“What’s wrong?”
“My ex bought me a fifteen-year-old car that’s about given up the ghost, while he bought himself a fifty-five thousand dollar luxury machine. He said that we couldn’t afford for me to have a new car. This is a great make and model, but it was used when I got it and the previous owner didn’t treat it very nicely. The past few years, Cookie’s been in the shop a lot for one thing after another.” I stared at the dashboard. “Let’s give it a moment and I’ll try it again. Maybe the weather’s fucking with it.”
We waited in silence for a few minutes, then I tried it again and once again. The ignition burped, but refused to start.
“Hell.” I leaned back, staring out the window. The snow was falling so thick that I could barely see the street. “Is there a hotel near here?”
“Yeah, there’s the Watchguard down the street.” Louise glanced back at the restaurant. “We could go back inside.”
“Let’s call them first and see if they can take us.” I pulled up my Maps app and typed in the name of the hotel. It brought up the website and I tapped on the link to call them.
“Watchguard Hotel, how may I help you?” The voice was warm and firm.
“Hi, we’re stuck a few blocks away and I can’t get my car started. Do you have any rooms open?” I held my breath, praying he’d say yes.
“I’m sorry, we’re booked solid. We don’t have a single room available. You’re welcome to come sit in the lobby, but—” he paused as a loud boom echoed, shaking the car.
I jumped and looked around. “What the hell?”
“Power just went out. That must have been a transformer,” the clerk said. “I have to go, but you’re welcome to come in and sit. I have a feeling it’s going to be damned cold soon enough, though,” he said, hanging up.
I turned to Louise. “Power just went out and they have no spaces. We could try to make it there on foot, but we’d have to sit in the lobby, in the cold.” I was shivering by now. Even my coat wasn’t working against the chill.
“I have a fireplace in my apartment,” she said, glancing up at the Spit & Whistle Pub. “I don’t want to go back in there, but we can’t stay here.”
“Let me call my boyfriend and see if he’s anywhere near here. He has a big reliable SUV and I think he can make it through.” I called Killian. He answered on the first ring.
“Hey love, how are you? Are you safe at home?”
“No, actually. I’m sitting in my car—which won’t start—with Louise. We’re in front of the Spit & Whistle Pub. The hotel down the street just lost power and they’re full up. We’re going to have to go back inside the restaurant because Louise has a fireplace, but the ghosts are wreaking havoc today and it’s dangerous for us to stay there. Can you—”
“I’ll be down there as soon as I can. You be careful, and…I know you can’t stay in the car till I get there, but please, be cautious. I want you in one piece when I get there.” There was a quiver in his voice that I recognized as fear.
“We’ll be waiting,” I said. I turned to Louise. “It will take him some time to get here, but he’s on his way. Until then…” I gazed past her at the restaurant. “I don’t think we have much choice.”
“All right,” she said, her voice shaking. I couldn’t tell if it was from the fear or the cold.
“Here, hold on,” I said, holding out my hands. “Take my hands.”
She did.
I reached deep, tried to summon up as much as I could remember of my mother’s rituals that I had helped her perform. It had been so long that I was worried I might have forgotten everything but there was a sudden connection, and memories came flooding back. I could hear Esmara whispering in my ear.
Do what feels right. Your instinct will guide you. I will do what I can.
I caught my breath and held it, then slowly exhaled, lowering myself deep into trance.
Spirals of fear raced around Louise. Behind her, I could see the aura of the restaurant lit up like some garish carnival haunted house, threads of energy roiling off of it like long tendrils waving in the snow. I brought my focus back to Louise and to me, and began to build a bubble of protection around both of us. I caught hold of the strands of energy that Esmara fed me—they were blue and purple beams of light, and I wove them together with my mind, watching as I created a cocoon around us. The light was translucent, I could see through it, but it was there, and it was strong.
What can we do to hold this firm?
You must focus on it, focus on holding it strong—you can keep them from pulling the threads apart, but only if you focus. You cannot attack them at the same time that you’re trying to keep this sphere of protection together. You’re not strong enough yet for that.
Can we move with it?
Yes, of course. Go in now, your body temperatures are getting too low.
I motioned for Louise to get out of the car. “Leave your bags in here. Nobody’s going to be out here stealing anything.” I left my purse, bringing only my phone.
We stepped out of the car and headed over to the building. With a deep breath, I motioned for Louise to unlock the door, and we headed into the psychotropic restaurant, back to the ghosts who were eagerly waiting for us.
Chapter Twelve
There was a hush as we entered the Spit & Whistle Pub, and then a bottle of whiskey flew off the shelf behind the bar and sailed toward us. I started to duck, but it got within two feet of us and suddenly fell to the ground, shattering glass and alcohol everywhere.
I straightened my shoulders, all my focus going into protecting us. The power was off, but at least it was still a little warmer inside than it was outside. It occurred to me that lighting a fire, even in a fireplace, wasn’t the best of ideas. There was no way of knowing what the entities in here could do with that.
“We’ll wait here. It’s going to be cold, but we can see when Killian gets here from that window. I don’t think we should be playing with matches right now,” I said, keeping my voice low. I wasn’t sure that would do any good, given the ghosts could hear us no matter how softly we spoke, but it just felt like the thing to do.
“I think you’re right,” Louise said, leading me over to the booth nearest the window. I glanced at the bar opposite us. We were in the direct line of fire if whatever was tossing bottles around decided to play ball with another bottle, but there wasn’t much we could do about that. There was no other place to sit if we wanted to keep an eye out for Killian.
“You can’t live here any longer,” I said. “Not until we clear out whatever is haunting this place.”
“Do you really think you’ll be able to cleanse this place?”
I hesitated, then told her about Clarence van Nostram and the Covenant of Chaos. “That room down there might have a portal in it, leading to the realm of chaos. That would explain the shadow man and the poltergeists. The other spirits—well, more than three people have died here. I found out that besides the double murder–suicide, a woman named Ida Johansen was killed in the kitchen when she put a green piece of wood in the cookstove that was heavy with pitch. The wood exploded, the cookstove door was blown off and it hit her. Ida fell, cracked her skull, and died. There was also a shifter named Jonathan Parks who was gunned down as he left the bar one night. He was a mean son of a bitch who liked to mess with the barmaids. The owner at the time didn’t pay any attention to their complaints, so one of the barmaids told her fiancé. He waited until Jonathan left the building, then he ambushed him directly out in front of the pub.”