“Hell, no.”
“Good. I imagine that would be a nightmare.”
“Don’t you know?”
“I’m an amateur. I’m new at this. I do know that I caused that in one man. He went insane.”
“I’m not insane.” His lips were tight, his eyes glittering.
“But you’ve been wondering.”
He didn’t speak for a moment. “I’ve had a few doubts. But I came to the conclusion that I either accept that you may not be the charlatan I thought you were, or I accept the fact that I may be heading for the funny farm. I find the former far more palatable. So I’m here to ask questions. So far, you’re not being very reassuring.”
“Tough. I don’t think you want reassurance. You want answers. I may not be able to give them to you, but I’ll try to help you find them. Ask your questions.”
“Ghosts. You hear the dead. Do you see them?”
Her cup stopped on the way to her lips. “No, and I never considered them ghosts. More like echoes of what happened at a given time and place.” She gazed at him for a moment before she put the question to him. “Do you see them?”
He didn’t answer for a moment. “Maybe.” He scowled. “Damn, that was hard to say.”
“Do you know who they are?”
“Bonnie. I thought at first that I was having a hallucination because of the stress of the years of trying to find her.”
“How many times have you seen her?”
“Once.”
“Then you could be right.”
“I wasn’t trying to find Nancy Jo Norris, and I saw her.”
“The girl who was murdered? I saw the story on the evening news.” She frowned. “How do you see them? Is it just a fleeting glimpse?”
“No, they talk to me. Like you, like anyone.” He started to stand up. “I’m done. I’m getting out of here. I sound like the nutcase I probably am.”
“Wait. Why did you come? What tipped the scales and made you think that maybe I could help you?”
“Nancy Jo told me that the man who killed her had grabbed her from behind, held a handkerchief over her nose, and knocked her out. The autopsy showed she’d been dosed with ether. It was slim evidence, but I grabbed at it.”
“I would have done the same,” Megan said. “And that’s not so slim.”
“Yes, it is. I’d say it’s wishful thinking, but I don’t like either option.”
“But you’ve already accepted one of them, or you wouldn’t be here.”
“Any port in a storm. If you did this to me, can you undo it?”
She shook her head. “I think you’re stuck with it. But I’ll try to find out.”
“For God’s sake, don’t you know?”
“Dammit, I told you. I’m new at this. I didn’t even know I had any so-called psychic talents until a few months ago. I’m certainly no authority, for heaven’s sake. But I’ll call my friend Renata Wilger in Munich, and see if she knows someone who can help you.”
“Another psychic voodoo priestess?”
She shook her head. “Not really. Renata is a distant cousin, and she’s sort of an agent for a family business. But she has contacts.”
“What family? It sounds like the Mafia.”
“No. It’s the Devanez family.” She hesitated. She’d have to tell him. She owed him the whole truth. “It’s a very old family and some of the members have certain . . . talents.”
“A whole family of freaks? What the hell am I getting into?”
“Look, I know this is difficult for you. Well, it’s not easy for me.” She didn’t blame him for being impatient. Her explanation would probably not make it any more acceptable. “I found out I was a member of the Devanez family at the same time I learned I was one of these ‘freaks’ you’re talking about. The Devanezes were originally landholders in southern Spain. In 1485, they fled Spain to escape the Inquisition. The local peasants had gone to their priests and accused the family of every form of witchcraft from predicting the future to shape changing. Some of it was sheer superstition, but there was no doubt the family had certain talents. The family scattered to practically every corner of the civilized world and went into hiding. But Jose, the head of the family, believed in strength in Unity, and didn’t want the family to lose contact with each other. He created a ledger that listed names, addresses, even talents, of family members, and sent it out of the country with his brother, Miguel. Since then there’s always been a keeper of the ledger who visits around the world and keeps track of the family.” She paused. “And problems that we might be having because of any gift we might have.”
“And Renata Wilger can contact this damn keeper of the ledger and find me help?”
“Renata is the keeper of the ledger.” She added quietly, “And she’s my friend. She’ll do whatever she can.”
“I hate having to rely on you, or her, or anyone else.” His tone was edged with frustration. “I don’t want this.
