Medium Well (9781101599648) (27 page)

“No.” She pressed her lips together. “You definitely weren't.”

“Yeah, well, it's been a tough week.” He pulled her closer again, pressing his face against her hair, then jerked back when he heard footsteps in the kitchen.

Deirdre rapped her knuckles on the back doorframe as she stepped through. “I brought you some supper.”

She set some paper bags on the patio table, than sank into a chair opposite the hammock. “I drove by the house on the way here, Danielo. The fire trucks are gone now. So's the ambulance. I assume they took Mr. Henderson to the morgue.”

He blew out a breath, his jaw tightening. Biddy wondered if he'd told his mother what he'd done to Clark Henderson. Not that it mattered much. It wasn't Clark Henderson by that point.

“I suppose it's all roped off now,” Biddy murmured.

Deirdre glanced at her curiously. “Yes, of course. They wouldn't want anybody poking around in there—the walls might fall down. What are you thinking about?”

Biddy shrugged. “I thought maybe I might go over there sometime. Like maybe tonight.”

“Why the hell would you want to go back there?” Danny snapped, sending the hammock swinging as he sat up. “I hope I never see the place again. And I'll be damned if I'll let you go by yourself.”

She turned to him, pressing her fingers against his lips. “It's all right, Danny. Really. I just need to know his name. I promised. If there's any way I could reach him, I need to try.”

His eyes were burning emeralds. “Biddy . . .”

“Biddy, the ghosts may all be gone now,” Deirdre cut in. “The carriage house has been destroyed—it may have taken everything else along with it. At least the demon and Mrs. Palmer. Your Mr. Black may still be there, but I'd guess he won't be there much longer. His spirit will fade now that the demon's been taken care of.”

Biddy nodded, her gaze dropping to the jasmine curling along the trellis at the end of the hammock. “That's why I feel like I need to go tonight—in case he's still there. I feel like I owe it to him. To her, too, if it comes to that. She saved us this afternoon.”

Deirdre sighed. “All right. We'll go together. I'll see if I can contact them. We'll have to wait until it's full dark. I'll be back around ten.”

“No, Ma.” Danny shook his head. “You've done enough. We'll take care of this.”

His mother bit her lip. “Danny, I don't think you can do it without me.”

“Me neither. But we can find out. I can go over there with Biddy and see if anything happens. Maybe he'll come to me one more time.”

His smile sent a shaft of pain through Biddy's diaphragm.
I shouldn't do this. I shouldn't even want to.
But she did.

Deirdre narrowed her eyes, then sighed. “No. I'm going, too. I've been a part of this for a while now, and I'll stay with it now. Besides, you'll need some instructions.”

“Instructions?” Danny narrowed his eyes. “In what?”

“In the family business.” Deirdre gave them both a grim smile. “Tonight,
niño
, you get to try your hand at being a medium.”

Chapter 27

Moonlight softened the ruins of the carriage house, but nothing could take the horror away entirely. The jagged remains of the gray stone walls stood silhouetted against the night sky. Beside him, Danny felt Biddy shudder. On his other side, his mother's jaw tightened.

Such a lousy idea!

“We don't have to do this,” he murmured. “We can go back.”

“I have to do this.” Biddy's eyes were bleak in the darkness. “I said I'd help him. But neither of you need to be here—I can try on my own. You can go back and wait for me.”

Danny snorted. “Right. Like any of us believe that's going to happen.”

His mother patted Biddy's arm. “Let's just see what happens, sweetheart.”

He motioned them both to stay back while he started up the drive, checking to see if any stray security guards were hanging around. Big Al would probably need to set up some kind of patrol, but maybe he had to get Petrocelli's approval first. He turned back to check with his mother again. “Where do you want to do this? We can't go inside the ruins. They aren't safe.”

She shook her head. “We don't need to. I brought these.” She handed each of them a folding lawn chair. “We need to set them up somewhere near the walls.”

Biddy looked around the yard. “How about the swing?”

“You mean the one in the side yard?” His mother shrugged. “That should do it. And it's out of sight of the street in case anyone drives by.”

The two women started up the path toward the swing, dappled now with silvery moonlight. After a moment, Danny followed.

The spreading live oaks in the side yard appeared untouched by the fire, rustling slightly in the evening breeze. The swing still dangled from a low-hanging branch. As they approached, it moved slightly, the rope making a dry squeaking sound against the bark.

Danny shivered, then told himself to knock it off. Bad enough they were going to be conducting a séance, for God's sake, without spooking himself. He watched Biddy and his mother open their lawn chairs, then opened his own beneath the spreading live oak with its moon shadow. “Now what?”

“We need a circle,” his mother explained. “And we need to hold hands again.”

Danny pushed his chair closer. “Am I going to have to channel this guy? Like you did with Mrs. Steadman?”

“No.” His mother took a breath. “I don't have time to show you how to do that. We'll just have to wing it.”

Wing it.
So
much what I want to hear.
He sighed, staring back toward the dark mass of the Steadman house at the top of the drive. At the very least he should have asked his mother how they'd go about doing this.

“Just relax,” she said softly. “Hold my hand and Biddy's, let your mind open. Just give it a chance, Danielo.”

He took a deep breath and concentrated on the darkness around him, letting his mind go blank. His muscles began to loosen from the tension he'd felt since they'd walked up the drive. He smelled night-blooming jasmine, a hint of petunias. He felt warm, almost drowsy. His eyes began to droop.

Somewhere nearby, a cat meowed. Beside him, Biddy inhaled a quick gasp.

“It's all right,” his mother soothed. “She's giving us her support.”

“Wonderful,” he muttered, drifting back to consciousness. “Another tuna conversation.” He concentrated on the darkness again, breathing slowly.

The cat meowed more softly. Biddy leaned forward, her chair creaking slightly as she did. “Do you see anything?”

“No,” his mother said.

Danny shook his head. “I can sure as hell hear it, though.”

“But it's not inside the house this time.”

He felt ice drip down his spine. Apparently, the carriage house wasn't the only place that could do that to him. “Keep holding my hand,” he murmured, turning back toward the house.

At first it felt like a wind, raising the hair on his arms and at the back of his neck. Another shiver coursed down his spine.

“Someone's here,” his mother whispered.

Danny swallowed hard. What was he supposed to do now?

“It's all right,” she murmured. “Come ahead. We want to talk to you.”

Danny closed his eyes, listening. The cat meowed again, closer this time. The wind caressed his face. He opened his eyes to peer into the shadows in the side yard.

Something moved beneath the trees. Danny squinted. A man. Sort of. The figure was faintly blurred around the edges. “He's over there, under the trees. Can you see him?”

His mother nodded. “It's your friend, I think. Mr. Black.”

The man stepped forward again, and Danny's hand closed convulsively on Biddy's. Dark coat. Bloodstained shirt. Beard. Eyes that looked as if they'd seen hell.
Terrific. It had to be the ghost who can't talk.

“Mr. Black,” he breathed.

“We want to talk to you,” his mother repeated.

Mr. Black bowed his head, and moved through the shadows again. Now the lower part of his body showed in the moonlight.

“Can you speak to us?” his mother asked.

Mr. Black stood under the live oak staring at Danny. After a moment, he nodded toward him.

“He can speak?”

“He can speak to you,” his mother explained. “Just to you. He has something he wants to say to you.”

“What?” Danny swallowed hard.

Mr. Black's lips moved into a faint smile. “Thank you,” he said, in a voice that sounded like the scrape of dry leaves across stone.

***

Biddy felt as though the next thirty minutes were among the longest of her life. Danny stared into space, his eyes oddly unfocused, his breath coming fast. Sometimes he muttered something—a question, a comment, the words too low for her to hear.

Deirdre turned to her once. “Can you see him at all—Mr. Black, that is?”

Biddy shook her head. “Maybe a little . . . disturbance in the air. But nothing solid.”

“I can see him but I can't hear. We'll let Danny do the talking. Just keep holding hands.”

After a half hour, his head began to droop.

Deirdre leaned forward. “Danielo,” she said sharply. “Danny. Is he still here?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Sort of. I think.”

“Is he fading?”

He nodded, then closed his eyes.

“Thank you,” Deirdre called out to the darkness. “Go in peace.
Vaya con Dios.
”

Danny slumped to the side, his head resting on Biddy's shoulder. She dropped hands to put her arms around him. “We need to get him home,” she murmured. “He needs to rest.”

“Screw that,” he muttered. “I've never in my life wanted a beer as much as I want one now.”

Biddy helped him to the car, then turned to Deirdre. “Buentello's is closest.”

Deirdre shook her head. “You can tell me what happened later. I really want to go home and hug Ray all of a sudden.” She leaned forward and kissed Danny's cheek. “Get some rest,
niño
.”

“Thank you.” Biddy sighed. “For everything.”

Deirdre gave her a wan smile as she turned toward her own car. “Stay safe, sweetheart.”

At Buentello's the waiter brought a bucket with four beers immersed in ice. Danny twisted the top off the nearest one. “Quiñones,” he said.

“What?”

“Quiñones. Joseph Quiñones. That was his name. Mr. Black, that is.” He took a quick swallow of beer.

“What else did he say?”

Danny rubbed the beer bottle against his forehead as if to cool it. “Just about everything. What do you want to know?”

“Did he live in the carriage house?”

“He did.” Danny leaned back in his chair. “And died there.”

“What happened?”

He blew out a long breath. “Palmer turned the demon loose in order to kill Joseph and Devora after he found out they were lovers. He thought he could control it and let it kill them while he set up his own alibi. Instead, the demon consumed him, too, just like it did Henderson. That was some of the blood in the kitchen. Along with all the others Palmer brought there as payment for the demon's investment advice.”

“Others?” Biddy's chest clenched. “What others?”

“People he found. People he fed to the demon. Lost people—we'll never know their names now.” Danny took a long pull on his beer.

“But Mrs. Palmer got away. What about Joseph?”

Danny shook his head. “The demon bargained with them like he did with us. Joseph offered himself in exchange if it let her go. Naturally, the demon agreed, although he probably planned on eating both of them anyway.”

“So the demon kept his part of the bargain after all?” She shook her head. “Doesn't sound like the demon we met.”

Danny took another long pull on his beer, draining it. “She promised.”

Biddy licked her lips again. “Promised what?”

“More souls. She promised it more.” He pulled another beer out of the bucket, opening it with a savage twist.

Biddy took a breath. “Did she provide them?”

He nodded. “She gave it Palmer. She broke the spell that had kept the demon from turning on him before.”

She closed her eyes. “Nasty but fair. How did the demon end up in the stove?”

“More nastiness. She made a charm to draw the demon. Then she sealed it inside. Gut and hair from her cat.”

“My God,” Biddy muttered. “She sounds like a witch.”

He shook his head. “Just a very specialized medium. She was descended from one of those families Ma talked about—the demon tamers. She conjured it up in the first place when Palmer needed inside information for his scam. “

Biddy frowned. “She brought it there for Palmer?”

“He forced her, according to Joseph. He'd brought her to Texas and King William from wherever her family came from originally. Somewhere in Europe. Once she was here, she was pretty much his slave. Until she fell for Joseph. And vice versa.” He blew out a breath. “And then Palmer tried to use her own demon to kill her as revenge.”

“Doesn't sound too smart.”

Danny nodded. “He forgot who had the real power in the family. He thought since he'd worked with the demon he could control it, but he couldn't. That power was hers.”

Biddy let a cool stream of Shiner Bock trickle down her throat. “Then why was she still there as a ghost? If she was so powerful, how did she end up haunting the carriage house?”

“For Joseph.” Someone laughed at one of the other tables, the sound making them both jump.

Biddy blew out a breath. “Okay, explain. How was this supposed to make up for her letting her lover become voluntary demon bait?”

“She had to let him die to live herself, so that she could revenge herself on Palmer for what he'd done,” Danny said slowly. “But she made another bargain when she made the charm to lure the demon back to the stove. She agreed to stand guard. To make sure it stayed in its cage.”

“But how could she do that? She had to sell the house—she couldn't stay there. And she didn't, she disappeared.”

He took another deep breath and blew it out. “Not exactly. It turns out she didn't go as far away as we thought. She hung herself from the tree with the swing after she sold the house. Nobody found out about it at the time. The new owners must have hushed it up. They buried her in a paupers' field somewhere.”

Biddy closed her eyes, her heart pounding. “The tree with the swing. The one that I sat in a few times while I waited for you. The place where we sat tonight. And I always thought it was pleasant, at least compared to the carriage house.”

He grasped her hand across the table. “Does that take care of the questions? I tried to think of everything I needed to ask him.”

She shook her head. “Just . . . can they go now? Are they free?”

Danny shrugged. “I don't know. I hope so. The demon's gone for sure. Mrs. Palmer's probably gone since she was only there to guard the demon. Mr. Black looked to be on his way out, too. I figured maybe that was why he could talk to us when he hadn't been able to before.”

“Good.” She stared at the bucket of beer. There was one left, but she suddenly had no taste for it.

Danny leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. “God, I'm tired. Ma was right. This takes a lot out of you.”

“Come on.” Biddy put her arms around him, pulling him to his feet. “Let's go home.”

***

Biddy lay looking at Danny as he slept in her arms. He'd been asleep almost since his head hit the pillow. Not that she blamed him. She just wished she could do the same thing.

She leaned back against the pillows. Images danced in her mind of Mrs. Palmer walking the paths around the carriage house, night after night, mourning her lost lover, guarding against the demon she'd raised herself. Possibly for eternity. They made her shiver.

Danny moved in his sleep, muttering, and Biddy stroked his hair.

“Why is this woman awake?” he mumbled.

“This woman wishes she weren't.” She yawned, wondering if she should take some NyQuil, even without a cold.

“Stress reaction?” He struggled to a more upright position, resting his head against her shoulder.

“Mrs. Palmer reaction.” She stared off at the window again. “I'm still trying to get everything straight in my mind. To put it all together.”

He blew out a breath. “What's to put together? Palmer comes to town, decides to set up as an ‘investment counselor' and has his wife, who was a real medium, supply him with a demon to provide the investment tips.”

“And she puts some kind of charm on Palmer so the demon won't get him.”

He nodded. “Only Palmer has to pay off the demon for the information so he supplies it with people to kill.”

The darkness echoed around them for a moment.
People to kill. People who wouldn't be missed.
She swallowed. “Then Mrs. Palmer falls in love with Joseph Quiñones.”