Lost Souls

his shirt pocket.

Jason cleared his throat. “Thanks for your time. Sorry about the wait.”

Booger shrugged congenially, looking like he hadn’t noticed his friend was pissed. “We don’t have anything else to do until it gets dark. We’ve been reviewing footage.”

“See anything we might find interesting?” Jason asked.

“Not yet. We’ll have to enhance the images.”

“Uh-huh.” This time, Sam didn’t disguise a snort.

Clayton’s brows lowered. “I know we sound kinda out there, but this stuff is real. So are we.”

Sam’s glance cut straight to Clayton. “Just make sure you stay clear of the third floor. The entire floor’s a crime scene now.”

After a two-second stare-down, Clayton offered a tight smile and stood. The others quickly followed.

Mina shoved her glasses up her nose and offered her hand. “If we find anything interesting, we’ll let you know.”

“If we find anything,” Clayton interjected, “we expect quid pro quo. And if you change your minds about doing an interview for this episode…”

“I’ll let you know,” Sam said, then stared pointedly toward the door.

When they trailed out of the room, Sam looked at Jason, whose lips were pressed into a straight line. “You think they have a clue?”

No way. “I think they know enough to get in the way.”

“My thoughts too.”

“Still, photographic surveillance isn’t a bad idea.” Jason shrugged.

Sam let out a deep breath. “You think following orbs around might lead us to something?”

Jason grunted. “Most orbs are just dust particles blown up with the flash of a camera. But you never know. They might get lucky. If we can find that conflux—”

Sam let loose a chuckle. “The only thing they might find is trouble. Especially if they get in Cait’s way.”

“Yeah, what do we need with them when we have our own ghost girl?” Jason dismissed the group with a wave. “Speaking of which, any ideas where to start looking for her?”

“Yeah, one or two,” Sam said, grinding his jaws.

“I’ll head to the office to dig up what I can on the Internet about strange happenings and disappearances surrounding the hotel.”

Sam gave him a nod. “Regroup at O’Malley’s tonight?”

“Sure it’s safe for her to be there?”

Hoping the place was about the habit and not the substance, Sam lifted his shoulders. “Later.”

5

“Spirits who aided this seeker of past

Lead me to Morin by crows’ winged path.

If you should honor and grant my request—

I’ll follow your lead north, south, east, or west…”

Cait flung the ingredients she cupped inside her hands into the air, and then squatted on the pavement, waiting for the spell to take effect. But the world continued to move forward. Pedestrians strode briskly down the sidewalk. The sky above her remained a brilliant blue. No crows burst from a dark mixture to lead her to her destination. Grit blew into her eyes.

She rose and glanced over her shoulder at Celeste, who stood in front of her shop with her arms held akimbo, tsking her disapproval. “Is it because he mixed the last batch?”

Celeste pointed above her head. “Sign don’ say ‘WITCH INSIDE.’ How’m I s’posed ta know?” When Cait continued to glare, she lifted her shoulders. “Da locator spell didn’ work ’cause you only seek help when you in dire straits. When it’s convenient for you to forget how much you resent your powers.”

“Tante…” Okay, so that sounded a little like whining, even to her ears. What was she, ten? “I don’t have time for this not to work. Lives may be at stake.”

Lowering her voice, Celeste bent at the waist to lean closer. “You don’ get nekkid wit’ a sorcerer, drain him of power, den go on your merry way like he didn’ give you somet’in’ precious.”

Cait’s fists clenched. “Is this his fault? Is he punishing me?”

“Morin’s not recovered his full strength. Some of what you took he’ll never get back. His gift ta you for your battle against dat monster was given freely. But Da Powers Dat Be,” she said, pointing her finger upward, “dey watch, gal. You made a bargain you have yet ta keep.”

A bargain? Her feet shifted. She remembered asking for intervention from the Goddess and the swift influx of power she’d received that had allowed her to demolish the wraith whistling through Celeste’s shop. “I wasn’t ignoring them. I just needed time to recoup.”

“You been practicin’ any spells? Givin’ offerings?”

Cait scowled. “We don’t sacrifice goats anymore.”

“But you s’pposed ta pray,” Celeste whispered harshly. “Ta give t’anks for your gifts, ma petite.” Celeste shook her head. “You’re ungrateful. Dat what dey see.”

“But I’m not—” Cait clamped her lips shut before she told another lie. The last thing she felt was gratitude. Most of the time, she wished she’d been born into a normal family, not descended from a long line of practicing witches. Her shoulders drooped. “What am I supposed to do? I have questions only he can answer.”

“Perhaps a cleansin’ of your spirit…”

I’ve already showered, she almost quipped but thought better of being flippant. Ingratitude and bad manners had gotten her into this mess. “I know a ritual. All I need is a smudge stick.”

Celeste shook her head, again. Her dark eyes hardened. “Always lookin’ for a quick fix.”

Cait blew out an exasperated breath. “Sprinkle me with peppermint tea?”

“Dat be no ritual,” Celeste said, disapproval stiffening her shoulders.

Cait threw back her head and closed her eyes. “All right. Take me to the circle.” When she glanced toward Celeste, she spotted her curvy figure halfway through the door of her tiny store.

“Hurry it up, gal,” she threw over her shoulder. “Time’s a-wastin’.”

“Finally, she gets it,” Cait muttered as she released her fists.

“I heard dat.”

Cait almost smiled. Celeste appeared fully recovered from her injuries following the wraith attack. Today, she was dressed as always in a long, red-and-gold print caftan that rippled around her pretty form. Cait followed her through her shop, past the shelves crammed with new-age and voodoo kitsch, past her counter with its display of crystals and wands.

Behind the counter, Celeste brushed aside strands of purple beads, entering the “reading room” where she read palms and tarot cards for paying customers.

A black cloth decorated with large pink cabbage roses covered the table. Celeste’s clear crystal ball sat in the center. Cait looked around quickly for the box that held her mother’s rose quartz ball but didn’t see it. Not that she had any intentions of using it herself. Not now. Maybe never again.

Celeste pulled back the chairs and gripped one side of the round table.

Cait grabbed the opposite side, and together they moved the table against one wall, exposing a circle painted in black on the planked floor. A crude pentagram sat at its center, dark oily stains inside each point.

“Begin takin’ off your clothes,” Celeste said as she strode to her cupboard.

“What if you get a customer?” Cait looked over her shoulder.

“I hear da bell. You hide. No more excuses.”

Cait opened her belt and unzipped her jeans. “Why does magic always require someone gettin’ naked?”