tangible. But it hadn’t ghosted back to its diaphanous form, rather disappearing altogether. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’d missed it, but its absence hadn’t gone unnoticed either.

  The thing about dogs, or animals in general, is that they are unsophisticated creatures, artless and innocent. Their emotions are clean, subtle, but very refreshing. I knew I was a headcase, and short of watering down the flood of emotions with strong drink, there wasn’t much hope for me. But the dead dog had helped. Like Prozac, just a little lift to keep the gloom at bay. And now that my pet ghost was back, I was set on keeping it. Lesson learned—the blasted thing was worth its hassle.

  I knelt down on the floor, grabbing an apple off the table to roll across the linoleum. The ghost dog went wild, nub tail ticking back and forth, wispy butt wiggling along with it. It chased and pounced, undeterred when its quarry didn’t respond. Obviously our playtime was a bit one-sided (I didn’t want to picture what I might look like to the casual observer) but that ridiculous creature loved every minute.

  When the rolling got old I began to experiment, holding up a mirror for the dog to see. It really had no effect, so I surmised that either a) ghosts couldn’t see themselves in the mirror, or b) ghosts could see themselves in the mirror, but dogs were too stupid to get it.

  You see, Nancy had this whole spiel about ghosts projecting their image as they remembered it, but the only thing my pet ghost remembered was four paws and a tail. Those parts were clear when it became solid, the rest was just a blob really. There was some semblance to fur, but not much.

  By that time I was pretty set on seeing the creature clearly, and when the mirror failed I fetched a puppy puzzle. I held the box facing out while making doggy noises behind it. I swear, it totally worked. The ghost dog’s snout lengthened out, forming a muzzle tipped with shadowed nose. Next were its ears, the shape slowly forming, long and floppy, but one wasn’t right... I waited, but the second ear didn’t turn over, it was stuck folded back.

  “Here,” I said, shoving the puzzle closer. “They’re supposed to hang down, like in the picture,” I said, tapping the front of the box.

  The ghost lost interest then, wandering away to snuffle under the table and cabinets. I waited for it to turn solid so I could fold its ear down, but after ten minutes of watching I gave up. I figured if it didn’t care that its ear was inside out, then I shouldn’t either, but in truth, it bothered me.

  I left the creature to its own devices and read a romance novel while I ate, sitting at the table in my kitchen. It was pressed under a big window and sometimes I got distracted, staring out into the dark. The novel, which promoted the notion that soul mates were real, set me to thinking about Lucas. But then, most things did.

  I recalled my earlier conversation with Team. He’d been hanging around th
e office again, tuning his guitar, and although I was always irritated by him, he’d been particularly provoking just then. There he’d sat, the golden Adonis, whiling away hours in my company while I couldn’t catch five minutes with my boyfriend.

  In frustration I’d blurted, “What the hell are you doing here? It’s been a week, no, a week and a day. No one stays at a shitty motel for that long.”

  He’d happily launched into an explanation. “I got a job offer while I was traveling through Europe, so I—”

  “Never mind,” I’d cut in. “I don’t care.”

  But it was too late. Tim had taken my question as an invitation, sidling up to the front desk. He’d carried his guitar with him, holding it loosely by the neck. “I’ve been thinking about the other night,” he’d said, leaning an elbow on the counter. “I’m going to report what happened to the local authorities.”

  I’d thought: shit. It was up to me to change his mind, which meant feeding him a story he wouldn’t dare to doubt. Obviously the ex-boyfriend thing hadn’t gone over.

  “I don’t believe he was your ex-boyfriend,” Tim had continued, confirming my thoughts. “And who knows how things might have played out if I hadn’t turned up.”

  I remember thinking it was an ego thing, like he just wanted to rehash events so he could point out his heroic part in them, but it hadn’t been that. He’d transmitted his dogged determination, convincing me that he really would go to the authorities. So I’d said, “I really wish you hadn’t turned up, Tim.”

  “What?” he’d asked, slightly rearing back. “Why?” His interest in my affairs had been strong, the prying ass.

  “I lied. That guy wasn’t my ex-boyfriend, we’re still together. And you interrupted when we were in the middle of...” I pretended to search for a delicate term. “Well, to be blunt, that was foreplay. Why do you think I was in such a rush to be off? We went home and did it... like animals. Like, you know, rabbits.” I hadn’t pulled off the whole sex fiend thing, despite the fact that I’d been channeling Francesca, and after that last statement I’d seriously lost ground.

  He hadn’t quite believed me, but he continued to stare as if replaying events in a whole new light. “The rag and hammer?” he’d asked, pronouncing it like reg and hamma.

  “Role-play,” I’d said, shrugging a bit. “I like it rough.”

  The air had been too awkward after that, forcing Tim from the office. Finally. He hadn’t quite believed me, but he’d believed enough. The threat of impending police was neutralized.

  I didn’t like to admit this to myself, but in a weird way, I’d enjoyed playing up Lucas as my boyfriend, implying that we had a kinky sex life. Okay, imply is a nice word for lie. I’d lied, but it had been satisfying. I was not entirely sure why.

  The dog was swirling circles around the kitchen as I finished up dinner, cleaning my dishes before preparing for bed. I thought about Demidov’s diary, shooting the closet under my stairs a troubled look. Nancy’s prediction ate at me, forcing me to contemplate the thing that scared me most. Not that I’d invite a demon through the veil, but the circumstances that would lead to such an event. What horrible situation could possibly induce me to call up a demon?

  As if trying to escape the diary, I hurried through the kitchen, opening the back door. I paused only long enough to call, “I’m going to Luke’s!” Maybe Smith was lurking around the house somewhere.

  But if I’d expected to find sanctuary at Luke’s house, then I was sadly mistaken. Everything inside was so still, the place a dark hull with the lights off. I moved through, flipping switches as I went, trying to brighten it up.

  I saw the blinking orange light at once. Lucas kept a sideboard in the hall, his answering machine resting on top. Since I didn’t have a phone, he often called his own place to reach me when he was away. I pressed the button down, excited to hear his voice.

  Only it wasn’t Lucas.

  “One missed call,” announced the robotic voice.

  Beep.

  “Hey, it’s Elaine. I don’t know if you’ve left yet, but I talked to your family. They want you to stay with them. Call me back when you get this, if not, we’ll talk about it when you get here.” A pause, the soft, slow breath of a woman coming through the line. “You know you can always stay with me.”

  Click.

  I’m not quite sure what happened after that. My mind had jumped to warp speed, spinning out incomplete thoughts. I think I replayed the message a few times. I know I chanted that it was a wrong number. Lucas never talked about his family, always shying from the topic. I’d assumed he was an orphan. Stupid. Stupid. It was a wrong number. Luke was in Asheville, a car thing. He never actually said that, but his trips were always work related. Stupid. Stupid. It had to be a wrong number. Otherwise, who was Elaine? There was no mistaking the implication she’d tacked on at the end, but that didn’t matter. It was a wrong number.

  I no longer wanted to sleep at Luke’s, though I doubted I would sleep at all. I lurched down the hall, my legs stiff like foreign sticks, not wanting to cooperate as I fled out the back door.

  Halfway back to my house, I was scrabbling over the fence when Smith arrived. I hadn’t thought to turn Luke’s lights off, so blocks of orange from the windows were splashed across the yard. It was still hard to see Smith in the near-dark, but his emotions gave him away. Alarm. Unease. Consternation.

  Had he heard the message too?

  Ungainly in the dark, I flopped off the fence, stumbling to right myself. “Well,” I whispered, squinting to see him. “What is it?”

  His coloring was muted in the dark, but his shape was firm. He was projecting himself clearly, but not turning solid, which, in and of itself was a message. He wanted to communicate, but reserve his strength. His arm cut silently through the shadows, and it took me a moment to register that he was pointing, pointing toward my house.

  I glanced past him, surveying the property. The upstairs window in my loft was lit, lights shining bright.

  I had not left them on.

  Chapter 14

  “Who?” I asked.

  With a series of inarticulate gestures, the only thing Smith managed to communicate was his frustration.

  “I swear, after this we’re both learning sign language.”

  Stepping forward I meant to creep through my yard, but Smith decided to turn solid long enough to tug on the back of my shirt. He was worried, but not a lot, which I took as another message. “I’m not going to go barging in there like an idiot.” Smith was not at all assured by that. “I’m just going to peek through the windows. Plus,” I said, giving the bulge in my pocket a firm pat, “I’m not completely helpless.” Smith was not assured by that either, but I ignored him as I hunched forward, skimming through the yard.

  Crouched beneath the large kitchen window, hugging the wood siding, I slowly craned my neck, using one eye to peer through the glass. The kitchen was dark, but a light from the living room filtered down the hall, feebly declaring that as far as I could see, nothing was amiss. I ducked down, crawling around the corner.

  There was a hedgerow along the front of my house, so getting close to the living room window was a challenge. The branches clacked and the leaves rustled as I pushed my way forward, stretching over the stack of vegetation.

  It was easy to see in with the light on, but there was no sign of an intruder in the living room either. Whoever it was, they were upstairs in my room. A lingering glance assured that nothing was out of place, the downstairs empty. I backed out of the bushes, moving for the front door. Smith, who’d been trailing me like a persistent fog at my feet, plucked at my clothing, both nervous and agitated. That made two of us.

  I paused to explain, but my motivations were selfish and stupid. So I shrugged and kept walking. Up the steps I went, my hand closing firmly over the knob, giving it a slow twist. I opened the door halfway, scanning the room carefully before slipping through the gap and easing it shut behind me.

  An overhead noise made me jolt
in place. It wasn’t particularly ominous, no scream or gunshots, just the sound of shifting, maybe heavy tread across the wooden floorboards. I crept across the carpet on my way to the stairwell, prepared to investigate. But there was a slight tap followed by a creak, the top stair groaning under new weight. No need to go up, whoever it was, they were on their way down.

  And I was about to lose the element of surprise!

  I rushed across the living room, around the couch, and dropped down. I felt sure I’d made a conspicuous amount of noise; even my breathing was loud and erratic. My adrenaline was coursing, ratcheting up reactions in response to this game of cat and mouse.

  The clipped sound of their descent was measured and easy, no rushing, they hadn’t heard me. I lost their position as they stepped onto the carpet, and I stared up at the ceiling, thinking they would round the couch any second and see me.

  But the intruder didn’t do that. I saw the trim figure of a woman disappear down the hall, moving for the kitchen. Stiff skirt, high collar, and gloves—it was that shark Raina Thompson. The nerve!

  And she was heading towards Demidov’s diary!

  Not wanting her to see me cowered behind the couch I jerked upright, storming after her as I yelled, “What the hell are you doing in my house!”

  She pivoted neatly, unsurprised by my sudden appearance. “Ah. So there you are,” she said, inspecting me, eyes skimming over my outline. “I could sense you lurking about.”

  “One doesn’t lurk in one’s own home,” I said, thinking it best to match her cool attitude. “You, on the other hand, seem quite the proficient.”

  We stared at each other for an extended time, the air fully charged between us.

  Raina was a rail-thin woman, slightly past her prime, with the prim dress of a school teacher. She proved that looks could be deceiving. This was not her first time breaking into my house, though the last time she’d knocked me out. History would not be repeating itself. She was an ice queen, I knew that now, capable of terrible things. She had sanctioned my murder once, encouraging the muscle not to make a mess as he killed me. She would do anything for her one true love: Power. Everything else she held in contempt, including me, especially me.