Happy Medium: (Intermix) (24 page)

“You still are.” He glanced at the last crew members, who were winding up cables. “Looks like they’re pretty much done. As soon as they get out of here we can take off for Rosie’s.”

“Right.” She blew out a breath. “Did you see the light go out and the gauges go dead? Not to mention the camera and those candles?”

“Hard to miss them. Thanks for putting the candles out before they set the place on fire.”

“Amina threw them. They didn’t fall off. She’s here.”

He nodded. “I know. But at least she didn’t do anything worse than tossing stuff around.”

“But she’s still here. We need to think about that.”

“Why didn’t she mess with anyone when she had the chance?” He frowned. “The room was full of people. Did she suddenly get shy? All she did was the poltergeist stuff she does during the day. We know she’s capable of a lot worse at night.”

“I noticed that. I’ve got a theory.”

He frowned. “What?”

The last crew member picked up a light stand and headed for the hall door.

“She wants you,” Emma murmured.

Ray narrowed his eyes. “She’s gone after you too.”

“Right.” She nodded. “But I think that was just a way to get to you. She wanted to possess me so that she could have sex with you. It’s you she’s after—not me or Gabrielle or any of the other people who were here tonight. It’s you.”

Skag’s voice echoed in his mind for a moment.
They’ve been know to engage in pre-emptive strikes against your family members in order to protect themselves.

“I was here too,” he said softly.

“But you weren’t in the room. You were out in the hall. Maybe that made a difference.”

The tickling of anxiety was back again, a dribbling of ice water down his backbone. He swallowed hard.

Something moved in the corner of his vision, in the shadows near the windows, away from where the crew members had been working just a moment ago. He turned quickly. A shape formed, solidified.

Amina stood watching them, her smile faintly mocking.

He yanked Emma to her feet, shoving her toward the door. “Run. Now”

“What?” She half stumbled but caught herself on the doorjamb. He grabbed her arm, pushing her through to the hall.

Amina moved with the kind of speed he associated with yellow jackets, inches behind them. He threw himself across the threshold, pushing his body in front of Emma.

Suddenly, Amina come to a stop on the other side of the open door. She pulled back from the jamb with its border of iron nails.

He blinked. “She’s caught.”

Emma held onto his arm, nodding as she tried to catch her breath. “The nails . . . work.”

Amina regarded them both for a long moment, her face twisting into something vaguely inhuman in its rage. Then she faded slowly, her burning eyes the last thing he saw. After a moment, the candleholders flew across the room, smashing against the walls. Next the water carafe crashed to the floor. One of the séance chairs lifted a few feet in the air and then hurtled toward the door.

He grabbed Emma’s arm, pulling her down the hall as he heard the sound of shattering wood. “Come on. Let’s get out of her range.”

Emma paused in the living room, rubbing a hand up and down her arm. “She’s raging. If she could have gotten to us before we got out the door . . .”

“She would have grabbed hold and tried to suck one of us dry,” he finished. “But that doesn’t make any sense. Did she somehow get caught in the room while I was doing the warding? Why wouldn’t she just move out before I finished?”

“Maybe she couldn’t,” Emma said slowly.

“Why not?”

“I’m not sure.” She slid down to the living room floor, resting her back against a bare stud. Outside he could hear the voices of the crew as they loaded the trucks in his driveway. “What changed here besides the wards going up on the doors?”

He shrugged. “We cleaned out the storeroom. I smashed up the locket, which did nothing so far as I can tell. That’s about it, except for the filming. And judging from the tricks she played, I think she was trapped in there before the filming started.”

Emma nodded. “I think that’s right. So how did she get in there in the first place?”

He stared down the now empty hall. The crew members had removed the power cables, the lights, the cameras. The house looked normal again. Or as normal as it ever got, given the circumstances.

“That’s not all we did,” he said slowly.

“What else?”

His jaw tightened. “We dressed the room. With stuff that had been in other parts of the house before. Unwarded parts.”

Emma pushed herself upright. “The object. The thing she’s bound to. We must have brought it in there.”

He nodded. “We put it in that room and then we warded the room. As long as the object was in a room that wasn’t warded, she could move around. But now she’s stuck.”

“And now we can figure out which object it is and destroy it.”

He closed his eyes, taking a quick mental inventory of the contents. Furniture. Pictures. Vases. He didn’t have a clue where to start. “The hell with figuring it out. We should just destroy it all. Not take any chances.”

“That’s a possibility. There are a few rental pieces in there I’ll need to save, though. Let’s do it tomorrow.” Emma pushed herself to her feet again.

“Definitely. There’s no way either of us is going back in that room tonight. Not the way she’s feeling right now, judging from how much stuff she’s already smashed. It may even be dicey going there in daylight since she’ll be fighting for survival.”

Emma shook her head. “I don’t think she’s strong enough to do much except throw things during the day. If she were any stronger, she would have gone after us when we were in there earlier. That may be one of the reasons she waited until the room cleared. Maybe she was trying to keep us from finding out she’s trapped. She was probably biding her time and saving her strength until she could get you alone.”

He grimaced. “Not fucking likely. Neither of us is going in there alone from now on.” He put his arm around her shoulders, guiding her toward the front door. “For now, let’s get out of here.”

“Has the crew finished up?”

He shrugged. “Far as I can tell. You know better than I do.”

“They have a few more things to pack up, but I think they’re gone for the night. They might need to come back tomorrow.”

Ray locked the house and ushered her to the driveway. As he opened the door of his truck for her, he felt a quick surge of exhilaration. Tomorrow they’d destroy everything that might be the magic object and they’d make a thorough job of it. The ghost was toast.

He backed down the driveway, then headed toward Rosie’s house. With any luck she’d have some champagne hidden somewhere in the pantry. He really wanted a couple of quick glasses and then an even quicker journey upstairs.

Emma’s cell phone trilled as they turned up Rosie’s block. She pulled it out of her purse, grimacing as she looked at the screen. “It’s Willis. The director.”

“Groovy. Tell him you’re in the tub.”

“He’d just tell me to grab a towel.” She clicked the connect button. “Hi, Willis, what’s up?”

Ray turned into Rosie’s driveway and Emma went silent for a moment.

“No,” she said slowly. “No. She didn’t say anything to me. I’m not at the house anymore—I’m headed back to my . . . room.”

Nice save.
Not that he gave a damn if people in the production company knew she was sleeping at his place.

“What?” She sat up straighter. “She can’t get in. We locked up before we left. Call her and tell her I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

There was another long pause as she listened, her eyes growing wide. “Where did you get one? And why on earth would you give it to Gabrielle? You know what she’s like, Willis. Why did you do this?”

Ray’s shoulders tightened.
Crap. Whatever it is. Crap.

She rubbed a hand across her forehead, closing her eyes. “Yes, all right. I understand. I’ll do what I can.”

He watched her toss the phone back in her purse. “Well?”

“We have to go back,” she said dully. “We have to go back right now.”

“To the Hampton house? Now? This has something to do with DeVere, doesn’t it?”

She nodded. “Gabrielle took the company car at the hotel and headed back to the house. Did you give Willis a key?”

He shrugged. “He needed to get in and set up this morning. I didn’t figure there’d be any problem with it.”

“He gave it to Gabrielle. So now there’s a big problem.”

He tried very hard to care about Gabrielle DeVere. “Which is?”

“She’s going to the house to get her things. Her candles and the water carafe. She’s going into the dining room. Now. Alone. At night.”

Ray closed his eyes for a moment, then leaned forward to put the truck in gear. “Hang on. We’ll be there in five.”

Chapter 23

As Ray’s truck careened up the street toward the Hampton house, Emma tried to check for lights. Maybe they’d been supremely lucky and beaten Gabrielle to the door. She could stand sentinel on the porch. When Gabrielle showed up, she’d just calmly explain that the candleholders and water carafe had been broken while the crew was packing up. She’d offer to buy new ones. She’d be abjectly sorry.

She’d also be fired.

Which wasn’t such a big deal, compared to some of the other potential problems they were facing.

“There’s a car out front,” Ray growled.

Shit.
Emma fumbled to unfasten her seatbelt.

Ray grabbed her wrist. “Listen to me. Do not let it grab you. Whatever you do, don’t let it grab you. That’s how it catches hold to suck power.”

“But Gabrielle . . .”

“Fuck Gabrielle,” he said through gritted teeth. “Promise me, Emma. Promise me you won’t let it grab you.”

“I’ll do my best.” She jumped down from the truck and ran to the front door, with Ray close behind her.

It was unlocked. Emma slowed as she reached the hall, walking swiftly but carefully toward the dining room entrance. She heard voices, or rather just one voice—Gabrielle’s. She was berating someone, her anger echoing down the hallway.

Emma came to a stop just outside the dining room doorway. Gabrielle stood in the center of the room, facing someone, a woman. A woman dressed in a drab-looking navy suit with black heels that weren’t high enough to be sexy or low enough to be comfortable.

Very familiar black heels. Very familiar navy suit. Emma exhaled a shuddering breath. Gabrielle was yelling at Emma’s doppelgänger.

“This is all your fault,” she shouted. “You’re the one who found this place and insisted on using it even after I told you it had too many problems. Now the show’s going to be a disaster. And now my things are broken. I’m warning you Emma, this is all going to come out of your paycheck.”

Emma started through the doorway as Ray stepped up behind her, grasping her wrist. She managed to pull free from his hand, hurrying forward.
My problem, my boss, my double.

The fake Emma took a step nearer to Gabrielle. The real Emma got a look at her face—she was chewing her lip in phony contrition, her blue eyes wide. She lifted a hand toward Gabrielle’s frizzled curls.

Emma moved closer. “Gabrielle.”

The succubus narrowed her eyes, her lips spreading upward in predatory smile.

Gabrielle turned toward her, her mouth dropping open in confusion. “What? Who are you? What is this? What’s going on here?”

Emma moved carefully around the succubus, keeping the exits in view. “Come with me, Gabrielle. Now.” She heard Ray’s steps behind her.

The succubus moved back from Gabrielle, slightly closer to Emma.

Gabrielle narrowed her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Not until someone tells me what’s going on. Is this your twin sister or something? How long has she been doubling for you?”

The succubus smiled more broadly. Her teeth suddenly looked sharper, more lethal.

“Gabrielle, come outside with me. Now.” Emma worked on keeping the desperation out of her voice. “I promise I’ll explain everything.” She wasn’t sure where Ray was. She couldn’t take her eyes away from Gabrielle and the fake Emma.

The succubus moved toward Gabrielle again, but her gaze stayed fixed on Emma. She raised a hand, reaching toward her, smiling again with those sharp, sharp teeth.

Gabrielle frowned in confusion, stepping back slightly from the anti-Emma in front of her. “I said I’m not going anywhere without an explanation.” Her voice had a faint quaver of uncertainty.

“Get away from her.” Ray’s voice seemed to cut through the room like a knife. “You want me, right? Not her. So come and get me. Leave the others alone. Come on, you bitch. Try me.”

He strode to the center of the room, head up, brown eyes burning. Emma thought he’d never looked more beautiful than he did at that moment. On the other hand, he was clearly nuts. “Ray, no!”

“Get her out of here,” he grated. “Go on, Emma. Get her out of here. Now.”

The succubus moved toward him swiftly, her shape becoming slightly blurred around the edges. Emma grabbed Gabrielle by the arm and jerked her through the other door to the hall.

“Let me go. How dare you!” Gabrielle snapped. “I told you I wasn’t leaving until I got an explanation.”

Emma paid no attention, dragging her down the hall toward the front door. For once she was glad she still outweighed her employer by a few pounds. She threw open the door, then pushed Gabrielle through. “Go. Now. Don’t come back until it’s daylight, and maybe not even then. I’ll get you some candles back in Houston. And another water carafe. But you have to get away from here now. It’s dangerous.”

Gabrielle turned, her eyes blazing. She looked a little like a succubus herself. “This is the last straw. Absolutely the last. You’re fired, Emma. Don’t even bother coming back to the studio. And any reference I gave you would be lukewarm at best, so don’t bother asking for that either.”

“Yeah, well, whatever. No problem.” Emma slammed the door in her face, then raced back up the hall to the dining room.

Ray was struggling in the center of the room, his hands on the succubus’s arms, trying to push her away. She clung to him in a parody of desire, her arms wrapped around his neck, one leg stroking his as she tried to pull him back.

Emma’s shoulders clenched tight—the succubus still looked exactly like her, only she’d dispensed with her clothes. Her naked thighs flexed as she rubbed herself against his groin, her breasts trembling as she breathed, nipples drawn to sharp points. Her smile was a grimace of seduction, and her sharp teeth were bared for combat, as red curls swirled around her face. She opened her mouth wide, bringing her teeth toward his throat.

“No,” Emma cried. “Leave him alone!”

“Emma, get out,” Ray gasped, twisting to avoid the teeth. He swung his arm up to push the succubus away, but she evaded him easily.

She wrapped herself more securely against his body, smiling. He writhed, trying to free himself and dodge her gaping mouth.

Emma’s heart thumped hard against her breastbone.

She glanced around the room desperately, looking for anything that could serve as a weapon. If she could just get in a single blow, maybe Ray could run for the door before the succubus recovered.

He stumbled backward toward the wall, the succubus wrapping her arms more tightly around his neck. Emma heard him gasp as sharp nails grazed his cheek.

She grabbed a piece of the broken furniture left over from the succubus’s temper tantrum and brought it down hard against its shoulders. Her own shoulders. Pain sliced through her, but she ignored it.
It’s an illusion, idiot. It’s not you.

The succubus’s head turned, lips pulled back in a grimace, teeth suddenly more like fangs. She slashed her nails in Emma’s direction.

“Emma,” Ray cried again, “get out!”

Emma swung her club up, catching the succubus on the side of her shoulder as she heard splintering glass behind her.

And the succubus froze in place.

For a moment, everything else seemed frozen too. Emma glanced backward over her shoulder. She’d shattered the glass over the hair flower wreath on her upswing.

The hair flower wreath.
Hair.

She threw the club to the floor and yanked the wreath from its frame.

Behind her she heard a feral growl, like a wild animal. She ran toward the fireplace without looking back. Her fingers fastened on the lighter resting on the mantel just as something sharp slashed through the back of her blouse, leaving streaks of fire.

“No!” Ray cried.

She heard more crashing behind her, more snarling. Her back stung, but she managed to keep her hands working, fumbling with the lighter, flicking the switch until it finally caught, then bringing the flame to the hair as the crashing behind her reached a crescendo, along with Ray’s shouts.

Flames flickered around the edge of the wires as the hair slowly caught. She tossed the burning wreath into the fireplace, stepping to the side as the succubus broke away from Ray to grab at her again, and then to grab at the rising flames.

The smell of burning hair filled the room, and the succubus shrieked.

Emma fell back against Ray, grasping his hand as she kept her gaze fastened on the woman who looked so much like her but absolutely wasn’t.

The succubus’s lips twisted upward, thinning, disappearing, the teeth sharpening, yellowing. Her arms elongated, skin shrinking, skeletal, her nails real talons now. Skin disintegrated in patches, bones shone white, her teeth spread again in a silent cry. The face turned to a skull, the eyes alone remaining, dull black, staring, burning, as the hair shriveled to ashes. Death stood watching them for another second.

And then it was gone.

“Holy fucking crap,” Ray whispered.

Emma slumped back against him, trying to catch her breath, her muscles suddenly gone slack. Her heart pounded so fast she was afraid she might faint.

Ray reached down, looping an arm beneath her knees to draw her up against his chest. She wound her arms around his neck, letting him take her weight. He turned to stride out of the room and down the hall, heading swiftly for the front door.

She rested her suddenly heavy head against his chest, trying to catch her breath again. “Where are we going?”

“Away from here. Very far away from here.”

“Works for me,” she mumbled, closing her eyes to let exhaustion take her.

***

“Emma.” Ray struggled to keep his voice calm. “Emma, you need to wake up now.”

Her eyes fluttered for a moment, then closed, then opened. “Ray? Where are we?”

“Rosie’s.” He touched her hair carefully. He had to restrain himself from pulling her into his arms again. Considering the condition of her back, doing that might hurt her. He pushed a pillow under her head instead. “I need to clean up your back. That thing got you good when you were trying to set the wreath on fire.”

“What?” She blinked again as if she still wasn’t entirely awake, staring around the bedroom a little blearily.

His shoulders tightened, but he fought down the panicky feeling in his gut. “The succubus,” he said patiently. “It scratched your back while you were trying to burn the wreath. You’re hurt.” His heartbeat thudded in his ears as he bit down hard again.
What if its claws had venom? What if she’s been poisoned?

She frowned slightly. “What about you?”

“Me?”

She nodded. “It got you too, near your eyebrow.”

He turned toward the mirror. Blood beaded from a line of scratches on the side of his face. He touched it, wincing slightly “Not much to it.” Not nearly as much as the scratches on Emma’s back, for instance.

Her lips firmed. “Whatever you do for me, you need to do for yourself. Or I’ll do it for you.” She started to push herself upright. “Have you got any disinfectant?”

“I’ll check. Stay down.” He patted her on the shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring way, then strode quickly down the hall to the bathroom. The medicine cabinet held a complete collection of hair products, a box of bandages, and one slightly ancient-looking bottle of hydrogen peroxide.
Beggars can’t be choosers.
He grabbed it along with a box of gauze and headed back to the bedroom.

Emma was standing with her back to the mirror, inspecting the long bloody scratches across her shoulders. Her shredded blouse lay on the floor along with her bra. “Good thing I hated this blouse anyway. Geez, it’s like she had claws.”

He gritted his teeth, fighting down that same impulse to take her into his arms. “She did. She was like some kind of animal at the end, when she saw you with that wreath in your hand. It did something to her.” He tore off a piece of gauze and soaked it in peroxide. “Sit down. This may hurt some. I’m sorry.”

She sank down on the bed again, grimacing as he blotted the gauze across the first scratch. “Oh Lord, you’re right. That really, really hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I think you need to have these cleaned up, though. You might need stitches. Santa Rosa Hospital’s not far from here. We should head to the emergency room.”

She shook her head. “No, thanks. Can you imagine trying to explain how I got scratches like these to some emergency room doctor? Particularly since you’re all beat up too. They’re liable to think we’ve been in a fight—possibly with each other. I’ll be okay.” She took the gauze out of his hand. “Now you.”

He endured having his own scratches dealt with, then touched another piece of gauze to the next scratch on her back as she winced.
Best to get her thinking about something else.
“How did you know it was the wreath?”

“Her reaction when I broke the glass. She looked like she’d been shot. And it all clicked.”

“What all clicked?”

“The whole thing about the love token. I mean, it was a token
of
Livingston, not
from
him. All that stuff about voodoo, about taking something from the person you wanted to cast a spell on, something like a lock of hair. Livingston’s hair. It seemed like the right thing for the succubus to be bound to. Maybe Amina wove it into the flowers on the wreath, so that she’d have it nearby.”

“All those years. Nobody ever threw the wreath away or broke the glass or did anything to it. The succubus was lucky.”

“Maybe. Or maybe she was able to keep people away from it. Maybe she had some kind of power over it, over what people did with it.” She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

He grimaced as Emma touched the peroxide to his scratches again. “It sure as hell wasn’t anything I wanted to have around. Even if we hadn’t found out about it tonight, I’d have thrown it away.”

“Yeah, me too. But throwing it away might not have been enough. Maybe it had to be completely destroyed like we did tonight.” She rubbed a hand across her face. “I don’t know. I’m really tired.”

His hand tightened on her shoulder. “Emma, are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital? I’d feel better if I could take you to a doctor.” Not that a doctor would know much about supernatural poisons. He began to fold another piece of gauze to place it over the scratches.