The Fix Is In: Torus Intercession Book Four, page 14
I was breathless when he broke the kiss. “I’m better today,” he informed me. “No fever, no sniffles. I think yesterday was the end, so––”
“Yeah,” I agreed, because if the man could get to dinnertime without any sign of sickness, and the alarm system was up and running, all my plans included being in his bed.
He closed his eyes for a moment, smiling, and I saw the shiver of anticipation.
I felt the same.
“Are you two coming?”
Benji snorted and then turned. “I hope so!”
“That’s terrible,” I muttered from behind him.
He was chuckling as we joined them on the porch. Once Sian knocked, a man answered who ushered us in quickly. Mr. Gleason shook all our hands and then walked us into the living room where his wife was waiting.
“Hey, Liz,” Sian greeted her.
Elizabeth Gleason, Liz, rushed across the room and hugged Sian and then turned to smile at all of us. “I appreciate you all being here. It’s been hard since Mom died. We’ve had so much company, and there’s been so much grief and just awful, you know?”
“The last person finally went home yesterday,” Mr. Gleason, Bill, explained, “so we opened all the windows and let the breeze blow through the house even though it was cold as hell, but it didn’t feel any lighter in here. It still feels heavy, like the gloom is sticking to the walls.”
“You realize the sadness won’t dissipate overnight,” Benji explained gently.
“Yes, of course. I know that me missing my mother isn’t going to poof and go away,” Liz assured him. “I will cry and grieve, even though I know she’s not in pain anymore, and we had one of our best talks ever before she passed.” She took a deep breath, and Sian took her hand, which seemed to help. They were about the same age, which meant her mother was young, only in her sixties. It had to be hard. The mere thought of losing either of my parents filled me with dread. “But we don’t need anyone else’s grief in the house. Bill’s and mine is enough.”
Her husband nodded. “It feels so oppressive in here, not comforting, you know? I get why people have the gathering after the funeral in churches and halls now. It was a mistake to have it here in our home.”
It wasn’t true for everyone, though. When my nana had passed, my mother’s mother, we had the celebration of her life afterward in my parent’s home, and it was lovely. So many good stories and happy memories, and my mom was comforted by the outpouring of emotion. Clearly, the Gleasons had not experienced a remembrance but an extended, somber memorial.
I stood back as all the windows were again opened, and Sian and Delly got out large bundles of what appeared to be sage and palo santo. Benji had his EMF detector out, and he started walking from room to room.
Sian explained to Liz and Bill that Benji was checking to make sure there were no entities in the home they might be overlooking before she and Delly would start the cleansing.
“It’s not smudging?” Liz asked her. “I thought that’s what it was called.”
“Smudging is very specific to Native American cultures,” Sian explained. “As you know, I’m a hedge witch, and we don’t say smudging, we say cleansing.”
They both nodded and stood there quietly. Benji was back beside me minutes later, slipping his hand into mine.
“Nothing paranormal going on?” I asked him.
“Really?”
“That wasn’t me making fun. I was sincerely asking.”
From the look I got, I could tell he wasn’t convinced.
“I swear.”
He nodded slowly. “There are no entities or even cold spots in this house. I think this cleansing will clear the air, and the house will feel like theirs again when Sian and Delly are done.”
Once they finished and had gathered their things, Bill showed us out and shook all our hands but held onto Benji’s longer.
“You’re being careful around stairs, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely,” Benji assured him before Bill thanked us all again and went back inside to join his wife.
“What was that about?” I asked as we started down the path.
“Bill thinks he caught me when I tripped on the back staircase of the county courthouse, but that’s not what happened.”
“How can Bill think he caught you? He either did or didn’t.”
“No, I mean Bill did catch me, but I didn’t trip.”
“What happened?”
“I was pushed.”
I stopped and rounded on him. “When was this?”
He had to think for a moment. “I want to say…two weeks ago.”
If he was killed and I’d never gotten to meet him—the thought made my stomach flip, and I grabbed his arms. “Tell me.”
“It was at night. I was researching one of the properties where I took some pictures a while back, and I was at the stairs when I heard a noise behind me, so I turned to look, and that’s when I was pushed. Hard.”
“Benji,” I rasped, staring at him, at his face, which I found myself liking more and more with each passing moment. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”
“Because it was the spirit,” he affirmed, “the one that’s not at rest I took the picture of in the woods. He thinks I forgot about him, but of course, I haven’t.”
“You––”
“I think he’s getting tired of waiting, which is why he’s attacking me.”
“What woods?”
He waved me off. “Listen, there’s nothing you can do about angry spirits. Once I figure out who the man was, then I can solve the mystery of his death and release him. If I can’t figure out who he was, then I can’t speak to him by name, and releasing him becomes impossible, which is a problem. That’s why I was doing research, in hopes of identifying him.”
“What?” I nearly shouted.
“It’s very simple,” he explained patiently. “I have to find out who the spirit is in order to solve the mystery of his passing.”
I looked at Sian and Delly, who had stopped to wait for us on the path. “Did you guys know about this?”
“Of course we did,” Sian explained, “But Shaw, that one was a specter, and like Benji said, it’s not connected to the shots or him being tailed by a car.”
But it was; it had to be, since I didn’t believe in ghosts.
“Can we eat now?” Delly whined. “I’m starving.”
I was quiet on the way to the pub, while Benji kept up a steady stream of conversation about how I had inspired him to make some changes in his house.
“I do need to turn it into a home,” he told me. “It’s time.”
Why that bugged me I had no idea.
The pub was in the oldest building in town, which made sense; the loggers would have needed a place to drink. Inside it was rustic, with stone walls and a wood-burning stove that made me feel as though I’d stepped back in time. The red brick nearest the stove was blackened with age and soot, and the rest was beautiful. My Greystone at home had a lot of exposed brick as well, and everyone said it always felt cozy. I was surprised, with only the stove to heat the place, that it was so warm inside.
We took a seat at what was, I was told, their regular table, and Chris came out from behind the bar, bent and kissed Sian, then asked me what I wanted.
“Bring me whatever everyone else is having, and the same for my buddy, who should be here momentarily.”
“I’ll figure something out, because you won’t like what they eat,” Chris assured me. “It’s all vegan, and you look like a carnivore to me.”
“Yeah no, not a vegan. Thank you.”
“Anything for the man who helped my girl figure out her life.”
I squinted at him. “I’m thinking she was getting there on her own.”
“We’ll agree to disagree,” he said, patting me on the shoulder before he left.
Moments later, a waitress dropped off a large pot of hot water for them and one full of coffee for me. She brought a pitcher of cream and a wooden hinged box full of tea that was opened and dived into.
When Rais walked in, I had fun watching the locals look him over.
“Wow,” Delly gasped, staring.
“Oh my goddess, wow is right,” Sian echoed. “Holy crap, Shaw, you didn’t say your friend looked like that.”
“Like what?” Benji asked her. “You don’t think he looks like he needs a keeper? Someone to take care of him?”
“I’ll take care of him,” Delly offered.
“You’re too young for him,” Sian said, sitting up straight as he joined us.
“Rais,” I greeted him. “This is Sian and Delly. They work with Benji.”
His smile, all gleaming eyes and perfect white, even teeth, rendered them mute. The dimples were overkill. “It’s a pleasure, ladies,” he greeted them, taking a seat next to me and passing me Benji’s laptop, which I’d asked him to bring. I opened it and asked Benji for the password.
“There’s no password,” he told me, putting his head on my shoulder, leaning into my side, his hand on my thigh under the table.
“You have to have a—Christ,” I grumbled. “Where are these pictures you took of this goddamn specter in the woods?”
“In the folder called Reflections of My New Home,” he announced dramatically, and I could hear all the capitalization in his speech.
“So, Rais,” Sian began, smiling at him, “are you a fixer too?”
“I am,” he answered. “I was in the Army up until last year, but it was time for a change.”
“Do you like being a fixer?”
“I do,” he assured them, then turned to the waitress who’d come by to get his order.
It was fun to watch her eyes widen and her jaw drop as she stared at the gorgeous stranger, unable, it seemed, to form a sentence.
“Could I get some coffee and a steak, medium, three eggs, and toast, wheat if you have it?”
She nodded and darted away, but was back moments later with a mug, as well as a glass of ice water, ignoring everyone at the bar.
“Thank you,” he said warmly, and I thought she was going to melt into a puddle of goo right there. I had to admit that going out on jobs with Rais was fun. I never waited for servers when I was with him; they seemed to magically appear. Flight attendants were amazing, and when we stayed in hotels, our rooms were always upgraded. There were perks to hanging out with a man who looked like a movie star.
“I didn’t realize that fixers went out on jobs in pairs as well,” Sian commented. “I thought it was one fixer per job.”
“Most of the time, yes,” he explained, pouring his coffee. He smelled the cream and put it back down. “But there’s always the odd job that requires a pair.”
I located the folder I was looking for on Benji’s laptop and opened it, somewhat surprised to see that all the photographs were in black-and-white. “Why no color?”
“Black-and-white catches spectral images better,” Delly answered.
“That’s correct,” Sian chimed in as food started being delivered to the table.
There were zucchini muffins, quinoa power bowls with steamed veggies, and egg white omelets. There were also mixed greens and what looked like rice pudding and granola.
“That is not pub food,” I announced with disdain as a pot of honey was placed on the table. I pointed at the pudding. “And what is that?”
“It’s chia seed pudding,” Rais informed me, and then asked the waitress for some regular cream before he started looking at the laptop with me.
“That’s not cream?” I asked him, looking at my own coffee, wondering if that was the reason it tasted weird.
“No, it’s coconut milk,” he answered distractedly, going through the pictures.
“How did you know that?”
“Because,” he said slowly, “my sister is a vegan, and she tries to feed me crappy power foods like that.” He turned the laptop so he could tap the keys and didn’t have to wait for me. “I do not eat a plant-based diet,” he informed me. “Like you, I’m a meat eater.”
I turned to Benji. “Pub food is supposed to be bad for you, and you ate bacon last night.”
He made a face.
“What?”
He closed one eye. “That wasn’t actually bacon.”
“What do you mean?”
“It was a bacon substitute.”
I scowled at him. “You fed me fake bacon?”
“Technically, you fed yourself fake bacon since you cooked it.”
“It looked just like bacon.” I was horrified and a bit relieved. I had wondered about the taste at the time but assumed it was the brand. I suppose I should have felt some relief that it wasn’t spoiled. I would need to investigate things more thoroughly going forward. It was probably a good lesson for life in general.
“Aw, your face,” he said sympathetically, even as he chuckled and leaned in to give me a little hug. “I feel bad now.”
“No, you don’t,” I countered, because he couldn’t stop laughing.
“Well, no, but you look so disappointed and betrayed, and it’s adorable.”
“Me looking sad is adorable?” I said, trying for disdain. “You’re a horrible person.”
He was laughing harder.
“Fine. You’re a vegan, then.” It took him a minute to get himself under control, and he had to wipe at his eyes with a napkin. “It wasn’t that funny.”
“Your little face,” he repeated.
I groaned.
“Sorry, sorry. Okay.” He looked up at me and smiled like he was drunk. “What was your question?”
“You’re a vegan,” I stated.
“No, because I do eat eggs and dairy. I just don’t eat any kind of meat.”
“That would make my mother insane,” I informed him.
“Will I be meeting your mother?” he asked hopefully.
What was I even saying?
Thankfully, my own food finally arrived, a huge pork chop, three eggs, grits, and biscuits with white gravy. I was very happy. I waved at Chris and yelled over the thank-you.
“Benji,” Rais said, turning the computer around so he could see the picture on the screen. “Who is this?”
I looked at it with Benji and saw a man standing at a window inside the ruins of some kind of cabin, maybe, out in the woods.
“That’s the ghost,” Benji told him solemnly. “He’s the one I’ve been talking about. He’s not at rest, and the spectral attacks have happened because he saw me. He knows I can help, but I haven’t yet, and he’s getting more and more angry.”
I had a million questions, but before I could get the first one out, Rais interrupted.
“How do you know he’s a ghost?” he asked.
“Because I showed the picture around town, and no one recognized him or said they’d seen him before.”
“Did you show the picture to the deputy?” I questioned him.
Benji nodded. “I did, and he said he’d never seen him before either. Though I will say, he barely glanced at the photo.”
“Where and when was this picture taken?” Rais wanted to know.
“Up at the old sawmill, and about, oh, four months ago.”
“Everybody used to be able to go up there,” Sian explained. “That was when the land belonged to Ruben Navarro, but then Chuck Lindstrom bought it and made the property private, so there’s no trespassing now.”
Rais’s food was delivered then, and the waitress placed it down gently, asked him if there was anything else he needed, which, honestly, with the array of jellies she brought him, plus tabasco, steak sauce, pepper flakes, and an odd side of ranch, I had no idea what else he could possibly need.
“Thank you so much,” he told her. “I’m good.” He turned to Benji then. “I don’t think that’s a ghost,” he informed him.
“How do you know?”
Rais took a small part of the picture I hadn’t noticed before and, with the click of a button, blew it up. “Because that right there is a dirt bike, and maybe it’s just sitting out there in the middle of nowhere, or maybe your guy drove it up there for a reason.”
Benji squinted at the photograph. “But I asked everybody,” he told us. “I left no stone unturned. I put flyers up all over town and posted the picture digitally on the community billboard. No one knew him.”
“But all that means is that maybe he wasn’t from around here,” I reminded him. “I think we need to run him through a missing persons database and see what we find.”
“Why?”
“Because maybe he’s not a ghost at all,” I explained. “And the fact that you saw him, and caught him on film, could be the whole problem.”
“No,” he assured me, “that’s impossible.”
“It isn’t,” I argued. “In fact, it’s highly probable. It’s a much better explanation than him being a ghost. It makes a helluva lot more sense.”
“There’s no way.”
“Yeah? You wanna tell me when the attacks on you first started?”
“After I saw him, of course.”
“After you saw him, or after you started showing his picture around?”
“It was the same time, I guess. Maybe a day or so difference.”
“Interesting coincidence, don’t you think?”
“It’s not a coincidence. He wanted my help and started acting out.”
I nodded.
“Shaw––” he raised his voice “––this is a serious matter!”
“I absolutely agree,” I assured him. “But not how you’re thinking.”
“I don’t understand.”
I took a breath to smooth out my voice. “Let’s say this guy was in town doing whatever, maybe visiting, and you just so happened to get that picture of him. No one else noticed him or saw him except for whoever he was here to see. But maybe during the course of their visit, that person ended up doing him harm.”
“I don’t—you’re saying someone killed him?”
“Maybe. And maybe not even intentionally,” I acknowledged, thinking as I was speaking. “Maybe it was an accident. But whatever happened, you, and you alone, have evidence that this guy was here, and perhaps someone doesn’t want you snooping around and asking questions.”
“No,” Benji said, but didn’t sound terribly convinced.
