Adelaide Confused (34 page)

The woman he was holding
stirred, untucking her face from his armpit so she could turn and
look at me. Unlike Karen’s fixed do, her hair was a rich, natural
blonde. She had a heart-shaped face filled with pouty lips and big
soft eyes. All of her features were rounded and full. She was,
without a doubt, gorgeous. She was also crying. I noticed the tears
streaming down her flushed cheeks, taking in the puffy, red-rimmed
eyes. She’d stopped sniffling just long enough to look
surprised.

Karen ran up from behind
me, her shoulder shoving into mine as she pushed through the
doorway. “Mr. Wallace, I’m so sorry. I told her to
wait.”

“
It’s quite alright,
Karen,” he said, throwing me a black look. “I’m sure you
did.”

Feeling smug, she threw me a triumphant look
of her own. It lasted until Reed said, “It’s good that Adelaide’s
here though, she can stay for this. You may go, shut the door
behind you.”

She sauntered out, offering me a deadly glare
on the way. I was momentarily grateful my car was not parked out
front. She would’ve slashed my tires in a heartbeat.

“
Adelaide, this is Agata
Demidov, Anastas’ niece.” Reed turned to Agata, smoothing her
ruffled hair. “Agata,” he said, “this is Adelaide. She’s been
helping me try to discover the whereabouts of your uncle’s
journal.”

Speaking to me, he said,
“Agata’s just arrived. I had her flown down from Canada after the
incident.”

Agata, who couldn’t be much older than
myself, started to cry again. She burrowed herself into Reed’s
chest, muffling the sobs.

“
Incident?” I prompted,
indifferent to the tears.

“
There was some trouble
with the funeral preparations,” Reed explained, “and Anastas’
burial was delayed for a time. But when the service was finally set
to start it was discovered that his body had gone
missing.”

Agata’s weeping grew louder.

The more agitated the ghost
grew, the less control he had over his form. Mostly he was a
churning haze, but every so often a faint flick of his image would
appear. His gaze never wavered, remaining steady, every ounce of
attention resting on his niece, the pair of them tormented
together.

“
Anastas,” I said to Agata,
“he wasn’t by any chance wearing a pinstriped suit the last time
you saw him, was he?”

Agata gasped. “You’ve seen
him?”

“Unfortunately.”

Reed’s blue eyes were no longer sympathetic
and soft, they’d sharpened somehow. I hated that look, it was
sharkish. “Tell me what happened,” he demanded.

I wasn’t even tempted to
resist. I did as he said, describing everything except for Smith.
When it came to his part I made up some story about how I got lucky
and escaped by the skin of my teeth. But I didn’t stop there,
continuing to rant about Reed’s sorry excuse for a
staff.

“
Yes, yes,” he interrupted
in exasperation. “I’ll make sure you have access to the house from
now on.”

“
So,” I said after a long
pause, “Anastas Demidov’s body disappeared in Canada, when was
that?”

“
Five days ago.”

“
Five days,” I repeated.
“In five days his body went from Canada—”

“—
Ottawa,” Reed
supplied.

“—
to St. Simons.” Well he
didn’t take a bus, and if his mangled feet were any indication,
then he had been walking the whole way. No, running more like. “But
that doesn’t explain much, I’m obviously missing something. What
was the incident you spoke of?”

“
Something happened to
Agata shortly after the body disappeared. I wanted to bring her
here sooner, but she was named Demidov’s executrix, and there were
some arrangements to be made. This is the first time I’ve really
had a chance to speak with Agata in person,” Reed said
pointedly.

Yes, I understood. He’d been charming the
details out of her when I burst through the door. From the tears I
could guess most of what she’d say.

I lowered myself into the
chair across from them, settling in. “Well, let’s hear it then,” I
said to Agata.

Reed frowned, disapproving
of my callous behavior. I guess he wasn’t interested in playing
good cop/bad cop then.

Agata pulled away from Reed
to sit upright on the loveseat. He kept one arm wrapped around her
shoulders, watching intently as she wiped her nose with the
crumpled tissue she’d been clutching. Every time I looked at her
she seemed younger somehow, more fragile. Executrix? I couldn’t
imagine anyone leaving her in charge of anything.

“
I...” she said, sounding
uncertain. She paused to sniff once. “Well, my uncle’s body went
missing, so then I had to file a police report, and it took a
while. I didn’t go home afterwards because I had a lot of stuff to
sort through at his house, so I went there to work.” Her hands
began to tremble. “I was just packing up some of the art,” and here
she turned to Reed. “He collected it you know.” He nodded,
encouraging her to continue. “I’d just wrapped up a painting when
my... when the body appeared.” Turning to me with those big, teary
eyes, she said, “It was just like you explained. He... it, asked
for the book. At first I didn’t understand what it meant, but it
just kept saying the same thing over and over again.” She broke
off, having gone somewhat hysterical. Reed began to rub her back,
speaking a slow stream of soothing babble.

I grew impatient and
hastened to end the story. “So you told him about Theodore
Dunn.”

“
Yeeess,” she bawled in
remorse.

“
Really there’s nothing to
be ashamed of,” I said truthfully. “I would have told him too if
I’d known where it was.”

Reed looked at me, his
expression turning flinty. “I find it odd that Demidov’s body
singled you out so quickly from an entire island of
people.”

“
It’s a small island,” I
said flippantly. This only increased his suspicion, and I was
forced into yelling. “What! I don’t have the journal. You think I’d
keep it from a... a... Well what the hell
is
that thing?”

“A demon,” Reed answered.

“
Really?” I said, voice
squealing my disbelief. “Huh. I would have guessed zombie, though
obviously your answer makes more sense.”

“
Agata looked through the
journal before passing it to Theodore. She read enough to know that
a demon is using her uncle’s body.” To Agata he said, “Would you
try to remember exactly what you read? It would help us
immensely.”

She nodded, a little in awe
of him, happy to do anything he asked. “According to my uncle,
demons can only enter this realm when invited, no, called, or maybe
it was summoned.” She sighed. “I don’t remember the word for it,”
she admitted, rubbing her eyes. “He wrote about the process in
detail, but since I didn’t understand I skimmed through
it.”

I wanted to groan, but remained tactfully
silent.

“
I did read about the
bargain he made. My uncle wanted information, you see, so he made a
deal. The demon answered all of his questions in exchange for
limited use of my uncle’s body.”

“
What? They don’t have
bodies of their own?”

“Apparently not,” Reed answered.

“
I don’t think so,” Agata
agreed. “My uncle described the demon as an evanescent creature
with an inconceivable appearance and personality. He wrote down its
name, but it was strange and foreign sounding so I don’t remember
that either. It might have started with an R.”

I ignored that last comment
as well, asking the next, most obvious question. “So if your uncle
is dead then why is this demon still running around inside his
body?” She shrugged, but I was already looking to Reed for the
answer.

“
It’s all conjecture at
this point,” he said. “The demon has taken great pains to track
down its own information. I would assume that it revealed some
secrets to Anastas that it thought would never be passed
on.”

“
Yeah, but how is the demon
still running around in Anastas’ body?” I pressed. “Wouldn’t you
assume that his death was a deal breaker?”

“
My uncle wrote pages and
pages warning how dangerous dealing with demons could be.” I
thought he should have taken his own advice. “They’ll manipulate
the most minor oversights, and they’re often wily with
interpretations. He said that, my uncle.”

“So what are you saying?” I asked her. “That
he was careless and left a loophole in their agreement?”

“
No,” she defended, “he was
careful. My uncle would never agree to anything without thinking it
through first. I read the stipulations, and he was very specific
about the duration his body would be used and the condition of its
return.”

Anastas Demidov was an idiot.

Agata must have read my
thoughts, or maybe just my expression, because she grew angry. “How
could he know he was going to die?” she yelled. “How could anyone
plan for such a thing!”

Yep, she was really mad.
And I was the recipient of her emotions, both because I was an
empath and an easy target. The ghost was pretty pissed too, but not
at me thankfully. He was an agitated mist, churning in the corner,
frustrated by his own foolhardy past and the current helplessness
of the situation. It was a set of emotions I recognized often in
Smith.

“So...” I said, attempting to defuse the
situation. “How does one go about getting rid of a demon?”

“
I just want my uncle’s
body back!” Agata wailed. “I need to bury him,” she sobbed. “I
shouldn’t have sold his journal, I shouldn’t—”

Her words broke off as Reed
pulled her close, her face pressed to his chest. He laid his cheek
on her hair, murmuring, “Don’t worry, I’ll get him back. I’ll take
care of it.”

She was comforted by his
promise, and the weeping soon subsided. It was strange to
experience someone else’s reassurance, especially to the words I
had always mistrusted.

But I knew better because I
knew Reed. Beneath his current tender exterior was an impatient
man. There was no sympathy, no affection, only an indifferent
intent. This was business for him and nothing more.

Agata had calmed, though
she continued to snuggle up and snot all over Reed’s expensive
suit. He spoke over her head. “Our options are limited. If Anastas
were here he could revoke the invitation, sending the demon back to
its own realm.”

“How do you know that?” I asked.

“She told me earlier.”

Agata was awake; I could
see her eyelashes flutter. But she remained silent, even as we
talked about her, as if she was letting the grownups
speak.

“And the other options?” I asked.

“I’m looking into both ritual and religious
rites concerning the expulsion of spirits.”

My eyes goggled. “An
exorcism?”

He nodded.

“If the demon is just after his secrets then
why can’t we hand the book back when we find it?”

“
No,” Reed said forcefully,
and I felt something akin to greed. “We’re not sure what this demon
is after,” he hurried to explain. “For now we can only guess.
Besides,” he added, “you haven’t even found it yet.”

I’d underestimated how
badly Reed wanted the journal for himself. He wouldn’t turn it over
to the demon for anything, relying on an exorcism instead. But
there had been another option, something Reed couldn’t hope to
achieve. But I could, because I was staring at Anastas Demidov, the
only one capable of uninviting his guest.

“
I’d like to sleep on your
couch if that’s okay with you.” You would think that after all the
time I spent fantasizing about this moment, it might be, well,
different.

I hadn’t gone home, driving
straight to Lucas’ instead, knowing I was too tired to climb the
fence. After a little of my knocking he’d opened the door wearing
only a pair of sagging cargo shorts. A pleasant sight. But I hadn’t
come to ogle. I had come because I couldn’t stand to go
home.

Between being burgled by
Raina and assaulted by a dead man, the last two days had been
rough. Not to mention that Stephen was now mad at me. Add him to
the growing list. I just wanted... comfort, I guess.

Lucas opened the door wide,
stepping back to let me pass. I trudged into the living room,
thinking of all the things I wanted to do. Getting out of my smelly
clothes and showering were high on the list. I was also a little
hungry. But all that fell in line behind the bone-deep fatigue. It
was hard just to mutter, “I’m tired.”

“
Come on,” he said,
gesturing to the stairwell. “Sleep in the bed.”

“No,” I protested, though I was already
following him up the stairs. “I couldn’t make you sleep on the
couch.”

“
You’re not. I’m sleeping
in the bed too.”

His house, which mirrored
my own, was nearly identical in shape. The loft, however, had a
uniquely different feel, masculine and simple. I stood at the
entrance, balking.

Lucas ignored me, moving
around the room to collect a small stack of clothes. I watched his
brawny chest and arms, coming to terms with how little I knew about
men.

“
Here,” he said, handing me
a white T-shirt and pair of plaid boxers.